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COPYRIGHTED IN l590.BY BEADI—E a‘ AVDAMS. 1%91‘3‘24 :)

ENTERED AT THE Posr OFFICE AT NEW YORK. N. Y.. AT SECOND CLASS MAIL RATES.

Vol. XLVIlI.

 

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033 from the Grave.

BY WM. H. MANNING,
AUTHOR OF' “OLD IXH‘BLFJlARhT" “ ('ENTRAL
PACIFIC mm." “ DEEP DUKE." “HOT
HEART,” ism, no, me.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE DETIC'i-Ivn‘s stRx'r CASE.

TWO men crouched in ambush. The leaves of
a. thicket Concealed them from View, and the
gathering shades of evening made the road a fit

lace for crime. It was the heart of a swamp.
hrough this run the road—one not traveled to

 

any great exten yet one where a rider or

pedestrian was lie 10 to be seen at any time.
Plainly, the men in ambush were waitin for

some particular non, for they watch the

“a.

 

 

, ‘~ A ;- , I - ' ~ ., ’ ' ‘ southern rt of t 0 road constantly.
. “vex  "I  ' ' If the light of day had been turned upon them
. " // ’4 a , it would have been seen that. they were evil-
» H x looking fellows. One was a white man, large of

In nsncnvn SAW THAT 'rn: DOG WAS BOUND TO PROTECT mic INSENSIBL stature. rough of dress. coarse of face, and a
wonu. OB D115 is mm DEFENSE. typical brute in general appearance. His com-

 

 

    

V follow, and, as he tried in vain to ward them off,

 

 

i ,1 right, but I want things sqfiarc and above-
 board ” '

- my ht to the title? After working for other

agenda”, ' , _ g
. ‘ I know m be and, m heat-Melt syrups:
j lbw-youth hut libw, do yyou find things at

2

 

Dangerous Dave.

 

panion was a good copy of himself. except that
he was of a different color. He was a negro of
the deepest shade. ’

Countrv, but it shows signs of decay in this, the '

Roland Thornhohn is no manager.”

year 185:3.
But tcll me what has

“ That’s widon known.

Footsteps sounded on the road, and a man ad- I happunod to you?”

vzincod with slow but firm steps.

The ambush men wlii~lm~od to each other, and
then, as the stranger camc opposite thi-ir covert, j
sprung out and confronted him. Each was ,
armed with a club, and thi-y fioiii'ishcd them in
the face of the man they had so rudely Stopped. ,

“ Your money!” growch the white loader.
“Hand it over or you are a dead man!”

The person so rudcly adlrcssod stood still and
surveyed them with composure not to have been
expected. '

“Upon my word 1" he returned, “ you take a I
polite way of asking a favor.”

“.No talk! Fork over!” was the reply. i

“ I think I know you, men. I’ve heard of
Drake Hodge and Black Tuck; and you seem to
fit the hill.”

“ Don’t-yer worry as ter who we be. You
know what we want, an’ that’s enough. Hand
over yer mone .”

“ Yul)!” added the negro, with a thick growl;
9‘ hand over, or die!”

“See here, you two, do you want to get a life-
job in prison?” demanded. the accestcd men.

“ You see yerel” rctorted Drake Hodge. ,
“ You make no talk, all right: but of you hang
off. down you go. Ycr money we will llcV.
Hear that? The only question is. shall we leave
you safe, or with a broken head?”-

“ So you intend to do me harm i”

“ We’ll pound yer inter nothin’ of you resist.
Yes; an’ won’t waste no more words. Give us
yer money now, or down yer go!”

, Hodge flourished his club, and his intentions
Were quite as bad as his words. The man they ,
had haltod was well along in years,nnd nota '
match for either of them in a fight. He cxhibit- |_

 

ed the coolness of a man thoroughly brave, but ‘-

something more than this was necessary to dc-
feat them. Fortunately, the something addi-
tional Was not lacking. ~

Just as Hodge was about touse his club he
was amazed and alarmed byablow upon his
own head, and as he reeled under its force it
was followed by other blows, and a keen, sharp
voice rung in his ears:

“ So you want some clubbing done, do you?
Well, have your fill! Tako fhis! and this!”

A shower of lusty strokes ovciiwhclnicd the

Black Tuck sprung forward, only to receive a.
share of the punishment. The newcomer was
armed with a long stick, and he used it with
such Will and quickness that they were helpless
before him. . -

Both Hodge and Tuck were c0wnrds at heart,
and, I when they saw the fight’going against them
so completely all their reso ution gave way.
Hodge sounded the cry, and they turned. sprung
into the bushes, and were heard crashing and
floundering away.

Rescued man and rescuer clasped hands. ‘

“ So it’s you, my boy i” cried the former. “ B
Neptune! you came just in time; those rasca s
would havo made a wreck of me.”

“ I take it they Were robbers?” »

“ What else could you expect of Drake Hodge
and Black Tuck?”

“ So you knowthem?"

“ If?) reputation. Don’t you?”
it o.”
“The are veritable outlaws, Hodge is a

crimina who, coring to lax laws, or, rather, lax
execution of the law, has kept out of prison
many years after he ought to have been a life-
convict. Black Tuck was a slave, but, being
flOgged for his undoubted sins, he took to the
swamps. He and Hodge hunt in company, and
are the terrors of this part of Vir inia. All ef-
forts to catch them havo failed. hey know the
swamps as no one else does, and, hiding there
when necessary, sally forth when thqy see fit, to
lander hOnest folks. There’s a. detective job
or on, my boy!”
“ have more important work.”
,“_ True. true. How goes it?”
“Well, I am safel‘ domiciled at Thornholm
Lodge- as innocent alter Vincent, the secre-

tar .”
“yAud nobod suspects that you are Danger-
ous Dave, the i eVer-Beaten Detective, ehf”
he“ S’of‘tly, captain! Don’t speak those words
re. ,
“ Excuse me! Old Ned Norcroqs is no strate-
gist. Give me a ship on the wave and I am all

,“ I know your way, captain. We i, into made
me a detective, but I hope to ”g .out of the
business soon. They cal me --the speaker
leokéd around carefu l y and lowered his voice—
“ the Never’Beaten Detective. Shall [maintain

men am, at last, an aged for myself, and life
ltsoli is not dearer t an the hopes l have at
stake. But you know it all; let his 

sch
. Glen ille.

 

“ nholm Lodge?”
‘ I dare sayi is' a
g 

grand as any in the"

   

, 4

i , ‘ _ y,
i.‘ .- r... w

 

.,.
".A 1.- 

ty cal Virgina planta- -

i“. 
Mal” ‘ w. . I  r.

“ You shall hour the whole story, but come to

r a 88er place; this is not a lit place to talk, and,

besiih-s, our swunip outlaWs may creep up and
renew their attack.”

The Couple walkcd on,

If daylight had prevailed, to reveal them
strongly, it would have been seen-'thnt Captain
Norcross wasa fine-looking, white-twardcd old
gentleman. and that he who had answered to
the pcculiar pame of “Dangerous llavo, the
Never-Beaten Detective,” was still less than

thirty, and quite as good a specimen of youth as ‘

Norcross was of advanced years.

Finding asuitable place they sat down and
tho story began.

It was told in a gladc in the woods, a little
back from the road, and where no one was likcly
to interrupt them unless it was a wandering
hunter.

The general locality was what had been the
choicest country part of Virginia in aiite-bclliim
days. Rich plantations abouiidcd, the wealthy
residents having an abundance of slaves, while
“poor whites " fitted into the niches, as it ware.
The State was at tho hight of its glory, but it
had all of the olements that went to make up
Southern society, high and low.

The dotective began his story.

“ Bofore coming here I did all that was possi-
ble to sink my professional character and bo-
como an ontiroly dill'orciit mun. Tho advertise-

’mont of Roland ’l‘hornholm for a secretary was

the cbaiicc of my life. 1 hastened here to secure
the position.

“ First of :ill I went to the hotel at Glcnville,
but rode over to tho Lodge the iicxt morning.
had never seen a place so grand bi-foro. The
house was too bignnd rambling, but the grounds
were porfect. i went in and saw Thornholm
and Mr, Om 0. They were together in the
library .while was meeting the farmer’s ques-
tions. ’

“ He asked as to my education and general

.rfltness, and then surprised me by stating that he

wanted a ore than a secretary; he wanted a
schoolmaslierl

“ Ho con fosscd that he had ,siighted booksfor
dogs and guns, and was, as a consequence, whol-
ly unlourned: but avowod that he wanted to
make up for lost limo.”

“ Why does llt' resume books at his age?”
askod Captain NOI‘CI'USS, curiously.

“ That is whpt I don’t know. Edward Crapo
listened with s. sneer on his fscv. Clearly there
is no love lost betwoi-n thoni.

“ M'ell, I was engaged as secretary—and

lmastcr—and started on my return to
As I sin/going to be very frank with
you, I’ll tell something that happened on the

wav.

“I had gone but a short distance along the
road when a big dog suddenly rushed around a.
curve and, barking loudly, sprung at my horse
‘ijn inch a way that there was nearly an acci-

en .

‘jManaging to avoid a fall, Iwas about to
turn n the dog in anger when the animal
was fo owed by an equestrienne. I forgot my
anger at onco. She was the most beautiful
youn’g girl I had evor seen. She apologized for
the dogs behavior; I answered her that it was
all ri t; we separated."

“ bed was named Hector. Who his mis-
tress was did not learn, but I confess that I
ho we should meet a in.”

a tain Norcross smi ed.

“ had thought you‘ proof against beauty,”
he remarked, dryly.

“Wait!” the detective returned. “Hear the
sequel. Going back to Glenville I irpported the
result to Parkley, the landlord. He had taken
an interest in me, and he offered congratula-
tions, but toned them d0wn with the op‘nion
that I- wohld not like. He ave me a ord-

icturs of each of the chic persons at the

lite.

“Roland,ha~said, was an ignorant barbarian
who cared only for the hunt and the chase; a
coarse, rude, selfish fellow whom no one
liked. Edward Grape. and Mrs. Crapo, he re-
presonted «proud, cold, conceited upstarts.”

“figd Vera Crapo?” questioned Norcross.

-“ ‘ ks We] of her: said she was all that

was _ and n his, and was 3119er by rich
and ’ Mike. To the one, she was a chaining
com “5’ at!) the other, a helper with. time an

 
 

_" 'xt‘ arenaon I went to the Lodgetn
V “ '  . tum lite but Roland was not
-. .‘vrlthn ld sneer,that he

 I , t‘dufiprecisely
 lm, ; when he

  
  
   
  
 
    
     
  

  
 
 
  

9", V .41 "l:>";‘, in. .
“Afifdl' dimly-i!  , ' itbe grounds
hackoi'the old . 4 an _  unter. I
came upon the bi dog, :8 ‘X  ector’s
'mistr Can you guess '5” - - .» "his, ,, .
i “D she ovetoheVevafi p0 . 
“You. ,I,;_sd never surmised the truth, and

I

m: .dnpigmant -- Captain. if I

.,~_‘ gedidnot.
 ind dog and,

 

 
  

 

succeed at Thornholm Lodge, I shall bring sor-
row to her!"

“Do you think of giving it up?"

“I cannot, I must go on.”

“Ri lit in bo ' “'rh ”

“Yest_;, y y. H... t!

The detective paused and shook his head
gloomily.

“ She must llan some of the Grape meanness,”
su ‘estcd Norcross.

‘ She seems to have none. They are proud,
stiff, cold and arrogant; she is as friendly with
me as if I wore on equal.”

“She sons that you uro. an (‘qua1!” the old cap-
tain declared. " You may be Dungerom Dave,
detoctive, or “'altcr Vincent, secretary; but
your, manhood shows like the sun through a

(lg.

“ Let it pass. I am domiciled at Thornholm,
and the work must go on. Little did I suspect,
when I entered upon the calling of a detective,
that I should ever be engaged in a case like thiS.
Money does not influence me now, yet it is a
greater and gr-inder game than I have ever be-
fore playod. Little do the people at the Lodge
suspcct that they have allowed a deadly enemy
to come into their very household l”

“ They deserve their fate.”

“ l have not won, yet.”

“ But you will.” I

“ We shall soc.”

“ You’ve been there two (in 5, now, 911?”

“ Yes, and no lcs<ons have men given Roland
Thoruholm yet. I’lmnly, the more thought of
them is torture to him, on] he flies to his dog
and horse for relief, and goes galloping across
the fields.”

“ W'hy can he want to take to books?”

“ I don’t know. It is a secret motive. Ed-
ward Cl’llpO knows what it is, and mention, or
thought, of study on Roland's part brings B
sneer to the old man’s face—often, too, in wordS,
to his lips. He don’t hesitate to irritate the
younger man." I

“ Ife’s reckless, isn’t he?” -

“ It would seem so. The first Mrs. Crapo had
a life-lease on the Lmlgc, but neither Edward
nor his present wife has any claim. Rola
could turn them into the street any hour, if he
saw fit. Crapo is next to a beggar, yet he seems
to feel no fear.”

“Singular!”

“ Yes. But, captain, time flies; we must part.
Are they all well at the house?”

it Yes.”

“I’ll see you all, soon. Just now, the Lodge
is all rent from parlor to kitchen ovcr Roland’s
approaching birthday party. I want to be
around. then, to watch the nabobs arrive; after
that, I’ll run down and see you.”

They arose and Vincent extended his hand.

“ Look out for yourself,” Norcross cautioned.
“ Roland would kill you, if he knew all.”

“Of that I am well aware, but he does not
know - it. I don‘t intend he shall until he is
ruined i"

 

CHAPTER II.
AN ENEMY IN THE HOUSE. .
THORNHOLM LODGE, as has already been indi-
cated, was one of the finest of country regidcnces
in Virginia, and had been in the possesswn of
the family for several generations
When, in 1832, Robert Allan Thornholm died,
he would have left no one to bear the old name
had it not been a at lation of his will that his
grandson, Roland hornholm Crapo, then a
mere child, should assume the name and the
heritage at one and the, same time. The elder
man had seen but one of‘ his children, a daugh-
ter, reach maturi , and Roland was the off-
spring of her ma go to Equrd Crapo.
score of years had seen many changes at
the lodge, and the old slaves related how Crapo’s
wife had died soon after her father; how her
husband had married a second time and, by
that union, became the father of a second child
a dun liter: and bow Roland Thornholm had
through his childhood and outh asthe
solo possessor of the family riches, is relatives
there only by tolerance.

. p0 and his wife, however, were us proud’
g though they owned one-half of Virginia, and. a

“3 m, Roland had never had any, trouble

A with them.

The cominiof the secretary, Walter Vincent,
appeiM ’to e a. trivial matter.‘or would have
Bison s: regal-dad lit it had noting-own the labor

9‘5“ .u n o and. /

Stud; til): latter certainly needed. for be was
rude, boorish and i orant to an unusual de-

96. but he tcpk to it as one does to unpalata-

le medicine. , 5. '

  

For somc‘ I l- ’ n he Wished to learn,
but he    most earnestly. 1He
was sensl ’   too: ‘

While his athen. . d_ bra , certame
knew of. and of the motive w ch prompted
it, Rois!  I’fla‘hurnest in "his  mimic:
tions to incest not to let any one know th’e,
truth. P is were to suppose the “ secretary

. m aim mply as a khan-writer and account-.. I

ant, while the schoolmaster part was to bean

- utter secret. , ‘
- But, while Roland was scheming to keg

others in ignorance, there were secrets. of Whi

 

 

 

 

 

 
   
  
 
 

 

 

 

  
 

Dangerous Dave.

3

 

 

he was ignorant, and the presence of Vincent at
the Lodge meant for more than be suspected.

When the so<called secretary returned to the
houve he retired like an innocent and pcuceuble
mun, but did not pass a night of unbroken slum-

n’l'.

The clock had just struck three when the door
of the room devoted to his private use. was open-
4- l and he appeared at the threshold.
«lid as during the day, and held a lamp in one
Land.

Pausing only to see that he was unobserved,
he then moved Softly along: the hall until he
reached a bolted door at the further end. This

. bolt he tried to push back, but the rust of years

held it firmly until several attempts had been
mode.

When it at last gave way he passed through
and closed the door behind him. Thelight of the
lamp revealed a narrow, dingy hull, where cob—
Webs and dust held Swav, but he was not sur-
prised. This was the older part of the Lodge,
and years had passed since, it had been occupied
— erhaps Since it had been visited.

ausing but fora moment he went forward,
and opening: another door, entered a room of
considerable size. From this opened other doors,
but he had arrived at his destination.

He looked about with marked interest.

A carpet of rich material cow-red the floor,
but. 'l‘iinc had touched it heavily, and it was old-
fashioned, faded, dust-covered. The antique
furniture remained, and around the walls hung

'a line of portraits, many of them overa hundred

years old, and by the painters of England.

The eyes of each pictured face seemed to the
intruder to turn u )on him, and he bowed his
head with an air li c one among the dead.

Arousing after a pause he directed his gaze
toward a cabinet which storid in one corner. It
was of ancient, clumsy style, but he advanced
with quicker steps than if it had been a wonder
of modern make.

For some time he looked it over critically, and
then set down his lamp and opened one of the
drawers. it contained a quantity of old news-
pupsrs, the dates of which were many years pre-
vious, but nothing more.

A similar result followed with the others, but
he did not seem discouraged. The lower drawer
remained open, and he began to run his hand
Carefully along the edges.

For some time nothing rewarded him, but
finally one half of the lower board slid buck un-
d-r the other half, and a second, secret drawer
was revealed below.

A score of folded pers met his gaze, and he
drew them out quic l , unfolding and g1ancing
at each. Every one was of value to the Thorn-
holm‘ family, but none satisfied Vincent. After
one glance each was tossed aside impatiently un-
til the last was in his hand.

Raising his gaze, he paused for a moment. '

“ It is the last chance!" he muttered. “ Should
this prove as useless as the others, my hopes are
dashed to the ground. Let me see!”

He opened the paper quickly, glanced at it
once, and then cast it aside.

r “ Baffled l” he added, gloomily. “I have
The paper
ess i

worked, planned and hoped in vain.
I so ardeutly desired is not here—doubt

t
, has been in ashes for nearly a score of years. I

almost wish I had not cometo Thornholm Lodge.
But, no, no; Iwill not be discouraged; I will
begin anew and get light in some way. Justice
is bound to triumph in the and. These papers
are of no use; I will replace them and return to
m . own chamber, there to scheme anew.”

fie restored the dra wer to its former condition
with meat; care, and then rose to leave the
room. ; ,

But again the eyes of the pictured faces ap.
peared to turn upon'hi’ml

.To him they had a deep solemuity, but it was
not mixed with my superstitions shrinking.
He advancod to the wall and began to examine
the various pictures. They were all that re-
mained of generation after eneration of the
Thornbolms, gallant men and utiful Women,
and were faces worth examination apd study.

At last ,he reached one which Was that of a
young lady, and so beautiful that his eyes
kindled With admiration. Surveying it in .ie—
tail, his gaze fell upon aname pointed at the
bottom: - *

. “Rosanmnl”

‘ It was not an uncommon name, bu at the
sight, Walter Vincent uttered a cry in face
changed color, and the lamp nearly fell from
his hand. ‘

Awhile he ,gazed at the icture, and then. as
if moved by a power be con d not resist, he fell
upon his knees, c his nds and bohed his
head before the like esso the dead. His li

moved, but, no audi 19 words gave clew to h s

., thoughts. , 1
Minutes go before Vincent ralsbd his head.
When he id, e former impression .that the.

pictured eyes ware regarding him with intelli-

' gence was stronger than ever; he could almost

have believed that he saw a smile upon the face.
Beautiful, ind must, .ve been the original,

and Vincent g i like one' outrun . The

well-rounded form, brightcyes, rosy c calm. and

ted, but kind, expression were very effective.
a r i .

i .
.n .

   

\
,r ,. ‘ . v»

He was :

‘persons unsafe.

 

   

Very like the Thornholms she had been, too, yet

i love, mid, as he expressed it, cast himself upon

the secretary had shown no great interest in l her mercy.

any other picture.

A strange sight it would have been had one of
the family seen their salaried man thus standing
fasoinutcd in the oil portrait-hull, and it was
Well for him that no one appeared.

He aroused with a start, at last, and with a ,

lingering farewell look at the picture, went to
the door by which he had entered.

“Enough for to-night,” he murmured. “ No
discoveries await me here, it seems. Ishould
despair if— But, patience, patience! In my
past detective work I have been called Danger-
ous Dave, becausa my pertinucity made guilty
Shall I be less resolute, now,
when my own interests are at stake? Nol I’ll
go on; I’ll win-if I can!”

He passed out of the room, again bolted the
donr, and returned to his own chamber.

The other inmates of the L )dge slept on,
little suspecting how the mysterious secretary
was passing his time.

CHAPTER III.
‘A QUESTION ASKED TOO LATE.

ROLAND TuonxnoLM went to work upon his
studies with the clumsy manner of one of his
pet dogs, his brain being about as unwieldy as
the big canines that accompanied him in the
chase.

His case was not hopeless, for, rough as he

~was, he was not devoid of a kind of brightness,

and, though \Vulter Vincent found a very un—
cultivated ilald in his employer's mind, he knew
there would be some improvement if Roland
ke t on.

at Roland had his mind full of other
thoughts. His horses, (logs and guns could not
be slighted, he thought; and the approaching
pirthday party took up what little time was
aft. -

The latter momentous occasion arrived. Soon
after noon the invited guests began to come in
their carriages. Vincent sat at an upper win-
dow, and an aged slaw, who had taken a fancy
to him, stood by his side and Commented on each
arrival.

“ Dat air am Cap’n Hereford,” he announced,
at one point. “ He went down to Texico, or
some Seen place, an’ fi’t against (in Mexaus. He
am a drefl’ul brave man.”

“ He has a fine, soldierly figure, and hand:
some, manly face. Who is in the next carriage?”

“That am John Jay Lennox, a emman as
rich as de cap’n, or my own master: at I don‘t
like him. They do say, though, dat he wants
fer ter marry Miss Veva.”

“ Do they?" returned Vincent, smiling.
“ Probably that is an error. I believe that when
she cliOOSPl a husband, it will not be an cfiemi-
nate dandy.” '

“ Hi! you see dut lady jest ’lightiu’?”

“ Yes; and she is remarkany handsome.” .

“ Dat am Miss Bereuice Roya stcn,do daughter
ob om ob do richest man around hyar; de bosom
frieu’ ob Miss Veva, an’ du ’flanced wife ob
Massa Roland. He’s rightlucky tar get her.”

“ Rather!” Vincent agreed, dryly.

Other guests were introduced to his pttcntiou
in like way, but be tired of it, at last, and, go-
ing to the library. found as much pleasure in the
company of the books as if he had been among
the favored merry-makers. Yet, it appeared
that his thoughts wandered, for, once, he raised
his head with the remark:

’ “ Nonsense! She would not be so foolish 1"

He had been thiukin what the old slave said
about Veva and John ay Lennox.

Somewhat later he went tothe window. The
guests were grouped in the grounds in parties
or var lug size gr moving about, and at one.
mint 0 saw (’3 ptain Hereford and Bereuice
Royalstou walking side by side.

meant was an observing man, and, after
watching them for a moment, he shrugged his
shoulders and muttered: '

“ My advice to noble Roland Thornholm is
that ha_ looks well‘ tobis afl‘ianccd Wifeh'f. in-
deed, Miss Royalston has that doubtful honor.
She and her present com nion seem to be sus-
piciously good friends. hat if Roland should
lose her?” , '

They.certain‘ly made a flue—looking couple as
the moved along the tree-bordered walk. Hero-
for was tall. strong, of soldierl carri and
manly and refined i all ways. iss Roya ston
lost notbin in sun company, for she was, in-
deed, a rare y beautiful woman, huddled all the
graces of high breeding. \ ‘

Vincent_ had not incorrectly.er Hereford's
manner. and, when the latter skillfully drew

Baronice away from the other  be" had a,

fixed Eur in view.

He ad never heard that she was engaged to
Roland Thor-mom, and be intended to place his
own fate in her hands as frankly as an honest
man might. u . '

At the extremity of the grounds he found a
rustic seat where they could sit down, and, after"
t

assuring him]: that boy were alone, be ap-
proached the subject. - ' . l
e was a soldier, soothers was a trace of
military abruptnesc in the way he made the
proposal; but words did not fail him. 'In so
tones and strong '10er he widths-story of

1",: fjpl, 7h

'fied.

 

  
  

and

-Little did he suspect how his declaration
would be received, I
As soon as BermiiCe understood its purpo

, she had grown agiluicd, and, once, had extends
[ her hand in a vain attempt to stop him.

Un-
known to him she had tried to interrupt in some
other way, but speecn had failed her in the
(Tl-41s.

She was the victim of deepest emotion.

Suspez'ting nothing, Herel'crd looked to her
for his answer, but, even in her face, he read
something which chilled him.

SLe seemed more than confused;
tion even partook of terror.

“ Foi'hear, Arthur, forbear!” she gasped.

The captain regarded her in consternation.
Refusal he had thought possible, but what
meant such profound distress?

“ Forbenr?” be repeated. mechanically.

” Yes, and—have mercy l”

Hereford movod resilessly.

“ I don’t understand 1” he returned.
what way have I been unmerciful?"

Berenice had seemed about to give way to
tears, but the last words aroused her.

“Not that!” she cried. “ I did not know
what I said. You are more. than merciful; you
are noble and kind, but I cannot be your wife!”

u ‘vhygfi ’ ’

The single word escaped Hereford’s lips almost
peremptorily.

“ I am to be the wife of Roland Thornholm!”

She Spoke brokenly, but he understood not
only the u ords but their import, and he saw his
dreams of the future float away like more air.

“ Thornholm’s wife!"

" Yes; we have been betrothed for a month,
and the engagement was to be—i's to be~made
public this evening. ”

“ I did not suspect this.”

“ Yet, it is true.”

“ And i hava spoken too late?”

“ Too late ."’

There was an emphasis on the words; an in—
flection which did not escape his notice; and he
looked at her more keenly. He had seen Thorn-
holni as>ist her from her‘carriage that day, and
could almost have sworn that she disliked to
have his hand touch her own.

All this recurred to him, and, as he observed
her present look, a strong suspicion crossed his
mind. '

“ Pardon me, Berenice, but I have thought, at
times, that you cared for me." 

her agita-

H In

She was conscious of his close scrutiny, al-

though she turned her head away. and he could
see her tremble. He could not restrain the
vmrds w 'ch rose to his lips, though aware that
it might not be manly to thus address the pledged
wife of another.

“ Have I no place in your affections?” he add—
ed

“ Yes, yes: oh! yes!" she cried, quickly.

“ Then what is my ‘place, if you are betrothed
to Thornholmf” he ad ad, venturing to take her
hand.

She averted her face, but did not answer. Her
emotion remained very perceptible, however,
and Hereford Was puzzled. . .

“Tell me the truth,” be urged, eagerly; “do
you love me?”

Quickly, impulsively came the answer.

“ I do, I do; more than I love my own life!”

“ Then why, in Heaven‘s name, are you the
betrothed of Thornholml—why have you placed
this barrier between us?” I

The soldier’s voife. was thrilling and intense,
but its very vehem nce and power brought Ber
enice back to prudence. She suddenly started
to her feet.

“ What did I say?" she gasped, like one terri-
“ I did not intend tos k; I did not know
what I said. Oh! Arthur, orget it: forget all,
except that we are friendth that am to
marry Roland Thornholm.”

“ It must not, shall not be!" Hereford cn'ed,
almost fiercely. “ You have confessed your love
for me, so you cannot lovo Thornholm. Such a
marriage would be a sin, and you shall not make
it. Riemember on are a Royalston l" ‘

“Stop! stop! she returned, tremulously. “It
is for you to remember I am not free to hear
such words.”

“ But, Bereuice, why did you pledge yourqu
to him, while lovin me?” i

“ h! eaveu, I wasmad,desperatel
Because my heart was wrung to its center.”

“ How. and by whom?" , p .

“ I cannot tell.” I

“ Was it Thornholm’s world" ‘

“No, no; he had no party in the affair. ‘ I
lookedto myself, alope.”  '

“I am wholly _
,and confused. Bérenlce, what, secret is this
Which bids fair to dirk!!! both our liver-3?"? ‘

She was about to answer, though her manna-
gave Hereford no ‘ ,‘ when footsteps sounded
on the graveled we k, and, looking up, they
saw Roland Thornhcm approaching. .

There are" calm persons who Have the fact:
of rallying from deep emotion with singu I

icknels, and of appearing composed immow‘
Miter. Such was the case with Botanic.

capimn.

1,») x

  
  
 

  
   

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crushed back all the tell-tale signs and grew
calm to an admirable degree.

Roland had seized a. few minutes away from
his duties as host to seek his betrothed. When
he first saw her with Hereford he experienced a
degree of jealousy, but the manner of the couple
put him at ease.

During the unimportant conversation which
followed the captain was polite and natural, and
Berenice, Smiling lightly, was even brilliant at
times.

Hereford, however, was in a miserable frame
of mind.

In a. short time they were joined by Veva
Crapo and John Jay Lennox. The former
looked relieved at having her escort partially off
her hands. but Mr. Lennox had neVer been in
better spirits.

He was a weak man, physically and mentally.
He had an effeminate face, wore an eye glass,
and would have been the object of many slights
had he not, fortunately for himself, been a man
of wealth.

As such he had lenty of so-called friends and
a larger array of atterers.

After some further conversation all the party
went to the house, and Veva embraced the
chance to convey Berenice to her room.

“I’m just as be py asIcan bel”Veva de-
clared, confidentially, “ for the long—expected
evening has arrived at last. To-night your en-
gagement to Rolan will be announced and an-
other step will have been taken to ma e us sis-
ters in fact as we have long been at heart.
Roland has done one sensible thing. at least, by
choosing you. Oh! I shall lose my wits when
{(33 come here to reign as mistress of the

e!

” fear we shall live together but a few
mongbs, if Mr. Lennox continues so devoted to
you.

“Oh, nonsense! I hope you don’t think I
would marry him! He is so shallow his society
is perfect misery to me. But I suppose you
can’t see it, in your own happiness.”

It was a loving supplement to her remarks,
but Berenice turned away to hide her own look
of bitter sorrow.

CHAPTER IV.
THE DETECTIVE’S STRONG HAND.

IN another room Captain Hereford was ner-
vously pacing the floor. He had been inter-
rupted in his interview with Berenice, and it
seemed to him that his whole future depended
upon seein her again before the hatefulengageo
ment coul be announced.

The chance at last arrived, for, soon after
Berenice and Veva emerged from the latter‘s
room, she was called away by business.

Hereford went quickly to Berenice’s side.

“ Is the announcemant to be made to-nighti”
he asked abruptly.

is Yes.”

 

The answer was prompt, but not firm, and she
avoided his gaze.

“ What are you about to do?” he demanded.
“You have ackn0wledged that your heart is
mine, et you will go on and give your hand to
Thorn olm. Is this right? is it just?”

She lifted her head quickly, and he saw her
lips uiver.

“ c you think you suffer alone?" she asked,
almost in a whisper. “ Do you think I have no
heart? Ohl Arthur, I am miserable, miser»
erablel”

Then why, why do you make this sacrifice?”

“ I am betrothed to Roland.”

“ Engagements have been broken before, and
may be broken again. I would not ask you to
do anything not strictly hohbrable, but, surely,
a Woman can committ no greater wrong than
to ive her hand without her heart."

be last words seemed, to her, to have an un-
kind inflection.

“ If I were wholly free, Arthur Hereford, I
ficuld never become your wife!” she declared,

“ nd yet you say on love me?”

“ Forget those wor s—I asked on to forget
them as a man of honor shoul 1 They were
thou htlessly spoken.”

” ardon me, Berenice, but I want to under-
stand this. What is the secret which leads you
along a path so strangei You smile on Roland;
you have promised to marry him; yet you have
no affection f him. You confess that you care
for me, but a d that, if you were free, on could
never become in wife. Why is this I think
you” owe an up atlon to yourself, if not to
me. 7

The soldier stood erect, his arms folded, his
face full of powerful emotion. but Bernice did
not look at him.

“ I cannot!” she faltercd.‘

" Cannot ‘ ‘

“ Do not ask me, for my lips are sealed. ,,What-
ever the score I shall carry it to my grave."

“ Is it snyth ng I have done!"

“Oncsmorelsay.donotaskmc. Fromthis
time I have nothing to say, and I entiut on to
bomercifui. Do not take advantage a wo-
man’s has but understand that your suit is
utter] hops Wears to be friends—nothing

 

more
Attiniss, whilsthssswcrdswcrebdngqioksn.

 

she had shown a dignity and firmness which
told him how vain would be further appeal, and,
though the last sentence again revealed her
mental perturbation, he had no reply ready.

Before he could rally, Veva appeared close at
hand, and Berenice hastened to join her.

Hereford was left confused, wretched and
amazed.

What was he to make of such conduct?

He could not surmise the secret motive that
actuated Berenice. He was, himself, of a noble
and wealthy family: his record was uiitarnished:
and he Could see no motive for her coarse. It
was rendered all the more strange because, hav—
ing known her all his life, he was well aware
that she was not one to be weak, uncertain or
vacillating.

However, he could do no more than to endure
it as patiently as possible. He could not control
her actions, and, if she saw. fit, she, with her
highly intellectual and refined nature, could
marry a man who cared for nothing higher than
the pleasures springing from the company of
bursts and dogs.

Submit “.6 captain must, but he could not do
it gracefully.

He was ‘a poor companion during the rest of
the day and evening, and when, finally, the
hateful engagement was publicly announced, it
was well no one looked toward him.

\Vhile others smiled, he scowled darkly.

And when, later, others pressed forward to
congratulate Berenice and Roland, his voice
was not heard. He kept apart, and ,the dark
look did notleave his face.

He was glihd when the evening was ended, and
was one of the first to leave Thornholm Lodge.
He went without speech with Berenice.

In the meanwhile one person was having the
grounds back of the house all to himself. While
festivities reigned within, Walter Vincent walk-
ed alone and smoked contentedly.

At times, he glanced toward the mansion
with a cynical smile. He did not env'y any one
there, or feel resentment because he, as a salaried
man, was barred out of the grand occasion.

0n the contrary, he looked with contempt on
the whole affair.

His past life had been such that he was not in
love with the frivolitles or amusements of the
rich and fashionable part of mankind.

Only one thing there drew his thoughts.
Veva Crapo appeared to belong to an entirely
difl‘,’ rent order of human beings. He tried in
vain to think of her With indifference. If, for a
little while, he thought he had succeeded, her
own bright face and kind words dispelled the
delusion.

She was his only real associate in the mansion.

Roland, as has already been seen, gave only a
few unwilling minutes to his studies, and then
went 03 with his favorite horses and dogs; Ed-
ward Crapo peased his time in idling about the
house and in talking litics in the club-house
at Glenville; while rs. Crapo divided her life
betwaen calling upon her neighbors and languid
endurance of life n her own room.

Thus it was that none of them was a companion
for either Veva. or Vincent, and that the latter
two, havin similar tastes. often met in the
grounds an unknown to Veva’s relatives, en-
jo ed long conversations.

he always treated the secretary as an equal;
she was always kind, gracious and charming.

She had .1 strong influence upon him, though
he tried to prevent it. He expected to bringl
trouble to her, and those most closely connecte
with her, in the future. and felt that he ought
not to win her favorable opinion.

Good resolutions are more often made than
adhered to, and the charm of her presence was
so strong that he did not succeed in acting an
indifferent part.

He saw that she appeared to enioy his com-

ny and permitted it, own whi e accusing

imself of allvmannor of baseness.

He could see the danger of which she was
ignorant, yet he al10wed her to go on blindly.

These accusing’ thoughts were in his mind
when the carriage of the late guests were depart-
ing. The occasion was over, and he could soon
return to his room with a p t of peace, but
he lin ered to finish his cigar, and still paced
the we 1:.

Ten minutes later other footsteps sounded.
He looked up. Some one was approaching; a
lady who wore a light white shawl over her
goulders; and he could not fail to recognize

8V3.

He stopped, uncertain whether to meet or to
avoid her.

The bushes rustled; a man sprung out and
stood in her path. -

“ Hyar we be, in pretty darlin’l” he growled.
“ Come! give us a iss!”

Veva uttered a faint cry and turned to flee.
A second man stood in her path. The first

‘ lau&hod in mocking trium h.

‘ alhalmy darlin’t" cried, “ you can’t
run the gentler. Give it n , an say that you
love us. Class up, comrade '

Walter Vincent had been as much largo-inert
as Veva, but he want slowtorecogn the
men. They were Drake Hodge and Black Tuck,
the swamp rcfu mad as usuai.,they were
full of We hisf.

 

His blood boiled, metaphorically, at the idea
that they should be so iiisolent us to molest
Xeva, and he sprung to her rescue with headlong

aste.

Black Tuck was first in his path, and lie felled
that rson with one well-directed blow. Then
he seized Hodge and began to belabor him with
energy and anger.

There were times when the swamp outlaw
could fight with the fury of a cornered bear, but
this was not one of them. He hated the wealthy
planters, but feared them even more. His law-
less instincts often led liiin to prowl around their
grounds for per sea of plunder, but he rarely
Could be induc to stand his ground there when.
confronted with danger.

On this occasion he began to beg cravenly.

“ Don'tl don’t! You’ll mash my head in! You
hurt! I ain’t done nothin’. Come, now, don’t!
Let a feller be i”

A warning cry arose from Veva. Black Tuck
had risen, drawn a knife and was creeping upon
the young detective. The latter turned just in
time. For a moment he was in danger, for he
must meet the armed negro without a weapon,
but his sudden turn dazed Tuck for a moment.

That was enough for Vincent.

He struck out in the effective way well known
to him, and Tuck almost turned a back somer-
set as he Went crashing into the bushes.

That was enough for the outlaws; as soon as
the negro could arise, they bounded away in
ggadlong haste. Vincent turned impulsively to

eva. "

“ Are you hurt?” he demanded.

"Oh, no.”

“Thank heaven for that!”

There was more of fervency in his manner
than be imagined, and Veva‘s voice was low and
peculiar as she replied: _

“ Do you really think the safety of such an in-
significant creature of importance?”

‘ Insignificant l”

The secretary spoke the word with emphasis,
but the utterance was followed by a return to
his usual prudence.

“ We should quarrel over that word if you in—
sisted upon it. but you ought to know that you
are too mportant a feature of Thornholm Lodge
life to app y it. One thing I must reprove you
for—you have run into danger to-night."

" I was aftera, lost handkerchief; and did not.
dream that those horrible men would be near.
Ugh! Isuppose you know them Well; they are
the lshmaels of this region.”

“ I’ve seen them before. Do they often come
near here?” '

“ I never knew of their doing 80 before."

“ Well, you have timely warning now, and I
need not urge the need of future caution. Those
fellows are fit companions for no one save the
hangman.”

 

CHAPTER V.
THE OLD SLAVE SPEAKS WORDS or INTEREST.

VEVA‘S lost handkerchief was found without
great trouble by the side of one of the walks, and
Vincent then escorted her to the mansion. She
showed no haste to go inside, and, having fully
recovered from her fright, talked pleasantly, but
he would not have tle interview prolonged.

He said good-night. but she delayed him until
she could thank him again for saving her from
the swamp outlaws.

He finally went away in a mood of. irritation.

“ Another unfortunate occurrence!” he thought.
“ She is young, and this rescue will appeal to the
romance that is in nearly every refined person at
her age. I only hope she won’t oveido it. As
Walter Vincent I would not see her suffer; as

Dangerous Dave, the Never-Beaten Detective, I »

am bound to wound her sorely. anon, and make
her hate me. I must avoid her i"

It was a good resolution, but, the next morn-
ing, as be walked in the grounds, Veva descend-
ed upon him, radiant in beauty and bright of
manner.

“ I want to ve you a new pleasure, Mr, Vin-
cent!” she dec ared. “Won see the negro quaro
ten-s, yonder? Well, down in one of those cabins
lives an old colored woman who has been a ser-
vitor to the Thornholms for sixty-five years.
She is still rugged except for a spinal disease
caused bv a fall, and is one of the best old souls
living. We are great friends, and I often visit
her, though she never ceases to t that I am
not a Thornholm. In her eyes, there is no other
gigflygqual to them on earth. Let me take you

er!

A sudden, peculiar light leaped 1090 Vincent’s
eyes. but he was calm again in a mpment.

“ Nlothing would please me more, he returned.
quiet .

The’y’ were soon at the cabin.

The place w simple, but superiorto the other
cabins, I“ m sat in abig chair—a woman
Whose hair w as‘ white as her face was dark.
Plainly, she was of unmixed blood.

Vincent’s first glance showed her to be a rather
uncommon ncgren, however, for her features
were regular and her c ression surprisingly in-
telligent. She was gnu ily dressed. and, at first
sight, gave no indication of the infirmity which
had c pplcd. but not emaciated her

flashed quickly to her companion.

Her eyes brightened it sightof Veva. and then

  

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“Phillis,” explained Miss Crapo, “this is my
brother‘s secretary, Mr. Vincent.”

The woman was looking With strange intent-
ness, and made no answer until the detective
stepped forward and took her hand; but the
sound of his voice in kindly words aroused her,
and she smiled like herself. ‘

“It‘s proper good for you-’uns ter come an’
see, der old brack Woman,” she declared. . “ Miss
Veva does so often, but she an’ I is old
friends.”

“ I hope you will add me to your list,” Vin-
cent answered, pleasantly. “I always had a
fancy for elderly people, and I‘m sure we would
not« normal.”

“ 'f you kin bear it, sah, I shall be glad to
see you. PS an old woman, an’ as I can’t go
nowhar without my crutch, I don’t see many
folks.”

“ You certainly shall see me,” was the re-

3 use.

pli‘or half an hour they remained, and he studied
the negress carefully. She was talkative and
jovial, strangely intelligent for one in her sta-
tion, and devoted to the Thornholms.

All her life had been passed on the plantation
in the service of the family, and its honor was
as dear to her as though she had been more than
a slave: but Vincent noticed that she made no
mention of Roland, seeming to dwell on the past
in reference to the resent.

hen her guests eparted both promised to
call again, but Phillis was surprised at tho
pl‘oniptness with which Vincent kept his word.

It lacked an hour of sunset when he again en-
tered, bringing some flowers; and this roof of
thoughtfulness quite overwhelmed t e aged
woman.

In the conversation which followed, his affabil-
it and faculty of adapting himself to all grades
0 society still further impressed her.

“You ought ter have been horned a Thom-
holml” she declared, at last, with emphasis.
“ You look jest like dem, an’ talk like deml”

“ Yet, I can’t even claim one dro of family
blood in common with Roland,” incent care-
lessly returned. “ He is, I believe, the last of
the Thornholms.”

“:Yes, sah; an’ more’s de pity. Dar was a
time when dar was plenty of de n, but when de
three sons of Mason Robert Allan Thornholm
died, it left Miss Rosalind do last of de young
generation.”

~ “ And she married Edward Crapo?”

“ Yes. snh; an’ Massa Roland am her son.”

“ Is he like his grandfather, this Robert Allan

Thornholm of whom you speak?"
- “ Like him? Oh! no, sah; Massa Roland am
very different, th in his looks an’ his ways.
You resemble de Thornholms more dan he
does!”

“ Indeed! lVell, he does not seem much like
Edward Crapo, either.”

“ Dey am alike in one way, an’ that is—”

« Phillis paused abruptly, but, as Vincent did
not speak, slowly added:

“ Neither is like de Thornholms.”

“ Was Crapo of as good birth as Miss Rosa-
lind?” carelessly inquired the secretary.

“ Was he? VVal, sah, ef you had heard 01’
Massa Robert storm when do marriage was first
made kiiOwn to him you’d hab thought not I
You see, sah, it was a secret marriage. assa
Crapo come to de neighborhood from—nobod
knows u har—an’ as be war den youn , han -
some an’ dashin’, my poordlIiss Rosalind fell in
love “ill him, an’ married him unknown to
everybody." _

“ it was a case of mutual love, then?”

Vincent asked the question quietly, and ap-
peared only moderately interested, but some-
thing~was it secret emotion—had flushed his
cheeks. -

“She loved him, but dar was them who said
he Cured only fur her money.”

“ Do you believe it?”

“ It ain't fur me ter judge, but I do know
.Massu Robert called him a fortune-hunter.”

“ Doubtless, he had other plans for his daugh-
ter‘s future.” .

“ Yes, sah: at least, he wanted her to many
an e nal.” . ‘

“ X at, h forgave them?”

“ Not f two years, sah, an’ den he saw do
baby—Maser; Roland—an’ took sech a. fancy t')
him dnt he let them all come to de Lodge to
live. \Val, ssh. I Was glad to see Miss Rosalind
back, but a year made'great changes in do family.
First. Mass". Robert died, an’ den when do rest
ob de family Went travelin’, iss Rosalind
new-r come back!"

_Vincent aroae, went to the window, and, with
hisb back to Phillis, made a pretense of looking
on .

“ HOW was that?” he asked in a low voice.

“ ‘ie died in Cuba, sub, ob yellow fever, an’
den rassa Roland on] four years old, was do
last of Thornholm 

“ How did Edward Crapo and the child ss-
cape the fever!" Vincent asked, in a voice!
strangely harsh. " .

" De good Lord knows, Bali; 1 don’t; But I
know they came back to de Lodge. Miss Rosa-
lind never came, though, for she was sleepin’
lander de tropic'sun.”

prevented reply at once. When he did speak
is voice was husky.

“ You must have mourned for her, Phillis.”

“I did, I didl” declared the aged woman,
while tears ran freely down her face. “ I loved
her more dan my own life.”

Vincent wheeled, advanced to her side and
laid his hand upon her arm.

“Affection which endureth through so many
years will one day be rewarded, Phillis. The
way and the time no man can tell, butyour
Miss Rosalind sees you from Heaven and loves
you still!”

The words and the tremor of his voice Went
straight to the aged woman’s heart. Her re-
sponse was quick.

“ Bless you, sah_; bless youl Now you speak
like Miss Rosalind.” -

“Indeed! lVell, Phillis, loving her as you
did, of course you were glad to see young Ro-
land, child though he was; and you recognized
him at once?”

“Nobody at de Lodge had seen enough ob
him for dat. Soon after he was brought here
first, Massa Robert died, an’ den Massa Roland
was took abroad.”

“ But he had the Thornholm features?”

“No. I s’pose he was like do Crapos, fur
Massa Edward said he was jest like his gran’-
father; but we all ‘s’posed he had a Thornholm
heart until he showed us do contrary.”

“ Is he not popular now?”

Phillis looked up suddenly.

” I’s sayin’ too much, sahl” she declared. “ I
have no right to talk ob de Thornholms like
this. Massa Roland would not like it!"

“Your kind words for Miss Rosalind make
amends for all. 'Of course Roland cherishes her
memory?”

“I don’t know,” sighed Phillis. “Her por-
> trait hangs in (16 old gallery, but I don’t know
that Massa Roland ever goes there. But she
was an angell” ,

“ Right, Phillis, righti—at least, I feel sure of
it from what you’ve said,” the secretary added,
breaking off an impulsive speech peculiarly.

d_ “9991:, Massa Crapo married a year after she

let .

“Of which marriage Miss Veva is the sole
offspring?” -

“ Yes, sah; an’ ain’t she like Mi Rosalind?”

Phillis’s voice was full of enthusiasm, but, as
another negress entered, Vincent did not pursue
the conversation further.

Taking formal leave he walked toward the
Lod 6, his face grave and set.

/“ must be alone,” he thought; “ the story
has stirred me up powerfully. They have
called me Dangerous Dave in the past—pray
geavenln I may be doubly dangerous in the

Male

 

\

CHAPTER VI.

CRAPO INAL’GL‘RATES A MYSTERY.

ON the following day Vera and Roland rode
Over to Royalston Hall to visit Berenme. Sev-
eral months were to,eln so before the contem-
plated wedding, but R0 and was not an indif~
ferent suitor, and, as has been shown already,
the girls were fast friends.

A discovery grew out of this ride.

Upon their arrival, Berenice had er own
horse saddled, and the three rode aongu the
northern road, passing the Herefocd plantation,
'and, ultimately, taking the river road.

Roland failed. in his duty as an escort: a
summer shower came up quickly, with black
clouds, and,,fiually, violent winds; but neither
he nor the ladies noticed it until the rain was
close at hand.

He was not to be blamed. Rude and rough
as howas, he was deeply infatuated with Bere—
nice, and, in her presence, forgot even his horses
and dogs.

His motive for taking to school-books at his
age was simple. She was refined and educated,
he was coarse and unlearned. One day it
occurred to him that, to hold her supppsed
affection, he must know more I

His resolution was at once made; he hired
Vincent to teach him; he honestly intendedto
learn—but not for any money would he have
had Berenice, or any outsider, know he had a
schoolmaster at work on his dull wits. ‘

It was torture for him to stud ,.all of which
proved how much he cared for erenice. when
he would endure so much to make himself more
lit for her society.

It was the same undoubted regard for her
that made him oblivious of the thunder-shOWer.
\ When it pounced upon them, as yet minus the
rain, they rode at a gallop, but must ceitainly
have been drenched'had not Hereford flail been
reached. _,

Roland proposed that they stop and seek
the captain shospitality. Berenice shrunk from
the roposal; much rather would she endure
all t e rain“ She had not forgotten that pain-
fultiinterview; she knew Hereford had not for:
go ten.

Nevertheless, she could not persist in facing
the impending outburst of Nature without ex-
giting comment. She yielded; they entered the

case.

 

A strange quivering of the secretary’s face

. i .r . ‘
‘4‘,’ ' .‘ l. 1

. 1
Captain; Hereford received all with even polite-

! ‘_ x.‘

y mi V
. l , . , ,- ,-
» . _, ‘g. y  Hi, 3 . Av] - a; a ,

ness. He knew his duty as a host, and even
Roland could not complain. Not by word or
look did the strong officer remind Berenice of
their late strange interview.

Yet, one discovery came of it.

They were in the Hereford parlor while the
wind was driving the rain wildly aganist the
windows. Among the captain’s pictures was
one representing a ridge in Mexico where he had
led a charge against the enemy. Veva was en-
rnptured with it, and made him tell of the red
day of battle, While Roland and Berenice stood
by a table at the other end of the room, looking
at a rare book of engravings.

Hereford told the stor well ut his heart
was not in the work. \ 'ith the short-sighted-
ness of the man, he allowed his gaze to stray to
the other couple; with the quick perception of
Woman, cha read the gaze.

She was at once startled and grieved.

“ Poor fellow! he loves her !” thought the girl.
“ I‘m sorry, for he is noble and good. Perhaps,
though, it’s just as well that the marriage con-
tract has been announced!”

She was not unconscious of Roland’s deficien-
cies in certain directions, nor of Herei‘ord’s
natural abilities.

Still, it alarmed her that the latter should
really care for Roland’s betrothed, and she was
glad when, as ni ht drew near, the rain ceased
and a slender ine of blue appeared at the
horizon. ‘

Their horses were brought, and they departed
at a gallop.

The way was no longer pleasant. Deep mud
covered the road, and, when they entered the
wood beyond the Hereford estate, rain dripped
from the branches.

“ Ugh l“ exclaimed Veva, with a shiver.
“ How gloomy it is. Such nights remind me of
the ghosts my old nurse used to tell me about.”

"‘ l‘Vould that it were no worse,” returned
Berenice. . '

" What! are you too, depressed of spirits?” I

“ Who wouldn’t be, with the rain pattering
on one’s back ?”

Berenice tried to make the reply very matter-
of—fact, but she was glad that the artial dark-
ness hid her face;the ordeal at ereford Hall
had been severe, and she wished it well over;
she wished to be alone.

further. '

The wood they were traversing stretched away
fora mile or more at their right, but was, in
places, only a fringe of bushes on the left, next
to the river. -

being sprung out and stood in their path.

The light was sufli ient to reveal a woman of
wild and wretched apikarance. Her hair floated
loosely, and her dress seemed like a mere sack.
She raised both hands on high, and Vem uttered
a faint cry of alarm.

The horses had gaused and, anxious to flee,
were pulling at the it.

“ Go back! go back i" ordered the strange wo-
.man in a hollow you-e.

Roland uttered a savage exclamation. De-
tecting that the unknown was deranged, he was
all the more angry. The unfortunate had none
of his sympathy.

“ Out of the way, woman !”-he cried ; and, strik-
ing his horse sharply, rode toward her with a
force which bade fair to trample her under foot.

Berenice and Veva, experienced fresh alarm,
but, keeping her place,_the mad-woman seized
thelhorse by the rein and brought it to a stand-
sti .

“ Ha! hal ha l" she laughed mockingly: “ the
way is not as smooth as you thought. Be“ are
of the day when the weak shall be strong, and
the strong shall be weak. Give me one-half of
the road and ride on i”

The situation nettled Roland still further, and
he half-raised his whip, but prudence returned.
He dared not strike a blow against such an
Object in Berenice-’3 presence. -

“ She is crazy,” he remarked, as philosophical-
ly as possible. “ Let us go quietly.” \

He turned his horse to ride around the woman,
who folded her arms, but Veva looked at her
intently. '

“ We must not go without her. If she is in-
sane, it is our duty to aid her. In any case, she
is'wretched.”

