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Copyrighted. 1391. by BLAULE AND Aunts.

tam-nun As AKLUhL) pubs mum-m. u- m: At“ 10:11:, K. L, POST UI‘HCI.

if r r 7 7777A Jul: 1,181.
Published Every eBeadZe @- fldams, @ulflishePS, Ten CentssCopy.
N0.  . Wednesday. 98 meMM STREET. NEW YORK 86.00 I Year.  LI.

 

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‘shoulders than the maiden.

. through one of the most beautiful valleys in an

I in after having

' be done with t e servants, so she urged

.go, a you will let'me have the pistol [you put!!!

, ' pia'zzd, andhm 'srrival'wns 

3 Km: arewelcmne. ,. I.

define that?" was

‘a' ' ‘ vern, o-
m' ' ' I

2

The‘ Jew Detective.

 

[Dasuamnxos Rienrs RssnavnoJ

The Jew Detective;

THE BEAUTIFUL CONVIC 1‘.

BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM, ;

aoraon or “MERLE, THE MUTINEER,” “ MONTE
CRISTO AFLOAT,” ETC., arc.

CHAPTER I.
AN EVENTFL'L NIGHT.

“ BROTHER, do not go to the village, please,
but remrn with me to Oak Ridge Farm."

“ No, sis, I willlgo on to the village, for I wish
to see some of the fellows, and you are but a
mile from Oak Ridge, and can easily go on
along, for it isnot dark yet.”

The two were brother and sister, and as near
alike as two rsous can be, except’iglg that the
youth was s ightly taller, and broader

 

They were the twin children of a millionaire
physician of New York city, who, a widower,
and retired from practice, deVoted his life to the
ha ) illness of his son and daughter.

{Jhere the one, the daughter, had b ' her de-
votion more than repaid him for his low and
care of her, the son had brought many a gray ‘
hairto mingle with- thta black locks on his fa-
ther’s head, by his wild and reckless life, until.
at the age of seventeen, when presented to the
reader, he wa< noted about town as a young
profli ate andspendthrift, for he uandcrcdnot
only t e liberal allowance he received from the
doctor, but also a lar e portion of his sister‘s,
and ran deeply in debtllx’sxdes.

The tw when presented to the reader, sat
upon their rses at the forks of a road leading

Eastern State.

They were passin their vacation at Oak Ridge
Farm the old esta of their father, and where
he been born, and were returning at a gal-
, spent the day with some ‘
f ends, when they came to the forks of the road,
one leading home the other to the village, a
00}:er of miles distant. '

ere Frank Keene had drawn reih with»the
remark that he would go on to the village for an
hour or so.

Cora knew well that this meant a carounl
with the fast young men of the place and per-
haps a night of  ,

heir ather been called West to look
after some pro rty he hadithere, and she 

brother to accompany her. home, for every time
thhiglt he left her she dreaded evil might befall

As the two sat there in their saddle, raining
in their. irited horses, they certaith were a-
very strik g-looking couple, for the b0 d, manly
face of Frank Keene was toned down to the
beautiful in Cora, while her form was exquisite.
ly molded. _ '

They were both blondes, their hair a 'ch
golden brown, being of the same hue, and t eir
eyes as blue” indigo, large, expremive and full
'of hitensef :1 . .

Both Were dressed in riding-suits in the ex-
treme of fashion, though Frank Keene rather
ed toward a sport in his love of jewelry.
nowin’g that argument was uselm when her

brother had made up; his. m cm- sighed,
while the team rose her , eyes, and
she was about to ride,on along .Oak Ridge,
When the thought struck her that  was

a .
' to, remove from him 
211:) £31” a weapon, should 
“Brother's is growin late and a is not
right to send me on alone g) the  but I will

your t thisvmorning.” -

“ aka it, six, for when ,I mahome it
witharush, dedo not use wands," W
sinall, silver-mounted ts‘rani J
his pistol- hot and g, *to‘ his sister. 
afmrpleogxwith himnottqremainl 
onalone,her rother jthespurs‘  s
honqand dashing swiftly ,toward the will-V

he darted up to the avg-n door of the" lit-

tle tow the swinging lamp, st lighted, re-
vealedgho hewastoagronpw' sat upon the

”.
lowed , _ u of fast youths,
but not one  two years

his senior. ~
Dre. in his riding-suit, erect as an Indian,

- woods, some distance beyond the forks of the
. road, when suddenly, with % loud snort, he

' the old mansion, came the cry:

'wback lam he f th bac
.301! as rung tom 9
'  8p

,I *‘Therehe'was’ found 3% several youngr men
returningfroma sere, party and obey-

swill‘b‘a’ Doctor

 

haugh in bearing, rich and lavish with his
money, the youth was a welcome visitor to the

, and his sycophants gathered around
him, well knowing that wine would flow, and

I

they enjoy it, and then a game of cards would
follow and they reap the benefit of it.

And wine did flow until brains grew dizzy
and then the party of young sports adjourned
to an upper mom of the tavern, and until mid—
night the shuilling of cards and thinking of gold,
with an occasional ejaculation of (l-_~li(_"lit, or a
muttered oath of disappointment, broke the si-
lence.

At last, dazed with nine, and a heavy loser to
his pretended friends, Frank Keene descended to
the stable-yard, mounted his horse and started
for home.

His horse knew well the way and had before
borne his rider in safety, when he was too much ‘
dazed b drink to take care of himself, and, con- I
scious o the helplessness of his master, he ambled I
slowly along until he had gotten into a copse of i

Sprung to one side and Frank Keene was thrown
heavily to the ground. ,
Awa , in mad terror, the animal his
hoof-fa s awa loud echoes in the st ni ht
air, and startling the patiently-waiting sta le-
boy at Oak Ridge from a nap as he dashed up to
the mansion.
:‘ Oh Lordy! Masha Frank hain’t on Brickbat,”
gried the nr'gt‘o, seizing the rein of the trembling
orse.
Instantly, from an open window in a wing of

“Tobey, do you mean it, that Master Frank
has not come .4”

.“ Yes, missy' Brickbat have conned, and looks
skeert ter dent , for he tremble like he had a
chill, but Massa Frank hain’t here,” was the an-
swer. ' '

. “‘ Spring upon his back and return to see what
is the matter, and I will send the carria e at
once.” cried Cora from the window, and obey
instantlv obeyed, mounting Brickbat and ridi
rapidly back toward the villa 9, While the mzfi
den, dreadin revil of some kinr , descended from
her room an aroused the servants, at the same
time ordering “the carriage to be sent after her
brother. , '

As she entered ighellbrari, after issuing her
orders, it could be said “lots e was fullydressed,
a toilet that showed ‘she had not retired for the
ni t.

or face was Whfiie,  her lovely mbuth wore

    
  
  
 

 
 

a stra  e ression for one so young.

 s, "I H  ,c tightly before her, she
 ,   ' - starting at every sound, and
m ' ' ' every ew moments:

“!Oh_! what a bitter night this has been to

e

“ WillI,'can I eVer _ .i‘ace it from in memory?”
At Installs started as the sound of oofs broke
ear, and a moment after she met Tobey

,
ascended th steps.
«wennt , e
Harveicewas house,and she could say no

mm. u

“ The carria am coming, Missy Core, with
fimfim, or he done been, thrown from his

rse. '

“ And killedf’f she 

“ Oh, no, tniiny' bu hut-ted considerable; but
I done no and ask Doctor Travers to come over,
and he be are right off.” ,

A few moments more and Doctor Travers rode
up and dismounted at the door. -

. He was met by Cara, white—faced and ques-

tioning.
"‘Donotbealarmed,Miss Cora rFrank is
'i ,4 though seflouslyspso,” he said

O
in his gen 9 my.

“ Thank God!”

“It seems,” continued the doctor “that he
was thrown from ,mfle, which then dashed
on ‘ljiome, laying lying stunned in the
roa . '

coming they were bringing ome than

that met ecan'iageandhe , soonbe ere,
sod) P12le alarmed.” ,

Cor'acnade no reply, but at once. set to work

to prepare Frank’s room for his reception, while,
in Travers patient] {ignited s do“1 ,

iean glagainstr 'a pillar 0 plan. an

smoking withthatjssem indifference

which p ‘ " assume when even the mast

treasured ivés are at stake.

But Austin Travers was b no means indiffer-
ent, for he knew that in his nds was the life of
the son of a famous brother physician and the
brother of one whom he had earned, to 10%
with all the idolatry of his strong nature.

A youn man of twenty-five, a country. rac-
titioner ving upon his small farm, W'th ad-
mmd, , Ridge with its half a thousand acres,

"  Cora Keene two years before, when
he'hadv‘coine there to practice and bought ’his

little home. ” -‘ g .

Girl though she was, hound been drawn to-
ward her, and when each vacation she had re-
turned to Oak Rid e, she had endeared 
self more and more the heart of the young
doctor. .

Starting from the reverie into which he had
fallen, Doctor vers advanced to the door of

 

the carriage as i draw up before the piazza

steps, while from his lips broke the words that
showed how desperate indeed was the condition
of Frank Keene:

“ Heaven grant he be not dead !”

 

CHAPTER II.
JUDAH, THE JEW.

IN the dark shadows of a woodland, through
which the highway ran that led by the farm of
Oak Ridge, a man stood like a statue, his atti~
tude that of one who listened to catch a sound
that had seemingly, startled him.

