i  imillllllllnlilfik

n

mu 7 , fl! . .M
" I ’31 ~'«l : WI My Ifirl‘ mu mi mun... I
,  wlmillllllgfilw ,

 

 

 

ERED AT THE POST OFFICE AT NEW Y0

Published Every Ten Cents a. Copy.
Wednesday. $5 00 a. Year.

 

 

 

 

i l "1‘ MM
lllll‘l" '
inuiwnii

 

 

_":llllllllllll ‘

 

 

 

 

 

l Precious Saul Scoundrels.

BY E. A. ST. MOX,
AUTHOR or “A LOST STAR,“ “OLD INVISIBLE,”
“ROOM 69,” “THE LEAGUE OF THREE,”
“THE WHISKY KING,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER 1.
ONE O’CLocx IN THE MORNING.

IT was eighteen years to a day that Budge
Martin had been the watchman of the Ashewlle
Bank, when the crisis which sooner or later
comes to us all overtook him.

He went on duty at seven o’clock, as he had
done regularly during the period named, but on
that autumn night the faithful guardian of the
treasure in the vaults of the institution felt a
vague misgiving which he had never known he—
fore.

Precisely why he should have felt thus was
more than he could explain. and he uttered an

V 7 .— r exclamation of impatience as be carefully made
'% ' '“44 " his round of the different Offices and went dmru
EACH OF THE BURGLARS SILENTLY DEPOSITED HIS SPOILS OE WE ALTH ON THE FLOOR into the massive vault where the gold, silverund
AND DREW BIS REVOLVER. THEY WERE LIKE WILDCATS CAUGHT A’l‘ BAY. greenbacks were locked within the iron wnlls

 

 

2 Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

 

 

which seemed strong enough to resist the attack
of an army.

There was absolutely nothing that he could
discover on which to base the slightest suspicion
that anything was wrong.

“ Bah! what's the matter with me?" be de-
manded, after adjusting the register, as he was
obliged to do every fifteen minutes to rove to
his employers that he had not slept on is post.
“I feel as if I were going to have a chill—"

Hark! what was that?

Only the clock in the Town Hall booming the
hour of midnight, just as he had heard it com
the hours for nearly a score of years.

But something caused the sturdy watchman.
who at that moment was walking softly through
the open space in front of the counter, to stop
and listen.

He heard nothing except the footstep of some
one passing over the pavement on the outside.

Surely there was no cause for suspicion, but,
somehow or other, the conviction fastened itself
on the mind of Budge that the same person had
walked in front of the bank at least twice with-
in the preceding hour.

Even if such were the fact, he argued that it
did not signify anything. The individual, who
ever he was, might be strolling along and smok-
ing a late cigar, with never a thought of the
bank and its wealth of treasure. He might be
waiting for some belated friend, or indeed,
there might be a dozen legitimate reasons for
being on the street at that late hour.

At any rate. there was no fear of the watch-
man falling asleep on his pest, as he was obliged
to admit to himself he had done more than once
in the past.

He examined his Smith & Wesson which he
carried in his hip—pocket, where it was ready at
an iiistant’s call. The weapon was prepared for
service on a second’s notice.

The gas jets were turned down, but they were
burning on the upper floor, in the office of the
president, the directors’ room, and in the vault,
which was reached b a descent of three steps.

Everything was s ip—shape. The handsome
clock against the wall ticked with its usual mo-
notonous re larity, but in the oppressive still~
ness it soun ed startlingly loud. The light in
the front of the bank was strong enough for
Budge, after adjusting his spectacles, to read
the figures on the white face.

It was five minutes to one.

“ I’ll be hanged i" he muttered under his
breath, “ if that ain’t that same chap ag’inl"

Certainly some. one was walking slowly and
softly by the outer door; the footste sounded
precisely like that which had arreste his atten-
tion more than once before.

But why should there be any distinguishable
difference between the footfalls of two rsons
saunterlng over the vement late at nig ti

It would be bar to say, but Martin had
reached a state of such extreme nervousness that
nothing could shake his belief that a single per-
son from some cause or other was para ing in
front of the Ashevdle Bank, as he had been do-
ing for fully two hours. .

“ If it does him any ood, he is welcome to
tramp back and forth a lnight—"

The watchman sprung several inches from the
floor, for, at that moment, some one rattled the
knob of the outer door, following it with a
quick, peremptory rap, repeated several times.

Recovering himsel instantly, Budge placed
his right hand on the butt of his revolver, and
step ing forward, demanded:

ho’s there?

“Is that you, Bud e?" asked the party out-
side, holding his mout close to the crevice be-
tween the halves of the door.

“ Of course it is. “rho are you?”

“Mr. Carew. There’s something wrong; let
me in, quick !”

Martin was almost para] zed. Tudor Carew
was the President of the sheville Bank, and
that certainly sounded like his voice.

A midnight visit from him was unprecedent-
ed. It must be some extraordinary cause which
could bring him from his comfortable home at
that hour. _ ,

Budge hesitated. He knew of the ingenious
tricks to which bank burglars ream-t to carry
their point, and this might be one of them.

“ There are suspicious characters around,"
added the party, in the same hurried, husky
whisper, speaking through the crevice between
the doors. _

“ I know that,” replied the watchman, holding
his mouth within a few inches of the inviSible
face, “and that's why I’m afeard to open the
door to you, Mr. Carew, ’cause, you see I ain‘t
sure that it is you.”

“ I’m glad to find you so watchful. That's
ri ht but don’t keep me waiting longer."

but Budge held back.

“There were a couple of men in the bank to-
day whose appearance we didn’t like; one of
them has been walking back and forth in front
of the building for two hours. I meant to warn
you, but forgot to do so.”

Surely that was the voice of Mr. Carewa If
it was not, there were never two voices so simi-

lar.
But the situation of the watchman compelled
him to be unusually careful, and with his hand

 

 

on the ponderons fastenings of the outer doors,
he hesitated, doubtful and anxious.

“ If you are uncertain,” added the man out-
side, with a low, chuckling laugh, which the
watchman had never heard fall from any lips
except those of the president, “ you can tell me
how Dit-Dat-Dot is coming along this fine
autumn evening."

Budge Martin was the father of a three-year~
old boy who was always addressed as Dit-Dat—
Dot by only one person in the world, and that
person was Tudor Carew, the President of the
Asheville Bank.

The form of address, accompanied by the well-
remembered voice, and the peculiar, indescrib-
able chuckling laugh scattered the last remain-
ing doubt from the mind of the watchman.

A feeling like that of remorse took possession
of him because he had kept the honored head of
the institution waiting so long. He therefore
undid the fastenings, saying:

“I hope you’ll excuse me, Mr. Carew, but,
you know in these times a person can’t be too
careful—"

A million stars suddenly burst to view in
Budge Martin’s field of vision and he felt as if a
torpedo had exploded against the center of his
forehead.

As he tumbled backward, us limp as a rag,
the Supposed Mr. Carew leaped lightly over
him, followed by two other men, each with his
face masked!

Turning about. the leader fastened the door,
while the others bent over the prostrate form of
the watchman.

“ I guess he’s done for," remarked one, survey-
ing the bleeding forehead with as little concern
as if it had been a block of wood; “ you fetched
him a good one, Ash!”

“ We ain’t taking any chances," replied the
leader, who, havingquickly refastened the door,
joiner] the two who were bending over the des-

erately wounded watchman, “ he's tough and is
inble to come to, any moment, and let out a yell
which will wake the town.”

From an inside pocket of his coat, the speaker
drew a ag, which was crammed into the mouth
of poor udge, and fastened in a knot behind his
head, so as to keep it in place. .

That the trio were adopts in crime was proven
by the dexterity with which one tied the wrists
together, while the other bound the ankles as
securely as Geronimo and his A aches could
have done in preparing a prisoner or torture.

Three minutes after the entrance of the burg-
lars the watchman was as hel less on the floor
as if the bank building had an en upon him.

It was true that Budge had received a fearful
blow but it was equally true that, as the leader
had declared he was an exceedingly tough in—
dividual. Although his skull seemed to have
been cracked and he was so dizzy and bewil-
dered that he would not have been able to keep
his feet, had he been allowed to try it, he quickly
regained his senses to that extent that be under-
stood what was going on around him.

Unable to stir or speak, he could use his eyes,
despite the blood that was trickling down his
forehead and face.

That which he saw was astounding.

Budge did not entirely open his eyes, through
fear that it would bri another frightful visi-
tation from the club which the leader had used
ugon him, and which lay on the floor by his
31 e.

With the lashes half-closed, he was able to see
the burglars as long as they were within his
field of vision.

The men had no dark—lanterns and none of the
paraphernalia with which the knights of the
Jimmy are accustomed to do their work. Had
the trio been encountered on the street, there
would not have been anything (barring their
black masks) that would have drawn the least
attention to them. All three were well and
even fashionany dressed one of them being
fully six feet in ight, while the other two (an
this included the leader) were of ordinary
stature.

Having disposed of the watchman all stood
for a minute or two in a careless attitude, with
their hands in their coat kets, as if they had
any number of hours at t eir disposal and there
was no cause for hurry.

Standing thus, they talked a. few minutes in
low tones, every word being audible to poor
Budge Martin, who listened and looked wit all
the power at his command.

 

CHAPTER II.
A name can.

Tin: three burglars stood close to the door, so
that no one of them could be seen from the out-

side.

Had they been in line with either of the win-
dows, they would have been visible to_any one
passing alon the street, for the curtains were
always raised' at night, so that the dimly burn-
ing gas brought the interior into view.

Their action shOWed that they were awaiting
some signal from a confederate without.

“The job was well managed,” remarked the
tall man.

“ So far all is well."

“ And there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be to

 

the end, Fred,” remarked one of the others,
apparently addressing the man at his side,
whose stature was the same as his own.

“ Budge is a pretty good watchman, but, like
all of them, he is likely to make a slip. ’

At this, all three turned their gaze upon the
prostrate man, who held his eyelids so nearly
closed that for the moment he saw nothing of
the dreaded figures.

At that moment, a soft, tremulous whistle was
heard out-doors.

It meant that. the coast was clear.

The tallest of the men, moved nimbly around
from the frat of the counter to its side. reached
his hand behind the network of wire which cov-
ered it throughout its extent, unfastcned a door,
and, placing his hand on the counter vaulted
1i htly over.

he other two followed him like sheep goin
over a. wall, and all three instantly vanish
from the sight of the watchman, who suffering
as he was from his wound, smiled to himself.

“ It isn’t hard to get in this door,” he thought,
“ but it will take a smarter gang than them to‘
break into that vault.”

In the profound stillness of the room, Budge’s
sense of hearing was preternaturnlly acute.
Could he believe his senses? He heard them
fumbling at the massive door, and then one of
them chuckled.

The ponderous structure moved almost noise-
lessly on its complicated hinges, but, there could
be no mistake about it. The watchman heard it
swing back. just as distinctly as he ever heard
the door of his own bedroom move to and
fro!

“ Great heaven!” he thought; “can it be they
have the combination? Impossiblel that is
known on] to the president and cashier!”

But, her ' again!

“ The word is ‘ L-o~a-d,’ said one in an under—
tone, which reached the ears of the amazed
Budge Martin, “ here she goes!”

As sure as fate, the inner door of the vault
was swung outward, in obedience to the strong
band that had grasped the knob and turned it
back and forth, so that the key spelled the word
named.

A slight increase of the glow within the center
of the bank showed that the criminals had turn-
ed up the gas jet in the vault, so as to give all
the light they needed.

This expansion of the glare was not likely to
attract attention from the outside; but the same
soft whistle from the pavement reached the dar-
111% workers in the vault.

here must have been a slight variation in the
sound, for, instantly, the light was turned down
again, and all was as still as the tomb. The
sound of a hurried footstep proved that the sigh
nal was intended as a warnin .

Half a minute after the footste had died
out. another faint whistle was hea .

Instantly the whispers were renewed inside
the vault, the gas jet was turned up, and work
was resumed.

The cold perspiration broke out allover poor
Budge. He felt that the Asheville Bank was
bein cleaned out by a gang of professional
burg rs, and that it was due solely to his own
remissness. True, an unfrejudiced investiga-
tion would ac uit him 0 blame, but his own
conscience con d never do so, nor could he be
certain that his employers would hold him
guiltless.

The manwho personated Tudor Carew, the
president, did so with a skill which would have
deceived his own wife, but, what person or cor-
poration will accept any excuse for the loss of a
vast amount of money, through the agency of
an individual?

The watchman hoped against hope that he was
mistaken; it must be some awful dream, he
thought again and again: but, the racking in
of that wound on his forehead, the trick ing
blood, the sufl’ooating gag in his mouth, the cut-
ting thongs on wrists an ankles—ah! they were
no dreams.

“ How did they ft the combination?” Budge
repeatedly asde imself; “ they must have
gone to the house of Mr. Carew or Hyneman
and made them tell. Maybe, they murdered
both of them; who kuows?’

A dull, muffled clink came from within the
vault. Martin recognized the sound; it was
that made by setting the little bags of old on
the floor or strikin them against each at er.

Ay, there coul be no doubt of itl The
burglars had opened the treasure vault and
were helping themselves.

Would they leave anything? Surel three
men were not strong enough to carry 0 all the
treasures but they could take away enough in
the form of bank bills and gold tomake them
wealthy for life.

“ And it is all my fault,” thought the watch-
man in agony of spirit: “if I ha done my duty
this never would have happened.”

’8): ! there was a movement from within. The
burglars were about to emerge from the vault-

Suddenl the head of the tallest appeared
through 1: 9 fitting, which ran around the
counter, and t en the tops of the hats worn by
the other two were seen beside him. They "am
not talking, but stood a moment and listened.
They were in sight of any one passing along on

 

 

 

3

 

 

Zigzag and Catt, the Invincible Detectives. I

the outside and evidently were waiting for a
ll al from their confederate.

he absence of such signal was a ood omen,
and once more the tall man vaulted ike 5. mon-
key over the counter, followed less nimbly by
his associates.

As they came in si ht, the horrified watchman
saw they were loade with riches. Bills of large
denominations were packed close together and
held under the arms of the two foremost, whose
ppcflkets were bulging out with the same valuable
s u .

The third man had devoted his attention to the
auriferous deposits of the Asheville Bank. He
certainly was more than half a hundred pounds
heavier when he came out of than when be en-
teer the institution and he walked like a man in
the last sta e of exhaustion. He was forced to
deposit it 1 on the counter before he could climb
over, his companions indulging in a light laugh
at the figure he cut. But he quickly joined them
as leased as they.

lmost o posite Budge whose eyes were near-
ly shut, an whose heart was beating like a trip-
hnmmer one of the canvas bags slipped from un-
der his arm and striking the knee of the watch-
;ililapj, fell upon the floor with a dull, metallic

u .

“ Confound it!” growled the burglar. stooping
over with some difldculty to pick it up.

The scamp was so laden with gold that two

 

other bags slipped from his grafl) and came
down upon the stomach of Budge artin.

That sort of metal, as is well known, is one of ;
the heaviest in the world and the blows forced a }
groan from the watchman. I

“ The fellow is alive, Fred,” said the tallest;
“ I thought that blow of mine finished him. "

“If it didn’t a few more of mine will,” mut-
tered the other, managing with some difficulty
to gather up his pack again.

At this juncture, the robbers received the first
scare of the evening. They had laid their plot
well and executed it with a dash and audacity
which carried them through where every one
else would have failed.

Some one walked rapidly by the door of the
bank and coughed a couple of times. It was
the confederate who saw such imminent danger
that ho dared not use his usual signal, lest that
of itself should attract suspicion.

The three stood close against the door, beyond
sight of any one outside and coolly awaited the
Cl‘lSlS.

All at once, the murmur of voices was heard
and two men stepped upon the marble steps,
leading to the bank.

What could it mean?

Each of the burglars silently deposited his
spoils of wealth on the floor and drew his re-
volver.

They were like Wildcats can ht at bay; they
did not seek human life, but, w on driven into a
corner would fight to the death.

Although it was so still within the bank, and
the men outside did not seem to try to muffle
their voices, it was impoesible to distinguish a
sentence uttered by them.

Sudden] one of them grasped the door-knob,
and rattl it vigorously.

Discovery seemed inevitable, but the law-
breakers were prepared.

“ Hello, Budge; open the door!” 8 ke one of
the men, whose voice was recogni as that of
Barton Hyneman, the cashier.

The latter called to him repeatedly, but of
course received no response.

How the poor fellow on the floor prayed that
they would persevere and force an entrance!
Ah! if they only knew the situation, how quick-
ly they would summon help! _

“ That fellow is asleep again,” finally said. the
comganion of the cashier, in a voice plainly
audi le within the bank.

“ Yes' he’s becomin so careless,” added the
ofllcial, 1‘ that we 5 have to ship him. I’ll
let the directors know about it to-morrow.”

And with that the sauntered off, never
dreaming of the fearfu condition of affairs.

Once more the criminals athered up their
treasures and carefully stow them about their

persons.

Then the tallest stood with his hands on the
fastenings of the door, awaiting the signal from
their confederate.

It came within the next five minutes.

The walked slowly this time, and whistled.
a. bar mm the “ Mikado,” expressive of his 301-
litv of spirits.

t was enough; the door was drawn inward,
and the trio passed outside, closing the door
after them. The half-dead watchman heard
geir footsteps until they died out in the dis-

nce.

And as the three burglars and their confeder-
ate vanished in the night, they carried with
them a cool two hundred thousand dollars be-
longing to the Asheville Bank.

CHAPTER III.
“ mums BETBOTHED when m.”
WILD as was the excitement caused in Ashe-
ville by the wholesale robbery of its bank the
consternation mega touched that caused by
gnotherevelt ten-f more mrtlinganddar-
mg.

 

 

Byawonderful coincidence the second took
large at precisely the same hour as did the
rs .

This led many to believe that a single auda-
cious band of criminals were the authors of both,
thou b there were not wanting those who in-
sis that the outrages were independent of
each other and the fact that they were contem-
poraneous had no significance.

Asbeville was an ‘culturul town of four
or five thousand inhabitants, including among
its citizens a number of considerable wealth
who made their homes in the pleasant and
healthful town, while their princ1pal business
was in the city of New York, which was hardly
an hour’s ride distant by rail.

One of the finest mansions in Asheville was on
the southern suburbs and was known as Ravens-
wold. It was the home of Leon Walsingham,
a widower with two daughters, Am and Ada.
The father was a well-known and wen thy banker
in New York, so liberal and charitable that he
wzlils one of the most popular citizens of Ashe-
v1 e.

His wife had been buried so long that it had
come to be a general belief that he would never
marry again.

Indeed, his whole love was infolded in his
charming daughters, who were well worthy of
such a mud father’s affection.

It so appened that, on the eventful night of
which we are 5 en king, Ada, the younger daugh-
ter attained er sixteenth birthday and her
father gave her a party for which preparations
had been going on for weeks.

It was the grandest occasion of the kind ever
known in Asbeville, for theze was no earthly
reason whyr it; should not be such. Wealth, lib—
erality and exquisite taste form ’the chief ele-
ments for which worldly happiness can sigh.

This is not the place nor time to describe that
grand entertainment which is spoken of to—day
with pride and delight by all who were fortunate
enough to be present-and it did seem as if all
Asbeville was there.

The beautiful grounds, filled to overflowing
with the rarest and richest of tropical plants,
were illuminated, as if by the noonday sun;
strains of ravishing music intoxicated the
senses; the gay dancers as they whirled through
the bewildering Waltzes were like the dream of
the houris; the earth, the air, and the sea were
laid under tributeto bring to Ravenswold all
that was choice and beautiful and lovely; the
magnificent premises the vast halls and rooms,
the summer- buses, the stretches of shrubbery
and flowers and vegetation were bathed in per-
fume so sweet, so subtle and hewildcrin in its
power to steal away the Senses, that one ad but
to shut his eyes to feel that he was in the land
of Araby the blest.

It would be a delightful task to dWell upon
this scene. which must have stirred the heart of
an anchorite; but, the strange story we have set
out to tell moves with a step that will not allow
us to hold the rose too long nor sip too often of
the delicious wine.

Amy and Ada Walsingham, as we have said,
were well worthy of the love of their father,
who received endless congratulations that,
though gushing in some instances, were never-
theless honest and sincere.

Among so many fair women and brave men
there were others who would have attracted
admiration anywhere.

Perhaps the most intimate friend of the Wal—
singhams was Gladys Linden, who was of the
age of Amy, being eighteen years. She was
undoubtedl the most admired young lady in
Asheville, or it cannot be denied that she was
the most beautiful and on tivating.

Glad s was modest, b ' iant of intellect and a
devo worker in the church. “ Slummiug”
with her was a work of love, and there was
nota poor family in the town that would not
have taken it as a personal sorrow had she
been withdrawn from them.

When it is added that Gladys had no brothers
or sisters nor any parents, but held an independ-
ent fortune in her own right. it need not be ad-
ded that she possessed no end of admirers.

Gladys was the ward of Tudor Carew. her
uncle and President of the Asheville Bank. With
less wealth and liberality than his friend Mr.
Walsingham. Mr. Carew was looked upon as
one of the most opulent and respected citizens
of the town. He had been an oflicial in the lead-
ing church for years and was considered a type
of the honorable, upright business man whois
beyond the reach of temptation, at least in a
monetary point of view. -

It had been the intention of Mr. Carew to ac-
company his ward to the birthday party of Ada
Walsingham, but, late in the afternoon, he was
seized with one of his periodical attacks of ver—
tigo and found himself unable to go. Gladys
offered to stay at home with him but since his
wife would give him all the attention he could
need,'he would not hear of it and withdrew to
his own room.

Soit came about that the beanteous Glad I
was escorted by Fred Melville, the chief boo -
kee r in the Asheville Bank.

he can blame him if he did hold his head a
little higher than usual and probably thrust out

his chest more than ordinary, when he entered

 

i the land of enchantment with the bewitching
1 heiress leanin

on his arm?

There wasn t a man there who viewed the
couple without jealousy and Fred knew it and
was proud of it.

And among all the envious ones there was
none who did not mentally add the declaration
that the two were by all odds the handsomest
couple on the grounds.

There were man natural and not very kind
remarks about suc an attractive and desirable
lady as Glad s Linden'showing so marked pre-
ference for red Melvdle, when so many more
desirable young gentlemen were at her com-
mand.

True, Fred was handsome, talented, and pos-
sessed good principles. He was a leading singer
in the choir of the church in which Gladys was
so prominent a worker, and an adept in all the
arts and accomplishments that tend to make one
pogular in society.

ut, all the same, he was only a bookkee er
in the Asheville Bank, and his living depen ed
upon the not very generous salary he received
for such services.

Enough has been told to show that Fred and

‘ Gladys were extremely fond of each other. and

what need they care, t eret'ore, for what envious
ones thought and said?

In the maze and whirl and splendor of that
memorable evening at Ravenswold, Fred and
Gladys gained few opportunities for the ex-
change of those delicious little nothings which
mean everything to lovers, but are so pointless
to the outside world: but there had been several
warm pressures of the hand on the way thither
in the carriage; the lips had met in quick,
warm, thrilling contact, and the eyes, when seen
under'the glare in the grounds were tremulous
with the light of love.

Although jealous of the attentions of others,
they trusted each other fully, and felt that so
long as they had not publicly announced their
betrothal, they could not shut their eyes to the
demands of society.

So it came about that Fred was obliged to
guide Amy and Ada Walsingham through the
bewitching mazes of the waltz, and with a cer-
tain pang as he saw the arm of another encir-
filing the waist of her who was all the world to

im.

Glancing at Gladys, as she whirled across the
rooms, with just the faintest glimpse of the be-
witching slippers which won! have need the
foot of Cinderella herself, he coul not help
murmuring:

“ What! the rl I adore by another embraced?
What! the be m of those lips shall another man

taste?
What! touched in the twirl by another man's knee?
What! pant and recline on another than me?
Sir, she s yours! From the grape you have pressed
the soft blue;
From the rose you have shaken the tremulous dew;
Whatiyoulzi're touched, you may take; pretty waltzer,
a on

But the ardent lover did not appropriate the
full sentiment of that sensuous couple . He had
no thought of bidding adieu to the enchanting
waltzer, though it di cause him a strange thrill
of sin to see another—even though he was a
bri! iant duate of West Point—occupying
the lace t at he felt belonged to him alone.

e would not allow his regret to show itself,
and it was turned almost into leuure b the
conviction that Gladys horse! shared i with

him.

“ Can it be that she loves me f" he often found
himself murmuring. “Why should she bestow
the wealth, of her priceless love upon me, when
she can bring the whole world at er feet. Ah
lwho? can explain the wonderful workings of

ove

“ Any one can understand why I should love
her for she is the queen of her sex, but who
shall legalsin why she should select me from the
hundr’ s so much my superior in every re-

t

It was all well enough that young Fred
Melville should feel so modest concerning his
own worth; but had the truth been told concern-
ing him, it would have been, that in only one
respect was he the inferior of others—and that
was as to his worldly possessions.

After an eterni of waiting, it came Fred‘s
turn once more to me the partner of Gladys
in the dance.

“ Don’t,” she whispered, looking reproach-
fully 11 in his glowing eyes, as his arm too im-
pulsive y sough its place; “ you will draw atten-
tion to us."

“How can I help it?” ke asked, in turn, re-
straining his feelings by what seemed a super-
human effort.

“ You must,” she whispered, woman-like, re-
turning the warm pressure of his hand; “ for it
is no more dimcuit for you than it is for me.”

“Oh,” he gasped, “such confessions will set
me wild.” '

“Then I withdraw them,” she added, With a
coquettish sidelong glance that was like pouring
oil on the atria.

“ They cannot- be withdrawn; once uttered
they are beyond recall, and never can my heart
grow weary of hearing them re ted.”

“We mustn’t forget, Fred, t at we are in a

4 ’ Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

 

crowd,” she said, really afraid that her lover
would lose command of himself.

“ I care not for others, so Ion
yea; what would it be to me if
whole world and Eyet gain you 2'”

“ Fred,” she w ispered, “you have promised
that you will do anything that I ask you to
do ’1

as I am with
should lose the

“ If it is possible; I cannot promise impossi—
bilities."

“ You must control yourself.”

Even as she uttered the command, the lustrous
eyes, overrunning with love, contradicted the
words.

She spoke the truth when she said it was as
hard for her as it was for him to hide her aflec-
tion, even in the presence of hundreds.

 

CHAPTER IV.
A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

A'r midnight the enjoyment and festivities in
the magnificent mansion and on the splendid
grounds of Ravenswold were at their hight.

Fred Melville had led Gladys Linden, glowing
with love and beauty to a seat at the side of the
dancing hall, when a boy in the blue uniform of
the messenger of the Western Union Telegraph
Company, cap in hand approached and handed
her a note.

“ What can this mean?” asked the startled
lady, hurriedly opening the yellow envelope
and reading the few lines penciled within.

Fred’s eyes were fastened on the lovely face,
while she was thus engaged and he noticed the
sudden paling of the countenance and the flash
of the eyes.

“ I hope it is no bad news,” he said sympa—
thefiically.

“ I must go home at once,” she said, handing
him the slip of paper on which he read the fol-
lowing:

“ MY DEAR Gaunt—Your uncle is worse. He
does not wish me to disth you. but I know you
would feel grieved if anything serious happened to
him and you were not present Do not feel alarm-
ed, but come at once. I have sent the carriage for
you. Your. AUNT."

“ I am extremely sorry,” said Fred, rising to
his feet as his beloved made haste to get her
wraps; “ I hope that it will not prove so serious
as your aunt dreads.”

“I ray that it ma not, but she would not
send or me unless t ere was good cause for
alarm. I will be with you in a minute," she ad-
ded as she took back the slip of paper and hur-
ried away.

She quickl returned and Fred escorted herto
the street w ere the carriage was drawn up by
the steps at the walk, with the driver waiting
on the box.

In that exciting moment, Fred had no e es
for an one or anything except Gladys. e
helped or into the carriage, receiving a warm
pressure of the hand in return for his own and
she hastily called a good-night to him as the
carriage door was banged shut and the vehicle
rolled rapidly away.

He stood a moment looking at it as it rumbled
of! visible for a brief space in the bright glare
of light which reached the broad highway.

Fred noticed, at the very moment it vanished
that while it seemed to be the carriage of Tudor
Carew. yet the driver on the box was a man
whom he did not recollect ever to have seen be-
fore. He thought nothing of it at the time, but
he bitterly rec-a led it soon afterward.

Gladys had made her adieus to Am and Ada
Walsinghani,wlio promised to explain or sudden
withdrawal to the others.

“ There goes my 11 ht and life,” muttered the
infatuated Fred Me ville, as he turned about
and slowly walked back over the winding grav-
eled walk, with the joyous cou les on every
hand; “ with her gone, the sun as ceased to
shine in the heavens. Mystery of mysteries, that
she should select me as the object of her price-
lem love—

,“ Are you Mr. Melville?” asked a youth, who,
although in the same blue uniform of the other
messenger. was another he .

“ Yes, sir; what can I o for you, my young
friend?”

“Your father and mother live on Lawn av-
enue. do they not?”

“Yes—is anything the matter?” asked Fred,
his heart almost ceasing to beat.

“ Your father had a fall in coming down-stairs
awhile a 0—”

“ Was e hurt?”

“ I believe his leg is broken and—”

But the son had heard enough. He was of!
like a shot to the dressing-room, where be quick-
ly donned his overcoat and catching up his hat,
hastily made his farewells and came own the
walk on a run.

Even in that moment when his whole being
was throbbing with alarm, for his beloved par-
ent, the young man was struck by the singular
coincidence that two messages so similar in im-
port should reach him and Gladys almost at the
same moment. .

' Strange human nature this of ours. Grieved
and distresssd, he was yet able to find something
like consolation in the consciousness that when
fate smote his beloved it gave him a similar

 

blow. It would be hard to analyze or explain
the fact, but so it was.

Fred Melville had a considerable distance to
travel in order to reach his humble home which
was at the op site end of the town, but he was
active, athletic and in bounding health, and it
need not he said that he did not allow the grass
to Igrow under his feet.

e was the only support of his aged father
and mother, whose hearts were wrapped up in
him, for the reader need not be reminded that
he was a son of whom any parents could feel
proud.

As he drew near his home, his thoughts be-
came more and more occupied with sorrow for
the misfortune that had befallen his feeble
parent.

., “ It will go hard with him," be repeated more
than once, ‘for the bones of old persons do not
knit readily, and then how he must have suf-
fered—poor father.”

The instant he caught sight of the humble lit—
tle cottage, he lanced up at the upper story
where he saw a ight burning.

“ I hope it is not so serious as I was told. It
will be hard on mother, too,” he added, quick-
cning his pace to a walk that was almost a run,
“ but I will hire a nurse and make it as light as
I can.”

The reflection that it would compel him to a
more personal rigid economy than ever to pay
an_attendant, caused him pleasure rather than
pain.

For is it not a truth that it is the sweetest
pleasure in the world to suffer for those whom
we love?

The next minute the son was in the house and
went up the stairs three steps at a time. Burst—
ing into his parents’ room, he stopped short and
looked around.

The light was burning dimly, and stepping
ficrolss the apartment, he turned it up to a full

ea( .

The aged couple lay in bed seemingly in a
peaceful sleep.

The slight noise, however, awakened his mo-
ther, who looked at him with her usual sweet
smile, as he bent over and kissed her cheek.

“ Is that you, my Sou?”

“ Yes—but how is father?”

“ Why, what’s the matter with him?” asked
the mother, glancing With a faint expression of
terror at him, as though something dreadful
had happened.

“ Why—why, didn’t he fall down—stairs and
break his leg?”

“ Mercy, no! not that I know of,” she ex-
claimed, as with pardonable inconsistency she
shook her consort by the shoulder with the re-
quest that he would awake at once and explain
the particulars of the awful experiences through
which he had passed while she was asleep.

A man is always slower in regaining his senses
than a woman, and it was some minutes before
the genial old gentleman was able to grasp the
situation.

When at last everything was made plain, he
burst into a hearty laugh.

“ Why, Fred, my boy, I haven’t felt better in
ten years thanI do this minute; I haven’t fallen
down—stairs since I was grown up, and you can
make up your mind that some one has been

laying a Joke on ou—a sorry joke I must con-
ess, but none the ess it was one.” .,

Fred Melville had dropped back in his chair
near the head of the bed, with a blanched face
and rapidly throbbing heart.

What could it mean?

Al ’vague, awful horror was creeping into his
sou i

It was a cruel jest of which he was the victim,
but he cared nothing for that at this time; his
parents were unharmed: bu

that of Gladys Linden?

The comcidence that had struck him some
time before was more'tban a coincidence.

It had a fearful significance!

Precisely the same means had been employed
to get her away from Ravenswold that had been
used to draw him thence.

It was impossible for Fred to understand
what reason there could be for wishing him to
leave the place, after Gladys had been decoyed
into departing. -

And what cause could there be for the trick
played upon her?

Alas! what reason could there bebut the worst
possible one?

Some infatuated devotee of the beauteous
woman, despairing of winning her heart by
fgirfineans, had resorted to the foulest method
0 a .

But it was usslessto sit still while his fears
ran riot through his brain.

Nothing was to be gained b acquaintin his
parents with his terror, so hi ing his tumu t of
emotion as best he could, he quietly arose with
the remark:

“ This fright has given me such a. shaking up
that I won't be able to sleep for an hour or two

 

“ Great Heaven!” he murmured, when on the
street; “ is the world turned upside down?
What can all this mean? Who is at the bottom
of this infernal handiwork?”

He was acting on the theory that a dreadful
deception had been played upon his beloved,
though at times there came a weak hope that
he was mistaken and that she had been sum—
monted home by a genuine message from her
aun .

Turning toward the residence of Tudor Carew,
he walk rapidly over the quarter of a mile
intervening between his own home and that.

His brain was in a whirl and it may be said
that his thoughts tumbled over each other so
ra id and kaleidoscopic were their changes.

e recalled the fact that the man who drove
the carriage in which she left Ravenswold was a
stran er, though he had not noticed him closely
enoug to identify him should they meet
again.

He thought, too, that there was a perceptible
difference in the appearance of the carriage
which brought him and her there and was used
to take her away.

On that point, however, it was possible that
he was mistaken.

It was probably half-past one o’clock or later,
when Fred Melville started for his home in
obedience to the bogus message, so that it was
almost two when he drew near the gate, leading
up the broad path to the house of Tudor
Carew.

There was a faint moon in the sky and the
lamps were burning dimly. By their light be
distinguished the outlines of a man standing
within the gate and leaning upon it, He was
g‘uietly smoking a cigar and the amazement of'

ed may be imagined when be identified him
as no other than Mr. Carew himself.

“ Good—evening,” said the elderly gentleman
in answer to the salutation of the younger, “ I
felt so much better that I ventured out in the
fresh air to smoke a cigar."

“How have you been all the evening, Mr.
Carew?”

“ I felt pretty bad just before Gladys and you
went away, but immediately after I began to
improve and I am thankfu to say that 1 am
entirely recovered. But what means this?
Where is Gladys?”

It was as poor Fred had feared. His beloved
had not reached home. .

He hurriedly told his frightful story.

“Great heavens!” gasped her uncle reeling
backward and catching hold of the gate to save
himself from falling; “she has been abducted!
This blow will kill her aunt and it will kill me!
What shall we do? what shall we do?”

CHAPTER V.
A FEARF'UL AWAKENING.

WITH a heart almost bursting with grief,
Gladys Linden hurried into his carriage that was
drawn up and awaiting her beside Ravenswold,
where the birthday fe e of the Misses Walsing—
ham was so brilliantly celebrated.

At the very moment her lover closed the door
behind her, raised his hat and repeated his ten-
der good-night, she heard the town clock boom
the our of one. -

“ Poor uncle Tudor,” she muttered to herself,
“ he must be seriously ill, or aunt would not
have sent for me. He is getting old, and he
can’t stand many more of those attacks. Can it
be he is dead ?”

She gasped and shivered, as she asked herself
the dread ul question.

Then, covering her face with her hands, she
gay? way for a brief while to her tempest of

18 .
grShe was deeply attached to her aunt and uncle,
for they were the nearest relatives she possessed
in the world, and it seemed to her that if they
should die, she could not live. In truth she was
sure she could not, excepting for one thing.

That was the love of Fred Melville.

Through every grief, and through all anguish,
no matter how poignant. that sweetly thrilling
delight permeated, cheering her when every
other worldly source of comfort failed.

“ If he should die,” she whispered, referring to
her lover. and overcoming her passionate out-
burst of sorrow, “then I know I should die, for
1 would not want to live."

She was glad because of one thing: the driver
was pushing the horses to unusual speed. At
that rate, it would not take long to reach her
home.

She leaned back against the seat, with her
hands to her face, not crying but strangely stir-
red by her emotions, and wishing that t e steeds
were winged so that she could rush to the bed-
side of her beloved relative.

She had been his pet from childhood, and she
almost longed for the opportunity of repayin
some of the loving attentions which he ha
showered upon her.

That the carriage was going very fast was

yet; so I guess I will light a cigar and take a I proven, not so much by the swift, liding move—

stroll before turning in. Go to sleep again, and
think no more about me.”

He kissed both, as had been his custom from
infancy, and passing out the room, softly closed
the door behind him.

meat as by the violence with whic the wheels
bounded in air when they shtick some slight ob-
struction.

At such times of strong emotion the minutes
pass slowly, and after a while Gladys began to

 

 

 

 

 

.  A

D

Zigaag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

5

 

fi

wonder why it was they were so long in reach-
ing their destination.

“ It is not very far,” she said to herself, “ and
the horses are traveling at a rate that ought to
have taken them home before this."

As she looked out of the window at the side of
the door, she observed that no lamps were shin-
ing, and the faint moonlight gave only a misty
outline of the trees at the side of the road.

“ It is so late,” she concluded, “ that I suppose
the lamps have been extinguished.

As yet she felt no alarm, and leaning back
again in her seat, she strove to curb her impa-
tioucc.

But when ten more minutes elapsed, and the
swift motion of the carriage continued, with no
glimmering lights on either side, she felt a sud—

en pang of terrible misgiving.

Lowering the window in the upper part of the
door on her right, she thrust out her head and
looked upward and forward at the seat.

Instead of one, there were two men seated on
the box.

Then the aifrigbted Gladys glanced more
sharply at the side of the street.

It was not a street, but a country highway!

The carriage had left Ashevillc long before,
and was spinningr over a lonely road.

For one minute she was utterly crushed and
overwhelmed. She knew at once that a fright-
f ul lie had been enacted for the purpose of bring-
ing her away from Ravenswold—that her uncle
was not ill and that she was abductedl

What should she do? It would do no good,
and might cause much harm for her to cry out.
She was in such a lonely part of the country,
that no help could be summoned and to attempt
to do so might precipitate violent measures on
the part of her abductors.

But she could not sit still and ride unresisting-
1y to destruction.

“ I will open the door and leap out,” she
thought; “ they may not notice me and I can
make my way back to Asheville.”

She turned the handle of the door with the
purpose of carrying the resolution into effect.

he catch moved readily, but when she pushed
on the door it did not yield. She turned the
bundle back and forth again and pressed with
all the strength at her command; but there was
not the slightest giving way.

Then she tried the other door in the same per-

 

si itent and vigorous manner, but only with the ,

same result!

The abiluctors had done their work well; the
doors were so securely fastened that they could
not be moved.

“ God help me!” moaned the poor girl, once
more leaning back in the carriage and burying
her face in her hands.

“ Who has done this?” was the question that
came to her, su plemented by the equally dread-
ful one, “ WhagJ will be the end f”

Meanwhile the carriage bowled along at the
same ra id pace. The rumbling of planks be-
neath t e wheels showed that the vehicle was
passing over a brid e.

Glancing throng the window on her right,
she caught the gleam of water. A broad lake
spread out over many acres, dimly seen in the
moonlight. '

“ Oh that I could bur myself there,” she
wailed, in the bitterness o anguish; “ but then
what would become of Fred? If be but knew
m distress, how quickly he would fly to my
re let i" ‘

But he could not know until the morrow, and
by that time the whole country would be aroused.

But would it not be too late?

By daylight she would be many miles from
Asbeville and her friends.

What means could they take to rescue her?

The manner in which she had been summoned
from Ravenswold and the fastening of the car-
riage doors, were evidence that the guilty par-
ties were not only daring and audacious but
skillful as well.

It might be set down as certain that they had
negéected no precaution to hide their trail.

‘bat though Asheville was in the midst of an
agricultural region, and within a short distance
of the metropolis of the Union, that was no
reason why such an abduction should not meet
with full success.

A half hour’s ride, as was proven in her own
case, from the bustling little town would take
a person into a region as lonely as can be found
in the wilds of the Carolinas.

But youth, beauty and bounding health do

' not yield supinelytodespair. In a few min-
utes, Gladys Linden began to rail from her
terrible depression that came wit the first

shocking realization of the deception to which
she had been subjected.

She resolved that, come what might she
would never be an unresisting victim. True,
she was only a weak woman, totally unarmed
and With but a tithe of the strength of an ordi-
nary man, but, inspired‘and thrilled b the
knowledge of what was at stake, she be ieved
she would become a tigress in the extremity
which threatened her.

In the whirl of excitement and emotion, it was
impossible for the fair one to take accurate ac-
count of the passa e of time. Recalling the
sound of the town c ock, when she was stepping

 

into the carriage, she drew out her Chatelaine
watch to examine its face, but the light of the
moon was too dim to give her the knowledge she
sought.

Every few minutes she tried the doors, only to
find that they were secured too strongly for her
to stir them.

Once a wild thought of forcing her way
thrOiQiEh the window came to her, only to be dis-
miss tlie next minute.

The sky that had been clear all the evening,
showed signs of a gathering storm. Dark, tu-
multuous clouds rolled across the face of the
moon, shutting out its light and wrapping the
earth in such a mantle of gloom that she shud-
dered with terror. '

Althou h it was quite late in the autumn, yet
the i‘umb in of thunder i'evcrberated along the
sky, and for ‘ed flashes of lightning pierced the
gloom like swords of crimson ilre.

By one of the vivid illuminations, Gladys
glanced at her watch and saw that it was pre-
cisely half-past one; a much briefer space of
time than she supposed had passed since she
entered the carriage.

It will be remembered that at that hour Fred
Melville was hurrying to his own home from
Ruvenswold, and the sky was clear.

The storm, therefore, was local, not reacbin
Aslieville and the birthday festivities continue
uninterruptedly until the gray light of morning
apfieared in the east.

y and by big dro s of water struck the roof
of the carriage, wit a noise like the pattering
of bail. 1n the space of a few seconds, the flood
was descending with a fury that threatened to
sweep everything before it.

The heart of the lady almost ceased its beating,
as the carriage suddenly halted.

Just then, by a flaming glare of lightning, she
discerned a figure at the side of the vehicle. It
was one of the men who had been riding on the
seat from which he was driven by the violence
of the tempest.

Grasping the door, he moved the handle in a,
peculiar way, but uttered a curse because he
was compelled to do so several times before he
could jer it open. .

Then he sprung in. banged it shut again and
raised the window of the door and shouted to
the driver to go ahead.

That same vivid flash which had revealed the
dreaded figure to the terrified Gladys showed
the face of the man.

And she recognized it!

The recognition gave her a shock equal to
that which crushed her the moment she awoke
to the fact that she was in the power of her ab-
duct‘ors.

But she uttered no exclamation, sitting quiet
and leaning as far back in the seat as she
could.

The man said nothing, but sittin opposite,
continued to smokea cigar that b survived
the drenching rain. When he drew on it, the
glow of the red coal-like end was reflected
a ainst his countenance, revealing the end of
h s hooked nose his mustache and whiskers and
once or twice gave a view of his gleaming

9 es.

yYes; Gladys Linden recognized him with a
shudder of unspeakable dread but she neither
spoke nor stirred and he seemed conteutto abide
his time.

Suddenly the carriage made a sweeping turn
to the right, and she saw that it had left the
main road and was 5 ing up a long narrow
lane, so denser shade by trees that few drops
of the rain rattled against the roof or side of
the vehicle.

 

CHAPTER VI.
GATHERING UP THE rmnns.

NOTHING less than an earthquake will ever
again stir Asheville as it was stirred on the
morning/succeeding the birthday party of the
Misses alsinghani. , '

The bank had been broken into, the watch-
man half killed, and more than two hundred
thousand dollars carried off.

Glad 3 Linden, the brilliant, beautiful and
idolize ward of the president of the bank had
been stolen and no one could tell whither she
was taken.

One of those events was enough to strike
every citizen breathless; the two went beyond
and gave everybody his tongue.

The events were so prodigious of themselves
that we must for a time follow them separately.
though they soon became interwoven in a start-
linIg manner. .

t need not be said that the most skillful de-
tective agencies were set to work without an
hour’s unnecessary delay.

Budge Martin, the watchman, although badly
hurt was not mortally injured. His escape, as
his acquaintances maintained, was due to the
phenomenal thickness of his skull.

He was able to sit u and talk connectedly
with Cutt Whitney. t e detective, who was
admitted to his room, where he lay on his bed,
with his head heavily bandaged.

Tudor Carew, the president of the bank,
would have been present at the interview had
he not been utterly prostrated by the disappear-

 

ance of his niece and ward. Instant measures
were set on foot in that direction and the
utmost energy7 shown.

First of a l, the keen-eyed detective asked
Budge to tell his story in his own way, while he
listened attentively, occasionally asking an in-
cisive question.

Then he proceeded to question him.

“ You say that the voice of the man who
rattled the door closely resembled that of Mr.
Carew‘i”

“ I never seen two voices so much alike,” was
the reply of Budge, as be set down his glass of
water; “ I really think it was more like Mr.
Carew’s than Mr. Curew‘s is.”

“ And he referred to your little boy there by
a pet name?”

“ Yes; he spoke of DitDat-Dot, which the
same is the only name Mr. Carew calls him by,
and no one else does the same."

“ Did you get a glimpse of any one of the
burglui's’ faces?”

“No; I wish I had, but they kc t their black
cloths over their features so I (on dn’t see much
of nothiu’ except their eyes, which looked dread—
ful enough.”

“Did either of the parties address the other
by name?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“What did you bear?"

“ One of ’em was called ‘ Ash,’ and the other
‘ Fred,‘ but neither time was the tall man called
that, onless I'm mistaken.”

“ How often did you hear the name ‘ Asbl’ ”

“ Only once."

“ How often that of ‘ Fred?’ ”

“ Twice.”

“ Are you sure?”

“ There can’t be no mistake about it."

Detective Whitney bummed, and thoughtfully
rubbed his smoothly-shaveii chin, as he had a
way of doing when forcibly struck by some
new idea.

“ He heard it called twice," be reflected.
“ Now, if it had been only once, it would have
been an accident, but twice shows that more
than likely it was done on purpose—no doubt for
the benefit of Mr. Budge Martin.”

“ Do you know any one named Fred?"

“ Of course; Fred Melville is the bookkeeper." ‘

“ Where?”

" In the bank: why, I thought everybody
knowed that,” added Budge, forgetful of the
fact that there were a few other cities and
towns in the United States besides Asheville.

Mr. Whitney again rubbed his chin, and
bummed softly to himself.

There was little more to be obtained from the
battered watchman, and, after some unimpor-
tant inquiries, the detective took his leave.

The resence of the brilliant Cutt Whitney in
Ashev lie was known only to three persons, two
of whom were Mr. Carew, the president, and
aneman. the cashier.

Even Budge Martin thought he was anews-
paper reporter, who was arranging to have his

rtrait published in the daily papers, with a.
thrilling account of the daring exploit by which
the uardian had the wool ulled owr his eyes.

“ r. H neman," said t e detective, when
sure that e was alone with that gentleman;
“what kind of a man is your bookkeeper, Mr.
Melville?”

“ A model gentleman, in every respect. He in
attentive to his duties, intelligent, respectful
and a universal favorite.”

“ How many persons in the bank are no—
auainted with the combination by which the

cor of the vault is opened 1”

“ Only two; Mr. Carewland myself.”

“ Are you certain?"

“ Ab, hold on; Mr. Carew said the other day
that he would probably make a business trip
this week, which would take him away for an
indefinite time. He thought that the secret of
the combination should be in the possession of
two persons. and he asked me to give it to our
youn friend.” ' ‘

“ hom do on mean?”

“ Frederic elville, our bookkeeper."

“ Did you do as he suggested?" ;

“ I did, day before yesterday; it had slipped '
my mind altogether.”

Once more Cutt Whitney bummed and rubbed
his chin—the trail was becoming warm.

“ Where is this Mr. Melville?”

“ I cannot say.”

“ Why is he not on duty?"

“He was so shocked by the abduction of Min
Linden that he was unable to work. He asked
for a few days’ leave of absence and it was
granted.”

“Why should he be so affected by her min-
fortune?"

“ They are very fond of each other.”

“ Engaged ?"

“I cannot say, but I think so. though she in
an heiress and be is a poor man.”

“ When were they together last?” ' V _

“ Last night, at Ravenswold: he was her as-
cort: shortly after she was called home by the
bogus message. he too was'summoned away.“

The thumb and forefinger of the ofi'lcer soft!
moved along his chin, meeting beneath, Whig
he looked at the blank wall behind the cashier.

A few minutes later, Mr. Whitney was W

‘6 Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

 

ing so quietly around the streets of Asheville
that be attracted no particular attention.

He was in quest of information, and be ob-
tained lots of it; and it was suggestive too.

There could be no doubt that Budge Martin
had heard one of the masked burglars twice ad-
dressed by the name of Fred. Fred Melville
was the only party besides the president and
cashier of the bank who knew of the combina—
tion by which the treasures of the vault could
be reached.

Fred had left Ruvenswold at one o’clock at
night and did not return. This fact could be
established beyond proof.

There was naught beyond the assertion of the

oung man himself to make known what time
he reached home.

He had awakened his parents from a sound
sleep, but since nothing had been said by either
of them about the hour of the night, and no
means had been taken to learn it, the precise
time was beyond reach.

True, Budge Martin insisted that he heard the
town clock strike one, in addition to the glance
which he took at the clock, but it was easy for
him to be mistaken.

N o doubt the clock struck twice and he caught
but the single stroke, while in the dim light of
the bank, and with his spectacles, he coul lrcadi-
1y inter ret wongly the hands of the timepiece.