The woman laughed unmusicall : then,
suddenly wheeling, leaped again into t e wood,
and her footsteps were heard in rapid retreat.

“ U<eless!” obmrved Berenice, sadly. “ Let
us go!”

“ But we ought to help hvr.”

“ \V e cannot find her in the woods.”

“ Of course not; the idea is absurd l”

The last words, roughly spoken, were from
Roland, but Veva, realised that they were true.
She said no more, and they went on. ’

The girls Speculpted considerably as to the
identity of the unfortunate wanderer, and com-
mented on her hard fortune in having to pass
the night in the water-drenched wood. Roland
had nothing to say; he was glad that one who
had dared lay a hand on his rein should have a .
lot so hard.

 

Berenice wayleft at her home, and Veva and

She was destined to have her nerves tried \

Suddenly, from the undergrowth, a human .

Roland went on alone. Once, the kind-hearted \

 

 

 

...h~.v -v a, . M. .

.. .... . a... ..

 

 

(I.

  

6

. Dangerous Dave.

 

 

girl suggested that some of the nogroes be sent
to aid the unfortunate, but she was answered
so harshly that she abandoned the idea. with a
sigh.

When they reached Thornholm Lodge they
were observed from an open window by Ed-
ward Crupo, who called a slave and gave the
order: .

“ Request my son to join me here when he has
eaten.”

Then he lifted a book from the table and be-
gun to read. It was a strange occupation for
one who usually disdained books.

During the afternoon his studious employ-
ment had been observed by his wife, who had
taken pains to discover, afterward, what the
book was.

“ The Life of Napoleon!” she murmured.
“ Something is on Mr. Crapo’s mind!"

The strongest-minded men often have pecu-
liarities. Crapo had his, and his wife know it;
she knew that, when he had any great under-
taking on hand, he invariably took to perusing
the Life of Napoleon. In the career of that re-
markable man of destiny he found courage, in-
spiration and resources.

Edward Crapo was, really. almost a pcnnilcss
man. By the will of Robert Allan Thornholm
his son-in-law could claim nothing. The first
Mr. Crapo, as has been explained before, had a
life-lease on the Lodge, as a home; Crapo had
nothing.

“Then Mrs. Crapo died, Edward remained for
awhile because there was no one to object.
When Roland grew up, want of objection on
his pai't enabled his father to remain.

Though almost penniless, Crapo was as proud
a man, in appearance. as any in Virginia. He
carried his head as high as the highest; he was
cold, haughty and reserved; he wore the clothes
pf poverty with the air of one possessing mill-
one.

From Roland he received food and shelter,
and nothing more. A slender income of his own
enabled him to meet current expenses. Yet, he
Wasalways near the low-water mark.

Having given the message to the servant,
Crapo resumed reading the Life of Napoleon.
Schemes were in his mind, and he wanted
strength and inspiration.

Roland finally answered the call.

“ You wanted tosee me?” he be anz brusquely.

“ Yes,” Edward calmly re liei . ‘ A horse is
to be sold at Glenville which wish to purchase.
He can be had for five hundred dollars, and I
can double the money in six months. Un—

. luckily,” he calmly added, ‘5 I am penniless, and
my quarterly income is not due for four weeks.
Can ou loan me the money?”

R0 and looked in amazement, and then laughed

loud.
“ What i” he exclaimed, “ are you ambitions
to become a. sporting man
The elder man’s firm face did not change ex-

pression.

“ I’m ambitions to make five hundred dollars
on the sale,” was his even re ly.

A “ Have you faith in your Judgment?”

“ I have roved my judgment in the past,”
Cra calm y answered. “ I made my son heir
of hornholin!"

“ Zoundsl so you did, and I admire your taste.
To prove it, I will marry an heirem, as you did
in your youth. Have the five hundred? Of
course you can, and my blessing with it. Bu
the horse; buy a. dozen of them; and then I l
build a new stable, and we will turn the whole
State pale with envy l”

“ Thanks!” returned Mr. Grape, without the
least show of feeling.

“' Anything more?”

it No.”

“ Then I’m 0 .” ,
Roland left the room. He had agreed to the
oposal readin ‘because, since it concerned a
. area, it touched his weakest spot; but, later, he
thought of it with wonder.
“ Strange!” he muttered. “ He nevar asked
mom» of me before. What can he want of this
(horse I really believe he is deeper than I have
' thOught ”

l i
Doepefl' If the speaker had but known it, his
father’s mind was so deep that he, d‘ull-witted
Ibraggart, could not even surmise its reach and

 

anPrER vn.
m Pumas maximum amount.

BY the following day nearly everv si u of the
shower had panned away,'and Rolan Thorn—
holm lost lift a time, after breakfast, in getting
his gun and walking rapidly away, with a hound
_ at his heels. . .

I - Vincent, seeing thll from a window, smiled
slightly.

" . That looks like a truant scholar, and no
school,” he thou ht. “ Once let him get into the
-_ woods and he in ii forget that there is such a
‘ 5 thing in the world as the French lagnunge."

I i Roland had forgotten it already. On the pre-
- vions day he had set a trap on due of the tribu-
{mi-y streams of the river, and, in his anxiety to
learn if anything had been caught, he remem-

' bored nothing else. ‘ V . v
'- A portion of his heart had been, surrendered

 

 

   

to Bercnice, but the greater part still remained
with his old life.

The trap was found empty. but, not seriously
disappointed, ho wandered on with with his gun
ready for use.

He found strange game, that day!

He was walking where tho nature of the
ground made his pl‘ngl'es4 almost noiseless when
he emerged from a thicket and met a young lady
so suddenly that only a mutual sudden halt pre—
vented a collision. Then he stood dumb With
surprise.

It was unusual to see a woman at that point,
and still more unusual to see one like her. In
years she seemed less than twoiity, but her form
was one of maturity and perfect proportions.
Her face was regular, bright, intelligent and at-
tractive, and her dress, though simple, was de-
signed with the skill rarely seen with those of
commonplace life.

Roland was dazzled. It looked as if some
fairy of the woods had risen in his path, and he
was not slew to make known ill] admiration
which was sincere, if not respectful.

He lifted his hat with all the grace he could
command.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, laughing
slightly, " and hope you’ll excuse me for getting
in your way.”

“ There is no occasion for apology, sir.”

With these words, politely but formally
sooken, she was moving away, but Roland
stopped her. '

He had recovered from his wonder in a
measure, but more dangerous thoughts were in
his mind. Knowing all of the aristocracy of
the county, he also knew she could not belong to
that select circle, even if her presence in the
woods had not told that she was of a rank in
life where she was unfettered by small formali-
ties.

He was determined to know more about her.

“ Wait!” he direcunl, less civxlly than before.
“ You must have wandered from your course,
so pray allow me to send you home in a car-
riage. I am the owner of this plantation—-
Thornholm, of Thornholm.” ,

This announcement was expected to produce a.
palpitatiou of her supposed plebeian heart, but
it caused no perceptible emotion further than a
slight curling of her lips. \

“ I will not trouble you, sir; I!‘ can care for
myself.” '

Before the words were fully spoken she was
hurrying away, and her manner conveyed such
an undoubted rebuff that he stood almost petri-
fled with astoni hmeiit.

Such a thing ad never occurred to him be—
fore; the proudest daughters of Virginia dared
not frown upon him, while this humble girl had
administered‘a most curt and decided repelleuce.

The red tin e of anger rose to his face, and,
aftera pause, 6 took several steps in furious

ursuit, but as abruptly paused. He remem-

.red that, though on is own plantation, he
was not exempt from the common law.

A smile, which was strangely out of place,
crept to his face.

“So!” he muttered, “my the beggar,

ladrv,
‘scorns me, does she? Goal! t will be rare

pleasure to break her will. I’ll follow and see
where she lives and, with that knowled e

ained, 1’11 humble her‘inside six weeks! Zoun sl
8 e’s as pretty as an'angel; I love her alreadyl
Yes; ad I hate her, too; and the man who
feels hose two assions at once makes a bad
enemy. Come, ometi”

Whistling lightly to the dog, he renewed the

ursuit. Few men in that region could do it

tter. He glided from cover to cover, using
tree and bush to screen his progress, and ex-
hibiting all of the furtive skill gained in his ex-
perience as a " still—hunter.”

Apparently unconscious that she was followed
the irl moved down the river for two hundred

or s, and then turned toward the stream. A
boat lay by the bank. She entered, took up the
oars and rowed away down the stream.

Seeing that she did not intend to cross, Roland
followed along the bank, keenly alert, but him-
self unseen. and, after a tramp of nearly two
miles, hail the satisfaction of seeing her land,
secure the boat, and resume her way on foot.

His pur it grew more ea er, yet careful.

The gir reached a. mud glade and entered
the humble, but neat, house which stood in its
center. Then Roland sat down to rest.

“ What a trump!” he ejaculated. " I’m cov-
ered with perspiration and mud, and all forher!
Ha! my lady, I’ve found your nest, and on
shall yet pa dearly for your sins of the iiy.
This but is; teyona my plantation, and I can’t
drive you out; but my flow shall be struck
through ’our heart. That‘s the figure!”

A crac ling of bushes caused the young plant-
er to turn. He was no longer alone; a stoutly-
built man was adVancing.

He was one no longer young, but. though his
hair and heard were nearly yr ite, his figure was
erect and full of , indications of wall-kept
strength. He had a certain ainwhich Roland
read well. ' v ,

“ An exosailor. and, no doubt, as poor as J ob’s
turkey. He may know who lives in the but.
I’ll as biml” 3, ‘ ‘ .
 stranger“; came on. looking ‘sharply at

i t

   

qr

 

 

 

Roland. He had a frank, open face, naturally
but there was suspicion and distrust expressed
therein at that moment.

“Beg your pardon, old man,” began Thorn-
holm, airily, “ but can you tell me who lives in
yonder cottage?”

“ Why do you want to know?” came the rc-
spoiisc, quickly.

“ I think of purchasing this tract of land, and
want to know if they are good tenants,” Roland
glibly explained.

The elder man stroked his beard vigorously.

“You’ll have to go further for the last infor-
mation," he replied, cui‘ily: “ but if ~vou are ,
anxious to know who lives there, why, I don‘t
hesitate to say I do; and I’m Captain Ned
Norcross, late of the schooner Golden Wing.”

The planter was instantly confused; he had
bliindered lanientably. iy injudicious questions
and arrogance he had introduCcd himself un—-
favorably to Captain Norcross, and if, as seemed
probable, the beauty of the woods was his
daughter, the ex-niariner’s frown was proof
that he would be found on guard;

“ I-—-I didn’t kiiOw—”

His shimmering speech ceased entirely.

“ Didn’t know what?”

“ Who you were.”

“ Have you eVer heard of me?”

“ No, but—J,

“ I understsnd. You took me for a servant,
beggar, or something of the kind, and tried to
gallop on to t‘ie port of information. Eh!”

“ My dear sir, you wrong me!" cried Roland.

“ Then u hy are you so confused?”

Thornholm made a strong ( ll'ort to rally. The
keen, suspicious glances of his Companion,
coupled With what had gone before. made him
angry to an extreme, but he dared not give rein
to his temper. He essuyed an explanation, did
his best to undo the mischief, and tht‘ll beat a

retreat which, he felt sure, was far from being

graceful.

Captain Norcross shook his head as he watched.
the retreat. I -

“ A bad young man, I’d almost swear. I’ve-
seen his kind before, and would not trust him.
Still, he looks like a man of mouey. Possibly he
does want to bu the land—but I doubt it. Her
don’t look trut ful. I’ll watch my cottage
Well, and let him beware how he comes near it,
unless his intentions are as open as his words!”

At the same time Roland was hurrying away,
muttering angrily to himself:

“ By my life! I came out of that badly!” he
confessed. “ The old man of the sea looked as
if he read my very soul, and I can't say I did
much to vindicate myself. Hang my stupidity!
Why didn’t I suspect, at the first, that he was.
the occupant of the cottage?"

Roland was thoroughly stirred up, and when
the hound—the favorite of his pack—happened
to get in the we , he received a kick that made
him elp doleful y.

“ one up bad!” the planter confessed, “ but
there is another day coming. That little beauty
is as sweet as you please, and I’m bound to
know more of her. I ll have her at my feet yet.
Why shouldn’t I have some sport whi e waiting
for the day I’m to marry my stately Berenicel‘"

He knew of no reason, for honor was a thing
unknown to him.

That da. he was a poor hunter. Game came
and went, ut he saw it not. Holdin a straight.
course toward home, he knew 0 nothing,
thought of nothing, but the girl. , .

W 0 was she? It was strange he had never

heard of her in the past, but, luckily, he

thought, there was a future. , _

If he had not been no pro-occupied, he would,
pprhaps, have made a. dismvery by the way.

nknown to him, he passed Walter Vincent as
he went, going so near that only a hundred
yards intervened between them.

What wail the mysterious secretary doing in
theswamp?

\ —__

CHAPTER VIII.
axons or THE IMPENDING sronu.

‘kam NED Noacaoss sat in the door of
his cabin, smoking. His thoughts were far
away, and he did not notice that an one was
near until, hearing a footstep, he look up and”,
saw W alter Vincent by his side.

He sprung up quick] and extended his hand.;

“Welcome, my dear y; welcomel”he cried.
" You are as welcome as a bakeishop to a shi -
wrecked sailor. But I almost thought you a
never come.” '

“Yet,” replied the secretary, smiling. “ I
warned you that I cauldn’t get amond often.”

“Oh! I don’t blame you a bit. I’m an old
sailor, and—” ,

At that moment a girl darted out of the cot»
tage and threw. her arms around V incent’s neck

with a demonstration of unquestionable affec- ., ll  

1

tion.
It was the beauty of Thornholm’s adventure.
. " Oh! I’m so glad to see you i” she cried. '
“Good!” he replied. , “ I was afraid you might.
have forgotten me.”
“ You wicked 'wretch 1” she retorted.
“ Strange how you like the wicked.” .
“ Oh: the Bible sets us an. -example' as to

    

 

 

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prodigals, but we will put you on bread-and-
water, for your feast l”

All'were smiling happily, and the light cou-
versation continued for Several moments.

Standing there together as they did, a strong
resamblance was to be. seen betWeen the secre-
tary and the girl of the cabin. Their hair, eyes
and general features were alike; the same ex-
pression was natural to boil] in time of careless
or happy Occupation: and they only differed
where the square qus and resolute mouth of
Vincent gave place tq womanly gentleness in
the girl.

All this while the trio had been watcher] from
the cabin by a middle-aged woman, and, seeing
Ehis, at last, the visitor went forward to greet

er.

They entered the house. \Vhen seated, the
secretary spoke again:

“ I know you are all anxious to learn how I
am progressin , but I can tell but little, as yet.
1 have searche the old cabinet, but the papers
were not to be found.”

‘ Where can they be?” asked the woman.

“ Probably in dust and ashes, for years."

“ I hope not.”

“Edward Crapo is not the man to preserve
such things.”

“ Then why did be send to Cuba for them?”

“ That is the mystery, Maggie, and. as I told
you era I Went to Thornholm, I don’t under-
stand his motive. By the way, Maggie, I’ve
seen old Phillis.”

“ Ha! What did she say 2”

” That I look more like the Thornhohns than
Roland does!"

The cabin beauty littered a cry.

“ Did she say that, I’Valter .7"

“ She did, Nina.”

“ Then the sky is clearing.”

“ It is only a speck. Of what good to us
would be such a. statement from a humble
slave?”

“ But you questioned her?" -

“ Only slightly; as I’ve said before, it won’t
do to hasten matters.”

“Trust our boy for knowing how to do the
job!” added Captain Norcross, with an emphatic
nod. “They named him Dangerous Dave, the
Never-Beaten Detective, when he worked for
otlhfegs. He won’t fail now he’s working for him-
Se .

“I work for more than that, captain,” re-
turned Vincent with emotion.

“ I know, I know. But go on.”

“You rememler, Maggie,” Vincent pursued,
“ that you told me ot the old family portraits in
the room where the cabinet stands!”

“ Yes, Master Walter.”

1‘ I found all you said with roof that human
feet had p the cor bu rarely in years.
Moreover, found there, among others, the pic-
ture of a lady young and beautiful. Beneath
the picture was a name—not the artist’s, but
berg, d th ?” ed M i

n e name uestion e e rl .

" w sis—Rosalind; ’88 ’ age y
' A cry from Nina, and increased interest from
all showed that the name told asmuch to themas
it had to him on the night when he stood before
the picture. ' '.

Maggie Warner rose abruptly. She had a
rude, rugged race, strongly English in its type,
but thoroughly honest of expression.

Standing before them, she clasped her hands
and tears rolled down her face. ~

“ Oh! Miss Rosalind, Miss Rosalind!” she cried,

' 9‘ Why was I so base as to desert you?"

Captain N orcross had a horror of' tears, and
he‘, ugoout his guild quickly. I u 11%

' P. tto l e re nestet : w er you
didnthe ladyPs husbaan set the example.”

Vincent roao‘with flashing eyes.

“ Why did he do it?” the secretary demanded.

,“ Simply because he hoped she would die in

Cuba. The weight of evidence will be strong
against Edward Crapo at the Judgment Day.
A mere fortunehunter himself, he married Ros-
alind Thornl'irlm for her money, and when she
died he was at sorr '.” *

“He was glad i” . aggie declared.

“ Having seen the man, I can read him well.
Selfish to his heart’s core, he qam only for him—
self, though, thh the’ passage of years, he has
acquired a mask of colt dignity more. becondng
than the bot passions that'o'nce swayed him.”

“ And less fiendish than the honeyed deceit he
used. to win Thoruholm’s daughter,” Norcross
Bu 'plementcd.

~ ‘ True.”

Vincent turned to Maggie and added:

“’I have not a word of censure for (on; for
at your age, and in a strange land, 1; won
have been 11 won r had you remained,~to brave
the dreaded 'faver. Your present cooperation
makes us WY friends, while to our captain of

' ‘ the ocean I ‘havaboundless gratitude.”

‘He advanced and took the old man’s hand,
but the latter dashed the free hand across his
eyes and broke~ filto, a, roar worthy of any dis-
ciple of Neptune.

“AVD.st there, boy; atast with your raise.

never leave a vessels deck

turn a deaf ear to the needy and suffering:
Whatever I’ve done for you, I’ve been well pa“

 

Don’t I love you and Nina like my own chil-
dren? Of course 1 do, and— Avast, there;
avast! Don’t weaken me!”

The worthy captain put out hisyhands so
implormgly that a general laugh followed.

“1 cannot delay here," observed Vincent,
later. “ I must get back to 'l‘hornholni Lodge.”

“ 'What do you think of Veva Crapo?” asked
Nina, with innocent curiosity.

A sudden (hange passed over the visitor’s
face. He was pacing the room, and, as his back
chanced to be to the others, he kept his position
and made a. pretense of looking out of the win-
dow. .

“ She differs greatly from the others. 1 dis-
like,” he confessed, in a low voice, “to bring
sorrow to her.” .

‘ “ It must be so,” Maggie declared, quickly.

“ Right!” added the captain. “ You must go
on and pay no heed to the truck you find in
your path E”

Vincent opened his lips quickly, and then
closed them again. He resented the application
to pretty Veva of the word Norcross had so
hecdlessly used, but he dared not express his
sentiments.

“ Rest assured that the work shall go on,” he
replied, after a pause. “The retribution of
years is on its way, and I must succeed 3”

“Your past ex erienco as a detective will
help you wonderfu ly,” Maggie remarked.

“ o', for no case I ever had before is like
this. I almost forget that I am a detective:
this is a slow, patient Work. more like that of an
Indian than like a detectives”.

“You are fitted for both,” asserted Norcross.

“1‘va good friends, you all over-estimate
mylgbility, but I must succeed, come what
wil

A sudden, peculiar cry sounded from the in-
ner room; a sort of angry snarl which startled
Vincent. . ‘

Maggie quickly entered the other apartment.

“ It’s the poor fellow I fished out of the river,”
the ca tain explained.

“1 ad entirely forgotten him.
to live?”

“His life-bark is riding on the dividing line
betwixt Life and Death, and the rival pilots are
fighting over his possession. I take it the
chances are about even."

“ Have you learned who he is?”
“1N0.”

“ Unfortunate man i” .

“ He raves delirioust in French when the
fever gripes him the worst, but his own name is
one of the thingshe don’t reveal.” '

“ He has no lucid interval?”

“ Not one.” , ,

“ I need not request you to take good care' of
him for I know your nature.”

“ The fellow don’t look like an escaped angel,
by Neptune! but I- allow that we take just as

care of him.”

“ I don’t doubt it. Well I must leave you.
It would never do to let them get the least sus-
picion of me at Thornholm Lodge, and the
sooner I get back the better.”

:20 they misuse you there, Walter?” Nina.
as et .

Is he going

4

Nearly every one ignores me as an ice-
berg does a small fish.” 1‘

“ I suppose Veva Crapo is terribly cold and
proud, isn’t she?” . '

The secretary winced. Again, innocent Nina
had touched a sensitive s t.

“lVell, no ;’for one of or rank in life; she is
far from'being haughty. But this is idle talk; I
must leave you.” ~ .

' Bidding each of the trio good-day, Vincent
left the cotttago and began the return journey.

Roland had reached home ahead of his school:
muster, but, as he had not thought of books. the
absence of the teacher had gone unnoticed.
Thu.) for Vincent was free from suspicion.

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE MAN 0!" ICE ASSEBTS HIMSELF.

THAT same afteran Mrs. Crapo entered the
library and found her husband diligently
perusing the Life of Napoleon. Not by so much
as the raising of an eyebrow did the au st Ed—
ward betray that he noticed her arriva , but his
devot'on to the book interested and worried
Mrs. rapo. _

When he read the Life of Napoleon the scentof
battle was in the air, and, as his wife knew how

frail was the the foundation beneath their feet, .
l ' metaphorically speaking, she had to take. heed

to the fact that unceasing vigilance was the
price of luxury.

She sat down and, after- adeliberate use,
l(grape clused the back and fixed his regs upon

er. "

.“ Is our master away i” he asked. ,,

“Our ma ter?”’Mrs. Crapo repeated. ‘

“ Master Itoland l”

“ Obi Yes; he is absent.”

“Thenlet me’ k of him. I suppose
iulour livesi”

“ How 86?” " , - -

“ When he brings the new mistress here he
will have no need, of the old. , We shall be in-
cumbrauces," - a -_ " _i , ‘ :

     

    

.11" 

A faint color rose to Mrs. Crapo’s cheeks.

“Do you anticipate anything serious!” she
asked.

“ Clouds herald storms; I have suggested what
may be. We need not fear Berenice; she is of
that nature sometimes termed noble, and would
not do a mean thiig, I really licheve. But
{oland is hot—tempered and selfish; he may
drive us away.”

“It would be an atrocious injustice 1" de-
clared Mrs. Crapo, warmly.

Her husband shrugged his shoulders.

In the affairs of life he looked not at justice
and injustice, but at the cards he held in his
hand.

“I’Ve will not mention that: enough that
Roland is ipreme master 'of Thornholm, I
shall never forgive Robert Allan Thoruholm
for making such a will. IVhat did he fear?
Don’t I know the value of money? Iproved
that fact by marrying a rich man’s daughter,
yet it has only given me a home!”

Mr. Crapo rustled the leaves of his favorite
book, smiled coldly and continued:

" Robert Allan hated me cmdially. He never
hesitated to call me a fortunohunteriand it
was only when he saw Roland, who was taking
his first steps, that my worthy father-inrlaw
relented and let me in at his gate.”

“ You‘ve remained some time.”

Edward disregarded his wife’s remark and
calmly ct ntiuued: .

“ When his vull came, it was iron-clad. M
wife had a life-lease here; I had nothing. i:
was to my infant son, who staggered under the
wei ht of three guardians, that all the great
fo one went. Beyond doubt, if Robert Allan
had foreseen his daughter’s death, there wr uld_
have been a clause in the will forbidding my'
presence here at all. Oddly enough, he forgot
that possibility. I have remained simply be~
cause no one cared to oust me, but Roland had,
and has, the estate and the money. Now, we
are in danger of being exiled by this supreme
ruler of Tbornhoiml” ‘

Mrs. Crapo clearly understood, at last, why
her liege lord read Napoleon, but, as it was
upon the deeds of the mighty man of war that

result had been.
. “ that are we to do?” she asked. ,

“’EIw know how I lived when you first knew
me

The lady shuddered.

“ Don’t speak of that—” '

“ I must. Yesterday I borrowed five hun-
dred dollars of Roland. I am the most accom-
plished card-player in Virginia, and I intend to
make that sum five thousand at one sitting, one
of these nights. We need a reserve fund.”

“ What is five thousand dollars? We cannot
live on that. If Roland drives us away—”

Crapo, calmly, “but I see you are worrying.
dmIt. If the time ever comes that
Roland I are pitted against each other, I
shall be master l”
(t m .
“ I!” replied Edward, serenely. ,
Mrs. Crapo was astonished. Breeding to be

in fear of Roland, and her husband ha added
fuel to her fears. The change of base puzzled

er.
“Have you learned something new against
himi'” she inquired.
“ No. Yet, the stron

sity eVer rise, I will bend or break him. Enough
of this! I merely wished to say Iom guingto
Washington for a few days.
wilinsee if my cunning at cards remains with
me.

Mrs. Crapo was not shocke’d. The early life

but themselves—had been, such t
did not shrink from the mention of gambling.
She did, however, fear exposure, and would
have remonstrated,‘but Edward returned to his
book with an air, not new to her, which closed
the conversation summarily.
Glancing from the window, a little later, she

the trees of the grounds, but a bend in the path
laid them from view. a moment later, and she
failed to see Walter Vincent join Miss Crapo;

t ' U
goo!) day that the necrotary rema'inel at
'Ihornhoim saw the bond between him and Veva
gnaw stronger. ‘ ‘ a -

At the first, before he knew flit she was
_Crapo’s daughter, he had tslnan a strong fancy
to her; when he learned her Identity, he had

an impassable barrier ay" between them, but

you had found it hard‘to deny himself the pleasure ._ k‘ 
know that his matrimonial schemes form a crisis I ..

of her compel: . .

She if bright, sparkling and kind-hearted:
they 1. man tastes in common; and each
would havi

 

and mjoyed, the long conversations they had
dayamerdoy. . ' 

r

    

  

 

be relied for inspiration, she wondered what the ‘

“Pardon me for interrupting,” requested“

expelled from the Lodge she had alwa I; lived ‘

Samson of this house I,
is but a weakling in my ands: should the neces- ’

Once there, we 5

of husband and wife-rand they had known each _ 
other much longer than was supplanted by any x - -'
at the lady

saw Veva and, Hector,,the dog, receding among, _

~ ,Tho meeting was «accidental, but neither ' '
seeuied inclined to avoid it, and, after walking;
a short distance, they sat down under a big H

placed a guard upon his feelings, knowing that 

a lonely life had they not 
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Neither had any other congenial associate in  girl’s kindness, stood in silence while she moved

the house.

In thus yielding to the leasure of her com-
any, he forgot that Veva 'new nothing of the
ron barrier. To her, wit her disregard of
that worldly delusion kn wn as “position,”
there was nothing to prevent her from caring
for the secretary as much as she liked.

That she meditated on this fact need not be
Considered here; enough that she was in associa-
tion each day with a man she found a pleasant
companion.

VinCent was thoughtless, but his aim was one
of oiniSsion rather than of commission.
lacked vanity, and, unlike some men, did not
(aspect every young lady to fall ii! love with

mi.
The present interview began as pleasantly as

the others, but it was disagreeably intei'i‘upt- ,

ed.

They were talking with animation when a
little cough sounded, and they looked up to see
John Jay Lennox standing before them.

Mr. Lennox was one of the greatest annoy-
ances of Veva’s life. He was wealthy and of

ood family, and was a neighbor; but his shal-
ow, effeminate, foppish nature made him an
ob ect of secret derhion to nearly ever one.
'eva, in particular, had cause to dislike him
B—aslhas been explained before, he aspired to her
am .

When, on this occasion, he had come upon the
couple and found them conversing with so much
animation, he had stared awhile through his
eyeglass in dumb amazement, and then inter-
jected the little cough. '

, The flash of confusion rose to Veva’s face.

“ Beg pardon,” quoth John Jay, bowing
stifliy; “ did not intend to intrude. I was
looking for Roland.”

"I haven’t seen him since morning,” replied
Veva, rallying. “ Perhaps 'Mr. Vincent can
on some information.” »

“ 6‘ went away With his gun, and, I think,
has not returned,” Vincent explained, quietly.

“ Were be here you would doubtless have been
called to your duties ere now.” remarked Len-
nox. bringing his eyeglass to bear upon the pre-
vious speaker. \

Vincent understood the insinuation.

“ Very likely,” he returned, calmly.

suppose my secretary is at this moment
dusting the library,” added John Jay, who did
not suppose anything of the kind.

“ A very useful than l”

Veva’s eyes were 3 rklin with resentment,
for she, too, perceive the p nnter‘s deliberate
intention to Insult and degrade the secretary,
but she felt that the latter’s coolness was a bet-
ter weapon than angry retort.

, “Perhaps you wil find my brother at the
other end of the grounds,” she remarked, point-

edly. .

“ I’m too Weary to search; I thug I’ll sit
down.”

“ You can hava the whole of the bench, for I
am going to the house. Are you ready, Mr.
Vincent?" »

“ Quite ready.”

Cainin they arose and walked away, leaving
John Jay Lennox in a condition of agitation and
an er.

e wondered that the earth did not open and
swallow such malefactors.

"Scorned!" he uttered, tragically, clutchiug'
at his left breast, where his heart was supposed

' to be located. “ Scorned l—and for a menial!”

Volumes could not have expressed more, un-

less in larger ty pe, as it were, than was the noble

I ‘ Virginian.

Vincent had not forgotten the rumor that
Lennox was a suitor for Veva’s hand, and he
realized that trouble might come from thisxepi-
sode, but, when he Would,have referred text,
the girl kept the conversation persistently in
other channels.

A diversion occurred, hOWever, when they
turned a curve in the path, and saw a woman
sitting on one of the rustic beaches.

The secretary’s first glance showed no more
than that she was one of those wretched, ill-
clad, perhaps half-insane people who are to ho

‘ found wandering about the country everywhere;
but Vova remembered the wuman she had met
in the wood when riding in ith Roland and
Berenice, and felt sure it was the same one.

The woman raised her head, which had rested
upon her hand, and looked at them attentively

’ as they approached.

Her appearance was most miserable. ,

. Her clothes were ragged: her gm hair tan-
tiled and flat «ring, and from honest the hand-
kerchief Which formed the only covering for her
head, great dark eyes gloamed with the bril-
liaucy of mental disorder. j

Despite this, her bag ard face still here some’
si in of st beauty an refinement.

A. eva eft Vincent’s side and moved forward,
putting out one hand reassurineg when she saw
an inc in'ation to flee on the wOman’s part.

“ Don’t’be frightened," she urged, kindly. “ I
am your frie , and no one shal harm you.”

The unkn n brushed her hands across her

She seemed struggling to clear her shad-
owed mind, but it was a work of dimculty.

Vincent, thoroughly in ‘ sympathy with the

4 I, ,

l
l

l
l
1
i
l
|
I
l
!

forward and laid her hand gently upon the
wanderer’s arm. '

CHAPTER X.
VitVA LISTENS TO THE LAW.

THE strange woman watched Veva’s approach
like one bewildered. There was, perhaps, less
of wxldness in her manner than before, but it
was a fictitious state from which she might
rouse and rush away.

“ Will you let me sit beside on?” asked cha,
with the same gentleness. “ ’ve been walking,

 

He ; and. as you look weary, we will rest together.’

“ Walk!” exclaimed the unknowu, sharply.
“ What do you know about walking? Your
dainty feet would never stand the long Journeys
I’ve made. Ah! l’m no child; I’ve seen one-
half of the face of the earth. “'hcn the demon
moves his wand around my head so !”-—she de-
scribed a circle in the air with her hand—“ I
rise and walk, walk, walk! Hal ha! I ride in
no painted carriage, nor behind a puffing engine.
I walk, walk; always walk!”

She spoke with unnatural exultation, but Vin-
cent unconsciously drew iiear, and Veva’s sym-
pathics grew stronger yet.

“ Will you go to the house and get food?” she
asked, persuasivolv.

“ Why should I? thy should one like me
seek a house, when earth furnishes food, drink
and bed? Houses are for the dainty and delicate,
like you.”

Her manner was brusque and unpromising,
but Vincent had grown so interested that he
took a hand in the conversation.

“ Is your home far from here?” he asked.

“ Home!” she echoed, frowning upon him.
“ Don’t talk to me of home! It is a place where
there is happiness only for folks too proud or
indolent to work. As for me, I prefer to walk—
always to walk!”

Both the young ople were filled with one
idea. It wasa terri le life for this mad crea-
ture to wander about the country, and they were
anxious to help her. But the ways and means
were not easy to find.

She Watched them close] , and it was clear
that a rash movement woul put her to flight.

Veva did not despair. Anxious to supply her
with food and clothing, if nothing more, she
continued her persuasive efforts to induce the
unknown to enter the house, but the latter grew
restless and was seized with the old desire to
ualk.

Suddenly she sprung up, and, turning her face
away from the house, bounded away like a deer
in full chase. The trees soon conccaled her from
View.

The encounter had impreSSed Veva and Vin-
cent deeply, and their few words in regard to
her were absent-minded and grave.

They separated at the house, but, as Veva was
'about to enter the library, she heard the sound
of voices which indicated a caller. Retreating,
she learned his identity from a servant.

It was John Jay Lennoxl v .

Miss Crapo’s face flushed. She knew that he
was a suitor for her hand, and that a certain per-
son intendod ‘to dispose of her as unceremoni-
ously as if she had been a mere article of mer-
chiindise.

She wondered, now, if Lennox had been cow‘-
ardly enough to go to her father wrh the story
of’tho recent scene in the grounds.

“ Let him dare,” she thought, indignantly,
“ and we are strangers from this hour. He is
mean enough to drive Mr. ViiiCcnt away from
the Lodge—if Roland would let him go. I’m
not sure he would, for he admitted that Mr.
Vincent is a capable man; but that don’t acquit
Leimox of blame. Anyhow. Mr. Vincent is a
thousand times so erior to him I”

She had turuc and was looking out of the
window, but she saw nothing. An expression
was on her face which was almost one of tender-
ness.

Her own thoughts brought a richer color to

. her fair lace.

Wholly free from worldly pride, she cared
nothing 0
man. She had her own opinion of him, and it
was highly favorable: If she was destitute of
more pride she was without boldness, alsc And
her actions were always creditable, bu she
guarded her thoughts less than her deeds.

She might yet find that, in the secretary’s
case, she had guarded the former too little.

‘ Later, she saw Lennox ride away from the
house, and then a servant came to say that Mr.
Om o wished. to we her in the library.

‘ “ It has come!” Vera thought. -

She answered the summons at once, and no‘h-
ing in her manner indicated that the expected a
storm. Crapo, on-Ahis part, was like an elabo-
rate marble statue as he met her gaze. No
trace of anger marred that placidity which he so
much admired in himself. -

“ You sent for me. sir?" she be. an, quietly.

v Ho waved his hand toward a 0 air.

“Be seated, Miss Crapo,” he directed, in an
even voice. ‘: It is a matter of business, and we
need inot delay. 1 suppOse you are aware that
Mr. unox has called?”

 

   

i’ .. 

..

“‘ 6,1112” ' ‘ ‘
«can an 11?le of the Lennox property, and

l

   

   

r the fact that Vincent was a salaried

 

 

I am surprised at its extent. Besides his planta-
tion, he has in Washington a winter residence
and a whole block of business buildings. Taken
all in all, he is worth a couple millions, and his
is an old and honored name. A lucky fellow is
Lennox!”

Mr. Crapo looked meditatively at his white,
aristocratic hands, and waited for a reply. He
received none, 50 he resumed:

” His business of to—day delighted me. I have
for several years been wondering how i was to
effect a. brilliant marriage for you. An heiress
can easily find a husband, but your only in-
heritance is poverty. Mr. Lennox has solved
the enigma.
for your hand!”

“It’s a pity he should waste his breath,” re-
plied Veva, coldly.

Crapo’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“ What do you mean by that?”

“S’imply that I don’t aspire to be Mrs. Len-
nox.

“ But you would not refuse such an offer?"

“I certainly would not accept.”

“ Why not?”

“ Because that man’s presence is torture to
me. He is shallow, conceited—”

“ Stop!” ordered Crapo, sternly, “ that is
enough. Remember, he is a Virginian!”

“ I don‘t care if he is a king!”

Edward Crapo lookel at his daughter with a
frown, which was intended to crush this iii-
cipient rebellion, but, while respectful of man-
ner, her face bore a very determined expression.

“My dear child,” he pursued, casting aside
his usual coldness, “ I trust that you are not in
easnest. I am reluctant to believe you will
reject the splendid future Leiinox can give you.”

“ His wealth weighs nothing with me. What
answer you gave him I don’t know. Mine is
ready, and it is plain ' No!’ ”

“ erhaps you prefer the secretary?” sneered
Cra po. »

H Sir!”

“ Repress your tragic airs, Miss Crapo. I
have heard of the scene in the grove, when on
deliberately ebufl’ed Lennox and went off with
your brother 5 servant.”

The sneer aroused Veva’s indignation, but she
alas shrewd enough not to involve Vincent fur-

er.

“ Any one’s company is better than Lennox’s.”

“Err reply put Crapo off the new line of at-
C .
“ Your treatment of Lennox was infamous!”
he declared, harshly. “ Understand, it will not
be tolerated. As your father, 1 am the proper
judge of what is best for you. The chance must
not be lost.”

“ Am I to have no voice in the matter?”

“ At your age, the mind is willow/weak and
unreliable. Age clears the vision. Money,
Veva, is the leVer that moves the world, and,
while the golden chariot rolls past, Beauty and
Genius stand on the curb and crane their necks
for a jealous view. Learn this lesson early,
child !”

“I will leave philosophy to you, sir. , As a.
woman, I must decline to rush to misery, plated
with gold though it may be."

“ Willful girl! your folly is disgraceful! It is
my wish—nay, my command—that you marry
John Jay Lennoxl”

Excitement was breaking through his cold
calmness, and her face flushed.

” Father,” she answered, with emotion, “you
cannot say that I have ever disobeyed ou, but,
in this matter, you expect too much. u dispos-
ing of my future, I must be guided by my own
preferences. I cannot marry Mr. Lenmx!”

An outburst on Crapo’s part seemed to he at
hand but, by a great effort, be controlled him-
self.

He realized' that cha was no longer a child
anrl her respectful firmness indicated a. will
which he must consider, if not respect.

“ Great events should he calmly c. .iisirlerad,”
he returned. slowly. “We will drop tLi mat—
ter for the present. Take time to think. Lis-
ten to the dictates of wisdom. And meanwhile,
let love and peace be between us. I do not for—
get that you are my only daughter. That is all,
for now 1"

He had risen and opened the door. and, glad
to escape, she hurried out without a word. ' j

Crap” was alone,

“Miserable child !” he mutteli‘ , “ to what
will her folly bring us? Lennox s a creature of
wax, and, once in my hands, Could be made to
settle a sum on me for life. Veva must—she
shall marrv him. As a last resort I the my
bold, upon Rollin l, but he may break rather than

Abenll. Veva trust marry Lennoxl”

The schemer‘s mind went back over the past.
His precarious existence in early life had give
enough of poverty. Dreadng to he banishe
from Thornholm When Roland married, he
turned to Veva as the life-boat between himself
and poverty. _

“ She shall marry him l" the father reiterated.

—_

CHAPTER Xi.
l vvscnsr nuns BIMStLF.

\ CAPTAIN HEREFORD, havgm
horse, leaped into the saddle a «1

He has made a formal proposal,

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l to him that the animal dashed down the
dyriveway at a gallop.

The negro groom looked after them in wonder.

“ ’Clur’ fer gracious l” he exclaimed, “ I doan’
know what tcr make ob Massa Arthur these
yere days. He used fur ter beds kindest man
in do world, nn’ now he’s sharp an’ te’chy. an’
rides Gladiator like Tom McShunter. I’s afuerd
he ain’t well!”

Hereford’s malady was not of the body, but,
evor since that evening at Thornholm, he had
been in a mental state so miserable that a
measure of it was communicated even to his
sluVes.

As the negro had said, the captain was a man
as kind as he was brave, but, of late, few had
escaped sharp orders at his hands.

The worthy planter was brooding over the
biggest kind of a puzzle with which he had ever
grappled.

It was bad enough to be refused by Beronice,
but that was not the half of the case. She
had confessed that she did not care for Roland
Thornholm, to whom she was betrothed, and
did love Hereford, whom she had refused.

“Even if Berenice had been mercenary, which
she was not, it would have been unexplainable
on any natural grounds, for Herefords wealth
and worldly position were quite equal to his
successful rival’s. ,

If Berenice had not betra ed the fact that
she loved him, the captain ike an henorable
man, would have crushed down his love. As it
was, he could not defy it; human nature was
all against such a course.

Again, while admitt' gthat she loved him,
she had plainly said: “ f I were wholly free
I could never become your wife, Arthur Here-
ford i” As she was the furthest removed from
being fickle and uncertain of any woman he

i had ever kn0wn, this was inexplicable to him.

Once, since the mystery began, he had called
at Royalston Hall to see her. She sent word
that she was ill.‘ ,

He wrote a note, and she returned the brief
reply: “ Do not seek to learn what you must
never know; instead, learn to forget!”

In this case Hereford was a dull scholar; he
had not learned to forget, or made any step to-
ward it.

It. was the day after Veva’s ordeal that he
started on the gallop before referred to. He
had not gone far before reason returned. He
moderated his speed and role at a respectable
pace along the road which extended through the
Eocfid between his own residence and Royalston

8 .

Unconsciously. he had taken that route. As
he finally became aware of his course he was
about to turn when he saw another horseman
in advance. ,

» “Thornholm’ssecretary,” he murmured. “ I’ll
join him. He will probably proceed to tell me
all about the coming wedding, and that will be
joyful news!" ,

miling in bitter sarcasm, he again quickened
Gladiator’s pace and joined Vincent.

“ We ride the same road,” he observed; “ sup-
pose we go together.”

“ Willingly,” the other man responded. “ I’ve
had a solitary journey to Glenville, and thus far
home, and company will he very welcome.” '

“ Is your home in Glenvillei”

“ No; down the river.”

“ One of my negroes asked, the other day if
you were not related to the Thornholms. e
was but little younger than the present owner’s
grandfather, Robert Allan Thornholm; and he
declares that you resemble him.”

Vincent laughed. ‘

O“ng don’t suppose I’m a long-lost son, do
3' ll ‘ ‘ ~

“ ,I fear not, though bag! it would have
pleased Robert Allan mm olrn if you I!“
been 'his son. The coming into the family of
Edward Crapo was a bitter blow to the old gen-
tleman.” r '

“ Yet he made Edward’ son his heir.”

“ The son was takinf hi first steps then. Per-
haps-perhaps the wi! would have been differ-
ent if old Mr. Thornholm could have looked into
the future." - '

“ Roland’s mother died in Cuba?"

“ Yes; of yellow fever.” ,

“ Roland and 0330 were looky to escape.”

Hereford hesita for a minute. ,

“ My father once told me ht had a suspicion

- that Cmpo deserted his wife as soon as she was

taken ill, but there 18 no proof of the fact."
" Had Roland changed during their absence?"
“ 1‘ don’t know. ‘I was only a child then. But
lkuow what he has been as a boy and I man.”

a. Hereford checked himself suddenly. and a.

aggpuy‘chgnged the subject. He was too hon-
o
rival, whateyer he might have done if there had
been no can anon between them.
: ftera li strivial'conversation theye
f the wood and
cm: the Royalston nation in halves.
Vincent was surprised to see his compa
become sudde silent and morass, but as he
noticed Herefo s peculiar lenses to the left,
the suspicgggihe had go at Roland's party
. v ’

cure for 

also

0 to'prejudice others against his successful,

dang the road wh ch :

 

“If so, I’ll help him all I can!” thought the
detective.

At that moment they paSSed several interven-
ing trees and saw Beronice and Veva together in
the grounds. This did not surprise him, for he
knew Crapo had brought Veva over in a car-
ringc, but as he again glanced at his fellow-rider,
the lutter’s expression so impressed him that he
determined to undertake the bold artifice.

“Shall to call, captain?” he asked, quietly,
ignoring the fact that he was, himself, only a
salaried man.

Hereford started, looked sharply at the
speaker, and then replied:

“ Vincent, I’ll trust you. I think I’m safe.”

“ Decidedly, you are.”

“ Then I’ll stop on one condition—that you
will try to draw Miss Crapo away, so I can see
her friend privately.”

“ Done, captain !"

They entered the grounds.

Hereford looked in vain for confusion or cold-
ness in the reception given him by Berenice:
she was calm and smiling, and he was staggered
anew.

The secretary did not forget his promise, and
after a little idle conversation, he boldly su2—‘
grated to Veva that she show him through the
grounds. If it was presumption in one of his
station, Veva gave no evidence that she so re-
garded it. She quickly rose to comply with the

nest.

t that moment she forgot her suspicion that
Hereford cared for Miss Royalston, nor did she
notice the im lorin glance with which the lat-
ter panmmimically esought her to remain.

Hereford and Berenice were left alone.

“Mia Royalston,” said he, humbly, "I fear
you will never fo?ive me for venturing here.”

She rallied quic ly.

“ There is nothing to for ve, captain. We
have been friends always; w y not now?”

” I must ask your pardon for the events since
-—since— But have been scarcely sane.
Barenioe, you leave me all in the dark; you
doom me to—” r

“ Why will you refer to that?” she interrupt-
ed, with agitation.

“ How can I do otherwise?”

“ You add to the trouble. I have said—”

She paused, and he finished the sentence:

“ That, though Thornholm’s betrothed, you
love me .' You refer vaguely to an insur-
mountable barrier between you and me, and
will not say what it is. Berenice, deeply as I
care for you, if you will say what that obstacle
i I will, if you then command it, never speak
0? love to you again!” ‘

She had listened patiently, though her face
was pale. ‘

“ You ask what is impossible,” she replied,
shivering."

“ Pardon me, but has any one dared circulate
rumors derogatory to my character?”

“ No, no; every one speaks well of you.”

“ Then, what is the secret?”

“Whatever it is, it dies with me.
sworn never to tell.”

“ From whom did you learn it?”

“ That I cannot tell. You have my best
wishes. Ask no more, and spare me further
pain.”

She put her hand to her forehead with a ges-
ture of such weariness and suffering that his
conscience 9 note him heavxly. His mood
changed abru tly. ‘

“ F0 ive ms, Berenice; forgive me. Your
avishe’s be respected, but—the knife strikes

eepl .

“ I am very sorry.”

“ I could ear it if—- But never mind l”

“ 1 hope have not wounded you unnecessari-
ly,” she said. humbly.

“You? No; I can swear you never did that
to any one." . >

“ Don’t!” she almost whispered.

“ Have I sinned again?” ‘ ‘

“ No. But don’ts k well of me!”

“ At least, I can inkwell of you.”

He leaned minus tree, his own face pale;
and Walter Vincent, looking across the lawn,
thought that the couple Would make a propriate‘
figures for a group of statues W138”! collect-
ed'rmuiry' the rotary ' v

urn ng away. sec looked a ova.
Her checks were flushed, and the light ofgha pt
noss was in her eyes. It was aldangerous t
for him, with their lives shaped as they were,

I have

i but he looked—looked, and read his own heart!

\“ Great heavens!” he thought, ‘this must go
no further! I’ll avoid her; the must never sur-
mise what was in my heart!”

He was confused, and m ht have made a had
matter worse, but, at t at moment, Veva
chanced to glance toward the mansion, and saw
Edward Crapo mming down an adjacent h.

There was danger. After the luspm on al—
ready partially ingrafted in his mind, he could
not a! to befreshly excited if hesaw herwith
the secretary. ' '

Es  r“ m: “1°” “m or

y a as or me, an must
hasten sway. Will on remain and gather a
few more flowers, bring all to Thornholmi
Please pluck them,ri' t here!" ‘

Grape  1m

    
 
 

    

  

a u.

 

   
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
   
    
   
     
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
    
   
     
 

She skillfully conducted Vincent to where the
shrubbery would conceal him, and the deed was
done.
Then she hastened d0wn the diaglonal path.
Crupo had seen Berenice and ereford, and
with his suspicious nature, he wondered if Ro-
land’s promised wife was in search of new con-
quests, but they had seen him in time to avert
danger.
cha fluttered into the group before Crapo
could begin conversation, and in her eii'usive
farewell w ith Berenice, all others were cromled
out of sight and hearing, as it were.
Then she deftly captured her father, took him
to the carriage, and they departed without the,
elder mun, shrewd as he was, having suspected
that mischief was brewing around him.
Again Hereford and Bercnice were alone, but
her expression touched him so much that he said
not a word to Worry her anew. H 
Vincent soon joined them, and the young men ‘
rode a ay. Hereford left the mystery deeper
than e er.

CHAPTER XII.
THE HUMAN WOLVES or THE TRAIL.

, THE forenoon sun was shinin brightly, and
climbing high up in the sk . incent was in
the library, waiting for R0 and to up and
grapple with his lessons, but the mature pupil
was long in coming. ,

The sun was almost at the zenith when he \
slouched into the library, his mouth expanded in
a yawn.

“ Howd’y !” he saluted, dropping into a chair,
and rubbing a pair of inflamed eyes.

“ Good-morning, Mr. Thornholm,” the scare-
tarynquietly answered. “ You are somewhat '

 

 

“Played cards, last night, until the roosters
were crowing for morning!" _
“ I suppose you are all ready for work i” ’ ' 
“ Work! What sort?” , ' ,
“ On your books.”
“ Hang the books! Do you suppose I am 7
goin to wear my brains all out on them ?” iv -,
“ ut we hardly ever get at them, at all, and '
then only for short sessions." ,,
“ That’s enough.” ”
“But you can’t make good progress in that‘
way.” -
“ There is time enough in the future." l
Vincent clearly saw that, hating books and l _
study as only one of his nature can, he wished to
defer action from day to day. This did of:
trouble the schoolmaster. He ,did not re
whether Roland learned anything or not. He v
had not come there to teach him, if Thornholm
had but known it, but as an excuse to get into
the house. and his profbssional character was, ,
not at stake. ' * v‘ ‘
Now, Vincent had cleared himself by making
a formal, if weak, protest, and was willing to
let the matter rest. _ '
Roland hesitated, and then added more ener‘.
geticelly : , \-
“ Vincent, you are a pretty good sort of a fol-3‘ ‘
10w, I reckon, but your ideas on education are a
little 011'. I recently heard Major Bob Living-v “
stone, my neighbor, say that pupils ought to go
slowly. Crowd them; rush them on with learn—
ing; and you raise the merry Old Nick. ’ Modes"
ation should govern education.” ‘- “ ‘
“IBeyond doubt, that is so,” was the grave.
rep y. . - a
“ Now, you talk sensibly,” declared Banach; z
with an air of relief. '  "
" In any case, you are to be judge in your.
own case.” . v v‘ .
“ Certainly; of course! You have sen“.
Vincent. No hooks for me, to-day. I’ll hav
dinner, and then take my hounds and go to the
swamp for a hunt. Do you ever use a gun
Vincent?” .  I
“ Occasionally.”
“ Why not join me, today!”
“ Perhapsl will.”
“ Do it; come along. You’re welcome!“
Roland a he with an air of ‘ _
He felt uni ty because he was not pressth
studies, and trying to fit himself for Bereni
com av, and though, in point of fact, he would
not v0 allowed the secretary to dictate whim 
in, the least. he felt grateful to that gentlsmi
because he had agreed that too much sandy 

in‘ rious. \ ._
shit that he ought to make mum; 
the invitation tojoin in the hunt. - l . _» _'» 7
Vincent accepted. He had nothim else tode ,,
and was enough of a sportsman tokme that qt, .,
good deal of pleasure was to be found in a ' i
when all Went well. . , ‘
~Dinner was duly eaten. and then th ' ‘ pry
pared for departure. anwnt’ was
really excellent gun and,
summoned his dogs, thdy

\l

  
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
 
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
     
 

  

  
    
   
   
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
 
        
       

 

'  thtlnfiho foltfsuro.

   
    

  
 
  

  
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
      
    
   
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
    
   
 
    
    
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
     
   
 
  
 
 
  
   
  

r f‘v'. --_ I

._.A_.._"~...... WW.» 7.. no
{f w -- -,.

“52””: _ .

A, ~J-a ¢:.«-v‘-:
H, K .. .

.- shoulder.”

’ becoming too confidential by far.

"' I moves in.

,is his daughter, Nina. Zounds! ain’t she pretty,
I thou hi” '

 his caution.

, swered.

"want on, but he took care to k conversation
away from the former subject y talking rap-
'\ I

“idly I
incent understood the strata em.