At his feet lay a dark object, hardl discern-
ible in the gloom of night, rendered ( eeper by
the overhanging branches 7 of the trees, but
which was nothing more than a human being,
fgiffn all in a heap and lying motionless as death
1 i .

The sound which had attracted the attention
of the man who stood over the prestrate form of
a fellow—man. seemed to die away in the dis-
tance, for it reached his ears no more; but still
he stood there, almost as motionless as the one
who lay at his feet.

Certainly a tragedy had been enacted there in
that dark woodland. and he now standing like a
statue above the (lead must have been the one
who had struck the blow that laid a fellow-being
dead in the roadway.

" Ah, me! I know not what to do,” sudden]
broke from his lips, and hardly had the wor s
been uttered when suddenly there advanced al-
most u n him out of the shadow, the forms of
half a ozen men. - -

In his deep reverie he had seemingly not heard
their approach, though a 'while since he had
been startled by their voices in the distance.

“ Holdl or you are a man i”

The Words rung out sterniy, just ah the one to
whom they were addressed had turned, as
though to bound away in, flight; buthc checked
the in and, while an im 'on broke
lips, muttered to himse :
fate, be’it whatitmay.” .
p,’sirl?’_ cgled out the saute stern

,  the words:
“Gentlemen, , " vs no desire to either take
flifiht «Malflimgh I, ‘ so, , 13% found
un   liesat
myfeethereadeadmam” ' ‘

‘We know that, sir. and
murderer.”

“ Arrest me as the murderer I” came in tones
of horror from the one . . -'

"You heard my words,lsir, and you are my
priisllgnpr, for'wp Intro, I may say, proof of your
“Inlourfacei, 'thelieJorIsmss \
cent 0 this crhne on charge me with you
are.” was the rm g response of the a ' . ‘

“That you ' havato prove at your trial;
but we are convinced of your gnilthand will see

that you do not-escape the final .

Like (me trinsflxed wi hgryror the man
stood gaging .no hand, movin not, as he was
seized Wand enmsmh
towardthstownbehvsenfonrofhiscaptors
while two remained bythe body of the dead '

man.

A walk of a of miles and the risoner
was taken to am fail, the jailer ground,
and the irondoor of a ce 1 closed upon him with
a clang that echoed dismally through his  -
£33“ *n 1"” We °‘ h“ 332% “i

n secure mam man an
frolikean y Modifies e. .

To and fro, _ and fro he alked until the
dawn broke and the sunlight pierced the narrow
window and fell upon him.

Thus his face ' and form were revealed, and
where the one Was attractive-looking in the ex-
treme, the other was of superb hysique, and
his hearing that of one ,who dares ace his fel-
low-men without fear. _

He was a Jew, for the stain of hint-ace, indel.
ibly traced on the features all of his blood, ‘
was there, thou h so toned down as not to be at

first recognizab e

thHis weigh? tfind a 1itlpuhsnghe
esame ues 'su _r p” o it ’
not  iwholly the  ' 'Vo
mout wi heron " snowy  '
’ ,, rhnps under twenty"
’ ous

" -   we lder
r o ,
' 1" z. - .. 1 ]

   

eyes and not fel , , ‘ s
most to etism. '

men ' i "t “ ‘ .
Poorl et neatl dread,- and  bls
y’ y  cot a?!“ p,

sachel lymgonthe in his cell d a
parently  his worldly wealth, he ap-
peared its 01$th *8 not'possessed offal:

es:

His hands and feet Were small  s ly,

and as his eyes fell upon the ' ' , , » ;

his wrists a 1001: of anguish t (We): face,

and fromlflsli sbroke the ‘5,  '_ ‘ ‘
“Oh God 0 Abraham! that I W have

come to this!" - v .

, Presently the door ned and a rough-looking

man entered, and in is hand he bore a tray

upon which were a cup of coffee, an egg and

some bread.
“Here is our breakfast. though after your
red work of t night, I shouldn’t think you‘d

have much appetite,” he said. rudely.

\

 

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Oil-gin cw

1 in. th
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t. ‘ ‘ «v ‘ x' MK
;, .~.  t ,-?~ 0

 The J Detective.

 

 

 

“You ‘can take it away, for I care for noth-
ing,” the Jew answered, sternly. -

‘You knows best, sir,” said the jailer, with
some respect in his tone, for there was that in
the face and bearing of his prisoner that com-
manded it, and he turned away.

“ One moment, please.”

“ Yes, sir,” and the jailer hesitated.

“ Who were my accusers last ni ht?”

“ Some of the young bloods of t e village.”

“ And the man I am said to have murdered,
who is he 3”

“ No one knows, for he is a stranger in these

“ I am to be tried for his murder?”

“ Certain.” ‘

“ When?”

“ Court is sitting now, and I guess they’ll
make short work of your trial.”

“ And circumstantial evidence may hang me?”

“The evidence of your guilt is retty lain,
for the man was dead, you stood y the y
and the pistol you carried was a derrin er, had
no load in it, and the bullet it carries gust fits
the wound in the head of the murdered man.”

“Still, with all this seeming proof against me,
I am not guilty."

The jai er shook his head and said:

“ That 'ou‘ll have to prove at the trial, or—”

“ Or w at?“ asked the Jim. as the man turned
awa .

“ ang,” was the low. 8' ' cant response, as

the iron door closed upon retreating form of
the villa annex“.

“My ! must I, Alvan Judah, die on the
gallows? ‘

“No! no! no! it must not, shall not be, for
those of my race never die at the hands of a
hangman,” and as he uttered the words there
came over the J ew’s face a look of firm resolve
which showed that his mind was made up to
some stern determination. .

 

CHAPTER III.
A STRANGE “SOLVE.

Wm Frank Keene unconscious and limp
was borne into Oak Ridge Mansion, and placed
uponhisbed, Cora aawata lancethat he was
more desperately-hurt than r Travers had
wifihed her to begileve. 00 K M

u o as e was, ra eene a
remai'kl’ib‘llggcommand over herself, and she set
to work to do all in her power for the erring
brother whom she so devotedly loved.

Doctor Travers, when he got his tient in his
hands, began at once to make at examination
of his injuries, for when he had seen him 1 '
in the roadway he had been unable tomore
glance hastilyfiizfihe yang; and adv'be his being

sent home m
“A broken arm,” _muttered. as he went
to form in his exam-

carefully over the
ination. .

“- A gash over the temple, but no fracture of
the skull—yes, and a couple of ribs broken—
these are all, thank Heaven, excepting some
bruises and on ”

“ He will live then?"

The doctorstartod, forhe hadnotheard Cora
come into the room.

“Yes, I shall devote my whole attention to
him, Miss Core, and there is every hope he will
pull through all right.” . ‘

“ But he remains unconscious so long."

:c'lk‘hat is the effect of concussion uni the

“And father
“Heis _ Ibelieve?”

bilge is in em; but I can telegraph for
m

“No, for it will onlyworryhim and as you
know, Miss Cora, your father I rs in an
affection of the heart, and the shock might kill
him, for his hfe seems _ up in may,”

~ “ As mine is also, Doctor vars; but I leave
him in your hands, for I feel confident that you

will save his life.” I
“I will do all in my power. Mm Cora—for

‘your sake,” he added, in a low, earnest

But Cora. had glided fromfiheroom, the
d r was alone with his final.“- ‘
upon him an t in deep thought,

he murmured. . ~

“ Oh, that he were different! . .

“ How strange thafidhe, so like his beautiful
M. shouldbe 80 W and reckless in his life,
and far better would it be for him now to die
than to live and bring dishonor and sorrow upon

tho-e who love him as he ' y will do.
 “"Yes, it would he better t he died, and
time would heal the woundst th made in the
b ,of his sister and father while living, he
wl‘ll w their heads in shame, i fear. . ~
‘3‘“ I pledged myself to save him, and if

mancandolt I will, for her sake, though he is
d Patel)? hurt. ” ‘ ,

servant now entered and the doctor set to
his 15981: With a will.

The broken arm and ribs were set, the cuts
and bruises were and the patient made
as comfortable as was posible though he still
lay in a state of coma, and whether it would end
Who could know? to
night‘passed away, and still the faith-

,.

  

 

’ful physician remained at his post of duty, until

at last he told Corn, who stole into the room,
that the crisis was past and that her brother
would live, though he must have the most de—
voted care and perfect quiet.

i

“ I will take care of him myself," replied the ‘

noble girl, and most faithfully she kept her word.
hardl leaving his bedside day or night, and then
only oing so when almost commanded by Doc-
tor Travers to seek repose

As Frank Keene grew better he became peevish i

and found fault with everybody and everything,
but Cora bore his ill—humor meekly, until one
day he wasso unkind toward her that she called
a servant to remain with him while she ordered

her horse for a gallopof a few miles, for she felt ,

that she needed exerCIse.

As she turned into the road from the Oak
Ridge gatewa she met Doctor Travers, also
upon horseback:

His face brightened as he saw her, for he had
come to love her far more through her devotion
to her brother, and be said, cheerily:

“ Good-morning. Miss Cora; I am delighted to
see you out on horseback, for you have been so
devoted ,a nurse that I have been anxious regard-
m on. «

5‘ came for a gallop, and will be glad to have

me. .
“ Gladly: but how is Frank?”

“As cross as a bear,” she answered, panting
he}: full, red lips.

A good Sign; but which we shall we ride?” ‘

“I wished to see the spot w ere Frank was
thrown.”

“ I will ride there with you; but has he said
anylt‘hgi’ng to you regarding his experience that

‘ How do you mean, Doctor Travers?”