It loolied as if an inextricable web was weav—
ing around Fred Melville and, before the detec-
tive had progressed far along his line of investi-

ation, he had almost settled into the belief that
e was the guilty man.

But this conviction or rather suspicion was by
no means clear.

The universal popularity of the young man
his kindness to his parents, his intelligence an
manly qualities were all pictured to the oilicer
in such glowing colors that he could not repress
a. liking for him though the two had never met.

But the successful detective must know not h—
ing like friendshi or sentiment. T00 of ten, in-
deed, he is oblige to forget that man is given
such a thing as conscience.

And yet being a man, the most successful of
the profession can never dissociate himself en-
tirely from his better nature.

Cutt Whitney had gathered the points named
together With many others and sting them all
in his mental ledger they st something like
this:

Arrayed against the young man was the fact
undoubtedly establisher , that he was engaged in
marriage to Gladys Linden, a young lady pos-
Iessing ergo wealth.

What more natural than that he should be
anxious to procure the means with which to act
the rt of such a. favored individual?

ith the care of his parents on his hands and
hismoderate salary, such means could not be
ecured except by some bold stroke or lucky
turn of the wheel of fortune.

He had vanished from the grand enterth-
mcnt near the hour when the bank was robbed.
His whereabouts from the moment of his disap-
pearance until daylight could not be traced.

He was now absent under the plea of lending
his eflorts to rescue the missing Gladys Lin-

n.
This made a dark case, it must be admitted
st the young man, but the credit side was

not without its entries.
First, was the universal favor with which he

- was regarded and the fact that from his boy-

hood he had never been known to tell a. lie or do
a mean thing.

Men do not become wicked all at once, for vice
like virtue is a growth, and yet the scoundrel
may play the hypocrite for years without de-
tection.

So it would not do to attach too much weight
to that feature of too case.

The hour of the robbery as given by the
watchman and the time of Fred’s departure
from Ravenswold, if correct, rendered it im-

ible that Fred Melville should have had a
and in the robbery.

Doubtless a lawyer could make a good defense
for him on that ground alone; but standing by
itself it could scarcely save him, for the testi-
mony of such a man as Budge Martin could not
he easil shaken.

But t e single fact that threw the most doubt
into the mind of the detective was one that the
reader would never suspect, for it seemed a
trifle “ lighter than air."

CHAPTER VII.
A SLIP OF PAPER.

Tin: trifle which caused SO much doubt in the
mind of Cutt Whitne the detective was the de-
claration of Budge artin that he had heard
one of the burglars twice addressed by the name
of Fred.

The cause of the oflcer’s misgivng has already
been mentioned. Criminals at such times are
extremer careful about giving such palpable
claws. n the excitement of this occasion, a.
single sli might occur, but for the name to be
repeated ooked ver much as if it was done in-
tentionally, and wit the view of fastening sus-
picion upon an innocent party.

But the detective as yet was hovering only on

 

I file border line of his investigation.

 

 

Two separate messenger boys had been em-
gloyed to carry the misleading messages to
ladys Linden and Fred Melville; it was neces—
sarily to find and question those lads.
here was no difficulty in doing this.

The oflice of the Western Union Telegraph
Company employed a couple and they proved to
be the ones that were wanted.

The story of each was similar.

A number of prominent gentlemen from New
York were attendants at the entertainment
given by Mr. Leon Walsingham at Ravenswold,
among whom were a couple of leading oflicials
of the Telegraph Company. By their orders,
the local office was kept open all night in order
that some important dispatches might be sent
and received.

Several such passed over the wires after the
hour of midnight.

The two messengers were dozing in the oflice,
when a gentleman called for their services. He
wished to send two communications to different
parties at Ravenswold, and since each lad was
liberally feed they eagerly undertook the task,
executing it too with a promptness and faithful-
ness altogether phenomenal in their class.

After paying the office the regular fee, the
stranger, who was well dressed and without any—
thing specinlly striking in his appearance, met
the two messengers outside, and, while walking
in the direction of Ravenswold, gave them their
instructions.

The first was to deliver a sealed letter into the
hands of Miss Gladys Linden. The second was
to linger in the street outside until after her de-
pfrture, and then hand his message to Frederic

elville.

We have shown that these instructions were
carried out.

The stranger having paid the boys for their
serViccs in advance, disappeared, though it was
supposed that he remained in the Vicinity of
Raveuswold until he saw that his orders were
strictly followed.

The description of this stranger was so meager
that it was anything but satisfactory to the
officer.

He was well dressed, of ordinary hight, wore
a full beard and had a pleasant, musical voice.

The closest questioning and inquiries brought
nothing else to the surface. Consequently Cutt
Whitney was unable to form any suspicion of
his identi .

But one ighly important fact was established:
the robbery of the Ashcville Bank and the ab-
duction of Gladys Linden were planned and car—
ried out by the same combination of individuals.

“ And a single master mind and moving spirit
was behind’both,” was the conclusion of the offl-
cer; “he laid the daring plan and his lieuten-
ants carried it out.”

In movin about the pleasant little town in
which the stirring events had taken place, Cutt
Whitney several times encountered a middle—
aged gentleman, dressed In the garb of afarmer,
with a broad-brimmed hat and a winning sim-
plicity of countenance, which led most of the
townspeople to set him down for what he claim-
ed to be, Mr. Peleg White from New Hampshire,
who was looking for a married niece of his, that
had promised to go back to New England with
him on a visit to his relatives.

When Cutt Whitneiy and Uncle Peleg met, as
they occasionally di , they stared inquiringly
at each other, as though they were entire
strangers.

And yet they were two of the most intimate
friends in the world. Uncle Peleg, as he was
called, was the famous detective, known among
his friends as Zigzag. and a more brilliant officer
never ran a gang of Texan train—robbers or
bank burglars to earth.

Zigzag was in Asheville for the u ose of
tracing out the abductors of Gladys Iiin en and
restoring her to her friends. The manner in
which he went about his task will be told right
speedily.

It was early in the afternoon that Cutt Whit-
ney strolled out to the residence of Tudor
Carew, the President of the Asheville Bank, and
the uncle and guardian of the missing Gladys
Linden.

The officer had some important questions
which he wished to ask of that gentleman.

In answer to his inquiries in the hall, the
servant said that she would ask Mr. Carew
whether he felt well enough to hold an interview
with him.

The detective seated himself in the reception
zeoom, while the girl went above to see her mas-

r.

A man in the profession of Cutt Whitney
learns to keep his senses always with him, and to
allow not even the most trifling occurrence to
escape; for it is often that momentous results
de nd upon apparently insignificant causes.

itting in the room below stairs, in one of the
most quiet streets of the town. and in a house
where the stillness was as profound as that of
the tomb, the caller was able to hear every
movement in the room directly over his head.

He heard the servants knock gently on the
door, the summons to “Come in,” the opening
and partial closing of the dam, and then the
murmur of voices. As silently as a cat, Whit-
ney stepped into the hall and busied himself

 

arranging his hair in front of the little mirror
in the hatrack.

Thin is what he overheard:

“ Mr. Higgens did you say?" asked the bank
president.

“ That’s the name, sor, that he give me."

It should be stated that the name mentioned
was the one used b the detective in making his
investigations in sheville, and Tudor Carew
identified him at once.

“ I didn’t expect him.” said the latter, as if
nu leasautly disappointed by the call.

fter a moment’s hesitation he added:

“Send him up in about five minutes; I feel
rather weak, and I want to have time to remove
my clothing and lie down."

“ So the old gentleman is sitting up,” mut-
tered the detective, stepping back into the re—
ception-room 'ust as the servant emerged and
brought him t e message. “ I am glad to learn
that he is recovering from his prostration
caused by the abduction of his niece.”

Waiting a decorous time, the officer entered
the room of the bank president, who was stretch-
ed out in bed and looking quite feeble and dis~
tres .

He nodded faintly, like one who had but an
infant’s strength remaining, and, in answer to
his visitor’s apologies, remarked that he was
glad he had come, as he was glad to talk to some
one. His wife was so ill that she could see no
one besides the hysician. ‘

Replying to r. Carew’s inquiries, his caller
said that he had made little, if any, progress in
tracing the missing bank funds, and the crimi-
nals who had robbed the vaults. He hoped that
in the course of a few days he would secure
some definite clew.

Then Cutt Whitney asked several questions:

“ You told me, Mr. Carew, that the first news
you received of the disappearance of your niece,
was from Fred Melville?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ Have on any means of recalling the hour
at which e appeared in front of your house
with the knowledge?”

“ Rather curiously, I have. You may not
know that I wasstaggered by the blow, so much,
indeed. that if I had not caught hold of the gate
to support myself, I would have fallen to the
earth.”

“ I do not wonder.”

“ At that moment I began to rail from the
dreadful shock, I heard the town c ock strike
twice—so,” added the old gentleman. with a. wan
smile, “it mUSt have been near two o’clock
when Mr. Melville stopped with the terrible
news.”

The detective bummed to himself, and softly
rubbed his chin.

“Why do you ask?” demanded the sick man,
with a sudden interest, and sharp look into the
face of the man at his bedside.

“ I have no special reason, but I would like to
fix the movement of every party concerned in
this business. I am interested even in knowing
what you did.”

There was a purpose in this question. which
shot from the lips of the ofilcer with such brisk
abruptness, that a half angry flush flamed across
the face of the old gentleman, despite the guileless
smile on that of his visitor.

The observingleye of the latter missed nothing
in the room. e could have told, without the
unimportant words which he overheard, that
his best was sitting b the front window, read-
ing a daily paper an smoking a cigar, at the
time that Mr. Higgeus was announced.

The odor of tobacco smoke was in the room,
though the windows had been lowered, and the
paper lay on the floor where he had flung it
when preparing for bed. There were other evi-
dences of a hurried disrobing, and the caller no—
ticed particularly that the Vest of the bank
president was flung over the back of a chair in
a way which betokened haste and carelessness.

He also observed the corner of a slip of paper,
peeping just above the :(pper pocket of the vest,
the garment being fold in such a way that it
shut the aper from the sight of the Owner.

Cutt hitney determined to get possession of
that slip of paper.

“ That’s a fine painting,” he remarked, glanc-
ing admiringly up at a view called “ Sunset on
the Coast,” which was suspended against the
wall, ’ust above the chair supporting the vest of

r. arew.

“ Yes.” replied the latter, who had clns
his hands behind his head, and now looke in
the same direction as though the painting had
suddenly assumed a new interest to him; “ I

id fifteen hundred dollars for that at Burton’s
ast sale."

It was the most natural thing in the world
for the caller to step forward with the p
of gaining a better view of the painting in the
dimly-lit room.

It was the most natural thing in the world.
too, that he should lean one hand on the back of
the chair to support his weight while admiring
the work of art.

But the observing gentleman in bed failed to
note the stealthy action of the right hand of the
detective, the same bein hidden by his inter-

ing bail, and the resu t of which was that
he cove slip of paper in the vest pocket was

 

 

 

 

 

New —- - __...¢_.

Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives. 7'

 

 

transferred to a similar receptacle of the visitor,
and‘ that, too, without the slightest suspicious
movement on his part.

Had any one been watching the actions of Mr.
Cutt Whitney, he would have pronounced him a
professional pickpocket.

All the same he scored his point.

After some more unimportant inquiries, Mr.
Whitney bade his friend good-day, expressing
the hope that he would soon recover, and that
his beloved niece would be speedily restored to
him unharmed.

Once outside, when he had gone far enough to
feel secure against observation, Cutt Whitney
drew forth the slip of paper and folded it.

This was what he saw penciled within—only
this and nothing more:

“ 3315534+4222454242§ l 4115433242223443215154411
4434333444231542221l321521245315144423441515243
344232143445234245334423114444.”

“ Ah, ha,” smiled the detective, refolding the
slip and carefully depositing it Within his pocket-
book; “ I ain‘t worth a rush to unravel those
confounded puzzles, but I know a man who has
never been stumped, which his name just now
is Uncle Peleg and I will hand this over to him;
he will make short work with it.

CHAPTER VIII.
AN APPARITION.

WE have said that Gladys Linden recognized
the man who sat opposite to her in the carriage
in which she was whirled rapidly away from
Ravenswold.

He hastily entered the vehicle to escape the
drenching rain, and he continued smoking his
offensive cigar without so much as asking her
permission.

He evidently felt that the circumstances for-
bade any assumption of deference or courtesy.

His presence proved that he had taken a hand
in one of the most daring outrages ever known,
and to pretend now to any consideration for her
feelings, would be too much like the Sicilian
bandit who apologizes for the pain he causes his
victim when he pushes the fatal poniard be-
tween his ribs.

The hundred yards of smooth running. along
the lane, thickly lined on both sides with spread-
ing trees, whic even so late in au*umn. had
such a wealth of leaves clinging to their limbs
that they shut out most of the rain, and the car-
riage drew up in front of the covered porch of
an old-fashioned mansion. In the hall beyond a
light was brightly burning, although no person
was observable moving about the premises, nor
did any one open the door from within torc-
ceive the visitors.

Hardly had the carriage halted, when the
young lad ’s escort flung his cigar out of the
window w ich he had lowered, pushed the car-
riage door open, stepped out, and turned
around.

The light that came through the glass over
the broa massive doors inclosed the carriage so
that the movements of all three were perceptible
to each other.

“ Now, if you will move quickly,” said the
man, in a not un leasant voice, “ you will not
get more than a op of rain on you.”

Durin the few minutes occupied in coming
up the ne, Gladys Linden had done a vast
amount of thinking, and had decided on her
course of action.

Nothing was clearer to her than that it would
be unwise to scream, hold back or resist—except
of course, in an extremity. She could not stay
in the carriage 1 night, nor could she es-
cape her abductors by any sudden break for
freedom.

The fact that they had been able to bring her
thus far from home, was clear proof that they
were prepared for an ' emergency.

To the sur rise, therefore, of her escort,
Gladys instant y rose from her seat, placed her
delicate foot on the step of the carriage, accepted
the offered hand of the man and dropped lightly
upon the broad stone, which was but a few
inches below the side of the vehicle.

“ Thank you, Mr. Buckholtz." she said. in her
ngracmus manner; “ you are extremely

in .

“ Rather say extremely honored,” he replied,
with a. rin which was visible in the dim
light despite his all—enveloping mustache and

“ Hardly
unwilling."

“ But it is none the less an honor because of
that.”

With the grace of a cavalier he escorted her
the few steps to the door, which was opened
without the use of a key. The carriage was
heard rolling away as the two passed within, and
the man addressed as Mr. Buckholtz closed it
behind them.

Gladys found herself within a broad, band-
somely caigpeted hall, with a massive hat-rack
on the le t. doors opening on either hand, a
bright light. surroun ed by figured and colored
glass, burning overhead, and expansive winding
stairs beyond. ‘

Shestood looking calmly in the face of the
man as if awaiting his orders. Before he could
spec , she said:

 

so, when the honor on my part is

 

“ Mr. Aaron Buckholtz, what does this
mean?”

He had removed his fine silk hat, which glis-
tened more dazzlingly than usual because of the
wetting it had received, and with the same
courtly grace he had shown from the first, bowed
low and smiled.

“ The hour is rather late for an extended con-
versation, which I assure you 1 protest against
out of consideration for you alone. To me it
would be the highest happiness to spend an hour
listening to your charming sentences, even
though perforce they were tiucturcd somewhat
with gall. I am hopeful that I shall have many
opportunities before being deprived of your
Company.”

Gladys was at u loss to reply to this astonish—
ing utterance. She continued ‘gazing fixedly
into the evil face before her, and, with another
how. the man added:

“ If you will be kind enough to ascend the
stairs and enter the door on the left, you will
find your apartments prepared for you. I beg
you to receive my assurance that you are per-
fectly safe, and that you will not sufl'cr the least
disturbance. Bon jour."

What reply could be made to such amazing
utterances? None, and the lady did not attempt
any.

Without so much as acknowledging his salu.
tation, she moved lightly up the broad steps,
and, following the directions of her eScort, en-
tered the first door which presented itself on her
left.

A succession of surprises awaited her.

She passcd into a large. flnely~furnishcd room,
in which was all the furniture, and, in truth,
more than she could need. Tables, stands,
chairs, a damask lounge, rich carpet, fine paint-
ings on the walls—indeed everything that a lady
of taste could wish were at her command.

Beyond, was the sleeping apartment, all the
appointments as erfect as can be found in a
modern city dwe ling.

Gladys paused in astonishment, and stared
around her. A brilliant lamp, suspended from
the ceiling of the large room, illuminated both
apartments, so that every object was in full
VleW.

“ Am I dreaming?" she murmured. moving
slowly hither and thither, and scrutinizing the
various articles of furniture and ornament.

She actually pinched her fair arm to make
sure. The sharp pain told her that she was
wide awake and everything was real.

The most strikin fact was the truth of the
remark of Aaron uckboltz, her escort, to the
Effect that the apartments were prepared for

er.

Across each window were stretched a number
of iron bars. such as are found in prisons and
lunatic asylums. Since they had not been
alaced recently in position, it was probable that

larlys Linden was not the first person who had
suffered confinement behind them.

At the side of the larger room was an opening
through which a dumb-waiter could be raised
and lowered; in fact it may be said that there
was nothing lacking to ma 9 the imprisonment
of an person as comfortable as ible.

Su denly Glad s thought of t 9 door that she
had closed behin her on entering the room.

Could she not slip through that, down stairs
and out before discovery! She would not hesi-
tateto flee through the storm and darkness. any-
where to escape her captors.

Stepping quickly and softly to the door she
turned the knob.

But the same disappointment of the carriage

awaited her; it could not be drawn inward as 2

much as a hair’s breadth.

It had either fastened itself when she drew it
to. or some one had secured it after her en-
trance.

It mattered little how it was done; sufficient
was it that she was a prisoner.

Little sleep came to the fair occupant of the
prison that night. Her brain was in such a
whirl that she could not rest. She reclined on
the lounge, leaning her head on her hand and
thinking, thinking, thinking

What could she do? Evidently nothing, but
wait, hope and pray.

Never did hapless captive send more urgent

leadings to Heaven than did poor Gladys

inden, as she knelt beside the lounge and
poured out her very soul in an agon of suppli—
caticn to her Heavenly Father for re ief.

Finally. toward morning. as she lay on the
loun e without disrobing, she sunk into a fever-
ilsh Sumber which lasted far into the next

av.
W hen she roused herself and looked around. it
was severe minutes before she could recall
where she was. Realizing her situation she
sprung to her feet, and ran to one of the win-
dows.

The sun was high in the heavens and shining
from an unclouded sky. Hardly a trace of the
night’s storm remained. and the clear. crisp
autumn air would have enlivened the spirits of
an one less oppressed by grief than hers.

here was such a wealth of trees. mostly oak,
around the building that the view of the prisoner
was imperfect in every direction. She was able
tocatch a glimpse of broad, spreading fields,

 

the learning surface of a pond and a stretch of
woofis beyond. Not a living creature was in
sight, if a. small bird be excepted which flew
back and forth among the limbs, singing and
tw1ttering, as if it bore some message for

er.

Nor could the listening ear detect a sound of
life within the building. She paused at the door,
and moved hither and thither, but profound still-
ness reigned everywhere.

It occurred to her that the anso gown through
which the dumb-waiter ascended and esccnded
mi ht help, and she stopped to that.

' but it ad been movcd recently was provcn
by the presence of a warm cup of coffee, some
rolls and a well cooked chop.

The sight and odor of these brought something
like an appetite to the young lady, who with a.
little hesitation made a good meal therefrom.

Replacing the vessels on the shelf. she waited
ttl) see them descend, but no such movement took
p ace.

Gladys was confident that she would receive A
call from Mr. Buckholtz, but the dreary after-
noon wore away without any one opcning the
door leading to her room, and it was n ith a feel-
ing of indescribable depression and sadness that
she saw the shadows of night infolding her once
more.

“ Surely some one will come to me,” she
thought, “ for the lamp must be lit and there
must be a woman in the house."

A couple of hours after night had fully come,
and the apartment was wrapped in darkness,
she, still sitting by the window, observed that
the moon was shining quile brightly—more so
indeed than on the pi'ekus night when she left
Rawnswold in the carriage which she supposed
would take her home.

“ If this continues much longer I shall go
wild—”

Her heart gave a throb. for under the tree
nearest to her window, she discerned the fl ure
of a man, moving stealthin around and loo ing
upward.

Something in his appearance struck her as
familiar. At first she thought it was Fred Mel-
ville, but a second glimpse showed her her mis-
ta 'e.

Still she was sure it was an acquaintance and
she held her breath.

Suddenly in moving about. the moonlight fell
upon the upturned countenance and the startled
Gladys uttered a suppressed scream and called
him by name.

 

CHAPTER IX.
A mass or FIGURES.

Anon'r the middle of the afternoon. Cutt
Whitney the detective was strolling along the
streets of Asheville. when he met the verdant
looking old gentleman known as Uncle Peleg
White.

They stared at each other as they passed. but
did not speak, nor show any evidence that either
remembered to have met the other before: but
had any one. been watching them closely, he
would observe that Cut made a peculiar sign,
with the hand which he drew slowly across his
chin, in accordance with the habit that has
already been noted.

The reply of Uncle Peleg was still slightcr, but
it was easily read by the other, and apprised
him that his request had been understood and
would be granted.

An hour later. Uncle Peleg strolled back to
the hotel where he was stopping cross and out of
sorts. ‘

“ Consarn it!” he exclaimed to the clerk;
“ everytnin goes wrong with me.”

“ What's appsned?“ asked the official with a

I‘m.

‘ Enough I should think to make any man as
cross as p’izen. That niece of mine. Saramantha,
started from Asheville fur New Hampshire
about the same hour I reckon that I started
from New Hampshire for Asheville; ain’t that
enough to make a man strike his grandmother?"

“It might be Worse: but all you have to do is
to set out for New Ham pshire.h

“That shows all you know ’bout it. Some
folks think they’re mighty smart. Then she‘ll
start bum ag’in and we’ll meet on the road and
so keep see-so wing. back and forth. till we die of
old age or get blowcd up by some b‘iler of -
steamboat or locomotive.”

“ What are you going to do?"

“ I’m going to sot down here and wait for her
to come back, if I have to stay till I take
root.”

“ No need of that; you can telegraph to your
folks.” ‘ f

“ Hang the tele, raphl I don‘t believe in ’rm;
I’m so mad that ’m half .sick. and if you’ll let
me have my key I’ll go to my room and 1a.:
down for an hour or two. If I get asleep, don
forgit to call me for supper, for I’ve got a treo
menjns appetite since I’ve come to this ’ero
town.”

The obliging clerk assured Uncle Peleg that
he should not be forgotten, and the old gentle-
man swung heavxly upstairs to his apartment
on the topmost floor.

A half hour later, Whitney sauntered info
the office of the hotel and asked for the key of
his room. His manner was that of a brisk bud.-

 

8

Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

 

ness man, who felt under no obligations to ex-
plain the reason why he wished to spend a brief
time ir privacy.

It so happened that his apartment was also
on the upper floor and within a few doors of
Uncle Peleg's.

“Come in,” said the latter, when he recog-

nized th< familiar knock, and Whitney. glun— ,

(:ing‘ around, to make sure he was not observed.
stepped softly within and locked the door behind
him.

“ Well what i»: it, Catt?" asked Uncle Pi-leg,
using his natural manner, and making the query,
after th" two had exchanged some other (lili‘S<
tious and answers: “ how are you making out t"

“ Only fairly; how are you doing?“

“No better; I llflVt'ii’L struck a mitisfactory ‘

clew yet, though I am in the shadow of several.

There are some circumstances which puzzle me '

very much.“

" It isn’t the firs" time you have been puzzled
~—that is fm a while, but you generally manage
to dig your way out.”

“ Yes; I’ve been pretty SLICCessfiil—thnt is
for me, but man is fallibln- and We are too wise
to let the world know all of the tremendoas
blunders we make.”

“ You have one advantage over me,” said
Whitney, half—regretfully.

“ What is that?"

“ I am the only person in Asheville who sus<
poets your identity.”

“ Are you sure of that?"

“There can be no doubt of it. Mr. Carew

knows that thc must : killful detective that can ‘

be found in the country is at work, but he does
not believe it, is you.”

“Nor does any one else,” laughed Zigzag.
“ But it was necessary he should know that we
were not idl~-, for a man in his distressing situa;
tiou cannot i'cx't under the knowledge that any
thing is being neglected to rescue his niece; but
I prefer to Work on independent lines and in my
own way."

“ But there are others at it?"

“ Yes,” replied Zigzag, impatiently; “ that’s
the Worst of it. These amateurs are always
putting in their cars, and the result is they
double our difficulties. Fred Melville, I under-
stand, has gone ofi’ to New York on what. he
thinks is a clew, and there’s no telling where
the others are. I have already tumbled over
half a dozen."

Whitney now told the somewhat-startling
facts which seemed to connect young Melville
with the bank robbery.

“I heard that, and a little more,” uietly re—
marked Zigzag, when his friend was t rough.

" Do you suspect the young man had anything
to do with the burglary?”

“ I shouldn’t be surprised if he had,” was the
cool reply of Zigzag. “ He is poor, ambitious,
and expects to marr Gladys Linden. He sup-
ports his father an mother, and his salary
will not allow him to take the young heiress
to many birthday entertainments at Ravens-
wold.”

It struck Catt Whitney that this was a
rather heartless way of referring to a oung
man for whom he had formed, in spite 0; him-
self, a peculiar partiality; but, as may be said,
the profession of the detective is the most heart-
less of all professions.

“However,” added Zigzag, as if he read the
thoughts of his friend, “it is too soon to speak
with certainty; there is only one important fact
clear—the abduction of the young lady and the
robber of the bank are two branches of the one
tree—t 9 same combination was concerned in
each, and one arch-miscreant directed both.
The identit of that master mind is the problem
for us to so ve.”

“ Have you any theory?”

“ The detective who sets out with a. theory is
a fool; for, having such,he will compel every in-
cident and claw to conform to that, instead of
leaving his mind blank for the claws and inci-
dents to build their own theory upon; therefore,
I have no theory."

The farmer-looking old gentleman who sat on
the edge of the bed, swinging his feet back and
forth and puffing a cigar looked as if he hardly
knew the meaning of the word “ theory,” but
all the same. there was an odd twinkle of his
bright eyes, which convinced Cutt Whitne that
he had formed a conclusion as to the identity of
that moving spirit in the dark business which
nothing but the strongest evidence could ever—
turn.

But it was useless to question him. If Zigzag
chose to keep his own counsel, no ordinary
power could move him.

Only one incident awaited telling by Whitney;
that was the story of the sli of paper which he
had deftly extracted from t e pocket of Tudor
Carew in the sick room of the latter.

The eyes of the great Zigzag fair] sparkled
when he listened to this. He stoppei swinging
his feet, held his cigar motionless between his
teeth and eagerly reached out for the paper
which possessed unusual interest for him.

One of the boasts of Zigzag was that he had
never yet found a. cryptogram or piece of cipher-
writing which he was unable to analyze and
lvivhliliso hidden meaning he could not bring to

g .

No lover opening a missive from his beloved
ever devoured the contents with more ravishing
delight than did he feast upon the seemingly
meaningless array of figures.

Let us give them again, for it is necessary to
do so:

‘ ‘ :3:i1553+14423454243141 1543324222344321515+41
, 2 3444231; 22721l3215::12453151-1—1453544151524

3itM232+$~l+523§l3~l35442ol 14-1-14. ”

i W'hitney kept his eyes fixed on the face of his

" friend, whose brows were contracted while he

studied the bewildering array.

“I guess heis stumped this time,” thought
, Catt. “and it is no discredit to him if he is.“

l Several minutes pasmd, during which Zigzag

did not sewn to breathe. He held his cigar

l pressed tightly between hislips, and with tho

, whole energy of his brain concentrated upon

1 the task.

i “ I guess you’ll have to give it up,” suggested

! IVhitney, at the 1‘lld of ton or more minutes.

i “ I guess I won‘t 1" r4 plied the other, raising
his eyes from the slip of paper, with an odd
smile, while he puffed hard at his cigar that had
nearly gone out.

i “ Well if you can make anything of it, let us

3 know its meaning.”

| “ Those figures read as plainly as any script

r Can read, ‘Nmrt Thursday night like! at 0.

Other game fixed. Three in. this, two in

that, T.”’

Whitney thought his friend was jesting, sce-
ing which Zigz-ig rose from the bed, and, draw-
ing out a pencil, sat down in a chair near the
stand.

“ Let me explain; here, look over my shoul~
der and you Will quickly catch on. The cipher
is one of the oldest known. I have been famil-
iar with it for years, and do not consider it. one-
half so difficult as many others that I have
figured out. It is written on an ancient Greek
method which required that every letter shall
be represented by two figures. Some one letter
previously agreed upon—~and which in this case
is J—-—is dropped from the alphabet. There is no
J in the sentences I have given, but if there
was, it would be shown by the ciphers. The
twenty-five letters remaining are represented in
the form of asquare thus:

 

1 33 3 4 5

a. f l q v—l
b E m r w—2
c n s x—3
d i o t y—4
e k p 11 2—5

“Each letter is symbolized by the figures
found by the intersection of a. vertical witha
horizontal line. Thus,” added Zigzag, “ to find
the figures for ‘a,’ we take its vertical figure
which is 1; then its horizontal figure which is
also 1 and these together make 11.

“Now you will observe that the first two
figures are 33; looking at the table which I have
formed, you observe that the only figure in the
vertical column 3 and in the horizontal column
8 is ‘n;’ the next con let is 15:, the letter ‘0’ is
in vertical line 1 an the horizontal line 5; so
Ellistthe first two letters of our sentence are

e.

“It is not necessar for me to go through

the law which governs the cipher from begin-
ning to end. Applying that law you will find
the translation precise y as I have given it.”

Catt Whitney solemnly straightened up and
made a low obeisance.

“ I bow to my master; if you will permit, I
will take your hand.”

“ Wal, I’ll be consarnedl” exclaimed Uncle
Pele , struggling so clumsily to his feet, that he
knoc ed the stand over; “ I alwa s knowed you
didn’t know much, Cutt,” he ad ed, as he took
his hand, “ but if you’ll try hard you’ll manage
to show the world that you ain’t such a big fool
as you look. Don’t be discouraged, my son.”

CHAPTER X.
F A C E 'r o F A c E .

PEERING through the iron bars which held
her a. terrified ca tive within the unknown
prison, Gladys Lin en looked down at the up-
turned face that she was sure she had seen hun-
dreds of times before, and the sight of which
now thrilled her with the wildest hope.

It was the face of her uncle, Tudor Carew!

Yes; she was sure that it was he. standing
with folded arms, peering at the barred window,
as if striving to learn in what part of the
strange house she was held prisoner.

“Oh. Uncle Tudor,” called the fair captive
pressing against the cruel bars, “ how thankful

am that you have found me; I am here—here
in t?h,e room over your head, can you not see
me ‘

Still, the face of the man, looking strangely
pale in the moonli ht that fell upon it, was
turned upward. an his folded arms and limbs
remained motionless. .

Gladys noticed the gleam of the eyes, the fixed
look and the statue—like posture.

Once she fancied she could detect a movement
of the lips, as though he was trying to utter
something but could not.

 

 

every letter in this has ion, for I have explained.

 

“ Uncle, why do you not speak to me? It is I,
your own Gladys; wicked men brought me to
this place, and you have come for me; do you
not know me?"

And the heart-broken girl reached her fair
arms between the bars and outward, as though
she would clasp the loved one that had been such
a good parent to her.

But alas! she could not and the lips of the up—
turned face were still mute.

A dreadful fear came over the maiden.

“He is dead," she, gasped; “and it is not be
but his apparition which I seel”

In a desperate effort to shake off the horrible
spell, she turned away from ihe window, and,
going to thi- mantle where she had noticed the
matches through thi- day, she ignited one,
mounted a chair and lit the lamp in the middle
of the room.

Something like a reaction of spirits came over
her, when the room was bathed in the rich, gol-
den light and hope again stirred her heart.

“ Of course that was Uncle Tudor,” she said,
with a strange laugh as she leaped down from
the chair; “ he could not understand why I was
here, but now he will know and he will be as
glad and happy as I am.”

Hurrying back to the window, she called out.

“You see. me now, uncle; I cannot tell you
how glad I um—"

She ceased abruptly, for she had become
aware, in looking down, that her relative had
vanished. Her straining eyes could catch no
glimpse of him.

The same, vague awful fear once more took
possession of her.

It was not her loved uncle upon whom she had
looked but an apparition.

Naturally strong minded she was a prey to as
little superstition as any of her sex, but that
weakness runs to a renter or less degree through
the make-up of us a. ,” and she shuddered, as she
recalled that silent, motionless figure beneath her
window, headless of her soulful plea. for recog-
nition.

“ It was not he,” she thought, again, “but his
spirit."

Moving to the lamp over the center of the
room, she turned down the light, so that only a
dim illumination filled the apartment with its
ghostly gloom.

Seatin herself by the open window, she yield-
ed to sa , sorrowful meditations.

" Nearly twenty-four hours havo passed since
I was so cruelly decoyed from home; why I
have been brought here is more than I can guess;
Aaron Buckholtz asked for in hand nearly a
year ago; I treated him kin ly, but assured
him that I never could love him; for even that
early my heart was given to Fred, the best and
noblest of men; he went away sad and hopeless,
but he uttered no threat against me, and he is
the last person I would have suspected of this
great wrong: but that he is the author cannot
bedoubted, since he did not hesitate. to make
himself known.

“ Is be holding me for the purpose of ransom?
If so, it is time that some word passed between
him and my friends; such may have been the
case without me knowing anything of it.

“ Can it be that he hopes to persuade me to
become his wife in order to save me from a
dreadful fate?

“ I am sure he. cannot be so base as ~that—”

A soft. rustling noise caused Gladys to start
apid withdraw her gaze from the moonlight wt-
51 9.

She fancied she heard the door opened and
closed. but accommodating her viSIon to the
faint light in the room, she observed that the
door was shut, as it had been ever since she
closed it behind her the night before.

But what did her eyes behold in the middle of
the apartment?

The figure of a man, standing erect, with his
hands hanging by his side and his burning gaze
fixed upon her.

It was the same fl re that she had seen a
short time before un er her window, and to
which she had so vainly appealed.

It was the apparition of her uncle, Tudor
Carew, the ale face and features unmistakable
in the dim i lamination of the room.

He was s'anding directly beneath the chan-
delier, as though he had risen through the floor,
and was ready at a moment‘s notice to vanish
again into the nothingness from which he had
sprung.

Gladys was transfixed, speechless and breath-
less, not doubting that it was a disembodied
spirit which she saw before her.

But the spell lifted the next moment, when the
form, with the unquestionable tread of a living

rson, advanced several steps and seated itself
in a chair a few feet from the lady.

As he did so, be pronounced the single word,

" Gladys I”

The voice broke the awful chain by which the
lady was held. The floodgates were loosed, and
her soul outfiowed.

Leaning forward, she extended her arms, and
in low, passionate tones wailed:

“ Oh. uncle! I saw you under my window!
Why did you not speak to me? I feared it was
your spirit that had come to warn me of your
death. How came you here? How came I

 

   
 

i
‘
i.
i
l
’
5
‘i

 

p.» “mp”...

 

 

 

 

ii;
i .

  
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
  
 
  
  

Zigzag and Clint, the 

     

.,,i ,9 _. ,.

le Detectives:

   

 

here? Make clear these horrible doin s! What
Would they have with me? Spea , speak,
speak! for my heart is breaking!" ,

“Gladys, from the bottom of my heart, I
pity you! I am not an apparition, and I am not
your Uncle Tudor I” .

“ Not my Uncle Tudor!” gasped the astounded
Gladys; “ surely you are jesting, or my senses
have left me.’l ,

“ I am not esting, nor are your senses pla ing
on false. repeat I am not your ncle
udorl” -

“ In the name of Heaven, who am you ?"
asked the maiden, shrinking back in her chair
and withdrawing her extended arms.

“I am his twin brother Warren; for years I
have lived in this lace and have hover been out
of sight of this bui ding: Iain a hopeless invalid;
your uncle comes to see me at long intervals”

“ But I have never heard him speak of you.”

“ No, and probably you never will; a baleful
shadow rests on our past lives, and my brother
never mentions me to any one; it has been so
understood between us smce the terrible pall
fell across our threshold. You would never have
grail-(Lot it now, but for your presence at Oak

a .

“ And why am I here P Why was I decoyed
from my home last night? What do they in—
tend to do with me? How long am I to sta
here? Tell me, oh, tell me, what all this drea -
ful mystery means.”

The words came fast and fierce from the lips
of Gladys, who leaned forward again in her
anguish, as though she would clasp the knees of
the grave—looking person in front of her.

His manner was in impressive contrast to
hers. He was cool and slow of speech, seemin
to weigh each word as it was uttered, while, a
the time, his burning gaze was fixed upon her.
He appeared absolutely to feel no emotion what-
ever.

So grave and impassive indeed was he, that
at times a shivering thrill passed over the young
lady at the thought that after all it was not
real flesh and blood that was holding converse
with her.

There was something so uncanny in his ap-
pearance and manner, that the feeling was war-
ranted, though by a. great effort she was able to
shake it off.

Pausing in her impassioned questions, she
waited for his reply.

But he remained silent, with his penetrating .

gaze riveted upon her face.

“ When did you see my uncle last?” she asked,
seeking to break the oppressive restraint.

“ Many days have passed and many more will
come and go before we shall look upon each
other again: wh do you ask?” .

“ 0h Uncle arren, I do not know what to
thinknor say; I implore you to clear up this
frightful mystery. Tell me why I was brought
here and what fate is in store for me. ”

The answer to these agonized questions came

at _last, prefaced however, by the singular in-

quiry:
“Glad 5, do you love your Uncle Carew l”

‘_‘ Do love .him? I would lay down my life
this moment to save him from any suffering.”

“ foken like the noble girl that you are and
that have often heard him declare you to be!
You say you would do anything to save him
pain. even to the laying down of your life?”

" Giadly, eagerly would I do so.”

“ It is in your power to save him from dis-
grace, from wretchednms and fro a shameful
death; but you will not be asked yield your
life to do that.” r

“You take away my breath! You mystil'y
me more than ever!" ‘ ‘

“ Gladys, do you love Fred Melville?”

The dim illumination in the room hardly con-
cealed the tell-tale flush that overspread the
beauteous countenance, as she softly murmur-
eL :
“He has my heart and I have his: we love
each other, deeply, truly, devotedly,unreserved-

“ Would you be- willing to give him up to
save your uncle from the niostterrible fate that
can befall a human being?”

\‘ A moan of anguish surged from the bleeding
heart of the cor girl and she leaned forward as
it about to slot: but. by a supreme eflort, she
recovered herself and remained upright in her
chair. ,

“ Are you sure the sacrifice is necessary?” she
asked, in a weak, pitiful voice. ~ _

“ It is; but you are distressel more than I
supposed you would be. Rest' quiet until the
morrow—you will not be disturbed. I will see
you again, and everything shall be made clear.
Go: nd-nigbt." ‘

She scarcely saw or heard him as he rose and
softly passed out of the room, leaving her alone
in her unspeakable sorrow and desolation.

CHAPTER XI.
A SOLITARY HORSEMAN.

IN the rush of events we must not lose sightpf
one indiv1dual whose concern in these occur-
rences was as deep. profound and soul-stirring
as the human heart is capable of feeling.

From the moment the fearful truth of the ab
duction of his beloved broke‘ upon him, Fred

 

 

Melvdlo had not closed on eye in sleep nor had
he been quiet in body: his mind was in a whirl,
which at times threatened to play havoc with
his wits.

Without waiting for the help of the local
officers and the detectives who. he understood,
were summoned at once from New York, he set
about investigating the business for himself. It
was the only relief for his surcharged emotions.

Quackery sometimes succeeds where science
fails. and stupidity often strikes the truth at the
first fire, while the most skilled aim goes wide of
the mark. .

As Soon as Fred was able to think with some-
thing like coolness, he set about the task of trac-
ing his beloved.

. As for the fortune that had been abstracted
from the vaults of the Ashevillo Bank, he cared

nothing for that; it did not havea feather‘s .

weight against the or“ of Gladys. _

There was little t at could be done during the
remaining hours of the night. but on the inor-
row, bright and early, he was at work.

He secured a leave of absence from the bank,
and, without calling to his aid any person, and
without making any inquiry as to what the
officials were doing, he went at his task with the
enthusiastic vigor of one who is determined to
win or die in the effort.

His first natural act was to hunt up the mes-
senger boys that had delivered the respective
messages to him and Gladys.

They were readily found, but the result, it
need hardly be said, was similar to those of the
detectives, Zigzag and Cutt Whitney.

He next set out to trace the carria and
driver. Zigza had been before him in t is ef-
fort, and since a made a total failure of it, it
was not in the nature of things that young Fred
Melville should do any better.

During all this period, Fred fortunately re-
mained unsuspicious of the web which fate was,
weaving about him in connection with the rob-
bery of the bank. .

The fact that the team, carriage and driver
could not be traced was proof that they did not
belong in Ashoville; they.niust have come from
a distance. _ _

It was easily established that no suspicwus
stran ers had left by the single railway station
in As eville.

The replies to the messages sent by the au-
thorities to the adjacent stations and towns

failed to bring back the least information re-
‘ spectingtheni. . '
i

The scouraging truth seemed established
that an unknown carriage had entered and do.
parted from Asheville, taking Gladys Linden in
it, and whither it had gone was the troublesome
problem t'; at remained to be solved. -

There were fully a dozen avenues by which a
vehicle could leave the town, and since it might
stop within five or ten miles or continue its
flight for fifty, it will be seen that the task of
all5 parties concerned was of an herculean na-
ture. ‘

Zigzag was not able to find a person who had
seen the carriage after it had gone a hundred
yards from Ravenswold the night before.

He found plenty who claimed to have seen it,

but a little ingenious 'questionlng convinced.

Uncle Peleg' that they were falsifying.

What more torturing situation of body and,
mind than that of the devoted champion, eager
to strike the needed blow for his beloved, and
yet who daes not know where to deliver it?

The thought was maddening that Gladys was
in the pOWer of some conscienceless miscreants,
and that neither Fred nor any of her friends
could raise a finger effectively to help her.

But they could try to do so, and try they did
with a will.

Yielding to one of those unaccountable fancies
which sometimes take possession of us,
Melville visited New York in the hope, rather
than the belief that some trace of the robbers
and abdiictors could be secured there.

A couple of hours spent with the inspectors
and the vigilant superintendent of the Police
Department convinced him that he had gone
thither upon a Quixotic errand, for the officials
whose business it was to trace out crime in "all
its lurking-places, were sure to perform that

duty infinitely better than could'a. stranger to

the city as, well as to the rofessiou.

By nightfall, Fred was ack in Asheville, im—
patient with himself that he had given way to a
whim that never promised any success.

The one comforting truth that he learned was
that the most competent detectives money could
procure were engaged in the business, and that
if success was poss1ble, they could be counted
upon to gain it.-

lt was not unnatural for the devoted lover to
attribute the abduction of Gladys to the infatu-
ation of more than one party. Since she was
the most lovely, the most fascinating, the most
irrem‘stible lady that ever graced the earth with
her presence, it was inevitable that others should
hold the same glowing faith.

“ I do believe,” he added to himself. with a
short, passionate p, “ that if I could get her
in no other way, would steal and run of! with
her, just as the knights used to do in the olden
times.” i

It was growing dark when Fred, having fin-

ished his tea, bade his parents good-b for a.
time and walked in the d rection of Mr. arew’s I
house. He had inquired in the mornia after
him, but we unable to see him, and be fe t that
it was his duty to call and pay his respects; be-
sides which he wished to learn whether the old
gentleman had received any news for him.

In answer to his in uiries, he was told that
the bank resident dl not feel well. He was
suffering mm the excitement caused b a pro-
longed interview in the afternoon. I. c hoped
he would be able to see his young friend on the
niorrow, but it would be hardly prudent to do
so that evening.

Leaving his regards and best wishes, Fred
turned about and came through the gate upon
the street again.

He had walked but a few stops, when he came
face to face with an honestrlooking old farmer
who was gaping right and left, through his
~ spectacles, as Vhough he had never seen such a
- thing as strect lamps and a town of several thou-

sand inhabitants.
“ Good-eyeiiing,” said the stronger, with that:
l politeness which leads a man living in the mun-—
try to speak to every one whom he meets: “ can
you tell me where if r. ’l‘ooter Caroo lives?"

“ In that house yonder,” courteously replied
Fred Melville: “ l have just called and he is 100
ill to see any one.”

“ Wal. I’ll be consumed!” muttered Uncle
Pelcg; " I’ve had the blamedest luck ever since
I struck this old town.”

“ What did you want of him?” asked Fred,
glad of the relief of a little by-play like that
which was promised.

“His cousin used to know my brother-in-law,
up in New Hampshire, and before I go back
home, I thought I would call and spend two or
three days with him. If he don’t feel well, I
don’t s’pose it would be best to stop in, would
it?”

“ Hardly,” replied Fred, smiling at the assur—
ance of the simple-hearted old gentleman.

“They charge so all-fired much at the hotel,
that it would save me a good deal if I could
bunk in with him, but the place looks so grand,”
added Uncle Peleg, glancing with an awed look
of admiration at the fine residence, “that I’m.
afeard that I wouldn’t feel to burn. Wu], good—
night,” and the old fellow moved on, while Fred,
not a little entertained by his simplicity, con—
tinned his walk in the direction of his our)
home.

“ It is the second night of her disap arance.”
mused the lover, sinking again into is fearlur
dejection of spirits, “ and not the first knowledge
has been ained of her. 0b, where is she at this
minute? 8 she alive ol‘ dead? If alive. what-
does she think of me who ought to be at hcr
side, risking my life for her? Why am I so
bound and helpless, when she needs my st‘ong
an?” and sustaining love in her awful extrem-
ity

Fred had walked but a short distance, when it
occurred to him that he had not inquired of the
servant whether her master had received any
news of his missing niece. .

He was yet in the neighborhood of the house,
and he stopped, undecided whether he ought to
go back or defer his call until the marrow. ‘ '

The young man’s situation was such that he
was in full view of the building and the iron
room in which the proatrated man lay. Th
curtain was up, so that a partial sight of the iii~ ‘
terior was obtained. 1‘ l ' , '

Looking up at the side window, Fred was sur~‘ '
prised to scan figure move across the room. _It
was that of a man, fully dressed and attired in
along overcoat buttoned to his chin. _ .

Approaching the window, he glanced out, an
if to assure himself of the state of the Weather.
His action disclosed his face, as shown by the ‘ »
brignht gas which illuminated the room. . ‘_

T s man was Tudor Carew, President of the
Asheville Bank. . v

“ That's a curious proceeding for a sick man.” _
was the natural thought of Fred Melville; “he
must have recovered very suddenly.” I ‘

The spectator took a couple of steps, with the.
gurpose of uestioning him when he came out,~

ut check himself. - ,

“lt maybe he doesn’t wish to see me; I'll ,
wait.” ,

Mr. Carew, having satisfied himself regard- .'
ing the weather, drew down. the curtain and
vanished from sight. I. ,,

The street, aswe have said, was one of the '
most quiet and retired in Asheville. In the pro- ,
found stillness of the night, the watcher and . “
listener heard the slightest sounds. ',

Thus he distinctly caught the noise made by 
the opening and closing of one of the rear doors
of the dwelling: then he heard the brisk step of
some one, and then, after a moment’s silence. the
clamp of a. horse’s 'hoofs Over the sodded car-1
riageway which ran alongside the huildiu ands
connected the barn and stables of Mr. arew "*
with the public highway. . *‘

~ This was always 0 n and without a gate, so.
that his carriage and ones could enter and d
part without delay. 1

Suddenly the sound of the boots changed to
that made bya horse trotting, uickl changing
again to those of an animal on gafiop. ' :v.

The next minute, a horse, bearing a, man an

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
    
 
    
   
 
   
    
   
   
   
  
   
   
    
 
     
  

 

 

10

Zigzag and Cutt,

, ‘.;4 1 .l ,,

,ri

he Invincible Detectives.

 

 

his backbgialloped to view, and, wheeling to the
right, he ed toward th eopen country, which
was the direction taken a few minutes before
by Uncle Peleg. __

CHAPTER XII.

ON THE ROAD.

Farm MELVILLn was astounded. Only a few
minutes before, he had been turned from the
door of Tudor Carew, President of the Asheville
Bank, by the message that that gentleman was
too ill to see any one, and here, right before his
eyes, he saw the same person aliop down the
road, as' though starting 1) n a ong ride in the
clear, bracing autumn nig t.

“ What need was there of his using such de-
ception?" was the natural question which the
young man asked himself; “ if he didn‘t wish to

V See me, he had on] to say so. But where can

.1 he he going at this our?"

,' \Vhi e pondering over the matter, Fred walk-
ed slowly in the direction taken by Uncle Peleg
a short time before. Thus he passed by the
house of Mr. Carew, and perhaps a hundred
yards beyond, when he became aware that a
$1301] was standing under the shadow of a

rec, overhanging oak at the side of the path,

I as if waiting for him.

The young man was armed, and, since he had
entered upon this dangerous business, he had

7; grown suspicious. He placed his hand at his

5: ’ hip to make sure that his revolver was there.

‘Zév , As he withdrew his hand, he was close enough

3/ \ to recognize the honest-looking farmer, from
whom he parted but a short while before.

“ Good-evening again,” said the elder hearti-
ly, “ I hardly expected the pleasure of meeting

» you so soon.” ,

This certainly was Uncle Peleg, but his man-
ner of speech was so altered that Fred stopped

 

» r in surprise and stared at him.
 I The other indulged in a quiet, chuckling
laugh. .
“ I know wh you are astonished,” he said,

“ but I will me c it plain; walk with me a few
/ steps in the direction taken by our sick friend,
Mr. Tudor Carew, President of the Asheville
Bank. 1 have something ‘to say, Frederic Mel-
ville. which I think will interest you.”
“ My gracious! you have not only intemsted,
but you have mystified me already.”
Again Uncle Peleg indulged in is quiet laugh

co'npani: in, gave 'it a mischievous pinch.

" You took me forasimple-minded old farmer,
I know,” he added in a ded voice looking
to the right and left as if afraid of being over-
heard, “but I ain’t." ‘

“ I am sure of that, but who are you?”