10

 

Dangerous Dave.

 

l
Nearly every one but Roland was afraid of
them; he gave them all of that rough affection
common to men of his mental caliber.

\‘l'ouderfnl tales he told of their exploits, and l
unholy doubted that they could pull down any 1
kind of game when once their strong jaws were 
upon it.

The hunters proceeded toward the swamp to
the sultheast. Vincent would have preferred 3
any other course, for in that direction lay tho l
Norcross cottage, but it was far enough away i
so that the chances of their going near it Were 1
very slight.

He did not object to the field of action. l

\Vhen they entered the swamp Roland’s own ‘
mind became busy, and his thoughts iinally
found vent in words.

“Have .you made many new acquaintances
around here, Vincent?” he asked.

“ Almost none, Mr. Thornholm.”

“ Any down the river?"

The detective flashed a quick look at his com-
panion, but Roland was plodding along with his
gaze flired upon the ground.

“ No,” was the quiet response.

“ 1 have I”

“ Indeed l"

“ Yes; a perfect beauty 2”

Somethin impelled Roland to be confidential:
the desire o a low-minded man to boast of past
or projected conquests. Usually, this Would
not have been enough to tempt h m, for he was
naturally cunningly secretive; but he was in n.
mood of weakness. He wanted to boost to this
hired man of his.

If he had looked at the hired man he might
have, hesitated before going on, for Vincent’s
face had darkened. The reply, however, was
quiet.

“ Not an uncommon thing in these parts.”

“ If you mean that beautiful women are not
uncommon I agree with you, but women like
this particular one are deuced uncommon.
She’s a stunnerl"

“I didn’t “know that anyone. lived in the
swamp.”

“ Nobody does, unless it is Drake Hodge and
Black Tuck, the outlaws; they live where they
can get a bone to pick. My beauty lives be.
yond the swamp, by the river, in a cottage."

Vincent was perfectly sure that the cottage
mentioned was Captain Norcross‘s, and that
the “ beauty ” was Nina.

He longed to lay violent hands upon his pres-
ent companion, but wisely hid his indignation.

" ” I happened on her in the swamp over South
there,” the unconscious planter went on, “ and
admit I was dazzled. Women who are prett
are thick hereabouts, but not one like her.
accosted her, and—well, to be frank, got beau-
tifully snubbed. All right; the more spirit, the
merrier.

“Having got the dead shake, I secretly fol-
lowed her home.

“ I wanted to know who she was, so, seeing a
rough-lookin old fellow hard by, I tried to
pump him. fell all over myself. The rough
old fellow was her father, and I got another cold

Roland paused, meditated upon his double
rebuff, and added in an ugly voice:

“ May the fiend fly away with me if I don’t
fix them at, though i"

“ You ntend to get square?” questioned Vin-
cent. quietly.

“ Rest assured that I do. I’ve learned since
who they are. The rough old fellow is Ned
Norcross, a retired sea-captain, and the beauty

- “ ave you made their acquaintance yeti”

“ Hardly.”

“ Do you intend to?”

“ I intend to humble that proud beauty, 1) .
Jove! she began by scorning me; she abs 1
end b lovin me!”

“ ow wil you accomplish this change?”

“ That’s what I’m going to decide.”

“ Are you going to the cottagfi again?”

It suddenly occurred to R0 ad that he was
He sent a

nick, suspicious glance toward Vincent’s face.
t did Rim no good. The first shock of alarm
and in ignatlon having passed away from his
companion, the latter had summoned all of the
rose ution by which he had gained success in the

da 5 past as “ Dangerous Dave,” detective.
is face told no tales, but Roland did not lose

“No;‘ I shall not go to the cottage,” henn-

“ Then how will you make her acquaint-
ance?” .

“ By goin into the same circle of society she
a! wasn’t that a fox?”

Roland threw n his gun and made apro—
tanse of lookin s r ly into the brush. He
soon announc that e was in error, and they

about something else.
He knew
that the planter had not seen a ox, or thought
that he did. The hounds were calm; Roland’s

 

brief excitement had been fictitious. ‘

 'Hohad merely grown vary. and drdpped the .35

subject with an artifice not wholly without
shrewdness. ,

Real game was soon encountered, and Roland
showed himself a good shot; but Vincent did
not at first cover himself with glory. Much to
his compamon’s disgust he missed several times.

There was good reason for this. Thesecro-
tary was so worried and angry over Roland‘s
bald statement of his intention to lnolust Nina,
that he was to be excused for poor marksman-
slii .

l e felt more like chastising the fellow than
annoying foxes and other game.

Later he recovered his calmness, and won
praise from the planter by shots not inferior to
the latter’s.

While engaged in still-hunting, anon, Vin-
cent found himself separated from his com-
panion, and it was then that he discovered
strange game.

A woman, ragged and wretched of appear-
ance, suddenly appeared a few rods away, hur-
rying toward the east, and he recognized her at
once. She was the same wanderer he and Veva

. had seen at Thornholm.

He stopped, uncertain as to what he ought to
do, and then saw two men fol10wing the mad-
woman.

They were Drake Hod e and Black Tuck, the
outlaws, and each Carrie a gun.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
rm: MAD-VVOMAN nuns A DEFENDER.

VINCENT immediately saw that mischief was
afoot. Such was always the case when the
Swamp refugees were on the move. No thought
ever entered their minds except those of vio-
lcnce and evil-doing.

Their presence near the unfortunate mad-
woman was not one of chance. They were fol-
lo ing her deliberately, and their brutal faces
w , e aglow with the spirit of depravity.

As the woman was neither young nor pretty,
and had not a thing of financial value, there
could be but one object in their pursuit—that
spirit of barbarous cruelty which ruled them
made it seem rare sport to persecute tbeufllicted
creature. Perhaps they would end the Affair by
murdering her, and leaving her in the swamp.

The lielectivo’s blood boiled with indignation,
metaphorically speaking, and he determined to
have a hand in the affair.

The woman was deserving of the deepest pity,
terribly afflicted as she was, and it mattered not
if she was dressed in miserable rags. Hehad
twice met Drake Hodge and Black Tuck, and
was not sorry to have a chance to give them a
fresh lesson. \

By the time he had comprehended the situa-
tion fully they had passed him, but he hastened
in lpursuit.

6 had been getting into an unusually bad
part of the swamp, where the way was wet and
disagreeable, but, as he closed up the gap on the
outlaws, he saw the mad-woman ascending the
side of a knoll beyond.

Hodge and Tuck stopped short. They looked
first at the fastdisa pouring woman, and then
at the ground imm lately in front of them.

Vincent easily saw why they had stopped—v
there was treacherous footingn cad. _

Around the base of the knoll extended a rim
of mere mud and water. It was not an inviting-
looking place. Several half-decayed lggs lay in
the mass which would have furnish secure
footing had it not been what be suspected. a
mere jelly as to the immediate foundation.

' Off at one side was a bed of sand which looked
perfectly firm and hard, but Hodge flung astone
upon it, and the stone sunk quickly.

It was a quicksand.

He was about to accost the outlaws at once
when the made aforward movement, stepping
upon the ogs before mentioned, and using great
care.

There was good reason why they should be
careful; the logs slowly sunk in the mud under
their weight, and it was only by quitting each
hurriedly for the next that, they escaped the
grasp of the quivering mud.

Clinging to the upri ht trees that rose from
the place, they hasten on.

It was too late to stop them than, and, as the
dangerous place was not over twenty yards
wide, the detective determined to follow. They
crossed and began to ascend the knoll;_he b gun
the passage. , It was then that he realized ully
what the place was, and he was read to be-
lieve that a man caught in the grasp of he mud
would never get out alivo. _

One rash or luckless step would a/ccompllsh
this result, and he was duly careful.

By the time he was over, all of his predeces.
sors had disap and he. made haste to
ascend the knol . When he reached the top he
found it was small, containing onl about one
acre. It was heavily, but not the I , wooded
with pines, all of which were of noble d mansions.
They were both tall and massive, and a finer.
growth he had never seen.

  

   

 

boss, until one could wslk about in

  
  

The and was carpeted with needles fallen
fron‘t
only

 

   

At the top he found Hodge and Tuck.

They Were creeping tOWnrd a shanty just be-
yond, and he easily understood that they sup—
posed the mad-woman to be there.

He hastened to close up the gap, but, before
he had done this. they entered the shanty. He,
too, was soon at the door. As he reached it a
wild \‘oim‘ sounded, and he saw the woman
confronting the outlaws.

“ Hal what do you here, caitifl's?” she do-
manded, in exaggerated language.

Drake Hodge laughed hoarscly.

“ We’ve come ter see you, darlin’l” he re-
sponded.

“ 1 know you not. Get you gone!”

“ Not much! “'e’Ve conic tcr git you!"

“ I tell you, begone!”

“ Jest like a gal, by mighty!" asserted Hodge
rubbing his hands together. “ They are coy an;
coquettish, an’ hate ter come down ter business.
Say, old lady, don’t yer ketcb on? We’re in lovo
with yer, an’ Lev come a-wooin’!"

The remarkable humor of his white ally so of.
fecled Black Tuck that he clasped his arms over
his stomach and nearly doubled up in a paroxysm
of mirth.

“ Gut thee hence, or I’ll report you to the
king!” declared the mad-woman.

“ Whar is he?"

“ All around. In the air: in the waters; in
the sky; in the earth.”

“ Say, he’s a rooster, ain’t he? Never heard
of a man who could kchr so much space
afore. But what has that ter do with our love
fur you?”

The negro laughed until tears ran down his.

coarse, scarred face. .

“ Ho! hol” he managed to utter; “ if you ain‘t
de debbil’s own, Hodgeyl Keep it up!”

The unfortunate woman was growing greatly
excited. Despite her darkened mind she realizml
that the men were scoundrels, and was uneasy
in their presence.

“ How dare you come here?” she cried.

“ Jos’ ’cause we’re in love with yer, I say.”

“ Away! away! Quit my sight! Brutes, I
bid you gill”

odge's eyes twinkled evilly.

“ Sa , Tuck, what ’II we do with her?"

“ Take her to de mud au’ dump her in,” sug-
gested the negro.

“ Ho! an’ see how quick she’ll sink out o’
sight? Good! We’ll do it!”

“ Ho! ho!” roared Tuck.

“ At her, my jewel 1”

Both men moved forward. They‘did notreach ‘

their victim. Not wishing to do manslaughter,
and well aware that, if the two outlaws saw fit
to stand boldly before him, and they might, in
the swamp, if they had not done so on previous
occaswns: Vincent had found outside a strong,
resinous, water-soaked ine limb which was ad-
mirably suited for a clu . ,

As such it was now used.

Before Hodge and Tuck could seize the woman
the club began to play upon their heads. Blow
after blow Vincent gave unsparingly. They
turned in alarm and confusion, but too late to
save themselves.

In a very short time both were stretched sense-
less on the ground.

The mad-woman had been looking on in
rapt silence, but she now put out her hands im-
ploringly. I

" Kacey;l back! keep back! Give me time to
think i” e gasped, tremulously.

“ Have no fear; you are now safe!” Vincent
kindly answered.

" But I behold a sea of blood l”

“ Be calm! The danger is an oven”

“ Strange shapes go before in e es.”

“ Come away w th me, an will protect

'ou.” .

u Wm: wait!” .

She flung the tangled hair back from her eyes,
and then covered her face with her hands, but
her manner was quieter than was to be ex-

pectod.
Vincent did not hurry her, but improved the
pause to look about him.

The shanty was a most miserable affair. The,  ' '

walls were clumsy posts and poles, and the~r00f
partly of boards and partly of other material;

at the hand of time was over all. Thepostfl
had decayed until the Whole shanty loaned to
one side, and a single person might haVOT’Wbed
it over; some of the boards of the roof had rotted
in twa'and fallen in' and a more wretched hovel
it would have been hard to find. I

There was no flooring whatever. but a pile of
pine boughs in one corner indicated that the
mad-woman had been making it be? home and
her sleeping-place. ,

Vincent sighed. Her condition appealed in
every wayto him, and he then and there re-
solved to take her out of i the sWamp and. in
some way, see her comfortably provided for

else where.

She did not stir, and, afraid that Hodge and
Tuck would recover conscxousness, Vincent ad-
vanced and touched her arm-gently.

u Camel” he said gently. ‘ Let us go 1”

She uncovered her face and looked up. Her
e as were mild and subdued, if not filled with
the light of reason. ,
“ I am ready,” she returned, quieilly. ,,

/

v

. .HMKMa- ~ . .
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~ i'iirther slilt},

‘ ‘ lived in the mountains of Tennemee‘land when

' He was honest, sympathetic, and rich. Plainl ,

I  pair came upon Roland. He was seated

A

Dangerous Dave.

11

 

 

He took her hand and they started, but. she
stopped short as sne saw Hodge and Tuck.

look appearing on lieinace.

The detective saw that. she had entirely for-
gotten the late exciting scene.

“ Never mind,” he answered.
on!”

He led her from the hut, and down the knoll.
(ihe oheyt-d him with the docility of a child, but
without achild’s intelligence. If she was suh- i
one»! it was simply because she ret'ognizud in
T im, by intuition, one whom she could trust,
and one mind, only, ruled both.

Another matter began to trouble him. How
2': re they to get over the bed of mire at the foot
of the hill! It was dangerous enough for him,
1111-] what of her?

He felt his helplessness, but saw only one way.

He paused at the point of danger.

“ Can you cross?” be asked.

She gave a start.

“ Of course!” she answered, with more spirit.
“ Why not? I’ve been over many a time be.
fore.”

“ Let us go

 

CHAPTER XIV.

THE REFUGEE SEEKS REVENGE.

THERE was nothing in her confidence to
awaken a like feeling in Vincent’s mind.

“ But it is dangerous,” be urged.

The innd~woman laughed shortly, and sud-
denly leaving his side, began the passage. He .
was not quick enough to sto her, and, on the
whole, was not sorry that she ad gcne. In any
case he could not have given her assistance; that 1
Was out of the question.

He watched her eagerly, only to learn that she
was capable of eclipsing him utterly. Much
lighter as to weight, she was also light—footed
and sure, and though the logs sunk and quivered
under her, she went over in safety.

The secretary lost no time in following.

Brave as he was he did not like the task, but
the trip was made without mishap.

The mad-Woman was awaiting him on the

 

"Now let us get away at once,” he urged, re-
membering that odge and Tuck had guns, and
looking hack as he spoke.

“ Where?”

“Out of the swamp.”

“ isn’t this my home?”

“Surely, you would not Object to a better
one.

“ Perhaps not,” she answered, doubtfully. '

“ What is yourmame?”

' She shook or head slowly.

“ I don’t know)!

“ What town did you live in l”

“ I can’t tell."

(8123 put her hand to her head and slowly

“ I don't think I have been‘just right here! I
am not right now, but 1 am better than I was—
except when I get excited."

Vincent was delighted to hear such rational
answers. ‘

j‘ Go with me, and I will take you where you
Full ltliéa’lpndly used, and have a chance to get

ri . '

Slug looked at him ‘searcliingly. ,

“I feel sure I can trustyou. You haven good
face—a good face. I know when I mane, If
I had had such when I was young, I might not
now have been as I am. But it was never‘so. I

my parents died and left me a nierec ild, I used
to beg from door to door. How I got wrong
here "Ashe touched her forehead—“ I don t
know.” ‘ '

“ 5:1: was, your father’s name?"

“I c ’t think; don’t ask me to try. He was
a mountain hunter, and was born in F nee, in
the town of—of—”

She hesitated, and then sighed deeply.

“ It’s all. gone,” she added.

Disappom ment and hope were alike felt by
the secretar . She was so much better than
when he ant V a ‘saw her at Thornholui that
there was a razor hope of ultimate recovery.
It; occurred to 1m as peculiar that the sick man
at Captain Norcross’s cottage was of the same
nationality as she claimed to be—F'reneh. .

Of course, he decided, in could he only a coin-
voidence. ‘

They started. away. She went wherever he
said and was as dOCile as ever, but there was a
total absence of coherency and judgment in all
she said and did. . .

Vincent was confronted With a problem of no
small importance. lie had taken charge of her,
but what was he to do with her? He knew he
could eXpect ‘ neither sympathy nor aid from
Boland or Cr ), own if he had felt like appeal-
ing to them. aptain Ned Norcross had a big
apd kind heart, but was hardly the man for the
p ace. . ,

The secretary thoughtof‘ Captain Hereford,

the was just the man for t situation, if 0
would take champand to him, incent resolved

on a log, with his hounds lying at his feet, rest. l

‘ iiig after the hard tramp.
“ Who are thesa men?” she asked, a troubled ’

, in the swamp.”

:land bv a treacherous bog. There is a high

 

 

to . .
i531: many minutes had elapsed when the

He looked in am z -ment at first, and then I
broke into a loud laugh. i
“ Upon my word, Vincent,” he cried, “ you’ve i
got. bigger game than I can boast of.” i
"This Is' an unfortunate woman I have found

“ She wears a novel style of dress,” returned
the planter, with an attempt at facetiousness.

“ It is the apparel of adversity.” l

“ Did you catch her in a trap?"

“ Sue was on a sort of island over yonder—at f
least, it was a place cut off from the rest of the

knoll—”

“I know the place. The Black Acre, it is
called. That hog is a death-trap. The man ;
who gets in its grasp is bound to sink to his
doom. So of the sand, which you probably no-
ticed. The Black Acre has had its sight at run-
away slaves, and both negroes and white men ,
have lost their lives in the man-hunts for them. ‘
Did vou cross?”

(6 Yes."

“ You were reckless. But did you seen but
on the top of the knoll?”

H Yes.” .

“ It was built h two runaway slaves, about
the time I was b0 u. Few persons have seen it,
but I‘m one of them. The boards which carer
the old wreck were stolen from plantations by
the runaways I mentioned, board by board.
Let me advise you to keep away from the Black
Acre. You couldn‘t get many of the people who
live near here to risk the passage of the hog; it
is a death ~trap, paved with (lead men’s bones.”

Roland suddenly resumed his old mannerrand
added: '

“ But you got well repaid, this time. I like
your prize! She‘s as sleek as my dogs 1”

“ She is deranged,” returned Vincent, in an-
noyance, lowering his voice.

“ Let’s have some fun with her!”

6‘ Sir?”

“ Fire your gun, and see her scmt!”

‘ “ No; on the contrary, I propose to take her
where she can he cared i‘ properly.”

“ You must like scare-er ws.”

Roland’s coarseness and inhumanity annoyed
the secretary greatly, but he was prudent enough
to keep control of his temper.

“ I see in her an un ortunate woman; no
more.”

“ I see a bundle of rags. Say, old woman,
what artistic costumer of Paris concocted that
rig of yours?”

The wanderer had been looking at Roland
fixedly. She now shivered, and turned to Vin-
cent. ‘

“ Send him away!” she implored. “I don‘t
like him 1”

Roland laughed loudly.

“ Ain’t she a trump card? I’d like to start
her on a run and set the dogs after her!”

“ I am sure you would not do that, Mr. Thom-
holm. Remember how wretched she is,‘ and
pity her as you would wish for it under like
conditions. She should he cares ll): suitably.
and, to that end, I pro to take her to some
place where it can he one.”

“ As you wish. I make no claim to her. It’s
lucky you, not I, found her; I’d have giVen the
dogs some fun."

The planter’s mind ran all \in one channel.
Pity was an emotion he never had, and his brute
impulses always prevailed. Vincent regretted
that circumstances obliged him to bear the fel-
lovv Without offering any reproot’.

The conversation was abruptly interrupted.

Several times the detective had glanced back
to see if there was any sign‘of Hodge and Tuck.
He had seen nothing, but the appearance of
security was deceptive. The outlaws were at
hand, and the fact was soon .e‘stablished em-

phTattlically.d f
ey ha ained sight 0 the u and
burning with atrsd for the man wima‘ii three.

times humiliated them, Drake Hodge leveled his
gun, took careful aim and fired.

As the charge was heavy shot it was a wonder
that he missed, but miss he did.

_ The leaden shower whistlcd past unpleasantly.
near, but without taking (fleet.

The hounds found their voices at once. The
outlawsntrue to their cowardly instincts, were
already in retreat, and the dogs recounized law-
ful prey in them. So did Roland. Enraged at'
having been tired upon, he threw up his own
gun and fired in return. A long bound on

odge’s part indicated that some of the shots»
had taken effect.

“ After them, dogs: after them!” the planter
cried; and he and the bounds rushed away in

pngsu‘it.
incebt turned to look for the mad-woman.
She had disappeared.

' ga‘ze had been averted from her for only a
few moments, but that had been sufficient time
for her to get out of sight. No doubt, starth
by the sound of the gun, she had at once fled

recipitately, and the mossy carpet on the
0w land had dead nod all her movements

Vincent' gave érompt pursuit. "The exact
course of her dig twas uncertain, but be ex-
pected ’to gain sight of her by quick Ha

 
  

 

,, i

' tend to get a whack at those outlaws again.
* for your mad woman, she is a mile a“ ay before

   

was disappointed.._ After running a few rods he
looked about eagerly, but she was not visible.
The heavy timber was all against him.

Then fullOWPd a vain search, which ended by
his going hack to meet Roland. The latter was
returning in ill humor.

“ They got away 1” he growled.

“ So has the mad-woman. Will you oblige
me by putting the bounds on her trail, keeping
them close to us so they can do her no (lama e!”

“ No, i won’t !” was the surly response. “ ’ve
had enough of two-legged game, and don’t in-
tend to fool around any more—though I do in-
As
now. Let her alone! Let us go for decent
game!” ' ‘

Roland’s coarseness was all to the front. The
thin varnish of civility he used when in society
always tell away in the woods, and he stood
forth in his proper colors. His ignorance, bru-
tality and lawlessness asserted their rights.

Surly as he now was, none of it was leveled
directly against Vincent. On the contrary, the
latter was treated as an equal, rather than a
subordinate, and for this the planter deserved
one good mark.

Vincvnt saw that he could not prudently urge
the point, and be reluctantly decided that the
mad-woman must be abandoned to her fate, for
the time, at least.

CHAPTER XV.
VINCENT HEARS WONDERFUL NEWS.

IN the Week that follow ed there were no start--
ling eVen ts. ' .

Vincent searched lfor the mad-woman, but
failed to find her. Reluctantly abandoning the
attempt, he gave his attention to other matters.
He made search in various places for articles he
wished to find at Thornholm, but did not find
them. The slow course which he was obliged to
adopt annoyed him. As “ Dangerous Dave” he
had always liked to indulge in rapid action in a
detective case. This case could not be hurried.

Captain Hereford passed much of his time in
riding about the country, and did it so reckless-
ly that it was generally remarked that the hero
of Cerro Gordo Would not long be able to endure
dull country life. 

Roland gave a little time to his studies, but
not enough to help him much. His dogs and his
gun interested him most of all, but he was not
forgetful of Berenice: and he often called there.

Edward Crapo madea visit to Washington,
and on his return, repaid the money borrovved
of Roland. Then he fell to reading the Life of
Napoleon with fresh zeal.

One day Vincent received by a messenger a
note in well-known writing. He opened it and,
read as follows:

“ DEAR R—: I beg that you will come to the
house as soon as ssslble. Something itrango,
wonderful and joy n] has odourred. and no time is
to be lost. We shall all watch for you. Come!
Yomxdovingly, NINA." ~.

The secretary read with some surprise and a
good deal of wonder. What did it mean? Nina
was not one to go into ruptures over nothing, or
to use extravagant Ian uage. There must be
acme basis for her use ion, but what it was he
could not surmise. x .

Had the. papers which he so much coveted been
found elsewhere. -

This seemed hardly possible, but, as he was
wholly at liberty, he decided to lose no time in
obe 'ng the call. ;

he initial “ R ” in die note was no per lexity.
There had been a time, when he lived no er the'
ol sailor’s roof, that he was known as Robert
N recs, and by that name he was still best
kn n to his friends, even when he assumed the.

He made the journe throu h the swamp.

Afterward, he,reca led the ct that he had
no premonition of what was about to occur. The
day was pleasant, and hcexperienced a new de-
gree of chosrfulneas in consequence—that was

hisdbmnned face lighted up at sight of his fa;
vo re. ' ‘ 1
1 “Here I am again. captain!” the monetary

saluted, heartily. “ HOW do I find you?"

in his big rough palm and squeezed it heartily.
It seemed as if he would, never get enough of
that hand-shake, but net a word passed his ‘ lips.
Some emotion moved him stron ly, and, as
Vincent nod the quivering of h old friend’s
bearded lips, he began to be alarmed.

“ In anything'wrong’, captain?” he demanded.

violence. Then he walked all rapid y
“ Shoot me for an idiot!” he grow

“ but I’d have blub ’

hadn‘t got rid of the b0 i” ‘
In the meanwhile

hisneck, and the embrace was as warm a

 

“Hy dear sister!" he cried in alarm, «was

name of Walter Vincent. ~ ‘

incent 'had entered the 
cottage only to flnd‘Nina’s arms clasped arena "

p

. fierce! ’
bored likaabig basyii'l

all. ~
When he reached the cdtta the exvsailor wan g
sitting on the threshold, on mly smoking, and ,

. Captain Ned arose. , He took‘the viritor’a hand i

.5?

Still Ned Norcross said nothing, but he .pllshI. -‘ x
ed Vincent through the door with positive 

long-oontinued‘as the captain’s handshake.  l
tear. too; fell upon the visitor’shand. I v. -

   
  

, r7¢...y..w.w....r... "we. ~-  .,.. y..-“ ..

12

My..." M... ..

Dangerous Dave. ‘

 

 

.r . o “a... n inn—.5

 “ Nothingl Nothing, only I am happy.”
i “ \Vhat has happened?"
1 “Sit down with me!”

He obeyed, and her face still told of unusual
emotion. Her eyes were moist, and she clung
to him with fresh demonstrations of affection.

“ You perplex me, Nina,” he exclaimed.

“ Do I, brother:l You shall be enlightened.
We have had a strange life. Do you remember

it all?”

“ All except what occurred whenl was too
young to remember. ”

“ The rest you know from hearsay. You
know how good Captain Norcross, beingin Cuba
when the yellow fever began to abate, found us
there, two infants, and I but a week old;und
was told that our parents had both died of the
fever. You know how his big heart, and that
of his noble wife, warmed to us; how, learning

‘ that we were .friendless and in a land of
, strangers, they took charge of us, adopted us,
and brought us away.”
' ' “ Yes; but, Nina—”
' “You know how we were reared on the sen-
. shore, and we grew up to call the captain and
his wife our father and our mother—grew up
true children of the coast, fishing; rowing boats,
and getting our education as best we could.”

“ Preceod l” was the patient direction.

“You know," Nina went on, “ how, in time,
you grew ambitious, and, becoming a detective,
was so succeszul, and so dreaded by criminals,
that on gained the sobriquet of ‘Dangerous
Dave ;and—” '

“ Pass over that, Nina 1"

“Then, when ou had become famous, you re-
solved to go to buba and See if you could learn
more about our rentage—”

“ Yes; and went!” Vincent interrupted,

g‘ with sudden energy, “but it was not idle curi-
fi osity that sent me there. Before that I had
; met Maggie Warner. At the very first she re-
, garded me closely, and she finally advanced and
asked if I was related to the Thornholms, of

} Vir 'nia.

“ or manner was so stran that I finally
told her how I had behn a wu f of the hospital
in Cuba. She asked for the date, and, when I
gave it, uttered a sharp cry and nearly swooned.

t was long before I secured a coherent statement

2 from her, but I had it, at last.

‘“ Some twenty ears before she had been hired
as nurse to an in out boy called Roland Thorn-
holm. His father was Edward Cmpo; his
mother had been Rosalind Thornholm before her

1 marriage; and the boy had been given her
I famil name at his grandfather’s request.
. “ e Crepes, the child and Maggie Warner
journeyed to Cuba. There Mrs. Crapo fell ill
 I, with yellow fever. What did her husband do?
’ . He hastily deserted her and her child, at once,
and ran awe . '

  “Maggie arner was bolder. She remained
awhile, and saw her mistress taken into the
hospital. The boy went with her. And in the

‘.hospital a second child was born—a irl.
, “All the while the fever raged. a gio’ was
t young; she was afraid of the fever. Who would
v. not have been! She, too, ran away. I do not
' blame her. She, with no tie of blood, had stay-
ed longer than the cowardly husband who had
., deserted his own family.
, z ‘“ She embarked in the first Vessel she could get;
‘ _’ it took her to her old home, En land. She
' stayed there a score of ears, beset w th remorse
, ~ for her desertion, and t on returned to Virginia, I
 . which place she had never heard a word.

~11": “ Soon after her arrival she met me. She saw
,_ the Thornholm resemblance;she aocosted me:
a " her story followed. ‘
“You know how it stirred me up. I reso ed

“ to oto Cuba; I went. When Captain Nor ross
 you and me away, Nina, we worqnpmelesil.
 The record on the’ book simply referred to our
 -' mother as, ‘ Unknown woman, died leaving two
‘ ‘ children?
,4 I “Bastening to. Cuba I found and examined
 ,the record-book. Under the first entry was a
, - sooood. I remember its words well. .
' “ ‘ Her name was Rosalind Thornholm Cra ,
.‘ residence unknown. In the confusioii of he
 .' e, incorrect certificates of her death, andof
.. ho y, were sent, in response to a letter of in-
, i , to Edward Crnpv, Savannah, Georgia,
v .  A. This was become her identity was
, ‘ temporarily confused with that of a Mrs.
 Bobeoca Swan , and her son, Am both of
..‘whom died. The names of the is. r were
;- learned, later. Mrs. Onpo arose in delirium,
. _ I..,--..loft the h ital dud‘wu drowned in tho-on.
:,  ;' Her son, an a daughter whom born in the
« > , hospital, were given away to afgontlomnn and
l

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his wife. by a nurse, before the plague abated,
"and while all was yet oonfuslon,’ . , ‘ -
 ‘t h was the second recomflyiuoont r—

_  fined, with odoop breath, “ but itwasbnougfin?
 upmh ,. IroturnedtoVi al ,

l , , m Lodge was” , ’lns.
. quit-ad who lived there. . '

’. ‘ ,“I found Edward Crupo surrounded with

w MIT,le a young man roputodtobobiuon

5"”?mri’m’m a pthofhisinf ‘has

is I e . _ ‘myi.

W IN“,

M. the» he

man he

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second the “amongst-of

  
  
 

 

had determined to hold Thornholm at all haz-
ards.

“ Knowing that I was the true heir, I deter-
mined to defeat him. I—but this talk is idle.
Enough that i went there in a guise of inno-
cence, determined to search the whole house
for papers to prove my claim.

“ As Crnpo really believed me dead, as well
as his wife, he would have no motive in de-
stroying any valuable document except the
certificate of his son’s death, and that would
be no loss to me.

“Maggie \Vnrner described the house and
told me where the papers would be likely to
be kept. I Went; I have searched; I have
found nothing!"

Vincent had spoken rapidly and earnestly.

He had become filled With the excitement of
one who has a great purpOSo at heart, and had
forgotten all else while he talked.
b_But, as he phused, calmer thoughts came to

ll".

“1 have wandered from the subject. Why
did you introduce it, Nina? What is this mys-
tery?” ‘

Nina tightened her hold upon him.

“ Are you prepared for a great surprise?”

“Certainly, it“ it is a pleasant one. Have
valuable papers been found?”

“ it is not that.”

"' \Vhat, then?”

“It was a mistake when a certificate of your
death was made out, twenty years ago.”

“ Most certainly.”

“ Did it ever occur to you that another error
might have occurred i”

“ Anothorl Why do on speak so strangely?”

“)‘Valter, he prepare for a great revelation.
There was one errorcous certificate of death—”
f She raised her head and looked him in the
ace.

His col 1r chan ed perceptibly.

“ Surely, you on’t, you can‘t mean—”

“Whatif the other certificate was wrong,

it

“ Our mother’s !” cried Vincent, with a great
start.

“ Even so.”

“ But you don‘t mean—it is impossible—”

“ Walter, our mother is alive!”

Nina had prepared him as carefully as possi-
ble, but the color went out of his face and his
expression was startled and bewildered.

" Alive and here!” the sister added.

“ Impossible!”

“ But it is so. Rosalind Thornholm Crapo
lives] ‘Her own lips have stated the fact, and
Maggie Warner had seen and recognized her.
Even now Maggie is caring for her in the next
room—for our mother is ill. She came here in
most wretched rags, and seriously afflicted men-
tally. She was eranged, though not strictly
insane.”

“ A mad-woman?” cried Vincent, with a fresh
start. ‘

 

CHAPTER XVI.‘ \
STRANGELY nmunrrnn.

NINA hastened to reassure him.

” She is not mad, now.”

“ But she was—J’

“ Good Captain Norcross, always our guardian
angel, found her unconscious in the edge of the
wood. Hun er and hardship had so worn upon
her that she ad swooned from sheer exhaust on.
The captain brou ht her here. Walter, she was
the most wretch object I ever saw. She was
a mere bundle of to s, outwardly; you den’t
know how had her con ition was!”

“ I can guess!" uttered Vincent, deeply.

“We put her in bed and sent for a doctor.
He at once said the. he had been out of her
mind, but was in a air way of recovery. That
was esterday. ‘

“ hen Maggie and I had made her as neat
and clean as if she had been our dearest friend,
instead of a. lonely wanderer, Maggie surprised
me by lookin at her long and ard. I asked
why she did t. , r

‘ ‘ Child,’ she answered, ‘ if you want to know
'how your own mother would look, if she were
alive, old,sgra and unfortunate, gaze at this
woman. he who stran ely like her l’.’

“ I did not give the utter much thought.

then, but she continued to leok intent] .at the

unconscious woman. Finally, she ask me if
you made sure, in Cuba, that our mother died.
hen she brought out the infant’s garments you
had worn at the. hospital and, pointing to the
initial ‘ R. T.’ on one of them,.addod: » '

“ ‘I am going to show her that when she re.
gains consciousness. . nd . Thornholm
worked these letters with her "own hands, and if
this r creaturb is she—’

“ aggle did not finish the sentence but her
initial remained busy, as! could see, and her sus-

c on in . . I
p “ I confess that I thought her idea impossible.
“ All night our wonderer lay insensible.

on I cared for her by‘turns. This morn-
Tbelittle garments were not
bring, back

m “rpm” mud ” her recollection—she
 c ‘ \ V
 cm i" tie-Moved hm ‘ .
   {You Wigwa-

 

iu , o awoken
. I! ‘ w

  
  
  
 

pets;  no!”

 

 

“ And she is here now 8"

“Yes. The doctor has come again. and he
thinks that, with due care, she will never have
further mental trouble, adding that she must
have been nearing the pOint of sanity for some
time." ,

“ I am not able to belive it."

“ But she is as calm and rational as you are.
She remembers absolutely nothing since she
went into the hospital, twenty years ago, but,
before that, all is clear. She and Maggie inlkof
old times. Each is sure of the other‘s identity.
How can you doubtf”

" “ And She has been—”

” We are compelled to believe she has been an.
insane wanderer for over twenty years!”

“ Have you dared to tell her anything?"

" We have told her all .' Her first anxiety
was for her children. \Vhen We had assured
her that they were alive and well, the greater
part was told; the rest was easy. She was
weak bodily, but remarkably calm. More than
that, she is waiting to see her son I”

“ Can she bear it?"

“Why not, if she has borne what has gone
before?”

“ You are right. Let me see her; the sooner
the better.”

h g“ I, will go in at once. Maggie is caring for
er.

Nina moved accordingly, and disappeared in
the other room.

Vincent was left startled, wondering and con-
fused; but one idea was strong in his mind: he
believed that, when he saw the sick woman, it
would not be any unfamier face.

His sister soon returned, accompanied by
Maggie Warner. The latter’s eyes were filled
with tears. .

” Go in, Walter!” Nina directed, gently.

He Went. His first glance at the occupant of’
the bed revealed all that he had suspected; he
saw the mad-woman of the Black Acre!

A eat change had taken place in her. The.
soile , ragged garments of old had given place
to radical neatness; the once-disheveled hair
was carefully combed; and, best of all, the light.
of reason was in the late wanderer’s eyes, and
they were turned upon the strong young man
with mother] tenderness and longing

Nina and llaggie waited outside. The latter
had seized every suitable chance to weep tears
of remorse during the last few hours, and she
had another siege then. She could not forgive
herself for the assertion in Cuba; it had been a.
stingto her for tWenty ears and more; it re--
ma'ned a sting oven in t 6 time of reunion.

my minutespassed before Vincent opened
the door.
Nina.

She went to him; he took her hand and they
knelt by the bedside; the sick woman placed
her hands upon their heads, and fora long while
all Was silence.

Later brother and sister arose. It would not
do for their mother'- to talk to any great degree,
but she was far stronger than was to be ex.
pected, and there was much that [her son was
anxious to say. .

One subject be avoided. The blank of tWenty‘
years remained complete .With Mrs. Crepe. She
had no recollection of the scene at the Black
Acre, nor any suspicion that she had before
seen her son since she parted from him in Cuba.

Vincent felt that it‘was a merciful fact that;

it was so. ,

The, wronged Wife knew the exact state of
affairs at Thornholm—knew thatmnotber woo
man occupied her rightful place, and that a
false master ruled instead of or son.

It was easy to understand that Edward
Cra , believing that the real Roland had died
in bubs, had in some way secured a substitute,
in order to hold Thornholm illegall . The
youth of the two boys at the time, and ong ab-
sence, god enabled him to work the scheme suc-

l .

cessfu . '
became interested in Vincent's

tifl'
would, or could, deny the m
contesting parties would go

and other i‘nmil y documents. . .

If Edward Crapo had preserved the certificate
of his son’s death, it would help toprovo the-
present Roland an bumper, and that lie/had was
not impossible. .

History was full of cases where criminals
chewed damaging evidence to “Hiram Crach

had an object in reserving:i the 'POPe

G I'.
By means of t heoonl holdarod of term,

over the Roland’s hood and defeat any
desire on latter“! part t2) elect him from
Thornholm. ‘ '

Mrs. On board of the vain search of the
old whinet‘iiond new thoughtful. _
“ o’sidoo that the papers might be in
“the cab not was not 3006 ” she declared. “‘Old
locumoutl «Ian were kept there, as she says,
at first logo! the reason why Mr. Crapo
onld”not pa, what he knew to be so dangerous

" an» occurred to me,” returned vacant
3N ago you ever in his private room?" '
o. . V , ~

 

When he did, he silently beckoned to,

rs. Crapo
at pt to gain possession of the marriage-cer- ,
to, and other papers. Of course, no one-
riage, but the 
to court withn 
.much stronger case if they had the certiflcntozl'

 

 

 

 

 

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Dangerous Dave.

.  'zi~»'..:'-...
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13

 

 

 

“ Did you ever glance in?"

“ Not even that.”

“ In the old day 3 he had a trunk in which he
kept all of his valuables. He always kept it
locked, and :illowml no one to open or look into
it. It is true that many years have passed, but
I bclir-Ve that his old ways prevail, and that
whatever he has of a delicate nature is still kept
there,”

“ I rmncmber, now. that he always locks his
:I'oom when he leaves it.”

“ That looks suggestive.”

“So it (lot‘r. and i will visit the room.”
“ How can you do it?"
“ I will iind >0lll0 way.”

“ Don’t betray yourself.”
‘; “ Rest. a<~nred, I will not.”

“ 1 think the trunk will be found the proper
, clew. [low this talk brings back the past! And
4 so you visited the old portrait-room l"

“ Yes.”

“ And saw our ancestors looking down upon
you?”

~ “ Yes.”

“ I wish I could go there!"

Vincent saw that the matter was takingtoo
l strong a hold upon her mind, and the increase
 of color in her face betokened weanness. He
prudently left her alone With Nina, after direct-
ing that (‘Oll'v't'l’silClOl’l be dropped for awhile.
After an affectionate parting he left the room.

Captain N orcross had returned to his favorite
seat on the, threshold, and was smoking his pi ,
:but he put the latter away when the detective
seized his hand and shook it warmly.

“ Noble old friend i" Vincent exclaimed, “ you

are the guardmn angel of my family. Long ago
you found my Sister and myself in the worst of
situations, and brought us out of it gradually;
Now, my mother would havo died in the swamp
Only for you. May all blessings—”
i “ There, there, there! Don’tsa a word! Stop
it! Am I a pirate, that I should re on a wreck?
No; no more than I’m a guardian angel. I. an
angel? Pshaw, pshaw, boy! Look unmy face
and hands! The one is red enough for a beacon
light; the other big enough for a. boat’s sail.
w, ‘ No more praise, now. Stop it! Dash it, boy,
you weaken me!”

The old sailor jammed his hard knuckles into
his eyes, and took the hand away wet with salt
water that wclled from his honest heart. -

Vincent knew his benefactor well, and allowed
the rest to go unsaid.

They had just taken seats when avoice arose
' . from the southwest room.

‘ l I “ My crazy Frnchmanl” exclaimed Norcross.

.,...‘... w”... m»...

«an, A «.—, tn," ~

 

,4. “ Isn't be well, yet?” ’
 I “ No; though he ought tobe, and would have
' 3 | been, had he been less rattle-paved. His fever

was near its turn when he got up and pounded

his head against the wall, and generally knocked

himself around until he got a bad set-back.

IN ow the only wonder is that he is alive.”

“ Have you learned his name?” ’

“ No, nor anything else.”

“.Strunge l"

“I am running quite a hospital!” quoth Cap-

tain Ned. “ TWo patients on our hands already.

I hope no more will come, though I’ll take them

in if they are of the right sort."

The voice in the other room grew loud and
angry. ,\ .

“ 1 must quiet the“‘chap,” Norcross added.
IWill you come in?”

it Yes." 1

Vincent followed. .

On the bed lay a man who, plainly, was hav-
 ing a hard fight to preservo his life, yet an un-
 i ‘ conscious one. He had not had a lucid interval

' aincohe was brought to the cottage. . '

, He was of, middle age, with very black hair
and board, and histfaoe had once been swarthy,
but Was then It strange combination of pallor
rand . fever-flush. _ He was a desperately sick
man, and his ver name was unkn0wn.

“ Let me at him!" he suddenly cried; “ he’s
V ‘:the villain who struck pie with the knife!”

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVII.
, run suhnmmv muivns wmnvo.
~_ ~ . Tan: man’s manner was wild, but Captain
" A Norcross answered, soothingly:
“The fellow is gone, mossmate, and you are
:3]! right. The dun r is over; rest easy!”
7 ‘ A few words in. such his patient mutterai,
. and then gl'PW (inm- . ,,
,, e‘s seen storm: times, the air-calla! added.
_ g ' “‘ pw is the knife— wound l”
' i“ Doing finely. It was a doe slash, but he is
‘ \x'.’ puma ou in good style. If 0 ad been at-
, '* tend to lght after he was woun ed. he would
- ave had no trouble, but he was about no
. ,  hen I lscovered him floating down the ver
‘ ' on the riftwoo'd.‘ The n ht before hadboen
_  ‘b ht and moonlit ha tron h, butamw
  ‘5', 5:. spy ng rain came up”; a I ma 0 no doubt he
.   , lag soaking in u. an the driftwood, al the
"1. a w lie. He was haeroaen when I row out
and took him off. into my boat." '
“You still think he was the victim of at-
ted assassination!" '
I “There can’t be a doubt of. it. He lets it out
“ , '- in big, muttering, and the nuns-cut speaks for
>  .4_. iv ‘  U .. I r I‘ ‘ .

" .\ '

 

    

 

_ ineg .

“How do you think he came to be on the

' driftwood?”

“Nobody can say. Maybe he was flung into
the river, and struck the wood, unknown to the
murderer.”

“ If I had no other work, I would like this
case for detective sei'vwc.” ‘

“I sometimes fenr I’ve done wrong not to

at the start, once let him
he can tell us all, while, if i publish it abroad
now, the guilty man will have a chance to
escape.”

“ True.”

“ I pity this fellow.”

“ l\uturally; but his is not a good face.
has been a man of strong passions.”

The sick man stirred suddenly.

“ Out of the way!” he cried. “ No man shall
block my path. Hal 1 see you object; you mean
to kill me! Back, I slay! The knifel Coward,
coward 1”

He started up in delirious fear, but Norcross
gently forced him back to the pillow.

“ Be easy, shipmate; be ens ! Your enemy is
gone, (ind you are all right. :9 calm!”

He had great influence over the unknown,
and again the latter yielded. Norcross mixed a
powder which hedrank without remonstrunce.

“ He will soon be still,” the ex-sailor added.
“ I hope he will wake from some of his sleeps in
good condition, for I admit I don’t like acting as
nurse.”

“ You are proceeding with your usual self-
sacriflcing spirit, and I hope your patient will be
dul rateful, if he ever rccovers.’

“ he doctor thinks he will pull through.”

“ Well, ca taiu, I will leave you now; it is
not prudent or me to be away from Thornholm
ion r. I need not ask you to guard your charges
wel for I know your nature. ‘

“ I’ll do my best, my boy.”

They left t 9 room, parted bythe cottage, and
Vincent hastened away. His step was lighter
than it had been for many da 3.

At last, he had a mother, i not a father.

As he wont be mused upon the strange chance
that had made him the protector of that mother
when she was so sorely afflicted and miserable.
Little had he thought, then, that he was
befriending one to whom he owed natural allegi-
ance. *

He was going along in a mood of exhilaration
and thankfulness when he; had a new thought
which brought him to an abrupt stop.

His expression became one of consternation—
he had suddenly thought of Veva Crapc.

Before, his conscience had reproacbed him be-
cause he was seeking to drive her father and
mother away from Thornholm. How was it
now? The case had become a thousand-fold
worse.

The Mrs. Crapo of Norcross cottage was
Edward’s only legal wife; Veva called the second
Mrs. Crapo mother!

No wonder, with his deep respect and at-
fection for Veva, that the secretary’s strong
face trembled with emotion, as he stood there
alone in the swamp.

h ‘f lilierciful heavonsl” he muttered, “ it will kill
er! ~

It was long before be stirred from his position.
Time passed unhceded;
way by which to save, to spare the girl. At the
very start he knew that there was no way——
none, except to abandon the war against Crapo.

At last he has ready—even eager—to do it, as
far as he was concerned alone, but; he thought
of his mother and her wgongs.

“It cannot be! The work must go on. It is
2 terrible thing for Veva, but I am helpless.

bove all else earthly I owe allegiance to my
mother. I will go on; I’ll harden my heart; the
innocent must suffer" with the guilty!" 5

He

his way, ' ut the hardening process did not pro-
gress rapidly. , ,

When he reached Tliornholm' he told a Servant
that he was ill and went to his room. He did
not emer 9 until the next morning.

He b been engaged in a hard tight with
himself, and the result was outward com
He knew that there could be no turning back,
and he had determined to treat Veva with re-
served politeness. ‘ 

Strug is as he would he must break her heart
later. ere was no help for it. ‘All he‘could
do was to'loarn to be ind Rel-out.

Soon after breakfast he received word by
“way of a slave from Roland that he would not

‘\ Scttin his face in a stern frown he resumed

!
I
l
l

not waver—he would be frigid, and leave her as
soon as possible. V

Again Futc bullied him. Vevaldid not know
of his intentions. She had made a shapely
wreath, crown-shaped, from the leaves of the
old trees, and, being in high spirits, suddenly

: pounced upon him.

. report it to the authorities, but, as I told you i
get his senses and ;

He was seeking for some ‘

4

he wanted that day, as the latter had gone on a ,

hunt. ‘ .
Vincdut made a decision at Once. From that
'timo, he pught to, and would, avoid Veva, and
‘ the easiest way to do it was to absent himself as
much as poaiblo.
0n ‘the present Occasion he would go for a
walk to the northwest, in ‘the_direction oi! the
Royalston notation. ' . ‘. ‘
Fate is o teucapricious. It was so‘ on this" océ
casino. The secretary was rapidly crossing’the
grounds beyond the mansion when he came face
to face Witlhaera. ' *
She had , iy looked
flush was in héitdacnfiand her drea'wu- strik-
. W .03 th mt did

 

prettier. A  r

    

D

 

'frontery of the student of Napoleon.

'but

“ Would you be greater than Napoleon?" she
demanded, lightly. “ “'ith all his pouer of
years he was without a crown in his last days;
Seel—you are. his superior: you wear a crown!”

The secretary had politely removed his hat to
greet her, and before he could divine her inten-
tion<, She had put the crown on his head and
stood smiling brightly, mischievously into his
face.

How Vincent would have met this little arti-
fice can never be known. It was most untimely
done.

Edward Crapo had been sauntering along a
p'ith, unconscious that any one was near him.
He. turned a group of shrubbery and saw, not
the impulsive way in which all had been ddne,
but the result. ' .

There stood Veva and the secretary, face to
face, and apparently on very friendly terms of
equality, and Mr. Crapo was impressed with the
idea that he had never seen a more pronounced
love-scene. '

He cleared his throat ominously; they turned
and saw him.

Veva snatched off the unlucky crown as im-
pulsively as she had put it on, and her face
flushed anew. ‘

“Miss Cm ,” said Edward, with cold com-
posure, “ I think your mother wishes to see you
in the house!”

Veva stammered in her reply. If she had not
been inclined, now that it was ever, to regard
the affair as foolish, his icy reminder put it
on a worse footing. She knew what was in
his mind; she knew there was trouble ahead for
her.

Before she had recovered from he'r confusion
she was on her way to the mansion with Crapo‘,
and the secretary was left alone. '

Annoyed by the mishap, the latter kept on
his way and carried out his revious plan.
He expected to hear from the a air again, and
he did.

Soon after his return he was informed by a
negro that Mr. Crapo requested his presence
in the library. He went at once. The elder
gentleman was sing the Life of Napoleon,
but he laid it aside with deliberate calmness.

“The day is fine, Mr. Vincent,” he remarked.

“Yes, 811',” answered the secretary, with
equal calmness.

“ Doubtless, you have been for alwaikl”

“ Yes, sir." - -

“ Thornholm is a fine proper ty.”

“ It is, indeed.” i , ~.

“ Miss Royalston is to be congratulated on

securing such a home by marrying Roland.”

“ Thornholm can hardly be excelled.”

“ My daughter, however, will be about as
well provided for, later.”

Vincent could not fail to understand the-
gradual advance;

“ Yes, sir,” he again answered.

“ She is to marry John Jay Lennox.”

“ Lennox has a fine plantation.”
, “ Very. “ Veva‘s martin
suitable, both being of 01 families and nob
blood. (“is Thornholm and Lennox wealth ll
about a stand-off.”

to him will,beue '~ -'

Really, it was amusing to see the cool ‘91- I

Almort,
penniless, himself, Veva must go to Lennox
without a dollar, if she want at all, bomber
father ignored the fact calmly. ’
“My daughter is young,” he pursued, in
even voice, “and not always wise. You w'
excuse me if I say she proved
apde of today. I refer to the a
" Yes?"

rd crown.”

“ Yes, Mr. Vincent. Considering that she is f 

the pledged wife of Lennox, she was very

thoughtless to act as she did. True, she isa - ~
natural mquette, butI strongly disappmve of ,_ ’
courae’ *- 

“ I think no harm was done, sir," quietly  I: I

turned Vincent, anxious to avert a storm,
Veva’s sake. ~

.0 I W
than my dau beer. You mnstsee thedifferexwo
in your wor l position and hers. rYouara

,poor; she is an siressl"  . 
Again the marvelous impudence of assertion,-,.'

t fell upon im 'imble armor.
“ fully realize t, sir."

his in the epi-L

r

not. You. Mr. Vincent, are older 

“No ‘doubt you are fond of her; we all >

But. ’pray. isir, do not indulge her new.
Your mnhwd demands that you do not .t not
make sport of you. Women Mr. Vince-titre" _
merciless in their flirtatious;
is urelv artificial, not natural, like man's!" x"
r."Crapo looked. athis slender hands a it
conscious that their Whitman: arms from” tho
fact that thew-urn aloha, morally; ‘- .
“ l acquit,” placidl’y answered the secretary. '
- “Vermhbluguh  ts Lennox‘s wife, in
notboquetwlthan otherman. Of course "
agree with me, sir -- .   
,“All yan'lhave said shows fatherly
 similar wcfldly wisdom.  :

all  , fig .

       

eirsenae of-honor : 

")AI‘. «.

 
 

‘ 1......— ._....‘.m.,.,.. ........'.,"

 

12

 

.‘ y)

 

Dangerous Dave.

 

“ Nothing! Nothing, only I am happy.”

“ \tht has happened?"

“ Sit down with me!”

He. obeyed, and her face still told of unusual
emotion. Her eyes were moist, and she clung
to him with fresh demonstrations of affection.

“ You perplex inc, Nina," he exrlainied.

“ Do I, brothcrll You shall be enlightened.
We have had a strange life. Do you remember
it all?”

“All except what occurred when I was too
young to remember.”

“ The rest you know from hearsay. You
know how gool Captain Norcross, being in Cuba
when the yellow fever began to aha to, found us
there, two infants, and I but a week old;and
Was told that our parents had both died of the
fever. You know how his big heart, and that
of his nobln wife, warmed to us; how, learning

\ that we were .fi-iendless and in a land of

, strangers, they took charge of us, adopted us,
and brought us away.”