“ He was returning from the village, I be-
lieve?”

_ “get: anddyou infer that he had been drink-
s e sai , frank] .
mg Yes, I know that he had.”

“True, and he was not himself; but he seems
to remember that some one sprung for his bridl
rein, and his horse darting to one side threw him
to the and.”

“ Does he remember aught else?”

“ No, or if he does, he will say no more upon
the subject.”

“ Are you aware that he was robbed?”

“ Ah! I remember now that he wears no jew-

glryihis watch, shirtstuds and rings being gone, _
u

had half-feared that—”

Here Cora paused, and her face flushed,,and
the doctor asked; ‘

“What did you fear, Miss Cora?”

,“To be frank with you, Doctor Travers I
feared he had gambled heavily, and left his
watch and jewelry as security for his losses, as
Iamnsorry to say poor Frank has often done he-

ore.

“ Did you notice that there were scratches up-
on his left-hand little finger, where he wore a
diamond?” ‘
it  Yes; I did notice this, now that you speak of

"‘That roves that the ' , which was small
for him, been torn off in te' in fact, Miss
Cogs, gur brother was attacked that night and
re bed

“ Indeed! but by whom?”
‘f That I wish now to make known to you, for
it uh W ' that he was not the only victim that

‘What can you mean, Doctor Travers?”
asked Cora, while her face turned deadly

0.

They had now reached the copse of woods
through which the roadran, and the doctor drew
rein updn the t where Frank Keene had been
thrown from h home.

“ I have not before told you, Miss Cora, that
there has been considerable excitement in the
Village of late, regarding a y thatoccurred
the night your brother was wn,‘for I felt
that you had trouble enough at home, and I told
the servants not to speak you upon the sub-

Ject.

“The fact is that here is where a footmd
up out to attack your brother, and when he
was ownandstunned,hewas robbedb
Iithe‘yretch whose act so nearlycost him h

e. -

“And who was his assailant?” asked Cora, in
a v0 ce that quivered with emotion.

" Jew.”

_"‘ A Jew rob a man on the highway? '

“This is not the character of that people,

“ Travers,” said Cora. . , ' .

True; but there are exceptions to all rules,
Miss Cora, and this Jew is the exception to his
People, though I confess he does not look like
either an assassin or a highwayman, for a more
noble specimen of manhood I never saw.”

“ $2: ltiavtli seen him, then?” ' he

' or w ' ‘ w
he is on. 3, ant to court this mommg re

2 0n trial for robbing my brother?”

Miss Cora, there is a far worse charge

“Yes:for_onyonder notahundred
from where your bmthermwas assailed, am
i . . i\. ‘ » i "

  

   

company, Doctor Travers, if you care to join I

r
l
i
y
l
l

l

l
I

 

“—

  

3

#3

foot of that large tree, a dead man was found
upon the very spot where Frank was hurt. ”

Cora uttered no word of surprise. but bent
her face low, as though half-stunned bythe
news, and the doctor com inned:

“ It seems that the J cw. gentleman though he
appears, was tramping alon this road, and he
not only attacked your brot ier, to rob him, and
did so, while he lay unconscious at his feet,
but healso shot and killed another person, fir-
ing upon him evidently from behind yonder

r .

ee.

“ And they caught the man who did this?”
asked Cora, m a voice that was hardly audible.

" Yes, he was found standing over the body
of the man he had slain, and at his feet was a
handkerchief containing your brother’s watch,
jewelry and pocket—book, so he was a
thrown into jail. and is now on trial, and my
word for it he will be hanged, i )r the evidence
of his guilt is conclusive.”

“ Doctor Travers, I must go to that trial.

“Come, you must go with me,” cried Com,
in a voice t at fair] rung in its earnestness.

“No, Mizs Cora, or—”

“I will hear no argument against it Doctor
Travers, for I will go and at once, and if you
will not accompany me I will go alone.”

Doctor Travers was astounded at the excite—
ment of the girl.

“Has her long siege of nursing her brother
turned her mind ?” he muttered.

But Cora was not to be put off, and said al-
most angril :

“Come, 511', will you go with me, in the ab-
sence of my father and brother to escort me, or
shall I go alone?” a

“I will go with you, of course, Miss Cora,
but—”

“ Then come, for there is no time to lose,” and
she dashed away at a swift gallop, leaving Aus-
tin Travers but one thing to do, and that was to
put spurs to his horse an follow her.

CHAPTER IV.
~ cons's CONFESSION.

ALVAN J UDAH was a braveman; but in prison
in a strange place, with no friend near, no one
to call upon for aid, he felt that fortune was
against him.

“ I have no money, and I have no friends, so
why need I send for a lawyer?

“No, Iwilltellmystoryas it is,and if they
do not believe me I cannot'help it, and I must
takd’ the consequences, and I will and bravely,
too, for I am no coward. ”

Sohethoughtaloud ashepaced his little cell
the night before his da of trial.

Thejailerhad told ' that all felt that he
was guilty,and advimdeto ta lawyer; but
Alva iJudah hadtold himthat. 6 had nomoney

to one.
. fPa'l'hen send for your friends,” suggested the

er. .

“ I have no friends,” was the sad reply.

“You are in a bad way then.”

“ Yes, I am only a :- Jew, with no home,
no money, and no friends,”. and the tone in
which this was said touched even the hard heart
of the jailer, accustomed daily to scenes )1 woe
and wretchedness.

 

So desperate was the situation of the Jew con-
sidered that none of the young la era would .
oil'ertotakehis caseand thus ink irnames,

with a failure when starting,- upon their career.
At last the day came round when‘the trial was

to be held,a.nd in irons.and accom ' by
two constables, Alvan Judah was to the
court-house.

He was but firm, and his fine faoeaeemed
tocreatoan, ion inhisfavorashewas
placed in the prisoner’s dock.

Calml he glanced over the court-room, his
eyes falllug  iiponof Itlhestern j tlwn
restingupon't aces teury,one yone
the men whoheldhislifeintheiirhandsandtheii
his sw tover the crowd who had come to
Wham-ft ' for murder. '

Not one facedid he see that-was friendly to ,

him.

The court opened, the prisoner was
asked who was his wyer.

“ I have no legal adviser, your honor,”th

,repli, delivered in a deep, rich—toned voice that

every ear in the crowded court-room,
“ Do youwish the court to appointa lawyerto
defend you?” asked the judge, guing with in-

. “ honor,  $5,810: legal
. mac“ degnd myself,wi cmirt’l
tom), non,

.myprofeasion being that ofanat-

At this a murmur ran around the mum, and
thecmirtgmntingpermmtonfor the prisoner to
be his own attorney, the tnal .

Mostattentivel did AlvanJu h listentothe
charges against in, made by the halfdooen'
young men who had been his tors

Heheardoneof themtell estoryof how
thev had been out to a farm-house serenading,
and returninfibzt the forks of themed, their ve-
hicle had bro down, and one of their number
hiv‘ started for the nearest house for aid. \

Suddenly, while walking the wood-
land, he had beheld a man some ance before
him, enl feelingthat his actionswere suspicious,

 
  
   
 
 
    
  
    
  
  
     
   
    
  
  
   
    
  
   
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
    
   
     
    
   
    
   
   
   
 
 
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
    
 
  
  
  
  
     
    
  
  
   
      
   
     
      

.1

4

The Jew Detective.

 

 

 

he had returned for his comrades and they had
crept up to the sp4 it and discovered the prisoner
standing over the body of a dead man.

Upon seein them he had started to escape, but
evidently rea izing the impossibility of domg so,
he had quietly submitted to arrest.

The dead man none of the party recognized,
but he had evidently been robbed, and by his
side they found a handkerchief tied up at the
four corners, and containing a gold watch and
chain, a diamond and a seal ring, some diamond
shirt-studs, a pair of valuable sleeve-buttons and
a pocket-bolik in which Were some forty dollars
in bank-notes.

This handkerchief was silk and had embroid-
ered in one corner the initials,

“D. D.”

The valuables were known to belong to Frank
Keene, but the handkerchief was not his and an
owner for it could not be found.

The testimony went on to show that the pris-
. oner bad evidently first halted Keene,
causin his horse to throw him, and then
rob him, and afterward before he had
tten far from the spot, had either been
scovered in his act, or come upon the mur-
dered man, and to cover up his tracks or a ain
for the purpose of robbery, had taken the lige of
the deceased.

He certainly had been found by the dead body,
and at his feet was the handkerchief containin
, the valuables of Frank Keene, which he
1
l
I

 

dropped there to search the body.

other the dead man had been robbed of
anything or no was not known, as nothing of
v us was foun upon the prisoner, other than a
; purse in which were some twenty dollars, a sea]
I ring, a silver watch and a derringsr isto],
I which was unloaded and showed that it been

lame discharged.

This weapon had the initials A. J. upon it,
which accorded with what the Jew stated his
name to be, and the death-wound in the fore-
head of the dead man had been madewith a bul-
let which exactly fittcd thetprisoner’s pistol.

' In the little sachel of e Jew only a few
of clothing had been found, with noth-

- ban

‘Egie of a. suspicious nature to show that he
, committed other robberies.

. After several of the party had taken the pris-
oner to jail, those left to watch the bod , had
discovered the prostrate form of Frank ICeene
lying further on in the road, and at first believed
him to be dead; but just then Tobe ', the negro
coachman of Oak Ridge Farm ha dashed us,
mounted u n his young master’s horse, and t 6
youth had 11 soon after removed to his home,
and had been since too ill, the doctor had stated,
to make any report of what had happened.