“ A detective from New York, engaged in
trying to find the whereabouts of your special
friend. Miss Gladys Linden.” .

Fred Melville stopped and stared at the speak-
Elie like one thunderstruck. Could it be possi-

l

“ You are the only man in Asheville to whom

I have made niyself know:, and, with omidex-
‘cetion,teonypersonwosn my en-

m‘}; I am [sure you understand 32¢ necessity of

keeping what I have told and shall tell you a

secret. -

' Havi recovered his self-command, the awed

Fred Me ville, said:

. “ I cannot tell you the pleasure it gives me to
‘ meet you; I don' wonder that no one suspects

your identity." . I t

' “ One of t e elemental laws of our profession

is never to make our identity known, so long as
ll it is possible to coan it. I had no intention
of doing so in this instance, and I am entirely
selfish in my reason for taking the step.”

“ How is that?" _

“We are both engaged in the same task and
our paths are snreto converge; I don’t wish them
to cross. as they have already done so more. than
once. The result promises to be more satisfac-
tory if we come to an understanding at the open-
“ ' ing of the campaign.” .

' “ I shall be only too glad to give you the ot-
most hrlp I can.” .

“ Which romises to be infinitesimal; never-
theless, as have said. we must 'oin forces.”

“ I am more than willing to 0 that; I have
been at work ever since I discovered that Miss
Linden was missing.”

“With what result?”

, N None.” , t I
' “ And mine is about the same, but while
. ‘ there’s life there’s hope. You r ‘ that
. entleman who rode by on a swmglng gallop a
ew minutes ago?" ‘ .
“ He was Mr. Carew.”
“ Do you know who his physician is?”
“ Yes—why?" V —
' ' “I should like to engage him; a doctor who
, . can bring his patient: around in such short
' ’r' order is too valuable to mankind to suffer his
light to be hidden under a bushel; I should hke
to engage him.” _ _
. And the detective chuckled at his own Joke,
‘ addiu more seriously:

" here do on an pose be has gone?”

“ I haven’t t e slig test idea: it looks as if he
had started out for a ride in this brisk autumn
:‘irv": J ‘ -

 

    
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
  

r

and. slipping his arm within that of his younger A

 

“Depend upon it, when Mr. Carew sets out‘on
horseback in such, haste, it is business and not
pleasure on which he is engaged. This is not
the first time he has left home for an indefinite
absence.”

“ In the same way?"

“ Not necessarily. Do you know whether he
is in the habit of saving town for several days
at a time?"

“ Yes; he does; he generally goes to Boston
on business connected with the bank or some oi
his 8 culations.”

“ ow often?"

The relations between Fred Melville and the
niece of the bank resident gave him opportuni-
ties for learning al that was needed to answer
this uestion.

“ e generally goes away once a month——
rarely o tener and is absent sometimes two or
three days and occasionally a week; indeed I
recall that he has been absent now and then for
more than a week.”

“ And where did you say he went?”

“ To Boston, always."

“ Humphl he hasn’t been
years.”

“ How do you know that!” asked the amazed
Fred Melville, looking in the honest face at his
side, which never appeared more guileless than
then with. the moonlight falling upon it.

“ Never mind; sufiicc that I know what Isay;
he has spent most of his t'me in New York, and
on several occasions, he has stayed where he is
going to spend this night.” .

Fred Melville could only look his amazement.
He was tempted for a moment to believe the
man at his side was jesting with him, but the
next moment he knew he spoke the truth.

“. The trail is growing warm,“ added Zigzag, as
if speaking to himself, but still keeping his arm
within that of his young friend, who bad form-
ed a strong admiration for him; “ shall I tell
you the next step we must take?"

“ Certainly.” , '

“ We must find where he has gone to—night.”

“ What a pity one of us hadn't a horse so as
to follow him.” ‘

“ It would not have answered; the task of
following a man on horseback over a lonely
country road without detection is almost im-
possible. We couldn‘t do it."

“ How then shall it be done?”

The detective shrugged his shoulders.

“ You are in need of sleep; go home and get a
good night's rest: to-mbrrow your wits Will be
fresl and bright; come to the hotel after dinner
time, 0 up to room 73 where you will find
Uncle eleg, (that is if nothing unforeseen oc-
curs) and let me know all that you know. Now,
we will turn about and go back home.”

Uncle Peleg had a way that was resistlws and
Fred Melville obeyed him like a child. They
conversed familiarly, but in guarded tones,
ceasing altogether when they encountered any
person, for naturally numbers were abroad at
that hour.

At the corner of the street, they separated
with the expectation of seeing each other on the
marrow as agreed upon.

Waiting until sure that his young friend was
beyond sight, the detective wheeled about ab-
ruptly and started back over the same route
that he had just traveled. .

He had no expectation of spending 9. minute
in sleep that nig‘ t. a

He had seen udar Carew, the bank president
ride on horseback into the open country, and he
meant to follow him.

True, he was at goat disadvantage. He was
on foot ' and be ad no means of knowing
whether the other had ridden a half-mile or a.
dozen miles. But anything was preferable to
his going to the hotel and spending the hours in
idleness. 7 ‘

He walked briskly, only slowing his gait to
one more in consonance with his character,
when he observed some one approaching from
the opposite direction. '

A brief walk brought him opposite the house
of Mr. Carew. He glanced up at the window,
and slackened his pace, on the watch as ever for
what he might see or hear.

' A bright light was still shining in the room
angegie curtain of one of the front windows was
re .

He looked upward, half expecting to see the.
owner of the home, but no one showed himself.
No person being in sight along the street. the
detective hastened his steps, and in a shorter
time than be anticipated, reached the outskirts
of the town. _

At the same brisk walk he soon penetratedtbe
country proper, and then assumed a gait which
few men could have surpassed or equaled.

There was nothing striking in the appearance
of the section through which he was making his
way. Broad fields stretched on either hand ,,
here and there were patches of woods, none 0 /
them of any extent, occasionally a little spread
of water on the right or left, 1; e streams into
which the narrowed being cremed by rude
bridges. w ile at intervals the twinkling lights
across the landscape showed where some tiller of
the soil made his home. ’

The sky was almost unclouded, so that the
moon, which, was nearly full, gave all the light

in Boston for

 

 

that could be needed, and indeed more than the
officer wished to have.

The objectionable feature of this state of
things was that while he could seeso plainly,
other persons could dis:ern him at a greater dis-
tance than might be pleasant.

Zigzag had walked fully a mile, and was
swinging along with the same speed, not forget-
ting to look to the rear as well as to the front.
In truth, he would have been a poor detective
had he failed to note ever avenue of approach.

Twice, when he looke about, he fancied he
saw a couple of dark figures some distance be-
hind hini. A pause and a keen scrutiny led him
to conclude, however, that it was some figment
of theimagination instead of a reality.

But he did not relax his watchfulness, and so
it came about that before he had gone a fourth
of a mile further, the startling fact was indirr
putable that two men were following him.

While the detective was seeking to shadow a
sin le party, two others were shadowing him.

e was not alarmed, 'but impatient, because
an annoying complication was thus threatened.

“A row is impending as sure as fate,” was
his conclusion. and, as usual, Zigzag was right.

CHAPTER XIII.
THE FRIEND IN NEED.

IT is anything but pleasant to awaken to the
fact that, while pursuing your way over a lone-
ly road at night, you are followed by two
strangers, whose actions indicate that they
mean business of a serious character as concerns

on.

y As we have stated, it cannot be said that
Zigzag the detective felt anything in the nature
of personal fear, for he had been in far more
perilous situations than this threatened to be,
and it goes without saying that he was always
heeled for such hostile meetings. His revious
experience was marked by some of t e most
desperate encopntcrs in which a person can he
engaged, and his body “as well scarred with
the mementoes of such strife.

But we have intimated the real cause of the
officer’s annoyance. Up to this moment, he had
believed that his character and business in
AsheVilie was unsuspected by any one besides
Cutt Whitney and young Fred Melville, to
whom he had made himself known only a short
time before. .

So long as this was the case, it will be per-
ceived that he possessed a vast advantage; but
he feared, that, yielding to a peculiar waggish—
ness which was a part of his nature, he had
gone too far with his assumed character ofa
verdant New England farmer and had drawn
suspicion to himself by the very means that was
meant to avert it. I

Now should it prove that enemies had sus-
pected his identity or rather his business, they
would take means to bafile his movements,
thereby rendering his success ten-fold more
problematical.

True, he could change his character and make—
up, but most of the difficulty would remain,
since the fact could not be concealed that a de
teotive was at work in Asheville, where nearly
every man know every other man.

But all this reasonin was based on the theory
that the two men a the rear were really
shadowing him. The possibility remained, that
they might be a couple of countrymen who did
not dream of anything of the kind.

Had the discovery taken place near a stretch
of woods. Z‘gzag mi ht have made use of the
shelter thus ofiered; ut he could see nothing of
the kind in front, and even had he done so, the
concealment of himself would rather postpone
than remove the trouble. ‘

With characteristic promptness, Zigmg de-
termined on his line of action.

Instead of increasing his gait, he slewed it so
as to give the strangers an opportunity to come
up with him without putting forth any special

 

e o .

He anticipated the result correctly. The pur-
euers were walking fast and rapidly came up
with him. ’

He countered along, as though unaware that
they were behind him: but all the same, he kept
a sharp watch of the rear. , ’ .

When the men were within a hundred feet,
Uncle Peleg, as he still assumed to be, deliber-
ately stop , and standing sidewa s after the
manner 0 a social countryman, ca ed out in a
cheery voice: ‘

“Good-evening! a right nice night!”

The individuals addressed made no response,
and without appearing to do so, Uncle Peleg
narrowly scanned them as they came up.

There was nothing special y noteworthy in
their appearance, except that they closelyre-
sembled each other. ‘ V

They were of ordinary bight, well dressed, and
each were a large mustache. One was swin g
a slender elastic cane, which he sometimes w ir 5
ed swiftly, using it as a toy, while walking. '

During the brief period that Uncle Peleg
studied them, he did isutmost tolearn whether
he had ever seen them before.

He had no remembrance of having done so.

which might be the case if if had encountered ,

them several times. . y ,
Each wore a Derby hat, but the mustaches

 

 

    

A...“ w“. or-w ark». ‘

,-.'l,.

i
i ,
J
,.

i

‘\

 

   
 
  

.sz

 

    
   
 

 

’ who, as may be supposed

Zigzag and Cutt the Invincible

1.-~"w.-
\

Detectives.

 

  ‘__‘,,m; . 

 

might have been false, or the men might have
shaved their faces clear of all heard since meet-
inglhim.

othing but a survey by daylight could settle
the question of identity. '

“ Good—evening," repeated Uncle Peleg as they
came up; " I spoke a minute ago, but reckon
you didn’t hear me.”

“ Good evening,” replied one of them gruflly,
“ what are you waiting for?”

“ Seein’ as how you was comin’, I thought I
would wait and have your company, but you
seem to feel so mighty peart about it, you can
go on alone for all I keer be hanged to you 1”

And he stood still for them to pass by.

But they were not to be caught in that fash-

, ion.

Seeing that the old gentleman was miffed
both broke into a. laugh, and the one who had
spoken so brusquely added in something like a
chech tone:

“ We didn’t hear you at first, pop, or rather
.we didn’t think it was such a green-looking
pumpkin as you.”

All this was well enough, but Uncle Peleg
didn’t like the action of the couple as all re-
sumed their walk. They separated so: as to
biiiig him between them.

Still he could not very well resent the move-
ment, for to do so would have shown a distrust
which he could not explain Without deepening
their suspicion of him. -

So he advanced, as though he felt no objec-
tion, but it need not be said that every sense
was on the alert.

“Where are you goin’?” asked one of the

' strangers.

“ Goin’ hum; where did you s‘pose?” '

“Where do you live?” -

“ At the cross-roads, about a mile out.”

“ \Vhat’s your name? "

“ Phosh Draper; what’s your names and
where be you goin’?" asked the old farmer in
turn.

“0h, we’re a couple of lightning-rod agents
on our way out to our aunt’s.”

“ Where does she live?”.

“ At Squednnk; do you know her?”

“ Pshaw now, you’re foolin’,” said Uncle Peleg
re roachfully, glancing from right to the left.

hat glance, instinctive as it may be called,
made evident the fact that the fellow on his left
was walking slower than the other. As a con-
sequence, he was falling behind.

‘1 here was nothing to be gained by trifling,
and Uncle Peleg concluded to take the bull by
the horns.

“ See here," said he, coming abruptly to a halt;
“if either of lyou chaps want to have my com-
pany why wal alongside of me like a man;

ut I won’t have any dog sneaking at my
heels-3’

With a movement like that of a panther, the
one who had dropped a step or two to the rear
made a. bound at Uncle Peleg.

Alert and watchful as was the latter, he was
unprefpared for this demonstration, and was,
there ore. caught off his guard.

His amallant came down with crushing force
upolp his shoulders and flung his arms about his
nee .

Only by a. prodigious effort did Uncle Peleg
save himself from being overcome; but callin
into play his great wrestling skill. he ducked his
head like a bucki broncho and flung his enemy
headlong over his a oulders. ‘ _

There would have been little diEculty in dis-
posing of this scamp, but for the second one
, was not idle. The
moment he saw his partner’s sprawlingUlegs

ointing toward the moon, he dealt ncie

el a blow across the forehead with the butt
of h pistol which sent him reeling backward to
the earth.

As he was goi , with his brain in a whirl,
Zigiza made a dc lunge at the man who
he struck him, deliverin a blow which, in

turn, sent the other spiun backward to the

un . o

Realizing his peril, the detective summoned
all his willvgower with a view of lies iug his feet
and senses, ut the effort was beyond is strength
and he went down lim as a rag.

“ Now we’ve at h m!” exclaimed the assail-
ant, who had an "flying leap over the head
3f tlhenofilcer. “ It’s Zigzag, as sure as you live,

ac v

“Let’s go through him before we finish him,
Mat " added the other, smarting from the blow
whic had hurled him fully a dozen feet. “ I
shouldn’t wonder if we might find some docu-
mentsI ’ about his clothes that Will be of use
to us.

The two were bending over the prostrate om-
cer, with whom it looked as if it must go ill,
when the sharp report of a pistol rung out in
the stillness. and the form of a stranger burst
upon the scene. ,

“ You cowards!” he exclaimed in a fury ; “ to
attack a man when he is helpless!"

That the miscreants deserved the epithet ap-

. plied to them was proven by the events of the

next minute.
Having discharged one chamber of his wea-
pom‘the new arrival aimed a blow at the as-

5 ' sailant nearest him, which, had it landed, would

 

have cracked his skull- but with inimitable
dexterity the intended victim dod ed, and, in a
crouching position, he turned an ran with his
utmost speed down the highway.

His partner was but a few paces behind
him both skurrying off like a couple of fright-
ened deer.

The man fired two shots after them, but the
distance was too great to be effective, and the
fugitives continued their flight until they vau-
ished in the moonlight. ; .

The stranger gave them no further attention,

but bent over the form on the ground.

The detective was already recovering from
the fierce blow he had received, and began slow-
ly and uncertniuly rising to his feet.

“ Helloa, Uncle Peleg, it looks as if you had
run against something very hard; I hope you
are not badly hurt." , . ,

The officer stared at his friend, and With a
wan smile and slow utterance, asked:

“ Is that youI Melville? I did get a. pretty
good crack, and no mistake. How is it that you
are here i"

“ I suspect the same errand brought me that
brought you.”

“ That being the case, let’s shake."

The two warmly grasped hands, as if they
were friends of years’ standing, instead of bare-
1y a single hour. ‘

The detective rapidly rallied from his collapse,
but a big swelling remained over one of his eyes,
as a reminder of the attention received from the
butt of the pistol.

“They went off in such a hurry that they for-

ot something,” remarked Fred Melville, stoop-
iug over and picking up the pistol that had done
the work, from where it lay gleaming in the
moonlight; “ allow me to present this to you,
Uncle Peleg, as a memento of the stirring events
of to-night.” - g

“I am pleased to accept the same,” replied
the officer, rubbing his forehead smartly, and
carefully replacing his broad-brimmed hat,
which had fallen off in the affray.

“ It looks as if you will be troubled for a short
time with the common complaint known as
swelled head,” said Fred, with a laugh.

“ No doubt of it, but I’m thankful it’s no
worse. Melville, I must say that your arrival
could not have been more timely, but all the
same, I’m half disposed to regret to find you
thus far from Asheville at this time of night.”

 

CHAPTER XIV.
rosrmo rim uooxs.
IT is neceSsary, in order to keep the thread of
our story, that we should 0 back a few hours
in our record of the inci ents crowding upon

as. V
it will be remembered that on the afternoon
of the evening preceding Uncle Pelegés rough
adventure just described, he and Cutt hitney,
his associate detective, eat in an upper room of
the princi hotel discussing the piece of cipher
writing w ich the former had translated.

Without repeating the list of figures, we may
recall their interpretation which was:

“ Next Thursday V ht. Meet at 0. B. Other
game fixed. Three in t is: two in that. T."

“ Since I have straightened out the figures
into words,” remarked Zigg. “of' course you
will have no difficulty in catching thefull mean‘
ing of the words themselves.”

‘ I am no so sure of that,” lauighed Whitne ,
taking the paper and scanning t, a though e
expected to d scover something more of its bid-
den meanifi.

Zi zag (1 nothing during the few minutes
his riend spentin scrutinizing the cipher.

Suddenly Whitney-l‘looked up.

“Yesterday was hursday, so it is clear that
this bit of writing or rather figuri was pen-
ciled before that day, and it refers the rob-
bery of the Asheville bank; do you agree with
me

“ 1 do” ‘

“‘0. H.’ is the appointed rendezvous of the
criminals, but whether they are to meet there
before or after the burglary is the question—”

“ Since they must meet in order to carry out
their scheme, nothing in the nature of that
paper was necessary to provide for the meetings
afterward.” '

“ True, I ought tohave thought of that. Then
it was arranged that the scam s were to meet
at ‘0. H.,’ from which point hey were to set
out to execute their double crime. ’

“ What about the rest of the note?”

“ The expression which follows is one of those
that are liable to ambiguity since authorities do
not agree as to its precise use. but we have a
key which makes the meaning clear. _‘ Three
in‘ this,'_ must refer to the burglars, since we
know that three womengaged in that robbery,
while the 'two’ means hat that number was
employed in the abduction of Miss'Linden.”

f‘ You have expressed my views,” remarked
Zl zag, admirin the cleverness of his friend.
“ hat is dyour dea of the expression ‘ other
game flxe 7'"

“ I am not clear as to that; it means either the
burglary or the abduction, but I see no means of
making certain which.” .

“ I suspect it bears upon the abductiop, but it

l

 

is a small matter either way, and is not worth
the trouble of speculatin upon. I would give
a 00d deal, however, to now whom that letter
‘ ’ resents.”

“ t sapity that two initials were not em-
ployed, instead of one. for there is no estimating
the number of names that begin with T.”

“ If other initials were added, it is more than
likely they would be fictitious; so I don’t see
that much is to be gained by theorizing over
that. It seems to me, however, that between
you and me there ought to be some way of hit-
ting upon the translation of ‘ O. H.’ "

‘ There’s one thing certain, we can‘t do it by
sitting here and figurin over the matter," said
Whitney, rising to his cat.

Zigzag had taken the per again, and was
scrutinizing the fl res With so much interest
that his friend, loo ing down upon him, asked:

“ Do you expect to find anythin else?”

“ Do you know,” asked Zigzag coking u in
the face of his friend, “that the worst t ing
about this Greek cipher, as we may call it, is
that it is composed entirely of figures f”

“ How is that?" ’

“ If it was made up of script, you would have
the handwriting of some person, and no matter
how skillfully it was disguised, there would be
something' to work upon. 11: is different with
figures, where there cannot be so much charac-
ter

“ But there are so many persdns who show al-
most as much individuality in their style of
ii ures as they do in their handwriting.”

nstead of replying] to this remark, Zigzag
deliberately inserted is half-smoked cigar be-
tween his lips, and looked in the face of Cutt
Whitney, who had seated himself on the side of
the bed.

There was a world of significance in the smile
and twinkle of the bright, clear eyes.

And Cutt Whitney “ caught on."

That smile and look said as plainly as words
could have done:

“You are right; there is an individuality in

these figures, as much indeed as there is in the '

handwriting of the person who made them;
such being the case, you have now a clew to
work upon.” '

Whitney carefully refolded the bit of paper
that haded back and forth betws-en them
several times, and put it in his ketrbook.
While doing so he looked thoughtf y out of the
window.

“Cutt,", said Zigzag, tipgin his chair back
in an easy position, crossing is a? and claspin
his hands behind his head while 6 spoke “i
his cigar between his teeth, “you are in luck;
you have got more than I to work upon."

“ Explain, Sir Oracle.” ‘

“Besides knowing the number of burglars
concerned (as I do the number taking part in
the abduction),.you have a lot of figures show-
ing such indiViduali that, wherever on may
come across a half- ozen made by same
hand. you can identify them at a lance.”

“ If a man can dis ice his ban writing. can
he not change his me bed of forming figural”

“ He can, but he‘don'f.”

’ “ I’m inclined to think lyeti [fire it-ihght and now, _ ‘
00 or e companicn ‘

if I only knew where to
res to these I”

“ Cutt,” said Zigzag, with mock serloueneel,
Ron are becoming selfish and avaricioua.

a next thing you will want the Central Park
and the ram funds in the vaults of the
'Asheville Bank. I know well enough where I
wfoggd ‘flbegin ’an examination of the formation
0 e

“ And I know the place you mean: I shall go
there at once; good-by. 1’ knock at your door
when I et the chance.”

And ‘utt Whitney passed out the room down-
stairs and straight to the Asheville Bank.

The prodigious loss which the institution had ‘

suffered made it necessary to close the doors
for a day or two until arran meats couldbe
made for continuing the bus case. A large
number of ple were gathered in the street
outnde, talk ng in low tones, looking up at the
front of the brick building in an awed expect
ant way, as though they ted to see some
solution of thei entity of t e burglars emerge
from the solid walls. ’ ’

No one besides a privileged few were allowed
to, come inside, for otherwise the place would
have been Overrun by those having naught but
li¥Ele curiosity to draw them thither.
was admitted with l'ttle delay.

“Good day, My Hyneman,” he said addrese- '

i: "the cashier; “ have you found out the to
'l .
“Not precise] but enough to know that it is
risin two hu‘n ied thousand.” '
“ s it as bad as that?"

“ Yes; they made a retty clean swegg,'but1 -

ess the d‘frectors wi be able to pull rou h.
here is tfot‘l‘ileia meetingtoto-ggrmgv gor‘ he
urpose o n steps w a up ng up
{shin . v It wouldghave been called to-day but
for t e illness of Mr. Comm”

“I believe you, and a friend tried the doors ‘.
lastnight at the very time the burglars were ‘

inside.”

“ So it seems; Mr. Foster and I like most of‘; W

11.

e detectives knock was recognized and he '

’_"\‘,
I

 

,
ri‘
at".
. V
;.
.

‘e

 

‘ my heart bleeds for him.

. little pecu
‘ able the officers to name the very parties guilty

712‘

the town were at Ravenswold. He complained
.of a headache, and we took a stroll together. I
led the way to the bank. As we were passing,
.a whim seized me to learn whether Martin the
watchman was on the alert. The register show-
ed more than once that he had been indulging
in a nap, when he ought to have been making
'the\ronnds, so I tried the door and called him
.by name.”

“ Did you notice nothin suspicious?”

“Nothing. Had I the east thought of any-
thing being wrong, I might have paid more at-
tention to the confederate on the outside, who
kept his face turned away as we met and passed
each other."

“ Have you any idea of the hour when you
passed the bankl’

Mr. Hyneman was silent a minute while he
tried to refresh his memory.

“ I cannot be certain, but I think it was near
two o’clock." '

“ Could your companion fix upon the time
with more positiveness than on?”

“I am quite sure he conl not, for about all
he thought or talked about was his racking
headache. He could only do as I have done—
guess at it.”

“ Why do ’you name the hour of two as the ‘

proper time?

“ I only give my impression; I do not say
positively that that was the exact time; for
aught I know I may be away 011'. Is there any
other way I can be of service to you, since I am
of so little hel in this direction?’

“I would . ike the privilege of looking into ‘

your bookkeeperls ledger.”

Any of the bank books would have suited as
well as this, but the detective gave a particular
name, hoping that the cashier would not divine
his real purpose.

“Of course,” replied the official, hastening to

comply with the. request; “ it was a mistake to .

let him off to—day, for we are in great need of
his services.”

“ I doubt whether he would have been of any
use to you: since he is so broken up over the dis-
appearance of Miss Linden.”

“ Dreadful affair, wasn’t it? Can’t under-
stand what it all means; what is the world com-
ing to? What do you make of it, Mr. VVhit-
ney?’ '

“ It’s beyond my hen, though I. shouldn’t
wonder if they intend to hold her' for a. ran-
som.

‘f Impossible! this is the last quarter of the
nineteenth century, and we are living in a civ-
ilized land.”

» “ And therefore whatI say is the more prob-
able. However, it is useless to speculate upon
it. You know that everything is being done
that is ible.” ,

“ I m glad to know that. Poor Mr. Csrewl
He will be a heavy
loser, because of this burglary but that is noth-
ing compared with the loss 0 his niece to whom
he is as much attached as if she were his own
dau hter.” '

T e volnble cashier ceased, for he saw that
Whitney was poring carefully through the
led er, as if deeply interested in what he saw,
wh ch was the case.

It has been said that there was an individual-
i in the formation of the figures'composin the
0 her which the detective Zigzag transla for
b 5 friend. This was so marked, that if the man-
nerism was not a disguise of itsalf, it would be
observed at a glance when seen elsewhere.

One hasty examination of the first page was
enough; there was the same style of figures pre—
cisely that composed the cipher writing.

The resemblance was absolute; there could be

'no ossible mistake. ,

e heart of the detective was heav with the
most genuine‘ regret he had felt a long

time. ,

“ Alas! despite everything that can. be said in
favor of Fred Melville he was one of the bank
burglars.”

 

CHAPTER XV.
«to H 11

HAD the Asheville Bfink been entered in the
regular way, that is to say had it been actually
broken into,the task of Detective Whitney would
have been considerably simplified.

The most noted bank-breakers of the country
have an individual style of their own, which can
beidentified b many of the leading detectives
when they " e a thorough investigation. The
particular kind of tools employed, the manner
of openinii.r the vaults and safe, and the other

iarities of handiwork frequently en-

of the unlawful act.

But in the case we have under consideration,
nothing of the kind took place. The burglars
p the usual and decisive advantage of
‘the combination which gave them access to the
treasure. There was not a lock broken, a blow
struck, a chissl employed. an ounce of gun-
powder touched ofl‘, a wedge or bar used, nor
indeed any means other than that resorted to by
the cashier of the institution when he assumed
charge at the opening of bank hours. .

Nor did the minutest examination of the vault
and the interior of the bunk bring to light any-

 

- y ..  .‘ . g r.- .  -. RU?“

,

Zigzag and Gutt, the Invincible Detectives.

thing that could help the careful searcher after
the truth. ‘

The club with which Budge Martin, the
watchman, was knocked bleeding to the floor,
was the only thing picked up. That was an or-
dinary stick of hard wood, without the slightest
mark by which 10 identify it.

Studiously hiding his emotion from the cash-
ier, Detective Whitney talked to him about un-
important matters for several minutes, took
another look at the vault, and then bidding him
goodday, passed out of the bank and made his
Wigv to the hotel.

e~was looking for Zigzag, or Uncle Peleg,
as he had come to be known in Asheville; but.
as is generally the case, at the time he wanted
most to see him, he was aniSlble. He searched
everywhere, and even ventured upon several in-
quiries, but of no avail.

He desired, above everything, to consult with
him over the dist-OVery he had made about the
authorship of the cipher which Zigzag had
translated for him.

Finally, he was compelled to give it up.

“ I’ll probably meet him at the supper-table,”
was his conclusmn.

But, a did he was disappointed; Uncle Peleg
perverse y remained out o sight, until the im-
patient officer half-suspected he was doing so on
pur ose.

e have made the statement that the most
brilliant successes of our famous detectives are
often duo to accident, though they are the last
per-ions in the world to admit that such is the
tac .

Uutt Whitney slowly ate his evening meal, in
anything but a pleasant frame of mind. which
was increased by the chatter of a couple of
dudish~looking young gentlemen, who were re-
counting their exploits on their bicycles or
“ bikes,” as those vehicles have now come to be
known. v

“It was the sharpest race, Dolph, don‘t you
know. that we’ve had since we got our new
machines.” ‘

“ Yes,” replied his young friend across the
table. “ I’ll own I had to work pretty hard,
don’t you know, to beat you."

“And it was a mighty small beat you made
too, don't you know? If it hadn’t been for that
header I took just this side of Oak Hall, I’d been
with you all the way back. don’t you know? ’

“I ain‘t so sure of that: we’ll try it again
some day.”

“ The roads are in a good condition, don’t you
know, and, if it doesn’t rain to-night. I’ll take. a
spin with you in the morning. Don’t you know
that the morning is the best time for a spin,
Gus?” '

“I’m agreed; is it a o?”

“ It is,” and the ob cage was accepted.

Thus the talk went on. after the tired detec-
tive left the table, withdrew tothe bar-room,
and lit a cigar.

Cutt Whitney had taken twopufl’s of the weed
when he almost sprung to his feet.

“ By the great Caesar,” he muttered, “ one of
those nincompoops spoke of ‘ OakHall.’ What-
ever or wherever that place may be, its initials
are 13h: ,same as those on this slip of paper in my
poc e .

To make sure he drew out the cipher, and the
table by which Zigzag had explained its mean-

ln .

‘ Yes beyond all question one of the sentences
was, “ Meet at 0. H."

There remained the possibility that the refer-
ence might be to some other locality altogether,
but Whitney was so sure he was on the ri 'ht
track at last that he could hardly re ress a is-
position to indulge in whistling a live y jig. -

But men in his profession learn to hold them-
selves well in hand, and no one of the loungers
in the bar-room would have suspected that any-
thing had happenod to cause an additional pulse-
heat on the part of the stranger who was leis-
urelv smoking a cigar.

“ Can you tell me how far it is to Oak Halli”
he asked in an off-hand manner of a country-
man seated on his left.

“ The latter looked inquiringly at him and

said: .
' “ Oak Hall? I never heard tell of no sich
place.” ,

But he spoke loud that several others, sitting
near caught the words. , ' ,

“ Never heard of Oak Hall?” repeated one of
them; “why, ’Siah, your mem’ry must be tot-
terin’. You and me have driv by the place
more times than you’ve got fingers and toes.”

“ So we hev,” said Josiah in a shame-faced
way; “ I must have been thinkin’ of something
else to let it slip my mind; why‘, partner,” he
added. facing toward the inquirer, “ as near as
I can figure. Oak Hall is about ten mile. out on
the Beaver tawn road.” ‘Am I right, Ben?

“ That’s about the sire of it, though it’s a scant
ten mile.” -

Detective Whitney felt the need of more in—
formation, but he was cautious by nature and
averse to pushing his in niries in the presence
of such a miScellaneous co ection of persons.

The countryman who had been addressed as
“ Ben.” was the e upon whom be fixed as his
well of knowledge from which he was confident
he could draw all the information he wanted.

1

 

.u'

It was an easy matter to inveigle him to one
side, and after presenting him with a good
cigar and treating him to a temperance drink
the hardy son of toil was ready to tell all that
he knew. ,

Whitney spent some minutes in talking about
the crops, throwing in a little olitics. after
learning the views of Ben on the ending nes-
tions of the day, and then he proceeded to usi-
ness. .

“ you say that Oak Hall is about ten miles
out? v

.“ We call it that, but atween you and me, it
ain‘t much more than nine mile. If you want;
to go there it’s too fnr to walk, unless you’ve got
plenty of time to spare.”

“ I don’t know as I shall visit it, but I have
heard of the place and have felt some curiosity
to learn more about it. It is a fine residence,
isn’t it?" '

“ Yes: it‘s a splendid place. It stands back a
good ways from the road and has so many oak
trees around it that in the summer time you
can’t get a glimpse of it. Now, howsumever,
when the‘ leaves are fallin’ on kin obsarve it
purt plain from the road. here’s a fine lane,
too, eadin’ to it and that has so many trees that
though it‘s as straight as a hoe handle, you can’t
see along the full length of it in spring and
summer time.”

“ Who lives there?”

“Now you‘ve got me.
built it?"

“ I do not recollect that I ever heard.”

“Old Captain Barlow, that made most of his
money in wrackin’ and I suspect much more of
it in smugglin’ if not something worse, built it
just afore the War of 1812. The captain was an
old man then, but" I’ve often heerd my father
and mother speak about him. Right arter it
was finished he brought a young wife to the
place, but she didn’t live long and there was
strange stories ’bout the captain gettin’ so jeal-
ous of a handsome sailor that called there that
he killed both. Howsumever, I can’t say any-
thing sart’in ’bout them stories. The captain
died soon arter and the house was shet up for a
long time.”

“ It is not unoccupied now.”

“ Gracious aiivei no; some twenty odd years
ago, the captain’s nephew moved in and he had
a handsome wifo too. But the folks didn’t see
much of them, for they kept to themselves. He
must have spent a heap of money. for they say
be furnished and fixed up the inside as handsome
asone of your city hotels. The couple stayed
there ,till a few years back when they moved
awa .

“And that brin 5 me down to the present oc-
cupants,” observe the detective, who began to
suspect he had overdone the matter in treating
Ben so liberally, since he seemed to feel that he
must repay it by his quantity of talk.

“I don’t believe there’s any one in Asheville
who can tell you \who the are. Folks are seen
goin’ in there and comin out again, but it is
nearly always at night and they are so unsocia-
ble that we let ’em alone.” -

This certainly was interesting information
'and strengthened the conviction of the detective
that he was on the track of the most valuable
kind of knowledge. '

The mystery surrounding Oak Hall was of the
character that he had known to surround the
resorts of criminals who took that means of
guarding themselves from the intrusion of pry-
ing eyes. He did not doubt that this semblance
of mystery had been maintained during the later
histo of Oak Hall for the purpose named.

“ T ere’s one queer thing about this business,”
added Ben, evidently anxious to give full meas-
ure for the kind treatment he had received;
“and that is that there ain’t nobody that has
seen for ten years past such a thin as a woman
go into and come out of Oak Hall.’

“That certainly is remarkable, for it is hardly
to he su posed that if any such thing took place,
it woul‘ escape the eyes of the neighbors who
take so much interest in the place.I

Detective Whitne made a number of other
inquiries, but he ha already secured the main
paints of the information he was seeking. ’

“i may be mistaken,” he concluded, “but I
don’t think I am for wrong in deciding that
Oak Hall was the rendezvous of the gang of men
who robbed the Asheville Bank and who ab»
ducted Gladys Linden. Anyway I shall know
before another sun rises and sets.” i .

Is’ se ouknow who
P0 y

 

v

CHAPTER xvi.
VOICES OF THE NIGHT.

THERE were times during the first twenty-
four hours which Glad s Linden spent in her
imprisonment at Oak all, when she believed
her senses were leaving her.

There was something so uncanny in her meet-
ing and conversation with Warren Carew. twin

to this distrust of herself.
. A ter his withdrawal from her room, she sat
a long time in painful, distressing thought.

“I suppose t at among the millions of people

 

to herself, ‘ there must ,he more than one in;
stance of two persons being the perfect conn-

brother of her Uncle Tudor, that she was driven  'V

that make up the world’s population.” she said»

 

 

i‘.
.‘4

 

 

.._::;.,*.. 

 

 

., lightful tintings of the vision were vivid and

, somewhat

zigzag and can. a. Invifiéifilé "Bétéatiéé. '

 

‘ 13”

 

 

terparts of each other. I have seen wonderful
resemblances myself, but nothing like this."

She was silent for a minute, while she recalled
the first view she had of the man, when. stand-
ing beneath her window, he looked up so fixedly
at her.

“ Hight, face, manner, voice, everything of
which I could take note were the same. Noth-
ing could have changed my belief until he came
to my room and to d me the truth. I am not
sure,” she added doubtfully, “ but what Uncle
Warren was a shade paler than Uncle Tudor,
when I last saw him yesterday afternoon."

She strove to recall some slight difference in
his trick of utterance or manner, but there was
none.

“He said some awful shadow had crossed the
threshold of their home years ago and that be
now lived alone in this building—that is I do
not suppose he means entire] alone, but apart
from his brother whom he llas not seen in a
long time. It is strange that they do not meet.
It seems to me that misfortune ought to bring
the members of a family into the closest com-
munion possible,”

Gradually the mind of the maiden drifted
back to the terrible words which her uncle had
uttered toward the close of the interview.

“ He said he would call to—morrow and tell me
all that I ought to know, and he s oke of my
power to save Uncle Tudor from s ameful u-
miliation, disgrace and death. And he said,
too that I would have to give u Fred.”

The maiden pressed her ban to her side as
though she felt the thrust of a poniard's point
in her heart.

“ Give him upl” she gasped; “ and he referred
to that as though it was a lighter punishment
than death; he on ht to know more of the heart
that truly loves. eath would be nothing com-
pared to the anguish of yielding up my own, my
true, my devoted, noble Fred.”

Surely no man could have been held in higheri
reverence and affection than was the young
bookkeeper of the Asheville Bank by this loyal
and enchanting woman. Blessed man to be the
object of such a wealth of passion and devo~
tlon.

" What can be the calamity which threatens
Uncle Tudor, and how can [ help it by sacrific-
ing Fre'l? Alas! it is a fitting part of the m s-
tory which marks to coming here. I wonder
wnether it can be-— ut nu—no—no—no—how
dare I think such a thought?”

She shuddered at the consciousness that actu-
ally for a single second she had harbored the
question whether her Uncle Tudor had known or
consented to her abduction.

But the next instant her heart rebuked her as
theifih she had committed an unpardonable sin.

“ ow could I ask myself such a uestionf
But [asked it before I realized its wic edness.
Can. it be that Uncle Tudor has lost his wealth
in s eculatl‘on or by some other means? If so,
he s 11 have every dollar I own in the world.
Fred has often said and I know he speaks the
truth, that he would love to take me as a penni-
less bride, that he mi ht have the happinesis of
working and toiling or me. How I would ove

be queen in our cottage home!” .

For the moment she forget her dreadful sur-
roundings and the misera le fate which Seemed
to hang over her, in the recollection called up by
the words last uttered. ' .

It brought back the sweet picture which the
lovers ha often dwelt upon in the blissful com-
munions when the future was all radiance and

li ht.

gl‘he little cottage in which love rei ed su-
preme, the happy, singing wife, the usband
hastening homeward at the close of his daily
work, the rapturous greeting, the evenings when
they would beall the world to each other, the
time when the dear little ones would gather
about their knees—all these and the other de-

soul-entrancing enough to cause her. to forget

that she had been abducted and was a prisoner

in a gloomy building, of which she knew noth-

mg, and in the war of men whose intention

she hardly (la speculate upon.

ti But not for long could this forgetfulness con-
one.

As she raised her head from the hand on which
it had been resting, the latter touched'one of the
iron bars across the window where she was sit-
ting. The touch was like ice, and caused her to
start with a shiver, as though a gliding ,serpent
hid rubbed against her hand.

“ To-nmrrow he is to come back and tell me

everything,” she repeated, springing to her feet good]

and walking back and forth; “ and what can he

tell me that can justif this outrage? Who can ,

expiate this crime? ces he expect that my
friends will pardon such an oflensef No wonder
he has not been near Uncle Tudor for years, for
he would strike him to the earth if he
thought even of laying bands on me!”
This lovmg loyal exclamation lost its edge
when the exasperating suggestion
would interpose herself that if Warren (iarew
told the truth respecting the dire extremity in
which his brother was placed a cold, reasoning
man of the world woul say that it looked as if
the banker was not entirely ignorant of the ab-
duction of his niece.

knew he

 

“Well,” added the latter, after a few more

' minutes of intense thought, “ I shall fortify my-

solf with the help of Heaven to meet whatever
is coming, but it will take a wonderfully stron

argument to convince me that the happiness 0
Uncle Tudor requires me to give up Fred—my
own, my darling Fred l”

Twice in pacing back and forth over the rich,
yielding carpet, she fancied she caught the
murmur of voices, or rather the sound of a
voice, which uttered a few words in a tone
louder than usual.

She paused, but was unable to identify the
point whence it came.

“There must be some one outside,” she con-
cluded. “Can it be that he is trying to attract
my attention?"

She moved quickly to the window and looked
out. .

There towered the oaks, grim and ghostly in
the bright moonlight, while the gentle night-
wind swept through their branches with a sigh
like that of some one in distress. Since the rain

'of the night before, many of the leaves had

fallen, so that considerable of the fields beyond
was visible.

But the keen vision, roving over all the space
iaxposed to view, discovered no form of animal

ife. 

She turned her head sideways, and, closing
her eyes, so as to concentrate her senses, lis-
tened. '

“ If I did hear voices,” she concluded, “they
were those who, to whom they belonged, are not
near my window nnw——"

The warning of a rattlesnake at her feet
would not have startled Gladys Linden more
than she was startled at that moment by the
sound of a man’s laughter!

it filled the room, as if the man who emitted
the outburst was at her elbow. It was a clear,
unmistakable ringing laugh, such as would be
given by a man when thrown into an ecstasy of
mirth by some grote ue humorous stor , and it
fairly echoed back an forth between t e walls
of the room in which stood the transfixed Gladys
Linden.

More than that the laughter was precisely the
bsaiiie as that which she had heard many a. time

e ore.

She was sure it came from her Uncle Tudor!

No wonder she was paralyzed, for it would
have startled a man with the strongest nerves,

.to have his meditations thus broken in upon by

the roystering mirth that seemed to come from
another worl .

Recovering in some measure her self-poise, but
with her heart throbbing painfully fast, Gladys
moved across the room. As she did so the voices
again fell upon her ears—this time with such dis-
tinctness that she located the point whence they
came. .

It was through the passageway of the dumb-
waiter at the Side of the room.

Stepping thither she listened.

Now she heard distinctly.

Several persons were seated in an apartment
below, apparently drinking and enjoyini them—
selve. e faint odor of tobacco smo e was
aergeptible to the delicate sense of smell of

a ys.

Evidently a party were holding pleasant con-
versation, and when some causeled to 9. raising of
the voices the sound reached her ears.

To her surprise she found she was able to ever-
hear what was said.

And the first voice identified was that which
had given her such a shock and which she was
certain belonged to her Uncle Tudor, or to his
twin brother.

“ The resemblance is as striking as everything
that I saw and heard when he was inthis room,”
thought Glad s, who leaned far over so as not
to allow a syl able to escape her.

Somehow or other, the voices brought courage
to the young lady. It will be understood that
the cause of this Was the palpable evidence that
her senses remained with her, and that real flesh
and bl human beings were at hand.

Even I: ough they were unfriendly, their pre-
sence within earshot drove awa t e shadowy,
chilling world in which she had 11 roving and
having her existence for hours. - ,

“ It was the best haul we have made in a long
time and I can afford to set up the champagne,”
said a voice, which she was sure belon ed to
Aaron Buckholtz, her escort of the night fore
in the carriage.

The cliuk of glasses sounded through the pass-
ageway, and it was a safe conclusion that a
y quantity of wine was being spoiled in the
popular fashion. .

“ Yes; if we keep on at this rate, we ought to
be able to retire before many years.” .

This: philosophical remark was made by the
one whose laug had produced such an effect on
Gladys Linden. ,
. At this juncture there was a shuffling 9f feet,
and to the keen disappointment of the listener,
the speakers shifted their positions, so that she
could not catch the words spoken.

It did not take place. however, until she de-
tected the strange. grufl tones of a third party,
so that she was convinced there were three per-
sons in the group below. .

She grieved to recall that she had not discov-

 

ered the presence some time before, when she
first caught the murmur. .
‘ She continued listening a long time, but noth—
ing‘ more reached her ears.
hen, prompted by one of these strange im—

pulses which sometimes governed her, she walked
to the door and tried the knob. .

To her amazement, when she turned it and
drew back, the door swung inward and stood
open before her!

“ My. time has come for escape !” was the
thrilling thought which instantly stirred her
son .

 

)HAPTER XVII.

CUTT WHITNEY TAKES A RIDE.

Curr WHITNEY the detective gained all the
information about Oak Hall which he thought
worth obtaining, or which it was possible to ob-
tain from his loquacious rural friend.

He shrewdly saw through the air of mystery
which the occupants of the place had managed
to throw around it, the effort to secure safety
against the prying curiosity of their neighbors.
The first desideratum of a party engaged in il—
legal business is to don this armor against mo-
lestation.

No surer means can be adopted among a sim-
ple-minded population than to infold the ren-
dezvous in an air of mystery, and that, the of-
ficer was quite confident, was what had been
done in the case of Oak Hall.

“ 1f some of these good people should make a
social call there, the would be likely to dis-
cover something whlch their hosts wanted to
keep a secret, and then there’s no telling what
the result would be. Whether Miss Linden has
been taken there or whether the bank burglars
simply met in t e building to complete their
plans cannot be settled just yet: but nothing is
clearer to me than that Oak Hall is the place
which. is entitled to immediate attention from
me.

There could be no question of the wisdom of
this decision, but an important pomt remained
which may not occur to the reader.

Convinced beyond a doubt that he was deal«
ing with a shrewd gang that, especially at this
time, were on the watch for the ofilcers of the ‘
law, Cutt Whitney felt the importance of mak-
inglno mistake.

e could prooure a horse and ride out to Oak
Hall, or 'he could go on foot, but, whichever
method he chose was sure to expose him to the
scrutiny of some sentinel of the law-breakers.

The matter to he settled, therefore, was how
he was to reach Oak Hall without undergomg
toofclose an inspection.

To ride out on horseback or to go on foot
would be sure to draw attention to him, no mats
to:- what guise he assumed. .

That this was the fact has been proves: by
What we have told respectin Zigzag s stroll in
that direction on this same 11 ht.

Bad Whitney been acquainted with the
country, so that he knew the “ lay of the land,” v
there would have been little difficulty in‘ this
respect, for he could have. taken a circuitous
course that would have brought him to Oak
Hall without discoveryp '

The detective stood on the corner of the strut,
lust beyond the hotel, debating whether it was

est to venture out on the Beavertown road on
foot or on horseback, or whether it was. not
more prudent to await the marrow. "

.His judgment whi red that the latter coma.
was the most advisab e, but he was unwillin to
pause in his work. His heart was so calls in

\

the task that he could not remain idle during _'

the coming night.

Besides, the absence of Zigzag led Whitney to
sun 1: that he was on some trail b himself, V
an unless he stirred around pretty ively tho
gmt detective was likely to “ get there " ahead
0 m.

The trails followed by the two were converg-
ing and must soon meet.

While he was considering the
wagon rattled out from the yard 0 thehotel,
an

uestlon, o. 

two lazy horses, driven by a farmer in g. ‘~

broad-brimmed hat. in ed toward him.
As they drew near,
given him the ‘
va unble information about 0a Hall The
sight of the countryman determined theooursn
of the officer on the instant.
Walking out in the. road. so as to intercept

hitney recognized his _'
‘1 uacious friend Ben,.vlho had

the farmer, he raised his hand as a request for“ 1

him to sto . l ‘ .

The lot) of surprise on the face of Ben,
ghianged tonne of peasuro as be identified 
r en . ' ‘

d .
“ heal I’m right down glad to see you; do
you want to take a ride with me?” ;

“ I don't mind if I do,” said Whitney, climb--
in: into the open wagon and taking his seat bO--
side the farmer who seemed as pleased as a child
to have his company. r

“ I feel like walkin tonight.” explained
Whittle . making himse f as comfortable as ll.
could. ‘ and I was on the point of taking a spurt

of five miles out in the country and back  ’

just enough to makemea little tired,
sleep tonight.” ., ,A A .
“That would make ten miles altogeth

.i~

‘ I

i4,

'  and. Outt, the

 v i -'~:

Invincible Detectives.

1“ . .,

 

wouldn’t it?” asked Ben, as if [the problem was i Whitne saw a mass of trees, connected with
almost too difficult to solve without the help of a 1 the big way by two rows, amid which passed

slate.
“Yes,” replied Whitney, shading the snap-

‘ ping match just drawn against the side of the

 

 

   

; topromise me is that if any people from
He

' . relati
. Cutt

‘ whom he was proud, and two bright

 

carriage. with his hollowed hands, untilhe could
light the cig r between his lips.

“ Why not ride out ten miles and walk: back

ain?

“ It would amount to the same thing; are you
going to drive that far?”

" Yes; I live in the next house beyond Oak
Hall and I’ll take you right by there.”

“ l’vo no special curiosity, but since you are
going that way, I will be glad to act on your
advice. You see if I started to walk five miles
out, I might change my mind and turn about
before 1 made that point, but if I ride ten miles
K'hy ’l’ve got to walk ten to get back tomy

otel. ’

“ Why not stay at our house all night and
ride back With me in the morning?”

“ I'm obliged to you, but don’t you see if I
should accept your invitation I would cheat my—
sell out of the walk which I need? No; your
first suggestion is a wise one and I’ll follow it;
I’ll ride out to your house and then walk back.
It won’t be much beyond midnight when I
:IeaCh”home and I‘ll have several hours good

eep.

‘ One fact gave Cutt Whitney a slight misgiv-

ln .

Earl Jones, as he announced his full name to
be, lived close to Oak Hall, being less than a
quarter of a mile beyond, as he explained'fur—
ther in the course of the conversation.

That he ng the case, was he not likely to be
under the surveillance, in a greater or less de-
gree, of the law-breakers who made Oak Hall
their headquarters? '

That is to say, that while he never visited the
mysterious place, were not some of the members
of the gang likel to manage it so as to meet him
occasionally, ant pick up what information he
might be induced unconsciously to give?

“Ben,” said the officer, in that sympathetic
manner which he knew so well how to assume,
“you have treated me so kindly thatImake
hold to ask another favor of you.”

“ What is it? I’ll be gel-darned if I ain’t
ready to do anything I kin for you. That’s the
best cigar I ever smoked, and this one which
you’ve jes’ handed me I make no doubt is as

good if not gooder.”
“ ii; is fromvthe same box. What I want 0:
a

i should _ask you anything about me, you
will not tell them the least thing.”