I “ Yes; but, Nina-”

‘ “You know how we were reared on tho son-
shore, and we grew up to call the captain and
his wife our father and our mother—grew up
true children of the coast, fishing; rowing boats,
and getting our education as best we could."

“ Proceed!” was the patient direction.

“You know," Nina went on, “ how, in time,
you grew ambitious, and, becoming a detectivu,
was so successful, and so dreaded by criminals,
that you gained the sobriquet of ‘Dangerous
Dave ’; aud—” ‘

“ Pass over that, Nina l”

“Then, when you had become famous, you re-
solved to go‘ to bubs and see if you could learn
more about our rentage—”

“ Yes; and went!” Vincent interrupted,

:‘ with sudden energy, “ but it was not idle curi-
‘ osity that sent me there. Before that I had
met Maggie Warner. At the very first she re-
, garded me closely, and she finally advanced and
asked if I was related to the Thornholms, of

{ Vir inia.

“ er manner was so strange that I finally
told her how I had behn a wa f of the hospital
in Cuba. She asked for the date, and, when I

' . ave it, uttered a slam cry and nearly swoonod.

t was long before I secured a coherent statement
: from her, but I had it, at last.

,f‘ Some twenty cars before she had been hired

as nurse to an in ant boy called Roland Thorn—

lm. His father was Edward Crapo; his
mother had been Rosalind Thornholm before her

, marriage; and the boy had been given her
'» famil name at his grandfather’s request.

‘ “ e Crapos, the child and Maggie Warner
journeyed to Cuba. There Mrs. Crapo fell ill
with yellow fever. What did her husband do’ll
Ha hastily deserted her and her child, at once,
and ran awa . '

“Maggie arner was bolder. She remained

' awhile, and saw her mistress taken into the
hospital. The boy went with her. And in the
.hospital a second child was born-a irl.

“ All the while the fever raged. aggie' was

; young; she was afraid of the fever. W 0 would

- not have been? She, too, ran away. I do not

blame her. She, with no tie of blood, had stay-

ed longer than the cowardly husband who had

, deserted his own family.

- _ ’ ‘9‘ She embarked in the first vessel she could get;

" -.. 1' it took her to her old home, England. She

 stayed there a score of ears, beset With remorse
for hsr dosertion, and t on returned to Virginia,

‘ ' . from which place she had novar heard a word.

 ’ r “ Soon after her arrival she met me. Shesaw
z the Thornholm resemblance;shs accosted me:

.. ' ' her story followed.

. ' “You know how it stirred me up. I reso 0d

." to o to Cuba; I want. When Captain Nor ross

' you and me away, Nina, we werauameless.

The record on the‘ book simply referred to our

, j ' mother as, ‘ Unknown woman, died leaving two

 ,childron'.’

* “Hastening to Cubs I found and examined
 x the record-book. Under the first entry was a

ascend. I remember its words well.

9' ‘Hsr name was Rosalind Thornholm Crs ,
residence unknown. In the confusibn of he
. phi s, incorrect certificates other death, and of

i he y, were sent, in response to a letter of in-

?iig, to Edward Crapo, Savannah, Georgia,
. . A. This was because her identity was

‘ temporale confused with that of a Mrs.

 

i

.7... 11...-.. ..

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1‘.

{may

    
  
  
    
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
 
    
    
 
   
  
  
     
   
  
  
  
   
    
    
   
   
 
   
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
    
  
   
    
  
    
  
  
  
  
   

 :(l

Rsbeoca wan , and her son, Am both of
J Nth died. he names of the in r wore
 learned, later. Mrs. Craps arose in delirium,

_. left the hos ital ind‘wss drowned in theses.
Her son, an a daughter whom born in the
hospital, were given away to [gentlemen and
, hlswife,’bya nurse, before tho oahatod,
, and while all wasyctconfusion.’ _ , ' .
 “Such was the second recordflVluoont ur-
; - sued, with a deep breath, “ but it was smug f
1-7“ sun-me up thorough . IreturnedtoVi aid:
;  learned where'l‘ho lm Lodge was,“ i
,5 i , .quirod who lived there. .
,~ " p ,“I found Edward Crapo surrounded with
 ‘ luxury snda young man roputedtobohlsson
 ‘attho ofthsbouss. . »
of-his infamy; Not

‘ “Thaalknswths do I!
,-onl hdhomhisevtifsnndchlldlnnbs‘u

       
  

' D“

 
   
   
   
 
 

  

     
 

 

 
 

ards.

“Knowing that I was the true heir, I deter-
mined to defeat him. I—but this talk is idle.
Enough that I went there in a guise of inno—
cence, determined to search the whole house
for papers to prove my claim.

“ As Crapo really believed me dead, as wall
as his wife, he would have no motive in de-
stroyiug any valuable document except the
certificate of his son’s death, and that would
be no loss to inc.

“Maggie “'arner described the house and
told me where the papers would be likely to
be kcpf. I went: I have searched; I have
found nothing!"

Vincent had spoken rapidly and earnestly.

He had become filled With the excitement of
one who has a grunt purpose at heart, and had
forgotten all else while he talked.

But, as be phased, calmer thoughts came to
him.

“1 have wondered from the subject. \Vhy
did you introduce it, Nina? What is this mys-
tery!” ‘

Nina tightened her hold upon him.

“ Are you prepared for a great surprise?"

“Certainly, if it is a pleasant one. Have
valuable papers been found?”

“ it is not that.”

"' What, then?”

“It was a mistake when a certificate of your
death was made out, twenty years ago.”

“ Most certainly.”

“ Did it ever occur to you that another error
might have occurred l”

“ Anothor! Why do ou speak so strangely?”

“)Valter, be prepare for a great revelation.
There was one crrorcous certificate of doath—”
1 She raised her head and looked him in the
ace.

His col ir changed perceptibly.

“ Surely, you don’t, you can‘t mean—”

“’YVhat if the other certificate was wrong,

I

“ Our mother’s !" cried Vincent, with a great
start.

“ Even so.”

“ But you don’t mean—it is impossible—”

“ Walter, our mother is alive l”

Nina had prepared him as carefully as possi-
ble, but the color went out of his face and his
expression was startled and bewildered.

“ Alive and here!" the sister added.

“ Impossible!”

“ But it is so. Rosalind Thornholm Crapo
lives] Her own lips have stated the fact, and
Maggie Warner had seen and recognized her.
Even now Maggie is caring for her in the next
room—for our mother is ill. She came here in
most wretched ra ., and seriously afflicted men-
tally. She was firanged, though not strictly
insane.”

“ A mad-woman?” cried Vincent, with a fresh
start.

 

CHAPTER XVI.‘
STRANGELY REUNI’I‘ED.

NINA hastened to reassure him.

“ She is not mad, now.” ‘

“ But she was—”

“ Good Captain Ncrcross, always our guardian
angel, found her unconscious in the edge of the
wood. Hun er and hardship had so worn u n
her that she ad swooned from sheer exhaust on.
The captain brou ht her here. Walter, she was
the most wretch object I ever saw. She was
a mere bundle of ra a, outwardly; you don’t
know how had her con ition was!”

“ I can guess!” uttered Vincent, eeply.

“We put her in bed and sent for a doctor.
He at once said that he had been out of her
mind, but was in a air way of recovery. That
was yesterday. "

“ Vhon Maggie and I had made her as neat
and clean asi she had been our dearest friend,
instead of a lonely wanderer, Mu gie surprised
me by lookin at her long and ard. I asked
why she did t. , r“

‘ ‘ Child,’ she answered, ‘if you want to know
how your own mother would look, if she were
alive, old, gray and unfortunate, gaze at this
woman. he ooks strangely like herl’,’

, " I did not givo the matter much thought.
then, but she continued to 100k intent] .at the
unconscious woman. Finally, she ask me if
an made sure, in Cuba, that our mother died.
on she'brought out the infant’s garments you
had worn at the hospital and, pointing tothe
initial ‘ R. T.‘ on one of them, added; ‘

“ ‘ I am going to show her that when she re-
gains consciousness. Rowlind , Thornholm
worked those letters with her own hands, and if
this r creature is she—’

“ aggie did, not finish the sentence, but her
mind remained busy, as I could see, and her cusp

picion in . , ‘ '

"‘ I confess that I thought her idea impossible.
“ All ui ht‘ our wanderer lay insansiblo.
Magpies an I cared for her by-turns. This morn-
ing s o awoke. a little garments were not

' ' bring, back her "collection—she

my
swokoin rl ht mind.” I
~ ;;_sad,.wr§iomned ‘ii

  

 

  
 

  

  
  

   
  
   

 

had determined to hold Thornholm at all haz— '

'had an object in reservln

 

“ And she is here now?”

“Yes. The doctor has come again. and he
thinks that, with due care, she will licw'r have.
further mental trouble, adding that she must
have been nearing the pOint of sanity for some
time." ,

“I am not able to beliVn it."

“ But she is as calm and rational as you are.
She remembers absolutely nothing since she
went into the hospital, twenty years ago, but,
before that, all is clear. She and Maggie tnlkof
old times, Each is sure of the others identity.
How can you doubt!”

 “ And she has been—”

“We are compelled to believe she has been an
insane wanderer for over twenty years!”

“ Have you dared to tell her anything?"

" lVe have told her all .' Her first anxiety
was for her children. then We had assured
her that they were alive and well, the greater
part was told; the rest was easy. She was
weak bodily, but remarkably calm. More than
that, she is waiting to see her son I”

“ Can she bear it?”

“Why not, if she has borne what has gone
before!”

“ You are right. Let me see her; the sooner
the better.”

“ I will go in at once.
her.”

Nina moved accordingly, and disappeared in
the other room.

Vincent was left startled, wondering and con—
fused; but one idea was strong in his mind: he:
believed that, when he saw the sick woman, it
would not be any unfamiliar face.

His sister soon returned, accompanied by
Maggie Warner. The latter’s eyes were filled
with tears. v

“ Go in, Waltorl” Nina directed, gently.

He went. His first glance at the occupant of
the bed revealed all that be had suspected; he
saw the mad-woman of the Black Acre!

A eat change had taken place in her. The,
soile , ragged garments of old had given place
to radical neatness; the once-disheveled hair
was carefully combed; and, best of all, the light.
of reason was in the late wanderer’s eyes, and,
they were turned upon the strong young man
with motherl tenderness and longing

Nina and Juggle waited outside. The latter
had seized every suitable chance to weep tears
of remorse during the last few hours, and she
had another siege then. She could not forgive
herself for the desertion in Cuba; it had been a.
stingto her for tin-my ears and more; it re-
ma'ned a sting avon in I. e time of reunion.

my niinutesfpassed before Vincent opened
the door. When he did, he silently beckoned to;
Nina.

She went to him; he took her hand and they
knelt by the bedside: the sick woman placed
her hands upon their heads, and fora longr while
all was silence.

Later brother and sister arose. It would not
do for their mother to talk to any great degree,
but she was far stronger than was to be ex-
pected, and there was much that ,her son was
anxious to say. .

One subject he avoided. The blank of tWenty
iyl'ears remained complete ,with Mrs. Crapo. She

ad no recollection of the scene at the Black
Acre, nor any suspicion that she had before
soon her son since she parted from him in Cuba.

Vincent felt that it Was a merciful fact that.
it was so.

Maggie is caring for

The, wronged wife knew the exact state of ,

affairs at Thornholm—knew that'xanother wo—
man occupied her rightful place, a'nd that a.
false manor ruled inst of or son.

It was easy to understand that Edward
Ci‘n , believing that the real Roland had died

in bubs, had in some way secured a substitute, .

in order to hold Thornholm illegall . The
youth of the tw0 boys at the time, and ong ab-
sence, grid enabled him to work the scheme suc-
cessful . r

Crapo become interested in Vincent‘s
tifl to, and other papers. Of course, no one
would, or could, deny the m
contesting parties would go

and other family documents. .

If Edward Crapo had preserved the certificate
of his son’s death. it would help toprove the
present Roland an helper, and that lie/had was
not impossible. ‘ .

History was full of cases where criminals
allowed damaging evidence tflo‘ 6:133:35.“ Grape

a t .

By means of t hoopla 1501635231? gonor-
over the in Roland en , on 9 'ea any
desire 0111,0516 lstter‘s part to elect him from
Thornholm. v -- ‘ . ‘

Mrs. Capo heard of the vain search of tho
old cabinet and SN“ thoughtful. .

u “we. thus the papers might be in
the cab not was not 800d ” she declared. “' Old

ioc‘uments slwn were kept there, as she says,
at 01st is us the reason why Mr.
ouldnuot pu what he knew to he so daugemus

“  occurred to me,” returned Vincsdt.
, :N one you ever in his private room?” f
& J .

at§iht to Rain wisession of the marriage-oer ,

riage, but the 
to court withn J
.much stronger case if they had the certification

   
      
       
   
    
     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

      

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5 ‘,a." 3,

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angerous ’ Dave.

;.\ _. .. -.

D.

13

 

“ Did you ever glance in?"

“ Not even that.”

“ In the old day 5 he had a trunk in which he
kept all of his valuables. He always kept it
locked, and allow-d no one to open or look into
it. It is true that many years have passed, but

I bclicw that his old ways prevail, and that .

whatever he has of a delicate nature is still kept
there,”

“ I remmnbcr, now. that he always locks his
:l‘oom when he leaves it.”

“ That looks suggustirc.”

“ So it dill,“ . and i will visit the room.”

“ How can you do it?”

“ I will iind N)lll0 way.”

“ Don’t betray yourself.”

“ Rest a<~urcd, I will not.”

“ 1 think the trunk will be found the proper
clew. How this talk brings back the past! And
so you visited the old portrait-room?”

“ Yes.”

“And saw our ancestors looking down upon

9”
you.

‘6 Yes.”

“ I wish I could go there!"

VinCent saw that the matter was takingtoo
strong a hold upon her mind, and the increase
of color in her face betokened wearinsss. He
prudently left her alone With Nina, after direct-
ing that convci'sution be dropped for awhile.
After an affectionate parting he left the room.

Captain NUTCI'USS had returned to his favorite
seat on the threshold, and was smoking his pipe,
but he put the latter away when the detective
seized his hand and shook it warmly.

“ Noble old friend i" Vincent exclaimed, “ you
are the guardian angel of my family. Long ago
you found my Sister and myself in the worst of
situations, and brought us out of it gradually.
Now, my mother would have died in the swamp
only for you. May all blessings—3’

" There, there, there! Don’t sa a word! Stop
it! Am I a pirate, that I should re on a wreck?
No; no more than I’m a guardian angel. I. an
angel? Pshaw, pshaw, boy! Look at-my fabe
and hands! The one is red enough for a beacon
light; the other big enough for a. boat‘s sail.

" No more praise, now. Stop it! Dash it, boy,
you weaken me!”

The old sailor jammed his hard knuckles into
.his eyes, and took the hand away wet with salt
water that wclled from his honest heart. -

Vincent knew his benefactor well, and allowed
the rest to go unsuid.

They had just taken seats when a voice arose
from the southwest room.

“ My crazy Frnchmanl” exclaimed Norcross.

“ Isn't be well, yet?” '

“ No; though he ought lobe, and would have

| been, had he been less rattle-pitted. His fever
was near its turn when he got up and pounded
his head against the wall, and generally knocked
himself around until he got a bad set-back.
Now the only wonder is that he is alive.”

“ ave you learned his name?”

“ No, nor anything else.”

“Strange!” - y

“I am running quite a hospital!" quoth Cap-

tain Ned. “ Two patients on our hands already. ,

I hope no more will come, though I’ll take them
in if they are of the right. sort.
‘ The voice in the other room grew loud and

angry. y,» .

“I must quiet thec‘chap," Norcrous added.
TWill you come in?”

“ Yes." /

Vincvnt followed. '

0n the bell lay a man who, plainly, was havs
ing a hard fight to preserve his life, yet an un-
conscious one.
since he was brought to the cottage. ,

He was of, middle age, with very black hair
and b68111. and his face had once been swarthy,
but was then a strange combination of pallor
rand fever-final). He was a desperately sick
man. and his ver name Was unkn0wn.

“Let me at him!” he suddenly cried; “he’s

‘ ,rthe villain who struck pie with the knife!”

 

CHAPTER XVII.

‘ THE Sit-human? maivns wmmo.

  
 

 .fin his muttering, and the knife-cut
-  . l i ‘_ fl , ’ \ ’

, and then grew quiet.

Tm: man’s manner was wild but on min
Norcross answered, soothingly: ’ p

“The fellow is gone, niessm
:all right. The duo

. . A few words in

ate, and you aim
risover; restoas l”
ench his patient muttered,

,hfie's Been storm: times,” the exaailor added.
V “pr is the knife-Wound?”

“Doing finely. It was 8 (‘69 818811, but be is
Vpulli , out in good style. If u been at-
tend to right after he was woun ed. he would

ave had no trouble, but he was about gone

hen I ircovered him floating down the ri‘Ver
on the riftwood.” The night before had been
,‘ bright and moonlit half throu . but a raw
spring rain came up, and I ma e no doubt he
, la soaking in it. on» the driftwood, al the
w ile. Ho was half-frown when I row “out
and took him of, into myboat."
“Yen still think he wasthe victim of at-
tem ted assassination?” I ’
“ There can’t be a doubt of. it. , He lets it out

   

He had not had a lucxd interval .

  

speaksfor

“Nobody can say. Maybe he was flung into
the river, and struck the wood, unknown to the
murderer.”

case for detective scrvxcc.”
l “ I sometimes fear I’ve done wrong not to
l report it to the authorities, but, as I told you
at the start, once let him get his senses and
he can tell us all, while, if I publish it abroad
now, the guilty man will have a chance to
escape.”

“ ’I‘rue.”

“ I. pity this fellow.”

“ haturally; but his is not a good face.
has been a man of strong passions.”

The sick man stirred suddenly.

“ Out of the way!” he cried. “ No man shall
block my path. Ha! I see you object; you mean
to kill me! Back, I shy! The knife! Coward,
coward l"

He started up in delirious fear, but Norcross
gently forced him back to the pillow.

“ Be easy, shipmate; be easy! Your enemy is
gone, and you are all right. e calm 1”

He had great influence over the unknown,
and again the latter yielded. Norcross mixed 8.
powder which he drank without remonstrance.

“ Ho will soon be still,” the ex-sailor added.
“ I hope he will wake from some of his sleeps in
good condition, for I admit I don't like acting as
nurse.”

“ You are proceeding with your usual self-
sacriflcing spirit, and I hope your patient will be
duly rateful, if he ever reCOVers.’

“ he doctor thinks he will pull through.”

“ Well, on tain, I will leave you now; it is
not prudent or me to be away from Thornholm
lon r. I need not ask you to guard your charges
W81 for I knOw your nature. '

“ l’ll do my best, my boy."
They left t a room, parted bythe cottage, and
Vincent hastened away. His step was lighter
than it had been for many do.

At last, he had a mother, i not a father.

As he went he mused upon the strange chance
that had made him the protector of that mother
when she was so sorely afflicted and miserable.
Little had he thought, then, that he was
befriending one to whom he owed natural allegi-
ance. *

He was going along in a mood of exhilaration
and thankfulness when he. had a new thought
which brought him to an abrupt stop.

His expression ame one of consternation—
be had suddenly thought of Veva Crapo.

Before, his conscience had reproached him be-
cause he was seeking to drive her father and
mother away from Thornholm. How was it
now? The case had become a thousandvfold
worse.

The Mrs. Crapo of Norcross cottage was
Edward’s only legal wife; Veva called the second
Mrs. Crapo mother! ,

No wonder, with his deep respect and af~
faction for Veva, that the secretary’s strong
face trembled with emotion, as he stood there
alone in the swamp.

h ‘flllflerciful heavens!” he muttered, “ it will kill

er .

It was long before he stirred from his position.
Time passed unheeded'; He was seeking for some
way by which to save, to spam the girl. At the
very start he knew that there was no way——
none, except to abandon the war against Crapo.

At last he has ready—even eager—to do it, as
far as be was concerned alone, but he thought
of his mother and her wgongs.

“it cannot be! The work must go on. It is
2 terrible thing for Veva, but I am helpless.

hove all else earthly I owe allegiance to,my
mother. I will go on; I’ll harden my heart; the
Moment must sufler’with the guilty l" ‘ -

He

his way, but the hardening process did not pro-
gressrapidly. a ; .

When he reached Thornholm be told a servant
that he was ill and wont to his room. Hedid
not emei'cglo until the next morning. v V

He h been engaged in a hard fight with
himself, and the result was outward oompomre.
He knew that there could» be no turning back,
and he had determined to treat Veva with re-
served politeness. ‘ ‘9‘ r

Stru lo ashe would he must break her heart
later. ere was no help for it. 'All he'could
do was to'learn to be indiflerent. '
, Soon after breakfast he received word by
way of a slave from Roland that he would not

hunt. ' . , ,
Vincdnt made a decision at once. From that
‘tlme he ought to, and would, avoid Veva, and
‘the easiest way to do it was to absent himself as
much as possible.

~ 0n ’the present occasion he would go for a
walk totbe northwest, in ‘the dbectibn of the
303'san , ntation. -

Fate is o u capricious. It was so on this oc-

‘grounds beyondth‘e mansion when he came face
to face wit‘haxeita. ‘ > A ‘

’ She had, ly. looked prettier: ’A becoming
flush wasinli xffléfl-‘afld  dress was strik-
. incl: v V ' ' 

 

iv.
'1.

“x Setting his face in a stern frown he resumed

l
v “How do you think 'he came to be on the
driftwood?”

I

he wanted that day, as the latter had gone on a ._

  

casino. The secretary was rapidly crossing‘the P

frontery of the student of Napoleon.

 

m, m ' «Awenuw

not waver—he would be frigid, and leave her as
soon as pOssiblc. ,

Again Fate baffled him. Veva”did not know
of his intentions. She had made a shapely

, f wreath, crown-shaped, from the leaves of the
“ If I had no other work, I would like this i

old trees, and, lwing in high spirits, suddenly
pounced upon him.

“ Would you be greater than Napoleon?“ she
demanded, lightly. “ \‘Vith all his pom-r of
years he was without a crown in his last days.
Heel—you are his superior; you wear a crovrnl”

The secretary had politely removed his hat to
grcet her, and before he could divine her inten-
tions, She had put the crown on his head and
stood smiling brightly, mischievously into his
face.

How Vincent would have met this little arti-
fice can never be known. It was most untimely
done.

Edward Crapo had been saunicring along a
path, unconscious that any one was near him.
He turned a group of shrubbery and saw, not
the impulsive way in which all had been dcfiie,
but the result. '

There stood Veva and the secretary, face to
face, and apparently on very friendly terms of
equality, and Mr. Crapo was impressed with the
idea that he had never seen a more pronounced
love-scene. '

He cleared his throat ominously; they turned
and saw him.

Veva snatched of! the unlucky crown as im-
pulsively as she had put it on, and her face
flushed anew. ‘

“Miss Cra ,” said Edward, with cold com-
posure, “ I think your mother wishes to see you
in the house!”

Veva stammered in her reply. If she had not
been inclined, now that it was Over, to regard
the affair as foolish, his icy reminder put it
on a worse footing. She knew what was in
his mind; she knew there was trouble ahead for

r.

Before she had recovered from he'r confusion
she was on her way to the mansion with Crapo,
and the secretary was left alone. -

Annoyed by the mishap, the latter kept on
his way and carried out his previous plans.
Hegfipected to hear from the affair again, and
he i .

Soon after his return he was informed by a
negro that Mr. Crapo requested his presence
in the library. He went at once. ,The elder
gentleman was sing the Life of Napoleon,
but he laid it aside with deliberate calmness.

“’{rhe day is line, Mr. Vincent," he remarked.

0‘ eq,
equal calmness.

“ Doubtless, you have been for a walk?”

“ Yes, sir." I ‘

“ Thornholm is a fine proper ty."

“ It is, indeed.” i , w.

“ Miss Royalston is to be congratulated on
securing such a home by marrying Roland.”

“ Thornholm can hardly be excelled.”

“ My daughter, however, will be about as
well provided for, later.”

Sir,” answered the secretary, with ~.

Vincent could not fail to understand the»

gradual advance.

" Yes, sir,” he again answered.

“ She is to marry John Jay Lennox.”

“ Lenuox has a fine plantation.” ' I
, “ Very. ' Veva‘s marriage to him will ,be we "
suitable, both being of 01 familieh and nob

blood. 1‘16 Thm'nholm and Lennox wealth ii A

about a standooif.”

Really, it was amusing to see the cool oft,

Almost,
penniless, himself, Veva must go to Lean
without a dollar, if she went at all, butgher .
father ignored the fact calmly. ‘

“My daughter is young,” he pursued, in w
W

even voice, “and not always wise. You

excuse me if I say she proved

apdeofho-da . Irefertothea
" Yes?”

rd crown.”

,

his in the epi-. 2

“‘Yes., Mr. Vincent. Considering that she is . , . , g;

the pledged wife of Lennox, .she was Very

thoughtless to act as she did. True,'she is: 9

natural
her course.’

“ I think no harm was done, sir,”
turned Vincent, anxious to avert a storm,
Veva’s sake. v . , ,.

“I hope not. You. Mr. Vincent, are older
than my daufhter. You mustsee thedifferenca
In your wor dl position and hers. i'You are.

.poorzshe is an eiressl" . b _  ._
, in the marvelous impudence of asserting
bnt it fell upon im reguable armor. ‘, , ' . I

A
“I fully malice t, sir."

coquette, but} strongly disapprove of l > _
quietly ret' :

“No ‘doubt you are fond of her; we alums." %

But, ’proy. sir, do not indulge her

Q  ..

Your manhood demands that you do piglet her 
make sport of you. Women, Mr. Vincentropo  -'

merciless in their flirtatious; sir sense ofhonor
is urer artificiah‘not natural, like mm’sl”  ,
r."Crapo looked, at his slender hands as“ it ,

     

as“ .. A
‘ see, , ‘ , a war seci 
- “Vevaftiofnguh Lennox’s wife,  »
not with, any; other man. Ofcourse,
agree withmgsir  '  .‘
. ‘ 

In:
,; 7'.‘

4

All ve said shows father
you in idly widenan

 

conscious that'thelr whiteness arose from thd ;

 

     
  

 

  

'\

\' 'r-I‘

‘ " “Good-morning, \p

KT] -

14'

ll l

' Dangerous Dave.

 

"Enough! I perceive that you see the gulf
between you and Miss Grape, and the impossi-
bility of meeting her on equal terms. I thank
you for your company and courtesy, Mr. Vin-
cent. You can go now, sir!”

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
A SIGHT OF TERROR.

DURING all of this interview Mr. Crapo’s
manner had not shown a sign of severity. He
Was cold, but not aggressive.

Yet he had succeeded in telling Vincent, out-
side of words as well as with words, that the
marked friendship between himself and Veva
must end; and Vincentgknew perfectly Well that,
if he ignored the order, there would be trouble.

Crapo would not be so quiet again.

He regretted the crown episode very much,
simply because it was bound to make more or
less trouble for Veva,’and whatever troubled
her worried him. '

He grew angry with himself as he found his
thoughts wandering in this channel. What
were trivial” troubles compared with what he
would bring u on her?

“ Why did t Roland stay at home, to-day,
and thus prevent this encounter?” he thought
irritably as he entered his room and sat down.

If he had knewn why Roland did not “ stay at
home” he would have been startled. That per-
son had strong reasons for absenting himself.

He did not take his dogs on the occasion, but,
entering the southeast swamp, took a straight
course and hurried along for miles, heedless of
all ame that appeared by the way. ,

e reached his destination, at last, and, pans-
ing nt the edge of a clearing, stood looking on
the. Norcross Cottage. He saw something more
than the building. The captain and Nina were
standing near the door.

Roland’s face lighted up as he saw that Nor-
cross was about to go away.

“Good!” he commented. “ If Old Neptune
takes himself off out of the way 1 shall have
a clear field, and it’s dollars to pennies that I
impi’ove it. Zounds! I’ll make love to the
cottage beauty like a whirlwind! She has had
time to think it over since she snubbed me be-
fore, and she can’t fail to see that the master of
.Thornholm is a man to be desired l”

Uncenscious'of the mischief that was afoot,
Captain Ned bade his foster-daughter good-by,
wentto the river, entered his boat and pulled
away down the stream.

Nina stood by the door and watched him.

Once he paused and waved his hand cheer-
fully. Nina returned the farewell, and then
he steadily receded. She returned to the cot-

ta 0.
 fioland held the big sailor in due respect, in
i certain ways, and, impatient as he was, he
waited until the boat was out of sight before
moving further.
Then he walked forward boldly, and soon
appeared at the open door.
Nina saw him a once; more, the recognized
him, and a look, anno once and uneasiness
’ crossed her face. He li ted his hat with an
attempt in the line of grace and politeness.
issl” he said, agreeably.
"‘ Can 1 trouble you for a drink of water!"

As water was the one thing most abundant in
that vicinity, and the river was full to its blinks,
the request was not much less than absurd, but
Nina, with a monocyllabic reply, did as request-

" Pardon me, if I sit down and rest,” Roland
then added, and sat down without being encour-

agfid“ .

inn occupied herself With some light duty,
d gave him no attention.

 “ Beautiful day, missl’"
,“Yes, sir.” ‘
“ The sun is just warm enough.”

" Yes.” . a v

7 “ No climate like ours.”
.tt N0.” "

These brief replies were not calculated to

, Igladden the planter’s heart, but he kept it up

awhile longer. Then he began to press mat-
rs.
I “ I have not seen you! since the day we met in

‘ r the swamp.”

 

 

’ , . “ Inever saw

gyou

in N0?”
“ No. ’Do you often go there?”
‘I No l,

" Doh’t you like the woods?”
.6 NO.” '

Roland was angry but tried to remain cool.
“ The swamp is disc ecable,” he admitted.
iut onep casing thing in it. Can
ens what that was!" "
% “ am not good at guessing.”
‘.‘ It was yourself!" .
, " Sir?” '
' “Pardon me, for I mean no harm, and I only
State the simple truth. The fact is, it was a,

 ;eompleto and agreeable surprise when I chanced

upon you in t eswnmp‘. I had never before
seen or heard of on. I now a pretty girl when

.Iseaone—Iz do, yJovel-Aand. I saw one then. 50

Pardon me if I am frank, miss, but I hopere~
spectful admiration is not disagreeable.”

'- uttered, coldly.

 

3.

- was as pallid as that of a dead man.

 

"I do not covet admiration, sir,” Nina an?

     
 

“ But I hope you don’t blame me for what I
cannot help.” » "

“ It is not necessary for us to discuss the
point.”

“ But, my dear Miss Norcross—”

“ You know my name, it seems.”

“I’ve made inquiries.”

“ \Nhat right had you to do that?"

“ Because I’d engendered a deuced big admir-
ation for you, my dear young lady!”

Nina’s face flushed with indignation. She had

tried to discourage Roland with coldness, but his I

fixed intention to force matters to an unpleasant
crisis was very apparent. She deeply regretted
that Captain Norcross had gone away. True,
Maggie Warner was in the next room, but she
was in attendanCe upon the sick woman, and
any disturbance might not unfavorany upon the
latter. With the ex—wanderer and the nameless
Frenchman as patients, quiet ought to be main-
tained in the cottage.

Such being the case Nina felt the need of
managing Tliornliolm diplomatically, and get-
ting rid of him, but his lawless admiration was
so boldly expressed that she could not keep back
her anger.

“I will thank you, sir, to change your mode
of addressing me? she declared.

“ Bless me! why?”

“ I claim the respect which a gentleman should
show one of the Opposite sex.”

“ Haven’t you had it?”

“ No, sir!”

“Pardon me, but you have a World of it.
Respect! I do more than to respect you. Sure
lv, you do not blame me if I am deeply touched.
Blaine your charms, rather—”

“ You have said enough i”

“ But I don’t think I have made the case plain.
You think because I am a rich and pOWerful
man that we do not meet on equal footing. You
were never wider of the facts. I am not proud,
and I yield you the same homage I would bestow
upon a queen. A noble woman is the noblest
thing on earth, and I feel sure you are all of
that. From the first time I saw you I have
loved you—”

“ Enough, sir! I do not care to hear more.”

“ Biit'rlo you scorn my honest love?”

“ You feel none for me.” ’

“ I feel an ocean of it." ‘

“ Even if on do, I don’t want to hear of it!”

“ My darling, why are you so coquettish?” de-
manded Roland, whose hot blood could not brook
so much opposition, and whose lawless admira-
tion was running away with all prudence. “ By
Jove! things are come to a pretty pass if a man
can’t confess his love!"

“ No doubt you can-«to those who want to
hear it. I do not. More than that, I must ask
you to go away quietly. Your loud voice, for‘
certain reasons, is not desirable here. Pray,

'D

“ Not until I have my reward for all I’ve
done!” asserted the planter. “ I’ve tramped
several miles on purpose to see you; I don’t go
back empty-handed. If on feel that I am too
precipitate I’ll give you t me to think it over—”

“ I need no time!"

, “Always bearing in mind that you havea‘x

sincere worshiper in me. Think of it! I am
young, rich, and absolute master of one of the
finest estates in Virginia. wish to marry; I
love on! Is this nothing?”

“ gothing 1”

Nina spoke with reSolutiou. She did not fail
to see that he had carefully refraingd from say-
ing that he wished to marry her, and, if he had
done otherwise, it would have made he dimer-
ence. *-

She saw his low, evil nature, and remember-

ing the light in which he stood to her and her‘

loved ones, his presence aroused her deepest re-
pu nance and fear.
e. however, had lost all prudence.

“Zounds! even harsh words are sweet from
those red lips of yours. Your mouth is a load-
stone; it draws me to you; I crave a kiss, my
darling!” ~

Extendin his arms he advanced toward her,
but his w rfare came to a sudden end. He
heard a sound at one side and looked to discover
the cause.

,The wounded Frenchman had risen in his
fever, comb to the connecting door and now
stood bolt upright in the passage. 8 were a
night-dress which reached to his ankles“ a cloth
was bound around his forehead; and is face
Taken all
in all, be u as a ghostly-looking object, nothing
except his black hair and beard serving to break
the uniform white color he resented. His eyes
were vacant and expression ess, and fixed in his
ghastly face like balls of glass.

oland saw, and then he recalled.
is own face grew pallid.

He looked at t i ‘
of the utmost wnstcrnation.

‘ He seemed to be rooted to the spot with her-
ror. .

Slowly the unknowu raised one hand and
intod to the lanter. It was an idle, uncon~
scious gesture, f t the effect was startling.

Roland/uttered ’a or of terror;'he turned and
fled, from, the cottage u‘mad'haste.

Even Rheum?!”
s ., 4 - c .r 

   

    

e sick man with an appearance.

he did not panic. An open g

1 quiet.

v

 

     

window enabled Nina to see him further.
Straight toward the wood he went, running like
one pursued by a deadly enemy, and his pace
had not slackeued when he plunged into the
cover of the trees.

The sick man pressed one hand to his fore-
head and muttered several indistinguishable
words.

Maggie lVarner, alarmed by Roland‘s cry,
came out of Mrs. Crapo’s room. Not having
seen the planter’s strange and headlong flight,
she naturally ascribed the cry to the French—
man.

She was a woman of resolution, and she
promptly led the unknown back to his room and
ordered him to retire, all of which he did meek-
ly. Then she returned to Nina.

“ That fellow must be quiet, and not alarm
your mother,” she declared. “ I don’t wholly
like my mistress’s condition. She thinks too
much about those papers at Thornliolin, and it
may hurt her mind. What freak did our French-
man have when he yelled so?"

“ It was not he who cried out.”

“ W ho was it?”

“ Roland Thornholm l”

“ It was?” cried Maggie, with a start.

“Yes.”

“ And he has dared to come here!

B .
heavens! there is trouble ahead for us 1” y

 

. CHAPTER XIX.
rm: MAD-WOMAN cons TO THORNHOLM.

EVENING at Thornholin Lodge!

The mansion was lighted as usual; for the
hour was early, but the place was unusually
Veva and the second Ill Crapo had;
driven over to Royalston Hall to visit Berenice,
and Vincent was in his room.

Edward Crapo sat in his library, reading the
Life of Napoleon, when Roland entered. It
was his first appearance since morning. Where
he had been Edward did not know. but absence
on his part was not unusual. ,He could find
food as well as drink, at the Glenville hotel.

The student of Napoleon-gave his putative'son-
hardly a glance until the latter spoke.

“ Are you busy?” he asked, abruptly.

Edward glanced up, saw that Roland looked
pale and nervous. and grew curious. Hiding the

utter fact, he (alme answered:

H No.”

“ I’d like to ask your opinion on one subject.”

“ Proceed l”

“ I’ve had an argument with some of the fol-
lows, you see, and am not quite sure on one
point.”

“ Perhaps I can enlighten you.”

“ Do you believe in ghosts?”

There was anxiety—even eagerness—in the
question, and Crapo’s curiosity increased.

:‘ I Suppose, you refer to disembodied spirits?”

6

00

“ Well, I never saw one.”

“ Is there such a thing?”

“I’ve heard so.” ’

“ Do you believe it?”

“ As I said before, I’ve never seen one.”

“ My old nurse used to tell me of them; she
was quite sure that such things were facts, so to
s ’13” Others dispute it. W'hat is a follow to
t in '

Roland turned a wishful gaze upon his elder.
His eyes were red, but he was not intoxicated,
heavily as he had been drinking. -

” You are old enough to have had some expe-
rience yourself. Did you eyer see one?”

“To tell the truth, I think 1 have!” Roland
admitted. '

“ Pray describe the one.”

“ No!” the planter answered, with great em--
phasis. “ I have nothing to say on that head;
we must speak in a general way, or not at all.
Do you believe in ghosts?” ‘

Crapo studied his companion, closely for sev-
eral moments before he answered. '

“ No!” he then returned. “ Such a thing as a
ghost never walked in the nineteenth centu ;
the idea is absurd. The dead never come bark
The only ghosts that man ever so
images and imaginations of his
science.” _

Roland moved uneasily. .

“ Yet some folks say they have seen them.”

“ Nonsense! Drop the ideifi While there are
men and women so ignorant that they could not
exhibit a thimbleful of brains, there will be be—
lievers in ghosts; but all others will reJect the
possiliilit _‘ ’ ‘ . .

Rolandy squirmed a little more in his chair
changed color under his companion s gaze, and
then abruptly and nervously rose.

“ That’s the view _
some of the fellows would have it otherwise, in
our argument. I feel that I was right. Good-

i ht!” .
n ‘5‘ Wait! What’s our hurry z”
“ I’m going to be Good-night!”

'Rolan hastened out with an ah- like anything

1

also rather than that of a man who had had his ’

opiniOu confirmed in an argument.
lpoked after him curiously,
" What is afoot? The youngster is all demer-

Crapo

were the 
uilty con‘-‘- 

I take of the matter, but. , .

alized over something. Seen a ghost himself,

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,motion for a moment: then

Dangerous Dave.

 

has he? Humphl
been a pleasant companion.
What was it?”

It was no idle curiosity which moved the far-
seeing SCht‘lllUr, and, in his efforts to surmise the
cause of Roland’s (leillol‘fllll’lllon, he mechani~
Cally thrust his hand into his pocket.

Tth he arose abruptly.
that he had lest tlic key to his private room,

“7 ho was it?

and, as he never allomul any one tr» visit that .
sacred place except his eye, he became anxious ,

in regard to the key. He went in Search of it at
once.

The losing of the key was responsible fora.
new act in the drama that was absorbing Thorn~
holm in those days.

It had been dropped on a walk, back of the
house, when he removed another article from
his pocket and, also accidentally dragged out
the key. The circumstanco was noticed bya.
person who was observing him sccrctly.

Behind a tree stood a woman. She was far
from young; her hair was gray and disheveled;
her dress was ragged and wretched to an
extreme.

It was Crapo’sflrst wife, and the wild, cunning

expression of her face told that her mental

faculties Were again clouded. In some way she
had escaped from her attendants, rcsumed
her old garments, and was again the ragged,
wretched wanderer.

When Crapo was out of the way she pounced
upon the key. lts possession seemed to please
hergreatly, for she chuckled long and merrily,
if not musically. Then she suddenly stopped,
looked at the house, nodded several times, and
started in that direction.

A rear door was open. She entered quickly,
guilt her movements, though very cautious, were

0 .-

Her manner showed a strange mixture of

madneSs and method, but the former predom-

inated. It was betrayed in her wild, cunning
gianner, and in her reckless entrance to the
ouse. ’

She knew the way well. There had been no
great change since she had been mistress there,
and she Went quickly, silently from room to
room.

Luck favored her greatly. Not one of the
household was movin about;ull the negroes
were in another part 0 the mansion. -

She passed rapidly up the stairs. along the
hall, and to the door of Urapo’s room. This she
unlocked with the key so unexpectedly acquir-
ed. When the door opened, however, she saw
only darkness beyond. but, besides the hall-
lamp, 8 smaller one was burning on the table.

She took it and entered Crapo’s room, after-
ward locking herself in.

_ Her gaze became fixed upon his trunk. Ever
since she had suggested to Vincent that. if
Crapo had any papers of Value to them, they
probably would be found in that place, her mind

ad been on the possibility of ettin them.
This had led to her fresh outbrea , an to this
visit, so pregnant with the cunning of madness.

The trunk was locked. but she set thalamp
down and took an ordinary chisel out from
among her rugs.

’With this she attacked
’broke it away entirely.

The trunk was Open.

She began to _search the interior quickly.
There was reason in her movements, for, though
several papers were there, she flung them all

the lock, and soon

aside hurriedly until she came to a slender pack- ' Scarcely able to believe w at

age tied with it hit of tape.
This she opened, and looked at the first paper.
.- She broke in a fresh scrics of chuckles in she
saw that it was the false certificate of her own
death in Cuban .

She tied the string around the whole package
again, thrust it into the bosom of her dress; and
was ready to go. She quitted the room, relock-
ed the door. and flung the kcy down on the floor
Where it would be found readily.

Then she had a new meg,

At the f urther end of the hall was the-entrance
to the portrait-room. The method which was
in her madness led her to desire to see the faces i
of her ancestors, and she was aboutiogo that '
way when light footsteps were followed by the
appearance of Hector, the big Newfoundland
do . ‘. .

s Veva's favorite Hector had almost un-
limited privdeges, and
strange about hls‘ apps-cranes. but he seemed to
think the presence of the rugged wanderer yery
‘strango, indeed. -

He had discovered .

them was nothing!

looked down upon her.
She had thought of one, only.
There was the portrait of her father, Robert

5 Allan Thornholm, and she looked with rapt at- :

tentiou. Then she sunk upon her knees, clasped
her hands and continued the carncst look.

 

l sion. Hcr lips moved as if in prawr. There
was no coherent thought in her mind, and she
could not reflect upon the long years of madness
i and misery which had passed siimc she lost stood
I there before, but all was not darkness in her
afflicted mind.
i Hector turned his big brown eyes upon her.
I He was not capable of understanding the scene,
‘; but his singular interest in her was on the in-
’ crease.
, For a long time she was unconscious of all
f around her, but a sound caused her to turn, at
lasn. ,
Then she sprung to her feet.
1 She was. no longer alone in the room.
Edward Crapo stood before her.

CHAPTER XX.
TEE ATTEMPTED CRIME.

SEVERAL things, uppargitly trivial in them-
; selves, had just happened another part of the
: manswn.
j First, a chambermaid started to descend the
I stairs, and as her dress caught the key which
E the mad~womau had thrown down, the bit of
3 brass was ulled forward until, reaching the
i stairs, it fel to the hall below and fell with but
i litlle noise on the carpet.
i It was only a few moments later that Crapo
I came out of the library, to look for the missing
key. The light shone plainly upon it; he saw it
at once
1 A short time before he had stood in that very
v place, removed his hat and put himself in order,
4 generally, after coming into the house, and,
finding the key there, be naturally supposed
1 that be had then dropped it.
1 Thus, all suspicion was removed from his
mind by a very simple chance. -

“ That’s lucky,” he thought. “ Some one
might have found it, invaded my room, and got
at my trunk and papers. I don’t want any
ghosts of by one days cropping out. Ghosts!

forget: I’ll cave that species to Roland l”

A satirical smile curled his lips.

“ Ghosts never have troubled me; I never ex-
pect the will-though,‘to be sure, old Robert
Allan T ornholm must feel like stepping down
out of his gilded frame, in,order to level anathe-
mas at my head l”

This turn of affairs was productive of results.
‘, He had not seen Robert Allan Thornholm’s por-
l trait in many years. A sudden impulse moved
‘ him to go and look at it then.

No better time could be found; the house was
very quiet, and Veva and the second wife, at
least, were away. .1

He went to the upper hall, took the lamp and
went to the door of the portrait-room. He was
slightlysurprised to find the bolt slipped back,

' but it seemed to be a trivial matter.

He entered the room.

A great surprise awaited him.

The place was already lighted, and a. woman
was kneeling in front of Robert Allen Thorn-
‘ holm’s picture, apparent] an aged in prayer.
0 saw‘ he stared
until the wind caught the door and cIOSed it.
The sound caused the kneeling woman to spring
to her feet.

After a score of years husband and wife stood
face to face!

Crapo did not recognize her. Not once had it
ever occurred to him to doubt that she was
dead, after he received the certificate to that
,eflect, and in the gray-haired and ragged wan-
derer before him there was but little resem-
blance to the lost Rosalind.

“ What are you doing here?” he demanded,
roughly.

“ I have come to
plain. coherent re ly.

“ Better look in a. rag-bag.”

“ i know where to look.”

“And I, too, know your place.
5 prison—" ,

“ My place is here, Edward Crapol” the wan-

; dercr deflared. in a deep voice.

“ Perhaps you’vo been makin this room your

qum‘t‘l’rs. I’ve heard of a ma -wonian around

pee my'liindred,” was the

 

It isin

l
i

Woman and dug looked at each other without ,v’ here-o”.

_ Hector suddenly]
Vibrated histail and advanced to her side.

He had recogniZed a congenial nature.

The ,mad—wonmn was not backward with
friendly demonstrations. She bent and caressed‘

his shaggy bend, and Hector was at once cap-

tivated through that subtle influence which his
species 1‘ nine so readily.

The wan erer paused onlya few moments;
she did forget her remaining work. ,
tuning. clamp. she went to the entrance to
the portrait-room. Slidin the rusty bolt with 3
some trouble, she ante Hector followed;
she recloaed the door. ‘

She was'aniong the pictures of her ancestors.

l
The light fell strongly upon her face. and her
. . ILA“ ‘ ‘ V .

“ Who drove me mad?”

“How should I know?”

“ \Vho was it, but you?”

,“ Come! on are crazy i”

3 Edgar Crapo, don’t you know me!”

0.

“ Look again! Look, and study well my face!
The marks of time are there, for the lapse bf
twenty years is a journey longer than from Cuba
to here, but some Sign must he left; some evi-
dence of Thombolm blood. Look l” '\

She flung hack the tangled hair from her f cc,
and her voice rung out clearly and deflan y—
more than that, with a very familiar sound.

\_

   
 

l
I
l
l

l

Much of the wildness faded from her cxprcs- .

 
  
 

 

him. He recoiled a little, and his color changed.

“ You are~—-”

“ HOSalind Thornholm Crapo——-once your
wife! ’

The truth came to him like a flash. Proof
was tlwre in more ways than our: tlic voice, the
eyes vrcrt,~ Rosalind'sflyes, despite the lmvoc of
time, the form, the face and the cvi-ry move-
ment Were hcrs. It was not a moment in which
to speculate upon contrary evidence: he simply
saw what was before him and behind.

His. wife had come back from the grave!

TL‘l'l‘ll)lC fact! His icy composure fled lmiorc
it. His strong face “as ashcn, and beam d with
perspiration. Through his mind swcpta real-
ization of the position he and the new Occupants
of Thornliolm would be placed in, if the terrible
fact was known that his first wife was alive.

His emotion had its effect upon the wan—
dcrer, but not of a favorable kind. The wild
light leaped back into her eyes, and she beat her
bOsom in a frenzied way.

“Yes, I am Rosalind Thoml'olm!” she ex—
claimed, “ and I am come for vengeance! You
thought to bury me in Cuba, but I am alive to
dumfoniid you—alive to Condcmn and ruin you.
Coward! traitor! bigamistl the whole world
shall soon know your sins!” '

Crapo was too much overcometoo think clear-
ly, but one idea was strong in his mind. If he
could sz'lencv the woman where she was, her
story would never be told. Plainly, she was
breakingr away from the fetters of madness;a
day’s delay might be fatal.

A light leaped into his own eyes wilder.
fiercer than that in hers.

“Mulediction size you i” he hissed, “you
shall never tell the story in this world i”

And he sprung forward with hands extended
to grasp her throat. .

Before that murderous attack she would have
been helpless, but she had a friend upon which
she had not counted. Hector, never a friend
of Crapo’s since the latter had given him the
first of many kicks, had been watching sus-
pit-iously.

The noble animal now sprung between the
would-be assassin and his victim, and the for-
mer barely avoided a fall.

Mnttering a curse he tried it again, while
the wanderer, greatly alarmed. looked in vain
for a way of escape, but, this time, Hector
did more than to confront him; he sprung
upon the man, and the weight of his body
bore Crapo to the floor. .

As he went down his head struck against the
old cabinet, and he was half stunned, but he re-
tained his senses sufficiently to see his wronged
wife flee from the room, fol owed by the dog.

Making a great effort, be regained his feet.
His head swam dizzily, but he overcame it as
soon as possible. Pursuit must be made at once,
or all was lost. .

He hastened out of the old room.

.

.. As chance would ‘have it, woman and dog had-

left the house unseeii by an one. and, too, only
one person except Crapo ad heard the least
soun from them. Vincent, sitting in his room,
had noticed what seemed to be a slight Me,
and then a 'ar, but had ascribed all to the pity-
fulness of t e ncgroes.

hasten mi; of the house, into the grounds.
There, the darkness, the trees and the shrub-
bery were against him, but, after going a few
rods, he happened upon Roland.

The latter, too nervous to keep his
was wandering around in an ugly mood, a

room
Dd ,

His ghost could not have 1 Face after face, and generation after generation, eyes had a familiar appearance which startled

The :ipcn doors gave Crapo the claw, and he ’1. '

would have passed without a word: but Crapo ’

accosted him.
“ Have you seen any one here?” Edward de-
mended.

“I can’t see in the dark!” was the surly 

reply.
‘ Fool! has any one
Lou may pay dearly for it in your loved dol-
rs! '

“ A woman and a dog rushed by like mad," 
“ The dog looked"  ‘ '~
“ I

Roland condescendcd to say.
like Hector—”

“ How long ago?"

“ About two minutes.”

“ Which way?"

“waard the southeast; bht, mounds! you,

need not pursue. They‘re a mile off before now,

and the night is dark as Halifax. You’ll have

to give it up.”

There was common sense in this assertion, a: 

Cra plainly saw. He stood still. a

" ave you met the enemyi”Rolsnd asked, «

curiously.
(‘ Ya.”
" Good!
8‘10“. DOW.” was the unguarded observation. V

Crnpo caught his companion fiercely by the.

“ You must help me run that woman d
“Not much. She isn’t my enemy.” ‘
“You talk ‘As the fool talks; she is
enemy; far more yours than mine.
value mgr future pear-e. join me in this!”
“ ha do you mean?” '
“ She threatened us both." ' / 
“How?” . . I z ' v-_,
“ She is agent for a man who is our enemy,

i

‘

 
  

    

l
Perhaps you won't sneer at my"

own!”

yoiw.‘

d you? Answer, on 

v

. ,7. Imam,“ .1

     
  

 



 

.I."

 

Dangerous Dave.

 

   
 
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
  
    
  
   
    
  
  
  
    
    
    
   
    
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
    
   
     
   
   
    
   
  
   
  
   
     
 
 
  
   
   
   
  
    
    
   
  
  
  

though not a reasonable one. She is mad, but
she knows his business and ours. She Is dan—
gerous; she must he hunted dmvn. See?"

“ No, I don’t. 'Who is the man in the case!”

“Never mind. The affair goes far back of
your years of discretion; I can tell you nothing,
butwyour whole future depends upon helping
me:

“ I think you are humhugging me, but. as for
the woman-hunt, you don’t need to urge me.

That will be a. new and stirring sport. Count
me in I ’
“Good! Will you have your best hound

', ready at the first glimmer of day, in the morn-
‘ ing?’

“ Yes.”

“Enough! Good-night?7

He hastened away toward the house, leaving
Roland looking after him in Wonder.

“What the dickens is up? I have found a
weak spot in my marble father’s armor. He
Scoifed at my ghost, but he has seen a living

‘ enemy, and it has diapellcd the ice in his nature
in the twinkling of an (we. \Vho can this no-

.‘ man have been? I don‘t believe the yarn that
she menaces mo,- hut l’ll help the old man. Go
on a woman-hunt? Why, to be sure. It’ll be
great sport!”