Still, the testimony of Frank Keene had not
been considered necessary, especially as Doctor
Travers had stated the youth had not been in a
condition to know what had occurred and the
far graver charge of murder, not robbery, was
the one the Jew was to be tried for.

Such was the tcstimon of the witnesses against
Alvan Judah, and that e was guilty not one in
the court-room doubted.

When he arose to address the court in his own
behalf, he glanced fearlesslylaround upon all, and
towered up to his full big t, prcwnting a strik-
' and commandin ap rance.

n his sonorous v01ce, bat reached every part
of the court-room, Alvan Judah told his story,
one of bitter tr als and sorrow:

He was the n of wealthy parents, and had
been born in a. Southern State, e said; but just
as he had been admitted to the bar as a. lawyer,
his father’s health had failed him, and being or-
dered to Mexico by his physician, he had accom-
panied him thither, as it was the duty of a filial
son to do.

There his father had entered into tions
which had swamped his fortune and this had
broken his life wholly, so that soon after he died
and found a grave in a foreign land.

is

Soon after mother had followed his father
to the ave, and alone and in verty Alvan
Judah returned to the Uni States to try

and build up a name and fortune for himself.

He had taken on a schooner bound
from Vera Cruzto B08 11, and his finances be-
i low had set out on foot for New York.

account of the hot summer days he walked

. night, and thus had come upon the body of

t 0 dead man lying in the roadway under the
shadow of the overhanging trees.

He had stumbled over the body, and then had
examined it closely to see if the man was dead.

He had found the wound in the forehead, and
this told him foul play had been done.

The handkerchief, with its valuables, he had
found by the side of the body, and he had
thought he had heard the sound of some one run-
ning away fflilin the spot, though this might have
been on.

In conclusion Alvan Judah said, while the
court-room was as still as death:

“Gentlemen of the jury, I confess to you, with
deep shame, that I was sore] tem ted in my
poverty, to take that bandkerc ief o valuables,
well-knowin that they would keep me from
Want in the city to which I was going, un-
til I could obta. n work. _

“ But while I stood there, the tempter urging

 

me to take them and hasten on, my good angel
came to me and warned me not to fall a victim
to temptation, and I had just decided to 0 on ‘
my way and make known at the first farm— ouse ,
the discovery I had made, when those gentlemen, I
who are swearing away my life as witnesses ‘
against me, came suddenly upon me, and I was i
caught in a situation that may hang me. i

“As to the young gentleman who was found ‘
lying prestrate further along the road, I l
know nothing, and, so help me the God of Abra- i
ham, and the God of the Christians. I have told I
the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the _
truth.”

A sigh ran through the listeners. as Alvan :
Judah sat down, his eyes fixed fearless] upon "
the jury; but still, though his words ant hear-
ing had made a deep impression upon all, it was
easy to see that be was still believed guilty, and
the judge so charged in his address to the twelve
men who held the prisoner‘s life in their keep-

1n r.

éWithout leaving their seats they glanced at
each other, and reading in each face the thoughts
thereon impressed, I) mutual consent they came
to an agreement, an so the foreman stated when
asked by the court:

“ Gentlemen of the 'ury, have you decided
upon a verdict?” came t e ominous question.

“ We have,” was the deep response of the fore-

man.

Alvan Judah faced the jury with a face that
showed no atom of fear, and there was no
tremorin the hand that lay upon the table be-
fore him.

“ What say you, gentlemen of the jury, do
you find the prisoner ilty or not guilty?”

A stillness, such as aunts a tomb, was in the
room, as all awaited the reply.

A moment of deep suspense, and then one word
broke the silence.

It was:

“ Guilty!”

Every eye was upon the face of the risoner;
but it did not blanch, nor did the rm lips
quiver.

Whatever his emotions, Alvan Judah had
nerves of iron and showed no emotion whatever
when brou ht face to face with his cruel fate.

“What ve you to say, prisoner, why the
extreme penal of the law should not be
upon you for 0 crime of which you have been
found ilty?”

“I ve only to say, (your Honor, that cir-
cumstantial evidence con emns me to die an ig-
nominious death for a. crime of which I am not
guilty,” came in the unflinching voice of the

ow.

“ Prisoner, rise and receive sentence!”

Instantly Alvan Judah arose, the chains upon
his ankles clanking dismally, as he turned and
faced the man who was to pronounce his fearful
doom.

An instant of painful silence, and then the lips
of the stern old judge parted to pass the sen-
tence, when suddenly there was a commotion in
the rear of the court-room and a slender form
glided rapidly down the aisle and confronted
the judge, while there rung out in thrilling

tones:

“Hold there judge! Condemn not an inno-
cent man to death, for I, not that Jew, am the
guilty one!”

 

CHAPTER V.
A CONVICT LOVER.

AFTER the startling confession which Cora.
Keene made before the court, that she, and not
Alvan Judah, had killed the man found dead in
the woodland road, it would be well to go back
to the the time when she parted company with
her brother when he left her to 80 to t e village.

It was with a sad heart that ora rode home-
ward, allowing her horse to go in a walk, while
she was lost in deep meditation.

She be an to dread that evil must sooner or
later fol ow the cou'rse which her brother was
taking, and regretted deeply that neither her
father or herse could win him away from the
wicked path he had chosen to lead.

“ Ah, me! the one who led poor Frank into this
evil life was Mac Belden, the man who won my
girl heart, and w om I once believed I loved.

“ Was it revenge because I cast him 06 three

ears a , that made him tempt Frank until he
dell?” so, you have been avenged, Macy Bel-
en.

Unconscious] she had spoken aloud and rid-
i along with or e as cast downward she had
nlhg seen the form 0 a man standing close to a
w by the roadside.

la: 6 tree that
is the name of the one n

she utte n whom
her thoughts were turning the man ped out
and confronted her, while he laid his hand upon
her bridle—rein, at the same time say :
“ M name on your sweet lips, fair l”
“ My Belden !” the maiden, turning
white at the sight 0 one before her whom she
did not dream to be near.

“ Yes, your old lover, sweet Cora, who has es-
ca from prison, and, living only in the sim-
lig t of your eyes, has come here to see you
once more,” he said, with something of a. sneer
in his tones. .

“ Macy Belden, I had hoped that our paths in
life had divided forever.”

 

“Yet you see you were wrong, for they have
come together again.”

There was mischief in the man’s look and man-
ner.

He was tall, well-formed, about thirty years
of age, with a refined face and courtly manners.

He was well-dressed, yet had the appearance
of one who had been ill, for his complexion was
very white, and his face was bloodless.

“ Remove your hand from my rein, Mr. Bel-
den, and dpermit me to go on my way,” sternly
comman ed Cora.

“ Not until you have heard what I have to
say, Cora Keene,” and there was a threat in the
words.

“ “Tell, sir, be quick in what you would say,
for it is growin late and I wish to return home.”

“ Time was, ra, when you were fond of my
societ .”

“ T at was when I was a mere child, and be—
fore, I knew that the man that I admired was
3—

She used, and he continued with a sneer:

“ A hz'ef, {:u would have said.

“ Well, so it for I did steal when luck went
against me, and I went to prison for my crime,
and only escaped ten days ago; but, Cora Keene,
when I asked you three years ago, 'rl though
you Were, to one ay be my Wife, an you scorn-
ed me, I swore to be avenged and I have been,
for I led your brother on the path which will

him to ruin.”

“ scorned on then, for my e es were opened
to your evil ' e, and you do I old responsible
for the life which my poor brother leads to-day,”
said Cora, ' y.

“ Hal ha! 1 your r but hightens your
beauty, sweet Cora, and ow wondrously beau-
tiful you have (grown in the year that I have
been cursing an fretting in a. rison. But where
is my rival, Dick Denver for could learn noth-
ing of him when I visited the city?”

‘ Like yourself, be also want to the had,” was
the stinging reply of the oung girl.

“ So be it, we are fel ow-un ortunates then;
“ but what was Dick Denver’s crime?”

“ He forged his uncle’s name to a check, and
bad to fly to save himself fromfollowing you to

rison.”
p “ Ahl he was more fortunate than I; but there
will be a trio of us, if I do not receive what I.
came here for.” . .

There was someth' of such meaning in his:
words and look that mvoluntarily Cora shud-
dered° but she asked firm] :

“ at do you mean, r. Belden?”

“ I mean, sweet Cora, thahI find it necessary
to go to Texas, or some other State where I am.
not a hunted man, and to t there, and start in
business, I need gold, an that is what I have-
come here for. ”

“ And why come here?”

“Your father is a very wealthy man, Corn

1’
:yhat have you to do with his riches, may I
as l

“ I expect to help him spend some of his gold,”
was the strangely significant response.

“ Hal do you intend to rob my father’s home i”
cried Cora, in surprise.

“ No, but as I hold a secret that will send your
brother to prison, I intend to get pay for keeping
ifny mguth shut, or sell it to those who will pay

or it.

Cora turned dead] pale, for this was a. direct
c e that her bro r was not only wild and a
spen thrift, but a. criminal as well.‘

She knew that he had ke t up his association
with Macy Belden long a ter the character of
the man had been known, and also that he had
urged his father to allow him to go West at the
time Macy Belden was arrested for defaulting.

Could it be that Frank was really in the power
of this bad man?

It certainly seemed so from his words, and
Cora‘s heart sunk within her at the thought.