Ben Jones stared over his shoulder as though
he failed to grasp the hight and depth and
breadth of this request.

“ There has been a little family quarrel which
I'm tryin to patch up,” was the unblushiiig
fiction of hitney; “ I don’t want my presence
in Asheville to be known to any one connected
with this place."

“ Why how could theg l’arn anything about
itl” asked the astonished ones. r

“ I meant when some of the folks there should
meet you and ask questions.”

“But they don't meet me an ax questions,”
laid Ben, whi ping his horses again into a trot.

“Very we] ; if they don’t tryto pump you,
it is all right; and of course if they should try to
do it it will be all right.”

“ llou can ust bet your life on that,” was the

e of en, who in his enthusiastic devo-
tion to his new friend, chirped and clocked and
twitched the reins so vigorously that the horses
gradually struck the best gait they had shown

since leaving Asheville. I
It need not be said that Cutt Whitney kept
his eyes and ears 0 n. He recognized the
residence of Tudor Larew, the president of the
bank. as they went by it, soon after reaching
the open country which had been entered by
Zigzag and followed by Fred Melville some

, time before.

Beyond the town limits, of course everything
was strange to him, but in the bright moon-

Haviug gfiithered all, the knowledge ible

to as Hull that Ben Jones co d give,
hitney avoided any further reference to
the matter. He feared that the curiosity of his
friend might beoometoo pressing for him to

rry.
P680 he turned the conversation in the direction

> light nothing escaped his observation.

 of Mr. Jones’s own affairs, and, before the jour-
' ney was finished, he wa well up in the genea-

logy of the Jones family from the time of the
Revolution down. .

He knew that he had an industrious wife, gt

s w 0

were big enough to give him valuable elpiu

 ‘olearing OR the mortgage on the little place

where he was born and had spent all his life.
' The information which Mr. Whitney volun-
teered about himself during the same moonlight

_’ ride was each h: to take away the breath for
any man who

the least reverence for the

t .
._ “There’s the place,” said Ben, before his oom-
Erin!) su pose. that they 'were anywhere near
end 0 theinjoiimuy. ‘
s 'Whlp in hand, he pointed to the fight,~whe’re

 

thedlane to which reference has already been
ma e.

Little in the way of outlines of the house could
be seen, but the partly hidden twinkle of a light
among the group of trees, showed that there
was life in the gloomy and mysterious old build-

in .

'Ihe detective was pleased from more than one
cause. Although they had met several parties
on the way out, there was not one who showed
the least suspicion respecting him, and he was
satisfied that all the strangers to him belonged
to that section, for they nodded familiarly to
Ben in return to his own salutation.

“ Do you want to get out?” asked Ben, stop-
ping his team opposite the opening of the lane.

” Graciousl no, not here; I’ll ride a little fur-
ther, and then strike out at a lively pace for
home.”

He therefore kept his seat in the wagon, much
to the delight of Ben, who urged him to stay all,
night at his house; but bidding him good-by,
with the hope that they would soon meet again,
Whitney dropped lightly from the wagon, and
turned his face toward Asheville.

But it was not his intention to push on to that
town. He had reached the vicinity of Oak Hall
without attracting any unpleasant attention,
and, pleased over his own success, he was not
the man to let it pass unimproved.

There was the best of opportunities to keep
out of sight, now that he had reached the vicin-
ity, while making his observations, and he
griirly pressed his lips and resolved that “ some-
thing should be done,” and that right speedily.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
. AN unnxrncran MEETING.

Now that detective Whitney was alone. he
advanced along the road in the direction of Oak
Hall with the utmost circumspection.

Looking to the right and left, in front and
rear, he saw no person and was confident he
himself was unobserved.

Holding liis watch in front of his face, he illu-
minated the figures by drawing vigorously upon
his cigar. '

It was not quite half-past ten o’clock, so Ben
Jones had made pretty fair time after all with
his team. '

Stopping at the side of the road, when he had
not yet reached the lane leading to Oak Hall, he
looked back at the house of the young farmer,
which, standing close to the highway and being
unshaded by trees, was dimly :seen 'in the dis-
tance.

“There lives an honest fellow.” thou ht the
officer; “and if he was a little more inte lig’ent,
it might be wise to enlist him in my service. If
I could only meet Zig here, so as to join forces,
I would feel more confidence than I now do.”

'He was still gazin at the house behind him,
when he was start ed by a star-like point of ,
light which suddenly appeared at one of the
upper windows. 1

t shone so clear and bright that it was
Evident it was outside instead of within the win-
ow. -

“ That’s queer,” was the natural thought
of the spectator, who kept his gaze fixed upon

‘The gleaming point remained stationary for a
full minute, and then began slowly swaying to
the right and leftrlike a pendulum whose oscil-
lations sessed unusual amplitude. '

“ It s a lantern. and Mr. Benjamin Jones is
swingin it,”ku the conclusion of Cutt Whit-
nev. “ e‘is not such a fool as I suspected.”

Three times it oscillated through a large arc,
and then want up and down the 1 same number
of times.

Cutt Whitney. standing with one side turned
toward the farmer’s house andthe other toward
Oak Hall, now looked to the latter for the au-
swering s1 al. ,

On the 3 do of Oak Hall nearest him, all re-
mained shrouded in gloom. ‘ . I

Still the lantern-light of Ben Jones’shone with
the motionless glow of a star in the sky.

But only for a brief time, when the same sig-
nals were repeated. Three times to the right
and left, then three times up and down moved
the lantern. ' .

And now the expectant gaze of Whitney
caught the answer. .

A bright point of light flashed from among
the trees at t 6 side, of Oak Hall, and, remain-
ing stationary a moment or two, went through
the same motions that the lantern of Ben Jones
had, but a short while before.

_ The next instant, the farmer’s lantern van-

~islied.
It had probably been drawn into the window

and extinguished.

Almost simultaneously the light ’at Oak Hall
disappeared.

The parties. separated by a distance of one-
fog‘rth of a. mile, understood each other.

. be light from Oak Hall was not so high as
the other. It looked‘ as if the man who replied
to Ben J ones was standing on the porch. where
Gladys Linden had stepped from the carriage in

\' y/

the storm of the‘night before.

 

 

Mr. Cutt Whitney was doing some brisk
meditation. -

“ Well, I’ll be hanged l” was the first exclama
tion that escaped him. “Some persons are not
such bi fools as they look to be, and Mr. Ben-
jamin ones belongs to that class.”

“ Well, well," thought the detective, grimly
smiling at the clever manner in which he had
been outwitted, “a man is never too old to
learn. I wonder whether Zig has made any
such tumble as l; I guess not.”

Had Whitney known at that moment that his
friend and co-laborer was nursing a battered
head as be advanced along the highway and
that it was caused, by the butt of a pistol in the
bands of one of the gang, he would have taken
comfort from the thought that when brains are
pitted against brains, there is no certainty which
will win. '

There could be no doubt that Ben Jones, the
verdant’ farmer whom the detective had stum—
bled upon apparently by pure accident wasan
ally of the criminals that made their rendez-
vous at Oak Hall.

It was not improbable that he was in Ashe-
ville for the very:, purpose of spotting any
strangers who mig t appear with an investiga-
ting turn of mind.

“ By the great Caesarl” added Cutt Whitney,
as he slowly pushed on toward Oak Hall, ‘ I
have met that Ben Jones on the street several
times, and he was in the bar-room of the hotel,
when I went up to the room of Uncle Peleg;
can it be that he has any suspicion of him?”

The most alert detective would have been ex-
cusable for being misled by J ones as was Cutt
Whitney. The latter was satisfied that he was
the farmer he pretended to be, but he had vailed
his acuteness so skillfully that no one would
have suspecte‘ the shrewd ability that lurked
behind those big, honest eyes.

“ But he made a miss on one point,” thought
the detective with a little chuckle of satisfaction;
“ that swaying, see-sawing lantern which was
intended to warn the parties up the lane has
served the same purpose for me. He ought to
have waited a little longer, though I don’t know
as that would have he] ed him."

Having advanced t us far, Cutt Whitney
might well ask himself whether, after all, be
h made any substantial progress and what
was the next step to be taken.

Some of the difilculties of his situation will be V

understood.

Satisfied as he was that crooked work was
going on within the mysterious building, he
lacked the certainty that such was the fact. nor
was enough ascertained to warrant an entrance
on his part. i .

He had no means of knowing, nor indeed had
be yet found any ground for suspecting that
Miss Gladys Linden had ever set foot within
Oak Hall. -

While the translation of the cipher poiu
strongly to the rendezvous of the burglars being
at the place, and while the detective was almost
morally certain that some of the hog were
there at that moment, yet it won]
make a blunder.

Suppose he was mistaken in his theory. in
what way could he justify his forcible entrance
of the building?

No; it would not do to strike just yet. He
’must wait until he could gather up a few more

threads and weave them into a skein too strong ‘

to be broken: - r

Such and similar were his thoughts. as be ad-
vanced, with the stealth of an Apache Indian,
toward the opening of the lane.

The rattle of a wagon approaching frrm the ,

direction of Asheville caused him to hasten his
ste . so as to gain shelter. ,

t the mouth of the lane were so many trees
that he had .no trouble in concealing himself
behind the trunk of one of the largest.

The wagon, as it drew near, was seen to be
similar to that driven by Ben Jones, except
that it was drawn by a single horse which;
showed better speed. I r

0n thefmnt seat were three men. The driver
was on the right—that is closest to the watcher,-
Ehe logger two being partly hidden from view by

is .

Somelihing in the appearance of this couple
aroused the interest of Whitney, but, he could
not gain the view which was necessary to verify
his suspicions.

They did not look to the right nor left. nor did
they appear to be aware of the proximity of the
interest ng structure known as Oak Hall.

“ I seem to be in a latitude where the law is
to believe every one guilty until he is proved
innocent ” was the wary conclusion of the detec-
tive: " use men may be as innocent as I
thought Ben Jones was, at I doubt it—and now
I am sure of it I” ‘ ‘

The reuse of this decisive exclamation was
the abrupt stoppage of the wagon when less
than two hundred yards from where he was
standing.

It halted only a moment, but the sudden ces—
sation of‘the rattling of the wheels was notice.
able, though resumed so speedily. - . r

Looking intently in the direction. Catt Whifr
ney dimly discerned two shadowy figures as

they leaped out fromropp‘oeite sides of tho,

not do to '

 

 

 

x

 
  
   
  

 

 

«curses. ...


,.

 

 

7

Zigzag and



\

Cutt, the Invincible 

 

 

wagon. and comin together at the rear, walked
toward the lane w ere he was watching them
with close attention.

They advanced With such extreme care that
there could be no doubt their attention was fixed
upon Oak Hall. .

“ They may be two of the gang,” was his
thought, “ and if so, it will hardly do for me to
be seen-— Well, if that doesn’t beat every-
thing!” I

He had recognized the couple.

“We'll stop here under theshadow of these
trees," said one of the new arrivals; “it isn’t
very late and it’s best that we should recounoi-
for before going closer to the house.
mistaken there’s a villainous-looking scaan
crouching behind that tree-trunk there, and if I
ain’t still more mistaken, he is a trump known
among his acquaintances as Cutt Whitney."

With a chuckling laugh the detective advanced
and gave his hand to the s eaker.

“ I’m glad to meet you, ig, so far from home;
and vour friend here is—’

“ Fred Melville. at your service," said the lat-
ter, cordially taking the offered hand and intro-
ducing himself.

Cutt Whitney never felt the hollow mockery ‘
of words more vividly than when he grasped
the frankly-offered hand and declared himself

lfl ain’t ‘

3 Were his mysterious absences from home con—
, nected with his vain struggling against the fate
i that was hearing him down?

i Surely it must have been that Warren Carew
l spoke the truth, and the tender heart of Gladys

'1‘ was oppressed with anguish that her Uncle

Tudor had not made it known to her long before
that she might have had the opportunity to
stretch forth her arm ere it was too late.

But Warren had intimated in unmistakable
words that one of the conditions was that she
should give up her beloved rederic Melville.

Surely she could never-do that .’ Death was a
thousand times preferable.

These and similar thoughts surged through
thebrain of the poor girl, who, after step ing
across the threshold, drew buck and hel the
door almost closed, while she debated the mo-
mentous question whether she should advance
or stay where she was, and await the end that
could not be far away. .

Common prudence suggested that she should
stay where she was, since, if she was permitted
to pass outside the building, she would be a
number of miles from home in a strange coun-
try, and in the middle of the night.

But a woman's instinct or intuition is a safer
guide than her reason, and compressing her thin
lips, she resolved that, come what might, she

delighted to make the acquaintance of the hand— , would go forward.

some youth. '

While the hypocritical words were coming
from his lips, he thought how likely it was that
within the next twenty-four hours he would have
to click the handcuffs over those same wrists and 3
prficlaim to the world the guilt of Fred Mcl- .
V) 6.

Under the shadow of the trees the two detec-
tives briefly exchanged their experiences since
the had seen each other earlier in the day.

Ehch narrative was of absorbing interest to ]
the other. ,

Uncle Peleg removed his hat, and taking the ‘
hand of his friend, placed it on a lump as big as _
a goose egg on his forehead, with the remark: l

Once more the Cinderella-like foot pressed the
yielding carpet outside the door, and stepping
beyond, she closed it behind her. She had gath—
ered her warm wrin around her shoulders and
waist, and, though her headgear was of the
gauzy, fairy—like character fashionable at such
parties as the one she had attended at Ravens-
wold. yet with the exception of her thinly—shod
feet, she was warmly enough attired to venture

‘1 into the nipping ui'r outside doors.

Standing at the head of the stairs, she paused
with a rapidly-beating heart and listened.

The lamp was burning in the lower hall, shed-
ding ». mellow radiance abOVe and below. There
stood the massive hat-rack, the richly-covered

“ That’s what stopped the butt of the istol." I chair beside it, though on neither was any hat,

“ I wish I could feel sorr
I’ll be hanged if I can,” said
ed laugh.

“ I’m not aware that I asked for your sym- >
pathy,” replied the other. who knew how to take i
a joke from a friend; “ though if it hadn’t been
for Melville here, I’m afraid, as they say out

for you. lg. but
utt with a guard- l

uess." '
“He was a friend in need and therefore a

west, that it would havebeen my last sick- I closed.

friend indeed; but Zig, there‘s serious business ‘ th01

cap or coat to show that a single person was in
the house. _

To the right and left of the ball, as one entered
from the outside, was a. door, doubtless o ning
each into a room, for the broad hall was in the
middle of the building. These doors, as seen
from her position at the head of the stairs, were

Now and then, the muffled sound of voices
reached the strained ears of the listening Gladys,
h she could not recognize the words nor

1
before us: what’s to be done?” i coulf she tell from what quarter they came.

 

CHAPTER XIX.
scnoss run runssuonn.
’ vas softly drew back the outer door of

“It must be that Uncle Warren forgot to
fasten the door behind him. after bidding me
good-by,” was her thought, though she could
not assure herself that she was right. v

It must not be su posed that the fair prisoner,

her apartment in Oak Hall and placed her foot . after coming into t 0 upper ,ball, stood hesitat-

mss the threshold, but the next instant drew

A misgiving arrested her at the very moment

 

3g and doubtful about the step she ought to
6. ’
At such' time oue’s thoughts are swift and

her heart was aflutter with the thrilling hope of ' tumultuous, and there was no faltering on her

‘ escape and libert .

“ Why is this cor left unfastenedf” was the

prrt. Having gently closed the door, she moved

the few steps necessary to the head of the stars

question which checked her at the moment she l and then began descending to the lower floor.

had resolved that she would press forward and
never return to the hated room a sin.

When so much care had been to on to shut off , she was treading on elder down. .

every loop-hole by which she could free herself,
it certain y was strange that the most inviting
opening of all should be left at her command.

The rich stair carpeting when pressed by her
delicate foot ave back no more sound than if
'Having put her hand to the plow, as may be
said, the fair irl did not look back. .
She came own the steps rapid]

and was

It looked as if some ,trap had been set for her - almost at the bottom, when she bare y suppress-

delicate feet.

But what trap could there be? Who in that
house would dare offer her any indignity?

Aaron Buckholtz had guided the carriage in
which she was brought to Oak Hall; but, with
the exception of the cigar which he persisted in
smoking after entering the vehicle, his rsonal
course toward her was marked by s most
studious courtesy.

He had not used an objectionable word, nor
had be shown by look or manner that he held
any wrong thought toward the prisoner.

That he hoped y some means to gaina singular
advantage over her, either for himself or others,
was self-evident.

What that advantage was remained to be
learned. I

Then Warren Carew, twm brother of her be-
loved uncle, was also in the building at that mo—
ment, for she had heard his voice and his laugh,
so.wonderfully like that of the president of the

uk.

Sure] he would never consent that any, wrong
should 9' offered her. Even if disposed to per.
mil: it, his fears of the Consequences would deter

him. ,
But he had spoken of a baleful shadow that i
rested on the household in which he and his bro- '

ther were born. He had intimated that Gladys

held the power of saving her Uncle Tudor from .

dis ce, humiliation and death itself.
8%: could form no conception of its net .
but why had she not heard the story from is

, own If

Collide it be, she asked herself, that his 'late fre-

uent attacks of ‘ dizzmess and illness had any-
aiing to do with that awful terror that was
creeping upon and strangling him? -

ed a gasping shriek. for she distinctly heard a
voice from some point near at hand, saying:

“ I’ll be down again in a minute!" .

She could not turn back. nor had she time to
open the outer door and pass outside. She did
the wisest thing possible under the circum-
stances: she pushed back the dOnr on her right
Endgasmd into one of the rooms already men-

ion . r v

Fortunately the bin es in Oak Hall moved
with a luxurious noise essuess that would have
ilelighted the heart of any late arrival or burg.

ar.

Stepping within she pushed back the door so
that it was closed except for a tiny distance
which allowed her to peer out into the lighted
hall and see what passed immediately before her
e es.
yShe was not a second too soon. Indeed. there
.was ad instant when 6 was sure she was de-
tected, but she was not.

The figure that came along the hall, suing
within arm’s length of her, was that of arreu
Carew, so ve like Tudor that it was hard for

 

flingin herself into his arms.

His lothing was different from that which
she had been accustomed to see him wear, and
she was compelled to believe that it was not he
but the other so startlingly like him.

As he turned and began ascending the stairs,
his side was toward the watcher so that she ob-
served bis face plainly. The 9 color that
she had noticed w on seated in be room above
stairs, had given way to a flush. caused co
= doubt by the wine he had been drinking. '

As he placed his hand on the bauister, she de-
tected an unsteadinesa in his 'galt, and the pe-

   

ber to restrain herself from calling out and '

 

- ply, which was lost upon the young man.‘ ‘

in x; . _ _.1- .f. f “Hahn; m;  t ' .5; 9,4". , 1‘
etectives. 15 ‘ 
culiar blinking ,of the stages roved that the

fumes of the liquor had a co his brain.

To Gladys Linden this was the strongest proof
she had seen that the man before her was the
counterpart of Tudor Carew, but not the real

erson.

The latter was such a prohibitionist in princi-

1e and practice, that he would allow no alcohol
in his house, nor would he take it even for medi-
cinal purposes. The sight of Tudor Carew un-
der the influence of intoxicants was a picture
that Gladys could not form in her own mind.

Half-way up—stuirs the man halted and leaned
over the hamster. The heart of Gladys stood
still, for she was certain she was discovered. l i‘

But he was looking for some one else. .
“ Say, Buck,” he called, in a husky, uncertain 3
tone. , ‘

Aaron Buckholtz walked forward from the .
rear of the hall, and halting exactly in front of ' I.
the door behind which the lady was listening, ,
looked up with a laugh. , 

“ Well, old man, what is it?" 

“ Do you think I hadmthat is—better call on
the Wuug lady?" /

“ by not? It was your own proposal.” i.

“ lint am 1 in the proper—that is—-'dishioni” 1..)
he asked, with a lurch that narrowly missed ‘
bringing him to the foot of the stairs.

“Certainly; what is the matter with you?"

“ Don’t nothiu' see wr wr-wrcng, ehl”

“Not the least.”

“’Sall right then, ‘f you don’t see it: Buck.
you‘re a fool——that’s right—go back: I’ll yell V
for yer if my life gits in any danger of my I 6.: -
death—that is—(hic)—” , 

Buckholtz now stepped to the door leading in-
to the room where G adys Linden u as standing,
and opened it! ‘ x“

Except where the light from the lamp in the .
hall entered, this room was in utter darkness
and the close, musty smell showed that it had
not been opened for a long time.

Pushing the door a few inches inward, Buck-
holtz faced outward, his pOSition dcuhtlesu
chosen for the purpose of gaining a better view
of the movements of the uncertain individual
that had 'ust made his we to the upper hall.

Thus t e back of Buc holtz was turned to-
ward Gladys. who stepped slightly to one side,
where the gloom of the room hid her. Her
greatest fear was that the man would dttect
her reseuce from the tumultuous throbbing of
her cart. ’ ’

But such a catastrophe rarely takes place,
and she was safe so long as matters remained as ‘
they were. .

But the explosion must come the moment
Warren Carew opened the door of the apart:
ment she had occupied so long. ,

But despite the assurance of Buckholtz who
was rude enough to wish to have some sport,
even though there was risk of insultinga ad ,
the old gentleman lost confidence in his sobriety
before he could enter the room. _

This loss of confidence was caused by his at-
tempt to grasp the door knob, his failure to do
so by fully two feet while he bumped against
the wall with such a lurch that he'a most broke
his nose. ‘

He straightway resolved to defer his call to a
more propitious season, and came unsteadily
down the stairs in the face of the assurance of
Buokholtz that he was “all right,” and well
fitted to take care of himself.

He was stubborn, and insisted on going back
to the room where he, Buckholtgand a friend . ,
could resume their arousing. ' »

The moment Gladys foun herself alone a in’ ‘.
she glided from the room in whlth she bed can
hiding and placed her hand on the knob of the
outer door. ' - I

To her inexpressible relief, the night-latch 2
moved back without friction, and the next mo- -
ment the cool night air blew agmust her cheek. ' ‘

CHAPTER XX.
mans or ran NIGHT. . _ ‘
11' was about eleven o’clock at night that
three men stood under the shadow of the trees,
at the end of the lane leading to Oak Hall. ‘
They Were our old friends, Zigzng. Cutt Whit- n
ney and Fred Melville who wrre holding an
earnest conversation in low tones, the subject of V
which was a proposed descent (by the youngest“,
of the three) upon thegloomy building. ‘ -
Whitney had stated the self-evident fact that ’
nothing could be done, so ion as they rema‘lged ~
where they were, to which gm: replied th, ,
the equally self-evident observation, that .it was 
better to stay there than to make a blunder  '1;
which everything gained would be lost. ' i ‘
“ We have had enough slips,” said he; “ we
both thought it would be easy to make our way ‘
‘to Oak Hall without discovery but we have , .
failed to do so, and we mustn’t take another step ',
without feeling our way.” I 'r
“ But,” insisted Fred Melville, who by the or~»"
dering of fate had become a prominent factor:
in the investigation, “ is there not good reason
to believe that the men concerned in throbbing
of the bank are there?"  ‘
“Yes.” answered Catt Whitney, “that is,
most of them.”  T-
Zigzag understood the significance of this row

 

 

  
  
 
    
   
   
  
     
   
 
  
 
   

 

1

_

r

’16 Zigzag

4.
t

' we:

and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.”

HQ": :1; ‘1‘. L.

 

“ Then, why not force our way inside—search
the house from fiat-rot to cellar—clean them out
-—-arrest them l—and possibly flnd Miss Lin-
den and restore her to her friends?"

“I can understand how temptin a pro-
gramme it is to you," said Zigzag, w o appre-
ciated the ardor of the lover, “ but it won’t do.”

“ Why not?" was the impatient demand.

“ Since there is no call to leave this spot in a.
hurry. I will explain, my young friend. In the

i first place, we have no legal warrant, but would
' . be acting merely on suspicion, which may prove
' without grounds.”

“ [’11 take the consequences.” '

“That is a very kind oifcr, but the law isn’t
framed so as to allow a pleasing youth like you
to assume the responsibilities that; belong to two

 older heads. However, the consequences of a
9* mistake in that direction would not be so bad
i V after all, if that alone were involved, but there
['1 are far more Serious considerations.”

1‘ “ Let me hear them.”

. ; ‘ “ That some. of the bank burglars, if not all of

 _ them, are inside of Oak Hall this minute, I have
* r little donbt; but do you suppose that the party
1 v are unprepared for a visit from us?”

:1; “ Are we not Well armed l"

‘ “ N 0 better than they. Such gangs are al-
ways ready for a desperate light, and I don’t
consider that there is any more chance of our
getting inside of that building than there is of
capturing Gibraltar.”

 

_. . ney, who saw that Fred was silent and thought-
‘ v Iul. “ The only way that we can hope to do
anything is by sfratcgy.” -

“ How much has been accomplished by that
metliod?” asked Fred, looking quizzically at the

ea or.

“ Precious little, I’ll admit; but we are not
through yer.”

“But suplme you can prove that the men you
want a re in there—what then?”

“ Why, of course, we will make a descent
upon Oak Hill, for we cm summon all the help
we want. We have only to appeal to the OE—
cers of the law, and, if necessary, we will races
1 ,the building.”

“ Do you think,” asked the youn
voice in which he could not conce
lous anxiety, “ that she is there?”

“I cannot answer that question; tome the
chances seem about even, though I am somewhat
inclined to doubt it.”

“ May I ask since we are here whether your
intention is to stay in one spot all night?”
alThe detective laughed; the query was a natur-

one.

“ no means,” replied Zigza ; “ Whitne
and lywere anxious to reach thg interesting
place and we have succeeded in doing so.”

" Thou h through much trial and tribulation,”
suggss Whitney.

f ow we must make'a reconnoissance of the
plpgued spot and that is the most diflcult job of
8

“ Why?” asked Melville.

“ You can see ,far yourself. The moon is
shining brightly and the men in there are on
their guard. The two gentlemen with whom I had
the dispute have managed to find their way here,
despite the fact that we got a lift with a passing
farmer, while Cutt’s friend under the innocent

 

man, in a
his tremu—

   
  
  
 
    

. the persons inside there who showed that the
can ht’on, when they flashed the signal bac
aga n. . '

“Very well.” added Zigzag, “whether they
- are the particular parties whom we are seeking
4 or not, they are no fools, and, being on their
guard. the will watch every avenue of a -
,proach. I the night was very dark, we could
separate, with a chance of doing something by
creeping - us close beneath the windows and
'llstemng. ut the bright moonlight would play
the mischief with any such plan.

“The only ‘wa of concealin ourselves is by
keeping within he shadow 0 these trees, but,
‘tnnce that won’t help us any. we will now venture
'n little closer and then I’ll see what can be
done.” -

, , Inasmuch as the lane was deeply shaded

zthroughout the whole two hundred yards of its

,. length, it was not dimcult to steal forward for
half that distance without detection.

When, however, they were so near that the

‘oatllnes of the structure were visible, they

.. dared go no further. '

_ ' It was at this moment that Melville and Whit-
:1. mysaw Zigzag, who was a short distance in ad-

Nance, bent down and closely examining a small

Patch in the lane, where the moonlight fell upon

A file manner was that of an American In-
Khalil, looking for the trail of some person or ani-
ma . ‘ '
and that was preci ly what the detective was
mg. '
Adepression in the damp earth caught his
. rays, and be scrutinized it c osely with his nose
1‘ ' “3?:th tillelnp't f horseshoe
-, was e pm 0 a w'th th
' v pointing toward Oak Hall. ' l 8 too
. Examining the ground. near the depression,
he found several others with the toes pointing
‘in the same direction.

“My friend speaks the truth," added Whit- ’

name of Ben J ones, has telegraphed the news to ,

 

I

But there were none turned the other way.

“Mr. Tudor Carew is still there,” was the

conclusion of Zigzag, who of coursehad learned

1 from Whitney all about the extraordinary de-
l parture of that gentleman on horseback.

Whitney had not yet told him of the aston-

ishing discover he had made by comparing the

l figures in the cipher with those that he saw on
i one of the pa es of the bookkeeper-’5 ledger that
1 day in the As eville Bank.
4 0 suitable opportunity had preserin itself,
, but he intended to consult with his brother ofli-
! car the first chance he ‘could get.

It looked strange that the two ofiicere should
,' be on such intimate terms with a man whom it
i, was likely they would have to arrest within tho
; next twenty-four hours; but it is by such means
, that most of the achievements of the professional
! detective are effected.

“ Now,” said Zigzag, “I think you had better
stay here while I venture a little nearer. One
man isn‘t as likely to be seen as three.” ‘

“ That depends wholly on the men concerned;
1 but go ahead, Zig, and good luck to you,” said
‘ Whitney.

They saw their friend move as silently as a
shadow through the gloom, so dense that he al—
j most instantly vanished from their sight; then
‘ all they had to do was do nothing—the most tire-
‘ some of all occupations, so to speak. .

From where Cutt Whitne and Fred Melville
st00d. the could see Oak .111, but could hear
nothing 0 what was going on within. As we
have stated, the night was a crisp, cool one in
autumn, with a bright moon shining from an
‘ almost unclouded sky. The clearness of the at‘
mosphere was welcome enough while making
their difficult way thither from Ashevil'le, but
they would have been only too glad to dispense
with it now. ~

All the shutters on the lower floor were closed
~——those at the upper room being open, but the
curtains were drawn, with the exception of the
barred windows of Gladys Linden’s apartment.
, Since that, however, opened on another side of
j the building, it,clid not come into the field of ob-

servation of the two watchers.
From their standpoint they caught the dull
, glare of the lampligjht behind the curtains of the
; upper front room, at for all the good that it
di them, it might not have been there at all.
“ Fred Melville,” said Whitney, after the
silence had lasted several minutes, “there’s no
I saying how long Zigzag may begone, and we are
likely to have‘a dismal time Waiting. Provided
we are not disturbed, it will be safe to speak. in
low tones.”

“ I’ll be mighty glad," Fred hastened to reply,
in the same guarded voice, “ for 1 am not used
to this sort of thing.” '

“ It strikes me that you are in such need of
slee that you must have it retty soon.” '

‘“ y nerves are under severe tension to
allow slumber. though of course it will have to
come in time." 

“ Some of the questions which I ask. you may
seem curious, but I hope you will give me honest
answers.”

“I always try to do that to every question
asked me,” was the manly response of young
Melville.

“In the first place, how man people do you
supp‘ose were engaged in the urglary of the
ban last night?"

h“ If”the watchman is to be believed, there were
t res. ' -

“ How many were concerned in the abduction
of Miss Linden?”

“ I have no means of knowing, but I should
say about the same number.”

“ ,0 you think they met at ‘ O. H.’ before the
crimewas committed?” ' '

The wondering look which Fred Melville
turned on his questioner was almost visible in
the darkness.

“ If you'll put your queries in a shape that I
can understand I will do what I can to answer
them. What do you mean by ‘0. EL?’ ”

“ Oak Hall.”

“Wouldn’t it have been as easy to say so? I
shouldn’t be surprised if it proved that the plot
'was laid there.” , ‘

“ Another thing-Mr. Melville, are you fond
of cilpger writing?” ‘ -

“ ydu mean the formation of puzzles?”

6‘ Yes.” , ’

“ I can’t say that I am particularly, though
Miss Linden and l have sometimes amused our-
selves in writing to each other by that means?”

“ When did ,you last indulge in the amuse-
meat?”

“I cannot fix the time, but "it must have been
several weeks ago.” _ ,

“ Can you recall what your message was?”

3 Really, Mr. Whit ev—” 4

pardon,” the detective hastened to say;
“ we‘ll drop the matter, if you please.”

CHAPTER XXI.
 wm'rnnai
WHEN the crisp autumn air kissed the fair
0 kn of Gladys Linden, as she opened the door
0 Oak Hall, it brought with it something of the
revivifyiug power of a class of water pressed to
the lips of one whose blood is aflame with fever.
“ I will never turn back,” was the resolution

 

 

 

that found a whispered exclamation as she softr
1y drew the door to behind her; ‘ now that I
have started, I will die before I will yield.”

The next instant, she had to decide whether
she would turn to the right or left; that is she
was obliged to choose between going down the
lane to the highway and thence pushing her way
homeward as best she could, or whether she
would turn to the right toward the stable, and
outbuildings attached to Oak Hall

The fair fugitive would have preferred above
all things to hasten down the lane to the public
road and then, despite the lateness of the hour,
to press toward Asheville. .

She had a general kiiOwledge of the course
of the carriage and could hardly go wrong.

ut she was restrained by the fear of pursuit.
She was sure from what she had seen that her
flight would soon be discovered. Her enemies
were sure to follow, and how could she escape,
since she was in a section where she did not
know a single inhabitant?

Her pursuers would take the road to the right
and left, and so long as she remained in the
hi hway they would be certain to find her.

ut, by turning to the right, toward the
stable and outbuildings, she would come upon
some place where she could hide herself until
morning when she was hopeful of finding the
means of reaching her friends.

So after only a few seconds’ deliberation, she
decided to hasten to the right.

Alas and alas again!

Had she but moved down the lane toward the
highway, she would have gone but a short dis~
tance before being clasped in the arms of her
lover, Fred Melville, who would have given his
life to protect a hair of her head from harm.

And had he only known. while standing in the
dense shadow, holding such close conversation
'vvith Cutt Whitney, that she was on the porch
of Oak Hall, debating which way to o, ah, how
he would have bounded forward an defied all
the powers of earth to take her from him!

But not vet! not yet!

Gladys Linden overestimated her fortitude;
for, after hurrying beyond the dense shadow
that enveloped the house, and reaching the Inas-
sive stable, she shrunk from entering the in-
terior, where all was blank darkness, and total-
ly unfamiliar to her. '

There was‘ no telling what might befall her
where she could I form no idea of her surround-
ings. ,

Since, however, it seemed all that was lett
for her to do, she raised her hand to open the
door with the intention of entering.

But, as she ought to have anticipated, the
lock was as secure as if it belonged to the outer
door of a bank buildin .

Gladys half laugh to herself, as she made

her way to what may be called the barn proper,

where the same difliculty was encountered.
The truth then dawned upon her that the only
'ble wa by which she could spend the rest
of the hi
by returning to Oak Hall itself.

But she would rather perish with cold and
hunger than go there again.

So she gathered her wrap closer about her and
pressed on. '

The lane connecting with the public highway
did not terminate among the outbuil ings of
Oak. Hall, but extended beyond and into a
stretch of woods, ,whose dark outlines were
seen by the young lady, as she moved in that
direction. '

There was sometbin so forbidding and gloomy
in their appearance. t at she walked slower and
slower as she neared them.

Gladys was on the point of stopping. when a.
slight rustling causal or to look around.

Certain that she saw the figure of a man up-
proaching, she broke into a run andspod like a
fawn to the forest for shelter.

Panting and almost breathless she glanced i.

once more behind her, before reac ing the con-
cealment, but that which had so terrified her
was in isuble.

“ Thank Heaven 1” she exclaimed, “ but it was
a narrow escape.”

And yet it was probable that she saw nothing
at all, but that her excited ima ination gave
form and outline to that which di not exist.

She had not yet entered the wood when she
came down to a more deliberate walk.

To the right, and not far away, gleamed the
surface of the body of water which she had seen
more than once, through the ban: 0: the window
of her room. ' '

‘ “ I can understand," she said to herself, “ how

' one driven by des air would fly to such a refuge

for forgetfulness rom grief, but what c9uld in-
duce me to seek such relief?”

Indeed, she had no dream of so terrible a re-
source. \ . .

Youth and bounding health are not easily
driven to suicide. Especially when. sustained
by the sublime faith of an overruhng Provi-
dence and the consciousness of love. returned,
does the humanvheart cling to life With a vigor
that will never yield. , . ,

The thoughts which surged through the brain
of Gladys Linden. as she looked out at the mir.
tor—like surface of the lake, were such as might

have been expected in one who heldso flung

 

 

 

t under a roof, in that vicinity was ‘

 

 

 

 

  

l
l
.

 

 

,l‘

i

 

   

Zigzag and Catt, the Invincible"

,,

,5.

rue, r.  ,r, W. _' 9",,

e eotives.

 

 

 

faith in heaven and in the loyalty and devotion
of her lover. _ I

She felt how puny and imigmficaut was her
own strength, if it faltered when put to the

test.

“ No,” she added, turning away, “ I have no
right to murmur because flud thorns in my
path; I will press to the end.”

But this time she was not mistaken.

Between her and the lake she discerned two
figures. They looked huge and grotesque, as
outlined against the silvery surface behind them,
and they walked cautiously forward.

At that moment, Gladys was ,in the edge of
the wood which she longed and yet hesitated to
enter, and with the gloomy shadow infolding
her, she knew that she was invisible to the men
who were so plainly seen by her.

Besides, they were not coming in her direc-
tion, but followings. course. which, if continued,
Would take them to Oak Hall; such, doubtless,
was their destination.

“Who can they be?" was the question which
she naturally asked herself, while watching
their movements with the closest interest.

They 'advanced at a leisurely r e, swerving
to the left until finally lost to sigh among the
trees that surrounded the gloomy building.

“They must be friends of the people in the
house,” was the correct conclusion of the lady,
“and, therefore, enemies of mine.”

It may as well be stated that the parties whom
she observed were the couple that had given
Zigzag the detective such a lively reception
earlier in the evening, when he was making his
way over the Beavertomi highway to the house
in which the lady herself was a prisoner.

Gladys could not help contrasting her situa-
tion with that of twenty-four hours before, when
she was the brightest and merriest of the gay
party gathered at Ravensworld.

She recalled the thrilling clasp of Fred Mel—
Villa‘s arm and hand, his homing words, his
eager, hungry looks, his ardent devotion to her,
and far the moment she forgot she was a fugi-
tive. miles, from home, and without a roof to
shelter her head.

She felt and saw it allagain. Theintoxicating
music. the delicious whirl of the waltz, the rav-
ishing nerfuine, the joyous words and faces. the
fairy-like land of cnchantmentl—vall were there,
and once more she lived over the blissful mo—
ments that were too radiant, too bright, too
heavenly to last.

The night wmd stirred the branches overhead
and soughed amon the limbs of the trees that
were losing their c inging ve station. With a
sigh, she opened her eyes an gazed bewilder-
ingly around her. I

“Whither shall I go?” wasthe question that
had trembled on her lips more than once that
evening, and that stirred her heart again. “ in
the gloom of this forest I shall find shelter until
—until when?”

One cause of-terror was removed. Although
from the indignity which she had suffered, it
might be believed that she was living in a bar-
barous clime, or on the frontier of our own
country, yet such was not the fact, and she had
nothing to fear from the wild beasts which often
render it unsafe for a man even to venture be-
yond sight of his own home without firearms.

But the respect of spending five or six hours
in the cold), dark, gloomy woods, was one from
which: the strongest-h
shrin . .

The next emotion of Gladys was that of burn-
ing indignation because she was in this fearful
situation.

“ Why am I here? What have I done, what
crime have I committed that here at the mid-
night hour, I am standing on the fringe of the
dismal forest with no other shelter for my doom-
ed head? _ .
“ ho is the author of this indignity? Is it
Aaron Buckholtn, that dares thus to bee insults
upon me because I chose to reject his ove and
accept that of Fred? But this is a country of
law and he shall receive his punishment Wit out
waiting for the retribution that God will surely
visit upon him."

It seemed to her at that moment, as though she
could visit him with the moat cruel of deaths,
for his daring defiance of law and the right.

That no punishment was too Severe for the

person might well

miscreant—prom’ded he was the responsible.

party—will be admitted. ,

But alasl little did Gladys Linden suspect or
dream of the whole dreadful truth.

It was only natural, perhaps, that the next
feeling that swayed the heart of the gentle lady
was akin to pity for the one whom she hated but
the moment before.

“ Poor man l" she sighed, "what a mistake
that he should have refused to listen to con-
science! what will he say when called to answer
for this?

“ He can have no excuse, and puttin ofl the
day of repentance too lon , he will flu that it
has been sinned away fore er.”

But it was idle to stand thus on the edge of the
woods, hesitating and yet resolved to 0 on.

And so with a prayer to God for gu dance and
protection she went forward.

But whither?

CHAPTER XXII.

THE RECONNOISSA NOE.

MEANWHILE Zigzag the detective was doing
everything possible to gain the information that
was so necessary to the success of himself and his
associates. ' -

Had he been allowed his choice, he would
have preferred to be entirely alone rather than
to have the company of Cutt Whitney and Fred
Melville, high as ,was the esteem in which he
held them both.

This was a scouting expedition, as it may be
called, on which he was engaged, when numbers
were likely to be an incuinbrance, but the fates
had decreed that they should be with him, and
he accepted the decree with a philosophy that
was a part of his nature.

It would seem that now that the eavesdrop-
pers had entered the bank of shadow in which
Oak Hall was shrouded, that one of their num-
her at least ought to be able to move about with-
out detection.

Such undoubtedly would have been the case,
but for the mishaps by which the partieswith-
in were apprised of their coming.

“ Nodoubt they are the proprietors of a dog,
as big as a cow which wi 1 bounce out upon a

Zigzag, as he halted within twenty feet of the
building. ‘

But that was another of the chances which
persons in his business must take.

With an eye and ear trained like that of an
American Indian, Zigzag looked and listened.

He could see the light from the hall within,
shining throu h the glass over the door, but
the other win ows on the lower floor being clos-
gd, Oak Hall became like a “ Sealed book" to

1m.

Manifestly nothing was to be learned by stand-
ing still and he began acareful circuit of the
building.

This was a delicate and difficult task, for it
would settle the question whether any one was
on the watch, after receiving warning that sus-
picious parties were in the neighborhood.

He was inclined! toj believe that, vtvith “1:93;-
ception rha s o a 0g, no precau ion 0 e
kind he Ifiguriafhad. been taken.

The round for this belief was that there was
no goo reason why such a precaution should be
taken, since neither he nor his allies could ac-
complish anything without entering the build—

in . .

The affirmative side of the question, so to

ak, rested with the prowlers on the outside.
' hey were obliged to establish their case, while
the defendants had but to hide their time.

Step by step, and literally feeling every step
of the way Zigzag advanced on his perilous and
dangerous business. '

Had he been beyond the forest of trees which
encircled the building, he could not have avoided
detection by any one who might chance to look
toward him. '

But among the trees themselves, even though
they were mostly denuded of their foliage, e
was hopeful o escaping discovery by any
sharp eyes that might be on the watch for in-
truders. -

In this guarded and stealthy manner, be final-
ly passed along the entire front of the building
to a point where he could see the end of the
structure.

Inasmuchas a new field, opened on his vision
he stood still for several minutes to look an
co itate. ‘

veral interesting facts became a parent.

The reader Will bear in mind that e was now
lookingn n that portion of Oak Hall whence
Gladys inden had seen what she at first
giought was _the apparition of her uncle, Tudor

EI‘BW.

The curtains all being down in the upper rt
of the front of the house, Zigzag was has 9 to
discover anything of an encouragm nature.

But his pulse gave a little extra fl. as he no-
ticed that a light was not only shiniu from one
of the upper windows, but that t o curtain
was drawn, or raised, so that whoever was in-
side the room could look out.

Consequently whoever was outside could look

within, provided his elevation was sufficient.
. The fact that the detective had reached this
point without coming in collision with an dog
satisfied him that there was nothing 0 that
nature to make him afraid. ,

This conviction was highly satisfactory and
nerved him to attem t many things that he
would not have dar to do had the case been
otherwise.

. What more natural thanthat he should climb
one of the trees aflording such a view and take
a eep at the interior?

It was a bold thing to do, for there was no
saying who might be there to receive him, and
there is no disputing the truth that a man “ up
a tree ” is in anything but a favorable situation
in case of danger.

The ‘ fact which anno ed Zigzag the most
.was that the trees direct y in front of the win—

 

dow were so much sparser than at any other
place.

But neither eye nor ear could discover any- '8

thing amiss and having decided on his course of

fellow before he knows he is coming," thought'

 

 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
      

action, he carried it out with his ususal prompt-
l]

ess.

A few minutes were enough to climbto an
elevation that gave him an uninterrupted view ,.
of the room which was an object of so much " i.
curiosity to him. 1

He saw an interesting sight.

The fight overhead was burning and he noted
the bed, the rich furniture, the pictures and the
handsome appointments, so far as they were
visible to one in his situation.

He saw no one in the room, nor any evidence
of its recent occupancy. Gladys Linden’s nat-
ural neatness and the fa ct that she did not know
at what hour she would receive a caller, led her
to keep her apartment in the best pessible order.

When she went out, she carried on her person
everything that she wore when she entered Oak
Hall the night before. I

Consequently, there was no article of feminine
apparel, no little trinket or toy to show that she
had been there so recently. -

But Zigzag was struck by one sight that
greeted his sharp scrutiny; he saw the iron bars
across the windows.

“Nothing is plainer than that they have been ,
put there to keep some person in. ‘It is hardly
to be supposed that they were gotten u ex-
pressly for the benefit of Miss Linden, ut I
shouldn’t be surprised if they had restrained

er.

Strange perversity of fate!

At the very minute Detective Zi g halted
under the tree and looked up at t 9 window, . '-
Gladys Linden was in the reom.

At the very minute, too that-he began climb- .
ing with so much care, she passcd out of the
apartment. 7

Had he been a brief while earlier, or she a
brief while later, the communication would have >
been established between them, an understand-
ing quickly reached and the singular histo ,
we have set out to te , would have ended muc \ r -‘
sooner than it did. _ 1

For, had Detective Zigzag assured himself be-

ond all doubt that the missin lady was within ’

ak Hall, he would not have esitated to sumo
mon the help of the authorities (had it been no-
cessary) and “ raided ” the house in his most vig-
orous fashion. 7

Had the intoxicated Warren Carew stumbled '
into the ronm, an altogether different complica- '
tion would havo resulted. ~
But the eavesdropper observed nothing of the,
two persons whom he so narrowly missed
seeing. ‘ ~

Remambering that he was in an unpleasant
position, in the event of discovery, Zi zag lost
no time in descending from his perch, rowing a‘
sigh of relief when he once more fe t his feet on ~
so id ground. ‘ . {
So far ache could judge, no enemy 'had 01>
served him since coming within the shadow of.
Oak Hall. \ 4 :
He knew how easily it was to be mistaken on
that point but he was plucky and nervy and ’ v ’.
felt quite able to take care of himself. '

other]
half.»

  
 
    
    
    
 
    
     
   
     
 

     
 
   

 
 

  

     
  

 
  

  
     
        
     
      

Reouming his advance, he now passed the
corner of the building, having gone fully
way around the structure. - . .

Suddenly his sharp ear caughttbe sound u 1
voices. A ray or two of light shot out from be-:
tween the tig tlyvclosed shutters just in front, ,,
so that it was easy to locate the parties. : ' I
‘ In the dense gloom no one could be seen, and
the detective glided forward like a shadow untlk
he stood with his ear against the e co
slight that the e e was of no service. I -

He now plain y heard the voices within.“

More than that he nixed all three;- Th!
wine which they were drinking had mounted
their heads, else they would have taken mom
pains to control their ton so. I

“I tell you.” said one, ringing his glass down“
upon' the table with a bang, ‘ it’s the biggedt:
strike we’ve made since we went into ,
“ And I tell you,” said another in an aqua
uncertain voice, “that the strike hasn‘t been
made yet.” - . ° .
“ Who): the reason—hasn’t?” asked Warren“
Carew in a more shaky utterance than 6! '
“ isn‘t the boodle all right?" ‘ '7

“ But the Pot of the bus’ness isn’t; we MW'
out of the woods yet; the files are there  «o
watchiu’ for us.” ' "
“ Tha’s so—Ben give us the signal a while,
—ole Zagzig himself has been down in Ashcv ‘5
playin’ his dad e of Uncle Peleg.“ ‘ ' E“
“ Yes, and t era’s another of ’em pokin’
gpse ro’i’indiggg :Enk mg louln'in overthe - o -

pose, a as aer,wt agro no,
tem t to be funny, Elie thought he’d 6:31”
the u’glars atween the leaves.” ‘ ' ,

“Why the mischief,” asked the most sober
the party, “ don’t they ’rest Fred Melville!”
spoke the name ‘ Fred' twice last night, to-
wetnbman would blow onto it.”

‘ Detective Zizzag’s blood tingled. He could»

longer doubt the innocence of his com "
Fred Melville, dos ire several suspicious m
stances that rem ned to be cleaml up. -

" You see,” added the same loqnaciout ~
vidnal, “there was only three pe ’ ' ,,
that knowed the c’m’b’nathmpand them vain“?
comer—or Foodor Canoe, the pres’d’nw *
c’ahier and Med Frellow, the b’k-k’per.” : I

    
 

 
 

 

    

    
 
    

  
    
    
  
 
     
       
  
  
 
  
  
        
  
  
     
   
  
  
   
 
  
    
   
  
     
     
    
 
 
     
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
    
   
   
  
 
   
     
  

  

  

 
 

m i .n i a

’15;

1' Zigzag and butt,   Detectives?

_-l.:\  “Hi?” :.,

 

 

“ Mebbe they’ll ’rest the pres’dent,” suggested
Warren Carew, “ or Honeym’n.”

“ No danger th’t,” was the cheerful response,
“but what I c’nlt ’stand is why they don‘t scoop
in the b’k‘p‘er."

“ Course the must know we got it from him
—--course they 0.”

Detective Zigzag listened intently, in the hope
of catching one or two important words that
seemed on the point of the tongue of more than
one of the gang, but they were fast reaching
that condition that their words and sentences

 ' lost all meaning.

Ten minutes of this listening failing to give
any more clew, he withdrew from the window,
and noiselessly picked his way toward the end
of the building opposite to that where he had

. climbed the tree.

It was here that the carriage had driven up
from which Gladys Linden had stepped the
evening before into her prison.

I And it was fromltliis door that she had stealth-

:r, ily emerged in her Wild attempt to escape at the

5 very time Detective Zigzag was descending the

3.: tree from whose branches he had peered into
her apartment.

The officer was standing undecided for a. min-

;r‘ . ute or two whether to go further or 1:0 turn
’ back, when he made the unwelcome discovery
i'; . that he was not alone.