 

Cl-TAP “ER XXI.

. CRAPO IIUNTS HUMAN GAME.

NOMING else could havo amazed Edward
Crapo so much as the reappearance of his wife.
He had supposed for a scoreof years that she
was sleeping under the soil of Cuba, and a less
practical man might haVe doubted even then.

He, however, did not waver.

Des ito the natural, and unnatural, marks of
time, a had recognized the voice and looks of
the unfortunate Rosalind, and her own words
had removed all chance for hesitation. ‘

Of course his mention of a mysterious man, to
Roland, was only a concoction of his fertile
mind,aud, though not made with the skill of
his calmer moments, was designed to throw the
younger man off the scent.

Crapo himself thought only of the woman.

Had the grave opened to send forth this per-
son, or where had she been all those years since
he rd‘eived from Cuba the certificate of her
death? ‘ .

Hit! the certificate! He had always re-
served it——might it not be useful now? ew
, eyes were as keen as his; few persons could
, recognize in the wretched mad—woman, the once
 .beautiful Rosalind. If she appeared to press

* her claims, could he not defeat her by means of
the Certificate?

‘ Anxious to look upon the paper, he hastened
to his private room, struck alight and turned to
the trunk. One step he took, and then paused.

' The trunk had been opened; a part of its
r dormer contents was scattered on the floor.
, - “ Who has dared?” he thought, as he flashed

i, curling?! glance around the room. ‘

‘ t no tenant but himself.

' Then he noticed that the look had been torn
gaway hastily, and an alarming suspicion crossed
 his mind. He knelt by the trunk. and began a
I "nervous examination of the pore therein.
When it was done he paused an stared blankly
at the wall.
 “It was her work!” he muttered. “She is
, not as mad as she seemed; she had sense enough
 ,to come here, rifle my trunk and take away that
a paper. The certiflCate is in her hands! How,

‘..now, can I prove that she was thought to have
died in Cuba?” l

The icy composure of his face was gone: he
showed now as a man of human fears and pas-
sions. The expression on his, face was dark,
and ominous. , I
 “Enough!” he finally added; “it is but the"

\

501111811 of the pen after the signing of her
death-warrant. To-morrow morning t
trail, and the bloodhounds will run her down
easily. Then—”

--*A significant pause ended the sentence, but
_ ,was good reason why the mad-woman
should stand in dread of the events about to fol-
w. -

'- ,Crapo halt-regretted that he had not followed
her «in the darkness, hopeless as the chase
accrued: but he had Conflzlence in the morning
hunt-he had ‘ seen bloodhound: on the trail 'be-
fore then. ,

Shortly after. Veva‘ and the second Mrs.
0:36 returned from their visit to Royalaton
H . Edward never put himself out to see any
the hungehold, and did not go near them.
 " was nothing to show them that such
tirring events hadpccurred during their ab-
aance,“ ~and he certainly was'not inclined to tell
- cm.

The remainder of the night passed peacefully.
. Grape/was earl astir, and, on gong out of
weahouce, foun Roland on hand with, his
favorite hound. ' V

 had not yet dawned, but the darkness
we: wlyreceding.‘

"fit the dog to work!” Grape directed.
 hound was duly shown what was expected
“him and he found no trouble in taking the
trail. it led away directly toward the south-

' ahdthechaccwu n.='.. 
mayoucarrycgun, Roland red. ‘

 
 

 
 
 
 

 

   

  
 
 

 
 

  

   

 
  
 

ake hcr '

brush 1 ishnzcej », , niche, flul
 1h" 

    

 

“ So do you, don’t you ?” ,

“ Yes; but you are not noted as a. hunter.”

“ I am on a hunt to—dayl” was the cool reply.

“ What’s the order? Do we shout, or not?”

“ Would you shoot at a woman?” Crapo
asked. looking sharply at his companion.

“ If she was my enemy, I might."

“ This woman is vourenemy." -

“I think I understand.” -

Roland did understand, but intended to let
Crapo manage his own case. UnleSs convinced
that she was dangerous to him, he was not
going to commit any such deed as that hinted at.

Putative father and son were playing what
was intended for deep games. Crapo had deter-
mined to make Roland party to the crime; Ro-
land, with his curiosity all aroused, was anxious
to worm his way into the elder man’s secrets so
as to force the latter to confide in him.

The open land was successfully crossed, and
when they reached the swamp day had fully
dawned.

Thus far the hound had not hesitated for a
mom'ent, and he entered the woods with the
same confidence. For nearly a mile all went
well; then the rapid campaign came to asudden
stop. They reached a broad stream of water,
and the dog paused at the bank. Then he ran
up and down, seeking to recover the trail.

“ We are outwitted l" Crapo exclaimed.

“ Not much!" Roland declared. “ I’ll back
that bound to get any scent on earth!”

He did not boast without good cause, but the
result was not favorable. The dog searched
both banks; he ran up and down, with his nose
to the ground, for a long distance, but at the end
of half an hour it was plain that he was wholly
at fault.

“ Talk about the woman being mad 1” Roland
an rily exclaimed. “ Why, she’s as sane as you
or am. She has taken to the water to‘ break
the trail, and waded a long distance.”

“ If she did it, it was instinct, not reason.”

“ She’s done it, anyhow.”

“Then she must have gone straight on into
the heart of the swamp. Come! let’s go least
ourselves, and we will find her yet. Let the dog
keep up hiu search for the scent",

This was done in a manner as systematic as
possible.

Edward Cra’po was busy with his thoughts.
What was to he done With the mad-woman
when they found her? Darkly as he had talked,
it was not his intention to sln y her in cold blend,
though he would welcome any excuse by which
he could do it. His idea was to seize her and
shut her up somewhere.

He was trying to think how and where this
could be done.

Moving on into the heart of the swamp, they
came suddenly on two men. Roland recognized _
Drake Hodge and Black Tuck, and would not
have been surprised to see them try hostilities
upon him, but Crapo called to them at once.

The outlaws were wary, but finally consented
to hold an interview.

“ Havo you seen any one around here?” Crapo
asked, abruptly. /

“ Nobody, yer honor,” Hedge unawered, with
sci-vile pohteness. "

“ No wandering woman in rags, eh?”

f‘ A wanderin’ woman in rags?”

H 1'65. l? ‘ ~

‘.‘ We ain’t seen her tor-day, but we know whar
her but is, yer honor.”

“ You do? Where is it?” i

“‘ 0n the Black Acre."

“ Humphl A bad place to reach.”

“ We kin go thar, yer horror,” declared Hodge,
eagerly.

T ‘ kYes, sah; yes, yer honorJ’ added Black
uc . ,
Crnpo meditated. He knew of the mire-bed

and quickmnd at the base of Black Acre knoll,
though he had' never been there; and knew, too,
that the death—trap haul swallowed up more than
one man. There seemed little risk in taking.
such knaves as Hodge and Tuck intohis confi-
dence, and he decided to let them risk their
lives. ‘

He questioned them about weir knowled re of
the but, and they, looking co ertly at Roland,
told as much as they saw fit.

They were‘ romptly engaged, Crapo having
decided that he mad-woman undoubtedly had,
gone to her resort on the knoll.

The new recruits led the way, and Roland
brought a the rear. It was an odd chance
which me e them his temporaryvallies, but crime
brings extremes together. ' '

The Black Acre was finally reached. It did
not leak so had to Crapo as it was reputed to he,
and he was half inclined to follow the outlaws

actors, but Roland. knowin more of the lace,
kept him back. Hodge on Tuck-croij and
were none several minutes. Finally, the reap-

peared on the farther side. 
“ Nobody ain’t hyar," Hodge announced.
2" Are you sure?" ‘1; r
“ Yes; the but is empty, an’ nobody ain’t no-
whar else around.” » ‘ ' , ,
“She, may be hiding.”
‘ " 8 j ‘ ain’t.

This a n’t'mo chance, Under-s
dn’t climb a "t wo—foot

 
 
 

 
 
 
  

‘ path. She smiled bright y.

 

Weld IV’QI'JN

 
 

“What is to be done, now?” Crapo asked,
turning to Roland.

“Either give it up, or hunt hap-hazard.”

“We won’t giVe it up.’ .

Hodge and Tuck started back with due cau-
tion, but luck was not with them. The former
made a misstep, slipped from a log, caught hold
of the negro, and, a moment later, both were
floundering in the mud. _

The yells that immediately rose would have
done credit toa tribe of Indians. The outlaws
knew the power of the mire-becl’s death-clutch,

and they felt themselves being pulled down by ‘

{she adhesive mixture. Their terror was bound—
935,

They shrieked for help in chorus, clinging to
the logs, but only succeeding in pulling the lat—
tor down with them. Unaided, a man might as
well try to lift the State of Virginia bodil y as to
escape from that. death-pit.

Since the previous adventure thorn, in which
Walter Vincent took part, some one had cut a
long, stout pole, With a fork at one end, and left
it near the danger-line. Crapo now saw the
pole and flung out one bad. Hodge seized it

eagerly.

“Pull!” Edward ordered, addressing Roland.

“Are you sure it’s wise?” '

“ What do you mean?” ,

“The world would be better off, if rid of
them.”

“ Help! help!” yelled Hodge, in terror.
“Don’t you see we are sinkin’? Pull us out
while yer can!”

“ Pull me out!” chattered Black Tuck. “ Pull
me first, an’ den I’ll help him 1”

Roland still hesitated, and the outlaws’ dis-
tress grew greater and greater. They shrieked
wildly, and shook the jelly-like mud in frantic
efforts to extricate themselves.

“The fellows maybe useful to us both,"ob-
served Crapo. “ Lend your aid—we must save
them!” I

The planter took hold reluctantly, and their
combined effoits finally landed Hodge on firm
ground. Bloc Tuck was fast sinking, and
his eyes, enlarged by terror, looked like white
saucers in the black area of mud. He was
whimpering like a chastised child, and unable to
use his voice above a whisper.

His turd at the pole came,-but it was not so
easy to save him. He had gone Well down, and
the mud clung to him tena‘ciously. ' "

It was plain to see that, unaided, no man
could get out alive when once in the grasp of'the
mire. '

rallied, gave his aid, 'and, after a desperate
struggle, the negro was also landed. He and
Hodge were monuments of mud.

 

oHAPTEa XXII.
THE DETECTIVE ACTS RASHLY.

LITTLE suspecting what events had occurred
and were still occurring, Walter Vincent left
the mansion, after breakfast, and walked dawn
one of the many paths in search of solitude.

He was unconscious that he thus came under
She-notice of Veva, who stood at an upper Mn-

Owc I

There a times when all persons yield to reck-
less impul s; Vevayielded then. _ r

“ I will go for a walk, too,” . she decided.-

“Mr. Vincent has become as 5! _ -d as an ice- » 

berg, lately, and I am goin jto' now the tea-
son. Ho has not been him] since that unfor-
tunate crown-of-leavee aflair,_ and I suspect
Ellat”8(,)meb0dy has been talking nonsense to

im! ,

Hastin donning a, rustic hat, she left the
house, took another path, and. walked away at
speed calculated to eclipse and intercept his
m0vement8. . ~

As a result, just as the secretary was'moving 1

along with bent head and thoughtful face, he
was suddenly arousal h sight of chain his
“ We meet again, after many days. Welcome
“tomy. kingdom l” I -
sue extended her band, and Vincent could d
no less than to take it. He had resolved...

avoid the girl, but fate was clearly against with, .

The clasp of his hand; however. was no“ 'Wd’v‘
lifeless. and she could not fail. to What
marked reluhtimce was back of‘itn .iiermile
fades. and she lookegd at biénnikggnlxifid‘ h“
80m or face wasmrn pan” 1:, , .

“ Pardon me, Mr. Vincent!“ “5 Crflpo,
  H I    0&0er nly

hand had I knowu the schema ,baVe been no,

disagreeable to you.” , . I .

Unhappy Vincent tunicdqmckly. All his good ,1
resolutionsitaded before the reproor. , ,.

“ Disagreenhlel” he echoed. “ Pardon wmg,
Mics Crepe. but you wrong me. If yen knew
in what high esteem]: hold you; bowninoerely

I—I regard, yom'a'nd how much I value your 1

friendsbi you would not imagine such a thing.

I trust 0 will clear your mind of every dent)  =
and’ aa’prpof of my sincerity, page, my 

at in". -  a . , i .

‘ rgeainning with confusion of mu 119'th
finished with: manly frankness, and-Von  re.
Somme was driven away.   ‘

“we .:-~‘r-»...¥-J"W~m a, W w

A sharp kick aroused the panting Hodg’a' He  p .

   
   
 
     

        
      
  
   

 

   

 

  

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‘ ‘ 511M? ,m'c,‘ after this! I’ll quarrel with every
~ I:  , , ‘,on§;‘wofry ev ry one, misuse every alibi”

 slowly.
‘ ,d’or me after the episode of the crown of leav ,

   
 

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Their hands met again. but, this time, it was
she who soon relinquished the hold.

“ Do you know," she asked, abruptly, “ that I
came here to sec you?”

“ No.” ln‘ answered, gravely.

, “ 1 saw you leave the house, and I followed
at once.‘7

He changed his position uneasily.

“ Did you wish to ( onsull me!” he asked.

“ Yes. I wish to link why you have changed
so suddenly, and why you so persistently avoid
me.”

' She spoke plainly, and her expression indi-
cated that she. was determined to have a (iii-pct
answer. Vincent felt himself getting (looped-
and deeper into trouble. Knowing secrets of

. which she did not dream he was trying to crush
out his hopcless love for her, but she seemed
resolvud to make the burden heavier to bear.

“ i will Confess,’Mias Crapo,” he responded,
gravely, “that I have avoidcd you of late, but
it has not been because I wished to. It was for
your sake.”

. “ For my sake?”

“ Yes, Miss propo.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ It is due your position—3’

“ What is my position?"

“ My attention has been called by a mutual
acquaintance to the fact that there is a wide
gulf between us, socially. I am a poor man,
working for my daily bread at low salary. I
say low, not because it is smaller than I deserve,
but because it is the reward of a laboring man—
of a man who may yet be engaged in using a
spade for a living. Such am I, while you are of
noble blood, an heiress. and a member of the
hi heat society.

9 had drawn attention to his poverty with
unsparing words, hoping to jar her nerves, but
she smiled when he had finished.

“ I, an heiress? I, of noble blood? Perhaps

~you will say from what family comes my noble

lood; to what fortune I am heiress!”

“ At least, you have been reared in aristocra-
tic society, while I was catching fish out of the
salt water." ’

“ And this grades our ranks in life?” .

“ Most certainly. It—” ,

“ Plainly, some one has been talking very
forcibly to you. Perhaps I am not maidenly to
urge the point. but I cannot, will not and under
false colors. I am not the lofty creature you
would make me out.”

“ But you must see a ditYerence-”

’ “ Who is this person who has talked absurdi-
ties to you? You hesitate; let me surmise. Was
it Mr. Grape?”

“ I have had a frank talk with Mr. Crapo—”

_ Vincent was beginning cautiously, but Veva
Interrupted him impetuousl y:

“ And now you Will not talk frankly with
me! Mr. Vincent, I am tired of this couversa~
tion; you 8 salt like one without a mind of his‘
own. At t is rate I shall soon be angry, and
wish you would‘go away where I shall never see
you again!” ,

Miss Crapo was angry already. Her checks
were flushed, and her eyes sparkled ominously.

Vincent was miserable. His better judg-
ment told him that, in view of what the future
must bring to them both, it would be the part
of wisdom and humanity to make Veva serious-
ly offended at that juncture, harsh as it seemed,
but his love pressed prudencei aside, and he
thought only of making peace with her. I

“ 1' will be frank, Miss Crapo," he replied,
“ I unknowlwlge that your father sent

a

_ and kindly reminded me of the difference in ur
.“worldly positions. My judgment agreed with
his, and promised to-io remember I was your
brother’s secretary.” .
“ In plainer words, to avoid me?”
.“ Plainly, yesl” '

' A ain the color deepen in her face.
. “” robably, you were g to make the prom-
ise.

. " Has my manner ever indicated it?”
W “ Your manner has been much like a weather-
vane.”

“ believe me, my motives have been of the

best.
in No doubt it was very noble In you to give
the pledge, but you mi ht rid it of false pm
tenses. I am neither a homholm nor an hair,
7’

* -. , .: “ But your social position—”
I;

1“ Is nonsense!” '

recognize your generbus' natuan
3‘1“: am not generous, and don’t want to he
lied”. More than that, I’ll make everybody

ssCrapb ad plucked a rose from a bush

.. » - near it hand, and was mercilessly tearing it to
. . ’ l \

Yb." m’ not angry With me?" re-
. litmus; lessl y.
can ..
‘ ‘yifurself for me.” you I
._ aura martyr‘onl when Stay away
 you l” facial-ed the sébmtary, recklessly.
‘ , ndeed’ /
." " . lesthon otm life have been
nrmll'pciety  , y

to make a martyr

 

cha .iid not answer or look away from the
rum-ad lose, w hich seemed to demand hcr closest
aLtUlltlull.

“ if I have erred,” Vincent went on, “it
has her-n from a mistaken sense of duty. Your
friendship is of far more value than anything
(llw'u zit Thornholm. I offer my sinccrc apolo-
pies, and beg to be reinstated in your i'aV‘or and
your friendship.”

Having recklessly decided to make the stop he
made it boldly. Concluding his apology, he
stood before her with uncovered head and grave
attention.

“i’m not sure you deserve to be forgiven,”
asserted Miss Urnpo, solemnly.

“ Nor I. But I am just as anxious.”

“ If i knew your repentaan was sincere—”

“ it is.” -

“ And that you would not offend again—”

” I hope I shall not.”

“ Then I might forgive you 1”

She flung away the wreck of the rose, smiled
in her old, bright way, and held out her hand.

That time Vincent did not hesitate to take it.
He knew that he had acted in a way unjust
both to himself and to her, but 'her reproaches
had put all of his prudence aside.

“We will not speak of this absurd matter
again,” observed Vevu, as she withdrew her
hand.

They did not, on that day, and the half-
hour which followed was much like those they
had passed in former days. The secretary
yielded to the charm of her prcsence, and, ignor-
ing the secrets of the house of Thornholm, was
happy; while she was gay and grave, by turns,
in the inimitable way peculiarly her own.

W'hen she excused herself and returned to the
house, however, a look of gloom and bitterness
settled upon his face.

“More misery l” he” muttered. “I love her!
What word in human language will apply to
such a wretch as I? _ Why did I not widen the
breach between us? It would have been easy,
but I yielded weakly to my impulses, and am
deeper than everin the wretched mess. B -and-
by shall come with my story to blig t her
If I could suffer for both, I
ut the
ow she

whole after life.
would laugh at misery, but I must
world’s darkest curse upon her life.
will hate me, then 1”

He flung himself upon a bench, and thought
how he had changed from the cool, bold defect-
ive that men had called “ Dangerous Dave.”

He brooded over his troubles until a strong
footstep announced the arrival of a second per-
son. ‘

._-‘—

CHAPTER XXIII.
HAUNTING SHADOWS or CRIME.

VINCENT looked up and saw Captain Here-
ford. The hero of Cerro Gordo was not looking
well. He had lost flesh, and the detective
groigfully suspected that he had taken to

no .

The new-comer bore a gun upon his shoulder,
but was not incumbered with any game.

“Hallo, Vincent!" be greeted, in a friendly
way. ” You are neck-deep in thought.”

‘ ' was nearly aslee ."

“ Was that alll- You look like a condemned
murderer viewing the gallows in imagination.
Never mind, though; I think I’ll sit d0wn and
rest. Is that precious Thornholm at home?”

“ I am told that he went ofl.’ on a hunt, but
you may now find him at home."

"i shall not look. Lord Roland and I don’t
admire each other—at least, I don’t admire

mi. ‘

“Unlike Miss Royalston.” added Vincent,
maliciously.

“ I canft speak'for her.” .

‘Vlncent had paid back the captain’s fling at
his melancholy, and the later proceed d to re-
lapse. into the same condition, at once. he de~
tective waited a few moments, and then con-
tinned:

“ Did you find game plentiful?”

“ I have not been hunting.”
‘t Yet, you carry a gun.”

Hereford aroused. 

“ So  do, by Jove! You have the laugh on
me. Vincent, you seem to be a good fellow, and
I am impelled to confide in you. I haven’t been
mySeIf, of late, and by these so-callcd hunts,
during whi- I never seen any game, and by
reckless riding, I try to banish thoughtf‘»

“ You should tee a physician."

“Coming from you, the advice is absurd.
Didn’t you read my secret at Royalswn?” ‘

“ I think I did.” ‘ _

“ Exactly. You may think me a weak fool.
~buc we can’t over-ride facts with philosophy;
the facts will remain when words of reason die
out. I hate myself, but I am in wretched
mood l” _ ?

“Have courage. I am inclined to believe
that your suit for Miss Royalston‘s hand is far
from hopeless. There is no real bond of sym-
pathy between her and Roland,‘and the future
maysee them drift apart.” .

. " Hlave they quarreledi” Hereford med,
ea er y. - .

‘Not yet,"but I feel sure-they will'nevor
marry.”  ~ . 4- v.

l

I .

 

 

.Berenice Royalston forever

. It the latter, the supernatural-tales”. I It

   
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
 
   
  
   
  
 
    
    
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
 
  
  
  
  
    
    
 
     
  
   
  
    
  
  
   
  
  
   
  

“ What reason have you for the belief?”

“ Various matters which have come under my
notice. You must can-use inc fl‘llll in mg
explicit, for the secret is not mine to tell; but I
believe another month will see the engagement
brukcn.”

The soldier’s face had grown for brighter.

“ Vincent, you are a man too sensible to mis-
take a tundra-hill for for a mountain, and I feel
sure you would not play with my feelings.”

“I am wholly sincere."

“Thcngive me your hand! You have cast
out a rope to a drowning man, and I won’t for-
get it in youl”

Hereford heartily shook the hand extended to
meet his own, and then added:

“ Don’t think me weak, if you can help it. If
I were to tell you all about this wretcth afl‘air
—as far as I know it—-you would not wonder at
my dejection. You are fortunate not to be at-
tached to any woman !”

He spoke with the usual wisdom of the world,
and as usual, too, fell far short of the facts.

Vincent’s face clouded. He was “ attached to
a woman,” and he believed that his own misfor-
tunes completely dwarfed his companion’s. He
must blast the future happiness of the woman he
loved.

His nature, however, was wholly unlike the
captain's, and under no circumstances would he
have thought of confiding in a third party.

“ If you could give me any clew,” began
Hereford, after a pause, but be was inter-
ruptcd.

“i cannot: and, sir. if you hope ever to win
the battle, you will keep all I have said a dead
secret.”

“ Most emphatically I will.”

“Don’t seek to help your cause. Rest easy,
and let the boat drift; that is your one hope.
rash word from you would ruin all, and put
beyond your
reach l”

The defective spoke with emphasis, but he had
to deal with a sensible man.

“I have tried my hand and failed; I shall not
try further. I have faith in your judgment,
and will wait in tomb—like silenCe for the turn
of the tide you have promised. Rest easy on .
that score!” -

Vincent found Hereford as agreeable a com-
panion as usual, and several minutes passed in
conversation on other subjects, but the soldier
did not delay after he was rested.

He had crossed Thorn holm plantation because
it was his shortest route, but he did not rush to '
see Roland.

After his departure, Vincent returned to the
mansion.

He was just in time to see Grape and Rolaitd
return from their “ hunt.”

That they had followed the human game to
the extent of their abilit was shown by the
muddy condition of themse ves and the bound, '
but their weary, angry air told just as plainlybf ‘ “
com lets failure. ' -

E ward Crapo went to his room at once, eve "
movement bein made viciously. After a
these years of id e luxury, he saw himself men‘
seed with downfall. disgrace and worse. .
desertion of his legal wife, and the putting of
another in her place, were things not to be for-
given if she ever got her ri .hts. _

Once or twice the imperi ed plotter wondered ,
what had become of the real heir of Thornholm, '
but the chances of his having escaped the fever
when the mother was sup d to have died
were so few, that he linger only briefly on the
subject. ,I 

The idea that a daughter might.have  _
born on that tropic island, and have survival, __1 ,
ne'wler occurred to him as among the things pos-  F ’
sx ') e. . :'

He wondered vaguely if his deceit in ard
to Roland was sure to be discovered. I the
deserted wif had left the Cuban hospital in
her right mind she must have known what 115 .-
came of her son, then, but it was by no means .
certain that she had .ft in that condition.

He would have f it greatly' relieved had he '
known the truth—that she ad risen from the
hospital-bed in do irium, wandered away, and,
it was then supposed, been drowned in the”
ocean. 

Where she reall did go, and where she had" ,
wandered during t e interval of twenty years,
no one but the Omnipotent could ever know. - .

It was a very silent party at the ta’bm‘
Cmpo was wrapped in icy reserve; Rom 
thoughtful and sullen: Veva, as uiet as the",
others; while the reigning Mrs. mp0. ‘ssei ".-
her husband’s .mood, wasted no words._but M .
visions of the future, in which her hum.
played an important part, in the library, with 3' .
certain book in his hand. ~ ' . r  ‘ 5

Soon after, Roland ordered his horse and . ._
l0ped away toward Boyslston;-Hall.- His :3)
was seriously perturbed, and he sought hich!-
trothed as the remedy. , ’ . ;.

Since he “grams sicrléedman at (She Ngercrcum.-
mmge peace. see no. nos,
seen a man who actually resembled the that»,
he had beheld at the cottage and taken

specter. ‘
Bad the shape been that man, or his 

 

 

“I.
i.

A,

w H .-  .

W‘s-v3.»

      

Dangerous Dave.

 

 

old by the negrocs might be true; if the former,
he was nienaced by danger eVen more serious.

During the forenoon hunt, and after Hodge
and Tuck had been extricated from the mud,
his course had taken him near Captain Nor-
cross‘s home. He resolved to view it again.
Approaching stealtliily, he gained good pesition
and looked.

All was quiet and peaceful.

A little later, however, the old sailor came
out w ith a bound in tow, which he controlled
with a rope, and seemed trying to make him take
a. scent.

Really, this meant an effort to find the mad-
woniau. With the recurrence of her malady
she had risen, gone out unseen and fled; and
they were trying to find her without alarming
Vincent.

Having no inkling of this fact, however, R0-
]and grew frightened and hastened away. '

He saw no more of the old captain, but his
mind dwelt persistently upon the shape-man or
specter—he had seen at the cottage, and peace
had deserted him.

Feeling himself in danger, he tried to form
plans for protection. He knew he must learn
what the thing at the cottage was. If it proved
tobe ii phantom, perhaps it would haunt him
forever; if a living man, he must die in the
house which sheltered him.

And such was the lovinr who was seeking
Berenice Royalston’s presence! '

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE nrrsonn or run NOTE.

BERENICE received the master of Thornholm
kindly and graciously. Greater affection than
that she had never shown for him, and he was
satisfied.

He had never given her credit for great depth
of feeling, and did not wish that she should
have it.

In her company he soon forgot his haunting
trouble, and won (1 have been happy had not his
own limited powers of expression once or twice
recalled the fact that his attempt to add to his
education under Vincent’s tuition had become a

“farce through his own aversion to study. and.
rsistent avoidance of the work he had set for
imself.

For an hour convarsation continued briskly;
then Roland spoke of a matter which had been
on his mind all the time.

“ By the way,” he began, “ isn’t it about time
to announce the date of our marriage publicly l"

A shadow flitted across her face.

- “ Who is so anxious to know?” she asked,
mile“ ° h ibl N
v 0 one. per ups; every one, poss y. 0-
body has uestioned me, but, of course, our
friends wou d like duo notice.”

“ Three months’ notice should be sufficient.”

Roland’s face clouded.

“ Three months! That would bring it well
into the fall, counting from now.”

“ Let us count from October,” Berenice re-

 turned, smiling. “I cannot ibl at read
' " before Christmas." p0“ y g y

‘ . woman. She wants ample time for pre
 and all her little ambitions are ruined y undue

“ What) six months from now?” I

“ I believe it is.”

“ What’s the use of such delay?’

“ My dear Mr. Thornholm, you don’t under-
stand what a momentous afl’air a marriage is to a
ration,

e.
18“,In this case, it looks to me like undue de-
y- ‘
“ How little you understand a womanl”
“ By J ovei you are right’there!”

ou admit it! Then let me have my own

v . wa ,iu this affair.”

land had been annoyed b the suggestion

 "of such a lapse of time before t e weddin , but,
. , though a little sulky, he had not been irr table,

and ercnice’s good humor kept ill feeling out
of the argument.
As soon as she could leavd the unpleasant sub-

],mjcct conveniently, she introduced another.

(. “ B the way," she remarked, “ I had an odd
 ex once, the other day. After leaving Thorn-
, he in I noticed a half-folded paper in the car-
2; rings. How it came there I do not know, and
p can only surmise that it was dropped near your
,2 residence, and then whirled into my carriage by
mall erratic breeze, unseen b me, as I drove
» away. Not knowing whence t came I examined
' it, found it to be a note, and, before I suspected
,the truth, had read all. By its beginning I can

‘ __ onlyfguess that it belongs to you, and I apolo-
~ as

orreading it.” ..
She extended a half-sheet of note-pa er, and

: j , : énoland, much to his surprise, read as to owe:

“ “Dun R——-:-I be

that you will come to the
house as soon as

ssi to. Something st , Won-
incl

. derful and joyful occurred, and no ti to be
" 210st. We shall all watch for you. Come! ours,
lngly, I Nun."

 v'The reader will recognize in the foregoing the
note by which VinCent was summoned to the

,~ Norcr'oss cottage when his mother first ap ared
‘ I. there; and it will '
‘ . when the captain first took him from the hos-

also be remember that,

, fpttal in Cuba, the initial “ R” updn his infant’s

uni-e2

 

. 

  

garments had led the ex-sailor to call him
‘ Robert ” for many years. .

All was very simple, with the key to the mys-
tery, for Vincent had accidentally dropped the
note; but, when it came to Berenice's hands,
she naturally surmised that “ 11—” was mere-
ly a contraction of Roland.

That young man at once saw that lie was un-
favorabe placed.

He had neVer before seen the note, but it was
in u lady’s writing, and signed with a lady’s
name. He did not then recall the girl of the
cottage, and the situation was embarrassing.

Innocent though he was, for once in his life,
he felt the color deepening in his face.

If he had told the tr th and denied all knowl-
edge of the note, he night possibly have con-
viiiced Berenice partially, but he saw fit to take
a different course.

Always skeptical himself. he usually sus—
pected everybody else of falsehood. Now, be-
lieving others like himself, he thought his bc«
trotlied would not accept the truth, and, under
the impulse of the moment, be determined upon
an audacious lie.

Luck showed him a way to shape his denial.

“ Yes, it’s for me,” he returned. with assumed
carelessness. “It is from the captain of my
club, Nixon. Of course you have heard him
called by his nickname, ‘Nina?’ ”

“ I should say he deserves it.”

to Why?"

“ By the way he closes the note."

Roland looked at the paper again. and the
words, ‘ Yours, lovingly,’ stared him in the face.

“ Nixon is a queer fellow,” he agreed, feeling
hot and uncomfortable.

“ His pennianship is quite liken lady’s,” added
Berenice, indiii‘erently. a

Roland flushed. \ ’hy had he not considered
his falsehood Well before Venturing to use it?

“1 don’t know his wrizing, but it is very
likely some one else wrote it for him. I gavo it
only Casual attention, when received; but I
noticed that Nixon was in an odd mood when I

answered the call; probablyhe tried toplay a
joke on me. Zoundsl it iiiuat have irritated
him to see how coolly I took his jest. Ha! ha I”

Roland laughed, but there was no music in
the sound, and he wished the note at the bottom
of the ocean. I

Berenice exhibited no dissatisfaction with the
explanation. but, after commenting carelessly
upon Mr. Nixon’s alleged “jest,” changed the
subject skillfully, and did not refer to it again.

The visitor, however, was ill at ease, and, as
soon as was prudent, he cut the conversation
short and took his departure.

As he rode away, he thought of the note with
min led annoyance and per lexity.

“ ’ve put my foot into it nee-deep!” he mut-
tered. “ What a fool I was totry and make
her believe such a clumsy lie! The writing is a
woman’s as any one can see, and so is the lan-

uage. f Bereuice is at all sensitiva, she won’t
orget this!"

The other part of the case next claimed his
attention.

“It’s remarkably odd anyhow. ,I don’t see
who this ‘R ’ is. 0 such men lives at
Thornholm, and it must be tha the note blew
in from the highway. It has made trouble for
me-fl >

He paused abruptly; then as abruptly added:

“ By Jove! I have it!”

He had remembered the girl of the river cot-
tage, and had, indeed, grasped a part of the
in stery.

' She's the only ‘Nina’ around here, and it
must be she that wrote this rubbish, but who is
it she loves so deeply?”

He tried in vain to answer his own qUestion.

“Plainly, she don’t bestow so much affection
on me, even if the note was found at Thorn-
holm. ll‘o whom, then, did she write? If I can
learn that, I may be able to secure revenge for
her contemptuous treatment of me. I’ll seek
every clown near here whosename begins with
R. and if I don't at him into some trouble, it
will be because ’ve last my cunning. Even
yet I‘ll have the scornful Nina at my feet!"

He was so eluted with this plan that he began
to whistle, but, as he thought‘of seeking the
Norcross cottage again, recollection of the spec-
ter froze the notes on his li

“ What in the deuce did I see?” he muttered.
“Are there ghostsv who walk? My mrble
fathe ‘ ys not, and sodo others, but the aspect:
aria! they have seen them. I hope they—are—
r g t ’

He shivered as be remembered the ghostly-
faced object at the cottage.

f“ 11f”it was a living man— Ugh! I won’t think
0 it

 

And hé put spurs to his horse and went' ahead'

at a gallop. , .

Unluckin for Roland, Berenice had not be-
lieved a word of his explanation, and she, too,
was doing Some meditating. I

“The etter was written by a ladly, and I am
going to discover her identity. If can learn
enou h to warrant me to break the engagement,
I wil do it. I accepted Mr. Thornholm s offer
at a time when I thought thatl did not care for
life, bnt‘I-uaw see that I have only added to my

,5.
s

 

 

She looked thoughtfully at vacancy.

“ Was I right or wrong about that other
matter? I wish Iknew; I wish I could believe—
But, anyhow, Roland and I would be. an un»
happy couple. We have nothing in common.”

She rose abruptly, went to the window and
looked out. She had no object in doing so, but-
Fa to saw fit to tantalize her.

There was a cloud ofdust on the road, and out.
of this suddenly came Captain Hereford. riding
like Tam O’Shaiitei'. One moment he looked at
Royalstoii, and then kept on his way.

“He, always be!" murmured Berenice. “ If I
forget him for a moment, something brings him
to my mind. He comes here no longer, but I
think of him—always!” '

She watched the receding cloud Until it disap
peared, and then sighed wr—arily and rested her
head against the casing of the window. Some
people called her cold. They did not know how
superficially they judged.

“ Where will it end?” she wondered. " How
much longer can I bear this burden? EVei-y day
it grows deeper, heavier. and I cannot forget.
Oh! Arthur, why did I live to know so much?—4
why did chance reveal that whichnhas destroyed
my hopes of happiness forever? Better igno-
rance; lictterwdeiith !”

CHAPTER XXV.
A NOBLE PLANTER’S AFFAIR or THE HEART.

ANOTHER night came and went without
{ringing any noticeable change at Thornholm

edge.

Nothing further was seen of the mad-woman,
but Edward Crapo had selected two of the most
brutal negroes on the plantation to accompany
Hodge and Tuck iii the search for her. They
were to be well paid, in any case, while, if they
found hermthat part of his instructions Crapo
gave in a low tone.

It was notiCed as a singular fact that Hector,
the Newfoundland dog. had suddenly disappear-
ed, and, remembering h0w he had last Seen him,
Crapo could not doubt that he had followed the
woman in her flight.

It was a singular instanco of brute judgment
that the dog should constitute himself the com-
panioii of 'her who should have been open mis—
gress of himself and the house which sheltered

ini.

Roland had never before been so nervnus and
ill at ease, and, as he wandered around restlessly,
more than one of the. family suspected that he
had quairreled with Berenice. It need scarcely
be said, however, that he was thinking of what
he had seen at the Norcross cottage.

Veva, on the contrary. was radiant.
friendly relations with Vincent had been re-
established. and it made her noticeably happy.

Her thoughts dwelt much upon the secretary.
How good, kind, manly and sensible he was!
Veva no longer attem ted to hide the truth
from herself. She lov him: more than that,
her intuitions told her the feeling was mutuaL,

The idea made her happy, for she saw no rea-
son why they should not unite their fortunes for
life if they saw fit.

 

If he was, nor, so was she; if he was obliged’

to labor day y, so could she; if she was a daugh—
ter of Virginia, was he not a son of the same
old State?

Such were her thoughts as she made a pretense
of rearranging the trifles on a table, unconscious
that she “as being observed by admiring eyes
through the open door. ' ‘

Crapo had indulged in a stratogem, and the i

first fruits were visible when his visitor ap-
peared before the conventional hour of calling;
she Was in a trap.

A slig ht Cl‘llgh caused her to turn.

Mr. John Jay Lenth “’83 “If”!

He towed very low, and, as be straightened,
his eyeglass shot out little gleams, which may
have been sparks of his ardent affection.

cha did not hear the words which followed;
(oval-1y enough she realized that she was en-
mi! led and her indignation rose accordingly.

‘ I will call my father, Mr. Lennox," she said,
as she hastened toward the door.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he returned, hurriedly,
raising a deprecating hand. “ It is you I wish
to see, Miss Crapol” .

chn hesitated. Then her m00d changed.

She resolved to hear this odious young man,

and, if be troubled her further, it would be be-. »

cautslc he was invulnerable to things that usually
not c. ’ ‘

“ To see. me I” she repeated,\calmlyi ‘i That
changes the case. I supposed you had come on
business. Pray be seated. Arc‘you planning a'
pleasure trip somewhere?”

“ Hardly that, at present."

“ You men are so reckless I never know what
you will do next.” '

“ Do you think me reckless?" asked John Jay,
his face beaming with pleasure. .

“ Dreadfully reckless.” 1‘

“ Oh, no; I always take good care of myself.
Itlis”my duty—for the'sake of others, if not my-
se i’

This remark did not gonad suitable to him
b it, as Veva did not sniil
t at it was all right.

Any how, Ihe ice was broken, and be con-
tinued the conversation so well that, at the end

i . : \

Her '

at it; he soon decided '

 

J... “wan—0"“ ._....., -... f... .

 

 

 

 

    

 

chap

3\ - a", x,  1,;

angero 5 Dave.

 

- L: of five minutes, he'was upon his knees and pour-
in out the story of his burning affection.

n tumultuous words he placed Lennox
Manor and himself at her disposal, and the
eyeglass quxvered and sparkled in eager sym-
pathy. I

Not so with chu; she remained grave and
thoughtful.

” I have given this matter some thought, my-
self,” she practically unsweml, “and several
questions are in my mind. Resume your seat,
please, and We will proceed with our conversa-
tion.”

Mr. Lennox was vaguely disappointed, but it
was one point gained when she would listen to
him.

“I believe,” she added, in a business tone,
“ that you have several relatives?”

“ None nearer than cousins, uncles and
, aunts.”

“ N 0 class of relatives is more greedy. Have
you made a will?”

“ A ' ill?" Mr. Lennox echoed, blankly.
M Yeg'.”

“ No-o; I haven’t—not yet.” I

“ I shall desire you to make one before our
marriage 1”

'7, “ You Willi”;

3’ “ Yes. In case of your death, I should want
‘ to hold Lennox Manor, the house in \Vashing-
 tonl, apd enough cash so that I Could live in
,3 sty e.

,v John Jay’s eyes were very lar c. He was
startled—horrified” After a pain ul pause he
managed to rally.

“ I will do it, my dear—that is, Miss Crapo—
though I don‘t intend to die, just now."

“ Life is uncertain. Excuse me for referring
to the matter, but it is vexatious to be poor.
Onithe other hand, a rich widow is much sought
after!” .'

The lover was simply appalled. Horror brood-
ed darkly upon his face, and he had nothing to

on .

x If you don’t wish to make a will,” calmly
continued Miss Crapo, “ you might, instead, deed
me the Washington house, together with a year~
ly allowance of fifteen thousand dollars during
m lifetime.”

t is hard to say whether speaker ‘or listener
was the more shocked. It was certainly severe
upon Mr. Lcnnox to hear a charming girl plan,
at that delicate htur, how she would live and be
“ much sought after" as his widow; but Veva,
always before careful not to wound the feelings
of any one, was mortified and ashamed almost to
the point of weeping. ‘

She was not sure the end justified the means.

.Lennox drew his handkerchief nervously across
his flushed, rspiration-covered face.

“ Your Views are—are—very correct,” he as-
sented, “ but as no one should rush to a. decision
in such a matter. I suggest that we take a month
to—to think it over.”

“ I_ could not consent to ,accept a. smaller
marriage settlement, Mr. Leunox.”

" Of course not: 0! course not!” he agreed,
afraid that he WOUld be driven to the decisive
point at once. “ I was thinking of making it
more.”

,' “ In that case, I am willing to wait. Let it
9 rest for a month, and, during that time 1 will

-.n..,..,.. .fihgddwwwi. “Mum. we. .

 

 

 

j, ' devote m 'self to no one particular gen emau.
 I believe can do as well financially with you as
5 with anybody else.”

Somehow, the suitor managed to end the ln-
terview after a few more words, and retreat

went. » ‘
His-prospective father-in-law at once bestowed
critical notice upon him. ,
“ What luck, my boy ?” he asked, bluiily.
“Very fair, for the first attcm t,” returned
Lennox, trembling before that piercing gaze,
but feeling ‘that he must feign cheer-fairness to
, avert a storm. .
“ Did she consent?"

“ Nominally. yes.”

“ Nominally? That’s a queer word to use in
such a case. I don’t understand. What were
her exact words?"

,“I donlt think she used anv "helplessly re—
madedthe young planter. We tal ed vague.

Y- ' r -
“ The dlckens you did! I never supposed that
u ‘ vagueneos’ “as a. characteristic of low, and,
, Q even if it is, you are not proposing to me. Sup-
‘ pose you drop your vagueness. now, and talk to
the int.” . '
.y x, “ hope you approve of my course?" returned
‘ Lennox, implorlngly.
“ hat was our com-sci State it clearly!”
John _Jay t ed to obey. He felt the need of
presenting lt‘pe  in in) favorable a liggt thiat
l rapo wen u y no a passion an i at
( . .3900 making Veva give a direct answer. at 33m
« :—-the suitormas now an advocate of delay—

.‘  . ‘ k _. , .s
,1.  i . . ' 

51' . from the room. . _

 ‘ < Veva was left a prey to mortiflcation and indig-
S nation. ,She knew she had been entrapped de-
‘5, liberately, to listen to him, and this, with shame
l;- - at her own desperate resort, so affected her that
a; ‘ \ she went to her room and relieved her wounded
i , feelings with tears.

l _ . Shocked at her apparent selfishness, John
‘ ill: Jay wished to flee from the house.‘but dared
'i not. He had his order: to return to Crapo. He

i

 

 

I

  

   

    

 

Uzi. ‘.
I

while, at the same time, he dared not show that
he was wavering.

He told the story, smoothing it over the best
he could. Greatly to his relief, Crapo exhibited
no anger.

“ It will all end well,” declared the schcmer.
“ Women are a. little oflish, at first, simply to
use their power: it’s born in them, as in a cat, to
tantalize their prey. Men, before marriage, cor-
respond to the mice of the cats. Now, that
daughter of mine has her mind all made up. but
she wants to have her swing. Let her. John!
by all moans, let her! Men have to do thus with
their sweethearts, but, once they’re married——
ah! my dear boy, the shoe is then on the other
foot! Then the. man is lord and master, and he
can raise the Old Nick, the rest of his life!”

Cunning Edward Crapo was not in a philo—
sophical mood. Far from it. The fact was, he
knew Lennox’s weak nature well, saw the need
of-raising his spirits, and knew how to do it.

John Jay brightened at once.

“ Oh! it will be all right,” he agreed.

“I’ll talk with my daughter, myself, and, in a
few days, you shall have a letter with a decisive
answer. This delay of a month is absurd.”

“Oh! no, no! ,, Don’t hasten the matter! Veva
needs time—and so do I!”

“You are both too diffivlent. A wife, like a
rifle-pit before a fort, should be taken by storm.”

“ Yes; but I’ve heard it said it’s terrible (le-
structive to the stormers,” observed John Jay,
pathetically.

“ The more danger, the more glory. Let us
abandon metaphor, however. You have begun
well, and complete success is merely a matter of
a little time. Have no fear; as to the result;
Vevu shall be your wife. I give you my word
of honor. As for her coquettishness, it will soon

disappear.”

All this was so encouraging that the lover
forgot Veva’s strange language, and became
quite cheerful. . ‘

Going out of the house, a little later, he met
Walter Vincent. He gave the secretary one

supercilious stare and passed without a sign of
recognition, leaving the object of his hatred
verv much amused.

Edward Crapo had no sooner freed himself
from Lennox’s presence than he sent for his
daughter. The manner he had preserved in the
planter’s preScnce coincided but poorly with
what was really in his mind. Outwardly cool,
he was inwardly hot with anger.

Veva came, surprisingly calm, but withtraces
of weepin still visible in "her face.

‘ “ What 3 passed between you and Lennox?”
Crapo asked, abruptly. »

“ We have had our last interview, I hope. He
gave me a chance to marry him, but, as I have
told you before, I do not as ire to the honor.”

The father brought his and down violently
upon the table. '

“ And I have told you that you shall marry
him l” was the fierce declaration.

The girl’s face became almost colorless, but
she did not waver visibly.

“ Do you hear l” he continued.

“ I do, sir.”

“ Will you obey ?”

“ Father, it seems uneless for us-vto speak fur-
ther upon this subject. We haVe done so before,

freenl‘y and fully. I have stated my oh‘ections
to r. Lennox, and they are insuperab . Let
us therefore, drop the subjct.”
/ The ice in Crapo’s nature again asserted its
supremacy. ,

“ As you will,” he returned, coldly, “ but, if
you persist in your determination, you can no
onger find shelter under this roof.”

_ “"1 believe the place is my brother’s property,
sir. ,
 Roland vhu obay me.”

“ If hedoes, it will be the first time.” '

“ There is about to be a change at Thornholm,
as you shall H‘enceforth, I speak only to
be obeyed: I’ll show you that I am Roland’s
master; at my order the will throw you upon
the world l?’ , ‘ ‘

Bespoke with icy determination which made
her shiver. Morelike a judge of the days of the
inquisition he seemed than like a father.

" There are Worse things than what you
threaten,” she answered, after a pause.

” 1f so, you shall taste the full cup of bitter
ness, if V you defy me. It is for you to say, but
be not too haSt . - I give you forty-eight hours
for reflection. on can 0!"

He arose and opened‘the door; she passed
through Without a word, and again hastened to
her room. ,

A negro came to Crapo. ‘

“ J Obi wants to See you, sub,” he announced.

Them 11 of ice started a little. John was one

_of, the negroes he had Sent with the smnnp our-

laws to hunt the mad—woman. , ,
“ Show him in,” was the response. ‘

CHAPTER XXVI:
wuo SHALL Bl: MASTER? . '

Charo received the reportof his man. It was
far from satisfactory. but a clew had been.
gained. By means of the hound the hunters had
allowed the trail of the mad-woman into the
depths of the swamp which bordered the river off

tcthe southeast, - ,» ,

,l;

      

    

They had even caught a glimpse of her on the
Black Acre, but Hodge and Tuck had refused to
venture there, remembering their past experi-
ence. while the negroes had no desire to have a.
first experience.

As a result, the attempt had been abandoned
weakly in the very hour of success.

Such cowardice angered Crapo, and he gave
his opinion to John in language plain and en:—
phatic, but not wishing to stir his too] up too
much, and thereby set a loose tongue in wnrir,
he finally dismissed him as gracmusly as [.m-
sihle.

He, however, had a new idea.

At last he knew where :to seek the woman,
and before another sun set he would visit the
Black Acre!

Once more alone, he arose and paced the
room for half an hour. Weighty matters were
struggling in his mind—too weighty even for
the soothing influence of the Life of Napoleon.

He ended by ringing fora negro, whom he
directed to ask Roland to join him. Then he
resumed his seat. The brief storm had passed,

 

and he had never been calmer, outwardly. 3;,
Roland soon entered and dropped into a chair. 

“ I hear you want to see me?" ,vg.

, “ Yes,” Crapo replied. “ Did you see Len— ,5;
' M?" as

“ Not to speak with him.” 

“ He proposed to Veva today, and she turned 
the matter into ridicule.” '

“She did right!” Roland declared. “ He is n
ridicule 9n the name of man; he has neither
muscle nor brains.”

“Nevertheless, Veva will marry him I”

“ That’s her business, not mine; but if she is
sensible she will send him flying.”

“ Roland, I want your help in this.”

“ To make Lcnnox my brother-in—law? Thank
you. no; I’d rather have an alligator. Lennox,
if not so dangerous as that reptile, is more\un-
gainly and unsightly.”

“ I have told Veva that unless she obeys me
she shall leave this house. She reminded me ,
that you was its owner. I replied that you would
do whatever I said.”

“ That’s cool !” ejaculated ROl.=.ud. “ How do-
you know I will? You may fight all you wish
with the girl on other matters. but in this I’m;
with her! No John Alligator Lennox for mel’,’

' It was not brotherly affection which influenced 2
Roland. nor wholly dislike for Lennox. He '
was stubborn, and having learned just what
Cra wished, was prepared to oppose him,
whi e the intimation contained in the elder
man’s last remark added fuel to the fire.

Crapo did not betray the least uneasiness. ,

“ It was rtly to ask your aid in the case
that I sent or you,” he continued. “ and partly
to ask for twenty thousand dollars!” '

“Twenty thousand dollarsl” echoed Rolan ,.
blandly. » \

u Yea” -

 

    
  
  
   
    
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
   
 
    
  
   
    
 
   
    
    
   
   
   
  
   
    
 

-‘

“ For what purpose?”

“ As a gift rom you to myself.” ,

Roland laughed. V

"-You are a modest duck! Don’ta life resi~
deuce here satisfy your ambition?” .

“ I may 'wish to leave, in which case I require
the means.” ' _ *~
y “And on want twenty thgusand for pocket-_ ,
money? ou’ll eXCnse me; I on’t care to make 
such a gap in my resources.” - '

“ Your fortune amounts to a million.” 1 N:

“Ygs; and I’m going to keep it -up to that. 

int. i 

“ I must again make the request,” coldly ut-
tered Crapo. ' l - . - .

“See here i” cried Roland, irritably, “ what:
are you driving at? ’You talk as if I Were your '
creditor!”

“ So you are: you owe me over half a million ‘-
-—t‘ae value of Thornholm when it into;
your hands.” ,, _,

“ I see!” declared the younger man, sarcasti-
cally. “ You are jealous use old man ‘
Thornholm gave me his whole pile, and left yon-
iu the cold. Well, as I was only an infant“...
wasn’t my fault. You ought to be saris 
with a home like this.” , ,
I “But I want a gift of twenty thousand glob:
are!” .' ,

Edward Crapo, as composed as ever, kept his -
gaze flared upon his companion and spoke each.
word slowly and distinctly. His face was ua-V‘
readable but Roland grew freshly irritable

   
  
  
 
   
   
  
    
    
      
       
   
       
  

 
  
    
  

“ You ’can’t have it!" he declared.

“ I must i"  
“ I say you shall not!” ‘ ‘
“ And 1 say I will I”

The master of Thornholm grew red withou—

 
     
     
  

   
   
   
      

Eef- , ,
“ What in the flend’s \nnme do you mean
Are you mad? Thornholm is mine, amino ms
can suit me and remain under its mot. Drop
the sub' 1" - > -,
“ Will—w hen I get the money." ,
“ on can live and die calling for it i”
From the first there had been no trace of
'er or excitement in Crapo’s vorce or manner
gut, nevertheless. each told of a fixed pm.
He watched Roland steadil ,nnd without 
He‘ kn w what the other id nob-that it
toseewho would be :11 erg

 
 
 
  

      
        

   
  

  
  
      
   
       

 

8tng , .
intentionally tantalized his victim 

  
  

 

 
   

20 V

; rt” 3 y‘.,'.. "(fulfil ~' 9'“ i' ".r .

 

' Dangerous Dave.

 

ter was angry and nervous; now, he was ready
for the climax.
He spoke. with additional deliberation:
“Roland 'l‘hornholm, your future is at stake.
For a Score of years you have been absolute
ruler hero, little dreaming that there was a
ower bcliind the throne; little dreaminL,r that
, who was so maliciously cut off from Robert
, Allan 'l’hornholin’s money, Could drop you from
" your proud pontion win-newr I saw iii. ()f

 

' ‘ course I did In it Lino lit,formy interests demanded
 that you r-minin; but, if the time has come who”
 . you are no lonch uSeful to me, I will deprive
 '- you of your lad dollar and send you out into the

world a beggar!"