But her brave spirit did not flinch, and she
said firmly:

“ Your words imply thht my brother is guilty
of crime.”

“ He is."

“ I do not believe it.”

“kl have the proofsfhere in my pocket,” and he
too out a Mags 0 papers.

“Grantegafhat you weak the truth: do you
wish to sell your secret

“ At what price?”

“ My price is a large one, because I know that
your lat er is able to pay it.”

“ Name it.”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

“ Had you said a small sum, I might, in my

girlish innocence of what power on hold in pos- ‘

sensing the secret you allege you ve, been will-
him y you; but my father will not 've one
do you, for never can you make im be-
lieve that his son is gull of a. crime, and, if he
has so dishonored lnmse he will cast him off
utterly and let him take the punishment be de-
serves.”

The eyes of Cora Keene flashed as she kc,
and the man quailed beneath her just infill!!-
tion; but his was a vicious nature, and seeing
that he was thwarted, he said savagely:

“Girl, I ma hunted man, and have no time

Ch Q~x

The Jew Detective.

5

 

 

to stand here rleying with you, while I believe
that you will tray me and have the bounds of
the law upon in track, to run me down and
take me back to that living tomb.

" No, no; I will not go back, nor will I hang
for the murder of the keeper who barred my

wa '.

“’You wear jewels worth a small fortune, as I
know, and more, I will close your mouth for-
ever!

“ A”, [will have your life, ('ora Keene, and
'l/Olll'jt'lliols will bring me gold to aid nu: in my
(33411110 !”

 

CHAPTER VI.
BY A WOMAN‘S HAND.

AS Macy Belden uttered the sava e words, he
drew from his breast a long-blinks knife, and
throwing the bridlercin ovm' his arm, clutched
Cora by the wrist with a force that nearly drew
her from her saddle.

One glance into the face of the now frenzied
and desperate man, and Cora Keene realized
full ' that he meant every word of his threat.

’ e was indeed a hunted man; his love for her
had turned to bitter hatred, even though his
own acts had caused her to look upon him with
scorn.

He had suffered bitterly in a prison cell, and,
having made his escape at the cest of a keeper’s
life, he knew that there would be but one fate
for him Were he retaken.

The girl’s fearlessness had thrown‘him off his
guard, for he had_hoped to fri hten both her fa-
ther and herself into giving im gold; but he
saw that he could not frighten her, and well
knew that he dared not remain longer there,
should he let her go free.

Thus, driven to bay, he had made up his mind
to kill her.

A superb solitaire which he knew Cora wore,
left her by her mother, he was well aware
would bring him a con 10 of thousand dollars,
while a (pair of diamon ear-rings which her fa-
ther ha given her upon her sixteenth birthday,
he felt would bring him half as much more.

He had but little money in his purse, but with
what the jewels would fetch, he knew that he
was safe.

Thus he argued in the quickness of a flash,
and arguing, he at once determined to act.

But for the presence of mind of the girl, and
her strength, he would have dragged her at once
from the saddle, and her death would have been
:sudden and sure.

But, though taken by surprise. Cora did not
faint, nor utter a cry of alarm, but aéted and
that act was to draw from her pocket the little
revolver she had coaxed from her brother.

Like a flash it had come toher that she had the
wee. n, and she drew it, not to use it, but to
fri ten off her assailant.

‘ Unhand me, Macy Belden, or I will shoot
you,” she cried, sternly, and she turned the
muzzle of the revolver into his face.

A curse broke from his lips, and he started
back, just as he was about to strike at her heart
with his knife; but recovering himself quickly,
he said rudeliy:

“ Bah! gir , you cannot frighten me with that
my. No I will have your life!”

fme raised hisbkmfl ' e, a’pd was in the act
-0 ' a savage ow, w on e gatherin
darkness was illuminated with a flash, 8. s g
report rung out, and staggering backward, the
man sunk in his tracks.

At the same moment the maiden’s horse bound—
-ed forward in fright.

,“GOd forgive my act; but it was his life or
mine,” she groaned.  agony of spirit, and then,
seizmg her reins, which were i! ' loosely upon
the neck of the'runmng horse, w him to a
halt, and wheeling him to the rightabout started
back down the road.

“ I must have those papers which he had,” she
muttered, and forcmg her horse up to the res.
trate form she sprung to the ground her
hand into his pocket and drew out the package.
Leaping into her saddle with the utmost ease,
she owed her horsc full rem, and like the very
wand the animal sped homeward, drawing up at
the gate covered with foam.

Sprm g to the ground Cora turned to Tobey,
who me her, and controlling her emotion with a
great effort. she said:

“ Tobey, Master Frank may not be home un-
'.til late, so you had better wait 11 for him.”

“ Yes, missy,” answered To y, and Cora
swiept on into the house and sought her room.

8 lamps were already lighted and the cur-
tains drawn so she sat down, still in her riding-
habit. and glanced at the papers she had taken
from Macy Belden. .

They Were notes of hand for various amounts,
and several official-looking documents that Were
,si ed by parties whom she knew.

pon the backs of each one of them was writ-
ten, in the hand-writing of Macy Belden, which
she knew well, these words:

“ A to .ry—Frank Keene forged this. Redeemed
by Macy lden.”

They all bore dates prior to Macy Belden’s in-
carceration in prison. ‘

“ My God!  my poor sinful brother fallen
so low as this?” groaned Cora, and her head

drooped upon the table by which she sat and she
seemed almost wholly overcome.

thou h life had left her.

“ hank God I have these pa
slowly, and in a voice scarcely ouder than a
whisper

tones:

“ I cannot, I will not tell of that meeting to-
ni ht. No, no; it shall be my secret, and keep
it shall until my dying da .

my brother from )I‘lSOl], and the honor of our
name. It Would ill my poor father to know

will use these papers against poor Frank, to try
and force him to mend his ways.

“ Now to live a. lie before the world, to wear a
cheerful face when the heart aches with sorrow;
but it is for those that I love, and I can bear all,
can suil'cr and be strong.”

\Vith this brave resolve the noble girl arose,
dressed herself for tea, and descending from her
room sat down to her lonely re st, pale, yet
perfectly calm, and even cheerful fore the ser-
vant who waited upon her.

After tea she went into the parlor and
drmmned upon the piano to drown thought.
Then she sung some sad ballad, and this making
her feel more wretched, she tried to read, but
soon gave this up and Went to her room to pace
the floor in deep and painful reverie until she
was alarmed by the rapid hoof—strokes of her
1 brother’s horse coming up theroad leading to
l the house.

, that then followed the reader well knows, as
1 well, also, that the days went by, and so well did
. she keep her dread secret that she did not even

 

l

hood.

/ CHAPTER VII.

SAVED FROM THE GALLOW'S.

WHEN Cora Keene entered the court—room as
' he did, her presence created an excitement
i which the gavel of the judge found it hard to
I allay, and the crier in vain tried to suppress the
; hum of voices.

She had ridden breathlesst to the village, with
l Doctor Travers as her escort, and not one word
, could he get from her on the way of what was
1 her intention.

1 U narriving she had sprung unaided from
1 her ONO, and a court official in the hallway,
when she made inguiry had told her that the
Jew had been foun 'lty, and the judge was
about to pass the deat sentence upon ' .

Shakin of! Austin Travers, who would have
restrained her, she swe t down the aisle with a
sw1ft' , firm step her riding-skirt trailing
behind her, an her face, ushed y her ride an
excitement, full of stem resolve.

As she uttered the words that startled the
gathered crowd, and made the dignified judge
spring from his judicial bench in amazement,
every eye was upon her, and she resented a su-
perb picture as she stood there efiantly before
that excited body of ple.

At last a silence ell upon all, and then the
j‘ud e said, in slow, measured tones, but in a

in lily way:

“ y dear young lady, this is a strange charge
you make against yourself.”

“ It is a true one, your Honor, for I, not that—"
she paused, for she ad almost said Jew, believ-
ing that the man under trial'was some poor He
brew tramp- but when her eyes fell upon the
finer an she beheld his superb presence, she

to g ance again at his manacles before she
could realize that such a man could be consid-
ered a murderer, and emphasizing the one word,
she continued:

“ I, not that gentleman, killed the man found
dead by the roadside, and for whose murder, as
you called it, you had nearl sentenced an inno-
cent man to die upon the go. ows.”

“ I am utterly in the dark, oung lady, until
you fully explain, so I pray t t you do so at
once.”

“I will do so, your Honor, though I had
hoped to keep the secret to myself, as, by my
act, I was placed in a most unfortimate ition
for a young lady, and I sought to keep rom ap-
pearing as a heroine and havin my name bruit-
ed about as one who had taken uman life.

“But the peril in which that gentleman is
placed through my act, causes me to sacrifice
my own feelings in the matter, so I will tell you
frankly that, upon the night of the death of the
one whom you so nearly semenoed an innocent
man to the llows for kilth with my
brother at t e Forks of the , he coming on
tothis village, while I rode homeward to Oak
Rid Farm.

“ owm

 

that my brother might meet con:
vivial friemfi, and that he wins armed, I refused
to go on home alone, as it was after sunset, un-
less he gave me up his pistrJ

“ This he did, and, before reaching the wood-
land, my bridle-rein was seized by a man who
demanded money of me.

“I had no money with me to 've him, and
, (1111161,;h he demanded my Jewels mgr penalty of

93 1

 

.. .‘

At last she raised her face and it was white as time raising

it was to save my life, am more, I have saved ‘

i ask if any tragedy had occurred in the neighbor- .