' CHAPTER XXIII.
IN THE LION’S DEN.
ZIGZAG~ the detective had substantially com—
.loted his circuit of the building known as Oak
all, and was standing near the door opening
on the lane, when . he became aware that two
3 . strangers were in his immediate vicinity.
7- Accident gave the ofiicer an advantage.
 He was standing still, and they were moving.
 Had the case been reversed, more than likely
he would have been discovered by them without
betrayal of themselves, for the shadowsinclosing
them were so deep that only the keenest vision
could serve its owner.
At first Zigzag could only hear them, but,
I peering keenly in the direction whence came
the suspicious rustling, he made out the forms of
, 1 ‘two men' feeling their way toward the same
door that be had been inspecting for . several
minutes.
. “ Perhaps they are ambitious amateur detec-
tives, was the thought of the disgusted ofioer,
V " and” I would prefer a couple of imported bull—

d .
fight he quickly discovered his mistake.

At the moment the new arrivals were ready

to step upon the porch, and when their figures
were shown distinctly by the light from the hall,
one of them turned his head and looked down
the lane with such a sudden start that Zigzag
w?) alarmed lest his friends had betrayed them-
ne ves.

But it was only a simple matter of precaution
on the part of the man, who saw and heard
nothingguunsual.

The act brought his profile into such clear re-
lief that Zigzag observed his mustache and the
general formation of his features.

Almost at the same moment his companion
_step into Zigzag's ran 0 of vision and a less
dist nct view was obtain of him.

It was enough. They were the two with
. whom Zigmg had had the skirmish earlier in the
'evening.

, Instead of following the highway to Oak Hall.
‘ {thede taken a roundabout course, so as to
avoid meeting the detective and his companion
Fred. Melville.

' ' This circuitous route had doubtless led them
across fields and through woods that had so‘ de—
in them that their arrival was a long time
a ter that of the couple whom they had sought
to avaid.

,, Much to the delight of Zigzag. the scamps
Qwere disposed to indulge in a little badinace bed
jforo entering Oak Hall. They were evidently
Iorelieved at reaching the end of their labori-
rods journey that they felt like a little pleas-

"ml;

.' “ tt, how’s your head?” asked one.

‘ “ I guess it’s done swelling. was the reply of

Mother: “ it’s bu’sted my hat, so there’s nothing
its growth; how’s your crown?"

, “I bought for awhile it was caved in. I but

belie") it’s all right. However, I‘m six inches

lhflrter,” a’dded the speaker briskly.

J i

 

 

   
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
  
    
    
 
  
    
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
  
      
    
 
 
    
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 

“‘ When that infernal Zigzag gave me that
fling over his head, I landed on my crown so
suddenly that my head was ammed six inches
between my shoulders. '
I“ I it Will gradually work up, Jack, but
4;“ it on‘t,‘a lot of us will pull it into place
(again.

  

[I wonder if the folks expecht authentic?l
9 open or, stepping upon he pore as on
he had made up his mind to enter. ’ g

.

 

' “It don’t make any difference whether they
,do or not; if we ain’t welcome we’ll make our-
<fllm so.”

  

  
   

 

Lgot. we shall have to dig out.”
“(Where will we go?” .
There’s lots of places. but I’m in favor of ‘

  

 

the world.”

“If it hadn’t been for that internal Zi zag.
we would have been safe here," growl the
other, “ but he has a way of turning up just in
time to spoil everythin .”

“What a pity we idn’t finish him‘ before
that other scamp put in an appearance 1”

“ If he had been a minute later, it would have
been the last of Mr. Zigzag.”

“ And it came very near bein the last of us.”

“I wonder what’s become 0 the two,” said
one, peering around in the gloom as thou h he
suspected that the dreadful officer mig t be

' lurking in the vicinity.

“ No doubt they’re somewhere in the neighbor-
hood, but we’ll give them a hot reception if they
show up. ’

“ Well, there‘s several bottles of champagne
to be opened to«night and we must have our
share.” -

The (prospect seemed to amuse both. for they
steppe forward, and, without any more words,
entered the buildin .

It need not be sai that Zigzag, the detective,
was a. deeply-interested listener to these few
words. He had already learned enough to whet
his appetite for more. Having recognized some
of the parties concerned, he was able to form a
pretty correct conclusion concerning the others,

The con Is that had just passed from sight
talked so aniiliarly that it was clear they had
no fear of unfriendly ears overhearing what
they said. ‘

Talking thus. they addressed each lother as
“Matt” and “ Jack." Even before they did so,
Zigzag was convinced that they were two of the
most desperate bank burglars in the country.
They traveled under a dozen aliases, but their
right names, there was reason to believe, was
Matt Hardy and Jack Tovey.

There was one point which the watchful de-
tective noticed, and which instantly suggested a
daring act.

When Hardy opened the door for himself and
Tovely, he ap lied a latch-key that worked so
simp y that t ere was but an instant/s delay.
The two then entered, closing the door careless-
ly behind them, so that there was considerable
noise which seemed to attract no attention from
a one within.

bserving this, Zigzag formed the audacious
resolve to follow them into the building.

None knew better than he the desperate char-
acter of this attempt, in which it would up or
that all the chances were against him; but t ere
was something in the prospect which stirred his

, also, as the sound of the battle thrills the war-

orse. -

Besides, he has learned from his own experi-
ence. and it had been proven by the events of
the night before, that the boldest plans are often
more successful than the timid ones.

He was inclined to acquaint Cutt Whitney
and Fred Melville with his purpose, but was re-
strained from doing so by his fear that Melville

.would insist upon going with him.

Besides, it would require considerable time
which was too valuable to be wasted at this
sta e of the proceedings. ~ a

ey had been told to await his return, and
Whitney ought to know his business well enough
to see that his orders were followed, since serious
mishap was likely to follow any disregard on
“5" pm' use ha to i a fte
igzagwa perps nmnusa r
Hardy and Tovey had passed from sight. He
wished to give them time to jom the revelers,
35123 was satisfied they would do with little

e y. ,

To make sure on this point, he stole along the
side of the building to the window, where he
had played the eavesdrogper some time before.

As be anticipated, he card the voices of, the
two isterously greeting and eceiving the
man lin welcome of their friends.‘ There could
be no doubt that they had arrived.

Zigzag would have em ed to listen, but really
there was little of anyth ng to be gained by do.
ing so. Accordingly he made his way back to
ahelgorch by whose door every one entered the

ui ing.

The little twist of wire which he carried with
him, and in the use of which he was an expert,
required slight manipulation in order to turn
back the night latch, when the door readily
(apeIpefilafind the next minute he was in.-ide of

a . V

His quick eye took in all the points that greet-
ed Gladys Linden, twenty-four hours before.
when she passed within, and be naturally stood
garments, for a full minute before going fur-

er.

From his station, he caught the sound of
voices from the room beyond, where he knew
the revelers were rejoicing over the brilliant
success of their double crime.

At the end of the minute Zigzag began ascend-
ing the. stairs. He knew how to step lightly
and Was pleased to find that the soft, yielding
carpet gave back no echo of his fwtsteps.

At the top of the stairs, he turned toward the

r “If the detectives hava got their eyes on this ‘ room whose location he knew without the guid-
, ing light which found .its way through the

transom overhead.- . i
The apartment had not been visited since the

Now York every time. It’s thobest hidingvplaee departure of. the prisoner. and he entered with

some care, not knowing whom he was liable to

 

encounter, but prepared for whomsoever it

might .

. n indescribable something told the sagacious
Zigzag that he was standing within a mom
made sacred by the resent or recent occupancy
of .a lady and the rave fellow felt more hesi-
tancy than he had known since venturing upon
his dangerous enterprise.

Gladys Linden was one of those ladies who un-
derstood the use of the sweetest and must deli-
cate of perfumes. The faint, subtle odor which
reached the intruder was what might be called
the suggestion of rather than a perfume itself.

It was so slight that it was hard to define its
nature, but that it existed in the cool air of the
apartment was as certain as that the mun him-
self stood there, looking around, listening and
wondering what next to do.

A If there was any doubt in the mind of Zigza ,
it was removed the next minute when he 0 -
served a satin bow on the floor. Stooping down
he picked up the pretty ornament which had
fallen from the fairy-like slipper of the lady,
unnoticed by her.

The detective was held motionless by the fear
that she was present. if not in the room in the
one connecting with it.

He was fearful that if such was the case, the
sudden disnovei'y of a man in her apartments
would lead her to scream and thus ruin the
scheme he had formed for her rescue.

Standing thus. he said in a low voice:

“ Fair lady, I beg you not to be alarmed: I
am akfriend who has come to do what I can for
you.

The words, repeated in asomewhat louder key,
failing to bring any response, he ventured softly
into the next room, which a brief examination
convinced him was (mpty.

“ She is not here, but whether she has fled or
not is left to me to find out. '

Naturally it did not seem likelytohim that
havin been placed there as a prisoner she had
been a lowed to secs 9.

But the unfastene door through which he had
just walked told that if she had wished to do so,
the way was invitingly open.

Where then could she be?

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
A DEPARTURE.

Ir being clear that the lady for whom the de.- l

tective was looking was in neither of the apart—
merits just entered, he lost no time in useless
search in that quarter.

Coming out into the upper hall again, he set
about examining the other rooms. ‘

But here he was confronted by a new diffi-
culty. Every door that he tried was locked.
and« the wire which he knew how to use with
sucil; skill was unequal to the demands made up.
on .

The locks must have been of an unusually‘

complicated character, 'for the simple device
had never failed him before. As it was, he was
compelled to give it  V

Then he ascend to the third stir ,
There none of the doors were locked and t e
matches which he struck gave him all the light
he needed. ~

But no discovery of account was made, and
he came back to the hall of the second story.

Before he could descend to the lower floor, the
door from the room where the revelers were
gathered. opened and the whole party came out
into the hall. There they stood for a- few min-
utesl talking after the rambling fashion of men
whose Wits were dulled by wine.‘

Zigzag longed to look over the banisier and
down u on the cup, but, to do so, would have
expo him a most to certain detection. He
therefore, kept heck out of their range‘of vision
and listened with all his ears.

The voice of each man was recognizable.

There were Hardy and Tovey, the latest ar-
rivals, Buckholtz, Jud Dairymple (whose name
is now mentioned for the first time and who was
the driver of the carriage that brought Glad 3
Linden to Oak Hall), Aaron Buckhollz and 0
who was known there as Warren Carew. twin
brother of the President of the,Asheville Bank. _

What was singular was that this man who
was most under the influence of the wine an
hour before, was now by long odds the, soberest
of the party.

“ He must have swallowed a strong decoction
of coffee, or something of that nature,” wasthe
conclusion of the listening detective, who was
quick to discover the interesting fact.

“ You’d better stay all night.” said Buckholtz,
addressing Warren Carew. “for it is a long-
ride. and you’re d nk.”

“ I admit that was a little elevated awhile
ago,” replied the gentleman, with a slight un-
steadlness, in his voice, “ but I have braced up
a good deal since.” ,

“ Do you Suppose your brother Tudor will be
anxious to see on asked Buckholiz, steady.
ing himself ega nst the hanister. .

“Yes; I promised himto be there to-night".

without fail: we have some business of the ut-
most importance; I declare.” added C‘arow,
glancing athis watch, “I‘m due this minute.

Jud. will you be kind enough to bring out my
horse?" , _ '

\

 

 

val‘zufia‘a—i..nar

I...
« -.\

 

l
.,
ii

_. .. ,7...7.....

    
   

 

      
     
    
    
    
    
    
 

     
  

   

I 1
 «A: ~:Wyiw.- ~myng’ _v. ...- ,— .4. . _,._. ,
< v A . . ,

 

vie-’éw“,“' ‘5“ -_-u-‘»: - .  r. ‘.v_

 

r

Zigzag and. Catt, the

v (“I ‘ .3,

nvincible Detec

  

., . . ...

ives'.

 

3‘” ‘,-.“V\ J "

4193.,

 

 

“ Think you’rc making a great mistake—a
great mistake,” mumbled Jud Dalrymple,
strai htening up, “ but, it you’re sot on going,
wh s’pose you’ll go.”

With that, the man appealed to, opened the
door and passcd out.

" Boys,” said Warren Curew, the next mo—
ment, "this must be the wind-u .”

“ Th wind-up of what?” asked Matt Hardy.

“ The champagne business. if I had one in-
to the room of my niece awhile ago, _ would
have made a fool of my elt. As it is now, my
held swims so thatI would not dare to meet
her. It’s all well enough to hold .. little jolliii-
cation over our success but you know we shall
need our wits for some time to come."

” You’re right, old man.” rcmarkcd Jack
Tovey; “ our heads will be a little swelled in
the morning, but we Will be all right. and we
must keep so until we‘re out of the woods.” I

“ When shall we see you again?" asked Buck-
holtz, as their visitor began drawing on his
gloves.

" Probably, not before a couple of days,
though, if I can, I shall be here to-morrow
night. You know what important business I
have on hand, and that must be attended to.”

“What about Miss Linden?”

“She will kecp,"~ was the course reply; “I
promised to make a call on her to—morrow, but I
will have to leave the business in your hands,
Buck. You‘ll explain that I am too ill to do
myself the honor, which I have no doubt will be
better done by yourself. Besides.” added the
old gentleman, significantly, “it will give you a
chance to make a. point or two.” .

At this juncture, Jud Dalrym 1e opencd the
door and informed Carew that is horse was
saddled and waiting. The visitor bade them all
good-night and passed out. mounted his animal,
and. rode down the lane at a. walk toward the
highway.

Emerging from the dense glorim which envel-
oped this pnrt of his path, into the moonlit road,
he struck his horse into a smart gallop, which
was continued until he reached the residence of
Tudor Carew.

A bright light was still burning in the upper
front room, showing that the old gentleman was
expected. ‘

The ride through the brisk autumn air clari-
fied his brain, sothat he was entirely himself
when he arrived in the small hours of the morn-
mg.

'Riding straight to the stable, he put away his
horse, and shortly after let himself into the
lhOUSE‘, where. for a brief while; we must leave
him to himself and friends. '

Since the revelers had given their promise to
bring their car’ousal to an end that evening,
appreciating as they did, Men in their maudlin
condition, the necessity of doin so, they con-
cluded they might as well ma 6 a night of
it land secure all the so-called enjoyment pos-
si 9.

So they went back to their room, and once
more as may be said, Zigzag was left monarch
of all be surveyed.

It was fortunate. no doubt, that the men were
in this shameless state, for otherwise it is incon-
ceivable how even so skillful and darin an
officer could have made the tour throng the
building without discovery.

The party had received siiflicient warning that
the eyes of the officers of the law were upon
them, and they 'ought in self-defense to have kept
cool, clear and level heads.

It was Jud Dalrymple who saw the signal of
Ben Jones, the farmer, with his lantern, and
whoanswered it. That Signal to Oak Hall said
that suspicious characters were near, and warned
them to be on their guard. .

Dalrymple was returning from a Visit to the
stables when he caught the signal and he knew
that his duty was to apprise is friends of the
discovery; but he had more weakness for strong
drink than any of them, and he was fearful that
the result wculd be a postponement of the cham-
pagne that had been agreed upon. So he kept
the im ortant secret to himself.

As or Hardy and Tovev, theyhad arrest]
before their arrival at Oak Hall to say nothing
about their meeting with Zigzag and is com-
rade while on their way thither.

They naturallyoshrunk from telling about an
encounter in wh b they would he forced to ad-
mit they were worsted. They meant to give all
possible 'aid, to their friends in the fight with the

llaw, but they could not see that a failure to re-
port the incident described could make any
t difl'erouce either way.

. As for Zigzag, it cannot be said that he was
satisfied with what he had accomplished.

That he performed a brilliant exploit cannot
be questioned but he failed to obtain some
very important information that he was desirous
of securing. .

He no longer doubted that the men whom he
had seen and to whose utterances he had listened
were the ones that had nabbed the Asheville
Bank and had abducted Gladys Linden;

But where was the “ boodle?"

'He had not been chic to gain the first claw
to its whereabouts. Whether it' was in Oak
Halloralmndred miles away was a question
dill awaiting solution by him. '

' had pushed nature to the utmmst.

 

Not a single utterance that he had heard indi-
cated where it had gone. '

The expressions below stairs told him that
the gang believed that Gladys Linden was in her
apartments.

It was possible that she was still concealed
somewhere in the building, but he suspected the
truth—that she had slipped out and was gone—
but whither?

A y, whither?

Should the detective stay any longer in Oak
Hull, \‘ ith a View of picking up information?

HF had already been away for a long time
from his friends and they might become so an-
easy that they would take steps to trace his
whereabouts.

Convinced as ho was that the only occupants
of the house were the men that have been named,
he feared the result of any such attempt on the
part of one so careful even as Cutt Whitney,
when he was handicapped by the presence of
such an impetuous lover as Fred Melville.

Jud Dali'ymple, of whom mention has been
made as the driver of the carriage which took
Gladys Linden from her home. besides being a
full member of the gang that was concerned in
so many unlawful deeds, was the one specially
fitted by his attainments to act the part of a
servant. , ‘

It was he who looked after the horses and
vehicles, who did the cooking, for it was true as
stated by Ben Jones, that there were no female
members of the Oak Hall household, Jud acting
as the general man of all work.

He, like the rest, was an old acquaintance of
Zigzag, who knew him as a coward] sneak,
capable of doing ,anything required 0 him by
h is masters.

Zigzag liud enunciated the doctrine that no
detective should enter upon any task with a.
theory of his own, since it was almost certain to
warp the action of his mind. All the same,
however, such theories of necessity would shape
themselve as the investigation proceeded.

It was his belief, founded upon what he had
seen and heard since being inside of Oak Hall,
that the two hundred thOUsand dollars ab-
stracted from the funds of the Asheville bank
were not in the building. '

He believed the were in the city of New
York, and he hel a strong suspicion of the
hotel in which they were waiting for the favor-
able chance for an equitable division of them.

Fully aware also of the liability to err in
this direction, he was determined, nevertheless,
to seize the first chance to so to the metropolis
and push a little exploration of his own along a
line independent of all other investigators that
might feel disposed to take a hand in the same
delicate and difficult business. '

CHAPTER XXV.

A DISCOVERY. ,

As Zigzag anticipated, after leaving the

building, he found Cutt Whitne and Fred
Melville impatient at his prolong absence.

in.

Indeed the younger man had urged the other ,
more than once to Venture closer to the building '

cold to undertake some investigations for them.-
69 ves.

They had seen the elderly gentleman come out
and ride away, and. from the glimpse which
they caught of him. they w'ere convinced that it
was Tudor Carew, who struck his horse into a
swinging gallop upon reaching the highway.

Zigzag gava a. hurried account of his later-
csting ex rience after separating from them.

In telling the story he took care to make no
reference to his visit to the apartments of
Gladys Linden. ‘

Had her lover known that she had beenend

ssibly still was in Oak Hall, he could not

ave been restrained from forcing his way into
the house andas may be said, ‘bedrding 'the lion,
in his den. ‘ '

Had he been told that she was there some time
before. but was now gone, he would have start-
ed on a wild hunt that might have brought
about a fatal complication of matters.

the narrator reserved his full account for
the ears of Cutt Whitney alone.

“ We are through for the present,“ he added.
“and now we will start on our long tramp
homeward.” -

Fred was disap rated. but he saw there was
no help for it. an they set out on their return.

It was not far from morning when they ar-
rived ln Ashevillo and it need not be said that
the party were well used up. ,

This was especially the case with young Mel-
ville. who had been on the go for so long and
was deprivad of all sleep for two nights.

Vigorous and rugged as he naturally w be
And on. w on
he flung himself upon his downy bed, under hi.
own roof, he sunk into a slumber which lasted
until the follOwing afternoon.

And this was precisely what Zigzag and White
nay wished, for it eliminated him from the prob-
lem at a most critical stage. Much as they liked
him. they preferred to pursue their labors with-
out his help. if such it me be termed.“ '

After bidding him gm -night on reaching the
town; the- two officers continued their way to-
ward the hotel, holding some earnest ' conversa-
tion on the road. 7 ' '

I

 

= niit that I had my suspiL-ions of him, but they

less, the same band which made the figures in

   
  
   
  
    
  
 
   
  
  
    
   
   
  
   
   
 
    
  
 
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
     
    
  
    
 
  
  
    
    
    
   
   

Whitney abruptlydasked the question:

“ Do you believe elville had anything to do
with the robbery of the bank?”

" Impossible 1’

“ What about the cipher?"

“Don’t you see that if he was the author of‘
that, as seems to be the case, judging from wha‘. .
you tell me, you place him in thcubsurd pOSIthD \‘ -'
of cons iring to abduct Gladys Linden for whom. _ . ',
he won (1 be happy to sacrifice his lilcl” ‘
' “ But the figures in the bunk ledger."

“No matter. what,” impatiently interrupted
Zigzag; “ the ridiciilousnrss of what I tell you,
renders the question bcnenth discussion. 1 ad-

were only general and formed oil-hand.”
“ I am anxious to believe as you do; neverthe-

the ci her made those in the ledger of the Ashe-
villo ank.”

“ What part of the book did you examine?"

“ The first page."

“Only that?" .

“That was all."

“Go back tomorrow and compare several
more pages. Find out who formed the figuresou ' ,
the first page of the ledger and don’t be so quirk.
iii lumping to conclusions.” _

'lhe two men were tired from their long .
trump, and perhaps from that cause. the great;
Zigzag was more impatient than usual.

‘ For the reason, too, that Cutt Whitney knew
this reproof was deserved. hc was out of sorts.

A few words only passed between them. and,
being admitted by the dozing watchman, the ' I.
were glad to seek their beds and enjoy the r r
much-needed rest. . '

Both men were accustomed to iri‘cgularhoum‘
and neither slept as long as mould be sag-posed.

It was comparatively early when Whitney . _, ,
rose from his bed, and, dressing himself, went. 1
down to breakfast. Seeing nothing of his friend,
he decided to let him slumber awhile longer.

After the morning meal, however. he went to
his room and was not a little astonished to find
it empty.

Zigzag had left for some unknown destiny»
tion.

Hoping to find him below stairs, Cutt inquired ‘-
in a (usual we of the clerk concerning their
entertaining friend. Uncle Pcleg.

“ He left on the early train,” replied the clerk, i
with a smile. . i

“ For what place?" asked Whitney, hiding his
curimity. ' 

“ Gone back to New Hampshire; he and he i
was so ‘consarned sick’ of Asheville that he“
wouldn’t spend another day here.” ‘

“ Is be coming back?"

“ I don’t believe we will see him again; of
queer fellow that.” i ~

“ Yes; he was so extremely verdant that I
became quite interested in him.” . '

" He had but a few minutes in which to catch 1
the train, but he wouldn’t leave untilil threw ,
twenty-five cents of! his bill, after which 119 T
counted over his money, and ex reused his fear
that he wouldn't have enough oft to pay his
exoenses home." ' -

It was needless to inquire further, but Catt '
Whitney did not feel particularly comfortable
over the course of Zigzag. i

True, be freely acknowledged that he was him
superior, but be thoght it shabby» treatment,
that he should have t on his departure in that}
abrupt manner; without so much assaying good.- .

 

       
 
 
   
   
  
  
   
   
 
 

y. »
But that was his way, and it was idle to calm"

plain. ,
Besides, it was uncertain where Zigzag had-
one. He had spoken of' making a journey to -
aw York and possibly had gone thither. , ‘
“But it “as by no means sure that he bodleft ~
Asheville, though no person besides Catt Whit-_
1 of was liable to doubt it. ' ‘
t was certain that ho had sought to give
impression. but it would not have been stun
had be. after buying a ticket to New York, 3 , -
off at the first station and returned. .
Had he done this he would not have come;
back as Uncle Pelcg White of New Hampshirefi
but in an entirely different make-up. From the:
capricious carpet-bag he would have drawn 
outfit of semi other character, and in making.
the change it would seemingly be a ‘completor‘
transformation of hiaown natural self. ‘
There could he no saying in u but discuiie the,
master detective would enter ASbfVllll‘, for M‘
had half a dozen did’erent impersonations iht
were favorites. But it was safe to believe that
whichever he assumed would be so perfect in Ill
way that it would tolseal! the penetration otfi
Cutt Whitney himself to read it. _ '
After maki his inquiries, Whitney lit.
cigar and seat ’hlmoeli ii. on: bf the chairs as
the bar-room. » I
A number Oi lounge” were present. even a;
that comparatively early hour. and the‘dotoo-é
tlve had taken only a few 11!: at hicni
when his ac uaintnnce of t a night he!
Farmer Benz ones. walked in.
To have seen those two meet and Inbound“
a stranger would have supposed they ..
long-separated brothers instead of arch >

ocrites. ~.
“My journey didn‘t amount to anything.

    
  
     
    
 

    
       
 
  

  
  
    
 
 

    
    
   

    
   
   
   
   
   
   
         
  

 
 

 
         
 
 

  

        
     
  
 

  

2'0

Zigzag and cum, .1... invincible Detects... '

 

said Cutt Whitney, in answer to the inquiries of
v the farmer; “there seemed to be a number of
rsons there, but I couldn’t learn anything and
“Jr came back.”
‘ “ 'Wh didn’t you knock at the door and make
. yoursel known.’ .

Whitney shook his'head With a laugh.

“ None of that for me; I might have got a
pistol~shot or a cracked pate.”

“ You had a long walk back.”

“ So I did, and all the way I thought of the
nice comfortable bed in your house to which you
invited me; but I was so worn out that I had a
good sleep when I did reach the hotel; I haven’t
been up long; you see you told me so much
about the house that I felt rather crawly when I
found myself near it.”

“ That’s the way it hits me,” was the unblush-
ing response of Ben, “ when I git too near the
plaguey 5 ct; so I contrive to give it a pretty
wide bert .”

“ Don’t you ever visit it?"

~~ “ Never."

 “ Well, I can’t say that I blame you."

. “If you want to take a. look at it by daytime,

’ I’ll give you a ride out ag’in; my team is out in
the shed and I’ll be drivin’ back arter dinner.”

r “ No; I thank you. I’m afraid it has all been
;, I lost time, and my coming out here is a
'* blunder.” .

3 " Why so?” asked Ben with no effort to con—
‘< oeal his curiosity.

“ Well, I had a little private business that I
didn’t mention to you, which brought me to
Asheville, but I’m satisfied now that I was off
the track altogether.”

Cutt Whitney was hopeful that he was mis—
leading the innocent—looking farmer.

Perhaps he was. Perhaps again he wasn’t; the
near future would decide.

A task in which Whitney felt a strong personal
interest was before him.

Not doubting that the officers were at work in
the bank, he made his way thither, avoiding at-
tention so far as he could.

In reply to the inquiries of Mr. Hyneman, he
said that he thought that there was an excellent
prospect of running the burgla to earth, and
of recovering a portion if not al of the funds.

Of course it would be premature to speak at
that early stage of the roceedings, but he would
not fail to keep Mr. yneman and Mr. Carew
apprised of the progress of their investigations.

he cashier stated that the president was so

much better that morning that be had started
,on one of his occasional trips to Boston. He was
engaged on important private business and ex-
‘ pected to be back within two or three days at
the most.

“I shouldn’t wonder," thought Whitney, “if
Uncle Peleg stops over in Boston on his way to
New Ham shire.”

Finally e said he would' be obliged for an-
~ other glance at the bank ledger.

. The cashier was always, glad to accommodate

.him andplaced the book on the desk before him.

Five minutes were enough; Zigzag was right.
'Fred Melville did not make the figures in the
. cipher writing.

But who did?‘

CHAPTER XXVI.

 m rssxnn’s.
. .ON the second evening succeeding the rob-
he of'the Asheville Bank, a lively party were
gat ered in the fashionable gambling-saloon, of
Phosh Parker, in one of the most select portions

of the great metropolis of our country. '
r ' We have-no purpose to describe 1: at gilded
gateway to des ruction, where so many entered
upon the broad road from which there seemed
no more hope of retreat than there is for the
confirmed victim of the opium habit. Nor is
there any desire on our part todepict any of the
numerous games of chance continually played
there, which have such a fatal fascination for
so man of the brightest and best of the land.
But t are were several individuals in Parker's
on the Saturday night to which we refer whose
ctions concern the tread of the incidents we
have set out to narrate. /
“' One of the leadinglfrequenters of Parker’s fer
,ears was Asaph As man. , Although past mid-
~dle life, he had been known for allong time as
no of the gayest habitues, who was not afraid
, to is ad money, and who_ emphatically lived up
"to t e doctrine of “ following the leader,” when-

'r evera party of congenial spirits met with him.

lilo-had been known to win ten thousand, and
to lose twenty thousand dollars in a single
ight; Some of his harum-scarum adventures
 ere the talk of the clubs, and more than once
, ad landed him in the police-station. But they
ended there, for Ash was one of the many
"‘ bloods " who had enough influence to keep his
name out of the papers. and to escape always
with nothing more than the imposition of a fine.
We have said enough to indicate pretty clear-
;Iy the character of Asaph Ashman, who was
wanted in the rear apartment of Parker’s
:.saloon on the Saturday evening named, indulg-
is int!» quiet game of poker with a couple of
.frfends. The soft Axminster carpets gave back
am sound. when the heavy foot pressed them; the
colored waiters were arrayed in spotless suits,
“the walls were adorned with the most exquisite

., .

 
  
    
  
   
   
  
    
    
    
  
   
   
 
 
    
      
         
    
    
      
     
      
   
   
  
    

   

  

     
 

  

   
   
 

 
 

   

   
  
 

   
  
  
 
     
 

 
  

 
    
       
     
    
     
   
    
      
       
        
     
   
     

 

  

 

  

   

  

  

  
  

  

-M?‘nday night.”

 

paintings, and here and there were figures of
statuary that would have been a fortune to
many of the crazed victims of play who rushed
from the dazzling den to seek oblivion in the icy
waters of the Hudson.

We must introduce the three gentlemen who
are sitting apart by themselves, deep in the en-
joyment of .the game, accom anied as it is by
the finest wine and choicest avanas from the
favored district of tropical Cuba.

Asliman, as we have stated, was beyond mid-
dle life, but he was attired as faultlessly as
though he was still a gay youth of twenty five.
His hair was carefully brushed, and among its
dark. auburn locks could not be traced the first
thread of silver. (That, however, was due to
art instead of nature).

A casual glance would have pronounced him
a well-preserved man of thin: or thereabouts,
buta closer inspection told a ifferent tale, for
no art could conceal the crows’ feet around the
eyes, nor hide the ravages of time as shown in
the general weakness of the frame, despite the
fierce effort oi the owner to appear'and act like
one of half his years. .

The gentleman most familiar with Asaph Ash—
man was Aaron Buckhollz, of whom almost
sufficient has already been said. He was one of
the parties concerned in the bank burglary, and
was last seen by us on the evening before, when
he parted company with Mr. Warren Carew at
the door of the gloomy old building known as
Oak Hall.

The third party was a man approaching mid-
dle life, known as Conrad Appletonl’and the
representative of the well-known jewelry firm
of Everingham & Company, Maiden Lane.
There seemed to be good reason to believe he
was well supplied with funds, and it was imma-
terial whether it came direct from the safe of
his employers or constituted a portion of his
legitimate salary; all was fish that came to the
net of the fishers at Parker’s.

As the hours advanced, Appleton showed the
effects of, the wine which he sipped more than
did the others. Still he was a skillful and at
times an unusually fortunate player. While he
lost heavily, his winnings were more weight ,
and when midnight came, he was unmistakab
ahead to the extent of several thousand do —
ars. . v

To Ashman and Buckholtz it was simply blind
luck that helped the stupid fellow to rake in so
much of the stakes, and more than once. observ-
ing ,his half-maudlin condition, they expressed
their impatience. occasional] indulging in re-
marks which, to say the east, were impru-

dent. .

“If his luck keeps on,” said Buckholtz, “it
won’t do for us to stay in the game."

“Why not?” asked Ashman, in a low voice.

“ You know how it affects you, Ash;‘ you’re
likely to lose your head.”

“ Not I;' I’ve been there too often.”

“But the divvy ought to be made first; I’ll
neverconsent to touch any of the funds of the
the others.” ‘ ' ,

Appleton appeared altogether oblivious to
these observations, which were made in a jerky,
broken wfineoften with considerable space be-
tween the ' ct questions and answers.

The representative of the house of Evering-
ham & Company experienced a serious turn of
luck at this djuncture.
judgment an to the delight of the others who, he
did not seem to suspect. were pitted against him,
he lost a couple of thousands so quick] that
their spirits were elevated to as great a egree
gs they had been depressed a few minutes be-
ore.

Still, with the infatuation of a man in his
situation, the traveler continued playing in his
blind, reckless fashion, losin large amounts,
until it was, quite ev1dent t at his winnings
and his losses, at the best, were no more than
even.

“I use: I’ve had enough,” he suddenly ex-
claim , at the conclusion of a game in which he
had a sin lost. '

“Its no time to stop now, my friend,” aid,

Ashman. “ It is just becoming interesting.”

“That’s so.” replied Appleton, unsteadily:
“ but I ain’t jes’ in the ’dition—you can see that
yourselves.” V
t “ml3ahl You’re all right. What’s the mat-
er. '
“Yes—all right for you; but I’ll wait till
Monday night—then’llpome bound and have it
out with yer—yesb'll have it out with yer—-
sure’s a gun.”

Ashman and Buckholtz exchanged significant
glances, and the latter said:

“I have an engagement, and can’t be here

rave I,” Asbmsn added. “ Try another
heigd, and then. if you want to quit, why, do
so .

But with the stubbornness which a half-intox-
icated man often shows, A pleton shoved back
his chair, with a mnttere exclamation, and,
sinking his head on his chest, relapsed into heavy

slumber, as it seemed.

The couple surveyed him with disgust. Then,
as they had no object in plavinz against each
other, they too laid, down ir hands, took a
sip of wine, and, fighting fresh cigars, enchanged

He seemed to lose his 

 

a few remarks intended for their own ears
alone.

“None of the boys will be down tic-night?”
remarked Buckholtz, impuiringly.

“ No, none of ’em at al .”

“They may come in to-morrow.”

“ They can’t do that; no trains run from
Asheville on Sunday."

“bl thought the divvy was to be made here to-
nig t.

"That was the idea, but we’ll have to make it

‘ at Oak Hall.”

H Why?” I

“ Those infernal detectives; there’s two, and
Zigzag is one of ’em; I didn’t dare bring the
stuff with me, because I knew he was on the
watch somewhere. I don’t see why I should
take all the risk anyway,” added Ashnian, half~
angrily.

“ Nobody asked you to,” replied Buckholtz, as
illahumoredly as the other; “ it was your own
pi‘oposition.’

“I know; I didn’t suppose they would have
the flies in Asheville so soon. I saw them on the
watch at Jersey City when I got out at the sta-
tion. and I’ve no doubt they followed me.”

“ Are you sure you threw them off?”

“ Depend on me for that ” said the other. with
some pride of manner. “ ’ve doubled on them
before, and when you find a detective that can
run me down, I‘ll reSign and climb a tree.”

“I hope there hasn’t been any blunder,” ob-
served Buckholtz, like one who wished rather
than felt sure that such was the fact: “ We made
a good haul, but as was said at Oak Hall last
night, we ain’t out of the woods yet.”

“ When did you leave?”

“About noon.”

“ Did you see or hear anything?”

“ Not a thing— Ah! but,I forgot one thing.
Miss Gladys Linden has left Oak Hall!”

Ash Ashman uttered a frightful execration,
and nearly tumbled backward out of his chair,
gasping:

“ What’s that 3’”

“ It’s the solemn truth.” ‘

“ How did it happen?”

“ When Warren Carew made his call upon
her, he forgot to fasten the door behind him: of
course she then walked out of the room, down
stairs and left by the front door.”

“ That’s a lie! Carew locked the door.”

“Then Miss Linden must have had a key
which fitted the lock.”

“ Are you sure she is gone?" asked Ashman,
fairly green With anger and consternation. ‘

“There’s no ,esrthlv doubt about it; Gladys
Linden is not in Oak all.”

“ Did you search the house?”

“ From top to bottom.”

“ But the passageway—”

“ She knows nothing about that, but we didn’t
feiiget to explore it.” '

he conspirators in their excitement forgot all
about Mr. Conrad Appleton, who was sleeping
so heavily in his chair. Had they noticed him
carefulliy, they would have seen that one eye
was wi er open than usual, his breathing was
more quiet and something like a 'n was
twitgfiing around the corners of his, we l-formed
mou .

Having tormented Ashman enough. Buckholtz
now followed With an announcement scarcely
less startling than the one made a few minutes
before. . ,

“ It is true that the young lady is not in Oak
Hall, but she/is just as much in Our power as if
she was locked in there; in fact she’s safe I”

“ Buck, don’t trifle with me; this is too serious
a matter.”

“ I’m concerned about as much as you, and
I’m telling you. the honest truth when I say that
she is as safe and just as much in our power as
she was when locked in her iron-barred room.”
be; l’llnbelieve that when you explain, and not

ore.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
DISINTANGLING THE exam.
.THEREUPON Aaron 'Buckholtz gave the ex-
planation, in a few brief sentences while Ash~

man listened with bated breath. . .

Appleton, leanin forward in his chair, with
his c in upon his reset, and apparently sleep-
ihng profoundly, did not allow a word to escape

im.

He could hardly repress an exultant exclama-
tion, for there was a deeper meaning to the
words which fell upon ‘his ears than' any one
else dreamed of. .

ou see,” added Buckholtz with a chuckle
“thatit’s just as well as if we had her back

again in Oak Hall.” ‘ .

“ I don’t know about that,” replied Ashman
who, nevertaeiess was vastly relieved by the
story which had st been told; 'ank Hallie
built for that kin of business.”

“ That may be, but the detectives havegot
their eyes on it, and if they should choose to

make a raid, it would be a little awkward to ‘
find Miss Gladys spending her vacation in that ‘

room up—stairs, with the door locked andiron
bars across the windows. They’ll never think
of looking for her where she is now.” " '

“ I hope not.” ' ‘

At that instant, the snofing'Appleton m, .

 

 

< I’m.

 

 

 

I: 6::- ~. .. --

- 4.. {1.1 15‘. as x

 

,s»

~:r = 3-; age»...m«:

i. V

 

,-  ‘  -

5. .A"\u)'l>_.<' <,

w , as; an

 

  
   
   

Zigzag and Cutt,

s. .~ ,3

the Invincible Detectives.

 

v',iy,~vi-‘- .,_. ~ I.

21"

 

lurch forward, falling out of his chair upon his
hands and knees.

One of the ever watchful attendants ran for-
ward and kindly helped him to his feet.

“ That’s all right hit-.1)” he muttered, getting
his hat on wrong si 6 before. Then facing un—
steadily about, he blinked at the two men
with whom he had been playing earlier in the
evening and managed to grumble:

“Meet me here by moonlight alone—Monday
evenin , shay?” .

“ Ma e it Tuesday,” said Ashman smartly,
“ Tuesday at nine o’clock sharp.” .

“ ’8 all right—make her Choosday—thirteen-
and-a-half clock—be here sure—good—night—E
pluribus unum go braghl”

And, helped by the same_ servant that had
been so attentive to him, the tipsy fellow reached
the bracing night-air outside. The attendant
wished to call a cab, but Mr. Appleton flared
up, saying that if he meant to insinuate that he
was laboring under the influence of liquor he
would shoot him on the spot, though uncertain
which would be the best spot.

Somehow or other the poor fellow managed to
stagger along without falling down, though
some of his lui‘ches seemed certain to end with
his pitching prostrate in the gutter. _

“ Say, old chap, you’re slightly under the in-
fluence,” called a. large, burly stranger, stopping
short in front of him; “ it’ll be a charitable
thin for me to give you a lift. I’m a dandy at
playing'the good Samaritan.” .

He slipped his arm within that of the reeling
Appleton, and then reached for the gold .watch
and chain, intending to follow up that With the
capture of his ocketbook.

Before the Eandsome chronometer could be
coaxed from its receptacle,-the left‘hand of the
traveler shot out straight from the shoulder
with the fierce energy of a mule’s hind—foot.

The iron fist landed squarely bet-ween the eyes
of the scoundrel, who caught a glimpse of a fir-
mament of stars as he went over on his back in
the gutter, with his toes pointing toward the
zenith. '

" There!” exclaimed the indignant Appleton.
“ that’lllie a lesson when you next undertake to
go through a drunken man.”

And the athletic representative of the house
of Everingham & Company walked down the
street with as brisk and uprighta step as a West
Point cadet.

“ I wonder whether that scamp was more sur-
prised than Mr. Asaph Ashman and Aaron Buck-
holtz would be if the had known that the tips
victim they got he (1 of tonight was U'ncp
Peleg White, whom Hardy and Tovey had their
tussle with, on the Beavertown road last night.”

Zigza , the famous detective, chuckled, and
he was ully warranted in d‘omg so. He had se-
cured some valuable knowledge.

Having doflled the character of Uncle Peleg,
the verdant farmer from New Hampshire, he
had donned that of the eminently respectable
representative of a well-known and wealthy Jew-
elry firm on Maiden Lane. Then he ingratiated
himself into the favor of the two criminals,
whom he was shadowin and from whom he
was so desirous of acquiring some information.

It was a daring act on the part even of so
skillful a detective as Buckholtz, and no severer
test of his ability could be attempted. The end,
however, justified the means. for its success
could not have been more brilliant.

“ There are certain times,” thought the of-
ficer, as he made his way homeward in the early
hours of the Sabbath morning, “ when the wisest
men become fools. If you will only let a crim-
inal have the chance, he will give himself dead
away. You may have to wait, and he may un-
bosom to some one else besiide you, but he is
bound to do it, all the same, sooner or later.
Mr. Ashman and Buckholtz were a little'more
previous than I expected. It was all owmg to
the way the little game of poker went, which is
what I played it for. _

“ Asaph Ashman,” repeated the detective,
half wonderingly, “is the one that was called
‘ Ash,’ when that little affair took place at the
Asheville Bank. Buckholtz was the one who
tried to play the part of Fred Melville, but over-
did the business by allowing himself tube called
by that name twice, instea of once, as was the
case with Mr. Ashman. _ .

“ Ashman, Ashman,”'repeated the detective, as
if in obedience toa bewildered, wonderin frame
of mind which rarely seized him; “ w on lwe
come to get that two hundred thousand dollars
——that is if we do—and recover Miss den—if
we do—it will turn the little town 0 Ashville
upside down, but, if I. ain’t mistaken, there’s
another explosion coming behind that which
will knock everything else into .smithereens and
give the whole country a sensation.”

Zigzag had been concerned in many startling

affairs, but he felt that the present one in some
respects was the most unique of them all.
To him it seemed that all the threads for
which he had been groping so long were drop-
ing one by one into his hands. and that he had
but to wait a short time when the whole
‘ skein would he disentangled; wrong would
be crushed and justice would prevail. _
But none could know better than he the strik-
ing truth of the homely declaration that the

 

best-laid lans often 0 wrong and that there’s
many a 3 ip between e cup and lip.

He was as sure of one t ing as a mortal can
be sure of that which has not yet come to pass—
i. e.—that the division of t e lunder taken
from the vaults of the Asheville nk would be
made at Oak Hall on the coming Monday

ni ht.

The ori' inul intention was to complete the
crime at t e Astor House in New York, but the
scheme was defeated by a difllculty which few
Eersons would suspect and which at the first

lush seems trifling.

The burglars who were all adepts in their pro-
fession learned that at least two officers of the
law arrived in Asheville earl on Friday
morning, sooner than they antici fed, and,
helped by a perverse fate, they foun there was
reason to fix suspicion on Oak Hall.

The funds immediately after being stolen,
were hidden in a convenient spot—whose location
Zigzag could not suspect—there to await the ,
proper time for them to be taken to New York
City near which ' the gang meant to gather and
divide the “ boodle.”

That such was not their intention. or that cir—
cumstances might lead them to change their
mind, was among the possibilities, but the most
sagacious detective that ever lived must take his
chances, and, having formed his conclusion, he
has no choice left but to act upon it, and leave
the results with Providence.

Now, two hundred thousand dollars, composed
of greenbacks and gold, must of necessity con—
stitute a large package, that is when most of
the bills are of a moderate denomination, as was
the case with the plunder taken from the vaults
of the Asheville Bank. It might hav been easily
carried in a strong valiso, but c tain as tho
burglars were. thnt they could not get away
from the town without running the gantlct of
the officers, Asapli Asliuinn was only simply
prudent when he declined to take the risk.

The funds could be carried to Oak Hall after
dark, and there divided, for each man was eager
to get his share. There were five persons who
were entitled to portions of the plunder, and the
reduction in the size of each package by four-
flfths would practically remove all danger in
getting away unobserved with it, since it could
be carried about the person so as to‘ attract no
attention. I v .

It was, therefore, a wise decision to follow
this course, though there were one or two mem-
bers of the gang that would not have hesitated
to take the entire risk of carrying the whole
Emile to the designated room in the New York

ote . ‘ '

in the latter case, however, the leaders, and
especially Ashman himself, were unwilling to
trust those parties with the entire amount; it
would be too reat a strain upon their honesty.

Reasoning rom this standpoint, Zigzag was
warranted in believing that the crisis in the
business had been shifted forward, like the hand
of a clock, to the following Monday night.

What, therefore, did the sagacious detective

do?

_ 6 went to his city quarters, rolled himself u
in bed and never opened his eyes until the £0 -.
lowing afternoon.

When he awoke, he ate a substantial meal,
aook a walk and felt as fresh as the morning'

ew. ‘

In the evening, still preserving hi character
of the traveling representative of Everingham'
%'00?pflny, he made certain familiar rounds of
t eci . '

The yresult was satisfactory He found that
Ashman 8i: Buckholtz were enjoying themselves
to their fullest bent, in accordance with their
own ideas of what constitutes the highest kind
of recreation.

We need not enter into particulars. Suffice it
to say that the tour of these two individuals in-
cluded everything that was base, vile, de raded
and shocking to ama'n with an re ard or de-
cency. The fact that Ashnian he leader was a
married man seemed to act rather as an incen-
tive than as a check to his bacchanalian revelrv,
which was wild enough to sap the health of the‘
most vigorous person who ever indulged in the
maddest kind of dissipation.

At a late hour the" two were helped to their
couches, where they slept the sleep of the fool,
until long after the sun had risen, when they
awoke with splitting heads, racking brains and
afevered c’ondition of blood which is the well
deserved retribution that nature demands from
those who violate so flagrantly her laws. ~

Could this punishment recede the so called
enjoyment would any sens hle person ever stray
from the cool, delightful walk of rectitude and
health?”

We trow not. - .

It was late on Monday afternoon, that Ash-
man and Buckholtz still weak, trembling and
only half recovered from their spree, took
the cars for Asheville.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION.
Wm Saturday evening settled down on the
little town of Asheville. Cutt Whitney had
reached several important conclusiops.

 

 

The first of these was that his superior Zigzag

/

  
    
   
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
    
   
 
 
   
    
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  

had not only left the place but had not returned.
Whither he had gone could on] be conjectured,
but he believed it was to ew~York City, a.
belief, which, as the reader knows, was cor-
rect. '-

Furthermore, Tudor Carew, president of the
bank, was also absent ostensib y on a visit to,
Boston. But wherever he had gone, Cutr was
confident he was under the survaillance of Zig—

za .

€Vhltney, however did not learn of the de-
parture of Buckho t2, that worthy havmg
managed, without any effort on his part, to
leavo unnoticed on the train.

But the vigilant officer saw the two return on
Monday afternoon, and he was confident that
Zigzag would soon appear in the town. 'Of’
course, it would be in a guise that would deceive
every one, excepting possibly the officer who
was so anxiously lookin for him. . .

As the surest means 0 meetin Zigzag, Whit-
ney lit a cigar and seated himsel in the ofilce of
me hotel, where, without appearing to do so, he
could scan every person that entered.

A surprise awaited him.

He had not been seated ten minutes, when a
boy hurriedly entered and said something in a
low tone to the clerk. The latter pointed with
his en to Whitney who was watching the
coup e. The youngster looked around a moment,
and then walked over to the officer.

“ Are you Mr. Whitney l” he asked.

“ Yes, sir.”

Without saying an thing more, the lad hand~
ed him a sealed enve ope, which being opened,
disclosed the following:

“ MONDAY AFTERNOON.
“ My DEAR VVHlTNl'Yt——
‘ ‘ Ca ll at my house at Once.
highest llll]l()l'f£u.ce.

“ I‘ll be there right away,” remarked VVbit—‘
ney to the waiting messenger, who turned on his

I have news of the
T. Caacw.“

ee .
“ What the mischief can that mean i" mut-
tered the detective, who went to the wash-room,
and tidied himself up before going to the house
of the wealthy banker: “ why under the sun
d0esn‘t Zigzag show up?" he added, scrutinizing
each person in turn who was in sight with the ’
conViction that the one whom he so longed to
see had not arrived: “ I Would like to have his,
counsel and help, but it won’t do to wait.”

A few minutes latei‘ he was admitted to the
house of Tudor Carew, v ho was sitting in his
chair, in the familiar" front room up-stairs, ,.
looking as; though the hasty trip that he had f
taken to Boston had been an injury rather than
a benefit to him.

He seemed right glad to meet his visitor. an
apologizing for not rising from the chair, shoo
him warmlty by the hand.  ,_

“ I am a rai your journey to Boston has been , -,.
3. Severe tax uplon your strength,” remarked the 3-»
caller, sympet etically. . ’ , ’ ‘

“ es, I ought not to have gone, but, after all, ,
it isn’t that which has broken maup.” -
h ‘1‘?”h, is it anything in which I can give you. w

e . l i
he banker looked distrustfully around, as if '
to make sure that neither his wife nor attendant ’
was within ear-shot , I ‘ .

“ I wouldn’t have her know anything about it
for the world,” he said, in an undertone, allud~
in to his wife.

hitney rose and closed one of the doors which
happened to be open. Then he sat down uite‘ ,
near his host, signifying by his manner the he
was ready to receive any communication he ;
chose to make. . - A v 3

Observing his hesitation, the visitor,‘with a
,view of encouraging him, said: . g

“ I am sure we are quite alone: I received your -
note ,telling me that you had some important
news, and you will observe thatl have not los
much time by the way.” .. ~

‘f 80 I have—so I have,” remarked Mr. Carew
as if musing himself b astrong effort; “ there!
what do you think of at f" r

From the inner pocket of the silken wrap
which incased his form, he drew a letter i t
had been broken Open (for it was. addressed to
the banker) and handed it to his visitor, adding
the remark: ,
“It has broken me all up and I ought to be in“;
bed againfl’

“ Shall I read it?” asked Whitney, glancing at
the supersch tion and affecting an indiflerencf _,
that he was er from feeling.