Still the calm, unrnfilcd voice and manner,
 and, preposterous as it seemed, Roland feared
 ' that he spoke the truth. But the planter forced

" an unpleasant laugh.

“ How will you do that?
it?”

“ By proving that you are not Roland Thorn-
holm!”

“ Nonsense 1”

“Not a drop of Grape or Thornholm blood is
:in your veinsl"

“ It is a base lie!” shouted Roland.

“ Not so load! Do you want others to hear
:me speak your doom? Pay attention to me, and
leave ranting alone. I tell you that the boy
master of this plantation, grandson of Robert
Allan Thornholm, and son of myself and my
' wife Rosalind, died nearly twenty years ago, in

. ‘Cuba. The same grave covered both him and

‘ his mother 2"
' “’Tis false l” asserted the listener hoarsely.
“It is true. A week ago I had the papers
which proved the double death, but they have
"been stolen from me, and I suspect that the thief
intends to use them for the purpose 1 say the
. I  can accomplish—to prove that the real
f a r died in childhood.”
" i “ Then, in the fiend’s name, who am I?”

“ The son of a street—singer I met in Savanab.
‘My own son was dead, and, knowin Thorn-
.holm was lost forever unless I resen xi some
«one in his place, I gave five hum red dollars to a
:man that was singing in the streets, accomgg:
nied by a ragged, dirty child; and thereby
vcame possessor of the child—yourself 1”

Edward Crapo paused, and no sound broke
'the silence save the heavy breathing of the false
master of Thornholm.

' His face was pale, and, though unwilling to
_ admit the fact, he was compelled to believe what,
he had heard.

But he would not yield tnmcly.

“ Prove itl” he finally cried. -.

.v “I cannot prove how I found you, for-I left
i the street- singer without learning his name or
. yours; but, if you will go to Cuba, you can see
 t he record of my real son’s death. You may
' :seoit all too soon unless I regain my own lost

papers from the thief.” .

“ Who is the thief?”

“, I must decline to state.”

“ Perhaps the person is our ally, and—”

, “ So far from that, unIess I recover the pa-
rpers, I shall get out of the United States with
all possible haste.”
 7“ What horrible mystery is this?” Roland mut-
wed.

How can you do

 

     
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
 
   
    
  
   
   
    
   
  
    
   
  
   
  
    
  
   
  
    
   

 " Leave the mystery alone!” Crapo replied,
ja'harply. “Leave me to deal with that, and
rest assured that I shall work well for you as
dong as our interests are identical. Look you to
7whatis'clearl I have showu you why I want
the twenty thousand dollars-40 flee the Country
1fth pressed—and, as for yourself, 8969 to it
“that you have an abundan of cash always on
1 . If you see the rats scampering over the
jfieck desert the sinking ship.”

‘5 “ 1,1 I had.proof——” ‘
if I should show you

“ Would ou believe
the pars mention and, proving them genu-
' "ins, t you read the death—certificate of my real

son?”
' “Of course.”

“Then let that be theedproof. I’ll produce it.
,_ rmtat, or we are ruin ; I must, even though
“the road to victory is reddened by murder!”

_.f Cnpo whispered the last word, and Roland
' ahivsrod- in horror. What a change the hour
,hsd model It was almost too strange and bar-
rible fer belief, but he read sincerity in his com-
panion’s Very way.

His mpanioni That was all Crapo wasto
In. No tie of blood bound them. He was
either avatar?!» nor a Thornholm. He was-—
. 0

x’ i , Simply a man without a name!

' “ I have faith in you; and we‘ll all together,”
finally said, more firmly. “ I‘ i stand by the
w who has given me twenty years of luxury.

 ‘money you want is yours. We are friends
and allies; map out our future course.” ,5
. .‘1! I can avert the danger, two things must
holiestenod forward to completion-eyour inbr-
mge toBoreuice, and Veva’s with Lennox.” "

f‘nggt; I' now see the wisdom of the fast

“’0 0. :
"iri"1,,“And if she rebels,‘ she shall leave Thorn-
‘W i" ’ '

m .
9: She shall!” asserted Roland, firmly. f
‘ lady-love.

    

  
  

  

 

is
if

  
   
  

 
 

 
 
     
  

  
  

Good! look to your own

lonelier. ’ , I

x" , Now
W Hereford
1 ,I I '

  

A

 

“ Hereford?”

H X785.”

“ How do you know 2”

“I am not blind.”

“ I’ll kill the scoundi‘el l”

“ lie sure he is dangerous, first. I have read
him well, but can‘t say how she feels. lie care
full”

“ I’ll be prudent. for, if Thornholin is lost,
I’ll shoot myself. l’in not capable of earning
my bread. A street-singer’sscn! Zounds! that
sounds wcll Z”

Crapo rose, wont to one side and, returning,
laid on the table a long«bladed knife.

“ “'hat's that!" Roland asked, with a start.

“ I'm about to seek the person who stole my
papers,” was the icy reply, “and this weapon
is necessary.”

“ Would you—-”

“I would silence the thief, as well as regain
the papers. I say this boldly. When I put you
inside Thornholm I confided in no one, but,
now, we must work together; we are accom-
plices. I think I can rely on you?”

“ You can, come what may !"

They crossed hands; the compact of crime
was sealed. Accomplices they wore from that
hour, and neither shrunk from the work that
might come.

Crapo again took 11 the knife, and, as he
turned away, spoke wit cold significance:

“ I will now seek the thief!"

CHAPTER XXVII.
THE STRUGGLE AT BLACK ACRE.

ROLAND watched stolidly as Crupo prepared
for de iarture, untroubled by the sight of the
knife he saw his companion put in his pocket.
The bond of crime had made them nearer, if not
dearer, to each ‘other than ever before; their
hopes and plans were to the same end; and each
mind was corrupt enough not to shrink from
the terrible means of safety.

After leaving the house Crapo used some
strategy to cover his movements from possible
observers, but finally bore around to the Black
Acre swamp.

Entorm , he trod that wretched region, avoid-
ing alike t a treacherous pools and deadly ser-
pents that menaced his safety.

The thunder began to roll; dark clouds gath-
ere 1 above the trees, shutting out the hormone;
and the thick foliage cast gloomy obscurity
over the swamp, but Crapo was not supersti-
tious enough to be influenced by whats. more
timid man might have thought suggestive signs
of Divine condemnation.

He approached the Black Acre.

He now became cautious. He knew the dan-
ger, and was anxious to guard his life. He be-
gan the passage, Selecting a point skillfully, and
then moving inch by inch with great care.

r Improving the decaying logs and upright
trees as others had done before him, he finally
stood in safety on the Black Acre.

Feeling in his pocket, he found his knife
secure. Ho ascended the side of the knoll. He
was among the pines, and his feet pressed noise-
lessly upon the fallen needles. Creeping along
like an Indian, he looked eagerly for the mad-
woman. The semi-darkness of the w0od was
against him, but the Black Acre was small, and
he could not long be at fault. , . ,

Discovering the but at last,’ he paused and
looked eagerly. He felt sure that he would find
her there.

There! What a resting—place, a home, for
her who should have been the mistress of Thorn-
hohn that day! The wretched, decaying hut
looked as if a breath of wind would beat it into
a flattened mass.

For sew-ml minutes Crapo remained silent
and still; then he crept toward the hut. His
iron face showed no change, except that his
lips were tightly drawn. Once he paused to
draw the knife from his cket and thrust it up
his sleeve, with the hand a resting in the palm
of his hand.

Ominous pre ration! r

. He reached t a door of the but and peered in.
The darkness 'there would have been great had
not some light penetrated through crevices in
the miserable roof.

One ghostly gleam fell upon a sleeping person.

It was the mad-womanl

 

She lay partially upon her side, one arm'

thrown forward and resting in her tangled hair.
Her slumber seemed peaceful, but she was as
ra god and wretched as ever.

grape drew a quick, deep breath. The mo-
ment and' the chance 161‘ which he had longed
had come; the chance, a parently for him to
stain his hands with a or me as foul as dVer man
pefiietrated. ,

9 did not waver. ,

Turnin his, knife ready for use, he glided
through hovdoor and toward the sleeping wo-
man. His cautioud footsteps made no betraying
sound; the unhappy woman slept on calmly.

One step more and-4 \

There was a savage growl; the rush of some-
thing large anddark from the remoter shadow;
apart and a ion on Cra 9 port, and then he
foundhimself l, at ful length Ou‘the , and,
with  t twww

  

 
  
   
 

  
    

; 

 

 

owildnnimp {mud-

Alarm seized upon him. He had lost his
knife: he was helpless. But a >econd look
showed that he had made one mistake.

The animal was Hector, the dog.

Hope revived.

“Hector! Goodfellow; good fellowll’hemur-
mured, coaxingly.

The dog remained deaf to the call. (,‘rapo put
out a hand to caress Hector-’5 head, but the lat-
ter turned stolidly, walked toward the mad-
woman, and croucned in front of her bed of
bought

The would-be murderer hastened to regain his
feet. His intended victim had risen to a sitting
position, and was gazing at him confusedly,
brushing the tangled hair back from her eyes.

“ I’ll move before she recognizes me i” thought
Cm o.

He looked for his knife, and saw it lying on
the ground jUst in front of Hector. Forgetting
all also, be advanced to secure it, but, with an‘
ominous growl, Hector rose and stood with ex-
posod teeth, the coveted knife directly between
his. feet.

Crnpo paused abruptly. He knew Hector of
old; he had seen him go to battle when his
usually placid nature was disturbed; and he had
no wish to defy the strength wth lay in those
jaws, shoulders and limbs.

There was he thought, a safer way.

“ Good fellow: Good old boyl” he uttered, in
those uliar tones one usually adopts to win
the g -will of a dog. “ Noble Hectorl”

He p t: out his hand, but the dog growled
again, and awarning light appeared in his eyes.

Angered, Crapo made a divo for the knife,
but the brute guardian met him with a respon-
sive forward leap, and the schemer was driven
back to the door, baffled and furioas.

Hector returned to his sition by the knife,
while Crapo stood still expressed his view
of the situation in language more emphatic than
elegant.

By this time, too, the mad-woman bad re-
covered from her confusion, and, as she stood
erect, the visitor saw that he was recognized.

“Ho! ho!” she cried; “so on have come to
my ild-wood bower? So you ve cometoreturn
my Visit? You are welcome; Hercules and I
are glad to see you i” l

Crapo did not answer. He looked from the
woman to the d his anger at white heat.
Hector, watchingofiim with ceaselessvigilance,
stood as firm as though bound to deserve the
new name she had given him. ’ 

Now that it was too late, the plotter keenly
regretted not having brought a pistol. ‘

“ Why are you so silent?” continued the wo-
man. “ You were not so mute when you pur—
sued me at Thornholm. I see a knife on the
the ground. 80 you attempted to kill me, my
Lord Edward? It is useless; Herculvs is here!”

She inted to the dog, and, in every word
and 100 ', Crapo saw signs of a degree of sanity
which was very dangerous.

Deranged she still was, but, in the resence of
others, she could tell a story whic would do
him no good, to say the least.

“ You are mistaken,” he replied, changing his
manner. ” I have come as your friend.”

She laughed mockingly. _

“ I ( n’t care to have that kind of friendship.
Youde knife speaks plainly. Yon wished to
kill me so that I would not appearand drive on
out of Thornholm—you and your pro on:
family: so that I would not point to the master
of the Lodge and say: , I

~ “ Roland an impostor?” echoed Crapo, With a
pretense of surprise. “ What do you mean?”

“ That the vulture is in the eag e’s nest. The
man who is called Roland is no Thornholm; he
is an im )ostur picked up by, you after you
received the certificate of the death of the real
heir l” ‘ ’ V > * ,

It was worse than the schemer had thought;
this woman knew enough to ruin him. He was
full of fear anger and hatred, but resolved to
proceed wit increased caution. ‘ '

Gent] he answered: . v
“I so received a. certificate of your 'own
death.”

She touched the bosom of her ragged dress.
“ Yes; I have it herel” ‘ ' 3
fits eyes glittered covetously.

“ How did this brror owuri” he asked.   '

‘_‘ I don’t know; I was mad.”

“ And our son—did you see him die!”

A cunning expression came to her face.

“ Ha! ha!” she lau bed; “ you think, Edward
Grape, that my has is a sieve from which you
can draw all you want to known GlVe up the
hope, at once; I’ll tell nothing i"

Providentially, the woinan guarded her secret
even in her derangedstate. "

Cm ’s aze wandered Hector.

“ Hg?! (lid that dog chain to follow you?” he
asked, absently. ,_ .
“ Doubtless, be new that I was wretched and
in need of aid. Bethat as it may he‘ls my

protector ” ‘

She knelt by the Newfoundland and put her
arrn around his neck. He manifested pleasure.
but. as L‘ra’ stirred slightly, menaced him
witha ow and fierce front. 1 /

. “. nd the brute away;I want to talk with: x, '

‘ finned the schemor, abruptly.

a

 

‘ This is an impostorl’." ,

/

 

 

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me.”

“ I give you my word of honor—” v

“Your Word of honor I” was the sarcastic
retort.

“I tell you that if you’ll send him away—”

“ llt‘l't‘.ll”3 remains with me!”

Cm; o was in a rage. The knife remained at

' the dog’s i‘m-t, and an attempt to secure itinight
result fatally to the man. In an open-handed
encriunter with licctor he would be like a mere
child.

He scowled upon the pair.
him vieiluntly.
around the other’s neck, but it was not are-
straining hold. At a word from her the dog
would leap to the attack.

Crapo had not been his friend, in the past;
n0w, lie was not Crapo‘s friend.

The latter turned, stalked out of the hut, and,
under the trees, looked for a weapon of offense.
Stones there were none, but he soon found a
strong pine branch, heavy and sodden, which
suited him well.

“ If I can get one good blow with this at the
brute, he Will never know what hurt him.
What cursed luck! He remembers divers kicks
I gave him on the plantation grounds, and his
instinct is as good as reason. But I’ll fix him
with this. Then for the mad-Woman!”

He returned to the hut.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE DOG DEFENDER.

HECTOR greeted Crapo’s return with a growl,
and followed every mOVement with wary eyes.
He saw the stick and knew its purpose, apparent-
ly, but instead of ww‘ering, grew yet fiercer in
his aspect. '

The noble animal had never looked grander;
he had never before been in work so grand.

Balancing the club in a suitable manner.
Crapo crept forward. The dog’s growl increas-
ed in volume.

“ Back!” cried the mad-woman
“ back, or there Will be a sea of blood l”

Crapo did not heed her. Gathering all his
strength, and aiming at Hector’s head, e swept
the club through the air. ,

Quicker than his own movements were those
of his opponent. Evading the blow he leaped
like a panther at the man‘s throat, and the
impetus of his heavy body bore Crapo to the

Both watched

wildly;

ground.

His club had fallen well away; he lay helpless,
Evith the jaws of the noble animal yawning above

111').

The guilty wretch closed his e es, expecting
to feel the fatal touch. but it id not come.
There was a painful pause; then he opened his
eyes and looked 

The do seem hesitating as to whether he
would ma 9 an end of him.

The mad-woman was reatly excited. She
stood erect and, flingin er gray hair around
her wildl , laughed loud y and unnaturally.

Crapo ardly dared to breathe, but, once more,
Hector abandoned the advantage'he had gained
and retreated to bfi former posuzion.

Then the woman evinced a disposition to take
up the gauntlet of war.’

Grasping the knife with one hand she twined
the fingers of the other in the dog’s shaggy hair,
and, much to his satislwction, drew him toward
their common enemy. .

“ Keep off!” Crapo ordered. “ Back, I say;
you come to your death!” ‘

“ Ha! hal” she laughed; “ it is our turn,
now. You have twice tried and failed- now see

Watch him, Hercules;
Watch him i”

The Newfoundland, growled savagely, and be-
fore his ominous trout Crapo’s courifi“ fléd- HO
hurriedly left the hut.

“ Hol he flees!” exclaimed the woman. “ Fol-
low, Hercules, and We will crush this worm X”

Then the plotter, who had paused a few feet
away, saw them come out with a rush. His
courage was beyond question, but common pru-
dence demanded prompt rem-eat.

He had seen enou h of Hector,

He turned and ed as from a panther and
as he hastened down theslops‘, the allies follow
in hot ursuit. ,

As t e wretch remembered what was before
him his heart shrunk." 'One ot‘his prearranged
ways of getting rid of the mad~womm had been
to drive her into the quick-and or marsh,

Now, he was apparently being hurried to the
same terrible fate. ., ,

It was a race for life, and the maniacal léugh-
ter of the woman urged him on. Hector was
verv silent, but when Crapo looked behind, once,

a

he clearly read in the dog’s manner that, it he

secured another chance, he would not stay his‘

mags lam. he

'1 urged the woman was eager
to do h s wanton by ’

I The treacth footing was reached. Orapo
With a fear he had
.never before felt in his life he made a dash

- ,where the half-sunken logs seemed the most,

was“

v s rst stepwass. success,

second but at thatth cut'into the

mud tdthe ' , '0“ leg."
: ,1 ->

“You want toget your knife and murder

The arm of the one remained ,

and so wu’the,

 

A great effort saved him, and he kept on in
safety.

Agility and sheer desperation carried him for-
ward, and, at last, he stood on the other side.

Looking back, he saw his pursuers more slow-
ly crossing, and he started off at a run. It would
not do to stop and see what they would do after
getting over.

He ran at speed new in his experience for
many years.

“ But I'll get at them again 3” he thought,
darkly. “ I‘ll go back and get a pistol—then I'll
try again i”

 

Walter Vincent saw Crapo leave the house,
and soon after Roland took his gun and started
toward the eastern wood.

This pleased the secretary. It will be remema
bered that at the interview with his mother at
the Norcross cottage he declared, led by her ad-
vice, that hc would seek in Crapo’s (private room
for the papers he had failed to flu
search of the old cabinet.

The hour for the attempt was at hand. He
knew Crnpo always kept the room locked during
his absence, and as he had found a key that
would turn the bolt, there was not much danger
of interruption.

He could lock himself in, and no one was likely
to come near.

He did not go about the task with any great
leasure. In his career as a detective he had
won compelled to resort to sundry strata gems,

like other detectives, but he had become a man
entirely different from the original “ Dangerous
Dave.’ ’

The very walls of the old house where the
Thornholms had lived for so many years before
Crapo’s day seemed to point an example speak-
ing of strictest honor, and when he would have
acted simply as a: detective he found himself
thinking like a man in private life.

Yet invade Crapo’s room he felt that he must,
and he lost no time in going about it.

He was soon in the room, with the door locked
behind him. "

The place stoke plainly of Edward Crapo’s
occupancy. luxuriously fitted up as far as
carpet and furniture went, it was entirely
devoid of hrica-brac and finer ornamentation.

Vincent gave these things but a casual
, glance.

A trunk stood in one corner, but as he saw
that it was not locked he turned his attention
to the bureau. The drawers were soon
searched, but not a paper of value to him was
found.

Plainly, the truck was the last resort.

 On approaching it he saw with some surprise

that the lock had been broken, but he began the .

examination without delay.

It need scarcely be said that he was not suc-
cessful; the all-important papers were even then
in the mad-woman’s possession. ’

Vincent, little dreaming what strange scenes
had occurred in the life of the unfortunate Ros
alind since he last saw her, was grra‘tly disap-
pointed, but he did not despair.

Previous detective experience had shown him
that courage and perseverance could do many
things.

‘ He arranged everything as near as possible as
he had found them, and eft the room, locking

.the door behind him.

“ I‘ll visit the cottage this afternoon,” he
thought. v ‘

"He was leaving the house when he was ac-
costed b Veva Craig). .

' “ Pan on me, Mr. indent,” she said, with un-
usual seriousness, “ but, it you are not in haste,
I‘ would like half an hour 0 your time.”

“ An hour, or more, it you wish, Miss Crapo.”

“ Then let us walk where we shall be alone.”

It was plain that some trouble was oppressing
her, and he became sympathetic, at once, only
to recollect that he would soon deal her a blow
which would bli ht her whole after life;

“ Heaven‘pity er!” he thought, helplemly.

Once under the old trees that were such
friends to both, they went to a bench, but Veva
did not It stones. '

Her flll' face bore a lmlf' of sadness, and it
went stral ht to Vincent’s heart. , -

He lov this girl! Hts—«but it was madam;
the maddest of all things! He must turn his
back on all; he must not be even a friend to one
who must some time hate him. '

She broke the silence at last. ,

“ I am in trouble, Hr. Vinoait, and for! the
need of an advnier. Perhapsl havs done wrong
in coming to you, but I have faith in your honor
and your judgment.” ' ' .

, “ on can command me, Miss Capo.” .

r “ y father, I believe, told you that I was to
man 19. Lennfil” H , r

u

hold both him and Mr. Lennox that" cannot
consent. I need not 9 the. matter: it is

' enough that Mr. Lonnox very disagreeable to
me. Despite all I have said, Mr. Crapodcclares
thdt I Iha l marry the gentleman or leave’l‘horn-
helm forever.” '

 

y. .. r , .
“Unfurtunatelypit is  pomibla and out.

i

;.

during his,

88.
- ‘i Such are his wishes, but I have repeatedly.

_“ Impossible!” cried the secretary, imam.

Such were his words, and he intends to keep the
threat.”
“ This is serious, indeed,” agreed Vincent,
grasping blindly for some way of escape.
“ I shall never marry John Jay Lennox—
never! “'lint, then, am I to do! Clearly, I
must leave Thornholm, but I am thinking of a
way to forestall and baflie Mr. Crapo. I am
goingr to \Vashington.”
“ You have friends there, then f”
“ No. I must depend upon nt'C-Sr-lf."
The detective was alarmed. Far better than ,
his companion he know how dreary a struggle v;
was the fight of a young woman to gain sub—» ‘ ,,
sistence in a large city. _, if
“ Alone and fricndless!” he murmured. 

  

“ But full of courage!” 

Their eyes met, hers calmly resolute, but free '3‘
from boasting courage, his, tender, sympao ‘.
thetic, doubtful and troubled.
' She was going out into the selfish, grasping
world; the world which was as merciless as the
jungle tiger; and she was his father’s daughter
—his own half-sister.

“ It shall not be!” he exclaimed.
tect you 1”

Her cheeks flushed with grateful joy.

“ You ’9’"

It I 1”

He meant it all, but his manliness seemed to
shrink the next instant. He remembered the
fatal secret which he must divulge when be pro.
duced Rosalind Thornholm Crapo. alive.

He her protector, when she was fated to suffer-
more keenly at his hand than she could by any
act of Edward Crapo'sl

The light of happiness was in her eyes.

“ You are very kind, but—but—” v

She paused at a loss how to express what was
in her mind, but the very bitterness of the situ«
ation calmed him. He had made an offer hastily.
How could he retreat from it.

Why should he retreat? Why should he not.
rotect her? It fate compelled him to darken her
its, was that any reason why he should tum

against her utterly? ”

If he raised the storm, why not offer a harbor.

He answered steadily:

“ I have a home, humble though it be, and an,
sister who will receive you kindly. She is good ‘
and true. Will you accept a place in her heart
and in .her home?”

. CHAPTER XXIX.
wan VINCENT FOUND IN THE SWAMP.

“ YOU are very kind !” ‘

Veva made the reply with a glad light in her
eyes. She was asked to share Vincent’s homes
to be the companion of his sister, and these facts,
together with words and looks in the pi st on his:
part, well remembered by her, changed her, .. »
whole expression. -

“ Wlile there,” added the secretary, “ your
only associates will be my sister and—our father" .
—-but I shall feel it my duty to call, now and:
then, and inquire after my ward.”

Strangely enough, he laid out the chart of the
future in good faith; in his anxiety to supply a
home for Veva, he ignored all else.

Veva did not decline the offer. It had made»
her so happy that she, '00, ignored much that
others mig t have remembered, and she accept— ,, , _ ,
ed gladly and gratefully.  -

“ I am going to see my sister, immediately,” »
Vincent went on. “ I have been neglecting her, '
I fear, and will do so no longer. While there, I _, ,
will make arrangements in due form so you can. ‘ ’
go over in two or three days.” '- '.

The interview was soon ended, and he hasten— "
ed away toward the southeast.

“ How good and noble he is!” thought the un-l
suspecting girl. “ How he seeks to make me ‘.
happy! Perhaps he is selfish in doing so, and?»
I ope he is! He is to be trusted fully. No a
treacherous or unworthy thought eVer entered
his mind i" i .

Meanwhile, the man she had eulogized was re;
viewing his own conduct. _*

At first it looked like addinginsult to injury ,
toofl'er the shelter of his home when he was:
about to deprive her even of spams, but 
thought convincedl him that, with no other
means of reparation in his power, it was 11!:
duty to give all the care and tenderness that
could be sifted from the dark drama. _ _ _ 2

“ If I can’t spare her own feelings I n at;
least, save her from the merciless world. a
shall have a homo somewhere, with all that lore ,
and money and honest devotion, can supply. .
How weak '1 am now! how unlike a'detectcy
Men of my profession would not  so like iron
if the cases they handled were their owul“ v

He was hastening through the swamps, and
was well advanced to the cottage, when, M
the cover of a thicket, be cause upon a 3mm .
scene. ‘ _ " ‘
\ U a little elevation, a‘ few: ards away,
Mm Norm and. caution mm,

crouched with ex

ready to us upon, the“:

    
  
   
     
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
   
  
   
   
   
     
  
  
   
  
    
 
    
      
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
     
   
  
    
  
   
 
   
  
   
   
  
    
     
    
    
    

“1 will pro—

    

  
 
    
     
 
 

  
   
  

    
    
 
    
  

 
    
 
 

  
  

 
  

  

      

sailor theleut provoea ion. I 
The cg was Hector,nnd Vincent meta.

 
 

      

 
 

 

 

      
 

tmatey“; first. to understand the cause  
Further «my furnished the explauatlom;

  
 
 
 
 

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Dangerous Dave. ,

 

 

 

  
 

:53 Back of Hector a woman was half-reclining ‘
'  upon a log; a woman whose garments were a
. ._ mass of rags, and over whose face and shoulders ;
5' i floated disheveled hair which seemed never to

3‘ have known the use of comb or, brush.
; i The observer suddenly grew pale.
' The woman was the unfortunate wanderer,
and position and appearance showed that she g
was either unconscious or dead. it was a start- ‘
ling sight, for he had supposed her safe and well
at the cottage, and the shock rendered him ino-
nwuturily incapable of motion.

Captain Norcross’s voice rose in pathetic com-
plaint.

“ Oh! can’t you understand anything? Shiver
my timbers! if you ain’t worse than a cabin-
boy on his first voyage! Here I’ve told you in

z 4. - 4.;. ..n»\. .-.A-‘. . ..

, a; 5,.xaaft‘ngzgjggga'...g;. .j.

I , plain words that I’m a friend, but you’re as deaf
! as a post!”
f The detective saw that the dog was bound to
1‘ ~. protect the insensible woman, or die in her de-
 fense.
Hector’s loyalty had undergone no change
i , since the adventure on Black Acre.

Vincent broke the spell and hastened forward.
 / ‘ A Norcross saw him at once, and his rugged face
., v ‘ ' lighted up, but that was not the only sign of ’
iii ' . welcome. Hector was not slow to recognize
the new-comer, and his fierce aspect gave place
to one of joy.

“ Is she dead 1” Vincent asked, bneathlessly.

“ I don’t think so, but the dog wouldn’t let me
go near her. I’ve been trying a long time—”

The detective did not hear the rest. He had
hastened to his mother’s side, and was looking
with fear and trembling for the answer to his
own question.

“ She lives!” he cried; “she has only fainted !”

“ Providence be thanked i” murmured the old
sailor, brokenly.

“ But, reat heavens! why is she here, and
again clot? in these misorable rags?”
, V “ She ran away, my boy.”
‘f “ And is she again—mad?”

‘. “ Of course she was when she went but, why
" can’t she be brought around again? on know

I - the doctor said that, if she had a relapse, it

I; ' , would be mild, for, she was bound to get her
5 i reason back, if nothing serious ha )pened.”
' ‘ “ \Vhy didn’t you send me wor ?’

“ Oh! I thought I’d look, myself, first.”
The noble old captain had searched until he'
, I was nearly exhausted, himself, but he tried to
t; ' draw attention from that subject by suggesting
- that they carry Mrs. Crapo to the cotta at
once. She had fainted from hunger andfird-
 , sbi , but even Vincent could see that her con-
 “if ditlhn was not hopeless.
r . They lifted and bore her away, while Hector
7 ~‘ ' leaped around them and barked his joy in dog
‘ inshion.
. . “ There’s an animal out of a million!” declared
 , the ex—sailor, adniiringly. “ I Was mighty mad
1.’ at him when you showed 11 , for, even when I
:‘~ v chanced upon them, he won dn’t let me come
. l , near her; but I, reckon he has a heart of oak.
1; j): Funu’y, though, why he let you have your
- way!

it". .

“ He knows me of old.” _

Vincent’s mind went in fanc , for a moment,
to the many walks Hector ha taken with him
and Veva, but soon returned to the present
scene.

What if his mother should not recover?

The possibility made him shiver; he would
not think of it.

. The short distance to the cottage was soon
 traversed. The home-00min was at once

' filament and sad, forNina and ag ecould not

,f‘ ileve that any hope remained; at, just as
 they had arranged the wanderer in bed, the
2?. j doctor unexpectedly arrived and took charge of
the case.
H ' He worked so well that, inashort time, Maggie
.‘, ' ‘came to Vincent with the report that the unfor-
’. .tunate had re ained consciousness and was in
 , her right mi , but the doctor prudently gave
 . her a sleeping-powder and prohibited unneces-
sar conversation.
“4  . ' ewes emphatic in his assertion that. in all
'  Embabilit , she would progress favorably, and
cap! in rested, he remained to watch and
 " core, or her.
a When her wretched garments had been re
 ‘5 moved a package of papers had fallen out.
, gaggle had then cast all aside quickly, but she
, Hal 5‘ brought the package to Vincent.
_ h ‘ He examined the papers curiously, and soon
i. . became deeply interested. , '
L '  They were, first. the death-certificates from
.Cuba; second, the marfinge-certiflcate; and,
third, other papers of unggestionable value.
a, ' . The detective was asto lied. How bad they
< cpme into his mother’s ioni He was
sure the had not had them previous to her re-

Is
 He started as the conviction came to him that,
who had entered the Thomholm mansion and
taken them away. He remembered how her
,mindlhad dwelt u n the conviction that they
,, ‘;.wonld be found a Crapo’s trunk; he remem-
w» , gbered the broken lock of that trunk;
* .‘  It was a startling Mummy, and he won-
 how the work had been done. Then
 the suddenly recollected the evening, when in

l

 

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wroommehadheardelounduifof a ME:

 

 
 

gle~snmething he had then attributed to the

' servants.

Was it then the papers had been taken? Had

‘the mad-woman gone there and encountered

some one else? He thought of Crapo’s sudden
hunting freak with fresh concern.

“ By heavens! I believe the arch-plotter has
an inkling of the truth. This complicates inat—
ters, and calls for haste in our crusade. So be
it; the blow shall fall speedily. Justice shall
not be delayed!”

As he thought this a shadow fell on the floor,
and, looking up, he saw Berenice Royalstou at
the door.

It was a mutual surprise, but with her the
emotion was slight, and she smiled while he yet
stood looking blankly and suspiciously. What
had brought her there?

“W'hy, Mr. Vincent,” she said, lightly, “I
did not expec: to meet an acquaintance here.”

The remark deepened the mystery; he was
more than ever puzzled to know why she came.

“ Those who live here are my friends,” he re-
plied, quietly.

“Indeed! Then, garbaps, you can tell me
if there is a Miss orcross here-Nina Nor-
cross?”

“ She is in the next room. Shall I inform her
that you wish to See her?”

“ If you will, Mr. Vincent.”

“ Please be seated, Miss Royalston. I’ll go, at
once.”

She complied with the invitation, and he
passed inside to see his sister. A word of caution
might be necessary before she talked too freely
with the visitor.

He had always felt deep respect for Berenice.
but she was Roland’s betrothed and, as all
fair faces were not reliable, it might be she had
visited the cottage as a. Spy for the rulers of
Thornliolin.

All this he explained to Nina, but she was far
from shrinking from the ordeal. She had the
brave nature that was a Thornholm birthright,
and she resolved that if the fine lady of Royal-
ston had come as an enemy, she would outwit
her in a contest of minds.

“I don’t like to think ill of her. but, if she
asks about our mother, deny all knowledge of a
lonely wanderer,” cautioned Vincent. “ Ed-
w0rd Crapu mus not trap us.”

“This woman will get no clew from me,”

Nina declared, steadily.

She went out and confronted Berenice.

The latter rose at once.

They regarded each other in curiosity and
hostility as only women can. It was a war of
glances!

 

CHAPTER XXX.
ran FRENCHMAN STRUGGLES TO GAIN LIGHT.

THERE was inquisitive inquiry with both, but
the hostility was all on Nina’s side. After the
first shar . curious survey, Berenice smiled
kindly an graciously, and her companion felt
her doubts and enmity melt away. '

Many persons had declared that Miss Royal-
r'ston was cold and road, but none had ever
denied that she con (1 be charming when with
those for whom she felt friendship.

Nina looked deeper than the surface, and was
favorably impressed at once.

On her own part the heiress saw a girl who,
despite her lowly surroundings, had every mark
which goes to stamp one of noble and refined
nature. Hence Berenice's smile was impulsive,
and she kind! explained:

" I was loo in for Miss Norcross.”

“ I am Nina orcross.” I

“ Then in search is ended, and I am sure we
shall”be friends, My name is Berenice Royal-
ston.’ '

“ I am pleased to see you, though I will say
frankly that the call was unexpected.”

“Very likely, and, on my part, I had never
heard of you until Very recently. Of course
Lou are wondering why I am here, and I will

sten to explain. Pardon me if I act my
nature and begin with an abrupt question: Are
you acquainted with agentleman named Roland

hornholm’l” . . .

Nina flushed.

“ l have seen the—Mr. Thornhol‘m, I mean.”

“ I hope you will not think me too presuming
if I venture to ask more concernin him. First,
however I will be frank and say t at I uni—his

romised wife. I thought I had reason to be-

ieve he was acquainted with you.”

“ You are mistaken, Miss Royalston, for,
though he, has twice been at, or near, our cot-
tage, I don’t like him well enough to be an ac-
quaintance.”

Nina spoke with considerable emphasis as she
remembered the persecutio of the man to
whom they referred, and renice was con-
vinced. _ .

“ I’ve been absurd, but I accidentally became
the r of a note which I thought was
written by you. and to— But you shall see!” '

She extended the pa r as she spoke, and one
glance was enough for int: to identif it.

“You are ri ht in one respect 133 Royal-
ston,” she all? tted quietly. “I wrote this
note, but not Mr. Thornholm, nor does itin
any way refer to him.” ’

Then I havean

  

 

 

 

  

Berenice spoke in a tone of disappointment,
but, after a. little meditation, looked up sud-
denly.

“I am afraid you will be angry, Miss Nor-
cross, but will you tell me why you don’t like
Mr. 'l‘horuholmi"

Nina was observing, and had become im-
pressed with the idea that the visitor would be
glad to learn something not fawn-able to R0-
land; and also, she remembered hearing~ Vin-

’ cent say that Berenice was too noble a girl for

Roland.

“ You are his betrothed, Miss Royalston,” she
suggested.

“ I am not sure that I am glad of that fact,”
re lied Berenice, with some embarrassment.
“ certainly would like to know him thor-
onghly."

Nina could doubt no longer, and, in a sim is,
quiet way, she told how Roland had trie to
force his attentions upon her.

Berenice listened in silence, but the increase
of color in her face indicated that trouble was
brewmg for some one.

“ Miss Norcross,” the heiress made answer,
“ you do not knew how grateful I am for your
frankness. 1 engaged mvself to Mr. Thoruholm
in a moment of—of—well, I may say, of reck-
lessuess; and have more than once doubted the
wisdom of my course. Now that I know him
capable of persecuting one of my sex, I shall not
hesitate to break the engagement!”

There was relief in her voice and expression,
and Nina did not seek to excuse Roland.

“ Do you know,” Berenice abruptly added,
“ that on remind me Very much of a gentle-
man I now?”

“Indeed! May I ask who it is?”

“ Mr. Vincent!”

Nina remembered her brother’s warning, and
was momentarily confused, but she arose and
replied:

‘ He must hear you say that himself.”

Going to the door of the inner room, she
called the detective, who came at once, and
then she repeated the remark.

“The resemblance loses its strangeness,” he

ravely remarked, “ when it is known that
.L ins. and I are sister and brother.”

“ Is it possible?”

“ Possible and true.” .

“ But your surnames are not alike.”

“Captain Norcross was a second husband,”
Vincent responded, ambiguously.

Berenice found herself interested in‘ this fam-
ily of the Wood, but the day was fast drawing
to an end, and it would not do for her to delay.
She asked permission to call upon Nina again,
and then Vincent escorted her to the river,
where two negroes were waiting with a heat.

When she was gone he remembered, for the
first time, his promise to make a home for Veva
at the cottage. He shrunk sensitively from
speaking on the subject, fearful that Nina
would suspect his mad love, but, summoning all
of his resolution, he told the story with an-
rufiled calmness. He ex lained how kind and
noble Veva was, and i ina was convinced,
without gaining the dreaded sus icion.

She had taken a natural dis ike to the girl
who was filling the place‘righti'ully her own,
but she bad faith in her brother’s judgment.

I “ Let her come, by all means,” was the reply:
and Vincent had never cared more for his sister
than then.

At that moment the doctor came out of Mn.

‘Crapo’s room.

“ Will you go in and see our Frenchman?” he
asked, addressing Vincent. “ I feel sure of the
lady’s case and can almost swear she will full
recover, but the man isa puzzle. He is on his

.feet but has the mind of an infant.”
“ Will not strength of mind come with
stren th of body?” asked the detective.
“'lfiiat is whatI hope for. Maggie Warner
tells me that the man walked outside the cottage
this morning, and took notice of objects aroun

him.

“He did,” Nina added. “He looked at the
trees and river, muttered a little, and appeared
to take childish pleasure in them.”

“Icon see no reason why he should not re-
Cover fully.” continued the doctor.” Desperate-
ly ill as he has been, his mind ought not to be
premanently‘ affected.”

“ I’ll go in and see him,” replied Vincent.

They entered.

The nameless Frenchman, still pale, but look-
ing much better than be had formely done, sat
by a window, nbsently watching a bird in a
neighboring tree. He turned his head quietly,
and then brushed his hand across his forehead,
as if dark shadows were lurking t ere. The
doctor, howevor, noticed that his eyes ad grown
brighter and sharpen

“ Ah! my friend, how are We?” the medical,

man asked.

“ I am quite Well, but—but, do I know you?
Your face is familiar, but I can’t remember
where I’ve seen you.” _

The doctor was slated. His patient not only

he with a degree of coherence, but had, for
t s first time, used English.

“ My name is Marston, but you now have the
advantage of me. I’ve seen you frequently, but
I don’t know your name.” ' '

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The unknown hesitated, and then again put
his hand to his forehead.

“This is strange; I can’t think of my name.

‘\\'h 't does it mean? Am I losing my memory l”

“ Oh! no; not in the least; such things fre-
uuontly occur. Let me see your pulse, please.”

‘ Murston had no desire to have his patient
Worry himself over a name, as yet. There was
a marked gain, and he must be savcd from all
excitement.

The Frenchman quietly submitted to an ex-
amination, while Vincent watched him thought-
fully. Who was the man, and whnt his
story? From the time when Captain Norcms
drew him from the river, senseless and nearly
dead, he had never spoken a name. He had
mutt-cred vaguely in French, and that was all.

What was the history of the knife—wound that
had so nearly taken his life? It might have been
a. case of attempted suicide, but that was not
probable. Some dark drama might be connect-
ed with it; perhaps some case which involved
high-born persons; but, judging by the rank in
life to which the man evidently belonged; it was
more likely that he had been the Victim ofa
mere broil.

The detective’s practical conclusion'received a
blovdv as the Frenchman suddenly raised his
hea .

“ Do you know Roland Thornholm?” he asked.

Vincent started. ,

“ Yes; there is such a man.” replied the
doctor. “ Are you acquainted with him i”

“I don‘t know. The name is in my mind, and
I think—yes; I’m sure I want to find him. I
was searching for him when—whcn—something
happened! Yes; and I believe I did see him,
too. When and where? I can’t tell. It’s in my
mind, but, when I try to grasp it, it squirms
about like a serpent and is gone i” -

“ Don’t try: all will soon be clear,” was the
doctor’s soothing reply. “ Take time!”

I \Vincent had started forward, anxious to en-
courage this struggling mind, this transient,
clouded gleam of recollection; but he realized
the wisdom of the doctor’s advice. A great of-
fort then might prove disastrous.

“‘I think I’ll go to sleep,” continued the French-
man, “ but, look ye! I don’t want Roland
Thoriiholm to know I’m here. My mind is up—
set, but I feel as if there is something which, if
he should learn it, he would try to— But it's
gone; all gone!”

He settled back with a hopeless look, and the
doctor hastened to give him a sleeping-potion.

“ Go to bed, my friend, and you will be all
right when you awaken,” he urged, and assisted
the man to obey the direction.

Vincent looked closely at the Frenchman.
What secret was brooding in his darkened mind?
—-what did he know of Roland Thornholm?

“ I can only wait for his own lips and time to

tell,” was the inevita le decision.

They left the patient alone and went to the
main room.

“ There is a very perceptible gain," asserted
the man of medicine.

“ Will it continue?”

“ I believe it will.”

“ But his mind may remain obsc'ured’i"

“ I see no reason why it should. He had a.
bad case of brain fever, and the role. at a,
critical period nearly carried him 01!. $3.. he
is getting some bodi y strength, but his mind is
uncertain. look _to see a gain there, at once.
It may be gradual; it may be. sudden-he ma
rouse from sleep With all his faculties bach

in. The case is of interest, and I’m glad I
mad to Norcross’s wishes and kept utter
silence. , The man may have a history.

With this remark the speaker took his de-
parture. _

Night was near at hand, and Vincent only re-
mained toconsult with Nina and Maggie. All
161‘ “165 thefay for striking the blow was close
to hand. Crapo again recovm‘ed her
senses it Would be Indentm wait for no more
than sufficient bod ly stren on her part.

The detective did not don t that she had been
inside the Thornholm mansion and he had an
unpleasant fear that Edward drapo knew more
than was safe.

If he had gained a claw, the wron
could find safety only in his do'wnf .

CHAPTER XXXI,
THE omws SEEK REVENGE.

VINCENT had gone only a few rods when he
heard soft footste behind him. Turning, he
saw the Newfound and dog, Hector. .

Hector, too, coins to a stop, and there was a
world of in uiry in the gaze be bent u the
secretary. qus big brown eyes were 1 of in-
terrogat on marks, and matters of t import
seemed strng flag in his honest mind.

A flood of gratitude swept over Vincent.
Since bismutherwas returned to the come

woman

 

\ hahad forgotten the dog, but both he and his

services, as far as known, were remembered

now.

He did not know as ct of that thrilling scene
ouBlack Acre, when Hector had saved the mad-
woman from instant death, but he had been her
companion in her wanderings, and had proved
his evotion With the secretary as an eye-wit-
new.

I

 

The latter iiow tried to express his gratitude,
and caressed the big animal’s shaggy head Vir-
(ironsl y.

“ Good Hector!” he exclaimed. “ Noble fel-
10wl Where would I and my cause be had it
not been for your help? How much I owe you
I don’t know, but your devotion is beyond ques-
tion. You and I were always good friends, and
if I ever win my battle you shall not be forgot-
ten. There shall always be a place in my home
for you, Hector, and the best of all things dear
to your kind shall be yours!”

It was not to be supposed that Hector under-
stood cach word of this grateful address, but he
did comprehend the import of part of it.

When, in the past, he saw Vincent taken into
Veva’s good graces he had opened his own big
heart to the secretary. He thought Well—very
Well—of the man, and did not hesitate to make
it known. .

Now his tail vibrated; he ran out a long tongue
to reciprocate in the way of good-will, and in
various (log fashions testified that he understood
and accepted the situation.

Time was precious, however, and after a short
delay Vincent told Hector to follow him and
continued on his way.

His thoughts turned upon more important
matters, and he did not think of his dumb com-
pa nion for some time. When he did, and looked
for him, the dog had disappeared.

Hector seemed fully capable of caring for him-
self, and the secretarv did not try to find him.

A little further on Vincent had to pass through
a pine grove. He was doing this without any
thought of danger when he suddenly received a
blow which felled him, half-unconscious, to the
ground. Before he could rise two men pounced
upon him, and in avery short time he was bound
and helpless.

Before he had recovered his senses fully he
had been tied.to a tree and was incapable of de-
cisive motion.

Looking, he saw Drake Hodge and Black Tuck
before him.

The outlaws did not improve in looks with the
passage of time. When they took their un-
willing plunge in the mud at the foot of Black
Acre knoll they had been completely coated with
dark mud which adhered almost like ,glue, and
constitutional aversion to the process of bathing
had led them to let the stuff alone.

The result was that two more disreputable-
iooking persons had never been seen in Vir-

inia.
g Vincent’s thoughts were not on their clothes,
however; he realized that be was in danger.

The outlaws had received more than one
severe, though deserved, lesson at his hands in
the past, and their evil, gloating looks, now, in-
dicated that it was with no idle object they had
tied him to the tree.

Hodge laughed hoarsely as he saw that the
prisoner’s mind had become clear.

“ Hvar ye be, pretty boy i" he declared.

“ What do. you mean by tying me up in cuts
way i”

“ We mean business; don’t we, Blackeyl”

“ IVs do, for cuah,” the negro agreed.

9‘ I demand my liberty, at once!" .

“ You kin take it out in demandin’."

“ Do you refuse to set me free?”

“ Bet yer life i”

“ What good will it do you to hold me pris-
oner? I have no money— -

A dark look up red on Hodge’s face, and he
run hly interru :

“ 9 don’t want yer money; we couldn’t use
it of we had it. We want you! ”

u Why?”

“ We want revenge l”

“ Oh! that’s where the shoe pinches?"

“ It’s whar the shoe pinches cu. I ”

“ What do on intend to do '

“ Pay of! o d debtsl Don’t We, Black Tuck?”

The neglro burst into loud laughter which,
however , ad no merriment in it.

“ i-yi- i!” he cried. “You are a caution,
Bru der aka; you should be in de'Senatoi-i'um.
Yes. yes, we-‘uns is wine to pay of! 01‘ debts!”

“ Start the fun, B ackeyl”

Hodge whipped out an ugly-looking knife, and
Vincent expected thabtho end was tocome at
once. But the onthiws did not intend to lose the
chance for sport.

Each drew his knife, and they took position a,

short. distance away.
“ NOW; mad“! 1 ’ cried the white outlaw.
The knives whirled through the air, and Vin-
cent expected them to pierce his flesh but when
it was over, the weapons were stickin in the
broad tree, one on each side of him, andg so close
that‘the handles almost touched his body. -
Black Tuck again laughed in his erratic way,
but Hodge ban a scowling glance upon their
helpless prisoner. .
' Ketch on, critter?” he asked. " We are
some on the knife-throw; we be! I kin cut a
linger-nail off from you an’ never’draw blood.
We are goin’ ter show yer our skill. We begin
light, yer see, but we shall draw our knives
higher as we go on. Later, wo’ll pin your flash
ter the tree, an’ When we hev’ hacked yer all u ,
we’ll administer the cup dc grass. Ketch on ,
Vincent was not at a loss to understand.
Onlytoowoll he sawthat the outlaquan

\

 

by memory of previous humiliations at his
hands, intended to torture him after the style
of Indian warfare, and then end the affair by
disposing of him forever.

And he was perfectly helpless.

“ I warn you not to continue this!” he answer-
ed sternly.

“ Oh! you do?”

‘6 I do. ll

“ You beg fur mercy, eh i”

“ I do not, but I advise you to have mercy on
yourselves. It you molest me, your lives will
pay the forfeit. Release me!”

Hodge hollowed one hand and held it back of
his eIaIr, ger’otcsquely pretending not to have heard.

‘ 0y .

“ Release niel”

“ You’ll hev ter speak an artoni louder fur my
ears ain’t “’ot they wuz fur keenness.”

“ Hi-yi!” laughed Black Tuck. “ VVe-’uns is
heviu’ a pile 0’ fun out 0’ dis yere 'fnir!”

“ T’row another knife, Blackey!”

Again they took position; again the knives
sped to the mark; and one of them actually
pinned Vincent’s coat sleeve to the tree.

From that time the outlaws let themselves
loose from all restraint. They taunted the de-
tective; talked of the fate in store for him;
boasted of their past crimes, and, indulging in
absurd antics and more absurd words, inter-
spersed the knife-throwing with acrobatic
somersets and other freaks.

But not for a moment did their malevolence
relax.

As they grew tired of absurdity they evinced a
disposition to end the affair, and Hodge ordered
Tuck to throw the knives to hit, thereafter.

Again they took their places; again the knives
went up; but there was a sudden diversion.

A big dark object appeared from behind a tree,
and, a moment later, Hodge was borne to the
ground by its weight and the impetus of a.
spring.

Then he lay sprawling with the new actor in
the scene crouched above.

It was Hector!

Hodge was terrified. He was not calm
enough to know what manner of a beast had
assailed him, and, having lost his knife, he
could only lie where he had fallen and await
what he thought would be sure death. Fright
rendered him speechless.

Black Tuck bad prudently retreated, but,
when he saw that he had only a dog to contend
with, be advanced to the attack, knife in hand.
Hector watched him with glittering eyes.

“thoa, darl” the negro directed. “Keep
skill, an’ l’ll cut yer—”

Hector sprung at him like a panther. Tuck
aimed a blow, missed his aim, and then felt the
dog’s teeth in his shoulder. He bellowed with
pain and terror. Hodge sprung up and tried to
take part in the affair, but Hector was ready
for him. There was another rush, and the
white outlaw we t down. Strong teeth closed
Over his neck, an be tainted with terror.

By that time Black Tuck was in headlong

flight. Perhaps Hector realized the situation. ,

He left Hodge and went to Vincent’s Side; be
seized the cords in his teeth and tore at them
vigorously; Vincent was soon free.

Again he owed his deepest gratitude to Hec-
tor, and he felt that the words of praise he be-
stowed upon thnt noble animal were but weak. .
The dog seemed satisfied, however. ’

Examination showed that, though Hodge had
received marks he would always carry, he was
not dead or likely to die.

Vincent had no time to devote to prosecuting
him when matters of so much greater import-
ance demanded his attention. He left the fellow
where he lay, and, again accompanied by Hec-
tor, set out for Thornholm. -

Exciting and perilous as the late scene had

been, it soon almost fadui from his mind. “mic , 5

future dwarfed the past.

CHAPTER XXXII.
ROLAND oars nvro moans.

I

 

Vmcnivr made all possible haste during the

remainder of his journey. If Edward Crapo’c
suspicions were amused his prolonged absence

would serve to strengthen the suspicion, and he 

was anxious that when the blow was struck it
should be sudden and unexpected.

When he emerged from the wood he noticed
that Hector  again disappeared, nor did his
efforts 8{prevail upon his dumb ally to make him-
self vi ble.

Hector had not forgotten the encounter at 7 1
Black Acre, and did not intend to venture near '

Cram.

Darkness had fallen by the time the detective ': ’

reached the vicinity of the house, but, to his

0

surprise. be found Veva outride.

I was watching for you," she 

hesitatinizly.

fa" Is it got rash l” he cubed, hurriedly. “ Your. .

.F— a
“ have: me in my room. ill with a_

and my door is looked. Oh! Mr. V incent,
makes me so wretched to take such a com
All by life I have despised hypocrisy and 66’
oeit, and now I am treading the devioum
I can hardly believe I am myself, but, w‘

I have done, all is due to—to Mr. Crapo. I can-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

  

 

    

_L

Dangerous Dave.

 

 

de 01’ massa take Ler huntin’ oh late! In all do
yeahs he’s been at Thornholm, [never knew him
ter go out wid a gun, or on a hunt, until the last
few days. Fuck is, he neher like anything like
work. But, all ob a sudden, he’s got a regular
passion for it, sah.”

The old negro did not suspect how interesting
he had made his remarks.

“ Are you sure they have gone hunting?” Vin-
cent asked, with sudden uneasiness.

“ Yes, snh; dey took guns an’ do big hounds,
an’ oil? dey went, bright; an’ early.”

“ Which way?”

“ Down dar!”

The negro leveled his hoe, and it bore upon the
southeastern swamp. If Vincent had drawn a
line to the Norcross cottage, he could not have
made it more correct than the one thus described
by chance.

The detective was startled. He knew very
well that Edward Crapo had not gone to seek
ordinary game, and there was only one theory
to be inferred from the “ hunt” of a man who
cared nothing for the pleasures of the chase.

Vincent’s friends were menaccdl He knew
not whether it was his mother 'or sister, or both,
but, in fancy, he saw the evil twain creepin
upon the cottage weapons in their hands an
murder in their hearts.