A

 

“ I saw that he was desperate, and, when he
sought to drag me from my horse, at the same
a long knife which he carried. I
thought of my brother’s little revolver, and

rs,” she said drawing it, demanded that he release me.

“ The sight of the weapon infuriated him the,
. , more, and seeing that I had to act quickly. for
Then she continued In the same constrained it was his life 01‘ mine, I fired in his face and he

dropped dead before me.
“ My horse, in alarm, bounded awav, and ran
home with me; but, for the reasons t at I have

If I killed him. } stated, I kept the SH-ret to myself.

“Some hours after. my poor brother was
biought home seriously hurt, and in watchinr
by his bedside I have not, until today, hear(

all, so I will not tell that fearful secret; but I l that another had been arrested and was on trial
‘ for my act, while I dared not ask if a body had

been found in the woodland.

“ Learning. only an hour since, of the danger
that this gentleman was in, I rode hither in all
haste to tell my story, to make my confession,
and demand that the innocent be not punished
for the guilty."

Through all Cora told her storyin a clear
voice that did not quiver, and every word she
uttered was listened to with breathless interest,
while Alvan Judah did not take his eyes off her
face.

When she concluded, the judge said:

“Miss Keene, this is a most remarkable con—
fession, and I am glad that you make it just in
time to save this )r man, whom, now knowing
to be innocent o the charge of murder, I can
believe as to his story regarding the finding of
your brother’s watch and other valuables by the
side of the dead man, and which proves that
there must have been another person upon the
scene, whom the coming of Mr. Judah fright-
ened off.

“Your story shows that the dead man was
slain shortly after sunset, and our brother was
not thrown from his horse until after midnight,
so that Mr. Judah, discovered by the side of the
dead man, and coming from a direction that
brought him to the body first, could not have
seen our brother at all, as he asserts.

“ nder the circumstances therefore, of his
having been tried for his life, I hereby discharge

him.
“ Prisoner, you are discha ! Sheriff, take

those irons off Mr. Judah, an permit him to be- .

come a free man once more.”

Instantly Alvan Judah arose to his feet, and
said earnestly:

“ I thank your Honor with all m heart; but I
hope the young lady is not to be he d, for rather
would I suffer than have such the case.”

“ N 0, Miss Keene simply did her duty in kill-
inglone who sought her life and to rob her, and
I onor her for the courage she has shown,

though I regret that she deemed it her duty to 4'

keep the act a secret.
“ There is no charge against you, Miss Keene,
and you too are free to go.”

A wild shout broke from the assembled crowd .

at these words of the judge; in vain did the crier
and the gavel seek to command silence, while in
the confusion that follOWed Alvan Judah left the
court, and, a moment after, Doctor Travers led
Cora out, and ai ' her to her saddle, the two
started for Oak Ridge at a rapid allop, the
young physician not being able to t t e maiden
to utter a word during their ride t ere, so wrapt
up was she in her own meditations.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE JEw’s THEORY.

ONCE outside the court-house walls, where he
had been sonear death, Alvan Judah gave a long
breath of relief.

He had faced the ordeal with a bearing which
had won the admiration of judge, jury and spec~
tators, for not once had be shown one atom of

 

fear.

Through Cora Keene he had escaped the al-
IOWs an , though he had uttered no wordg of
thanks to her, he certainly appreciated what she
had done for him. ‘

About him, as he stood in the broad glare of
day, a curious crowd was gathered watching
him closely.

But he had been so lately the cynosure of all
eyes, that he hardly noticed that he was being
stared at, until a. kindly-faced man came up to
him and said:

“Stranger, I am glad 'ou got OR, for I ad-
mired your nerve, and want to ask you to
come over and stop with me as long as you stay

town.

“ I keep the tavern across the square yonder.”

“ I thank ou, sir; but my means are limited
and I think shall hasten on to New Yor ”

“ N ow, Hi friend, a tavern landlord don’t
mean pay w en he gives an invitation, and I
want you to be my guest, so come right along,
for you need rest and food."

“I thank you, landlord, and will accept your
invitation for a short time; but I must go to the
jaill after my traps, although theyare of little
va ue.

“ I’ll send after them, for after the ordeal you
have passedthrough you don’t wish to go into
those grim walls again.”

“The jailer was kind to me, and I wish to
thank him.”

“ Well, you are a man clean through, and I’ll

:uauvau.-.......«.—u .

».«r.~ -- . -.v

,s. ,a .V.

 
   

 

' onetime did some valuable detective work for

 

 

I it lost '
, h “ Now, at the trial ” he continued, “ I was‘ not
“asked how my pistol came to be

u

   

» the nerve to come rig t up and face the

.sician, Doctor Travers, I believe who mad

 

The Jew Detective.

 

go with you, thou h I hate to
walls that hide on y miserv "an the kind-heart- ‘

ed Boniface took Alvan'Judah’s arm and led 3

him toward the jail.

Securing his cane and sachel, and thanking
the jailer, the young Hebrew accompanied Land- ,
lord Loring of the New England Arms, as his ‘
tavern was called, and soon found himself in the ,
best room in the house.

“ This is the room I keep for judges, congress- I

men and governors when they come to town, 1

Mr. Judah; but you are welcome as lon as you '
' oath the man sprung into the thicket by the

will occupy it, for I never saw a man t at won
my admiration as you did and I verily believe ‘
if they had got the hemp about your neck, you’d y
have never shown fear. 

“ Make yourself at home, sir, and I’ll send i

our dinner up to you, for the dining-room will I
crowded to-day with a curious gang who only 1
wish to see on.”

With this Landlord Loring departed, and Al-
van Judah was left alone. \

For a long time he sat motionless, his thoughts 
so deep that he seemed to almost forget that he 3
had the power of movement. ‘

Then he started arose, and paced to and fro ,
until the landlord entered, accompanied by a ‘
servant bearing a tray.

It was a most temptingI dinner that the land-
lord served him, for the ow England Arms was
noted for its good table comfortable beds and
neat rooms, and Alvan udah ate with a relish .
which he had not known for many a long dag}. '

The landlord ke t him company the w '19,
helping him to drmfi' a bottle of good claret, and
running on with a general conversation about i
the town and its people and how all agreed that .
thezllhad never seen a raver man than Alvan

Ju .

“ May I ask on re ng the youéfi lady ‘
who saved my to?” d Alvan Judah, ml .

“ Miss Cora Keene is her name, and her fat er i
is a fireat doctor, but he does not practice now. i

“ e was born on Oak Ridge Farm, some four i
miles from here, and one of the finest places in i
the State. a 1

“ He lives in the city of New York, but comes I
up here every June and stays until autumn, and
is very rich, thou b they do say that his son
Frank, although a y in years, has made a big
hole in his fortune b gain ling and dissipation.

“As for the girl, Cora, she was born an
angel and will die one, for she is as lovely in
character as she is beautiful in face, and you saw
for ourself how lovely she is.”

“ es, she is exquisitely beautiful.” I

“ She knows every poor family within ten I
miles, and I can tell you that much that is raised 1
on the Oak Ridge Firm goes to those who need
it; but it was wrong in her, not telling about
having to kill that tramp."

“ I suppose, as she said, she wished to avoid
publicity.

“True, Mr. Judah, and she is just the ' l to
shrink from that sort of thing; but then s had
to abi secretonher ' .

“ St 1, she the luck to kill him and then

conse—
quences when she saw your neck was in the noose
on account of it.”

“ Landlord, can I trust you?” suddenly asked
Alvan Judah.

“ You can, sir, with your life," was the earnest

l .
we You heard my story of my life, as I told it
in court, and, from many scenes that I was
W to go throu h in Mexico, I have come to

_ __x___._.._-

conclusion tha I am a. natural-born detec-

H 3

“Yes, and I studied law from a love om
ting into the intricacies of difllcult cause, at

the Mexican Government.” '
Landlord Loring looked at his guest, not un-
just what this was leading to, and
after a w c said: .
“ You had better remain in our village then,
air, and hangoutvgour sh Is as an attorne .”
“ No, for ew ork is a. old that will sui me
better; but let me return to the subject that I
intendedtospeaktoyou‘upon. .‘
“Did you notice at the trial that the pay-
0 0
Wm examination of the dead man’s
y,tookfrom theheadabulletthatjustfltted

my‘pistoli” '
”did,sir,andltseemed a clearcaseagainst

Wires, for the pistol I had was a derringer,
and carries, as you see, a large bullet,” and Al-
van Judah exhibited the weapon to the land-

unloaded al-
though it showed traces of having been lately

discharged. , .
“ Nor did I tell why I had tired it.
“The truth I wish to now tell you.”
“ You can trust me sir.”
“ I feel that I can and I will.
“Ashorttimebeforelreached thespotwhere
I stumbled upon the body of the dead man, I
be‘suddenly discovered a form standing in the road
on '

behind stone 

 

me.
“I instantly halted, for I have several times.

v

 

met with assailants on my journey afoot, and as
I did so, the one in my pathway called out:

“ ‘ Ho, Belden is that you?’

“ ‘ It is not Be den,’ I answered.

“ ‘You lie! take that!’ came the sav e an—
swer, and a flash and report followed, w ile a
Bullet; whistled by dangerously close to my

cad ’

“ You don’t mean it, sir?” said the surprised
landlord.

“ I do. and I will tell you more:

“ Instantly I returned the fire, and with an

roadside and disappeared.