“ Certainly; I sent for you, as soon as
prehended the meaning 0 the communication
t is o strange and fearful that I feel I must no
make a mave without your advice.” ':.

Unfolding the missive. Cutt Whitney read the
followin astounding letter which was withou
date, alt ough post-marked at Asheville;
"'l‘cnoa Cansw. Esq.:— ' ‘

“ Sun—Your niece, Miss Gladys Linden, is wit
our power and where it is impossible for you or
emcers of the law to reach her, She has suffe
harm and will not suffer any, provided you do what
we tell you to do. Within the next twenty-fourho 7
vou must give us the sum of fifty thousand dolls ‘1

vou 1:. War, your niece shall he returned in 7
within tli following twelve hours as unherm
when she left your roof to go to the party at Rum '
apld. If you refuse, you will-never Dgpiu see here

ve. '

   
  

 
 
 

,,,,

  
   
  
   
   
 
  
 
 
    

lco

   

   

       
    
     
    

 
 

.22 ]

 

'1,» 

'Zigz'agan‘d (Butt, the Invincible Detectives.

‘ ,, , i a

 

 

“ Now to business. Understand in the first place,
that the project of abd ting your niece and holding
her for reuse was pe acted two weeks ago, and it
has been carr ed out in eVery detail precisely as We
planned it. '

“This ma strike on as a rather daring proceed-
ing. but we ave on y to remind you that al the dc-
tective force of the country was unable to get back
the Ross boy after he was stolen in Philadelphia.
Ila/d his friends paid the (price demanded, they would
have got the lad safe an sound. 1‘th tried to out-
wit the parties who held the youngster, and the re-
sultwas—az l the boy forever.

" You will with on. Undertake to play double
with us and the same fate will overtake your niece;
act square and we will keep our bargain just as
Westervelt and the others would have done with
Charley R )ss. .

’ “ We know there are detectives in Asheville, but
they and you and your house are w-ntched and will
be watched until this job is finished. You can't
make a move to defeat us or to put any of th m on
our track without our knowin it at once, and the
first attempt on your part to 0 so closer: the [#9021711-
, Mons! Nothing then will save your niece~not even
if you offer fifty million dollars. Enough acid.

‘The all-important uestion is how shall this be
arranged? We will tel you. Put the amount—fifty
thousand dollars—in bank-bills in a valise; mount
your horse at eleven o’clock Monday evvning and
ride south over the Beavertown road. Five miles
from Asheville, you will reach a small, wooden
bridge. You can t miss it, for there is no o'hcr one

 within a mile of it. At the bridge, on will dismount
’ ‘, and place the valise under the bri go beside a large
stone, which is on the bank of the small stream.

You will then remount your horse and continue rid-

ing southward. Remember not to turn back, for if
1 any one should accidental] see on. your actirn

mi ht awaken curiosity, but f you :- dc ahead, others

wil see nothing noteworthy in what you d».

" You will see no one, but all the same, you will be
watched. If you have any companion or any one is
obserwd lurking near, it will be useless for you to
leave the valise, for no one will call for it.

a j ' “ Un'lersmnd. we cmnot be entrapped.

“ You can continue southward and find your way
back to Ashevillo by some roundabout read. As
soon as you are out of sight and the coast is clear
some one will go forward and pick up the valise. I
the sum is found correct, (remember, 50,000,) Miss
Gladys Linden will be under your roof before the set
, of sun, ready, to declare that she neverreceived more
#3 courteous treatment in all her life. But if the
amount is a single dollar short. if any part of it is
bad or is marked, all negotiations are ended. You
know what that means! -

“Everything, We trust, has been made clearb

.. s

 

 

n

After reading this astonishing letter, Cutt
Whitney sat motionless with his eyes fixed upon
the paper, as he knew the eyes of Tudor Carew
were fastened upon him.

r He had grasped the full meaning of the com-
munication, but he wished to do a little rapid
thinking for himself, before saying anything to
his host. '

He did it.

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair and
looked straight in the countenance of the bank
president.

Egg latter met his gaze unflinchingly, and
as r ‘

, f “ What do you think of it?”

i “A high-handed proceedin , indeed! But it
{Mann me now as if ‘ Us’ aids the winning
a

 

 
    
   
   
  
     
  
   
  
  
    

1, ‘ such. an outrage?” demanded Tudor Carew,
flaming up and speakin in a voice loud enough
to netrate ever pa on of the upper floor.
“ m I com lie to payawhole fortune tosave
mime“? here is the power of the law? Is
_th the nineteenth centuryl”

  
  
          
     
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
 

18,” calme replied Cutt Whitney, who had rea-
' sons of his own for doubting the sincerityof this
g indignation. ‘
‘ The bank gresident sprung from his chair and
good up an down the room, like a man beside
mself with re .

“ I’ll never consent!” he exclaimed, sawing the
air thh both hands. “It is worse than the
brigands of Marathon; itisan infamous out-
- , rs i It is a disgracetothe coun and el
‘ , It unparalleled! No, sir!” he odd ,wh ng

-‘, short about With flashing eyes-and shaking his
, fist at Whitney, as though he believed he was

the author of the fearful proposition.

‘ You must make your own choice,” quietly
~ i. replied the detective. “ The proposition is made
to you, and it rests with you, therefore, to ac—
cept or reJect the terms.”

,. 9 What do you think of it? .Tell me that.”
“There is little to think about. The terms

’are p1a1n,and.thoedgh it is an outrage, that it

«seems almost incr ible any one dare make in

this country, nevertheless it is made.”

_ “ But—but cannot you’defeat the scheme and

:capture the infernal sooundrels who sent me

I such a proposition 7”

\ . 5113161.? plans, have been laid and executed too

w

 “ What is your advice?”

“ To accept the terms and pay the blood-
money demanded, for it is simply a choice
, whether you, Will give fifty thousand dollars to
“save the life of your niece, or whether you will
hold it back and let her die.”

CHAPTER XXIX.
I , an IMPORTANT CONFERENCE. .
I) curvn WEITNEY’ needed no prolonged

o

     

 
  
 
    
  
   
     
          
       
  
  

  

 

“ Do you mean to say that there’s no escaping.

“ To the best of my knowledge and belief it.

 

‘ study of the manner of Mr. Tudor Carew to be-

come satisfied that most of his indignation was
assumed. In fact the omcer suspected that his
host was not surprisnd by the reception of the
letter; more than that, he was sure of the fact.

“Did this reach you by messenger or through ‘

the oat-office?”

“ here’s the envelope,” he replied pointing to
the ellow cover on the stand at his elbow.

“ t was dro ped in the Asheville office this
morning,” sai the detective, examining the
postmark; “was it delivered after your return
from Boston?”

“ I found it in my mail, awaiting my return,
when I reached home this afternoon.”

“Have you any suspicion of the Writer?"

“ My gracious! how could I know whom to
suspect?” demanded Mr. Carew, flushing slight-
l

y“ You have received no callers nor other com-
munications since I was here last?" I

“None whatever—that is, from any of these
parties.”

“ Mr. Carew, can you raise fifty thousand
dollars on such short notice?"

“ Well. yes, it so happens that I happen to
have that amount at command just now, but,
since we must trust each other fully in this
matter, I may as well tell you that the money
is not my own.”

“Thanking you for your confidence, may I
ask who is the owner of the funds?” ‘

“ My niece, Miss Linden.”

“ Then you would simply be taking all of her

monwezy—J'
“ - ot all, but a goodly portion,” interrupted
the banker, with Some pride of manner.

“ Then you would simply be using a part of
her money for her own benefit. In that case,
the sum would be justly chargeable against her
estate.”

An odd light shone in the gray eyes of Tudor
Carew. .

“ Do you think so?”

" Unquestionably I do."

“ But how would the courts and the commu-
nity at large regard such a transaction?” ' -

“ There could be but one view of it. Through
no fault of ours, our niece is placed in such
peril that s 6 won d gladly give all her fortune
and ten times more, if she had it, to escape.

You secure her freedom, by paying a ransom ,
which she can well afford to deduct from her 1

own estate. If you feel able to give that amount
to her and choose to do so, no one can question

your right; but certainly on are under no ob«
igation to exercise such li erality.”

“ I wish I were able, but really I am. not. So
you think—but, Mr. Whitney, is there no way
of bringing these scoundrels to justice and sav-
ing the money?" _

“ Yes—the single way of paying for the same
with the life of your ward."

“ HeaVem! it‘s awful l” ‘

And leaping to his feet, the excited banker

heed up and own theapartment like a caged

on. ,

Bu he did not deceive his guest. His emotion
was ounterfeit, and Mr. Cutt Whitney “ knew
his man.”

“ Well,” flnail said the elder, dro
in his chains“: 0 h exhausted; “ suppose it
must be done;,yes, ll do it, for the sake of my
beloved niece—poor thing i", ,

He sopped his eyes for a minute or two with
his white silk handkerchief, as though to stay
his (grief. During this little episode the detective
be] his peace as if through respect for the other’s
sorrow. '

“ Don’t you think, Mr. Whitney,” suddenly
asked the bank president, as though the thou ht
had just occurred to him, “that you can ay
some lens to capture these thieves?” '

“ . Carew,” replied Mr. Whitney, sternlyy
“ your grief for the suflering of your daughter
beclouds your judgment. Don’t you understand
that these knaves will be on the watch, and the
first attempt of the kind will be the death-war-
rant of the lady? I beg you to think no more
about it.”

“ Mr, Whitney, I thank you more than I can
tell,” said the old entlemen, in a choking voice,
offering his ban to the caller; ‘5' your advice
will be followed to the letter.” I

“ That is the only thing that can be done. No
doubt I was watched when I came into the
house.”

“1‘13? you imagine any harm will come from

a

“ I presume not, but nothing more of the kind
must be done.”

“ But what will you do?" >

“ Nothing; I must keep carefully in the back-

und until the return of your niece. After
t t we may See whether anything can be done
to trace the villains. But they are shrewd, oun-
ning fellows, and depend upon it, they will covar
their tracks well. It will be time enough to
think of the work of the future when the work
of the present is finish ."

Nothing more of importance ,was said, and
Cu“; Whitney soon after took his departure,
havmg struggled hard to give the impression
that he meant to stay at or near his hotel until
the conclusion of the negotiations between
Tudor Carew and the abductors of his niece.

ing again

i Without seeming to do so, the detective
glanced sharply to the right and left as he came
out upon the street. It was beginniu to grow
dark, and the lam were few and far tween;

l but by the dim lig t he was quite sure that he

' saw the figure of a man beneath one of the bare

shade—trees on the opposite side.

It was wise, however, to be ignorant at such
times, and, as he strolled down the avenue, his
manner did not betray that there was any such
thing as suspicion in is mind.

After reaching the hotel, he spent a few inin-
utes in the office and bar-room, on the lookout
for any one who might be piping him or for his
friend Zigzag. He was not successful in either
respect, and as it still lacked a half-hour of the
time for tea he went up-stairs.

Applying is key to his mom door, he admitted
himself, but started back on seeing that there
was an intruder ahead of him.

He was a middle~aged man, dressed somewhat
loudly, who seemed to have gotten into the
“ wrong pew ” without suspecting it.

Before anything in the nature of question and
explanation could be said, the two shook
hands.

“ How did you get in, Zig, Without the key?”
asked Whitney

His guest held up a piece of b‘ent wire.

“ That rarely falls me, though it did the other
night at Oak Hall.”

“How long have you been here?”

“ I arrived about the middle of the afternoon;
where’s Melville.’

“ I guess he’s asleep yet. I haven’t seen him
since we )arted Friday night, or rather Satur-
day mommg.” ,

“ What about that cipher business?” '

“ It wasn’t he who made the figures. The
first page of the ledger was written by another
band, though it was the same one that con-
structed the cipher.

“ Of course; whatis his name!”

Whitney looked in the face of Zigzag, and
both laughed.

“ You know just as well as I do," said the
former. ,.

“What else have you to tell me’l”

“ Considerable; give me your ears.”

 

story of his interview With Mr. Tudor Carew,
and of the proposed ransom of his niece.

“And so you read the old fellow,” remarked
Zigzag, without dis laying any surprise; “I’m
glad to find you be your eyes open. Give me
your theory.”

“ But you insist that a detective shbuld have
no theory:

“ Not fore he enters upon the investigation
of a question. After he has learned some facts,
he must of necessity form a theory, which after
1all may be wrong; you have discovered some
acts. ‘

“ In the first place, then, Mr. Carew, for rea-
sons which will perhaps a pear in due time, de-
sires to y that. exorb taut ransom for the
return of is niece.” ‘ ‘

“ It does look that we .” . _

“But he wants to ma 9 it safe to do so. His
wish, therefore, was to learn what I intended to
do during the trying time.”

“ Do you think you deceived him?”

“ I am confident I did.”

“ Did he ask any questions about me!”

“ Not a word.” 'I - -

“ He knows, nevertheless, that .1 am in the
case, but thinks that if you remain in the back-

ound, I will do the same.”

3“
‘:’But after all I don’t see what good it will do

5.

“ Catt, did you study the handwriting of the
letter Mr. Carew showed you?”

“ What did you make of it?”

“ The letter you know was quite long, and, al-
though the writer strove hard to di also his
hand, he could not keep it up at a times.
There was a break near, the middle which was
a dead give away.” ,

“ Didyou identify it?"

“Unmistakably so. The writer of the letter
was—who?”

" The same one who wrote the cipher.”

‘,‘,Of course; Zig, the trail is growing warm-

“ Yes, but there’s considerable work to do yet
and some of those fellows are mi hty shrewd.
Catt, do you know where that b dge, is that
‘ US ks about in his letter to Cal-ow?”

“ I t ink i recall it, though I did not pay
much attention to it on my we cut.” , I

“ I remember it clearly, for can ht the toe
of my shoe in one of the rotten plan 3 and came
so near falling that I’m afraid I uttered, a
naughty word. Well, when Mr. Tudor Carew
stops to put that valise and the money under the
bridge I’ll be. there.”

“ Whati' under the bridge?”

“ As sure as you liVe.” ,

“ It will not do; it will upset all our p .7’

“ Not a bit of it; they’re trying a little game
of bluff.” ‘

“ But how can you get there?”

“ I’ll find a way; stay here till I am out of the
way: we must be strangers before others; I’m
off, good night!" ,

 

l

 

 

And thereupon Whitney related to Zigzag the

 

, "gut-aw. H;G«’M'1F~f.mrg$gi§ ,, ’,

 

lss-le'l

 «golf-.19“ .

    

 

 
 

 

          
        

 

Fr?"

 

 

,  WW ‘

mm W “megs: no. .u’ r: a:if.n-rf'fi‘rumwwflruw

‘ mengwgr.

 

 

i"

 pf, N ,  :fix/ I ,

', Zigzag and On it, the Invincible Detectives.

V " «Mgr: ‘

 

CHAPTER XXX.
A NIGHT SCOUT.

ZIGZAG stepped briskly to the door of the
room. as if about to pass out, but, with his hand
upon the knob, turned sharply about. and. with-
out speaking, smiled at his companion.

There was a world of meaning in the look,
and it said as plainly as words could say:

“ Cutt, I want you to examine my make-up
critically, and to tell me what you think of
it.

Whitney held his hand horizontally across his
forehead, as if to shade his eyes, while taking a
survey of the other.

“ Do you catch on, Cutt?”

“I reckon.”

“ What do you thmk of it?”

“ It would deceive his own mother. Then you
had something like this in your mind when you
came to Asheville’i‘”

“ It couldn’t have been that, for I had no
knowledge of any proposed attempt on the part
of Mr. Carew, but the general principle, so to
speak, was the same.”

The sagacious' reader has been told enough to
understand that Zigzag had determined upon a
daring course, before the information of Cunt
Whitney pointed out the precise turn which his
cssa should take.

\ hat that course was, as well as its result, will
be speedily made known.

“ You know where that old Revolutionary
house stands at the eastern end of the town,
Cutt?”

“ The one built of Holland bricks, and almost
hidden by shrubbery!”

“ The same."

‘ I do.”

“You will be there exactly at seven o’clock,
on the right hand side of the road. At that hour
an open wagon will drive up to the pavement,
and you will climb into the rear as lively as you
know how. You will keep out of sight until we
are be ond the town.”

“ 1’] be there on time.”

u Bygby.”

“ So-long.”

J ust as the wheezy old town clock began chang-
ing the hour of seven, Cutt Whitney, who was
sauntering along the street in front of the Revo-
lutionary structure alread described, caught
the hurried rattle of whee s, and, looking over
his shoulder, saw an open spring-wagon. driven
by one person, slowing its patio and turning to
the right, so as to reac the walk very near the
spot where he stood. I

Do] izig the few minutes that preceded the
coming of this vehicle, the detective had taken
a number of observations with ,extreme care.
The result was the certainty that no suspicious
eyes were watching his movements.

He had seen his old acquaintance, Ben Jones,
hanging around the bar-room, as if ex ting
some one, but be easily kept out of h s way,
and was absolutely sure that no one was shad-
owing him.

Therefore, when the wagon drew up. he fol.
lowed instructions and climbed into the rear.
As he expected. Zigza was stretched out on the
straw and buflalo—ro in the bottom, a par-
entlv as much at ease as if swinging in his -
mock under the summer trees. ' ‘

The night was windy and crisp, but it was
not so clear as were the two precedin evonin .
The sky was full of drifting clou s, and t e
light of the moon was obscured sooften that it
became treacherous and uncertain.

This was satisfactor to the oflcers, for it
will be remembered t at the had more li ht
than they wished three nig ts before. he
scheme of Zigzag was 'one which promised bet—
ter success in the darkness than in the light.

The instant Whitney entered the wagon, be
stretched out so that his head did not show
above the side, and reclined face to face With
Zigzag who had an ulster that reached from his
head to his heels.

“ Does it correspond?” asked Whitney, as the
wagon rattled out toward the count .

“ Exactly; it is a twin brother of h ”

“ Good! who is driving?”

"" Don’t you know him i” \

Whitney Icoked up sharp from the bottom
(if/the vehicle at the man w 0 was holdin the
lines. He could see little beside his back. here
was enough light to show that he had on a
coarse common coat and his cap was suéh as
many farmers wear in the autumn of the year,
when they can be bought at a trillin cost.

It was impossible to identify him in such a
view.

“ I say, driver.”

In answer the man looked around.

“ I thought so,” laughed Whitney, as he recog-
nized Fred Melville. “ We three are together
again; are there to be any more?”

“ That’s enough.”

“ But there are'fou‘r or five of them.”

“ And one or two Will not count for much. I

, tell you. Catt. that when an omcer has got the '

drop and the law on his side. he‘s mighty power-
ful and you will be kind enough not to allow it
to fade from your recollection.” v
“ We are not on the Beavertown highway.”
“ No, sir; not by a large majority. but we
soon shall be.”

'their side, would

 

“ Suppose you enlighten me a little as to your
plans,’ now that we have fairly started on the
r . '

“They are simple. Melville is familiar with
the country for a dozen miles around Asheville.
We will drive out about fourmiles to the house
of a friend of his. There we’ll put u the team
and then cut across the country or a little more
than a mile.
town road, or rather will brin me there for I
am the only one to make the iul journey.”

“ How is that!"

“ The selection of that bridge for the deposi-
tory of the fifty thousand dollars is wise except
in one important respect; it can he approached
by a stranger, who, by using sufficient care,
may escape discovery. But I presume they
could not have done better."

“ And you intend to avail yourself of that
means?”

“ Preciselv; that valise with its contents is to
be mine, and I’m ready to take the responsibil-
ity. -

“ But how is it the hiding-place can be reach-
edso readily?"

“ The road over which we are now traveling
diverges. like the spoke of a wheel. from the
Beavertown highway. By going about a mile
across lots, you can reach one from the ,other.
Less than two hundred yards from the impor-
tant bridge,is a stretch of woods. Through these
woods, winds a small brook, which continues ac-
ross the meadow and under the bridge and so
on, until I suppose that in the end and through
a dozen different channels, it debouches into the
Atlantic Ocean.”

“ How will that brook help you i”

" It v has wound its way across the meadow
for so many years, that it has worn a hollow
fully two feet deep—enough for a man to creep
the entire distance without detection from any
on]? gnless he happens to be in the depression it-
se . -

The plan of Zigzag we have said, was quite
simple, being that of reaching the bridge by
means of what may be called a cut, and. secur-
ing the enormously valuable valise that Tudor
Carew had agreed to deposit there at eleven
o’clock that night.

Since it was to be expected that, one of the
gang would speedily reach the s t on, the same

errand, it can be seen that an interesting com-

plication was quite sure to take place.

While Zigzag was thus engaged, Melville and
Whitney were simply to await in the woods the
return of their leader. He gave them to under

stand that there was but one way in which;

the could hel him and that was b kee in
“binds off.” p ’ y p 3

There could be no doubt that any attempt to ,

reach the bridge by means of the Beavertown

road would be certain of detection, or at least of ,

suspicion. which amounted 'to the same thing.
So the officers were wise to yield all thought of
an such thing.

fely beyond sight of Asheville ‘the two
lighted their cigars and assumed the sitting goal-
:iocgn, a conversation following in which all t res

part.

, Zigzag explained his experience in New York
and gave it as his opinion that they would be
able to make a prodigious haul that nighat.
though he reminded the enthusiastic Melville t t
many obstacle were likely to intervene, between
them and success. '

The detective had laid out his line of action,
when returning from New York that Monday
afternoon. He felt that it would be a rash thing
for him and Whitney to make a. descent upon the
gan without assistance, even though he was
con ent of weakening the opposing force by of-
fecting a divisionaof them.

Three aailants armed and with the law on

be enough and Fred Melville
was just the one needed. He was almost in a
fever of terror over the prolonged absence of
Gladys, but his relief was inexpressible when
Zigzag assured him that she was absolutely safe
and unharmed, and doubtless would remain so
for some time to some.

With such a man at his elbow, the only difll- _

eiilty‘ would be to restrain his ardor and cour-
age, which would lead him to take all possible
risks for theJeke of his beloved, or that he
mi ht punish those who had offered her the
in igni y. ’

There was plent of time at command, and
the three friends ound the conversation so in-
terestin that the horse was drawn down to a
slow wa k and it was almost eight o’clock, when
Fred Melville turned the animal over to the
care of his friend, tqwhom he explained that
the were out on a.little business which they
d red to keep secret. - ,

The triend had much less curiosity than the
averalgs‘oountryman and merely wished them

“0‘. ‘ i .

Melville had roamed over the section so many
times when a boy that every feature of the land-
scape was as well-known to him as was the fumi-
wre in his own bedroom. Therewas no hesi-
tancy. therefore. on his part when he took the
position of leader. ‘

By the uncertain light of the moon, he led the
mayl iptto the woods. and then turned a little to
t e e

That will bring us to the Beavar- ‘

23

l “Yes, here it is,” he said in explanation, as
, they struck a path among the trees; “ I believe '
I that has been there for a hundred years. My ,;
! grandfather remembered it when he was a boy '
f and there were all sorts of stories to account for

it. Here we are !"

This exclamation came a moment later, when ' ‘
3 they reached the brook at a point so near the
meadow, that the open space beyond was in
plain sight. '

Twenty steps to the right. brought the three
to the margin of the wood. where there we! a ,.
vigorous growth of bushes and shriibhery. '2

“Here is agood spot to do some viai'tin ," ~ . ,
remarked Zigzag, throwing himself upon t e ’4
ground. like one who has several idle hours on
his hands.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
“ EUREKA l” ,

FROM the position of the friends reclining in
the margin of the wood, they could obtain only
occasional and unsatisfactory glimpses of the
Beavertown highway.

By lying flat on their faces when the moon ;
happened to be clear, they were able to trace - 
the shadowy omlines of the public road as v i.
marked by he line of fence which hounded that at
portion. The young, bright eyes of Fred Mel- 31*"
ville more than once discerned the bridge quite 
plainly when it was only indistinctly seen by the 
0t BPS. 3'.

It was natural at such times that they should 
fancy they saw persons and horses when nosuch v
objects existed. The leisure, too, offered a great
advantage. since it allowed Zigzag to explain
more fully his plans than he would have done
bad it been otherwise. -

During these hours he gave the minutest par-
ticulars of his experience in New York. the '
story opening wide the eyes of Fred Melville,
who ained a knowled e or human wickedness
and ypocrisy such as 6 had never before sus-
pected. ,
I The advantage in one respect will be perceived.
| When the time came to move, the three knew
‘v precisely what was to be done, or rather what

they were to try to :lo.

wice while waiting they heard persons cross
l the bridge. The first time a heavy wagon
I drawn by two horses rattled over, and the sec-
ond time it was a carriage drawn bya single
g horse. There was no reason to believe that in
either case the burglars were interesbid.
E And so it came about, at half- st ten o’clock,
when Zigzag whispered that e was going to
make a start. no sign of their enemies had been _
I seen or heard. 
The detective took the best survey possible of?
the ground in front ofyhim. and then. crouching
down like an Indian scout began his toilsome
advance toward the ricket liri gs. .-

It need not be said that elville and Whitney
watched the movements of their friend with the
closest interest. The could see his head and
shoulders quite plain y. as he crept stealthlly
away from them and in the direction of their ‘
bridge. Once or twice, when his bare head
showed above the level of the ground, Whitney
uttered a hissin sound as a warning for him to,
be more mrefu ; but Zigzag knew what he was
doing and did not require the caution. - ' .,

The course of the stream was com tively
straight for the first part of the way, at it was
not long before there was enough curve to shut
their f end from sight. _*
Several times Fred thou ht’ be detected the ,'
crown of his head slowly to wing the course of v ‘“
the brook, but Whitnev would not believe, it,
for, aside from the difficulty of seeing such an
object distinctl at that distance, be was sure , ‘
that Zigzag, as e neared the bridge, would nap
the utmost care. . ,‘

He was correct in this opinion of the skill of
his friend, for Geronimo himself could not how
been morecareful than be. , ,

It was a task or no little dlmculty to advance
in the manner described. There were plums
where the depremion of the banks was so all I:
that he had to lie flat on his face and move a f
the manner of a turtle. At times his hands and '
then his feet were in the icy waters and mud of . ff »
the brawling brook, and then there would comoj
stretches where the progress was quite  I "

, Nothing was to be feared from the up roach ‘
of an enemy by way of the rear, so he voted _

. all his attention to the front and especial! 'did

1 he keep the brld under the closest n on. .1

; It would have absurd on the part of Zig-
za to smoke his cigar, but when at last with mg,
sig of relief. he crawled underneath ' the struc- J“

; tore, he cautiously struck a match and looked at I,

l to .
1 He was pleased to see that it lacked but a few _
, minutes of eleven o’clock. While this showed '

  
   
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
  
    
    
 
  
   
 
  

 

 

r.

  

that he had taken more time than he I

I in reaching the a t, it proved also that a had

; not long to wet, provided Mr. Tudor Carew

» was prompt in keeping his engagement. ' ‘

The bridge, which was destined to play its:

part in the events we are describing, was an "
ordinary affair. such a are common in all parts
of the country today. It consisted simply (2&3
score or more of planks, laid upon str g ,
beams, extending from bank to bank‘of the '

   

 ,

: and then step over the

'~ more and more 0
’ lower part of a heavy overcoat was visible, un-

' as if looking for something.

24

Zigzag and cm. the Invincible Detectives. '

 

 

brook. (protected above by a single guard—rail on
each si e.

Since the brook was liable to occasional over-
flows, the freeholders who built the bridge
caused the planking to stand perhaps six feet
above the brook at “ low tide,” while its Width
was about twice as great. Thus Zigzag found~
abundance of room beneath, though he would
have been glad had there been still more in which
to stow himself away.

The banks beneath the structure sloped down-
ward to the middle, where the small stream
flowed quietly along, so that the man, large ' as a
he was, was able to squeeze himself quite c10se
to one end of the structure.

Before doing so, he easily located the large
stone beside which, as Whitnefi had told him,
the President of the Asheville ank had prom—
ised to place the valise containing fifty thousand
dollars.

Since the clouds were often obscured, it will
be understood that when Zigzag had forced him-
self as far back as he could, he was in darkness,
where it was impossible for any one to see him
without artificial aid.

The officer felt no fear of Tudor Carew, for
he was not likely to make any search or to do
more than simply leave the treasure, but accord-
ing to the terms of the latter, one of the gang
was to come to the spot and take away the
valise, presumably a very short time after the
de arture of the banker.

r ow, if he should take it into his head to ap-
pear within a few minutes. how was an en-
counter between him and Zigzag to be avoided?

In the event of his being on time, it may be
said that such a collision was certain and Zig-

‘ zafi was prepared for it.

ut the wary officer did not believe the fellow
would put in an appearance for an indefinite
period. In fact, it was difficult to see how he
could do so, since he mUst have been discovered
if in the vicinity, and the closest watch of Zigs
za'r and his friends had failed to detect him.
‘he truth was, Zigzag had formed his
“ theory,” in the light of very recent events,
and he did not believe he was running near as
much risk as would be supposed.

According to his view, the danger was to
come shortly after and in an altogether different
latitude.

These thoughts were running rapidly through
the brain of the sagacious officer, when he
caught a sound like the clump of a horse’s hoof.
The next instant he was sure of it.

Rattley-bang! came a noise on the planks over-
head shaking them so violently that the dust sift-
ed down on the crown andshoulders of the eaves-
droppcr, and it seemed as if the whole struct-
ure itself was on the point of tumbling about qis

ears. r

But the clatter and rattle was brief and the
steed struck the solid ground beyond, apparent-
ly without any abatement of his pace.

“ I really believe the old fellow deesn’t mean to
stop,” was the thought of Zigza , dissipated the
next moment, by a distinct “ hoa/ ” which
he recognized as the voice of Tudor Carew, Presi-
dent of the Asheville Bank.

' The old gentleman spoke several more times
to his animal, which appeared to be somewhat
frisky. Soon; hawever, he quieted him, and

' then stepped to the ground.

Zigzag was all eyes and ears.

Heheard the man walk across the planking

rd, so as to approach

.the bridge from the si‘ e where he was crouch-

ing. He saw a. pair of slim legs, as shown be-

low the lines of the Planking at the end. When
them came into sight, the

til, as the ownerrstepped near the edge of the
brook, he could be observed to his waist.
Standing thus, he stooped over to peer under,

At this moment it so happened that the.
clouds in front of the moon swept past, and the

‘ shoulders and face of the man who bent down

were in plain view. .
Zigzag, cowering in the gloom and as motion—
less as t e big stone at the eet of Tudor Carew,

‘. ’ was hidden from sight.

The detective observed a valiee grasped in the
gloved hand of the old gentleman, and he fan-

cied that it bulged as though it was almost full
- 30f something.

Bending over, Carew remained motionless a
minute or so and then asked in a husky voice:

“ Hello, Buck, are you there?”

Of course there was no answer to this sum.
mans, which pleased the listening Zigzag ‘more
than would be  It was his lief that
'Buckholtz was to the messenger that would
come to claim the valise, and he had gotten him-
.self up in as close imitation of him as ' le.
Had any other party come for it, Zigzag would
have been prepared for him as well.

“ Are you there. Buck?" , -'

‘ There being no response to the second sum-
.mons, Tudor Carew actually gave utterance to
[an im tient oath. whereat the listening Zigzag

smil broadly.
“All right, muttered the old gentleman,

‘~ 'careful‘lyldepositing the valise beside the large

stone; ’ve kept my part of the contract?
.Then he withdrew up the sloping bank,

 

climbed over the guard, crossed the bridge,
remounted his horse and struck him into a
gallop.

It was in accordance with his agreement also
that, instead of turning his animal about and
riding back to Asheville, he should keep him
headed in the southerly direction, and at the
same sweeping pace With which he had ap-
proached, he speedily swept out of sight.

It was not necessary for Zigzag to peer around
from underneath the bridge to make sure of
this, for he was as certain of it, as though his
eyes beheld every movement.

But the detective lost no time. Squeezing
himself forward from his cramped quarters, he
had but to creep a short distance when his out—
stretched hand rested on the valise.

“Eureka!” he muttered when he actually
closed his fingers around the curving leather

handles at the top by which it was carried; ‘

“ I have found it .’

CHAPTERXXXII.
$50,000 VERSUS $0.

IT was a strange sensation that came over
Zigzag the detective, when, from his hiding-
place beneath the old bridge be rasped the
valise, which there was reason to lieve con-
tained fifty thousand dollars, the price of the
ransom demanded for the life of Miss Gladys
Linden.

“ I said ‘ Eureka,’ ” he muttered, “ a moment
ago, but I’m by no means certain that I had
warrant in doing so. There surely is abulky
package within, but it remains to be examined. ’

And to do that it was necessary to make his
way back by the laborious and tedious process
that he had approached.

The officer was disposed to rebel, for it would
have been so vastly easier for him to walk
straight across the open space to the woods,
where his friends were awaiting him, and the
chances were ten to one against his being seen
by unfriendly eyes.

But he would have been a, poor representative
of his profession had he allowed himself to be
tempted aside by any fear of discomfort.

So, crouching down, while still beneath the
planking of the bridge, be began his laborious
return, taking as much pains,-as though he had
to pick his why within a short distance of a
camp of hostile Indians.

The waiting was as tiresome to Melville and
Whitney as to the one to whom it brought so
much labor and toil.

They lainly saw the horseman gallop across
the bri ge,’and belt on the other side,where
he dismounted and ’came back valise in hand,
though the latter object was hardly discernible
at that distance. -

Of course the two friends observed him also
when he remounted and rode off.

“You know where he is going?” remarked
Whitne intfiiiringly.

“To ak all.”

“ No doubt of it.”

“Why go to the [bother of leaving the valise.
when he mi ht as well have taken it with him?"

“Tudor arew is too shrewd to make any
such slipas that. Despite all my romises to
him, he is ap rehensive that I wil been the
watch somew m. I have no doubt that he
looked searchineg at these woods, when ap-
proaching and leaving the bridge.”

“ He may have discovered Zigzag under-
neath.” ' ' ' ‘

“ Zigzag was in no danger, for who but him
would have thought of such an audacious pro~
ceasing? He must be on his way back to

“ But where,” asked the puzzled Fred Mel-
ville, “ is the fellow who was to claim the
treasure? I should have thought he would have
been ready to run forward before Carew was
out of sight?”

“I doubt whether you will see him,” was the
significant reply of the detective.”

‘But flit thousand dollars is a large sun to
leave lying in the night time.”

“ Yes, so it is,” sar cally commented
Whitney; who was scanning‘ the course of t e
brook, in the hope of -catc ing sight of th 1‘
friend on his way back.

“ Now, if there is some one lurking near,” con-

tinued Fred, who was much more nervous than
his companion, “nothing is more likely than
thatwhe would appear pretty near where we
are. .
“ You are right,” responded Whitney, as if 'he
feared they were becoming too careless; “ we
must keep close to the ground, where we are
less likely to be seen.”

“Maybe I was mistaken, but I think -I heard
something moving over the leaves behind us.”

Both looked behind them, and. were silent for
a minute or two, but did not detect anythin to
warrant alarm, They were inclined to eve
that it was only the hi ht—wind stirring the
limbs or the leaves upon t e ground.

Before the uestion could heanswered beyond
a doubt, the gure of a man rose to view from
between the banks of the brook that had been
an object of interest so long. He was but a few
ste away, and held a valise in hand. -

sting one nick lance around. he crouched
down again an quic y ran the. brief, interven-

 

,‘I

 

silen as a shadow.

“ Whewl l’m deuced lad it’s over!” be ex-
claimed, dropping on t e ground beside his
friends.

“ You did well, Zig, for I see you have the
bag with you.” '

“ Yes, and what do you bet on the amount in-
side?" asked the detective in a quizzical manner.

“ I’ll bet the even fifty thousand is there, and
that it came out of the vaults of the Asheville
Bank," replied Fred Melville.

“ I’ll bet the contents of the valise that there's
no money in it at all," was the semewhat be-
wildering wager of Cutt Whitney.

" Just hold on to the documents while I take a
look around,” said Zigzag. passing the bag to
Whitney and rising to his feet.

It was a wise precaution in the officer to make
acircuit of the spot before examining the con-
tents of the valise.

Zigzag came back'in a few minutes with the
pleasing assurance that no strangers were near
them.

“Now we’ll soon know the truth," be added,
taking the bag across his knees, as he resumed
his seat on the ground: “ I fooled with it to that
extent on the way that I opened the lock with
my bent wire; that was to save time. Now,
Cutt, strike a light.”

The other scraped one of the crackling matches
along the side of his trowsers, and shaded the
tiny flame with his hand until it grew into a
vigorous little lilnze. Then he and Fred Mel-
ville leaned foz'Ward with bated breath and
watched developments.

It required several matches, but Whitney was
so attentive, that be kept up a continuous light,
and no interruption took place in the momentous
investigation. _

Throwing open the capacious mouth of the
valise, the hearts of all gave a flutter as they
caught sight of a large package wrapped about
with coarse paper, and tied with twine, just as
large amounts of money are sometimes secured.

“ By gracious! I believe it’s there!” exclaim-
ed Whitney.

“Of course it is,” added Melville, trembling
with excitement: “you woresvrong, Zigzag.”

But the great detective was the coolest of
them all, though even he must have felt a faint
additional flutter of the heart. _

The string was tied in a bow-knot, which, in-
stead of snapping apart, as he could have read-
ily done, he deliberately untied.

“ There you are !”

A roll of thick paper, out in the shape of . the
ordinary bank bill, was all that met their VleW.

“ Green goods!” exclaimed the disgusted
Whitney. '

“ Examine further,” said Melville. . _ '

Zigzag did so, only to find that the valise did
not contain a single dollar! ,

And it was precisely what that officer ex-

ing space, darting among the trees almost as
t )7

acted. . ,
p “ He laughed in his hearty but silent way, un-
til his shoulders shook and his head bobbed. up
and down like a J ack-in—the-box.

“ Now,” he remarked, as he fiun the stuff
back in the valise, which he click _
“ you begin to see the whole plot of this precious
gang of scoundrels.”

And in truth they did, as the reader, himself ‘

shall speedily see. a .

“ Well, well,” sighed the dumfounded Fred
Melville, ‘_‘ I couldn’t believe that what you told
us awhile ago could be true. It is the strangest
thin I ever knew.” ,

“ 0 you refer to the fraud in the amount of
the money?" I

“ No, but to the amazing plot; it Will make a
is‘ensatiop through the country when it becomes

DOW“.

“Which it will do within the _next twelve
hours. Now for Oak Hall. The time has come
to strike.” _

“ But, ' Zig," whispered Whitney, as their
leader was on the point of riein from the
ground, “it seems incredible to me t at no one
should appear to claim the valise and pretended
package of money.” ‘

“ Haven’t I confiscated it?”

“But someof the gafig—” _ . ‘

,“ ’Sh !” interrupie elville, raismg hls hand
as a warning for them to hold their peace.

There was no mistake this time. A Some per-
son was picking his way anion the trees and
through the undergrowth behin them, and ap-
proaching the spot where the three were seated
on the ground, pretty well hidden by the trunks
and undergrowth. ' _ -

As if that was not enough notice, the new-
;omer announced himself in characteristic

a

time I‘ve had a limb cotch me under the chin
and almost saw my neck off!”

It was the voice 9f Ben Jones, the farmer that
had layed it so cleverly on Cunt Whitney some
n' h before. ' ‘ v

, e whi red the identity of the man to the
others, an was about to rise to his feety When
Zigzag laid his hand on his shoulder. _

“ Let we attend to him,” he whispered. Commit
to”?l attending position, as deftly as a tinned
a e .

together, '

shion. . .
“l'llbegol-darnedl if that ain't the second

M.

e r,

 

W4C.

 

t-‘f

 

 

 

Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

25

 

He had but to take a few steps toward the ap
groaching figure, when he was observed by Ben

ones who stopped and awaited his approach.

“ I thought you was goin’ to let me ‘tend to
it,” said the farmer; "' if I’d knowed you was
comin’, I wouldn‘t have bothered to tramp all
the WA round Robin Hood’s barn.”

“ I c anged my mind and concluded to run
down and get the valise myself.”

“ Why didn’t you tell me, so as to save the
trouble?” growled Ben, evidently impatient be-
cause of his useless walk.

“ Because I didn’t change my mind until just
after ou were out of the way.”

“ V al, did you git the valisel"

“ Of course; I left it on the ground out there.
Did Carew reach Oak Hallnll right?”

“ I s’pose so. but how could I know without
goin’ there?” asked Ben, still surly over the evi—
dent fact that he had taken a long and laborious
journey for nothing.

“ Can’t you be alittle pleasanter?” demanded
the other; “ you are as bad as a bear with a sore
head.”

“ VVal, I’m gettin‘ tired of this whole hanged
bus’ness."

“ What’s the matter now?”

“ You’ve been promisin’ me money so long
that I think it’s ’bout time I seen the color of

“Wait till we divvy to—night and you shall
have more than on ever set eyes on afore."

“ That’s what ’ve heard so often that I’m get-
tin’ tired of it." said Ben, who, nevertheless, was
somewhat mollified by the dazzling promise of
the other.

“ I won’t ask you to wait any longer—honest
Injin.”

“ All right,”replied Ben, with a sigh of relief.
“ Now, what do you want me to do?”

“ Let’s see; what was the arrangement? I’ve
got so many things to think about that I can’t
be sure I have everything straight.”

" Why, I was to come down at half-past
’leven and git the blamed old cai'petsack under
the bridge, and take it hum with me."

" Yes, that is so; it slipped my mind; I’ll save
ylou the trouble, and take it with me. What
9 Sr?"

“ Nothin’; what could there be?"

“ Then you were to come around in the morn-
ing and get your share. Be sure and come
early.”

“ You 'iist bet your life I will!”

“ Say, en, how is the young lady?”

“ All right, as fur as I know; I told you that
once afore this evenin’. I guess your mem’ry is
totterin’, ain’t it?”

“ I do seem to get things mixed up; but never
mind; it’s getting late, and you can now go
home and sleep the sleep of the righteous.”

“ What are you goin' to do?”

It struck Zigzag that Mr. Jones was some-
what impertinent for one in his situation.
His employer probably did not know how to
handle him.

“ I’ve a little private business that I want to
attend to.

“ All right,” growled the other. “ Now I’ll
take another five-mile tramp hum ag’in. w are
I might as well have stayed all the time.”

With that, he passed through the woods, al-
most stumbling over Melville and Whitney
without seein them, as he strode toward the
main road an so on homeward.

Zi 28. had urposely made himself up to re-
semb e aron uckboltz. Knowing the scann-
drel well, he had no difficulty in imitating his
voice and manner. ‘ .

The perfect success of this iece of impersona-
tion was proven by the fact t at he had met and
talked for several minutes with Ben Jones, With-
out the latter dreaming that he was any other
than Aaron Bucklioltz himself. _

And Zigzag had managed the interview With
such coolness and skill that he succeeded in ex-
tracting much valuable information.

“ Now, boys,” he chuckled, after Mr. Benja-
min Jones had faded from sight in the autumn
evening. “ we advance on Oak Hall.”

CHAPTER XXXIII.
AT OAK BALL.

FROM the moment Tudor Carew mounted his
horse and rode out of Asheville over the Beaver-
town read, he kept an .iinremi'tting watch to
the right and left, and indeed in every direc-
tion.

The moonlight, as we haveexplaiiied elsewhere,
was treacherous and uncertain, and the elderly
banker never made better use of his power of
vision than on that occasion.

Knowing the detective as he did, he feared
that he Would attempt some ame to entrap the
parties who would come to c aim the valise, and
he was anxious above everything else to prevent
that.

Remounting his horse,he struck him intoa
still more rapid pace, for Carew was a good
rider, and by this time he had become convinced
that Detective Whitney was honest in his
pledge to refrain from interfering with his

 

lens.
p All doubt being removed on that point, he
swung along at such a pace that it was hardly
half-past eleven when he turned the head of his

horse into the lane leading to Oak Hall, not
drawing rein until in front of the broad porch
where he had alighted many times before.

He evidently was expected, for Jud Dali‘ymple
issued from the door before the banker could

lnce his hand on the knob, and hardly pausing
ong enough to greet him, took charge of his
horse.

Entering the broad hall, Mr. Carew Walked
straight through to the rear portion, where he
opened the same door from which he had issued
three nights before, and which in many respects
pesembled the apartment that he left at that

ime.

On the round table near the middle were wine,
brandy and cigars, while a wood fire in the open
hearth in front, diffused a pleasant warmth
through the room which was shut so closely
from the keen air without that little in the way
of fire was needed.

In various indolent attitudes about the room—
one being stretched upon the lounge—were
Aaron Buckholtz, Matt Hardy and Jack Tovey.
All were smoking cigars, and they had sipped
liberally from the alcohol, though not to the
extent of showing any effect therefrom.

They returned the off—hand greeting of the
new arrival in the same manner, and, before
saying anything special, he helped himself to a.
liberal dose from the brandy bottle.

Then he drew off his overcoat and gloves, and,
extending his bony fingers toward the cheerful
fire, remarked that the night was chilly, think-
ing it necessary to emphasize the statement with
a. round oath that would have shocked every
person in Asheville, could the population have
overheard it.

Not until Dalrymple returned, was there any—
thing like a business talk. Buckholtz had in
fact told about all that Carew had to tell, ex-
cepting the fact that the latter had deposited
the vulise beneath the bridge, in accordance
with the plan so carefully formed a couple of
days before. -

“ I sent Jones around throu h the woods to
get it,” added Buckholtz; “ I to (1 him to be sure
and follow the brook through the woods, for I
knew that if any of the flies were watching, it
would be there, for that was the only place,
where there was a chance for them."

“ When was he to go?”

“ So as not to reach the spot too early because
there was no hurry. I told him in case he saw
anything suspicious—and you know they don’t
make them much smarter than him—he was to
hurry here and let us know.”

“ But if he don‘t see anything?"

“ He is to go home and to bed.”

“ So, if he doesn’t show up here we shall know
it is all right?”

” That’s the understanding.”

“ Very well," remarked Tudor Carew, com-
pressing his thin lips and shaking his head. like
a person in whose mind there remained not a
particle of doubt; “ he won’t be here.”

“ How can you know that?” asked Tovey, the
others 'oiningviii the query by their looks.

“ I xed l hitney so that a million dollars
wouldn’t tempt him to come within a mile of
the bridge before to-morrow."

“ But what about Zigzag? We’ve more reason
to fear him than all the rest together.”

“ Well,” replied Carew turning his back to
the fire and loose] folding his hands behind
him, “ he is a tong one and no mistake, but
he’s out of this.” -

“ Don’t be too sure of that,” was the sens1ble
remark of Buckholtz; “ there’s no saying where
that fellow is or where he isn’t."

“ He was in Asheville, as I know, and he went
to New York Saturday. We have had the depot
watched so closely that it was impossible for him
to get back without detection. Of course," add-
ed the banker, “ he may have found some means
of entering the town without discovery, but if
so he has put himself in communication with
Whitney, who will not let him interfere, where
he is likely to do so much injury to his friends.”

“ There has been one slip,” said Biickholtz,
“ though it is not such an important one after
a H

“ What is that?”

“ We hawn‘t been able to fix it on young
Melville. You know that during the little af-
fair at the bank on Thursday night. I was ad-
dressed as ‘ Fred,’ once or twice. That, with
the fact that he was one of the only three per-
sons who knew the combination ought to have
been enough to jog him, but it don’t seem to
have done so.”

“ And why not?”

Buckholtz shrugged his shoulders.

" I’ll be hanged if I know; ‘ previous good
character’ perha . s.”

“ The thing isn t through ye ,” was the truth-
ful observation of Matt Hardy; “ with such a
clear case against hi m, the detectives may think
it best to hold off awhile and troll him along
until they have the deadwood on him.”

“ What makes Jud so long?” asked Carew,
glancing at the door as though he expected to
see the man enter while they were talking.

“ it is time he was here,” added Jack Tovey;
“shall I go out to look for him?”

 

“Wait a few minutes longer,” replied Carew.
“I tell you," remarked Buckholtz, rising to

 

I his feet and speaking with fiat earnestness,

“ there’s one thing that must done before we
finish this business.”

All looked inquiringly at him.

“ It is well enough to think the detectives are
thrown oi! the track and I can‘t see how it is
possible that that infernal Zigzag is in Asheville,

ut l’m uneasy. To-night we are to make the
final divvy and break up until it is safe to come
together again. We ought to make sure that
none of the officers are anywhere in the neigh-
borhood before we bring out the boodle. Sup-
pose that at the exact minute they should make
a. raid. They’re suspicious of the house, as we
all know.”

“ You always were cautions, Buck, but it is as
well. I’ll go out and tell Jud to signal for Jones
to come over and stand guari .”

“ He has hardly had time to get back from
the bridge.”

“ He will soon be home.”

Tudor Carew passed out of the room through
the hull and out of the front door. On the
threshold, he encountered Dali'yniplo with a
lighted lantern in hand.

“ W hat has kept you so long?” asked the
banker.

“ I don’t like the looks of things.”

“ \Vhat have you seen?”

“ Nothing, but we ought to have some one on
the watch. This is a big night, Mr. Carew and
it won’t do to slip ii .”

“ I came out to to 1 you to signal for Jones.”

“ It is almost time he was back from down the
road and I will call him.”

In front of his station, the trees that lined the
lane were 0 en, so that an unobstructed view
was had of t e house of Ben Jones a quarter of a
mile away. .

Dalryniple began swaying the lantern back
and forth, and up and down, in a series of sig—
nals that were sure to be understood by Ben
Jones, provided he caught sight of them.

Tudor Carew kept his position by the side of
Dalrymple and watched the result.

After telegraphing for several minutes, his
companion stopped and awaited the result.

So far as could be seen, no one in the little
farm-house observed the gyrating light, though
a faint, star-like point from the building, showed
that some one was astir.