He did not linger with the old negro any.
longer, but, excusing himself, walked away.
He went at moderate speed until he had put a
grove between him and Thornholm, and then

I hastened along in the same way Crapo and Ro-
land had taken.

He carried a pistol, and did not hesitate to
defr the odds against him.

When he reached the swamp he let nothing
turn him from his course, but kept on toward
the cottage. It was no short journey, but it
was made in time which outdid all of his pre—
vious efforts.

When he caught sight of the little building be
swept an anxious glance around, and it was a
sight most agreeable to his eyes when he beheld
good old Captain Norcross sitting in the door-
way, placidly smoking.

0 crossed the clearing, and the ex-sailor
waved his big brown band. .
“ Ahoy, my boy! how goes it? Come to in-
uire about the good mother, I’ll be sworn.
ell. she’s surprisingly well and strong, and

our Nina is in having a regular woman’s con--

tab with her.”
Crapo had not been there? Where was he?

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
'rrm DOUBLE saor IN THE SWAMP. .
THE detective advanced with a lighter heart.
“ So all is well, here?” he in aired.
“Ali’s serene. my boy. our mother sur-
_ prices as all. Her mind is as clear as abell,
’ and, much to our surprise, she has none of the

" .. physical exhaustion which followed 'her first

I

 », Hector.

 sudden suspicion.
’ and had loaded all‘of his weapons, but had seen

‘ I she has to d of one thing which

' ,ho‘rr

 

return to reason. She is sitting up, and, I
yerin believe, could well endure a jaunt out of
I’ve been thinking of giving her a ride
- inmv boat.” ‘
“ Has any one been here?”
“ Nobody but the doctor.”
“ Have you seen any men prowling around?”
“Men? No. What men?’
Captain Norcross asked the question with
He had been on the alert,

.no One.
“.Crapo and Roland have gone on a hunt,
,so called,” explained Vincent, “but I suspect
that they are after human game. I fear they
‘have learned who is in this cottage, and intend
mischief—though, to be sure, they ought to have
been here before, if my theory is correct.
” They’ve had time enough. ’
The ex-sailor’s face had changed‘exprcssion
suddenly. "
“ I don’t think they know what treasures this
cottage holds. More likely. lad, they are search-

ing for your mother in the swamp.’

That is‘quito likely.”
our mother’s return consciousness
he remembers
Vaguely. I hesitate to reveal it to you, but it
, must hedone.” ,2 v

“Go on. by all means.”

"She thinks that she visited Thornholm-
and, of course, she did, or she woald not have
«had the papers—and was seen by Crapo. Be
that as it may, he afterward came to her in a
but on a swamp knoll—be ond doubt, Black
Acre-and, armed with n. nife, tried to kill
Of course she could not have resisted
alone, but she had a defender there: the dog
He fought Crapo, beat him off, and
’pnt him to flight. But for that, your mother
would have died by an assassdn’s hand!” ,-
_ Vincent’s eyes were flashin with anger,
and it was some time before is could speak
calmly, but, when he did, he realich what

'9‘ Since

I .‘a Jliéabt of gratitude he owed to the Newfound-

, as... the dog has; disggéarsd,” he added,
5; ‘f and, may have been kill y Crapo."
~l_ “Hector is here,” NorcrOSs repied, smiling.

 a dog for wisdom. Hector has gone‘.

against Crapo, and he’s not going to trust him-
self within the fellow’s reach again."

“ if I win the battle," asserted the detective,
gratefully, " there is nothing too good at
'I‘hornliolm for his Use. He saved my life, as
1 well know, but his defense of my mother
Cups the climax. The noble animul shall re-
ceive all the care, and favors that my ingenuity
can invent, in the future.”

The appearance of Nina interrupted them.

“ The day and the hour are almost come!”
she declared, unsteadily, when greetings were
()Vt’l'.

“ 'l‘he dav for us to strike!”

“ Yes. Our mother is surprisingly strong,
and she declares that there umst he no unneces—
snry delay. She has advised that l goaway,
secure a carriage and horses, call upon such of
her old friends as she can trust, and organize
them to take part in the final blow.”

“ A wise plan."

“ She thinks that the blow should fall to-
morrow.”

“ So soonl She will not be able to go there.”

“ She says that she will.”

“ I shall be left alone,” added Norcross: “I,
and our Frenchman. By the way, he improves,
too. He’s asleep now, and it wouldn’t surprise
me tp see him wake up with a brainy head on
him.’

“ Captain,” said Vincent, abruptly, “ i think
there are river-men near here who can be hired.

\Am I right?”

“ There are plenty of them.”

“ I want three engaged at good pay, and have
them stay here constantly until the danger is
over.”

” A good idea, my boy; a good idea!”

“ How soon can you get them here?”

“ In half an hour.”

“ Will you go at once?”

“ Gladlyl and I’ll bring hearts of oak who can
be neither bribed nor scared.”

N orcross went away in his boat, and the
detective entered the house to pass the interven—
in ' time. I /

1He was agreeably surprised to see how well
and strong is mother was, both physically and
mentally; and he thought the had reason to be-
lieve the prophecy of Doctor arston that there
would be no recurrence of her malady.

She urged prompt action, and it was decided
that Nina should go andjrytoenlist some of the
legal Mrs. Crapo’s old friends, so that the claim-
ants would not have every one against them in
the fight.

Norcross returned bringing three men who
looked fully capable of defending the cottage
and its inmates from hostile prowlers, and then
the detective again turned his face toward
Thornholm.

As he entered the wood he muttered:

“ The time draws near. Veva will soon hate
and deSpiSe me!”

It was not a ha(ppy mood for a prospective
victor, but he was etermined to shield her in
every way possible; to give her money, home
and s mpathy, if she would accept them; and
to do iis utmost to lessen the force of the cruel
blow she would receive when the legal Mrs.
Crapo was shown to be livmg.

Vincent forgot that Crapo and Roland were
on a death-hunt, and his homeward journey
Would have been one of mechanical motion,
merely, had it not been for a sharp diversion
midway. V

The report suddenly broke upon the air of
what seemed to be a heavily-charged gun, and
then there was a heavy fall not far away.

At that point there was a. heavy undergrowth
of pine bushes, and Vincent had no clew to what
hat occurred, but he was strongly of the opin-
ion thqt caution mi ht not be out of place.

He remembered t e hunters of human game.

He began to push his way cautiously through
the undergrowth, but had gone only a few steps
when he alniOst came face to fees with Crapo
and Roland. Ho let the bushes which he had
parted swmg quickly into position, to nVoid dis-
covery, but the other men were looking else-
where. l ‘ ’

They paused only a few feet away, and both
gazed at something on the ground.

“ What’s up?” Roland demanded.

“ I’m a dead man!" mumbled an unseen
speaker. ,

“Did your gun go off by accident?”

“ My gun didn’t do it.”

“ W hose did?” " 7

There Was a pause, and Vincent again parted
the bushes in order to get a better View. On
the ground lay a man whom he at once recog-
nized as Drake Hodge
latter was hesitating),

“ Go look by the i
w’ot or find than”

R0 and walked to the point indicated, but
quickly returned.

‘ You vs lost your right hOWer,” he answered.
” Black Tuck s over there, dead as a stone l”
Hodge groaned dismally.
“ I thought so!"
' “bid you fight?” .
“ "runs an accident.” ‘
" How did it ha pen?”

l

the swamproutlaw. The
but he finall answered:
g tree yender, an’ tell me

 

   

The outlaw l «1 at the questioner, moved
‘_ 'Vfir-'§\L.A‘-" I" i. ‘,

     

   

 

~ against her. She must matter with the rest.

   

his hand feebly toward a knife which lay near
him, and then allowed the nervelcss hand to
fall.

” No llscl”"l10 muttered, hoarsely. “ I’m done
fur, un’ I’ll soon foller Black Tuck. Thar won’t
be. so much truck stole around hynr, fur me an’
Blackey is done with it now. We was a-stillin’
fur game, an’ in the bushes we each mistook
t’other fur the game. We fired. i killed p001"
Blockcy dead, an’ he give me. my death-hurt. I
wish we had hit our game!”

The outlaw turned his dim eyes upon Roland.

“ What was the name?” the ilanter asked,

“ It was you .’ ” Hodge dcciarcd. “ lilackey
an’ me llll(l sworn to kill tuo men vse hated—-
Walter Vincent an’ you. He licked us, an’ you
Set the dogs on us at Black Acre. Hev you for—
got that.a We never forgot it, an’ We, snore tcr
fix ye for it. We seen yer, a bit ago, in the
swamp, an’ still-hunted yer, but We made a‘hor—
rihle mistake, nn’nOW—I’in goin’ with Blrickeyl”

The ruflian’s voice had sunk to a feeble whis—
per, and, at the last words, he settled buck and
yielded up his life. He had, indeed, gone to re:-
jom Black Tuck.

“A good job!” declared Edward Crapo.
“Two first-class scoundrels have killed each
other, and the world is the better oil." for the
job.”

“ Zounds! what if they had got a cl'aCk at
me!” returned Roland, nervously.

“I onl wish they had done so at the other
man Hm e says they hated—Vincent.”

“ What sup between him and you?”

“\Ve have had no quarrel.”

“ You are afraid of him.”

“Afraid!” echoed Crapo. “Well, perhaps I
am; but, if so, you have just as much cause to,
dread what he may do.” '

u Why?!)

“ He’s dangerous.”

“Then wind him up!” Roland exclaimed.
“By my life, l’m not in favor of letting any
man lope about who can do us harm. If Vin—
Cent is of that class, put a stopper on him. The
life of a hired man shall not stand between us
and safety; I’ll hold Thornholm, if I have to re-
move a di zen secretaries!” ,

“That’s well s oken,” agreed Crapo, ap-
provingly, “and Ill take you at your word.

o-morrow we will make a final search for the
strangely-missing mad-woman; then we will
pay. attention to Vincent. Come on! Leave
these outlaws where they are; I want to. get‘
back home.” ,

CHAPTER XXXVI.
A REMARKABLE DISCOVERY.

CRAPO and Roland resumed their journey,
little suspecting that the object of their mur-
derous plans had overheard all that they said.

Vincent was not greatly surprised, but the
conversation shOWed that he and his mother
were wise to take action in the case as soon as
possible. Both of the plotters had shown them-
selves desperate meu to whom human life was in
no degree sacred, and time was alone needed to
enable them to carry out some of their plans,
though it was clear that the ex-mad-woman’s
present whereabouts was unknown to them.

Anxious to avert fresh suspicion, the detective
made a detour and, by rapid walking, arrived
at Thornholm ahead of them.

Neither made any attempt tohold conversa-
tion with him during the remainder of the do
and his watchful caution during the night did
not bring to light any attempt to invade his
room. ' :f

The next morning the secretary smiled grimly
as he saw Crapo and Roland again go to the
swamp—to hunt!

The forenoon bade fair to he one of idle incon-
sequence, and, finally, he decnlcd to go for a
walk about the grounds. He had reached the
door of his room, and was Just going into the
ball, when he, saw the second Mrs. Crapo come
out of the old' ortrait-room. A sight so unex-
pected caused h m to stop short. '

The lady was speaking to the negress vi ho ac-
companied her.

“A miserable old den, and the sewer it is
done away with the better. It is a shame to
have such a desirable room unused. It shall be
remodeled and used as a sleeping-chamber.” 

.i But what will be done with the family W : 1.

traits?” asked the nearcss, deeply troubled“,

“They can be cked away in the garret.”

“Oh! you won du’t do that!” a , ‘

“ Why not?”

“ They are the portraits of. the Thornholms—”

“ What of it? Such rubbish .15 not valued
now, and the dead Thornholms will never know
the difference. Roland havo his mother’s
picture in his own room,i he'wishes—which I
doubt—but the rest of the trash goes. to the gar—
ret. Or, perha ,an doused shantym the negro
quarters woul make a. still better place for
them!”

And Mrs. Alice Crapo swept away in a mood
of supreme self-satisfaction, not evsn seeing
Vincent.

The latter was glad that he had overheard this
conversation. He had before known the wom‘
an’s’ evil nature too well to pity her tly but /
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The secretary quietly left the house. r
Having no definite object in view, he walked
on aimlessly until he found himself near the ne-
gro quarters. Then he remembered Phillis, the
aged uegress who had taken such a strong fancy

to li:m, and to whose humble home he had l're- .

qiicntly gone since his l'csidciice at Tlioriiliolm.

Entering, he was greeted by her with her
Usual exhibition of plendii‘e.
had been able to trace the 'l'lioriiliolm L'lllll'ul‘tt’l'~
istics in his bold lace, and as the impression
deepened at (flicikSchePdlllg interview, it set-med
at times :is if the. father of the lost Rosalind u as
back by her side, restored to life and youth.

Several minutes were passed in CUlth‘l‘SathD,
and then they were interrupted by the entrance
of Veva.

“I did not expect to see you, Mr. Vincent,”
she observed, when greetings werc over, “ but it
will make no difference; I am about totell Aunt
Phillis what you know already.”

" is there news, cliile.’ ’ the aged woman asked,
eagerly. “ lf dar is, let me hear it, far sualil”

“There is news, Aunt Phillis,” Veva replied,
as she sat down and rested her own white head
on the dark, wrinkled hand of her old friend.
“ I am going to leave Thornholm.”

l’hillis’s face was a panorama. Surprise and
alarm were :it first visi bio, and then as her active
mind caught at threads of evidence she looked
shrewdly at Vincent and then back to Vt-va.

“You’s gwine ter be married, Chile!” she do- *

clared.
llcr inference had been so plainly expressed

that Vevn’s face flushed for a moment, but the ;

color is as of but transient duration.

“No,” she explained, gravely: “I leave to,

avoid being driven into a marriage.”

“ Driven!" cried Phillis. in excitement. “ Who :

dar’s ter try nn’ uriVe you .3)”

" Mr. Crapo has seln-cced a man he wishes me Q
to marry—one of wealth land worldly position— 3

and he declares that if I do not obey him, I
must leave Tliornholm. I shall forestall his
plans and leave without his knowledge.”
“ Do they dar’ ter do this? Do they— Who
is de man?” -
“ John Jay Lennox.”

“Him? Why, chile, he isn’t fit ter beyour :

servant; he ain’t! I knowed him when he was a

boy. Miss Veva, you’s gwine ter do jes’ ri ht; ,

you run away! But hub you any money? ot
am de fo’inost question.”

“ I have Some, and can earn more.
strong and of good courage.”

“ So you be; strong as a heroine in your own

Iain

‘mind; but jes’ you listen to depl’ woman. De

"world am a hard companion widout you have

, ya- can parents died when you

money, au’ dc moah you have, do better. Now,
1’s got fifteen dollahs saved up against a time
oh distress, an’ do time has come. Bress de
Lord! dat I kin use it far my chilel
Vova, you shall hab do money, an’ I only
wish it wps moah; you shall hab it all !”

Phillis spoke fervently, her wrinkled face.
aglow with zeal and tenderness, and Vincent -

could hardly keep back his words of gratitude.

But Veva’s eyes filled with tears.

“ Oh! Phillis, you are kind, and good and
noble!” the girl declared, tremulously, “but I
cannot take our little savings. Keep it, my
dear friend, or I shall do very well.”

“ ‘_Very well,’ when you’s driven out into de
wide world l”

“ I hope to conquer the world; I must!" i

“ But don’t you go. You stay, an’ assert
your rights—”

“ There can be no peace for me here, Phillis.”

h MW, Crapo ought to be ashamed to ask
you to marry a man you— But what’s he got;
her do wid de nutter,
father!”

“ Not my father?” .‘

“ Not her father in" \

Veva and the secretary spoke almost together,
but, while the former showed more doubt than
surprise, “'nlter Vincent first stood amazed and
startled, and then took a few long steps and
grasped Phillls’s arm. -

“What did you as l” he demanded. “Am
‘1 mad? Are you— hillis, Ipeak plainly. D0
you say that
dau liter?” .

“ do say so, an’ I mean it. Not adrop ob
hit; blood flows in her veins! She,\a Crapo? No,
8a i .[ll 0

Phillis spoke with emphasis, but Vincent was
so confused that it was Vevn who asked the next

" question.

“ Then, in mercy’s name, who am I?”

“You’s de niece ob Crapo’s present wife. but
3 a baby. Dat’s
who‘you be, and Edward pmpo haslno right ter

on who you shall 0 sha’n t marry."
Visitor-Vincent’s face was radiant with joy.
He felt that Phillis had told the truth, and it
was the hip t moment of his life. There
was no bond relationship between Veva and
himself, and-consequomly. no barrier to their

bond of affection;  _
‘ He looked at Va with an expression which
puzzled her, bad she seen it, but,

would ave
., tho bl bewildered, her whole attention was

upon hi! 9. . .
,“ I don‘t understand,” she admitted. “ This
13 a strange story. Tell me all that you know.”

From the first slio -

Miss '

anyhow? Hg ain’ttyer ‘

Veva is not Edward Crapo‘sg

sister whose name was Mildred, and she married l
! (le captain ob a. New York vessel—dc sisters was ;

both poor, then, an’ Alice Would hub been glad
: to make us good a match as Mildred did. Now
‘ comes dc important part: '
l “ Sixteen years ago—yes: it ani'jes’ sixteen—
: Alim- passed dc summer in l’t-iiiisylvany. She
I was Mnssu Crapo’s wife, den, you know, an’ I l
, was dar to do do work. erl, (‘llllt*, (lat sum- i
iiier, in July, dar was a collusion ob two vessels, 1
which means day run togeddcr: :in’ your father
was killed, on \‘our mummy ’most so.

“ l’oor Miss Mildred! She had jes’ strength
enough left tci' come to Miss Alice with her
baby—dais was you, lioney—nn’ ask her sister
ter take it an’ care for it.

“ Miss Alice is cold as an iceberg now, but she
loved her sister, an" she vowed de chile should
be brought up as l‘.’(’l‘ own. Miss Mildred died
a~blessing her an‘ you, chilc, an’ so it was dat
I you come into do family!”

‘ “You are sure of this!” Vincent questioned,
abruptly.

“ Jes’ as sure as dat We-’uns are alibc, n0w,
an’ it kin be proved by folks in Pennsyl-
vany; but nobody here has ever knowed it
but me (111‘ my daughter—she’s dead, now—for

l we was do only ones that went wid Miss Alice,
1 an’ do only ones who could say she (lid not be-
' come a mother, dot summer. Dat am do truth,
au’ Miss Allice an’ Massa Crapo liab nevah had
a single chilc!”

lere sccliictl no longer to be room for doubt,
and chn, glancing at Vincent, was surprised
» to see the look of great joy on his face.

' Little suspecting the vast load which had been
' lifted from his mind, and little suspecting how
!
l

 

 

!
l
l
l
l
!

gloriously bright the future suddenly seemed to
him, she could not understand why the reVela-
tion should affect him so much.

“ Now, doan’ you tell me, Miss Veva,” Phillis
tearfully added, “ dat my chile is to leave Thorn-
holm iieber a rum to see old black aunty.”

Vincent ca med himself with a great effort.
“ What you have told simplifies matters
greatly, Phillis,” he answered, “and I think no
orig parting will be necessary. Let it rest with
1 that. Miss Crapo, please say good-by, now; I
. wish to see you outside.” ’
l Veva bade the aged Woman an affectionate
farewell, and then went with her protector.

She su posed that he wished toadd something
in regar to the plans for her departure, and
all her thoughts were of the story she had heard.
Her movements were mechanical as Vincent
conducted her to‘a seat in the grounds.

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
“ran Fon!~'ranv cons!”

WALTER VINCENT had been thinking rapidly

since the aged colored woman’s revelation.
That reVelation had changed the whole current
of his life. Now, indeed, could he force his
claim at Thornholni with a firm and steady.
hand; the downfall of the present occupants
would bring no stain upon Veva, and, he sus—
t; pected, but little sorrow.
t Between them there was no longer a barrier;
; light had come where all had been dark; and,
with no further cause for concealment, he was
resolvad to speak plainly.

Looking at Veva, than, his emotions almost
overcame him.

How good, and noble, and beautiful she was!

As yet she had seen no great change in his
manner. She was so busily thinking of what
they had heard that she forgot all else. Not
Edward Crapo’s daughter, but an orphan—
alone in the world!

It was a thought which brought a shadow to
her mind, and a ray of sunshine which strug-
gled through the treetop fell upon a face as
sweetly serious as the Madonna’s. .
u “ Miss Vova," observed the Secretary, gravely,

in View of recent developments, I wish to say
that you are not/to be left friendless. I promise
that the heart of my sister shall be open to you;
that she will love and protect you; that all my
friends shall be yours.’ .

“You are very kind, and I shall not fOrget
: it.” She responded, unsteadily. “ I really think,

though. that I had better go to Washington at
once. If I stop at your home, I fear it will be a
kindness I can never repay.”

“ 0n the contrary. you can repay me a thou-
snndfold. You say I have been kind, and that
you will not forget it. To me, Veva, that is a
great reward, but-I dare to ask for more—for
yourself! I ask you to share my home forever
—-m y fortunes, my life, my love! Veva, I think
yon understand. and. as words can but. feeny

 

 

question: Will you be my wife?”

The eventful words were said, and, with thrir
utterance, the young couple may as well be left.‘
alone. Just what was said, further, concerns
no one so much as themselves. ’ 1

Enough that Veva’s reply was all that Vin~
cent could hope for, and that their conversation
an minds ran in one and the same channel.

 

a cloud was removed from the secretary’s
life, and, 'with matters assuming such an aspect,

express mv feelings, let all be contained in one. .

 

it looked as though VeVa w id not long remain
army, from Thornholm 
. ' l , ;

i.

“I know do whole affair. Mrs. Crapo had a I Yet Vincent did not tell her all, and she little

suspected that, in the mansion she was prepar—
ing to leave forever, she might yet reign as 11115—
tress.

In the midst of their conversation a sharp-
fnccd negro had approached from tlit- direction
of the swamp bearing a note, which proved to
be for Vincent.

'i‘caring it Upl‘ll he read quickly, and then
abruptly rose to his fer-t.

It was from Nina, and contained t!;~ glad
news that her mother had regained additional
strength, and was feeling much better than be-
fore in eyery way.

Thc closing paragraph was significant:

“ it is her will that the blow fall without delay.
Come tons at oncc."

For a moment Vincent hesitated, and then
turned to Vevzi.

“ The note is from my sister, and I must lose
no time in going to her. Suppose, Vera, that
something should occur so that those who now
rule Thornliolm should be deprived of their
possessions, and that the estate should go to
some one else—friends of mine—would it bring
you regret?”

“ Your friends are mine, Walter; what pleases
you will please me.”

“Answered like your noble self. Now one
thing more: Will you keep all that has oc-‘
curred a secret?” , '

“ Glad! y E”

“It would be rash to let any one know of
your great discovery.”

“ No one shall kn0w of it.”

“ Enough !" _

They said good-by and separated. He hast-
ened away toward the swamp and Norcross
cottage. He left her too much agitated to go in
at once, but, after a short time, she sought the
house without hearing signs of any unusual
emotion. » ,

Edward Crapo and Roland returned soon
after, but their weary and disappointed manner
told plainly of ill luck.

The latter went to his room immediately, but
Crapo sought his usual resort, the library.

As he dropped into an easy—chair hishand
touched his favorite book, the Life of Na »
icon, but be tossed it aside impatiently. is
mind was too perturbed to dwell even upon that
comforter. Having failed to find any trace of?
the mad~womau, he must necessarily invent new
plans for safety.

He gra(ppled with the problem, but not with
his old eterminatios. A stupefying weight
seemed to be upon him. There was more than
physical weariness, and he found it impossible
to rally.

Time passed. '

Twice be arose and paced the room, but with
out result. His contracted brows never re-
laxed; he did not get the solution in the enigma.

The road of safety did not appear.

On the shelf the hands of the old clack were
marching on. There was motion elsewhere, as
he was, doomed to learn before many hours—

The door finally opened without any warning,
and a lady and gentleman entered. The latter
came first and Crapo frowned as he saw the
secretary, but the lady who followed—

Edward Crapo started up, and then sunk back:
into the chair. ', »

The mad-woman had reappeared in new form;
this quiet, gentle-faced, gra —haired old lady in.
black silk v as very unlike t e wretched inhabi—
tant of. the Black Acre hut—yet they were one
and the same.

“ Mr. Crapo,” coldly pronounced Vincent,
“let me - introduce to you your wife, Mrs.
Crapo!” .,

Conslernation filled the evil-doer’s mind.

Too well he recognized the lady, and her pm-,

once with Vincent proved that the latter was
what the elder man had feared.

The edifica of twenty ears was crumblin ,
around Crapo’s head, but t e very danger sci-v
to bring back his iron will.
pistol in his pocket, but, too wise to invite death

He thought of the 3

on the gallows, he turned to other ways of '

defiance, if not of relief.
He arose with splendid courage, and stood
with a front of icy dignity. '

“ Sir,” he retumed, “ thisvintrusion. and your ‘

preposterous uords, "quire an explanation.”

“ You sha not be denied one."

Vincent spoke with inimitable composure;
and, standing there, face to face—father and
son—it was plan that, much as they differed
in certain ways, they were alike in strong,
powerful minds. . -

“ Proceed, sir!” was the curt reply.

The young man led his mother to a seat.
was strangely calm, but her respect for her blue
band had died years before, and in the new
pride, love and confidence felt for, her son she
found the strength she needed. \

“I am now ready to talk,”
“ I have presentedthis lady as
is your only lawful wife, and Robert Allan
Thornholm's daughter.” , .v

“ Pre teronsl” »

nrsued Vincent.

“ You find it hard to receive the wife youleft; »

deserted, ill and penniless, among strangers”,

rs. Crapo. Show ,-.‘

1

,‘~

st;  

 

 

    

‘nbx s x _ a; agar-:uaz‘aeatsse 

v «a ..
w.

.sv- "

.r ....~ . I“..-

n“-..m _

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I Thornholm.

‘ scheme so dastardlyl’

 

.28

Dangerous Da've.

 

 

“ She seems to have prospered.”

“ No thanks are due you. At this late time of
life, Mr. Crapo, you have to learn that it is
dangerous to trust delicate work to others.
Alarmed by the fever you fled to Savannah.
From there you deigned to write a letter asking
Whether your wife had lived or died. You
received certificates of death and believed,
wherein you were foolish. Instead of decreas-
ing, mw frail and feeble life was added to your
famin in that hospital; Mrs. Crapo became the
mother of an infant daughter!”

“ i’laiuly, your talent lies in romancing.”

“ You will find me practical enough.”

“ Pray, Why should the hospital people send a
bogus certificate of death?”

“ The ellow fever had created hopeless cin-
fusion. E) that crisis one person’s identity was
confused with another.”

“ Elaborater explained !”

“ And truthfully, as I will yet prove.”

The men looked each other in the face, strong,
firm, thorougth hostile, yet without any sign
of emotion. Each recognized “ a foeman worthy
of his steel,” and the battle was stubbornly
contested.

The natural firmness of Vincent’s nature had
been perfected by detective experience, and he
was able to meet Cra 0 without a tremor.

The latter shruggc his shoulders.

‘9 Proceed!” he directed.

“ Your deserted wife has come to claim her
Own.”

“ Sir, I do not know what im ulse leads me to
sit here and listen to your inso once, instead of
callinga servant to Eject you. Are you mad?
Rofialind Thornholm rapo died a. score of years
ago-died as you say I wrongly thought she did—
in Cuba. It is an insult to me to put forward
this—this lady "-a cold sneer—“as that un-
fortunate woman. Perhaps I may be allowed
to ask who it is that is aiding her claimi—refer-
ring to yourself.”

For a moment Vincent hesitated to make the
claim. Such a father was not to his liking.
Yet, his reply was firm!”

“ I am Roland Thornholm Crapo, your son!”

“ If I remember correctly, there is alread one
young man of that name before the public. ’

“ There is but one genuine, and I am he.”

Perhaps you will tell me upon what you base
youiilpreposterous claim ?"

6‘ on

shall bear upon what I base my just ’

claim.”

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A NECESSARY WITNESS APPEARS.

THE detective glanced at his mother anxiously.
Her calmness reassured him, and he returned to
the attack with fresh strength.

In clear, concise terms he gave the story of the

sat.

' He toll of the arrival of the Crapos in Cuba:
of the prevalence of the yellow fever and illness
of Mrs. Grape and the boy, Roland; of their
desertion by both Grape and Maggie Warner;
of the birth in the hospital of rs. Crapo’s
daughter; and how, subsequently, the mother
had risen in delirium, left the hospital and wan-
dered away, supposed by all to be another victim
of the ocean.

Next, he told of the two children left among
strangers, helpless, friendless and nameless—the
last fact due to the same oni'usion which had
led to the sending of the i correct certificate of
death—and how the children Were seen, adopted
at}? reared by honest Captain Norcross and his
w e. ,»

Finally he told of the return of Maggie “Turner

to Virginia and the revelations which l’oliowod;
of his own visit to Cuba, and the subsequent
events already clear to the reader.

Edward Crapo did not lose his calmness for
a moment: as long as they were unable to prove
who the reigning Roland was, they might not
beuble to prove that he was not the genuine

“ You have woven a very pretty web, sir,” he
answered, steadil , “ but it Will avail ,nothiug.

' If persevered in, it will send you to prison for

blackmail. Madam,” taming to his wife, “ you
haveasomew at refined face. Let me ask in
all seriousn how you can lend yourself to a

Mrs. Crapo turned her gaze upon her son and
w strong.
“ All things are possible,” she returned, with

I scarcely a tremor, “ else I would not believe you

so evil. As fort e, I only desire my rights.’

" You are won rous dramatic!” Ineered Crapo.
“‘ Another great actress lost to the stage. i”

' “ And another Nemesis found for you,” re-
fOrted Vincont. ..

The gaze of father and son a ain met. The
former was in an inward fury. e felt that, his
was a losing cause, and only his great strength
of will kept him up.

He had to meet enemies better equipped than
himself, and one, at least, was as firm. .

Crapo studied his wife’s face.

He wondered if she had any recollection of her
Visit to Thornholm on the occasion when she
secured the on, or of the subsequent scene in
the hut. 1mg: latter was remembered, the

fact that he had drawn his knife upon her would
make the case go hard with him. , ,

 

“ What do you demand i” he asked, abruptly,
again looking at the detective.

“ That you acknowledge your lawful wife and
son.”

“ And what of—of my present wife?”

“ I am sorry for her, but she must of necessity

i, bow to her fare.”

The secretary did pity the woman who had

.Sodreary a life ahead of her, despite the fact

 

that, during his stay at Thornholm, she had
never vouchsafed him more than a haughty
bow.

“ And what of myself?”

“ You will be arrested for attempting to mur-

‘ dei' my mother in the swamp hut!”

Crapo could not avoid a start, and Vincent,
who was sharply watching, smiled gravely.

“ I am willing to compromise with you,” con-
fessod Crapo.

“ Compromise!” echoed Vincent, with sar-
casm.

“ You are infatuated with Veva. Let me go
free, and I will tell you that which Will remove
the barrier between you.”

“ You mean you will confess that, instead of
being your daughter, she is only your second
Wife’s niece.”

Crapo could not repress a muttered curse. Was
he to be beaten at all points?

“ You speak of a compromise,” added Vincent.
“Do on, then, admit that you see before you
your egal wife and son?”

“ Never!”

“ Think a ain!”

“ I say it is false, you scoundrell"

“ Be calm!”

“ Ay, that I will; I’ll call the slaves and have
you ejected. This insolcnce has gone far
enough.”

Crapo arose, but- the secretary put out his

hand.

“ Wait!” he directed, authoritatively.

The elder man paused, held by a will which,
at that moment, was stronger than his own.

“For the last time,” deep] added Vincent,
“ do you acknowledge the justice of our claim?"

Crapo grew ale with anger and fear.

“ Once and or all, I defy you i" he hissed.

“ Enough! I will spare you the trouble of
calling your servitors."

Speaking quickly, he went to the door and
opened it slightly. Two powerful men entered,
and walked directly toward Crapo. He read
their character at a glance, but faced them with
wonderful courage.

The crisis had come, and again he rose supe-
rior to all weakness.

“ Edward Crupo,” uttered one, “ you are our-

prisouer! We arrest you on the charge of as-
sault with intent to kill 1”

For an instant the gaze of the accused turned
upon his wife; then he folded his arms across his
breast.

“I am a Virginian,” he said, slowly and deep-
ly, “ and I stand within my own home. Beware
how you trouble me!”

Villain that he was, his stand was grand, but
he was not allowed to make capital out of it.

The secretary-detective had not left the door,
and he now threw it wide open and spoke one
word:

“ Eater!”

What followed was amazing. First came
Livingstone and the elder Wallingford, two of
the best-known planters of Virginia, and, close
behind them, other persons of good repute: and
then entered certain others well known to the
reader.

There was he who had been known as Roland
Thornholm, walking between two men and held
by handcuffs; Ca tains Hereford and Norcross;
Veva, iieronico, . inn and Maggie \Varner; and
there. were others who need not be named, some
of whom looked greatly surprised and none too
Well pleased. ,

Veva. was radiant. Berenice, having an ink-
ling of the truth, rejoiced for her friend, but,
once, her gaze wandered to Hereford and her
lips quivered.

Tune had not removed the barrier between
them, and she was wretched.

The captain’scxpression did not indicate that
he-was any happier than Miss Royalston.

Crapo was glaring defiance at the whole
crowd, but reduced to silence by the unexpected
blow. Again Vincent addressed him:

“ We will new resume. You have defied me
to prove my claim, even when I showed you
clear proof on every point save one. That will
now receive attention; I will rove where you
obtained the boy you panned) off as Roland
Thornholm !”

Perspiration broke out on Crapo’s forehead.

t _“ ![ protest against this infamous act!” he
“(5‘ .

“ You can combat the evidence later. ”

“ But I will not submit—”

The muscular man by his side touched his
shoulder.

“ Easy, sir!” he continued.
here!"

A man, black-haired black-eyed and pale.
faced. entered walking between two other men.
His step was slow, but his eyes gleained bright-

“ The law reigns

Y- 9 _ ,
Roland grew deathly pale, and only a great

 

effort enabled him to bear up at all. He recog~
nide the same man he had seen at the Norcross
cottage, and no one knew better than himself
what that meant to him’. He was in deadly
peril, and he had not the strong will and lion
courage of Edward Crapo to meet it.

The latter was lookng (iou'otfuliy, searching-
lv at the new-comer. Vincent broke the silence.
Pointing to Crapo, he directed:

“ Tell what you know about this man!"

He of the black eyes shrugged his shoulders.

“ My name is Jean Aubreyz and I am a native
of France,” he explained; ‘but I’ve been a
rolling stmie, and have gone over nearly the
whole world. Twenty years ago I was in
Savannah, Georgia, working the place as a
street-singer. I had been—well, I had lived b
my wits—but when Lacour, my partner, died,
had a new idea.

“ I adopted his son, Basil, and went around
the streets, feigning lameness, with the two-year
old child with me. It was a good trick, and I
made. money.

“ One evening I was stopped by a man who.
after some talk, offered me five hundred dollars
if I would let him have the child and never
see it again. I agreed; the money was paid; I
surrendered all claim; he went away with his
purchase.

“ Yet, Idid not intend to lose sight of the
child—oh! no. I had made certain promises
and meant to keep them, but it would do no
harm to follow this fine gentlemen and see who

e was.

“ I did follow, secretly, of course, and learned
that his name was Edward Grape, and learned
that he was putting forward the child bought of
me as a great heir.

“ I shrua'ged mly shéiulders, said nothing
and went away. he] a great secret, but I
have never asked my fine gentleman for a dol-
lar since.”

e ‘paused, and Vincent steadily asked:

“ ill you swear to what you say?"

“ I will. Yes, my ladies and gentlemen, he
whom you have known, here, as Roland Thorn-
holm, is, really, Basil Lacour!”

“ It is a statement I cannot doubt," gravaly
added Livingstone. “ The prbof seems irre-
fragahle.”

Vincent turned to Crapo.

" What have you to say, sir?”

Without hesitation came the reply:

“ When this matter reaches a court of law I
will speak; until then, I am silent!”

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE FRENCHMAN SPEAKS T0 GOOD PURPOSE.
THE fallen student of Napoleon spoke with icy

'calmue~s; even in his adversity he faced the foe

firmly.

“Here’s somebody who may have a\word to
say," sneered Jean Aubrey, pointing to Roland.
“ ring him forward!"

No one opposed his will, and Roland was led
to the center of the group, pale and trembling.
All eyes were fixed on him who had so long ruled
at Thornholm, with whom most of them had
eaten and drank; and as few knew any real
crime against him, he had the sympathy of the
ma 'ority.

ard, indeed, it seemed to be torn in one luck-
less hour from a proud position and cast to an
ignoble depth.

Berenice Royalston, however, blessed the
chance which had made her discard him in his
time of power, and so saved herself from accusa-
tions of selfishness. .

“ This is asil Lacour. alias Roland Thorn-
holm,” add d Jean, grimly. “ li aste no pity on
him until you hear me out. I_ai‘i'chd in Vir-
ginia a month ago, from a croiSe to India and
back, I landed without money, and though. as
1 lately stated with truth, I had neVer asked Ed—
ward Crapo for money, I was resolved to seek
my flue gentleman and fill m ' pockets.

“ Being skillful at cards, f Soon won enough
to bring me here. One night I stopped at the
Glenville hotel. SeVeral young ‘bIOods’ were
there, and during the evening they began to play
cards. I mana ed to join theui,and chance so
ordered it that won severe! thousand dollars
from certain fellow who played with more
reckles uess than skill.

“ It was not until the end of the time that I
learned his name; then I. found I’d en flay“?
with the so—called Roland Thornholmi_ ru .
had made the family coffers open Wide 83 the
very start.”

Thus far Roland had listened in silence, but
seeinn‘ himself dlriven to the W8“, desperation

ve im stren ll. ,

88““ is a basegfalsehoodl” ho CflEd-
saw this man before 1”
One of the guests stepped forward.
“ I am sort to say that I saw Roland and the

“ I never

Frenchman p flying, as the latter has said,” he

gravely asserted. »

A look of despair came to the‘ fallen man’s
face.

“Are you all against me?” he demanded,
shrilly. .‘ Have I no friend here?”

Edward Crapo shrugged his shoulders and
turned partially away. The loss of courage dis-
gusted him.

I

 

 

 

wwfi» Mfl><fifitf

.;.s~:u61M-'r\r"\

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

V

Dangerous Dave.

29

 

Roland remained silent, add Jean continued: ’

“The playing ended in trouble. Thornholm
accused me of cheating—which, of course, I did
not (lo—and dashed his cards in my face. In a
momentI had a knife at his breast, and on his
bended knees he begged for pardon and merc —
a bit of liv-play not observed by any one, but
which, of Course, ended our playing.

“ I went out to get the air, and my pocketful
of money eluted me so much that I resolved to
walk to Thornholm Lodge, as an exercise, and
see the place, by evening.

“ It “as not late, and I started. You all
know that the road runs through a wood. While
in that wood I had an adventure.

“ I had no sooner left on foot than Thornholm
left by saddle. Stung by the way I’d humbled
him, if got by his money loss, be determined to
see me again.
madly until he bud ridden around me and gain-
ed my very path—at least, so I surmise his
movements. What followed is not guesswork.

“ The wood was dark except where the moon- ,
light fell through the half-interlocked trees. but i

I was going along without a thought of danger
when, suddenly, a man sprung out of the bushes
and 'umped at my throat.

" ‘ood people, Ican swear I recognized R0-
lund Thornholm; I swear it by all that is sacred.
I saw, too, the knife which gleamed in his hand,
but. I was so taken by surpr' that I could not
lift a hand until the steel ad once done its
wnrk. lt pierCed my side.

“ Then we grappled, but it_ was an unequal
struggle; the blood was coming from my side
like water, I grew weak; my head swam; and
I lost COllSl‘IOUSDE'SS.

“I was for the time bein dead to the world,
and it is a wonder that I di not leave it forever
on that fatal evening—the tenth of last month!”

A deep breath rose from the hearers Jean’s
manner was intenzeeliy dramatic, and it was a
relief when he pan. .

Every gaze was bent ulpon Roland, and then
he again found speech. ale and trembling, he
poured forth threats against Jean and protesta-
ticns of innocence in rapid succession until the
officers felt compelled to quiet him.

Sick with horror, Veva turned to Berenice.
She expected to find her friend as brave and
strong as usual, but the pallor of death was not
much whiter than Miss Royalston‘s face.

“ Bereuicel Berenicel” Veva exclaimed, in
dismay.

Her words broke the spell; Berenice started,
and the color swept back to her face in_ a sudden

" Obi may heaven be praised 1” she uttered,
so deeply, so thankfully, so strangely that Veva
was for the time rendered speechless.

Jean Aubrey resumed in an unmoved voice,
and told what had occurred after he lost con-
sciousness.

It was clear that. thinking he had killed his
opponent, Roland threw him into the river
which there flowed close to the road; but he ha
fallen upon some driftwood, which had buoyed
him up until Captain Norcross found and took
him to the cottage.

Subse uent events there, together with the
visit by oland when. he saw Jean and thought
him a specter, need no explanation here.

It will also be understood that, when Vincont
was fully ready to strike the blow, he had seen
the officers of law, and other persons who had
come v. ith him to Thornholm on the present
occasion, and arranged a scene which should be

at once overwhelming to the enemy and con-‘

vim-ing to the best people of the neighborhood.

The officers had grown Wearv of delay, and
they prepared to depart with Crapo and the
false Roland as their prisoners. The latter was
thoroughly cowed, but Edward Cra looked on
with a satirical smile on his strong ace.

The guests did not go yet, and, in the mo-
mentar confusion, Berenice went to Hereford’s
side. e re arded her with grave kindness,
and then. as 9 saw her uiverin lips, thought
bitterly that she still loved Ronni

“ Captain,” she said, unsteadily, “ I have done
you a great wrong!”

I‘liag‘started.g N , an

‘ wrong 0, no not t- on did what
you thought best—” I' ’ ’

She interrupted him with a are,

“ You will remember that told on there
was something in the past which—wh ch—must
make us more acquaintances, and that 1 ref
tosa what it was?” t

“ es.” he quickly. eagerly returned.

“Oh! Arthur, I am ashamed to confess the
tru hnmed to look in ’your face. I h".

n . .

wro on an rdonably
“Imprint-ogreofthat. '
“ Bu I luvs."

“ Willryou let me be the judge? Will you ten
me now

Her he’d sunk lower yet. '

“ Arthur, 1—! witnessed the assault upon
Aubrey!"

lz‘gm'” nd obi Arth I though

es; s . or t the as-

sailant was yoni” '

Hereford was silent th confusion.

«I thought I " she humbly

M and did not see howyigl'pouible it'll.

oi.
“n g. ,1 .

He took the west road and went‘

 

 

 

This was the obstacle between us; this, my un-
pardonable sin l”

“ Unpardonablel Not so; you wrong me—-—”

“ The wrong was in the past. Being so blind
as not to see that you must be innocent, I de
cided that I could not unite my fortunes with
an assassin. In that I was right, but, oh! why
did I not understand I was fatally mistaken?”

Shame and misery were expressed in her face,
but, after a moment of bewi dered thought, his
own expression grew strong with joy and hope.

“ But now, now that you know me guiltless,
is the ban lifted i” he eagerly asked.

In the confusion and murmur of voices no
one but themselves heard the next few words,
but, when they were spoken, Berenice knew she
was fully forgiven, and the captain saw a
golden future revealed to him.

Miss Royalston told how, returning on foot
from a neighbor’s, that evening, she had chanced
to see Jean Aubrey stabbed and thrown into the
river; how, thinking she had recognized here-
ford in the slayer, she had gone home half-
stunned and broken-hearted—gone home to
think, think until her brain whirled—to believe
the man whom she loved must have been driven
to the deed by some great wrong, and to vow
that, though she could not marry one who had
taken human life, she would keep his secret for-
ever. -

Despite all, she had never been able fully to
believe him guilty. In moments of calmness it
seemed a positive fact: when with him she of
ten wavered, and the judgment of her heart had
led her to assert confidence in his honor, when
talking with him, even while the cooler voice
of her intellect pronounced her confidence false.

While they talked, Vincent and Veva were
having a conversation not less earnest. Veva
knew, at last. how painful had been his dilemma
when he believed her Edward Crapo’s daughter,
and understood the complications that arose
from that erroneous belief.

But they, like the other young couple, now
saw only happiness in the future.

At one side Nina and Maggie Warner were
tenderly caring for Mrs. Crapo, the Rosalind
of 0' her days; and the calm, tender light of hap-
piness in her eyes spoke promisiugly for her
future.

When the guests had followed the prisoners
out of the house the ex-derangod woman invited
her young friends to visit the old portrait-
gallery; the place where Vincent had gone,
once, an or such singular circumstances.

They were dela ed for awhile as the negroes
appeared in a bogy, led by old Phillis, who had
not left her cabin before in several weeks; and
then the older slaves kissed and dropped tears
upon the hand of the “ Miss Rosalind” who had
so long been lost to them, and was now so
strangely restored.

Later, she and her young friends went to the
portrait hall and stood in a up amid the many
pictured generations of thgfihoble old family;
and theveyes of Robert Allan Thornholm might
almost have seemed to grow tender as they tum-
ed u n the living.

6 leave them there, substance with shadow,
generation with generation, but Thornholm, all;
and the sunshine which streamed in through the
wlestern Windows clad all in mantles of golden
g ory.

There was no legal struggle as a sequel to the
events narrated, but the people of Glenville yet
tell how, fearing to meet the charges brought
against him of assaultiu Aubre , Basil Lacour,
once known as Roland horuho in, cheated the
law by committing suicide.

Edward Crapo, released from prison because

 

.his wrouged wife would make no complaint

against him, took age on a steamer bound
for Europe. He never reached there: the vessel
went down with all on board. .

0f the second Mrs. Crapo and Jean Aubrey
there is no further record. Both left Glenville
abruptly, and were heard from no more.
Rumor had it that they went together, but the
report was not substantiated.

John Jay Lennox neVer entered Thornholm
again. He married an heiress, and, as she was
Jealous and ill-tempered, led an unhappy life.

All went well with Captain Norcross, Maggie
Warner and Phillis. All remained near their
youn friends. The captain and Hector, the
dog, I me great friends, and Norcross made it
his special duty to sec that Hector had a life as
happy as the Thornholm family thought he
deserved after his noble work ; which meant noth-
in was too good for him.

ereford and Berenice found no more trouble
in decidin upon their future. They were mar-
ried, and ey settled down to a lifeof happiness.
The last cloud had come and gone.

The tie between the neighbors was strength-
ened when Nina married a cousin of Hereford’s.

The lawful Mrs. Cra had no return of her
mental malad ,but.be ved by all. bond and
free, she liv in her old home in perfect hap-
Pinoss, tenderly cared for by her tins.

“ Dangerous Dave” was heard of no more in
detective work. His last case had been his
gestalt and the victory had been complete, but

had no desire to continue the work.

He assumed the name of Allan Thorn-

 

holm, at his mother’s request, and reigned at the
Lodge With Veva as his Wife. In their opinion
no other household was so happy as theirs, and
the young Thornholms, who are proud to be
their chil ten, are as tenacious of the family
honor as could be wished by the past generations
who exist only in the old portrait hall.

THE END.

 

Beadle’s Hall-Dime library.

RY CAPT. MARK WILTON.
.56 Young Keltnek: or, The Red Lasso.
I70 Blizzard Rent or, The Riot at Keno Camp.
380 Josh. the Boy Tenderfoot.

 

BY LIECT. A. K. SIMS.

546 Captain Cactus, the Chaparral God.

568 The Dandy of" Dodge.

576 The Silver Sport.

588 Saffron Sol. the Man “'lth a Shadow

5st) Tom-Cat and Paul: or. The Dead Set at Silver City,
601 "- py "Bill, the Dutch Vidoca.

(ill BIISad Barnacle, the Detective ercules.

622 Texas Tom-(‘at's Triad

681 To!- (‘nt‘s Terrible Task.

«88 Tons-Cat’- Triumph; or. lilsck lvsn‘s Gust Combine.
B46 (‘owbn ' Gld. the Cattle-Range Detective.

857 Warbllng “'Illlulll. the Mountain Mounlehank.
665 Jolly Jeremiah, the Plains Detective.

BY COLONEL "ELLE RARA.

10‘ The Lion ofthe Den; 0', The Valled Lady.
[80 Cool Desmond: or, The Gambler's Big Game.

BY WILLIA“ If. ET STE".

190 Randv Burke; or. The Tigers of High Pine.
.10 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Duke's Go-Down Paras

RY GEORGE “'ALRO BROWNE.

80 “in. Rock the Man from Texas.

90 The read Rider; or, The Texln Duelist.

DO The Tlcer ofTaos: or, Dandy Rock’s Angel.

115 The H“ Miller: or, Dandy Rock’s Doom.
"1 The Golden “and: or, Dandi'ikock lo the Rescue.
164 Dandy Rock’s Pl e: or, slated to Death. .
1?. Dandy Rock’s Riv : or. The llaunlod Maid of has.

BY CAPT. J. F. C. ADAHI.

84 Oregon Sol: or, Nick Willinu’u Boy Spy.
4O Gian-By the Great Shot of the West.
54 Ned "323. the 30 Trapper.
A et; or, In The Valley of Death.

0 The White Indian; or, The Scout of the Yellowstone.

70 Old ll ’0 Cabin: or, The Greenhom in the Woods.

8! [Arthur-g Jo. the Terror of the Prairie.

85 Buck Buekrnuz or, Bess, the Female Tn per.
147 Old Grlssly and Ills Pets: ohmic Wil Hutu-s.
.5! h also nge; or, Osceola, tho Flrebrand.

.5? T e Lost Hunters: or The Underwood Camp.
sea The seal. Ki... or, Tllo Human r undorholt.

BY J. W. OBBON.

“9 The Rival Glnnta ofNowhar’.

498 Cactus Burr. the Man from Hard Luck.

68? "Id Burke 'e. the Sierra Shadow.

1564 Powder 1’ ll, the Boy Minor.

609 Bally Dori-It, the \etenn Detective.

620 Little LI litnhig’s Leigh e: or, The Mystery of the Island.
688 l’lueky aul, t e Buy Prospector.

BY ALBERT “3 AIKEK.

II The Two Detectives: or. The Fortunes of. Bowery Girl.
78 Abe Colt. the Crow-Killer.
I’ll Sol GI er, the Ginni'l‘n per.
288 Joe lluc ' ofAngels sin Illi- Roy Pnrd.
447 New \"ork Not. A Tale of'I‘riclu and Traps in Goth-n
45" New En land Nick: or. The Fortunes ol-Fouadl‘uig.
404 Nimble .'Ii-li, the Circus Prince.
498 'I'aol Ted. the Ariwnu S on.
510 Cool Colorado, the Hal -Bn-od Detective.
518 Cool Colorado in New York.

MISCELLAN EOUS AUTHORS.

4 The Wild-"one Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Raid on.
Frederick “Window.
9 Adventures of Baron Shiloh-noel.
I! Gulliver’s Travels. By Dun hwift.
l4 Aluddln; or, The Wonderful Lamp. .
I6 Robinson Crusoe. (91 Illustrations.) .
18 fllndbad the fiallor. His Seven toy-Ru.
I. The Sea Serpent: or. The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Joan

Carr . Pierce.
86 The Roy Clown: or. Tho Arena Queen. By I 5. Plan.
.8 Ned “'ylde. the Boy Scout. By Tex. Jack.
51 The Boy “men; or. The Underground Camp. By A. C. Iron.
95 The Rival Rover-t 01,,Tho l'mbootors of the Mississippi.
By LleuL-Col. Hmlllne.
.8 llobln “00d. lhc Oil-hth End: «.111- Morry Men are"...
wood. 3 Prof. Gildeuloovo.
105 Old RI 9. the Hunt-v: on?!“ Crow Captive. By C.”
Hamilton Holmes.
IIS The Mall Ila-tor: or, ‘ ha Cave of Death. By Bung-3m
I“ 'nppy. the Texans or.‘l‘h¢ Young Champion. D: Georg.
GI

fl“.

"8 The "one-'5 Privateer; or, The Pirate's Stronghold. Dy
Harry Cnv lab.

I“ $5.". fl... 3 or, The Adventures ofs blendin- Boy. By J.
Alexander Patton.

.87 Dusky Darrell.
mpg-MM 1r“y u'mm a. i~' v k a. B a I. an...

9.! I" , I corn-Is 0 '0w ,7 . . .

.0. K’llllb’nr. the Bullet "I’D"! Crockoytt's Crooked Tvdl.
By Ensign C. D. Warns.

.“ M “3". the Ono-I!“ 7"” or. The Ilsid oi the Cli‘.
By Captain Com-sock;

ll? Peacock Pete. the Lively in fun Loodvlllo. By Lion-
us ' i A loy' fight tor w d non-u.
Q '6 M. I III

B Intervlleh&l'roo.