“I at once determined notto go on immediate—
ly, but to conceal myself in the shadow of the
trees and see what would turn up.

“ I waited for full half an hour longer, and
then went on my wa , and, being on my guard,
entered the copse o woods, when I came upon
the body of the man I was accused of killing.

x

 

the handkerchief with the va uables belonging to 5

Mr. Keene, as I afterward learned.

“ I told the court, you may remember, this
circumstance, but kept back what I wished to
make known afterward to some one who mi ht
trace the matter up and find the real crimin .

“ I was confident that my apgroach had star-
tled some one, who had been to bing the body,
and he fled in such hast» that he left the hand-
kerchief and its contents behind him.”

“ This is all very strange, Mr. Judah,” said the
landlord.

“ Th Ire is something still more strange to tell ,

'ou, for my theory is that Miss Keene did not

U the man whose murderer I was believed to
be,” was the low response of Alvan Judah, and
the landlord fairly started from his feet in
amazement at his words.

 

CHAPTER IX.
'rnn RUNAWAY.

IT was some moments, after Alvan Judah had
made known his theory of the murder in the
woodland before the landlord could reply.

At last he said:

“ lfiut Miss Cora frankly stated that she killed

“ True.”
“ And yet on do not believe that she did 1”
“I knowt t she did no ,” was the firm re-

pl .

y‘ Do you think her tenderness of heart caused
her to say what she did, to save you from the
gallows?”

“ N o.”

“ Then you have got me upside down, Mr.
Judah, in all my ideas.”

“ Let me 9% my reasons for so thinking.

‘ ‘,‘ Did you Miss Keene’s testimony about
getting from her brother his pistol?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ Do you remember what kind of pistol she
said it was?”

“ Yes, a revolver I think.”

“Did you ever see the weapon that young
Keene carries 1”

“Often, for I have taken it away from him
shveral times, fearing he would use it.”

“ Was it a revolver?”

‘6 Ya. ”

“ Of what caliber?” '

“ About twenty-two, I think.”

“ And my derringergs a forty—four.”

,“ You are ht, sir. ,

“ The bullet on from the head of the dead
man was a forty-four.”

“ That isso, sir.”

“Hadader erbeenfired at close quarters
it certainly wo have sent a bullet through and
throiigh a man’s head.

it a.”

“ Firedat that distance it would not.”

“ You are right, sir.” ,

“ Now there was another thing the doctor and
others failed to notice t‘ the dead man.”

“ EVhat was that, air ’ e

“ ad Miss Keenefiredthat fatal shot, itwonld
have been with the revolver of twenty-two cal-
iber, and not a derringer of fortyvfour while, as
shesaidshe fireddirectlyinthefaceoftheman,
as she thought, there certainly would have been
powder burns, which there was not a. trace 0 .”

“You reason well, Mr. Judah”

“ I reason truly, I think landlord."

“ And what conclusion have you come to, sir,
upon the m sterious affair?”

“ Just th . that there were two men who came
to thatwoodland upon about the same errand,
and one knew the secret of the other.

“ I was mistaken byone of them for the other,
and fired upon. ;

“ Now I believe that one of those unv
known to the other was hiding near where is
Keene was attack , and, about the same instant
that she fired her revolver he fired a derringer
from his lace and killed the man, while
the lady 'm, but seeing him fall thought
that her shot had taken effect.

“ ' troub e,theone whofiredthe shot
at once fled from e spot, and returned
late in the night to see, just what occurred,
for, Macias/hiding lace, he must hays seen

., It.
._) I

(\.;

    

    
  

.5.

 

  

 

that no one went to the woods, and could not 1m—

‘ derstand why Miss Keene had not reported her

adventure

“A man with a bullet in his Li'aii. may live
for some little time, and the man who attacked
Miss Keene may have been alive when found by
the one who fired the shot, for certainly the body
was warm when I found it. _

“ After firing upon me, I believe that he went
into the woods, and was the one who attacked
young Keene, caused his horscio throw him, and
robbed him, after which he went to look for the
one he had fired upon to saw Miss Keene. and,
on reaching his body, had laid dmvn the hand-
kerchief and its contents and was frightened of!
by nil a preach.”

“ r. udah, you are indeed a born detective,
as you said, for who would ever haVe traced the
truth out of such a mysterry as this but your-

self. ,
I “thy, it’s as plain as daylight to me now,
“ The body was still warmi and by its side lay ‘ sir ”

“ I think I am on the right track, landlord,
and, as soon as I can, I wish to solve this mys-
tery by finding the owner of that handkerchief
that held the Jewe of youn Keene, and
ghich has embroide upon it t e initials ‘ D.

,1

“ But can you do it, sir?” , .

“I can but try, and I Wish to keep in corre-
spondence with you, landlord, and the]- we
may solve the mystery some day, an I can re-
lieve Miss Keene’s mind from the wei ht of her
having taken human life, even in se f—defense,
for such is‘m desire.” . '

“ I am wit you, heart and soul, Mr. Judah
and I’ll keepas close as a dark-lantern on all
you’ve told me, for I wish to serve ‘ou, and also
would like to take the shadow of! iss Cora, for
I know she feels it in ite of her bravery.

“ Now, sir, just conSIder this house your home,
and if luck goes against ou in the cit , come
here, for I can give you office to loo after,
if nothing else.

With this the kind-hearted landlord left the
room, and Alvan Judah was again alone with his
own thoughts.

It was late when he retired and worn out with
the excitement through which he had passed he
at once sunk into a sound slee .

The next day he took a wal out to the wood-
land, noted carefully the spot where Ih'ank
Keene had been thrown, and where the man had
attacked Cora, and after passing several hours.

there in a complete study of the place and its A

surroundings, he returned to town and began in-
quiries, in a cautious way, regarding any ene-

mies that the Keenes might have. ‘-

at the New Eng- I

After Several days geared
land Arms, Alvan Ju h took his leave of the-
landlord, who still urged him to remain, and
with his sachel swun on his stick over his shoul-
der, started to con inue his long-interrupted.
tramp to New York. . '

Landlord Loring him to let him send
himinhiswagonto nextvilla ,atleast,
which was ten miles distant; but van Judah
told him he needed the exercise of walking, and
thenhad to polite] and firmly decline a _ -
dollar bank-note, w ch the good man wished
force upon him as a loan. , .

Setting out upoh his tramp, as he neared' the
forks of the road, where four highways met, he
saw a phaéton dash byin the distancempross
the  that he was traveling, and in it be

She was flung hol d tlfie re(iins over a

n-itedpair ponies,an y erm e,

l? with pillows, was evidently her 
, whom she had out for an airing.

Then-cad that the Fawn Hebrew was travelv
ingledhimhyOak 'dge ,andhewasdip-
appointed at seein Cora driving away from
a”, Ta?" ’I‘d de‘md'

a. m ve in so 0mg.

But he reasoned that, as Cora had her invalid
brother with her, she Would not remain long
away, and so he trudged On his lonely way once
more.

Itwas ustsunaetw hecameinsight of
Oak Ridge Farm, wumandlord Loring £1311
describedto him, and'he lulled upon the ill-
top and gazed down upon the beautiful home,
nestlin away upon the slope of a high ri ,
and aging the spreading acres m the valley ,
fore it, and through which wound a pretty

stream. ' -

His eye also fell upon-the bridge, at the bot

tom of the steep hih upon which -he , and
of workmen just leaving it,
ha ' knocked 0 work forthe day.

.“It time that old  repaired, for
it looks very shaky,” he mu , an presently
added: _ 4 . V

“They have left thmgs’ in a bad way for 'the
$110; should a team eomo along at a rapid

t;’ - ' -

'I-Iardly had he utte the Words, when he
heardthe rapid tramp of boots coming up
theroadbehindhim, anda cryof horrorbroke
from his lips as be discerned the spirited team of
OoraKeenectming atamadpece,while
the maiden in vain strove'to check heir head-

long speqi. ’
‘ God of Abraham! she  lost, for
plunge though that trail bridge and bear

  
   

    

.. ;,’.,

k that: «is:

ed‘to stop there,for ho ;

 

thewlll.‘
t0

 

 

 

 

  
 
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

‘_ gave one mighty

/

The Jew Detectve.

'7

 

 

 

her death,” he cried, in a voice that showed the i

intensity of his feelings, while, likea statue he
stood gazing upon the terrified runaways as they
came toward him like the very wmd.

 

CHAPTER X.
AT ma RISK or urn.

Ir Alvan Judah was, for a moment, spell- .

bound at the sight that met his eyes, of two run-
away horses, frightened into a frcnay from some
cause, rushing toward almost certain death, and

bearing with them a youth, helpless from his in— ‘

juries, and a beautiful girl,_ struggling nobly
against hope to check them, it was onl for an
instant that he thus stood statue—like gaz ng upon

them.

Awaking fully to the Situation, he dashed ms
sachel and cane to the ground, and rushed upthe
road to meet them.

The highway was bordered by a fence upon
either si e, and they ended only upon the steep
bank which overhung the stream below.

At the base of the bill, which was short and
steep, was the old bridge, the timbers and floor-

, in of which the men had been repairing. {
' c: to accident, the workmen had

ewa
toga any ve 'cle that might cfiolgne along, leaving
a ngerous open' n 1101 rsi e.

Unnailed as am _
tread of the horses rushing furiously u n them
Would throw them out of place, and t 9 result
would be a frightful acc1dent, and the precipita-
tion of the animals, the vehicle and its occu—

ts thirty feet below upon the rocky bed of

e stream.