The signals were repeated and continued for
more than half an hour, until the impatient
Carew declared that if the lazy farmer had got
back from his journey, he had gone to sleep and
could not be aroused before the morrow.

“ We might have had the business finished long
ago," growled the banker, “ and I could have
been home and in bed. Let’s go in and wind up
the whole thing.”

“ Hold on! there he is!”

Sure enough, the answering signal was can ht
at that moment. The bright point appeare at
the side of J ones’s house, whirled about, swung
from side to side and went up and down in a
way that brought a. smile to the faces of the
two 5 ctators.

“ T at‘s Ben.” whispered Dalrymple.

“ What does he say?"

“ He’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“ He’s an honest fellow and we must remem-
ber him when we close up this business."

“ Shall I wait here till he comes?"

“Does he understand what is wanted of him?
That is, does he know from the signals which
you have made that he is needed to mount guard
for awhile?”

“ Oh yes; he and I have it down line; he
knows just as well what is r uired as if we
had an hour‘s explanation with im.”

“Then what is the use of losing more time!
At this rate, we wont get through before morn-
ing. Come in with me.”

Unscrewing the bottom of the lamp, Dalrym-
ole blew out the li ht and followed Tudor
Carew inside Oak B. 1.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE ADVANCE.
HAVING decided to “ march on” to Oak Hall,
Zigzag and his friends did not loiter by the

way.

'lhe valise, with its bulky package of waste
paper, was left lying in the woods, where the
parties could return and claim it should it be-
come necessary in the course of subsequent
events. As the matter stood, it was idle to in-
cumber themselves with it.

Warm work was at hand, and they did not in-
tend to be handicapped beyond the point that
was absolutely necessary.

They were considerably annoyed by the fact
that Ben Jones was traveling over the same
highway on foot and not very far in advance of
them. Since it had been proven that he was in
the employ of the gang, and that he was a
shrewd watchful fellow, it was all-important
that his suspicions should not be awakened.

If he should catch sight of three men coming
along the road behind him, he would be quite
likely to stop and investigate.

The matter was adjusted with considerable
cleverness.

Zigzag took the lead, with Melville and Whit-
ney so far in the rear that he was barely visible
to them, the understanding being that than

21 erg-eh, qr: Esq, . u

pig‘s

:~‘=“"’- {a

. 1.

 

 

:.. .

o.

' we ' " V

' Zigzag and an... the I

    

vinci'ble Detectives. ‘

 

 

relative positions should be retained until they
came in sight of Oak Hall.

If Zi zag detected a single man in the road,
be wo ddo so before his friends to the rear
could see or be seen by the stran r. A low
whistle would warn Whitney and elville to
stop and keep out of sight.

If Ben Jones should turn about to investigate,
Zigzag had only to maintain the character of
Buckholtz, which he had already assumed with
such success, and Jones would fail to “smell a
‘ mouse.”

But the farmer made a great deal better time

than the trio supposed, for, though they walked
fast, they came in sight of the long, dark
line which marked the boundary of the lane
leadin to Oak Hall, and the mass of thick vege-
tation yond without once catching a glimpse
, . of him.
As the familiar landmarks were reco ized,
/ Zigza slackened his gait so that his riends
joiner him almost at the moment of reaching
the entrance to the narrow by-road.

There was no halt until they stood in the
doc shadow of the trees where they had held
their consultation some nights before.

“ New,” whispered Zigzag, “ there can be no
doubt that they are all in there and we’re going
to settle matters to—night; but—helloa J”

This exclamation was caused by the sight of
Dalrymple’s lantern swinging up and down and
from side to side, in the manner already de»
scribed.

“That’s another call to Jones,” remarked
Whitney. ‘

“Yes, and he will soon answer, for he must
have reached his home some time ago.”

“ There it comes I" whispered Melville a min-
ute later, for Dal mple had been telegraphing
a considerable while, when first seen by the lit-
tle company that so cautiously entered the mouth
of the lane.

“ What do you suppose that means?” asked
Melville; “ has Jones round out the trick played
' on him and does he mean to put them on their

guard?”

“ It can’t be that,” replied Whitney, “ for he
would have stopped at Oak Hail, inasmuch as
he had to pass by it.”

“ Then, too, added Zigzag, “ the first si al
was made here; so it is a call from Oak H lto
, Jones instead of from him to the gang. I
shouldn’t be surprised if they want to bring him
down to help keep watch while they attend to
matters within.”

It will be seen that the clone detective
had hit the bull’s-eye the first t me.

‘ Since our friends had several hours of dark-
ness before them, they kept within their place
. at the mouth of the lane, until something defi-

1 nite could be learned concerning Benjamin

ones.

“ It won’t do for him to see all three of us.”
said Zigzag, “ so do on move a little closer to
the house stopme w ere you are sure you are
invisible in sit
here and receive Jones.”

The advice was followed.

The next minute the keen eyes of
corned the shadowy figure of a. man approach-
ing from the direction of the farmer’s residence.
He was walking in the middle of the road and
was recognized as the gentleman himself, as he
turned into the lane. r
‘ He had come but a few paces, when Zigzag,
still personating 'Aaron Buckholtz, stepped si~
lontl out and confronted him. ~

“ t’s too bad to call you from your house,
Ben,” said the detective, sym thetically, “but
we need you. and here’s somet ing to buy a new
dress with, for the better-half.”

The rebellious words that were on the lips of
the farmer were extinguished by the sight of a
, crisp new greenback which was thrust into his

hand. Holding it close to his nose, his heart
1gave a throb o delight as he faintly recognized
the figure “X” upon it.

“ That makes everything lovely,” said the de-
lighted fellow; “I’m at our service: hll you’ve
got to do is to tell me w at you want.”

“I want you to stand right where on are
and watch for strangers; I don't thin there
w ‘ will be any along, but we mustn’t take too many
chances tonight.” ,

“‘I reckon I'd better go nearer the house,”
asuggested Ben, making a move in that direc—

on. ‘ ' ‘

“Note foot closer,” was the emphatic order
of the sup Buckholtz; “ there’s no danger
from any irection except the highway, and you
must stay right here.”

“All right; consider that I’ve stood here for
a week.” . l '

_ “ If you see an hing that looks or sounds
, strange up at the; ouse, never mind, but stay
in an?” spot, unless I call to you; do you under-

stand

, “ I would be a fool if I didn’t understand;
I’m anchored here as long as you want-me.”

“Very well; be auured you will not be for-

r

      
   
      
   
     

/

’ gotten; good'by.” r
Zig passed u the lane uickl vanishin
from sight among a dense ’sgadowi Looking

Shock , and: seeing nothing of‘the du senti
I he whispered to Whitney and Melville to follow

er'direction, while I stay.

Zigzag die, I

 

the
looked

They did so, the three halting within a dozen

yards of the porch where Jud Dalrymple had'

swun his lantern only a short time before.

“ ow,” said he. “ we must make sure of the
lay of the land, before we venture inside. Wait
til I make the circuit of the building.”

“ Don’t take many hours to do it,” said Mel-
ville, who recalled the weary waiting of a few
nights before.

‘ I won’t be gone long, but no matter how
long it is, remember to wait till I join you. I
don t want to be compelled to hunt you up after
I get back.” '

“ We’ll be here,” said Whitney in his decisive
way.

There wasno call for Zigzag to consume the
time taken on his former reconnoissance, and
he did not do so.

Being assured that there was no fierce dog to
be feared, and that the only sentinel on duty
was at the mouth of the lane, he moved with a
precision and certainty altogether lacking in the
first instance.

He quickly located the party in the‘ same
room they were seated on the former occasion.
As then, the blinds were hermetically sealed, so
that he could not catch even an infinitesimal
glimpse of the interior.

Furthermore, the party were conversing in
such low tones that he faiied to identify a single
expression, though he was confident that be
recognized the voices.

He had learned enough; the parties whom he
was seeking were in the rear room of Oak Hall,
and there was no call for the least delay in mov-
ing against them.

Five minutes later, Zigzag had rejoined his
friends on the other side of the building and ex—
plained the situation.

It was not necessary to lay out any new plan
of campaign, for, as we have said, that had been
full decided upon before.

T ey expected to find the group just as they
had found them, and what they now did was in
accordance with what was arranged while on
the road from the bridge, where the valise had
been hidden, to Oak Hall.

Zigzag walked softly in front, with Whitney
close be ind him, and Fred Melville bringing up
the rear.

Each had a couple of revolvers, and their
movements were as stealthy as that of so many
red Indiana '

The same bent wire that had served him so
well before was applied b Zigzag, who took
but a half minute to throw ck the night-latch
and to o n the front hall door.

Glancing over his shoulder, he.saw that his
friends were at his heels. ’

The door was closed behind them, and the
stood within the hall of the gloomy old buil -

in .

The next instant they advanced on tip-toe to
the room at the rear, where the burglars were
dividing their ill-gotten plunder.

CHAPTER 'xxxy.
AN OVERSIGHT.

ZIGZAG the detective was yet a dozen paces
from the room which he meantto enter, when he
saw the door open a couple of inches and then
instantly close again.

Someone had peered for a second through the
crevice at the intruders and then shut and fas-
tened the door like a flash. ' '

'“ They have seen usl” whispered Zigzag;
“ follow mei” '

He bounded forward like a panther and seized
the knob. Ashe expected, it refused to open;
it was locked from within, .

He was used to such obstructions, and he
threw his weght a ainst it with a power that it
seemed must rive his muscular shoulder clean
through the panel. ,

Whitney added his cfiorts and Melville would
have done the same .had there been room to
apply his strength. . . ‘

he combined power of the ofiicers quickly

revailed, and the door was carried off its

ingles, falling flat inside the apartment with a
eras . .

The interior was dark, except from the faint
light that penetra from the main hall.

 

“ Lookout!” said Zigzag to his friends, as he,

ducked his head expecting a fusillade from the
revolvers of' the gang.

But the s len i oflcer showed his pluck,
despite his earful peril, by leapin into the
center of the roomand calling in a. etermined
vonce: .

“gu'nrender every one of you! Up with your

han
There was somethin almost ludicrous in the
sight of a single man unding among several

desperate criminals with this command on his

lips:

“ By the great Casari” exclaimed Whitney,
who was right behind him; “ what trick is this.
Zig? There’s no one here!”

As cool] as if standing in‘his ownofficein‘

the city New York, Zigzag drew a rubber
safe from his pocket, extracted a match and
scraped it along the bottom of the little box. As

he held it above his head and

ight burned,
around the room.

 

_ He and his two friends were the only ones in

ht.
g1gl‘he recently extinguished lamp was still
smoking and it required some dextrous work to
remove the hot chimney without scorchin his
fingers. He quickly succeeded and the t ree
then saw everything clearly.

“ They have escaped i” exclaimed Whitney.

“ They must have gone out the window, ad-
ded Melville.

The next moment, however, showed them
that such could not be the case, for the two Win-
dows were not only closed, but the heavy fasten-
in of the sashes were in place—an impossi-
bi ity had the windows been used as a means of
exit. ‘

The only door connecting with the room was
that by which the intruders had entered.

Zigzag glanced up at the ceiling. It was
smooth and without a line indicating the door.

“ Here it is,” he added the next minute.

He pointed to the floor, which was without
carpet or matting.

A black line in the shape of a square about a
yard wide was easily traced by the eye.

Near one side of the space thus marked, was
an iron ring, by which the trapodoor could be
raised and lowered. It fitted in place with ex-
quisite nicety.

When discovered, Zigzag was standing almost
Over the middle and close to the table holding
the refreshments of the company.

Stooping down, he ran his middle finger
through the ring and raised the trapdoor. .

Before it was brought half-way up, two is-
tols were discharged from below, and the bu] ets
missed the head and shoulders of the ofiicer by
the narrowest chance conceivable.

He dropped the trap—door as though it had
become red—hot. .

“Stay there 1" he muttered; “ we can stand it
as long as you!”

“ Hello! here comes somebody,” said Whitney,
as all heard the front door open.

“ I’ll attend to him," replied Zigzag. “ Keep
out ’of sight in the room here, till I call for

The detective was just in time to confront
fibril new arrival, as he was moving along the

a .
It was Ben Jones, white and scared.

“ What’s the matter, Buck?” he asked.

“ Didn‘t I tell you to stay where you were till
I 'sent for you?” angrily demanded the supposed
Buckholtz.

“ Yes; but I didn’t like the looks of things—" ‘

Jones stopped short. The man before him
stood so that the glare of the hall lamp shone
full in his face. It was the first time the farmer
had had a fair look ‘at the countenance of the
man whom he supposed to be his friend. ‘
‘ “ Thunderationl” exclaimed Ben, starting
back. “ I thought you was Buckboltzl Who
are on?" ,‘

“ our master." replied the detective, shoving
the muzzle of his revolver almost against his
nose, “and for two cents l’d blow the top' of
your head off!” ‘

The fellow was so terrified that he seemed on
the ppint of falling to the floor in a dead col-

la .

as‘laJon’t shoot—don’t shoot 1” he wailed. " I
won’t hurt you!” .

“ There’s only one way to save your life,” said
Zigzag. in his most terrible manner. seeing how
completely the fellow was c‘owed; “ will you do

“ I’ll do anything you want me to. Oh, what
will become of my family?”
4 “ You ought to have thou ht of that before '
you went in with this ga'ng; ut it isn‘t too late
new to save your carcass.’ ‘
“ Oh, please tell me what you want me to do
—please tell me and liwill do it.”
‘ Those four men that were in there a few
minutes ago ” said the detective, lowerin his
istol and in icatin the room by a jerk 0 his
end, “ have gone own the trap-door and are
in the pit below.” .
“ Yes—yes—ves."
“ You must help get them out.” ,
" I’ll do it—I’ll do it--only show me the way."
“ Come on.” \ i
The next minute the two entered the apart~
merit where Fred Melville and Cutt Whitney in
no little excitement were awaiting them. \
The look- that passed between the defective ’
and Ben J ones, when the two reco ized each
other brought a smile to the face of ' sag, who
understood all the circumstances.
But neither spoke.
“ Is there any way of fasteni
cler asked Zigzag, of the ten-i
" Only by settin’ on it.” V .
"Well, sit there then.” . \ ' .
Ben Jones stepped briskly forward and took
his seat on the trap-door. ‘ r
“ They’re fast now,” he said, with a ghostly
grin, “ as much as if an elefunt was standiu ’in
my place.” , ’
t looked as if in one sense the task of the de-
tectives and Fred Melville was finished err-other
had come to a standstill: for the burglars, being
imprisoned, had onlyJ to be held where they were
until starved into su mission. I 4 ' s.
The most desperate set or men caughtat 1*

down this
farmer. '

 

 

 

 

Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

2'7

 

 

frightful disadvantage as they, would really be :
at the mercy of a single officer, who, standing !
back in the apartment could pick them off as I
fast as they showed their heads at the opening,
provided permission was given them thus to
show their heads.

“ Mr. Jones,” said Zigzag, as he took his seat;
“ have you ever been down through that door?"

“ Never in all my life.”

“ You don’t know how big the apartment
down there is?”

“ I have no idea.”

“ If we three should leave you here, will you
keep it fastened down till we come back again?”

“ I’ll do so if I get shot for it.”

“ You’ll get shot if you don’t do as I tell you.”

All the same, however, Zigzag had no inten-
tion of putting so much responsibility on the
shoulders of their new recruit.

“ I want to ask you another question,” con—
tinued the detective in his most impressive man—
ner, “ and you know how important itis for you
to s eak the truth.”

“ ’11 do it—you can depend onto that, dead
sure.”

“ Where’s the money those scamps stole from
the Asheville Bank last week?”

“ My good gracious! do you s’pose they’d let
me know; I haven’t any more idee than you
have.”

It could scarcely be doubted that Ben Jones
was telling only simple facts.

“ No, I know that you are truthful, for it
wouldn’t do for you to tr to deceive me.”

At this moment, Fred elville, who had been ,
moving restlessly about the apartment, stepped
up to Zigzag and asked in an undertone:

“You know how anxious I am to get away
for awhile: it doesn’t look as if there is anything
for me to do here; can you spare me?”

“ By all means, go at once.”

“ Thank you,” was the fervent response of the
young man, who quickly passed out of the
apartment into the hall and then through the
outer door.

Along the narrow, darkened lane he ran as if
on the wings of the wind.

Let the others hunt for the stolen money and
the guilty parties who stole it; bu felt that be
had a task on hand of a. thouand-fold more im—
portance.

Meanwhile, Zigzag and Whitney found their
job anything but pleasant. While impelled by
the fiercest excitement, the had suddenly come
to a halt, and it looked as i they might be com-
polled to stay where they were for hours if not

or days.

It would have been the hight of foolhardi-
ness for them to venture into the dark pit under-
neath Oak Hall where no doubt the desperate
men would be g ad to welcome them with a vol-
ley that would riddle both.

There really seemed but the one thing to do—
send for hel and smoke them out.

“ Wal, I’l be consarned 1" suddenly exclaimed
Ben J ones, who was beginning to recover some-
thing of his self-possessmn; “if I didn’t forglt
one thing.” '

“ What’s that?”

“ You must excoos me, for I forgot as sure as
a gun.”

“Forgot what?’ demanded 'the half-angered
Zigzag, rightly suspecting that the other had
something important to to l.

“ Why, this ain’t a room exactly that’s under
the house, but a sort of passage-way that leads
out toward the lake. I reckon it was built so
that if any of ’em ever got cornered here in the
house they could scoot out to the water and slip
off that way. Sorry I forgot to tell you about
it afore, but I reckon them fellers are gone 1”

CHAPTER XXXVI.
“ AT LAST! AT LAST 1” I
WHEN Aaron Buckholtz assured his friend,
Asaph Ashman, in the city of New York, that,
although the fair prisoner, Miss Gladys Linden,
had escaped from Oak Hall, she was still as safe
and as much in their power as ever, he spoke the

truth.

On that fearful night, when she fled from the
building as from the presence of the plague it—
self, she expected to spend the remaining hours
of darkness in the g oomy woods that were so
conveniently at hand. ,

But she could not do that after all There was
something in the dense gloom, the sighing night
wind and the ghostly gures that seemed to be
flitting all about her that would not allow her to
remain still. _ .

She stopped several times, but, impelled by
her terror, she pushed on as a person will do
when under the influence of a panic.

She followed no defined course, but kept on—
on—on until unexpectedly to herself she emerged
into the open fields again. .

Pausing for a moment, she caught the glim-
mer of a light but a short distance away.

‘ They must be friends,” she said to herself,

“ for the only enemies I have in the world are in
Oak Hall.” I _

The distressed lady was warranted in believmg

 

 

 

that no one would offer her anything but kind-
ness and she made her way without hesitation
to the dwelling. She did not remember ever to i
have seen the place before, but, she knocked '

loudly at the door and begged the privilege of
sta ing all night.

er summons was anewered by a kind look—
ing lady who hastened to give her the sucnor
she needed. She said that her husband was
away but she was in momentary expectation of
his return.

Gladys was so wearied that she could hardly
stand, and, despite her fright, she was scarcely
in the bed to which the good hearted hostess
helped place her, when she sunk into a deep
sleep that last d far into the next day.

A strange fate had led the footsteps of the
wanderer to the home of Ben Jones, who sus-
pected her identity the moment he heard the
facts from his wife. He had seen the popular
Miss Linden so often in Asheville, that a stolen
peep through the door confirmed his suspicion,
and he hurried oif to Oak Hall, with the inter-
esting news to Buckholtz.

This, it will be borne in mind, was on the
Saturday succeeding the bank robbery and ab—
duction.

Buckholtz was in favor of bringing the lady
back to Oak Hall and probably would have done
so, had he not learned shortly after that she
was quite ill from her sufferings and exposure.
Indeed, during the day, she became so flighty as
to require constant attendance and care.

A consultation of several of the gang led to
the decision that under the circumstances it was
better to keep the lady where she was. None of
her friends would dream of looking there for
her and Ben Jones with the help of his wife
could easily prevent any one learning her where-
abouts.

The fact of the lady’s illness changed the cur-
rent of incidents that had been provided for. If
she were taken back to Oak Hall, the probabili-
ties were that the transfer would be injurious,
if not fatal to her. Besides, she required some
lady attendant, und, since the wife of Ben Jones
was the only one to whom the criminals dare
apply, the same attention would be given the
patient where she was, without the additional
risk of changing her tarrying—place.

Still further, the fact must not be lost sight of
that the scheme for the ransoming of Miss
Gladys had already taken such definite form
that it was not believed it would be necessary to
detain her beyond a day or two more at the
furthest.

Ben Jones was so alarmed by the effect of the
threatened complication upon him that he insist—
ed upon calliug a physician at once. If Miss
Linden should die in his house, he verily believed
3e vzould be hanged for participation in her

eat .

Bu‘ his wife assured him that the lady’s illness
was not serious, and succeeded in persuading
him to wait until Sunda . On the afternoon of
that day she was so muc better that the farmer
was convinced that she was out of all danger.

On Monda Miss Linden was entirely herself,
and insiste upon asking scme exceedingly
troublesome questions.

She was made with some difficulty to believe
the story that had been pre ared for her ears.

It was Saturday instea of Sunday, and as
soon as she wasalittle stronger she would be
taken to her home in Asheville. Her friends
there had been acquainted with her experience,
and had called to see her, among them her
uncle, Tudor Carew, and Fred Melville. Since
the doctor had given orders for her not to be
disturbed, and she was asleep at the time, they
merely looked into the room at her and too
their departure, promising to call the next day.

On Monday, Gladys was entirely recovered.
She insisted upon being taken home at once, but
Mrs. Jones made the good plea that she was en-
tirely alone in the house and could not go away
without leaving some one to look after it.

Her husband was absent, the two little boys
of whom he had told Mr. Cutt Whitney during
their confidential chat in Asheville being among
the remote possibilities of the future. It seeme
reasonable to expect her own friends to take her
home, and when Monday night closed in without
any sign of them, poor Gladys was almost heart—
broken.

She spent the evening in writing letters to her
uncle and aunt, to her dear friends Amy and
Ada Walsingham of Ravenswold, and last of all
to Fred Melville, Mr. Jones promising to have
them forwarded to Asheville at the earliest mo-
ment.

It was the failure to see or hear from her be-
loved that crushed the lady. He had been the
one prominent figure in all the wild fancies that
racked her brain in her moments of delirium,
and she was sure that he would lose no time in
hastening to her.

Little comfort was there in the story that he
had been there and had looked upon her uncon-
scious face. She had not seen him; she had not
felt the warm pressure of his hand, nor the fer-
vent tonch of his lips against her own, nor the
sweet, enchanting words that only he knew how
to whisper in her ear.

“ Why does he not come?”

This was the question which she asked herself
so many times and over which she worried and
distressed herself so much that she was in danger
of throwing herself into a fever again.

It required the sternest manner of Mrs. Jones

 

to prevent her setting out for home after Mon-
day ni ht had closed in.

But or the positive promise that she should
see her friends on the morrow, she would have
made the start even on foot.

“ I can’t stand this any longer,” said the dis-
couraged Mrs. Jones to her equally disgusted
husband; “if the folks down at Oak Hall want
to hold her a prisoner, why don’t they come and
take her away i"

“I ain’t very much in love with the business
myself,” replied Ben, “ and I give ’em to under-
stand tliat this ain’t a part of the Contract.”

“ What do they mean to do to-morrow?"

“ Why, they’ll send the some carriage and
make her believe they’re goin‘ to take her home,
but will run her back into the room that she
slipped out of jes’ ’cause that old Carew was
goo] enough to leave the door unlocked behind

im.

“ Do you think they can fool her a second
time? ot much, they can’t," said the lady
who had formed a highly favorable opinion of
the ability and will of the handsome young lady
under her care.

“They’ll have hard work Ikiiow, but, from
what llve heerd, the boys expect to send her
home to—morrow just as she has been promised.
The other part of the business is to be fixed to—
night, so they won’t have any more use for her
urter to-morrer mornin’.”

“ For gracmiis sake I hope it will he so, for
this is just wearing me out.’

Gladys was so confident that her friends would
come for her that evening that she refused to
retire. She sat in the little parlor of Ben Jones’s
house, silent and thoughtful, nervous and ex-
pectant and at times tearful and depressed.

Business called Ben away, as the reader has
learned long since, and when he came home late
at night, from his fruitless tram after the
valise and the money niider the hri go, she was
rocking back and forth while his wife was doz-
infi on another chair. .

en glanced at the two without speaking,
then went up stairs to his own apartment.

“ If they want to set up all night I don't care;
there’s nothin’ mean about me and I won't hin-
der ’em.”

The sight of the signal-lantern from Oak Hall
brought Ben down again, and he slipped out
without being noticed by the dozin couple.

Gladys had kept her senses muc better than
her attendant, but she now sunk into a slumber
which was marked by such tronblous dreams
that it brought no refreshment to her.

She saw her lover hurrying along a dark,
lonely road, with arms outstretched to clasp her,
while some frightful ogre held her back. He
called to her, and, when she strove to answer,
she could not speak above a whisper. She strug-

led and toiled and finally broke away and
ouuded to her feet.

She stared about her in the dimly lit room be-
fore sbe could realize where she was.

She saw that Mrs. Jones was sound asleep, for
she breathed heavily With her head far over the
back of her chair and did not move.

“Fred is searching for me, I know,” gasped
Gladys, drawing her shawl close] about her:
“ he is flying over the road, and must, I will
meet him.”

She rose noiselessly to her feet and opened the
door. A furtlve glance to the rear showed that
Mrs. Jones was still unconscious.

The next minute, Gladys Linden was on the
public highway, spreding in the direction of
Asheville.

Suddenly, the figure of a man loomed to
Kiew in the moonlight, walking rapidly toward

er.

At any other time, she would have fled; now
she hastened toward him with flying feet and
outstretched arms.

I ‘hlfred, is it you? Yes—it is you—at last! at
as

“ Gladysl—my own—my love l—my life l—God
be praised l”

And Fred Melville flung his arms around the
willowy, ielding form and held her close and
tight aga ust his heart of hearts.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
“rim GAME is or!”

ZIGZAG, the detective, was so infuriated at
hearing Ben J ones’s announcement that the trap-
door in Oak Hall led to an underground passage.
that he was half-tempted to wing him with his
revolver.

.While the two officers were confident that the
birds had been caged, they had been quietly
making their way throu ll the passage to the
outer air and in all probe ility were at that mo-
ment far away.

But it was apparent to both Zigzag and Whit-
ney that the farmer in his nic, had actually
forgotten that highly impo nt piece of infor-
mation.

“ Sta. here and watch this passage!" thun-
dered igzag; “if you allow them to get back
through this door, you are a dead man.”

‘f My gracious! you needn't be afeerd of me
dom’ that,” (altered Ben, pressing down with all
his might on the door and wishing that it could
hag: been his privilege at that moment to weigh
a n.

save-3a..—

 

28

“ Tell us where the mouth of this infernal
tunnel is,” commanded the officer, stopping
short as he and Whitney were about to dash out
of the door. '

“ Go straight toward the lake; there’s a clump
of bushes that you’ll see leanin’ over the water;
they hide the o ening that leads from the room
down—stairs; 1 you hurry I think ou’ll git
there ahead of ’em, for it’s slow wor ' creepin’
through the tunnel.”

“ There’s precious little chance of our reach-
ing the outlet first,” growled Whitney, placing
his hand on the knob of the door.

“ Mr. Whitney,” said Zigzag, sharply, “ you
will stay outside by the door, where you can
hear everything that takes place in this room.
If this fellow attempts any game, or moves
from his position over the trap—door, you know
what to do.”

“There will be no trifling,” replied Whitney,
placing his hand on the handle of his revolver at

is hip.

Ben Jones. if possible, turned a shade paler,
and stammercd:

“ My graciousl you needn’t be afraid of
me '[77

In uttering this single order to his companion,
Zigzag accompanied it with a wink of the eye.
Cutt “ caught on” at once; it was a little game
of bluff which accomplished its purpose.

In all probability, the farmer was in earnest,
but it was well to let him believe he was dis-
trusted. Zigzag had no intention of leaving his
al%as a guard, While he went after the others.

hitney led the way out into the hall, with
Zigzag at his heels, and the next instant they
left the house by the front door.

“It’s a pity we let Melville go,” said the
former.

“ He was so anxious to see the young lady

that he couldn’t be restrained any longer. Now, ,
' them all.”

Cutt, we must move lively; see that your pistols
and handcuffs are ready.”

“ They are; lead the way."

At the risk of colliding with some of the tree-
trunks where the shadows were so dense, they
broke into a trot which became a run. as they
emerged from the grove surroundin Oak Hall,
and sped across the open field towar the gleam-
ing surface of the pond, which was not far
away.

Fortune, which seemed to frown upon the
brave officers, now turned in their favor.

They had not gone far, before they caught
sight of the clump of bushes on the margin of
the water.

“That must be the spot,” whispered Whitney
increasing his pace, so that he was slightly in
the lead.

The next minute they halted beside the clump
of undergrowth, the fine ph sical condition of
both showing itself in the act that there was
scarcely a perceptible increase in their respira-
tion.

“I’m afraid we are too late,” muttered Zig-
zag, who had drawn his pistol.

“ ’Sh! there is some one!"

Both crouched down beside the bushes, like a
couple of wild beasts about to spring upon their

prey.

The figures of two men crept into view at
that moment, in a. steeping position on the other
side of the screen.

“ I uess we give ’em the slip after all," said
one w th 8. sava e oath.

“ It was a c ose call,” remarked the other,
“ and, the rest of the boys mustn’t lose any
time.‘

Zigzag touched the arm of Whitney and
whis cred:

ll ow l 7' '

As if propelled by a powerful s rin -board,
the two ofiicers seemed ,to bound irec 1y over
the to of the bushes, and landing on the
amaze knaves struck each a blow on the head
with the butts of their revolvers.

The crack meant “ business” of the most
serious kind. and the couple went over as sense-
less as if their lives were knocked from their
bodies.

A dull click followed, and in an instant the
wrists of the two were securely fastened by
patent handcuffs. Messrs. Matt Hardy and

ack Tovey were as completely hors du combat
as though they had been tried, sentenced an
locked up in the nitentiary.

Zigzag and W itney each seized his man by
the shoulders and drag ed him back behind the
bushes where they won d not attract the notice
of any others emerging therefrom.

They were not a moment too soon.

“ Helical” called some one from the dark
throat of the tunnel. “ is it all right there?”

“ Yes,” replied Zigzag, disguising his voice as
well as he could; “ hurry up 1”

“ We’re lucky, after all; I don’t want to run
another such chance as that; it all comes—-"

Before Mr. Aaron Buckholtz could complete
the sentence, he went backward a dozen feet,
driven by the fist of Cutt Whitney, who deliv-
ered the blow for all he was worth.

I That which followed was not without its hu
morons feature. v _

With the same astonishing dekterity the
handcuffs were clicked fast around the wrists
of the miscreant', before he could rally from

the daze into which he was thrown by the
crushing blow.

But directly behind Buckholtz was Jud Dal-
rymple, who saw that something was wrong.

He was in the act of emerging from the mouth
of the tunnel, when he whiried about and en-
tered it again to escape the officers whose iden—
tity he knew from their actions.

Zigzagl caught sight of him and broke the
silence t at had marked the lively scufl'ling by
a sharp command:

“ Halt! the game is up!”

But Jud was too terrified to halt. He was re-
solved to secure the refuge of the tunnel, even if
it was only for a brief while.

In his effort to get back, he stumbled forward
on his hands and knees. Without waiting to
rise, he began furiously crawling into the open-
1

ng.

“ Halt! I tell you, or I’ll fire!”

Zigzag did not content himself with discharg-
ing his revolver over the head of the panic—
stricken fellow, but shoving his weapon back in
his pocket, be seized one of the ankles of Dal-
rymple. and, bracing himself, tugged with might
and main to draw him from the hole.

But Dalrymple had already secured a good
hold with his hands, and the strength of one
man was insufficient to bring him forth. He
pulled like a erson who knew his life was at
stake, and to a d to the interest of the occasion,
began yelling like a wild Indian.

Not only that, but a mule could not have ex-
ercised his leg with more ai‘dor than did Dal-
rymple use his free one. Clinging fast with
both hands to the sides of the entrance, he
kicked furiously, pulled savagely and shouted
vociferonsly.

“ Cuttl” called Zigzag, shaking with laughter,
“as soon as you are through with that chap,
help me here. This is the toughest customer of

Whitney ran to the assistance of his friend,

and after receiving some sharp kicks about the
hands and arms, managed to get hold of the
oghir leg, that was beating the air like a drum-
s 10 .
Both feet of Dalrymple were now in the grasp
of his enemies, and though he tried desperately
to kick himself free, he could not. He, there—
fore, pulled the harder with his two hands,xand
it looked for a moment as if he would draw the
two oflicers into the tunnel‘after him.

But the heaviest artillery was on the other
side. Zigzag and Whitney suppressed their
mirth, secured a brace for their feet, and, com—
pressing their lips, drew back with might and
main.

“ Suppose we pull his legs off?” whis red
Whitney, with mock alarm. De

The suggestion set Zigzag laughing to that ex-
tent that he lost his hold and received a kick on
the shoulder which flung him upon his back.

Then Whitney laughed, and onl by the nar-
rowest possible chance prevents Judson Dal-
rymple from getting off altogether. He re-
doubled his efforts and his outcries were loud
enough to be heard a mile away.

But the kick which Zigzag received sobered
him, and springing to his feet, he again seized
the recalc1traut limb of Dalrymple, who the
next moment was drawn yelling into the moon-
light, where the last pair of handcuffs at the
command of the ofllcers were snapped about his
wrists.

“ There’s one left,” said Whitney, looking
around at the four men whom they had secured
with such cleverness.

“ Yes, and there’s no likelihood that he will
follow the others out of the tunnel: the elping
of this coward has given him the alarm if noth-
ing else has and he will not show himself.”

“ It’s only a question of time, for he is caged.”

“ Yes, and won't it make a sensation when the
truth leaks out to—morrow? But these scamps
are coming to their senses and we shall have a.
serenade, when the four find they have fallen
into the clutches of two officers ' of the law.
Helloal What does that mean?"

The exclamation was caused by the sudden
discovery that there were new arrivals on the
scene.

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
CONCLUSION.

BY one of those rare good freaks of fortune
which occasionally come to us in this world. a
party of young men returning from a social
gathering were assing along the public high-
way near Oak all at the time of the detective’s
lively tussle with the bank burglars.

There were three stalwart youths, who were
riding in an open wagon and verifying by the
-tardiness of their progress the truth of the
rollicking song they were chanting, in which
the) gave it as their conviction that they would
not Go Home till Morning.

Full of anima life and spirits, these likely
young fellows were always deli hted at the
prospect of‘a lark. The sound 0 pistol-firing
and the shouts of some one who seemed to have
his head in a barrel. caused them to draw their

 

horse to one side, and clambering over the fence,
: they ran in the direction of the rumpus, eager
to take a. hand in the same.

 

Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

The detectives were delighted to see them, and
quickly explained how they could make ten dol-
lars apiece by driving back to Asheville with
the four men as passengers.

Since it was impossible that one vehicle should
contain the whole party or one horse draw them
all, it was arranged that the four prisoners
should ride while one of the young men drove,
the rest (with an exception to be named imme-
diately) walking at the side of the team.

Of course there were all kinds of ranting,
threats and protests on the part of the
criminals, but it did them no good. The young
fariners’ sons were so pleased over the prospect
of making ten dollars apiece in addition to the
prospect of being mentioned in complimentary
terms in the Asheville Weekly Banner, that
they would have been willing to carry the pris—
oners on their backs the entire distance.

As it was, they asked the privilege of “ punch-
ing the heads” of the captives on eneral JI‘lIl-
ciplcs, just to show their good wil towar the
gentlemen that had employed them.

A brief while after the wholesale capture, the
strange procession started back to Asheville,
with two of the young men and Cutt Whitney
acting as an escort.

They reached town in the small hours of the
morning and safely delivered the prisoners to
the authorities, who placed them in secure con-
finement.

Zigzag did not go with the company but left
the management of it to Cutt Whitney, while
he remained behind.

It will be borne in mind that the fifth and
mOSt important member of the gang had not
yet been taken. Zigzag intended to make sure
of him.

After seeing Whitney and the rest safely
off, he hurried back to Oak Hal], plunging in
through the door in such haste that poor Ben
Jones shook like an aspen leaf, when he caught
sight of the dreaded officer.

“ I—I—declare,” he whimpered, “ I hain’t
stirred off this door since you’ve been gone.”

“ That’s all right; I haven’t any fault to find,"
was the reassming response: “ have you heard
or seen anything worth telling?”

“ I ain’t sure, but a few minutes ago I thought
i felt some one pushin’, on the under side of the
trapdoor as though he wanted to come up."

‘ Did he say anything?”

“ If he did I didn’t hear him; I made believe
I wasn’t here and bime—by the pushin’ stopped.”

“You have done well; now if on will liizht
the lamp in the hall and bringi to me, I’ll be
obliged.’

Ben Jones s rung from his cramped ition,
dashed out an speedily returned With t e lamp
read for use.

“ hall I go with you?" asked the fellow, as
the detective raised the door.

.“ You may if you please: you can carry the
li ht while I follow; don’t go too fast.”

he two descended into an open space some
six feet square, and immediately entered a
tunnel-like passage some five feet high and hard-
ly half as wide. Both were obliged to stoop,
but the lamp gave enough illumination to allow
them to advance with certainty.

“Walk slowly,” said Zigzag, “ for I am look-
in for some stolen property."

0 had not told his guide that one of the gang
was still in the tunnel, and that he intended to
rout him out. Had he done so, Ben Jones would
not have been so anxious to lead the way.

The detective had no wish to place the fellow
in a position of danger which should have been
occu )ied by himself; but he did not believe that
anyt ing was to be feared from the party whom
he was so anxious to secure.

“ So vou didn’t have any trouble with ‘em’f”
asked Jones, who, now that he was acting the
part of a guide, began to feel free to converse on
something like familiar terms with his master.

“None at all; we just piled them into the
wagon and sent them to Asheville, where they
will soon be jogged.” ‘

“ My gracious!” exclaimed Jones, “ but I
Ehtiluggit they would make the worst kind of a

g t.

“ Men that are caught in crime are cowards.”

“ Do you think.” asked the guide, with some
hesitation, looking around over his shoulder,
“ that it’ll go very hard with—with—me if”

“ That depends on what you have done: I
don’t think you are in as had a fix as the rest,
but no doubt you will have, justice done you.”

Poor Ben Jones might have answered that that
was precisely What he feared.

“ The best plea that'you can make was that'you
were victimized by these scamps and made their
tool. True, the plea will be a virtual admission
that you are a fool, but I am sure you will have
£10 difficulty in convincing the jury of that

act.

“ You are very kind, and I hope—”

The parties had passed about two-thirds the
way through the tunnel, when Ben Jones
emitted a frenzied yell, and leaped back ward
with such vigor that he almost carried Zigzag
off his feet.

“ What the mischief is the matter?” demanded
the angered oflicer, rubbing his bruised nose.

“ A dead man lays there in the path.”

“ If he is dead he can’t hurt you. Let me

, .

-4. A

...._...-.o....¢.s..n._. . .

 

 

 

ms MD?-

.-a 4"

Zigzag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives.

29

 

have the light,” commanded Zigzag, compelling
the fellow to squeeze himself behind him.

Advancing carefully a few steps with the lamp
held in front and above his crouching form,
Zigzag ’saw the figure of a man stretched length-
wise along the tunnel. I _

The first glimpse identified him as Tudor
Carew, President of the Asheville Bank, and a
brief examination showed that Ben Jones was
ri ht in declaring him dead. _ I

ith a feeling of awe which Zigzag was un-
accustomed to, even in the presence of death, he
set the lamp down beside the body of the banker
and examined it more closely. _

Worst of all Tudor Carew had taken his own
life. Finding himself cornered at last, he had
sent a bullet into his left breast, aimed With such
skill that his death must have been instantane-
ous.
“ I am glad Jones is with me,” was the thought
of the detective, “ otherwise I mi ht have had
trouble in provmg that I did not re the shot.”

Beside the revolver with its single empty bar-
rel, was a locked tin box, eight inches wide and
more than a foot long. Forcing the lid, the
officer saw that it was full of bank—bills and
several rolls of gold- ieces.

“ That=s some of t e boodle from the bank,"
he concluded, raising it from the ground and
noticmg that it was quite heavy; “ here, Jones,
take the lamp and lend the way back to the
house.” I I

“ Whatavhat—are you goin to do With him?"
stuttered the terrified guide, is hand trembling
so that he could hardly hold the lamp that was
passed to him.

“ Can’t you take him over your shoulder and
carry him back!"

The man’s knees smote each other at the aw-
ful suggestion, and the oflicm‘ hastened to say:

“ We will leave him where he is for the pres-
ent; it can do him no harm nor good.”

Emer iug once more into the small room in
Oak Ha I from which they had descended, Zig—
zag deliberately sat down and counted the con-
tents of the tin box which he had captured. He
found it a number of thousand dollars short of
the sum which had been taken from the vaults
of the bank the previous week.

“ That represents what he blew in while in
New York,” was the correct conclusion of the
detective, who turned toward the dazed com—
panion and said, “You have a team, haven’t
you?" '

“ I have; it’s at your serVIcc."

“ I will go home with you; it is so late that I
will stay till morning, and then engage you to
take me to Asheville.”. .

Ben Jones was glad to do this for the man who
showed his good will by handing him another
good-sized greenback from hls own private
funds.

Reachin the house of the farmer, they found
that Fred elville, after his meeting With Gla-
dys Linden.'had returned to the house, where
the two, having exchanged their deeply-inter-
csting experiences and re eated their sweet
vows, had withdrawn to their rooms for the rest
of the hi ht.

The to lowing morning, the lady was taken to
her home by the same conveyance that carried
her lover and detective Zigzag to the town,
which, as may be supposed, was in a ferment of
excitement over the astounding news.

 

We doubt not that the intelli ent reader has
anticipated, to a large extent, 1: e explanations
which it is now our duty to make. . .

Tudor Carew, Warren Carew his twm bro-
ther, and Asaph Ashman were one _and the
same rson. The respected bank preSident was
one 0})“ those remarkable individuals who, alas!
are too numerous in these days, who led a
double, if not a triple, life. It is worth noting,
also, that when acting one of these characters,
he referred before his associates to each .of the
others, as though they were really different
individuals from his real self.

At home he was a rapected business man, and
a leadin oflicial in the oldest church in Ashe-
ville. ot a whisper was ever heard in that
sleepy town against his probity and uprightness.
Even the wife of his bosom believed as thorough-
ly in him as did his sweet, pure-minded niece.

All the same, he was an arch hypocrite, whose
pretended business trips. to n were blinds
to cover his periodical dlSSIpathnS'in the metrop-
olis, where he was one of the Wildest revelers
and most abandoned knaves of the great city.

The robbery of theAshevflle Bank was his own
carefully prepared scheme, carried out With an
ingenuity that would have been successful in
nine cases out of ten. _ '

The most heinous crime of which he was ilt
was his plot to throw suspicion upon Fro Me -
ville, a young gentleman who never thought or
did a wrong act in all his life. But for the.skill
and ability of the detectives Zigzag and Whitney
he might have succeeded in landing lull] in the
penitentiary and disgracing him for life.

But the cipher, which first gave the officers the
clew, was in his handwriting. The fact that he
Opened the ledger of the bank, and that Whit-
ney, in his first essay, looked no further than
that page, turned his suspicion of the officer for

' a time toward the young man, but it- quickly re-
verted to the guilty party.

The communication received by Tudor Carew
demanding fifty thousand dollars for the ransom
of his niece, was also his own work, as Whitney
discovered while he sat in the banker’s own
house reading the missive.

The miscreant’s dissipation and gambling ro-
Eeiisities had led him to appropriate the fun set
is niece to an extent that forced him to desper
ate measures to cover up his peculation. He in—
tended to make it appear that he had paid the
large sum named for her freedom, knowing that
she would insist upon reimbursing him for the
vast outlay, and having been assured by Cutt
Whitney (who penetrated his purpose) that pub-
lic sentiment and law would sustain such a
course, his plan had the merit of ingenuity even

without a semblance of justice.

As Cutt Whitne stated, in discussing the mat-
ter with Zigzag, t e banker need not have made
such a full pretense of carrying out his art of
the agreement, sincean empty valise wou d have
answered as well as one with the worthless pack-
age of paper; but it may be said that he neglects

no precaution.

He foresaw the remote possibility that the bag
might fall into unfriendly hands (since he coul
not be absolutely certain that the detective
would keep his romise to abstain from inter-
ference) and he anoied that the presence of the
package would strengthen his claim that the
money had been abstracted by interested
parties.

As it afterward appeared, the money taken
from the vaults of the bank was carried away in
the tin box by Buckholtz and was on the seat
With the driver Jud Duli'ymple, when he drove
Gladys Linden to Oak Hull. It was hidden be-
neath that building, after he and Carew had ab—
stracted several thousand for their personal use
while on their visit to the metropolis. The box
remained undisurbed until Monday night, the
time appointed for the final division.

Tudor Cai‘ew, who was accepted as the leader,
had raised the trap-door and was in the act of
descending into the small underground apart-
ment, when the officers were hear entering the
front of the house. v

Instantly the lights were extinguished and the
other four men followed Carew into the tunnel.
There, unfortunately for them, they halted, un-
decided what to do.

Hopeful that their retreat would not be dis-
covered, they waited until the officers should de-
part. The raising of the trap-door by Zi zag
convinced them of their ef‘l‘Ol‘,'ulld pausing ong
enough to make sure their shots had done no ex-
ecution, they began groping their way to the
opening.

Tudor Cai‘ew clun to the box and was at the
rear of the party. e was close to Dalrym le,
the last one, when his shouts apprised him t at
the officers were at the opening. He instantly
turned about to retrace his steps, and no doubt
did push against the trap-door. The weight of
Ben Jones prevented its opening, and he turned
back once more. a ‘

While gropin his way to the mouth of the
tunnel, he must ave awakened to the fact that;
as Zigzag expressed it, the “game was up.”
Realizing that exposure, which was a. thousand
times worse than death, was inevitable, he had
recourse to the eXpedient of cowards and took
his own life.

The sensation produced by the discovery of
this man’s double life proved a national one and
was commented on in the leadin papers of the
country. The blow almost kille his widow and
his niece. Indeed, the former never recovered
and quietly passcd away within a year of the
death of her husband.

It seemed incredible to many that, in addition
to the burglary of his bank, he should have
planned the abduction of his own niece for the
purpose of securing a large sum of money: but
there can be no doubt that such was the fact.

It was the characteristic of the man that he
should enter the apartment of the young lady in
Oak Hall, only slightly chan ed in appearance
and claim to be the twin brot er of himself. At

cerning her. Buckholtz had promised him a
still larger sum if he would secure the hand of
the young lady for him, and Carew romised to
do it. He opened the way during t 6 first in-
terview, by appealing to her affection for him,
but he was checked by.her evident devotion to
her lover, and he passed out of the room to tell
Buckholtz that he did not believe it possible to
carry out that part of their wicked programme.

Buckholtz much against his will, was forced
to agree with him, at that interview, although
he did not entirely relinquish hope. The exi-
Eencies of the Situation resulting from the bank

urglary, however, forced him to defer sevaral
important steps which he had in mind. The
forgetfulness of Carew in leaving the door of her
room unsecured, by which she escaped, compli-
cated matters still further. But she was known
to be at Ben Jones’s house. and after securing
his share of the spoils, Buckholtz determined on
heroic measures. ‘

But Providence interfered and the dreadful
schemes came to naught.

All four of the captured bank burglars re-

 

that time, he had more frightful schemes con-'

 

ceived long terms in the Penitentiary and Cutt
Whitne and Zigzag departed for new fields of
labor. iien Jones, through their good offices.
escaped punishment, since it was uite evident
that he was only a tool in the ban s of cunning
and designing men; but the fright which he re-
ceived resulted in his becoming so upright in his
demeanor forever afterward that it may be said
he leaned backward.

Although Tudor Carew had made serious in-
roads on the fortune of Gladys Linden, there was
still a goodly sum left, and when, a few months
later, she became the bride of Fred Melville,
there was none in all Asheville who had a more
queen] dower than she.

The zippy Fred might have abandoned hard
work for the rest of his life; but he was a sensi—
ble youth, and applied himself with such dili~
gence that, two years later, he became cashier
of the bank, and at the very last meetin of the
directors he was elected to the honorab e posi<
tion of head of the institution whose capital at
the same meeting was increased to one million
dollars.

And so, all‘s well that ends well.

THE END.

 

BEADLE AND ADAMS’

STANDARD DIME PUBLICATIONS

Speakers.

Each volume contains 100 large pages. printed
from clear, open type, comprising the best collec-
tion of Dialogues. Dramas and Recitations.

The Dime Speakers embrace twenty—five volumes
viz.:

 

 

1. American Speaker. 15. Komikal Speaker.

2. National Speaker. Iii. Youth's S maker.

3. Patriotic Speaker. if. Eloqui-iit s' weaker.

4. Comic Speaker. 18. Iiuil (‘oluni in Speak-
5. Elociitionist. er.

6. Humorous Speaker. 19. Sr-i‘io-(‘oniic Speaker.
’2'. Standard Speaker. ‘20. Select S weaker.

8. Stump Speaker. 21. Funny Speaker.

9. Juvenile Speaker. '32. Jolly Speaker.

10. Spread-Eagle Speaker ‘23. Dialect Speaker.

11. Dune Delmter. ‘34. Recitations and Read-
12. Exhibition Speaker. ings.

 

13. School Speaker. I 25. Burlesque Speaker

14. Ludicrous Speaker.

These books are replete with choice pieces for the
School-room, the Exhibition. for Homes, etc. 75 to
100 Declamations and Recitations in each book.

Dialogues.