“O Izod Ralph. t e River Rover: or, The Brother's Io-
ns... By Nod Buntllno.

3%: 2:9th "" Mm- ith”. unit it it "“"

. a on; or s . an.

8?. Canton]. Ju's hut Troll. )7 Colonel 1'"-
H0 or Monster-y.

it; Bliiy Bombshell, the CIilCllin‘ov. By I. s. when.

The Bl S J h. Wand.
(lo-on “:  oIla Three Inst-ables. Dr

Henry).
Wlsord- new can. sins-1.11m.
“3 ml.“ "

Lewis.
88 The Ocean Bloodhound: or, The Red Pinto. of the
limo. 8v 8 W ‘

Ho- .
.lotso.
"my." “in: "By w Curl»-
Alowlssnolverr'l'ooslu.
mummum-uwm “Idaho.”
fipcospyprssslhy-di mailman-h. '
BIA.“ Aim Pom
"VIII- WIN!“

. or. The Green Ranger of the Tab '

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(€<¢ulatih;f‘k_i¥'l‘3'flfi§“‘<-§‘£¥5§'Af~"   “  ‘ "J <

 

 

 

 

 

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MD TneThree Spaniards. By Geo. Walks.

fl Bizuinox Tom, the Bully of Bed Rock: or, Dan
Brown's Masterstroke. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

8 Captain Crimson. the Man of the Iron Face; or
The 'ii'emesis of the Plains. By Maj. Dangerfield

 

Burr.

{43 The Czar’s Spy; or, The Nihilist League. By
Col. T. H. Monstery.

2-144 The Hunchback lot NotrefDame. By Victor
Hugo

345 Pistol Pards,‘ 01', Soft Hand. the Silent Sport
from Cinnabar. By Wm. R. Eyster.

‘446 The Doctor Detective; or, The Mystery of the

Golden Comn. By George Lemuel.

314? Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas; or. The
Child of theflegiment. By Colonel Prentiss
Ingraham.

it‘de One-Army. Alf, the Giant Hunter of tilt. Great
Lakes By 011 Coomes.

(:49 Tin. Border Rifles. By Gustave Almard.

160 nl ltublo Bravo, King of the Swordsman; or.
The Terrible Brothers 01 Tabasco. By Col.
Thomas Hoyer Monstery,

151 The Freebooters. By Gustave Aimard.

W Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chiei“ or.
The Gypsy Queen‘s Legacy. By Marmaduke
l 'ey ,

15‘. The White Scalper. By Gustave Almard.

154 Joaquin, the Saddle King. By Jos. E. Badger.

£55 The Corsair com or. The Gy es of the Sea.
By Col. Prong; Ingraham. p81 '

its Velvet Face the Border Bravo; or Muriel, the
Danite‘s Bride. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr.

1U? Mourad. the Mameluke; or. The Three Sword-
masters. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery.

158 The Doomed Dozen; or, Dolores, the Danite's
Daughter. By Dr. Frank Powell.

159 Red Rudiger, the Archer" or, The Lady Bertha's
Treachery. By Capt. F. 7Whittaker.

‘3 Soft Hand Sharp; or, The Man With the Sand.
By Wm. B. Eyster.

“RI The Wolves of New York; or. Joe Phenix‘s
Great Man Hunt. By A. W. Aiken.

462 The Mad Mariner; or, Dishonored and Disowned.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

€68 Ben Brion, the Trapper Ca tain: or, Redpath,
the Avenger. By Dr. J. H. lbinson.

l The King’s Fool; or, The Kin hts of the Clasped
Hands and Red Branch.  D. Clark.

.m‘l Joaquin, the Terrible. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

.66 Owlet. the Robber Prince; or The Unknown
Highwaymen. By Septimus R. ‘Urban.

167 The Man of Steel: or. The Masked Knight of the
White Plume. By A. P. Morris.

168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot' or, Dagger Don’s
Double. By Colonel Prentiss lngraham.

169 Corporal Cannon. the Man of Forty Duels. By
Colonel Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

170 Sweet William, the Trapt‘lfir Detective; or The
a

Chief of the Crimson n. ' By Joseph E.
Badger, Jr.

in Tiger Dick. the Man of the fmn Heart; or, The
Dumb Bandit. By Philip S. Warne.

172 The Black Pirate; or. The Mystery of the Golden
Fetters. By Colonel P. Ingrahsm.

m Cfiitomia John. the Pacific Thoroughbred. By
Albert W. Aiken.

m The Phantom Knights. By Capt. r. Whittaker.
in Wil Bill‘sTru Card or. Hummus-s.
By her Damage“ 

~ 8 Lad Jaguar, the Robber Queen. By Captain
n. '

MarWto

177 Don Diablo. the Pinata-Corsair; or, The Rivals
of the Sea. ,By Col. Prentiss Ingrshsm.

178 Dark Dashwood, the Desperate' or, The Child of

the Sun. By MIJOI' Sam 8. Hall

179 Conrad. the Convict; or, Was'He Guilty! By
Prof. Stewart ,Gildersleeve. LLD.

15) Old '49; gr, The Amazon of Arizona. By Jos. E.

Badger. r.

151 The Scarlet Schooner; or,'rhs nemesis of the
Sea. .By 001. Prentiss Ingrahnm.

m HandsU ' or ThoKnightsof the Can 11. B
Wm. B. £33m}. ’0 y

" 188 Gilbe the Guide or, Lost in the Wild .
’ By Crllunning Clair. "a"

i 184 The Ocean Vsm e; or, The Heiress of Csstl‘
Curse. By Col. tiss Ingrahsm. ' e

:85 The Man 3 lder' or, The Beautiful hinx.
Anthony PPMorl'is. 8’ By

11! The Blao Bravo; or The Tonks ‘sTrinmph.
ByBuc anal. ‘ w , .

‘ m Thebesth‘s Bead Cuirsssiers: or. Brsvsot All

Braves. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker
“ThoPhsntqusns 'or.The nsofthe
chsparrsls. By Immerse“ rr.

'3WildBill‘sGoldTrsii;or,TheDospsrsdoBossn.

ByCoLPrsnflssl

 Brutus-drum

I
' r'k‘i;;‘r'l'4l"*'!’1¢E-V¥m  W" - ‘m

..

Beadle-s Dime Library.

191 The Terrible Tonkawa ; or, Old Rocky and His
Pards. By Buckskin am.

192 The Lightning Sport; or. The Bad Man at Slaugh-
ter Bar. By W. R. Eyster.

193 The Man in Red: or, The Ghost of the Old Guard.
By Capt. F. Whittaker.

194 Don Sombrero, the California Road Gent' or,
The Three Men of Mount Tabor. By Capt. Mark
Wilton.

195 The Lone Star Gambler; or, The Maid of the
Magnolias. By Buckskin Sam.

196 La Marmoset, the Detective Queen; or, The Lost
Heir of Morel. By Albert W. Aiken.

197 Revolver Rob. the Red-Handed; or, The Belle of
Nugget Camp. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

198 The Skeleton Scliooner- or. The Skimmer of the
Sea By Col. Prentiss fngraham.

13’ Diamond Dick, the Dandy from Denver. By
Buckskin Sam.

200 The Rifle Rangers or, Adventures in Southern
Mexico. By Capt. .Iayne Reid.

201 The Pirate of the Pincers; or, Joaquin‘s Death
Hunt. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

202 Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide: or, The Masked
Robbers of Black Bend. By Capt. Mark Wilton.

208 The Double Detective: or, The Midnight Mys"
tery. By Albert W. Aiken.

204 Big-Foot Wallace, the King of the Lariat; or,
Wild Wolf, the Waco. By uckskin Sam.

205 The Gambler Pirate; or, Bessie, the Lady of the
Lagoon. liy Col. Prentiss Ingruhnm.

206 One Eye, the Cnnnoneer: or. Marshal Ney's Last
Legacy By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

207 Old Hard Head; or, Whirlwind and His Milk
\\ hite Mare. By Philip S. Warne.

2% The White Ch. ef. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

209 Buck Farley, the Bonanza Prince; or. The Ro-
mance of Death Gulch. By Edward Willett.

210 Buccaneer Bess. the Lioness of the Sea; or, The
Red Sea Trail. By Col. P. lngraham.

211 Colonel Piun er: or, The Unknown Sport. By
Capt. Frede ck Whittaker.

212 The. Brazos Tigers- or. The Minute-Men of
Fort Belknap. By Buckskin Sam.

213 The War Trail; or, The Hunt of the Wild Horse.
By Capt. Mayne Reid.

214 The Two 0001 Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch.
By Wm. R. Eyster.

215 Parson Jim King of the Cowboys; or, The
Gentle She ) erd’s Big “Clean-Out. ‘ By Capt.
Frederick hittaker.

210 The Corsair Planter; or, Driven to Doom. By
Col. Prentim Ingraham.

217 The Se ent of El Paso; or Frontier Frank, the
Scout 0 the Rio Grande. By Buckskin Sam.

218 The Wild Huntr ; or, The Big Squatter’s Ven-
geance. By Capt. Mayne Reid. ,

219 The Sco ion Brothers; qr, Mad Tom’s Mission.
By Capta n Mark Wilton.

220 The Specter Yacht; or, A Brother's Crime. By
Col. P. lngrnham.

221 D crate Duke. the Guadeloupe “ Galoot." By
Buc skin Sam. -

on Bill. the Blizzwd; or. Red Jacket's Double
Crime. By Edward Willett.

as Canyon Dave. the Man ,01' the Mountain' or,
Thfi‘g’oughs or Silver Spur. By Captain Mark
W n. - »

224 Black Beard the Buccaneer; or, The Curse of
the Coast. By Col. P. Ingraham. ;

a Rocky Mountain Al- or N t Nell. the Wait
0! the Range. By Bucksk‘ifiam.

as The Mad Hussars; or. The 0's and the Mac’s.
By Capt. F. Whittaker.

B7 Buckshot Ben. the Man-Hunter of Idaho' or.
glfiwCactus Creek Tragedy. By Capt. Mark
11.

as The Maroon. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

2919 Captain Cutsleeve; or, Touch-Me-Not. the Uttls
Sport. By Wm. B. Eyster.

no The Fl Dutchman of 1880' or Who was
Vanderiyligfiren. By Capt. Whittaker". ‘

281 The Kid Glove Miner or. The M (3 Doctor of
Golden Gulch. By 061. r. Ingrah‘dfd. ‘

232 Orson On, the Man of Iron; or. The River Mys-
tery. By lsaac Hawks.

938 The Old Boy of Tombstone; or. Wagerlné a
Life on a Card. By J. E. Badger, r.

984 The Bunters’ Feast. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

w Red Lightnin , the Man of Chanco; or Flush
Times n Go den Gulch. By Colonel Prentiss
Ingrsham. ‘

m‘alam ion ; or, The Monarch")! th 8 .
By Cot T. H. Monstory. 0 how

.WLon nnlrodunx- 01'.”on of
Coast. By Capt. it. Wilton. , ° “1°

933 Bank 11 u the '1 CI -
The Owl: :1 arm BnyDmvmhw'

 

“Wmmwmhomauo Army.

J

 

' ' "" ‘ " '1" ” "’ '°'""’ "' £751.": T'T‘. “1'7".” f,‘ i=2:

I

240 A 0001 Head; or. Orson On in Pal I. By Isa“

Hawks.

211 Spitfire Saul, King of the, Rustic-m: or, neon
Dixie‘s Grand “Round-Up.” By Josep ll.
Badger, Jr

212 The Fog Devil- or. The Skipper of the Flash.
By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

243 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweetheart.
By Buffalo Bill.

244 Merciless Mort, the Man-Tiger of Missouri; or,
The Naif of the Flood. By “Buckskin Sam"
Maj. Sam S. Hall.

245 Barranca Bill. the Revolver Champion; or, The
Witch of the Weeping Willows By Captain
Mark Wilton.

246 gneen Helen, the Amazon of the Overknd; or,

he Ghouls of the Gold Mines. By Col. Prentisr
Ingraham.

247 Alligator Ike; or The. Secret of the Everglado.
By Capt. Fred Whittaker.

5248 Montana Nat thr, Lion of Last Chance Camp.
Rv- figwui‘o ‘fi’iziett.

249 Elephant Torn. of Durango; 0r fun"- Gold Dust
or Your Life. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

250 The Rough Riders; or. Sharp-Eye, the Seminal.
Scourge. By Buckskin Sam.

251 Tiger Dick vs. iron Despard; or, Every Man Hu-
His Match. By P. S. Warns.

252 The Wall Street Blood; or. Tick, Tick. the Tel.-
graph Girl. By Albert W. Aiken.

253 A Yankee Cossack: or, The Queen of the Nihil-
ists. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. -

254 Giant Jake the Patrol of the Mountain. By
Newton M. Curtis.

255 The Pirate Priest: or. The Planter Gambler's
Daughter. By Col. P. Ingraham.

256 Double Dan. the Bastard: or, The Pirates of ms
Pecos. By Buckskin Sam.

25? Death-Trap Diggings; or. A Hard Man from
. 'Way Back. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr..

258 Bullet Head, the Colorado BrnvO' or, The Pris-
(‘l‘peirs of the Death Vault. By ‘aptain Mark
'l ton.

259 Cutlass and Cross; or, The. Ghouls of the Son
, By Colonel Prentiss lngraham.

260 The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent.
By A. P. Moi-m. '

261 Black Sam. the Prairie Thuhderbolt; or, m
Bandit-Hunters. I By Col. Jo Yards.

262 Fighting Tom. the Terror of the Toughs. By
Col. Thomas Hoyer Monster-y.

263 Iron-Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destro er: or.
The Black Riders’ Terror. Capt. Mark ilton.

264 The Crooked Three' or, The Black Hearts of
the Guadalupe. By Buckskin Sam.

285 Old Double-Sword; or. Pilots and Pirates. By
Captain Frederick Whittaker.

m Leopard Luke,‘the King of Horse-Thieves' or
$3 Swamp Squatter’s Doom. By Capt. Mark
ton.

267 The White Squaw. By Cap. Mayne Reid.

$8 cMike, the Man of Frills; or. Bad Ben‘s
Brigade. By William R. Eyster.

an The Ba on Bravo: or, The Terrible Trail. By
Bucks Sam.

270 Andros, the Free Rover; or, The Pirate's
Daughter. By Ned Buntiine. r

2718 fit, :13 N tBond°or Oiszt-
me 9 ° ‘“ uni-r’ 'wnion.

chum’s Tug of ar. y Capt.
2793 Seth Slocum, road Surveyor or The Secret
oi Sitting Bhll. .By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

278 Mountain Mose the Gorge Outlaw- or. m
HkorseS‘Leon’s Five Fights for Life.‘ By Bung»
s n in.

274 Flush Fred, the Mississi pl s rt' or Tough.
Times in Tennessee. By Edwalgfwlnett.

875 The Sin}: ler Cutter; or, The Cavern in tho
Chfl. By .D. Conroy. ' .

9m Texas Chick, the Southwest Detective; or.
Tiger Lily. The Vulture Queen. By Captain
Marlr Wilton.

m The Saucy Jane Privateer: or, The Hunting” a! .>

Old lronsides. By Capt. Fred Whittaker. .1

978 Hercules Golds lun the Man of the Velvet Email
or, The Poker éueen‘s Drop Game. B! W
Howard Holmes. '

279 The Gold Dragon; or, The California EM
hound. By William H. Manning.

no Black-Hess Ben; or. Tiger Dick’s flout Hand.
By Philip S. Warns. (

$1 The Sea OM; or, The Bsdy Captain of the 0.1:.
By Colonel Prentisslngraham.

$2 The Merciless Marauders: or, Chaparral Cll'l‘
Revenge. By Buckskin Sam.

283 Sleek Sam. the Devil of the Mines- or, The Bell
of the Fiery Cross. By Jos. E. ger. Jr.

984 The Three Fri tea: or, Old Ironsidos' m
By Capt. Fredf‘aWhittaker.

an L htnin Bolt, the Can 1: Terror or
{Migunnistm’s Grudge. 3:0... in}: wing

fl PistolJohnny' or,-0iloMsshsThsosssd. I
Joseph M.- Jr. _

Budget.

 

A}.

 

   
 

»; .

 

 

 
 
   

.316 Lafltle’s Lieutenant; or, 'i‘hvodore. the Child of

 , “1 NW'We“. Nick} the Border Detective' or,

_ Beadle’s‘ Dime Library.

 

 

287 Dandy Dave, and His Horse, White Stocking; 1
or. Ducats or Death. By Buckskin Sam. 1

282 Elt'CU'O Pete, the Man of Fire; or. The Wharf
Rats of Locust Point. Bv A. P. Morris.

2% Flush Fred‘s Full Hand: 01‘, Life and Strife in
Louisiana. 13y Edward Willcit.

21K) The Lost Corvette; or. lilakele.-y’s Last Cruise. <
By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

:lfli Horseshoe Hank. the Man of Big Luck: or, The
(mid Brick of Idaho. By Capt. Mark Wilton.

:3le Bloke Homer the Boss Ronstahout; or, The
Fresh-Water Sharks of the Overflow. By J. E.
Badger, Jr.

293 Stampede Steve; or, The Doom of the Double
Face. By Buckskin Sam.

.294 Broadcloth Butt, the Denver Dandy: or, The
Thirtv Pards of Deadwood. By Capt. ii. Holmes.

395 Old ross-Eye, the Maverick—Huntcr; or, The
Night Riders of Satnnta County. By Capt. F.
Whittaker.

296 Duncan, the Sea-Diver; or, The Coast Vultures.
lly George St. George.

297 Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of Hotspur
City- or, The Giant Brothers of Buzzard Roost.
By illiam H. Manning.

298 Logger Lem; 0r, Llfl‘ and Peril in the Pine
Woods. B Edward Willett.

299 Three of a nd. Tigsr Dick, lron Despard, and
the Sportive Sport. By P. S. Warne. ,

800 ASport in Sicctacles; or. The Bad Time at
Bunco. By V illiam R. E Men

801 Bowlder llill; or, The n from Taos. By
Buckskin Sam.

80? Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules; or, The
Grip of Slt‘t‘l. By Joseph E. Badgcr. Jr.

803 Top-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw; or 'Ilo :
Satanstmvn Election. By Capt. Whittaker. I

804 Texas Jack. the Prairie Rattler or, The Queen
of the Wild Riders. By Buflalo hut. ‘

805 Silver-Plated Sol the Montana Rowr; or, Giant I
Dave‘s Fight with Himsdf. By Capt. Mark
Wilton. _

NS The Roughs of Richmond: or, The Mystery of
the Golden Beetle. By A. P. Morris.

807 The Phantom Pirate; or, The Water Wolves of
the Bahamas. By Col. P. Iugraham.

308 Hemlock Hank. Tough and True' or, The
Shadow of Mount Kathadin. By E. ’illctt.

809 Raybold. the Battling Ranger; or. Old Rocky’s
Tough Cam sign. By Buckskin Sam.

310 The Marsha of Satanstown; or, The League of
the C:lti1"-Llftt§rs. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

311 Heavy Hand, the Relentless; or. The Marked
Men of Paradise Gulch. By Capt. M. Wilton.

312 Kinkfoot Karl. the Mountain Scourge; or, Wip-
ing out the Score. By Morris Redwing.

313 Mark Magic, Detective. By A. P. Morris.

814 Lafitte; or. The Pirate of the Gulf, By Prof. J.
H. lngralinm. _ I

315 Flush Fred‘s Deuble: or. Thc Squatters’ League ’

of Six. By E lward Willett.

the Sea. ily Prof. J. ll. Ingraham.

317‘ fra‘nk Lifhtfoot, the Miller Detective. By J. E.
lat. ger. r. V

318 The Indian Buccaneer, or, Red Rovers on Blue
Waters. B Col. Pmntiss Inn-sham.

819 :V‘ildBBlilll, e Whirlwind of the West. By But-
a o . ‘

8% The Genteel Spotter; or,th‘e Night Hawks of
New York. By A. W. Aiken.

821 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. By Captain
Howard Holmes.

822 The Crimson Coyotes; or, Nita, the Nemesis.

I}? Buckskin Sam.

323 otspur Hugh' or The Banded Brothers of the
Giant's Arm. By Captain Mark Wilton.

324 Old Forked Lightning. the Solitary; or, Every
lnch a Man. By Jos. E. Badger Jr.

826 The Gentleman Pirateilgr, The Hermit of Casco

m.

Ba '. ll Col. P. Ingrn ,
3 y Mines. By 011an F,

3% The Whitest Man in the
Whittaker.
827 Terrapin Dick. the Wild Woods Detective; or,
Trailing a Traitor. B Edward Willett.
828 King Kent; or. The ndits of the Boson. By
Buckskin Sam. ~
329 The Lea 110 of Three' or. Buffalo Bill's Pledge.
By Col. rentiss Ingra am. .
330 Cop Colt, The Quaker City Detective. By Chas.
arris.
881 Chispa Charley. the Gold Nugget Sggrt; or, The
Rocky Mountain Masks. By . E. dger. Jr.
382 Spring-Heel Jack; or The Masked Mystery of
t e Tower. By Col. onstery.
888 gerrhliigefi', Deck, the Man with the Drop. By
m. . ya , .» .
334 The Cipher DWlVB° or, Mark Magic on :1 Mn
Trail. By . . 0.14.,
35 F135}! Dan- the Nabob' or. The Blades of Bowie
Bar. By Ca mm H. olmes,
335 The Magic ml? 01'. The Freebooters of Sandy
mghot‘i'bgygoh '"cl '5?” ‘
a ,te ounsn rungo‘ 61‘ ed
01‘ the Deserted Camp. By  {mtg mg y
838 Jack Sand, the Boss of the Town- or, The Fool
of Fiddler’s Folly. BK Philip 8. fine.
839 Spread Eagle Sam.t e Hercules Hide-Hunter.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
340 Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective; or, From
Lair to Lair. By Captain H. Holmes. ;
341 The Sea Desperado. By Colonel P. I m,
342 Blanco Bill, the Mustang Monarch. Buck.
skin Sam.
348 The Head Hunter; or. Mark We in the Mines.
1 By A. P. Morris. l
8“ cubic Shot Dave of the Left Hand; or, A Cold
ave at Black Dam. By Wm. R. ,o
ed Mark. the Mounted Detective. By Joe.

- Badgr, Jr.
846 Ocean nan-mas- or, The Planter Midshipman.
Col. Prentiss in whom
e the gMan With Sand; or. Centi-
01:18 8:11:- ions Hand. By Captain HoWard
1min illon, Kl ‘ rosscut- . A W ’
in Wild Work. m‘fii’tfie Winch.” om" a
849 Hon-Hearted Dick emsn RoadAgen .
By Albert w. Multan Gen” t

50 Flash raioo e. .
J. Cobb,, ”' “.Metybetecme. By Weldon

 

l' Brown‘s Eight

Ds
Badger. Jr.u

or Life. By Jon. E.

r .

352 The Desperate Dozen; or. The Fair Fiend of the
Coeur d’Alenc. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

35‘} llnrb llrennun, the Train Wrecker; or, The King
of Straight Flusu. By John Cuthbert.

354 Red Richard; or. The Brand of the Crimson ‘

Cross. By Albert \‘- . Aiken.
355 The Mad Athlete; or, Tin- Worst Pill in the Box.
lly Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

. 356 l‘hrcc Handsome S‘mrts; or, The Double Com‘

hiuation. By Wm. t. Eystcr.

357 Jack Simons, Dctvctiw; or, The Wolves of
Washington. By A. P. Morris.

358 The Prince of Pan Out; or, The Beautiful Na-
vajo's Mission. By Buckskin Sum.

359 Yellow Jack. the Mestizo; or, Tiger Dick to the
Rescue. By Philip S. Wurne.

860 Jumping Jerry. the Gamecouk from Sundown;
or, A Craw Full of Sand. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

361 Tombstone Dick. the Train Pilot; or, The Trai-
tor's Trail. By Ned Buntline.

862 Buffalo Bill’s Grip: or, Oath-Bound to Custer.
By Col. Prentiss ingraham.

363 Crowniuishield. the Detective; or, Pitiless as
Death. Albert W. Aiken.

364 The Sea ‘ugitive; or. The Queen of the Coast.
By Col. Prentiss Iugraham.

365 Keen Kenuard, the Shasta. Shadow; or, The
Branded l-‘acc. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

366 The Telegraph ‘Deteclive; or, The Dynamite
League. By George Henry Moms.

367 A Royal Flush; or. Dan Brown’s Big Game of
Freezv-Out. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

368 The Canyon King; or, A Price on His Head. By
Edward Willett.

369 The. Coast Corsair; or, Made 3
of “Ir Sea. By Col. Prentiss f

Madge. the Siren
ngraham.

‘ 370 The Dusky Detective; or, Pursucd to the End.

By A. \V. Aiken.
371 Gold Butt )llS; or, The Up-Bange Pards.
' Buckskin Sam.

372 Captain Crisp. the Man with a Record.
Jos. E. ladgor, Jr.

373 The Se. lor of Fortune; or. The Buccaneers of
Barnegat Bay. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

374 Major Blister. the Sport of Two Cities; or. The
Broadway S )otter in the Black Hills. By Capt.
Howard 110 mes.

375 Royal George. the Three in One; or. The Cold
Deck on Blazers. By Wm. R. Eystl-r.

3?6 The Black Beards; or, The High Horse on the
Rio Grande. By Albert W. Aikcn.

377 Afloat and Ashore: or, The Corsair Conspirator.
By Col. Prentiss lngraham.

378 John Armstrong. Mechanic: or. From the Bottom
to the Top of the Ladder. By Capt. F. Whittaker.

379 Howling Jonathan; or, The ’l‘error from Head-
waters. lly Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

380 The Golden Serpent; 01', Tiger Dick’s Pledge.
By P. S. Warnc. .

381 The Gypsy Gentleman: or. Nick Fox. the Demon
Detective. 13y Albert W. Aiken.

882 The Bonanza Band; or, Dread Don, of the Cool
Clan. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

888 Silver Sam, he Detective; or. The Bustiers of
Butte City. By Major Daniel Boone Dumont,

884 Injun Dick, Detective; or. Tracked from the
Rockies to New York. B Albert W. Aiken.

885 Wild Dick Turpin, the ion of Lcadville; or,
The Lone Hand. By Wm. H. Manning.

886 Hawk Heron, the Falcon Detective: or, The
goth’am Flats Mystery. By Jackson Knox. (Old

aw .

887 Dark Durg, the Ishmael of the Hills; or. The

Gold Phantom. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

By
By

'888 The Giant Buccaneer; or. The Wrecker Witch

of Death Island. By Colonel P. Ingraham.

389 Colonel Doubieedfge. the Cattle Baron‘s Pard'
or, The Marshal o Sandstone. By Major Daniel
Boone Dumout. U. S. A.

890 The Giant Cupid' or. Cibuta John’s Great
Jubilee. By J. C. owdrick.

891 Kate Scott the DecoX Detective; or, Joe Phe-
\ nix‘s sun Hunt. By . w. Aiken. '
892 The Lost Bonanza; or, The Boot of Silent

Hound. By Captain Howard Holmes.

393 The Convict Captain; or. The Battles of the
Buccaneers. By Colonel Prentiss in am.

394 White Beaver. the Exile of the P me or, a
Wronged Man’s Red Trail. By Bufl'alo Bill.

895 Deadly Aim. the Duke of Derringers; or, aFight
for Five Millions. , By J08. E. Badger. Jr.

896 The Piper Detective; or. The G t Edge Gang.
By Wm. B. Eyster.

397 The Wizard Brothers; or, White Beaver-’st
Trail. By Buffalo Bill.

898 Sleepless Eye, the Pacific Detective; or, Run-
ning Down a Double. By Geo. C. Jenks.

899 The New Monte Cristo; or, The Wandering Jew
of the Son. By Colonel Pren ss Wham.

400 Captain Coldgrip, the 8 rt at vs; or, The
New York Spotter in alorador By Captain
Reward Holmes.

401 The One-Arm Pard: or Red Retribution in Bor-
derland. By Buffalo Bill.

402 Snapshot Sam. the Pistol Sharp; or, TheRacket

at Angels’ Flat. By Wm. R. Eyster. .
403 The Nameless Sport; or, The Kilkenny Cats of
Way U19. Bv Jon. E. Bad . Jr.
404 Silver use Bid; or, A half; Bluff. By I‘huip s

Warne.

405 Old Bald . the Brigadier of Buck Basin; 01‘,
gunttiad own by a Women. By William H.

ann ng.

406 Old Pot!)3 Hicks. Showman; or, Lion Charley’s
Luck. y Capt. F. Whittaker.

40? Captain Coldgri '5 Neer' or, Injun Nick on
Deck. By Capt. oward Holmes.

4!! Doc Gri . the rting Detective; or, the Ven-
detta of th. y Albert W. Aiken. ’
Rob Roy Ranch- or. The Imps of the Pan Han-
dle. B Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

410 Sarah rown. Detective; or, The Mystery of the

v on. Bv .F, Hill.
411 The WhiteCrook; or. 'Old Hark‘s Fortress. By
jor Daniel Boone Dumont.

412 Larry Locke, the Man of Iron; or. A Fight for
Fortune. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

418 Captain Coldgriu in New York; 'or, The Dragon

e. ? Capt. H. Holmes. ‘ '

414 Red Renar , the Indian Detective: or. The Gold
Buzzards of Colorado. By Buflalo Bill.

415 Hot Heart. the Detective S : or The Red

* Joguar‘s Mission. By Win. 

i

416 Monte Jim. the Black Sheep of Bismarck. By
Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

417 Tucson Tom. the Bowie Brave; or, the Fire

Trailers. By Gont‘gl' St. George. ‘

418 Siliyl, tthz-a Siren: or, The Fugitive Privateer.
llv (01. P. ingrahnin.

l
I 419 The Bat of the Battery; or. Joe Phcnix, King

I
l
l

l

 

of Detectives. By Albert W. Aikcu.

Th.- Old River Sport; or, A Man of Honor. By

Maj. Daniel Boone Dumout.

421 Father Fcrret. the ‘Frisco Shadow; or,The Queen
of Bowie Notch. By Ca Iain Howard holmes.

4221lluuGrass Burt, the old S'ar Detective; or,
Toilnty Bound, to Vengeance Sworn. By J. C.
(‘owdrick

423 The Lone Hand; or, The Recrcants of the Red
{iv-r. By Albert W. Aiken.

424.}lawk Heron’s Deputy: or, Nixey’s Nip. By
Jackson Knox. (Old Hawk.)

420

425 The Sun Sword; or. The Ocean Rivals. By Col.
P. Iugralnun.
426 The Ghost Detective: or, TheSp of the Secret

Sn-n'icm ly Joseph E. Badger. r.

427 The Rivals of Montana Mills; or. Redgrave, the
Renegade. By Wm. H. Manning.

428 The l-‘iyinl,r Glim; or, The Island Lure.

“\US.

429 Hal.- Trig er Tom of Red Bend; or, All Wool
and :1 Yard Wide. By William R. Eysi er.

430 The Fatal Frigate: or. Rivals in Love and War.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

431 California Kit, the Always on Hand; or, The
Mountain Rivals. By Philip S. Warne.

432 The Giant Horseman; or, Tracking the Red
Cross Gang. By George C. Jenks.

433 Laughing Lco: or, Spread Eagle Sam‘s Dandy
Pard. By Jose 11 E. Badger, Jr.

434 Lucifer Lynx. t u; Wonch Detective' or, A Cool
Hand Among Hot Heads. By Ca LB. Holmes.

435 The One Aimed Buccaneer; or. he Havenless
Cruiser. By Col."Prentiss lngraham. '

436 Kentucky Jean, the Sport From Yellow Pine
By J. C. Cowdrick.

437 Dct'p Duke, the Silent Sharp; or. The Man of
Two Lives. By Wm. H. Mnnnin§

4'39 Oklahoma Nick; or, Boomer olt’s Surprise
Party. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

439 Salamander Sam; or, The Swamp Islam] Rene-

ades. By Major D. B. Dumont.

440 in,- High Horse of .the Pacific. By Albert W.
Aiken.

441 The i'alifornia. Sharp; or. The Trail of the Gold-
en Grandec. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

By Leon

1 442 Wild West \\ ah. the Mountain Veteran; or. The

Gunmakers of World's End. By \V. H. Manning.

443 A Cool Hand: 01', Pistol Johnny’s Picnic at Top
Notch. By Joseph E. Bad er. Jr. .

444 The Magic Detective; or, '1 ie Hidden Hand. By
Jackson Knox. r ‘

445 Journeyman John. the Ohm .ion; or. The Win-
ning Hand. By Capt. Fred. ’hirtaker.

446 Ocean Ogre. the Outcast Corsair; or. The Good
Ship of Ill-Omen. By Col. P. Ingraham.

447 Volcano. the 'Frisco Spy; or. The Secret of the
Secret Seven. lly Capt. Howard Hohncs.

448 Hark Kenton. the Traitor; or, The Hunted Life.
B Major D. Burr.

449 Bhifi’ Burke, King of the Rockies: or, The Black
Stake Rivals. By Wm. H. Manning.

450 The Rustler Detectiva; or. The- Bounding Buck
from Buffalo Wallow. By J. E. Badger. Jr.

451 Griplock, the Rocket Del‘ectivo; or, The Ham-
shaw Mystery. By Jackson Knox.

452 Rainbow Bob. the Tulip from Texas; or. The
Spot Saint’s Mission. By J. C. Cowdrick.

45‘} Captain Coldgrip‘s Long Trail' or. The Rivals of
Silver Deck. By Capt. Howard Holmes. '

454 The Night Raider: or, The Mysterious Marauder.

B'y Mn or D. B. Dumont. ._

4515 Tank ellowhird, the Tall Hustler of the Hills;
or, The Conspirators of Medicine Springs. By
Wm. H. ning.

456 The Demon Steer; or, The Outlaws on the Abl-
lene Cattle Trail. By Loon Lewis.

(57 The Sea Insurgent: or, The Conspimtor’s Son.

By Col. Prentiss ln sham. .

458 Dutch Dan. the Pi rim trom S itzenbe
The Rocky Racket at Rough Rob 11.
E. Bad r, Jr.

459 Major nnshine. the Man or Three Lives: or. The,
Waiting Waits at Git Thar. By Wm. B. Eyster.

460 Captain Coldgrip. the City Detective; or, The
Conlest. Woman in New York. By Capt. Howard

Holmes. 1.

461 The Fresh on the Rio Gmnde: or, The RedRide-
of Rayon. B Albert W. Aiken.

462 The Circus tective; or, Griplook in s. New
Role. ' By Jackson Knox. - i

463 Gold Gsuntie the Gulch Gladiator;‘ or. Yank
Yieliowbird's ot Campaign. By Wm. H. Mul-
n n . '

464 Sangdycraw, the Man of Grlt' or. The Blue
Sport‘s Revenge. By Major D. B. Dumont.

465 The Actor Detective“ BK Albert W. Aiken.

466 Old Rough and Read ,t e Based! Sundown; or;
Not for Life but for onor. By J. E. BadgerJr.

467 Mainwaring the Salamander; or, The Detective!
Ordeal. By Jackson Knox.

468 Coldgrip in Deadwood; or. The Great Detective?
Double Trail. B Captain H. Holmes

409 The Lieutenant
or. Col. P. l

: 09..
By oseph

am.

By
470 The Duke of Dakota; or. Yank Yellowblrd'l\

Flory Gantlet. B Wm. H. Mannin .

471 The Heart of On Detective; or. figmg‘s Fill
Hand. By E. A. St. M01.

472 Six~Foot Si; or, The Man to “Tie To." By P. s.

- me. . ._
47B Gilbert of Gotham, the Steel Arm Detective; or. '
' the Powers of Air. By J. C. Cowdrid.

Fig ng .
474 Dadd Dead-Eye. the Despot of Dew-Drop' or, -

The smsel Joe. E. .

475 ahinkchinfi tighcch‘irfiesefehfictze' orbit; Dark
'or o t e an . . . . .

Bob Brent. Bummer; or, he Red Sen-Mildly

By 00L P. Ingraham. ' _ 

i
i

477 Dead—Arm Brandt; or. The Long Vengeance. 

By Jackson Knox.
478 Pinnacle Pete:
B. Eyi-ter

Bv W.

. - O

4'79 Gladiator Gabe. the Samson of Jack;
Yank "Yellowbird’l (hula Crude. ‘Wm-
Manning. - _

or.'l'be Fool From’WsyBuig,

i

      
     
 
    

etective; or, The FUCK!" M“  

\

 

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BEADLE’S*DIME*DBRARY.

Published Every lVednesday. ‘ Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

v

 

 

 

 

I
480 Hawks ar, the Man with a Secret; or. New 531 SaddleoChief Kit. the Pra'ric Centaur; or. The I

York ick’s Spirit Trail. By Captain Howard
Holmes. Y

481 The Silent Detectives; or. The Bogus Nephew.
By Leon Lewis.

482 Ocean Tramps; or. The Desperadoes of the Deep.
By Col. P. Ingraham.

483 Flush Fre’l. the River Sharp; or, Hearts for
Stakes. By Ed.Willett.

484 Captain Ready. the Red Ransomer; or Nick
I

l
l
i
l
l

Peddie‘s Wild West Inheritance. By Leo 1 Lewis. ;

485 Rowlock. the Harbor Detective: or The Terrible
Twins. By Jackson Knox.

486 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detective; or.
Ynnk Yellowbird’s Search-Brigade. By Wm. H.
Manning.

487 Sunshine Sam, Chip
Silent Trail of the Silent Six. By Capt. Iloward

Holmes.
488 The Thoroughbred Sgort; or, The Big Bracer‘s
Bequest. By Jos. E. adger. Jr.

489 The Pirate Hunter; or. The Ocean Rivals. By
Col. P. lngraham.

490 The Lone Hand in Texas; or. The Rcd-Gloved
Raiders of the Rio Grande. Bv A. W. Aiken.

491 ll zag and Cutt, the Invincible Detectives; or,
A cious Set of Scoundrels. By E. A. St..Mox.

«192 Border Bullet. the Prairie Sharpshooter; or.
Yank Yellowblrd’s Black Hills Colony. By Wm.
H. Manning.

493 The Scouts of the Sea; o’r, The Avenging Buc-
caneer. By Col. P. Ingraham.

494 The Detective‘s Spy; or. The Invisible Rook.
By Jackson Knox.

495 Rattlepate Rob; or The Roundhead’s Reprisal.
By Jon. E. Badger. r.

496 Richard Rediire. the Two Worlds Detective;
or. To the Bitter End. By Capt. H. Holmes.

497 The Fresh in Texas; Or. The Escobedo Millions.
By A. W. Aiken.

498 Central Pacific Paul. The Mail-Train S y; or,
Yank Yellowbird‘s Iron Trail. By Will am t1.
Manning.

499 Twilight C‘arlie. the Road Sport; or, Sulphur
Sam's Double. By J. C. Cowdrick.

500 The True Heart Paras; or. The Gentleman
Vagabond. By Dr. N. Dunbar.

501 Springsteel Steve. the Retired Detective; or.
The Relentless Shadower. By Jackson Knox.

502 Bareback Buck, the Centaur of the Plains; or.
The Trail of Six. By P. S. Wame.

503 The Dude from Denver; or, The Game at Ground
Hog By Wm. R. Eyster.

504 Solemn Saul the Sad Man from San Saba; or.
The. Big Shell-Out. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

505 Phil Fox. the Genteel Spotter' or the Private

.Secretary's Oath. By Captain H. Holmes.

506 Uncle Honest. the Peacemaker of Homet's
Nest; or. Yank Yellowbird versus the Leather
Jackets. By Wm. H. Manning.

507 The Drummer Detective; or. The Dead Straight
Trail. By Geo. C. Jenks.

506 Topnotch Tim the Mad Parson: or. The Bad
Men of the Bus n. By Major D. B. Dumont.

509 Old Falcon. the Thunderbolt Detective. or. The
Fatei'ul Legacy. By Jackson Knox.

510 El Moro, the Corsair Commodore: or. The Lion
of the Lagoon. By Col. P. lngraham.

511 Paint Pete. the Praire Patrol; or, The Rival
Rancheros. By Maior S. S. Hall.

512 Ca tain Velvet's Big Stake; or. The Gold Goths
of o Man’s Ground. By Capt. H. Holmes.

518 Texas Tartar. the Man with Nine Lives: or.
Yank Yellowbird‘s Best Yank. By W.R.Manning.

514 Gabe Gunn. the Grizzly from Ginseng; or.
Solemn Saul‘s Seraph. By Jos E. Badger, Jr.

515 Short Stop Ma'e. the Diamond Field Detective;
or. Old Ealcon 3 Master Game. By J. Knox.

516 Chatard, the DeadShot Duelist; or. The Fate-
ful Heritage. By Col. P. Ingraham.

517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail; or. Will Cody, the
Pony Express Rider. By Ned Buntllne.

518 Royal Richard the Thoroughbred: or. Long
Pete Jenkins‘s )onvoy. By John W. Osbon.

519 Old Riddles, the Rocky Ranger; or. The Reser-
vation Castaways. By J. C. Cowdrick.

520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo; or. The Bad
Man of the Big Bayou By A. W. Aiken.

521 Paradise Sam. the Nor’West Pilot: or. Yank
Yellowblrd‘s Great Dilkivery. By W. H. Manning.

5619 The Champion Three; or. Six-Foot Si‘s Clean
Sweep. By P. S. Warne.

598 Reynard of Red Jack; or, The Lost Detective.
By Captain H. Holmes.

524 The Sea Chaser; or. The Pirate Noble. By Col.
P. lngraham. -’

. 5% Fresh Frank, the Derringer Daisy; 0r. Millions

on the Turn. By Wm. B. Eyster.

5M Death-Grip the Tenderroot Detective‘ or, A
Still Hunt or Old Secrecy. ByGeo. C. oaks.
Dand Andy. the Diamond Detective; or The
W TwinsyotTiptop. By Jos. s. Badger, Jr. '

as Bucklebe , the Foot-Bills Detective; or, The
Rival on .

By Lieut. A. K. Sims
599 The Fresh in New York; or. The Vendetta of
Kate. By A. W. Aiken.

MThe Sav of the Sea; or. The Avonzing
Cruiser. 'g'ca P. Ingrahun. a I

 

,‘ 538 Rube
of the Old Block; or, The

Border Blacksmith’s Terrible Temptation. By

Wni. ll. Manning. ‘

532 J'tvcrl, the Independent Detective; or. Captain
Cinnabar in New York. By Capt. H. Holmes.

533 ()r-gon. the Sport with a Scar: or. The Best
Man of Brace Box. By Wm. R. Eyster.

5M Greenmountain Joe; or. The Counterfeiter's
Cave By Marmaduke Dcy.

535 Dandy Dutch. the Dccora‘or from Dead—Lift; or.
Saul Sunday‘s Search for Glory. By J. E. Badger.

536 Oil Falcon‘s Fl 10; or. The Matchless Detective‘s
S .ell Job. By Jackson Knox.

537 Blake, the Mountain Lion; or. The Fresh Against
the Field. By Albert \V. Aiken.

Rocket. the" Tent Detective;
Treacherous Two. By Geo. C. J enks.

539 Old Doubledark. the Wily Detective' or. The In-
visible Foe‘s Masquerade. By Wm.  Manning.

540 The Fleet Scourge; or. The Sea Wing of Salem.
By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

541 Ma'or M et. the Man 01' Nerve; or, The Muck-
a-N ucks o Animas. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

542 The Ocean Drift; or, The Fight for Two Lives.
By A. F. Holt.

5433 The Magnate Detective; or. Major Million‘s
Joust with the Witch. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

544 The Back to Back Pards; or. The Right Man in
the Wrong Place. By Philip S. Warne. _

515 Hustler Harr . the Cowboy Sport; or. Daring
Dan Shark's eneral Delivery. By W. G. Patten.

546 The Doomed Whaler; or. The Life Wreck. By 7
Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ;

547 The Buried Detective; or. Saul Sunday‘s Six
Sensations. By Jus. E. Badger, Jr.

548 Falconbridge. the Sphinx Detective; or. The 3
Siren of the Baleful Lye. By Jackson Knox. l

549 Belshazzar Brick. the Bailiff of Blue Blazes; or. !
Four Horse Frank's Frolic at Bad Luck Bar. ‘
By Wm. R. Eyster. I

550 Silk Hand. the Mohave Forret: or. The Marked '
Man of Arizona. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

551 Gar Kean the Man with Backbone; or. The i
Glad ators of Jack‘s Delight. Jiy W. H. Manning.

552 Prince Primrose the Flower of the Flock‘ or.
The Grand Camp at Paradise Gulcn. By Lieut.
A. K. Sims.

553 Monte the Mutineer; or. The Branded Brig.
By Co . P. Ingraham. |

551 Mad Shar . the Rustler; or. The Drummer De- I
tective’s B g Lay-out. By Geo. C Jenks.

555 Gri ~Sack Sid. the Sample Sport; or, the Rivals
of ock-about Range. y Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

556 Fresh. the Sport-L'hevalier; or. A Big Racket at .
Slide Out. By A. W Aiken. ‘

557 The Mountain Graybeards: or. :
Greatest Riddle. By J C. Cowdric i

558 Hurrah Harry.1he Hi h Horse from Halcyon; or. l

or, The

kOld Riddle‘s

High Old times at ard Pan. By W.R. Evster.
559 Danton. the Shadow Sharp; or. The Queen of the
Hidden Hands. By Capt. Howard l.olmes. ‘
560 The Man from Mexico; or, The Idol 01' Last
Chance. By Col. P. lngraham. r
561 The Thug King; or. The Falcon Detective’s In '
visible Foe. By Jackson Knox. '
562 Lone Hand, the Shadow; or. The Master of the i
‘ Triangle Ranch. By Albert W. Aiken. l
56‘} Wyoming;] Zeke. the Hots )ur of Honeysuckle; ‘
or. Old uniility's Hard load to Travel. By
Wm. H. Manning ;
564 The Grip-Sack Sharp; or, The Seraphs of Sodom.
By Jos. E. Badger. r. l
565 Prince Paul. the Postman Detective; or. Crush-
ing a Serpent’s Head. By J. C. Cowdrick. !
566 The Dauntless Detective; or. The Daughter "
AVenger. By Tom \A. King.
567 Captain Midnight. the Man of Craft; or, The
Road-Knight‘s Plot. By P. S. Wame. .
568 The Dude Detective' or Phelin McGallagin‘s '
Hard Luck Hustle. By Wm. R. Eyster. '
569 Captain Cobra. the Hooded Mlystery; or This i
\Qulckened Dead. By Captain oward Ho mes.
570 The Actreés Detective; or. The Invisible Hand.
By Albert W. Aiken.
571 Old Dismal. the Range Detective: or. The Hid-
den Cabin 01 Wind Canyon. By Wm. G. Patten.
572 Jaunty Joe. the Jockey Detective. By Geo. C."
Jenks.
578 The Witch of Shasta; or. The Man of Check.
Ry Major Daniel Boone Dumont.
574 Old Falcon’s Double. By Jackson Knox.
575 Steady Hand the Napoleon 01' Detectives.
By W lliam H Manning.
576 Silver-Tongued Bid or The Gri Sack Sharp‘s
Clean Sweep. By. Joséph E. gar. Jr.
577 Tom of Californir or the Actress Detective’s
Shadow Act. By Albeit w. Aiken. -
578 Seven Shot Steve. the Sport with a Smile. By
WI mR. ster.
579 Old Cormomnt. the Bowery Shadow. By Capt.

Howard Ho
1 Shadow: or. The Pacific Slope

5w Shadowin
Detective I Triple Trail. By J. C. Cowdrick.

581 The Ouflawed Skipper; or. The Gantlet Banner.
By Col. P. Int-sham.

as: Joram. the Detective Expert. ByJaohon Knox.
588 Captain Adair. the Cattle King; or, A Bad
Ransom. By

P. S. Warns.

 

584 Fire Feather. the Buccaneer King. By Ned
liuntline. .

585 Dan Dixons Double; or. The Deadlock of Danger
Divide. By Wm. H. Manning.

586 The Silver Sharp Detective; or. The Big Rustic
at XL Ranch. 3y Albert W. Aiken

587 Conrad, the Sailor Sp ; or. The True Hearts of
‘76. By Col. Prentiss ngraham.

588 Sandy Sands. the Sharp from Snap City; or,
Hoist by His Own Petard. By Joseph E. Badger.

589 Prince Hal, the Battling Detective; or, Pat Lydn.
the Master Locksmith By Charles Morris.

590 Gentle Jack, the High Roller from Humbug: or,
The Dark Deal at Doubledeck. By W. R. Eyster.

591 Duke Daniels. the Society Detective, or, Caging
the Uncanny Birds. By J. C. COvvdrick.

59:: Captain Sid. the Shasta Ferret: or. the Rivals of
Sunset. By Captain Howard Holmes.

593 The Sea Rebel; or. The Red Rovers of the Revo-
lution. By Col. Prentiss lngraham.

594 Fire Face. the Silver King‘s Foe; or, The Mys-
terious Highwayman. By Albert W. Aiken.

595 Wellboru. the Upper—Crust Detective: or. Play-
ing for the Challoner Millions. By Jackson Knox!

596 Rustler Rube. the Round-Up Detective. By
William H. Manning.

597 Big Bandy. the Brigadier of Brimstone Butte.
By Josep E. Badger. Jr.

598 The Dominie Detective: or. The Deedham Sen-
sation. By J. C. Cowdrick. .

599 The Dead Shot Nine: U. My Pards of the Plains.
By Hon Wm F. Cody. (Buffalo Bill).

600 The Silver Ship; or. The Séa Scouts of ‘76.
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

601 Joe Phenix‘s Shadow; or. The Great Detective’s
Mysterious Monitor. By Albert W. Aiken.

602 Captain Namelessthe Mountain Mystery; or. The
Blue Coats of the Big Horn. By Wm. G. Patten.

603 Desert Alf the. Man With the Con ar; or. The
Strange Pilgrimage of Gentle Jac : By Vlm..
R. Eyster. I ‘

604 The Detective in Rags; or, The Grim Shadower.
By Dr. Noel Dunbar.

605 The Shadow Silver Ship; or. The Red Rebel of
the Revolution. By Col. Prentiss lngrahum.

606 Thquo Detective; or. The Dreamthorpe Sen-
sation. y Jackson Knox. .

607 Old Benzine the “Hard Case " Detective; or.
Joe Bowers‘ Racket at Bicaree City. By Albert
W. Aiken. «

608 Silent Sam. the Shadow Sphinx- or, Following
the Invisible Trail. By Capt. H. ( lmes.

609 The Texas Tramp; or. Solid Saul. the Yankee
Hercules. By Capt. F. Whittaker,

BY

. 610 The Red Flag Rover; or. White Wings of the

Waves. By Col. Prentiss lngraham.

‘ 611 Alkali Abe the Game Chicken tram Texas; or,

The Smash-Up in
Wm. H. Manning.
612 Sheriff Stillwood. the Regulator of Raspberry;
or, The "Suspects" from Frisco. By J. C.
Cowdrick.
618 Keen Bill . the Sport; or. The Circus at White .
Gopher. 3y Albert W. Aiken.

“ No-World Kingdom.” By

, 614 The Showman Detective; or. The. Mad Magician.

By Capt. F. Whittaker.
615 The Three Buccaneers; or. The Ocean Outlaw's

Nemesis. By Colonel Prentiss Ingranam.
616 i‘lgagnus, the Weird Detective. By Jackson
nox.

617 The Grip-Sack Sharp's Even-up: or. The Boss
Racket at Solid City. By Joseph E. Badger.

618 Kansas Karl, the Deteclixe King; or. The Sphinx
ot Leadville. By I..ieut. . K. Sims.

619 Kit Bandy & Co.. the Border Detectives. or. The
Big Wipe Out at Hermit Dome. By 011 Coomes.

62) Joe Phenlx‘s Silent Six; or. The Great Detec.
tive's Shadow Guard. By Albert W. Aiken.

621 The Red Privateer; or. The Midshipman Rover.
By Ned Buniline.

623 The All Around Sports; or. The Keepers of the
Seals. By Wm. R. Eyster.

6% Dangerous Dave the Never-Beaten Detective;
or, A Fight with Foes from the Grave. By Wm.
H. Manning.

624 The Submarine Detective; or, The Water Ghouls.
By Leon Lewis. ‘

695 Red Wings; or, The Gold Seekers of the Bahamas.
By Colonel Prentlhs Ingraham.

696 Dual Dion. the Nabob Sport Detective: 01'.
The Sealed Secret 01' the wpper Collin. By
J. C. Cowdrick.

697 Mossback Mose. the Mountaineer or. The Bald
Hornet 5)! the Ozark Hilb- ! Joseph E.
WI. 1'. a

Ready October 99.

$8 Joe Phenix’s Combine: or. The Dandy Conspira-
tor. By Albert W. Aiken.
Ready November 5.
A mimic m Wednesday.

Beadle" mm. Library is for sale by all ‘
Nowadcalcn. tonesntspercopy. or not by radio.
receipt of twelve cents each.

BIADLE AND ADAMS. Pall-hon.
I William are... New York.

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