The Dime Dialogues. each volume 100 pages. em-
brace thirty-flve books. viz.:

Dialogues No. One. Dialogues No. Eighteen.
Dialogues No. Two. Dialogues No. Nineteen.
Dialogues No. Three. Dialogues No. Twenty.
Dialogues No. Four. Dialogues No. Twenty-one.
Dialogues No. Five. Dialogues No. Twenty-two.
Dialogues No. Six. Dialogues No. Twenty-three.
Dialogues No. Seven. Dialogues No. Twenty-four.
Dialogues No. Eight. Dialogues No. Twenty-five.
Dialogues No. Nine. Dialogues No. Twenty-six.
Dialogues No. Teri. DialoguesNoJl‘went -seven.
Dialogues No. Eleven. Dialogues No. Twen y-el ht.
Dialogues N 0. Twelve. Dialogues No. Twenty-n no.
Dialogues No. Thirteen. Dialogues No. Thirty.
Dialogues No. Fourteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-one.
Dialogues N0. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-two.
Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-three.
Dialogues No.Seventeen Dialo es No. Thirty-four.
Dialogues No. T irty-flve.

15 to 26 Dialogues and Dramas in each book.

Dramas and Readings.

164 l2ino Pages. 20 Cents.

For Schools, Parlors. Entertainments and the Ain-
ateur Stage, coniprisin Original Minor Dramas.
Comedy, Farce. Dress eces, Humorous Dialogue
and Burlesque, by noted writers: and Recitation
and Readings, new i iid standard. of the reaielt
celebritvand interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. unsell.

DIME HAND-BOOKS.

Young People’s Series.

BEADLI'SMDIME Hugo-Backs ma Youna Paoru:
cover a w e range 0 an 'ects. niii a' '
adapted to their end. J t w abpecmll’
Ladies' Letter-Writer.
Gents‘ letter-Writer
Book of Etiquette.
Book of Verses.

Book of Dreams.

 

Book of Games.
Fortune-Teller.
Lovers” Casket.
Ball-room Companion.
Book of Beauty.

Lives of Great Americans.

L—George Washington. VllI.—Israel Putnam.
IL —-John Paul Jones. X.—Tecumseh
[IL—MadAnthonyWayne
lV.—Ethan Allen. JUL—Pontiac.
V.—Marquis de Lafayette XIII.—.Ulysses S. Grant.

Manuals for Housewives.

1. Cook Book. 4. Family Physician
. Recipe Book. D k" ' -
8. Housekeeper's Guide. 11.533? mg and mu

m’l‘he above_hooks are sold by newsdealer.
everywhere, or Will be sent. postpaid. to any ad-
dress. on receipt-of price. ten cents each. Bnbu
AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William st., N. Y.

XL—Ahraham Lincoln

 

 

 

BEADLE’SrHALF-DIMErLIBRARY.

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete dnd Sold at the (Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

DY EDWARD L. WHEELER.
Deodwood Dick Noveie.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince oi the Reed.

90 Double Beggar: or, Dndwnod Dick’n Definite.

IS Bufl’ulo lien; or ndwood Dick in Dingulne.

85 Wild Ivan. the Day Clnude Duvni.

48 ‘huntom Miner; or, Dudwood Dick’e Bonuu.

Jillllin oil; or Deadwood Dick in Dunner.

-lendwood Me 'I Eagle" or, The Pnrde oi Flood Her.
8 )eodwood Dick on Deokt or. Culnmlty June,the Heroine.
‘i’ v. Ohnrllei or, Dendwood Dick'e Lest Ad.

I 0 we. run Dick in Lendi'ille.

lea [wood lllck'e Device: or, The Double Cronl Sign.

Deadwood Dick in Detective.

ve-e:w|l Dick‘s Doublei or. The Ghent or Gorgoh’e

Gulch.
188 Blunde Bill; or. Deadwood Dick’l Home Due.
149 A Game of Gold: or, Dendwuml Dick’n Big Strike.
1 lendwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Pnrt .
] Deadwood illelt’n Dreiimx or. '1 he RlVHlI of the Ron .
‘01 The Blank llllle Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick'n Werd.
'Detndwood Dick'n Doom; or, Cniumity .lnue’ii Lut Ad-
VGll “ru-
91? Captain Crock-Shot, the Girl Bri and.
231 [yufer-Ooated Saint or, The Blue Gown.
9" 1h) (l-DIII'. Dick. A Romance 0! Rough: end Tonghl.
Deadwood Dluk’e Dlvlde - or, The Spirit of‘Swnnip Luke.
Deadwood Diek’n Death rnll.
rzeinilwood Diek’n Big Deal; or. The Gold Brick oi

i'egun.

821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen 3 or. The Felilr ofPhentom Flute.
“7 Deadwood Dick’l Duoutu or. Rainy buys in the Dig-

Kll’lfll.
851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or. The Terrible Vendetta.
80$ Deadwood Diok‘l Claim; or, The Feiry Fun of Fnro

l' lute.
Deadwood Dir-k in Dead City.
)endwood Dlek’e Diamond-3 or. The Mystery of Joun

orter.
481 Deadwood Dick in New York: or, A “ Cute Cue."
480 Deadwood Dlek’n Duet: or, The Chained Hood.
448 Deadwood Dir-k, Jr.
Nickel-Plate N ed; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’e Definnce.
458 dinnilower 33in, or Shute; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’n Full

Hnud.
459 lnnh Fan, the Ferret: or, Dendwood Dick Jr’n Big Round-
‘65 Pilllo Fly. of Phenix; or, Deedwood Dick Jr’e Recket nt
Claim 10.

 

"nu;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  

4 Bill 3 or, Dehdwood Dick Jr’l Corr-ll.

476 Harry, the Hurricane} embed-cod Dick Jr'e
4;] or, Deadwood Dick J’ r. in Deadwood.

491 the King of the Went; or, Dudwood Dick
4" or, Deadwood Dick Jr’e Inheritenu.
m 'or,‘Dr. Denth-Grip’e Snoop.
508

516

rm...

Other Noni. by E. i. Wheeler. ‘

Clove-n Iloof, the Budnlo Demon.

Bel) Woolf; or, The Girl Deed-Shot.
Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York. . '
Avalanche or, Wild mine, the Girl kind.
Blind r., the Boy Phenk.

uckhorl B ghor. The Red Rifle Tenn,

1

trimmer-as a..-=......

5%

i“
a

h
l. the Girl inert or. Bouhud Rob on Hue.
“truth Phil; or, Rosebud Rob'e Beep
I g (l e" or, old Ahmed: in sitting dill'l Cup. I
tch-E e; or, Arehe and Angel. of: Greet City.
k lioy o the You“ Milton
.mnd Dick. the Sport Detective
the Girl Sport.

ll her.

one Bob the in. o! Bootblnch.
so“: 5.- the Boy lined-Agent.
‘31::- i‘enot. ‘he New York Deteetivq or, no. w.
New York Nell the Girl tin. '
1r ’” “1"”

hi Nick of “I T Sierra Snap.
i‘v’ne *3an the ii'u'emin'e‘ll’... °

F und- y Detective.

rite to the Front; or, The Venme Hutu.

lion-or the Buy Shem or. The Arab teetive.

Dill. the Trnll Torudo. .

0 ll". Kit. the Your: Gladiuor.

" rre grams. Prov: er Fflthm F “-
err. II can or e I

Item Don's Peril: lir. The Angel o’l’ mu

rro Del’e level or. The Stolen .

iI-ho loot the Bog. trol; or, The Riv Hell.

Denver Do the tectin Queen.

Denver Doll n Vietory. ' '

Denver Doii’e Decoy I or. Little nur- Inn“.

1 Turk. the Boy Ferret.

0"“
2": '3

$2“

2
l
‘e'
l
e
E

I,

' nee humour-mitt: «Th-nonde

' u. A No. 1, the Dullin. Toll-Teku.
[8.8 min Jon, the Girl Miner; or. the Irenoxerved Inert.
see Kaila, fliehyl 0... the Detective-elm,“

' r at Little Quiet-elm: ‘or. The Deed Fm «wt.

3.4 Kenmore. Kit; of. The M brim Miner.

no Kangaroo Kit“- Book

I“ loll-tu- XIke, the Bowery mood. I
“B [ltd-Oi... Fred, the Gent train Gopher.

“8  Jill. the Gold-Gatherer; or. The W, .1

If! Yrekn Jin’e Prue.

Vere he» lied! commas» City.

In Cool Kit. the new no; or. A yummy“.
.85 Yrekn Jln’e Joker; or, The Riv-lulled no...
’ I” Binnie Ben; or. The Lion of thinug 144.,
I“. Treks JI- of Yeah in...
em Wrinkles. the Night-WM w".

.' “amulet-mmnmnmm

“filo-mmw-Boym
mdhunll’nhl’rlnirm
“mlohhthm.
“filo-files”

u] fill the urn-heater: or.Thelio Deteeil
lie her, nxptNed,theKn ht. n. '

 

BY OOMNEL PRENTISS INGBAIIAH.

T The F in: Yonkeer or,The Ounn Outcm.
17 Ralph o g the Boy Buccaneer; or. The FII tive Yacht.
M Dlnlllon irlK or, The Myntnry oi the Yel owetoue.

d
6)) The Shadow ii tip; or. The Rive] Lieutnnnnu.
75 The no] 1,-0lll‘.‘ or, The Crulu oi the SeI‘Woll.
3 Dick Bend-Eve, the lloy Sniuflier.
l The Sen-Devil; or. The Midihlpnmn'e Lo ncy.
0 The lluunnr (la tuln; or, The Hermit 0 Hell Gate.
7 Little Grit: or, nie, the Stocle‘ender’e Diughter.
204 Gold Plume; or, The Kid—Glove Sport.
.16 "II-on Bill the Prince of the Reine.
SSS Grit. the l rnvo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer.
229 Crimean Knteé or, The Cowboy": Triumph.
287 Lone Star. this owhoy Cert-iii.
345 Merle the Middy or, he Freelance Hair.
850 The . Idelilpinun iitllieer; or. Brandt, the Buccnneer.
$04 The Floating Feather; or, Merle Monte’e Trenure

lllnnd.
289 The Gold Sill ; or, Merle, the Condemned. '
$76 giver»: Monte: Crulne; or, The Clhtle oi “The Gold
l »

. 1 .
2M) Merle Monte’e Fate: or. Penri, the Piruw’n Bride.

094 The Sea Min-linden ur, Merle Monte’i Pledge.

9!? Billy Blue-Eyes» the lioy Rover of the Rio Grunrie.

804 'ljl'ii: Dead Eliot Dandy: or, Benito. the ll")- Bugler.
808 keno Kit: or, Dead Shot] tillll)"fl Double.

814 The Mynterioun Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’e Long

‘ rhi .
'  Donodel. the Boy Rover; or, The Finale“ Schooner.

'i‘lie litdinn l‘llott or, The Scorch for Pinto island.
88? ‘Nflrvutii Will, the Boy Phantom.

euwaif, the Boy Lieuhsnnnt. ~
; nudor, the Young Coni- irntor; or, The Fntnl League.
407 ‘he Bo Insurgent; or, ‘he Cubnn Vendettn.
412 The WI (1 \ nclitnlnan; hr, The Wer-Cioue'e Cruiee.
429 Duncan Dore, the llo Refugee. '
438 l Cuhln Do ’I Lue ; or, The Counir.

487 The Sea Rn der.

441 The Ocean Firefly; or, A hiidiiy’n Vengeance.
446 llaphnzord llurr ; or. The Scupe mm of the See.
450 \Vlznrd “’iill or, he iiu ' Ferret 0 New York.
454 Wizard “'lll’e Street coutn.

468 The Born Guide; or. The Sailor Boy Wanderer.
408 Neptune Ned, the Buy Counter.

474 Flora; or, “’iznrd Will'e Vii nhond Pnrd.

488 Ferrets Afloat; or erd 'lll'e Lut Cue.

48? Nevada Ned, the fievoiver Rnnzer.

495 Arizona .100 the Boy Perd oi'Texue Juk.

49’! Buck Taylor King or the Cowboye.

508 The Royal lddil‘ or. The Shark end the See Get.
507 The llnnted Midi- man. .

511 The Outlnwod Mid y. '

520 Buck-kin Bill, the Comanche Shndow.

525 Brother: in Buckekln.

i580 The Buckskin Bowers.

585 The no skin Rovers.

540 Captain Kti—mux, the Mmuder oi the Rio.
545 Lieutenant Leo, the Son of Leiitte.

 

BY CHARLES M03318.

118 Will Square, the Boy Detective.
it:  "m -:~ M on. .. .o. m...
on an e ea or, emu, e 1..
no health. Dick; or, The n... ln- .
14! I ndnorne Merry, the Bootblnck Detective.
141 ill Wildfire; the Thorooyhhrnd.
153 Block lieu, ill Wildfire 5 Rear.
15? Mike lorry. the Hnrhor Polle- Boy.
iidlre in
the Miro-d Bo .
0rd. or Wili'Wlldlre Wine end Lone.
Bob Roe but; or, hly-teriee of New York.
5 Bee hot the Blitk liaimeriud‘ ’
on or. re n Raven...
Fred ii- A tit-Lueth - o Tiles” “a.
Bob Roe k’otwor. Driven to tin-{V . In
Bob Roeliett’sl’lght for LIL
the Tiger Kian.
the

 

8 33938333323

’
.3.

U:
2
I‘
1
E

“film em d in. a...

or n on .

’5. Dick Dnehnwny : or,'A kote Boy in chi
GI fi on" Sharpe: or, Bolllelilug lilke'n 'l‘reii.

.74 O y Ill; the Detective Apfnntioe. .

.89 Jolly Ji- 5 Job; or.'i'he one! Detective.

The Water-Ilene“ or. The one; Thoth
805 Duh-way. of Dokotoi or. A Weetern in them

. he
as Thro'ié‘ rt or, The letrnpped Cabin.
3: Err-.1331? R'P‘t'i“h'.’i.“.i§'.."r'm
on Bill; Brink. . Jolly 9...»... o
“0 Widekoeke'Jerry, Detective; annotated Alive.
‘79 Detective Dodge: «Thole-tenet“ Ebert}.
‘88 Wild Dick Rocket.
501 Booth“. Boy Fin-en: Nt'i'oosherpiorthefihrper-

3! new I. linden. an.

I Yolimtone Jul: or, The Trapper.

‘5 Block John, the Rood-Agent; or, The Outlew'l Reina.

05 Hurricane Bill: or. Mum; 3m Ind Hie Peri.
119 Milton. In 3 or. The King olthe Pint». -
1“ Nilht-llovk Kit; or, The Denim: oi the M
I“ Dainty his. the Boy Sport.
Ill Panther Pull; or. Dnlnty Leone to the Beeline.
I” The Block Glut; or. Deinty been in howdy.
1 MM; «.mhtlul'irewithl'inc

The Boy Trailer-t or, Dntnty Lemon thew-rm

m The Boy Peril-x or. Del-t, Inna Unmuh. .
.11 Omkod 0-10, the Cellhem of Celeetinl City.
.10 The Barren. Wolf; or, TheBeoiitilni Dem.
819 The Blank Rider: or, The Horne-Weren’hene
“5 on Double Diet] or, The muddle.
“I The King «the Wood“ MW Mai-MM
m Kit tax. the m Ivy nun-tin.

 

DY BUFFALO BILL (lion- Wl. F. CM

8 Keneu King; or. The Red]! ht End.
19 The Phantom Sfiyr er, The lotolie M
55 DondlyJ‘lye. the nknown Scout.
0!! Border Robin flood; or The PreirieReveI.

158 Funny Frank of Colorado: or. The Tum tent.

BY OLL OOOMEB.

5 Vnnbo-id Joe, the Younx Wenderin‘ Jew.
18 The Dumb Spy. ‘
9T Antelo e Abe, the Boy Guide.

81 Keen- iiii’e, the Prince of the Prairies.
41 Lie-um Jul-k, the Young it‘liietnnger.
53 The Border Kinmt or, The Secret Fee.
71 Delaware Dir-k, t it Young Kings! Spy.
74 Hawk-eve lien-Ev the Young 'l'lnppcl’ W.
88 Rollo, the “oil anger. r
184 Sure Eliot Set , thu lioy Riflemun.
148 Seer-Fool: Haul. the Silent Hunter.
146 i-‘ilvor Star. the Boy Knight.
158 Enule Hit. the Boy Demon.
168 Little Texun. the Young Muetnngor.
I?!“ Did Holltury, the Hermit 'l‘ru )per.
182 Little Hurricane, tlw Bo; nptnin.
202 Pro: out Pete; or, The 'ounz Uuilew Hinton.
208 The oy llereuleil i or, The Prairie Trumps.
218 Tiger Tom. the Texas Terri-r.
2B4 Dunlilii "Ii-k; or, 'l‘rnpper Tom’e (In-tie.
228 Little \ lldllre, the Young Prairie Nnuuiil.
23“ The l’urnon Detective: or, The Little Run.
243 The D Mauls-ed Guide; or, Wild Raven, the Ben“
260 Dare-Devil Dun, the Young l’ruirie Hunger.
972 Mliikuh’ln Mike, the Boy Shnryehooter.
290 Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy.
800 The Sky Deli-on: or, Ruiuhnlt, the Renter.
884 Whip-king- Joe, the Dov Rnnchero.
409 lleroule! or, Dick, the Boy Ranger.
4]? \Vebi‘oot one. the Trump Detective.
422 Bub Sam. the Buy Giunt oi' the Yellow-tale.
444 tht e Biwknkin, the Young l’rnirle Content.
45‘? “'lluzedi’oot Fred: or. Old Polar Seal.
463 'l‘ainurac Tom. the Big Tm rer Bay.
4.73 01d Toni Rattler the Red iver Epidemic.
482 stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan.

 

BY T. O. “ARBAUGIL

28 Nick 0’ the Night; or, Thu Bo Spy of ’1‘.
87 The Hidden Dodge; or The L “in Hunter.
4? Nightln ale 1\ nt’iV or, Tne Fore-t Ca taint.
64 Dundly rick; or, he Outlnwe of the rogue Tril-
83 Kit I urei’oot the Wood-Hunk.
94 Midnight Jack E or, The Bohy Trapper.
106 old Frosty. the ulde- or, T e White Queen.
198 Klow- Charley the White Mlmiangor.
189 Jud e I. neli, Jr.: or. The Bov Vigil-nu.
155 001 Tr r, the S irt; or, The Girl Avenm
169 Tornado on; or, njun Junk Front Red Gen.
188 Ned Temple. the Border Boy.
198 Arkan-nwi or, The Queen at Fitte’e Revenge.
30‘? Novena Nlok the Boy Gold Hunter.
815 Cuptnln Bullet; nr, Little To kuot‘e Crunch.
Bill Pincky Phllr or. Rom. the Jeuhel.
941 Bi Brnvo; air, The Rnulhl of the Rockies.
8155 Captain A 011:. the King-Pin o! Bowie.
86? The Duck: tertlve.
079 old Wine): or, The Bucliiliin Dee redeel. '
304 I) an“. .n or, The Bowie B add 0! Caleb...
eteetive trig. The Trigger Ber m
n. r
89‘ The Ten Porde or. The Terror of'l‘nke-Nefies
880 Big Bennie or. e men of the .
84.5 Pltileu t] or, Thane-1mm some. .

.58 Cool Mini and Ford; or The Terriblemx.

88 V l at no the lndlen Detective. '
88. . v r :llu or,'lheBuecueer’eGlrlh

On
890 n it Rob 0 . in Twin Chem lone of
Au 11:“er lulu or. n. perm

480 Pfil‘i’leeh t I New York Fox.

445 t i Red it w.
«1 33:33.3 ".- 1.3+... min.- iheu h

410 The Boy Iii-Glow; er. Yell: Fox’e Hunt.

4?? The Exeeleior Sport; or, The Waugh-w
499 Single Sight, the One-1y“ Sport.
m Branded Ben. the flight Ferret.

51. M36! Diek. the wnm-epy Detective.
501 W Diok'e Beet Dodge.

538 Fox end Deleon, the Bowery M
588 W Dick, the Dock Ferret.

548 Dodger Dick's Donhle; or, The Blvd new Den-lieu.

Lerner m) new mm.

m OIMIIII Cutie, the Qheperrel Cook. Dy Lleni. A. I. She. .

MT Inldy Andy) or. A Good lien Down. By P. S. Went

548 um the Night lxprue Detective. By J. 0. Met.

540 Deadwood Dink an ill: Nettle. lylLWheehe.

550 Page: Lem“ or. The Annie's”. 3y Gel. Pr.“
ngre . v

551 Nick Nettle, the lay Sheri". By 30 Plan.

55. Ariel, the Athlete. By Devld Druid.

i558 Dodeer Diek’e Demrnte One. By TIC. w-
554 Deadwood Diok.’r..in Gotham Byl. kWh-l.-
6“ The Creole 0M. ByCol. Pmtiee km

550 Lari-t Dill er. 'i'he‘Cut tor Italic. 'By Phill'p I. w...
5" Broadway Diiiy’e Booth Blokes. Dy]. c. W
558 The Dino-Shot Perils. By Arthwc. Glue-n.

.

‘ mold. Detective.
559 Mgerwgfih 30! ‘ Bruno».

uo Pawnee mu, minnow-L n, on. r. W
RM! AIM - i
in ten. Riv-rd L. Wire-to.
‘°“.l:i‘}'.';.°d‘.l"°‘ r“ I! .

than-nit rum. and... I
“glandfigiilnufl. 30! 

I A New Ilene Ever! Tulle}.

Jul-g Lib le medal-e.
$13!}, or eent ly mom  en‘. \ a
um um “All. Pom

r [I Willie- ltreet. lo. I...

 
  

 

  
 

A «hf: .r

 

 

 

 

rm

       
      
     
    
    
   
   
   
  
   
   
    
  
     
   
    
 
   
  
   
      
      
     
 
 
    
   
   
    
     
   
  
  
    
 
 
 

My», om»...— n... 1. v

   

 

 

 

 

.1.

 .

m

 

 

’ WW“
\

, 396 The Piper

.247 All
858 A

BY WILLIAM R. EYTEB.

M5 Pistol Pards- or. The Bilent‘S rt from Cinnabar.
160 Soft Hand. Sharp; or, The mg?) with the Band.
182 Hands Up; or, The Knights of the Canyon.

192 The Lightning Sport.

214 The Two 0001 Sports. or. Gertie of the Gulch.
229 Captain Cutsleeve; or. The Little Sport.

268 Ma ic Mike. the Man of Frills.
300 A Sport in Spectacles; or, The Bad Time at

Bunco.

833 Derringer Dick. the Man with the Drop.

844 Double Shot Dave of the Left Hand. .

856 Tim e Handsome Sports; or, The Double Com-
bination.

875 Royal Geor e. thteii Three in One.

V6. ' .

402 Snapshot Sam: or. The Angels‘ Flat Racket.

429 Hair Trigger Tom of Red Bend.

459 Major Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives.

(78 Pinnacle Pete; or, The Fool from Way Back.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE 1mm.
8 The Headless Horseman; A Strange Story of

Texas. '

12 The Death-Shot; or. Tracked to Death.

55 The Scalp Hunters. A Romance of the Plains.

66 The Specter Barque. A Tale of the Pacific.

74 Tifagaptain of the Rifles; or, The Queen of the

’es.

200 The Rifle Rangers; or. Adventures in Mexico.
208 The White Chief. A Romance of Northern Mex-l

ico.
213 The War Trail: or. The Hunt of the Wild Horse.
2213 The Wild Huntress; or. The Squatter's Ven-
eance.
228 Tl§e Maroon. A Tale of Voodoo and Obeah.
214 The Hunter‘s Feast. _ _
267 The White Squaw.

BY CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER.

all The Russian S y; or The Starry Cross Brothers.
65 The Red R33 ' or. he Scour e of the Indies.
in The Irish Captain. A Tale of ontenoy.

96 Double Death; or. The Spy of W 0min .

98 The Rock Rider; or, The Spirit 0 the S erra.
108 The Duke of Diamonds.

115 The Severed Head; or. The Secret of Castle

oucy.
132 Nemo. King of the Tramps.
159 Red Ruui r. the. Archer.
174 The Phan mKnlghts.
187 The Death's Head Cuirassiers.
198 The Man in Bed.
206 One Eye. the Cannoneer.
211 C lonel Plunlzer; or The Unknown Sport.
215 arson Jim. King of the Cowboys.
M Hansen; or. The 0‘s and the Mac's.
280 The Flying Dutchman of 1880.
w The Fog Devil;,or The Skipper of the Flash.
ator Ike; or. in: secret of the Ev lads.
ankeo Cossack; or.The Queen of thmhihstl.
285 Old Double-Sword; or Pilots and Pirates.
1m Seth Slocum. Railroad Surveyor.
2?? The Saucy Jane Pflvateer.

$4 The Three Frigates; or. Old Irousidos‘ Revenge. .

290 The Lost Corvette: or, Blakeley’s Last crime.

295 Old Cross-E e. the Maverickflunter.

303 Top-Notch om. the Cowboy Outlaw.

3910 The Marshal of Satanstown; or. The Cattle-
Lifteru' file.

826 The Whitest n in the Mina.

878 John Armstro . Mechanic.

406 Old Po Hicks. howman.

‘19 Larry ke. the Man of Iron. '

“5 Journeyman John. the Champion.

BY OLL 000MB.

7 Death-Notch. the Destroyer.

48 Dakota Dan. the Rockies: Bang)“.

44 on Dan Backhoe}: the Great .

as Bowievxnife Ben the Nor‘west Hunter.

48 idaho Tom the Bonn: Outlaw oi Bilverland.

51 Red Ebb. a Boy Road-fin . -

99 The Giant Rifleman: or lid Camp Lite.
137 Long Board. the Giant spy.
MB One-Armed Alt. the Giant Hunter.

-BY ANTHONY_ P. MORRIS.

h The Fire Blends; or. Herculeafinnchbmk.
it Azhort. the Axman; or. .
100 The French Spy- V
167 The Man of Stee Tale of Love and Terror.
185 Man S ider; or. The Beautiful 352mg.
238 Rank ound the Crescent Cit tootivo.
am The story; or. The Black Crescent.
288 Electra Pete. t a Man of Fire.
:2:  seam

:- o ve. -

334 The Cipher, Detective. or,‘ link Eagle‘s New

318 The Head Hunter: or, Mark Magic in the Mine.
£7 ‘Jnok Simona. Detective.

n! anonon or. 61103611.

the Sea Diver. I

fl
6171‘”:- aton'rhom'h'aibn.

 

BEADLE’S*DIME*EBRARY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double NW 

BY J. C. OOWDBICK.

890 The Giant Cupid: or Clbuta John's Jubilee.
422 Blue Grass Burt. the Gold Star Detective.
436 Kentucky Jean. the S ort from Yellow Pine.
452 Rainbow Rub. the T p from Texas.

478 Gilbert of Gotham, the Steel-arm Detective.

BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON.

178 Lady Jaguar. the Robber Queen.

194 Don Sombrero. the California Road Gent.
202 Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide.

219 The Scor ion Brothers; or. Mad Tom’s Mission.
223 Call on ave, the Man of the Mountain.

227 Buc shot Ben the Man-Hunter of Idaho.
237 LODE'HEil‘eil Max; or, The Black League.
M5 Barrnnca Bill, the Revolver Champion.

258 Bullet Head. the Colors lo Bravo. .

263 iron-Armed Abe. the Hunchback Destroyer.
266 Leopard Luke the King of Horse-Thieves.
271 Stoneflst. of Big Nugget Benn.

276 Texan Chick. the Southwest Detective.

285 Lightning Br‘lt. the Canyon Terror.

291 Horseshoe Eank. the Man of Big Luck.

305 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover.

311 Heavy Hand; or. The Marked 1 on.

323 Hotspur Hugh; or. The Bande Brothers.

in? sun s. HALL—“Buckskin Sam.”

3 Kit Carson, J r.. the Crack Shot.
90 Wild Will. the Mad Ranchero.
178 Dark Dashwood, the Desperate.
186 The Black Bravo; or, The Tonkaway’s Trium h.
191 The Terrible Tonkaway; or. Old Rocky and lie

Pards.
195 The Lone Star Gambler; or, The Magnolias

a1 .
199 Diamond Dick. the Dandy from Denver.
204 Big Foot Wallace, the King of the Lariat.
212 The Brazos Tillers; or. The Minute Men.
217 The Serpent of El Paso; or. Frontier Frank.
221 Desperate Duke. the Guadalou e “Galoot.'
225 Rocky Mountain Al: or The sit or the Range.
239 The Terrible Trio; or. The Angel of the Army.
9244 Merciless Mart. the Man Tiger of Missouri.
250 The Rough Riders: or. Sharp Eye the Scourge.
256 Double Dan the Bastard; or, The Pirates.
5384 The Crooked Three.
969 The Bayou Bravo; or The Terrible Trail.
2'78 Mountain Mose. the Gorge Outlaw.
282 The Merciless Marauders; or Carl's Revenge.
28? [Dandy Dave and his Horse. White Stockin .
293 Stampede Steve; or. The Doom 0! the able

Face.
801 Bowlder Bill: or. The Man from Tans.
809 Raybold. the Battling Ran§en
8922 The Crimson 00 Mayor ita the‘Nemesin. '
828 King Kent- or. he Bandits of the Boson.
842 Blanco Bil . the Mustang Monarch.
858 The Prince of Pan Out.
871 Gold Buttons; or, The Up Range Pal-do.

3! 1m. J. n. nomivsolv.

' 18 Pathaway; or, Nick Whimes. the old Nor’wast

Trapper.

17 N hts ado; or. The Robber Prince.

22 itelaw; or. Nettie of the Lake Shore.

8? Hirl, the Hunchback; or, The Santa Swen!-

maker.
58 Silver Knife: or. The Rock Mountai lager.
70 drabnd.tho Stran ler. ! n a.
78 d Crou; or, The Gmada

e Kn hts of the
168 Ben Brion: or. Redpath. the Avenger.

BY MAJOR. DANGERFIELD BUBB.

92 Butan Bill. the Buckskin King.
117 Dashin ; Dandy; or. The Ho ur of the Hills.
1142 Captain Crimson the Man or eiron Fm.
156 Vt: vet Face the Border Bravo.
:3 Enigma: Trufinp cm: or, 11:11:: llgiian Heiress.
e an om aze : or. one.
448 Bar): Kenton. the tor.

BY MAJOR DANIEL BOONE DUMON'I‘.

888 Silver Sam. the Detective.

8811 Colonel Double-Edge, the Cattle Baron‘s Par-d.
411 The White Crook; or. Old Hart's Fortress.
4.90 The Old River Sport; or. A Man of Honor.

489 Salamander Sam.
454 The Night Raider. ‘
(64 Sandyoraw the Man or Grit.

var ononon 0. vaxs. '
898 Sleepless the Pacific Detective.
483 The Giant 359mm.
BY oonon. manna sun.

Silver Bam' or, The Mystery of Deadwood City.
or The Scarlet Captain; 01-. Prisoner o: the Tower
10!! Shaman O’Brien. the Bould Boy of Glingal.

BY PROFrJ- H. INGBAHAM.

118 The Sea Slipper: or. The
118 The Burglar Ca

 

nun ol- Theml sull-
' . on o
314 Lanna; or..Thean-o£o of the Gulf

816 Lafitte a lieutenant; or. Child of the Bel.

 

  

BY NEWTON M. ounriss.

120 The Texan Spy; or. The Prairie Guide.
5354 Giant Jake, the Patrol oi the Mountain.

BY FRANCIS JOHNSON.

25 The Gold Guide- or. Steel Arm, Regulator.

26 The Death Trac ; or. The Mountain Outlaws.
12‘) Alapaha the Squaw; or. The Border Reneng
1W1 Asaowaum the Avenger; or, The Doom of the

Destroyer.
135 The Bush Ranger: or. The Half-Breed Rajah.
186 The Outlaw Hunter; 01-. The Bush Ranger.
188 The Border Bandit; or. The Horse Thiet's Trail.

BY 0. BUNNING CLARK.

164 The Kin ‘s Fool.
183 Gilbert t e Guide.

BY COL. THOMAS H. MONSTBBY.

82 Iron Wrist. the Swordmaster.
126 The Demon Duelist; or. The Lea e of Steel.
143 The Czar’s Spy; or. The Nihilist eague.
150 El Rubio Bravo. King of the Swordsmen.
157 Mourad. the Mameluke; or, The Three Sword-
masters.
169 Corporal Cannon. the Man 01 Forty Duels.
2336 Champion Sam; or The Monnrchsof the Show
262 Fighting Tom. the Terror of the Toughs.
8&3 Spring-Heel Jack; or. The Masked Mystery.

BY ISAAC HAWKS, Ext-Detective. h

282 Orson Oxx; or, The River Mystery.
240 A Cool Head; or. Orson Oxx in PeriL

BY GUSTAVE Airman.

15 The Tiger Slayer; or. Eagle Heart to theRescue.

19 Red Cedar. the Prairie Outlaw. .

20 The Bandit at Bay; or, The Prairie Pirates.

21 The Tra per's Daughter; or, The Outlawfs Fata

24 Prairie lower. '

62 Loyal Heart: or. The Trappers of Arkansas.
149 The Border Rifles. A Tale of the Texan War.
151 The Freebooters. A Story or the Texan War.
158 The White Scalper.

BY NED BUNTLINB.

i4 Thayondan en the Scan 49' or The War-Eagle.

16 The White Wizard; or, Thg Seminole Prophet.

18 The Sea Bandit; or, The Queen of the Isle.

33 The Red Warrior; or. The Comanche Lover.

.21 germane m... c...... -'
e mugg r a ' or. e I ‘

122 Saul Sabberday, l e Idiot Sfiy. - ‘

W0 Andros the Rover: or The rate'l Daughter.

861 Tombstone Dick, the 11 Pilot.

MISCELLANEOUS.
6 Wildcat Bob. the Boss Bruiser. By lawsuit.
Wheeler

9 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.
10 Vidooq. the French Police Spy. Written by

11 Midshipman Easy. Ba Captain it.
89 When of Yale: or T e Scrape: of Begins.
ea Wide Awake. the Bobbor King. By Funk no.

I moat.
68 ThAe' Fighting Trapper. By Captain 1. F. O.

“The 'n‘suuskoteers. Byfleo 'Alboay.
78The sterloulngpy. B Arthur retain or.
108 The Mgnkod Ba ' or, Manwithouta um.
By Georke L. Miran.
snihsreusvfiwtmmm I
e u "7- or
3 TS?“ M 3 oh 1.2"“
a ver.
140 The roe s y. tit. W320:
144 ThEeJiunoh k of NotreDuno. By

u o. ,
146Tho£ootrDet ti . B
1g“ 0 cc ve Tammi.

  
  
    
    
  
   

tain Ironnerve. the nut eit Chief.
1 This mod Dozen. B Dr. Brooke’Powem .
168 males, the Robber ca. By Septhnul I.

rbnn.
179 Conrad. the Convict. Prof. Gildanloovo.
190 The Three Guardsmenfwn Alexander Dumu.
961 Blackysladm. the Prairie Thunderbolt. By Col. '

Jo s. . l
m Redwmg. cunt-in Scourge. Byline», ,
880 00130932. the Quaker City Detective. By and.
use Flash Falcon. the Society Detective. nyWeidoo‘
an no}: Brenner oral-Tho King or Straight M;

’ BvJohn Cuthbo .
“Tlfiogglemph Detective. By George Eons,

410 Sarah Brown. Detecti B I. F. Bill. ‘ ‘
m TheHenrtoank Det'eeétive? 13:14.th
A now «many Wadnuday. , '
Beadle,- Dlmo library k for solo Il'

New-dealers. ten cents per copy or sent by mg
rocei of twelveoentsoaoh. among“
98  New York. ' l

          
      
    
       
 
   
        
        
        
       
  

 
      
      
  

  

BEADLE’SeDIMErILB‘RARY.

‘ Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

BY COL. PBENTISS INGBAIIAM.

2 The Dare Devil; or, The Winged Sea Witch.
86 The Cretan Rover; or. Zuleikah the Beautiful.
89 The Pirate Prince; or. The Queen of the Isle.
94 Freelance. the Buccaneer.

108 Merle, the Mutineer; or. The Red Anchor Brand.

104 Montezuma. the Merciless. -

109 Captain Kyd. the King of the Black Flag.

116 Black Plume; or. The Sorceress of Hell Gate.

121 The Sea Cadet; or, The Rover of the Rigoletts.

128 The Chevalier Corsair; or. The Heritage.

181 Buckskin Sam. the Texas Trailer.

.184 Darke Dan, the Colored Detective.

.' 189 Fire e; or. The Bride of a Buccaneer.

147 Gold pur, the Gentleman from Texas.

155 The CorsairQueen: or The Gypsies of the Sea.
102 The Mad Mariner; or. bishonored and Disowned
168 Wild Bill. the Pistol Dead Shot.

Black Pirate; or The Golden Fetters Mystery.
1 Don Diablo, the Planter-Corsair. 
181 The Scarlet Schooner; or. The Sea Nemesis.
'184 The Ocean Vampire; or. The Castle Heiress.
189 Wild Billie Gold Trail; or. The Desperate Dozen.
198 The Skeleton Schooner; or, The Skimmer.
205 The Gambler Pirate; or. Lady of the Lagoon.
210 Buccaneer Bess. the Lioness of the Sea.
216 The Corsair Planter; or. Driven to Doom.
230 The Specter Yacht; or. A Brother's Crime.
w Black Beard. the Buccaneer.
231 The Kid Glove Miner; or. The Magic Doctor.
9285 Red Ll htning the Man of Chance.

‘ 246 ueen elen. the Amazon of the Overland.

5355 he Pirate Priest; or, The Gambler‘s Dau liter.

4 259 Cutlass and Cross" or, the Ghouls of the ca.

 29x TheSea Owl; or. he Lady Ca taln of the Gulf.
807 The Phantom Pirate; or, The ater Wolves.

.318 The Indian Buccaneer; or. The Red Rovers.

825 The Gentleman Pirate; or. The 03500 Hermite.
839 The Lao no of Three: or. Buffalo Bill’ Pledge.
836 The Ma 0 Ship; or. Sandy Hook Freebooters.

_‘ 341 The Sea Des erado.

s . 846.00ean Guer line; or. Phantom Midshi man.
862 Buflalo Bill‘s Grip; or Oath Bound to uster.
864 The Sea 13‘ 'tive; or. The ueeu of the Coast.
369 The Coast rsair; or, The iron of the Sea.

. 373 Sailor of Fortune; or, The Barnqgfiat Buccaneer.
877 Afloatand Ashore: or. The Cor. Cons irator.
888 The Giant Buccaneer; or. The Wrecker itch.
898 The Convict Ca tian. .

809 The New Monte rlsto.

2 '418.’I‘he Sea Show or. The Fugitive Privateer.

,425 The Sea Swor ; or, The Ocean Rivals.

.480 The Fatal Frigate' or. Rivals in Love and War.

.435 The One-Armed ocaneer. . _

' Ocean 0 re. the Outcast Corsair.
. 457 TheSea neurgent.

.469 The Lieutenant Detective.

476 Bob Brent. the Buccaneer. ,

‘ BY wrnianm H. MANNING-
279 The Gold Dragoon. or, The California Blood-
hound.

9397 Colorado Rube. the Strong Arm of Hotspur.

' 885. Will Dick Turpin, the Leadville Lion.
405 Old Baldy. the Brigadier of Buck Basin.
'415 Hot 39311:, the Detective Spy.
427 The Rivals of Montana Mill.
487 Deep Duke: or, The Man of Two Lives.

‘ 442 Wild Wést‘Walt. the Mountain Veteran.

, 449 Bluthux-ke. K1380! the Rockies.

9455 Yank iYellowbird. the Tall Bustier of the Hills.
1468 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator.
470 The Duke of Dakota.

0 479. Gladiator Gabe..the Samson of Smadack.

, BY EDWARD WILLETT.
no mm Mose; or. a Strong man's Sacrifice
809. Dual: Farley. the Bonanza Prince. ' ‘ - -
, 323 Bill the Blinard; or. Red Jack's Crime.
248 Montana Nat. the Lion of Last Chance Camp.
874‘ Flush Fred. the Mississippi Sport.
~39 Flush Fred‘s Full Hand.
‘ ms Logger Loni; or. Life in the Pine Woods.
ans Hemlock Hank. Tough and True.
8115 Finish Fred's Double; or, The Squatters' League.
.' 897 Terrapin Dick. the Wildwood Detective.
‘88? Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp.
' 849 Dan Dillon. King of Croescut. ‘
' 888,,The Canyon King; er, a Price on his Head.

BY-JAOKSON KNOX—“ old Hawk.”

, a“ Hawk Heron. the Falcon Detective. ,
V ’ .484 Hawk Heron’s Deputy.
44‘ The Magic Detective; or. The Hidden Hand. '
fll’Griplock, the Rocket Detective.
408 The Circus Detactive.
«7 Motown-ins. the Salamander.
‘17 Deadatm‘srandt.

, £78 Hercules Goldspnr

 

BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. W. F. Cody).

.52 Death-Trailer. the Chief of Scouts.

S'i Gold Bullet Sport; or, Knights of the Overland.
243 PM Pilgrim Shar ; or The Soldier‘s Sweetheart.
304 Texas Jack. the rairi'e Rattler.

319 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West.

894 White Beaver. the Exile of the Platte.

897 The Wizard Brothers: or. White Bnaver‘s Trail.
401 One-Armed Ford: or. Borderland Retribution.
414 Red Renard. the Indian Detective. '

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

28 'l'hree-Fingered J aok the Road-Agent.
30 Gospel George; or, law Fred. the Outlaw
40 Lou -Haired_Pards; or, TheTarters of the Plains.
45 Old ull's-Eye, the Lightning Shot.
47 Pacific Petr, the Prince of the Revolver.
50 Jack Rabbit, the Prairie Sport.
04 Double-Sight, the Death Shot.
67 The Boy J ockey; or, Honesty vs. Crookedness.
71 Captain Cool Blade; or. Mississip i Man Shark.
88 Big George; or. The Five Outlaw rothers.
105 Dan Brown of Denver; or. The Detective.
119 Alabama Joe; or. The Ynzoo Man-Hunters.

‘ 127 Sol Scott. the Masked Miner.

141 Equinox Tom, the Bul'y of Red Rock.

154 Joaquin, the Saddle King.

165 Joaquin. the Terrible.

170 Sweet William, the Trapper Detective.

180 Old ‘49; or. The Amazon of Arizona.

197 Revolver Rob- or, The Belle of Nugget Cam .
20) Pirate of the lacers; or, J oaquin's Death unt.
233 The Old lloy of Tombstone. ‘

%1 S itflre Saul. King of the Rustlers.

2-19 lephant Tom. of Durungo.

257 Death Trot;c Diggings; or, A Hard Man from

ac .

283 Sleek Sam, the Devil of the Mines.

286 Pistol Johnny; or, One Man in a Thousand.
292 Moke Homer. the Boss Roustabout.

802 Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules.

817 Frank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective.

324 'Old Forked Lightnin v. the Solitarv.

331 ChiSpa Charle . the Gold Nugget Sport.

339 S read Eagle in. the Hercu es Hide Hunter.
845 asked Mark. the Mounted Detective.

851 Nor‘ West Nick. the Border Detective.

855 Stormy Steve. the Mad Athlete.

360 Jumping Jerry. the Gamecock from Sundown.
867 A Royal Flush; or, Dan Brown's Big Game.
372 Captain Crisp. the Man with‘a Record.

879 Howling J onathan, the Terror from Headwaters.
887 Dirk‘Du . the Ishmael of the Hills.

395 Deadly A m. the Duke of Derringers.

4075 The N aimless Sport.

409 RobRo Ranch' or. The Imps of Pan Handle.
416 Monte lm the Black Sheet of Bismarck.

426. The Ghost Detective; or. 'r 0 Spy of the Secret

rvice. I
483 Laughing Leo; or. Sam's Dandy Pard.
4'18 Oklahoma Nick.
443 A Cool Hand ‘ or. Pistol Johnny’s Picnic.
450 The Rustler Detective.
458 Dutch Dan. the Pilgrim from Spitzenber .
466 Old Rough and Readfiethe e of Sn own.
474 Daddy Dead-Bye. the spot of Dow Drop.

Brennan's: nownnn nonmns.

the Man of the Velvet Hand.
94 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy. ‘
821 California (Haude,-the Lone Bandit.

835 Flash Dan. the Naboh; or. Blades of Bowie Bar.

840 Cool Conrad. the Dakota Detective. ‘
847Denver Duke. the Man with “ Band."

852 The Desperate Dozen.

365 Keen Kennard. the Shasta Shadow.

874 Major Blister. the Sport at Two Cities.

882 The Bonanza Band: or. Dread Don of Cool Clan.
892‘ The Lost Bonanza: or. The Boot of Silent Emmi.
400 Captain Coldgxip: or. The New York Spotter.
4032 Captain Coldgrlp’s Nerve; or. Injun Nick.

413 Captain coldgrip in New York.

421 Father Ferret. the Frisco Shadow.

4134 Lucifer Lynx. the Wonder Detective.

441 The CaliforniaSbarp.

447 Volcano. the Frisco Spy. I

458 Captain Coldgrip'l Long Trail.

460 Captain Coldgrlp. the Detective.

4&8 Coldng in Deadwood. .

480 Hawkspesr, the Man with a Sealant.

' BY anon nuns.

428  Flying Glim; mm Island Lure.
450 The Demon Steer. v i
481 The Silent Detective; or, The Bogus Nephew.

' nit Pursuit n. 51". 'Jomv.
M The Silent Hunter. ‘ 7 .
86 Them; Hunter; or. The Queen of the Weeds.

o

 

BY PHILIP S. WARNE-

1 A Hard Crowd; or. Gentleman Sam‘s Sister.

4 The Kidnapper: or. The Northwest Shanghai.
29 Tiger Dick. Faro King: or 'ic‘jlge Cashier-'s Crime.
54 Always on Hand; or. The‘F t-Hills Sport.

80 A Man of Nerve; or, Caliban the‘ Dwarf.

114 Th» Gentleman from Pike.

171 Ti er Dick. the Man of the Iron Heart.

207 9} Hard Head; or. Whirlwind and his Mare.

251 user Dick vs. Iron D.-spu.1'd.

280 Tiger Dick‘s Lone Hand.

$9 Three of a Kind; or, Tiger Dick. Iron Despard
and the Sportive Sport.

338 Jack Sands. the Boss of the Town.

359 Yellow Jack, the Mestizo.

880 Tiger Dick’s Pledge; or, The Golden Serpent.

401 Silver Sid; or. A “ Daisy ” Bluff.

431 California Kit. the Always on Hand.

472 Six Foot Si; or. The Man to "Tie To."

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

27 The Spotter Detective: or. Girls of New York.

81 The New York Sha’i‘p; or. The Flash of Lightning,
33 Overland Kit; or, he idyl of While, Pine,

34 Rocky Mountain Rob. the California Outlaw.
85'Kentuck. the Sport: or. Dick Talbot of the Mines.
36 Injun Dick: or. The Death-Shot of Shasta.

88 Velvet Hand; or. Injun Dick’s Iron Grip.

41 Gold Dan: or. The White Savage of Salt Lake.

42 The California Detective: or, The Witches of N.Y.

49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kanawha Queen.

56 The Indian Mazeppa; or..Madman of the Plains.

59 The Man from ‘l‘exas; or. The Arkansas Outlaw.

63 The Winged Whale: or. The Red Rupert of Gulf.
:3 The Phantom Band; or, The 5th Avenue Heiress.

75 Gentleman George: or. Parlor. Prison and Street.

77 The Fresh of Frisco; or. The Heiress.

79' Joe Phenix. the Police Spy. '

81 The Human Tiger: or. A Heart of Fire.

84 Hunted Down: or. The League of Three.

91 The Winnin Oar: or. The Innkeeper‘s Daughter. ‘

93 Captain Dic Talbot. Kine.r of the Road.

97 Bronze Jack. the California Thoroughbred.
101 The Man from New York.
107 Richard Talbot. of Cinnabar.

112 Joe Phem'x. Private Detective.

180 Captain Volcano: or. The Man of Red Revolvers.
161 The Wolves of New York; on Joe Phenix’s Hunt.
173 California John. the Pacific Thoroughbred.
196 La Marmoset. the De teclive een.
203 The Double Detective; or.The
252 The Wall Street Blood; or The Tale raph Girl.
320 The Genteel Spotter; or . e N. Y. N ght Hawk.
349 Iron-Hearted Divk. the Gentleman Road-Agent.
354 Red Richard; 0: The Crimson Cross B d.
863 Crownin leld. the Detective
870 The Bus Detective: or. Pursued to the End.

376 Black Beards: 01-.The Rio Grande Hish Horse. '

881 The Gv Gentleman' or Nick Fox. Detective.
384 Injun Dig. Detective: ‘or, Tracked to New York.
3% EWGTWJI‘irDT‘KBltfi’S‘E‘S ‘ '
oc . . e on e o .

419 The Batgf the Battery - or. Joe Phenix. Detective.
350 gigs Ifione fiend; nah is, m River I.

e or e o e no c.
461' The high on the Rio Grande.
4135 The Actor Detective.
475 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective.

mm AND new ISSUES.

482 Ocean Tramps. By Col. P. Ingrnham.
488 Flush Fred, the River Sharp. By Ed. Willett.

r 484 Ca tain Ready, the Red Ransomer. By Loon

win. .

486 Riggilock. the Harbor Detective. -By Jackson
nox. ,. i

486 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detective. By

Wm. Manning.

'

dnight Mystery. 1 ‘

487 Sunshine Sagas. Chip of the Old Block. By

Capt. How Holmes. ,
488 The Thoroughbred Sport. By Joe. E. margin

489 The Pirate Hunter. By 001. Prentiss Ingraham. .

490 The Lone Hand in Texas. By Albert W. Aiken;

491 Zigzag and Cutt. the Invincible Detectives. By.
E.

StJon. , .
the Prairie She hooter. By
“*2 masseuse“... mama.
498 The Scouts of the Sea. By Col. P. Incl-sham.
Ready April4. . I
494 The Detectives' Spy. By Jackson Knox.
Ready April 11. r

495 mm to Bob- or. The Round): ad's Reprise].
3.3%: a Bed is

ger, 'Jr. Ready prll  \. B
496 Richard Redflre. the Two Worlds’ Detect vs.“ y
. Capt. Howard Holmes. Ready April 25.
' A new issue every Wednesday. . V

Bead on Dime Library is for sale by
Newsdea are, ten cents all
roceiptoftwelve'centseoc  I V _ I.
’ shame AND ADAMS. murmur. ;

I

as William Street. h‘giv rem:

whoopymrsentbym on )