All this did Judah seeat a glance, and he knew
that the on] possibilit of saving Cora Keene
and her brot er from estruction was to check
Ethel flight of the animals before they reached the

As they advanced u n him, he waved his hat,
shouted and tried to s D then.

But in vain; they came on viciously, and he
sprung one side to prevent bei rim down; but
withasecondsp' he seized e of! horse by
the bit, and was from his feet and
swung alo at a fearful pace.

In vain did he try to ' his footing, and in
vain did he strive to chec the onward rush of
the maddened horses.

He m' ht as well have tried to check the wind
in its flig t.

Did he let go, he would be dashed to death be-
neath the wheels, so he clun on desperately to
the harness and neck of the orse, for his pres-
ence of mind did not forsake him.

One lance into the haéton and he saw that

Keene lay back em and white-faced,
while Cea‘a still dragged hard upon the reins.

A moment more and they wouldbe at the hill,
and the and must come; but ere that moment of
suspense Alvan Judah had thrust one
hand into his bosom, and drawing it forth, it
held his derrmger pistol.

Quickly, though  alo at tremendous

and clinging for life, to
turn the muzzle of the weaszn upon the head of
the horse upon the other si from him, and to
pull the trigger.

With the report of the J ew’s pistol the animal
bound into the air and fell dead

the very brink of the hill, his weight drag.

thisflfigm nion dogvn wiltildii himdl’while t e
impe y sent t cm 8 ng ong upon
the herd ground for several lengths.

With thefall of the ho the polehad snapped,
and the too had roll upon top of the ani-
malsan camcveznear upset, whilebe-
fieaththewreck vanJ waslyingina

ea . '

“I3rother, speak to , for we are safe!” cried
Cora, springing to her f the instant the shock
was over. .

“ I’m all right. 8‘5, but I thought we were

e for I am helpless.” was the answer of
Keene, in a faint tone.

“Then I will aid the brave man to whom we
owe liv andGodgranthebenotdead.”

Wi this ra spru from the vehicle and

preached the t w ere Alvan Judah Ilay,
filmed down by Weight of the living horse,
which was so led up that he could not 

“ I am all rlgh  Keene. though I cannot
rise Without your assistance. Take m knife,
please, and cu the harness, and then th horse
can get up and release me.”

_ The young Hebrew spoke in the coolest tone

' imaginable. and as Cora now beheld his face, she

said. quickly: - .
Q. - “You are the gentleman whom my act so
. nearly caused to be ha 1”

“I am Alvan Judah, the Jew, as they call

metback in the village, Mics Keene,” was the 5 though he were a chil

y.
’08 And now I owe you my life, ay, and the life
of my brother,” and Com  with deep feel-

ing.

‘1 am thankful that itis so ”camethe low're-
spouse and gust then the  who had not
been idle, on
with a loud sum he sprung to his feet,
said
foot.

l
l
l

l

l

were, the very first I

 

l

l

l
l
l
|
l
y

l

, 'I‘ hank you, nokfor I mustgoon my way; . ‘
the straps that held the horse, and
- l

“Isincerelyho that on are. not hurt, ' ‘n t has, he
Cora v.asAeranudaharoaetomm.‘ eneda rhun

~ Keene the remark:

“ Oh, no, only a little bruised, and thankful it §
was no worse. I

“ I am sorry I had to kill your horse, Miss ?
Keene, but I saw no other chance of saving
'ou.”
3 “W'hen our lives are saved, sir, the horses
must not be taken into consideration, and I
should not have driven that wicked brute, for he
was known not to be safe, and started into a run

. without the slightest cause that I could see, no l

this frightened his mate, and I could not com: 
them.

“ I could have sprung from the phaéton into
the sandy part of the road, but would not leave
my brother, to whom rmit me to present you. ,

‘Brother Frank, this is Mr. Judah, the gen- ,
tleman to whom we owe our lives.”

Frank Keene was not in a good humor, and
the fright he had received made him cross, so in- 1
stead of being thankful for his life, and so l
stating, he was i ultin , and said:

“ Oh, yes, you re udah, the Jew, who so
nearly got bangled the other da , and whom my
sister made suc a fool of herse about before a
crowded court-room.”

The face of Alvan Judah flushed, but he took
no notice of the remark other than to sa :

“Yes, Mr. Keene,I am Judah, the ew. and
but for your noble sister I would have died on
the gallows for a crime of which I was guilt-

ess.

“ But it is owing late, Miss Keene, and your
brother sho d not be exposed to the night air in
his feeble condition, so i (you will permit me to
take this horse I will ri e to your home and
brin aid.”

“ 0 so, please, Mr. Judah,” answered Cora,
whose face flushed angrily at her brother’s rude-
ness.

“ Do you know how to ride, for that is a wild
brute!” said Frank, in an insulting way.

But paying no attention to the words, Alvan
Judah s rung upon the back of the restive ani-
mal an dashed away, ridinglike one born in the
saddle, so to speak, and Winning from Frank

“ By Jove! but he rides like a Texan, sis.”

Cora made no reply, for she was very angry
with her brother, but would not resent his rude-
ness in his then feeble condition, so contented
herself with drawing the wraps about him, and
then pac' to and fro until the coming of Tom
with the amily carriage, with Alvan J 11
mounted upon the box With him.

“ You will accompailiiy;1 us home, sumly, Mr.
J udah?” said Cora, 100 g toward her brother
to second her invitation,

Butflhe had settledhlhimselfdcomgortalbjllygback
upon 0 ' cus one an sai not .’

“ Thank you, I will, Miss Keene, as I intended
stopping at your home, for I to see you
upon a matter of some i'inportance— No, thank
you, I will ride on the box with the driver," and
other servants now coming up to look after the
wrecked vehicle, Alvan Judah sprung upon the
box, and the carriaggarolled away toward Oak
Ridge Farm, even nk Keene willing-to ad-
mit that he owed his life to Judah, the Jew, as
he sawtbe condition of the brid , and that cer-
tain death awaited them, ha the runaway
horsesreached the frail structure.

 

CHAPTER XI.
rm: an’s PLEDGE.

IN silence Cora rode home with her brother,
for she feared to address him, as she expected a
hateful response, and she cared not to quarrel
with him. :

She had not urged that Alvan Judah should
enter the  with them, as she felt assured
that Frank, in irritable mood, would be cer-
tain to make rude remarks, so she had submitted
to the man to whom she owed her life, riding by
the driver’s side, when he should have been her
guest within.

Arriving at the mansion Alvan Judah spnin
to the ground, and ateppnijn‘g to the door aided
Cora to alight, while he pleasantly:

“ Let meassist you, Mr. Keene, for ourcoach-
man tells me your butler is away an the other

servants have gone after the phaéton.”

Frank Keene was selfish, and he did not wish
to exert himself, fearing that it might make him
worse, so he consented with a quiet: ’

“ I thank you.”

As machedthestepshisstren secmedto
failh‘ ,andAlvan J dah tenderyraisedhim
inhisarmswithaqui : '

“ Permit me, for you are v weak."

.Cora led thaway,and the ewborehis bur-
den with seemingl little trouble, and placed the
IYouth upon his at the mme time ms

is wraps and caring for him as tenderly as

In spite of his ill-temper Frank Keene was
touched, and said:

“ You are veqykind, and you will remain with
us to—nighti”

T
‘Good-by Mr. cc and I trust Will
speedily recdver.” ne‘ \ you

So saying Alvan Judah let the room, but Cora

I
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.
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I

 

willremainasour estto-night!”shc;
ssid,earnestly. - _ 8n . r

“ No, Miss Keene, I must. continue on my way,
as soon as I have had a short talk with you.”

“Then remain to supper at least. and I will
{pin you as soon as I have cared for that rude

rother of mine.

“ Hd‘e, Banos, I am glad you lie w come.
show Mr. J udaIi to the blue room and have sup-
)cr in half an hour,” she said to the butler. who
Just then entered the hall.

With a bow of acquiesoence Alvan Judah fol-
lowed the butler to one of the pleasantest rooms
in the grand old mansion, while Cora returned
to her brother’s room, and, after giving him a
li rht sup -r, watched him until he fell asleep.

hen s e made a hasty toilet and descended to

the library, where she found her guest awaiting

er.

“ Su per is ready, Mr. Judah, and I confess to
being ungry, in spite of my adventure." and
Cora and the Jew entered the cheerful dining-
room, and sat down us a ris at the well-spread
table, for the maiden insisted that her guest
should play the part of host and take her fat hcr‘s

t

sea .
During the meal Alvan Judah proved himself

a charming com‘ersationalist, and his Courtly
manners proved to Cora that he had been neared
in the most refined society, while she was forced
to confess to herself that not one of her many
gentleman friends- was nearly so handsome. or
eyes with such a depth of expression in

In fact, though the maiden had been attracted
to the Jew by his striking appearance at the
trial, she was really quite charmed with him,
meetin him as she did ially while his in-
domita 1e pluck inthe face of an ' ominious
death, and risking his life to save ersclf and
Iii-other, added greatly to her admiration of

in.

After the meal had ended Cora led the way
back to the library, and, as though called upon
to explain his wish for an interview with his
fair hostess Alvan Judah at once said:

“Now, Miss Keene, having broken bread with
you, let me assure you that what I say to you
can only he meant in friendship.”

“I cannot look upon you as other than a
friend, Mr. Judah. after what on have done
for me,” answered Cora, with fee ' . I

“ Pardon me, but I meant not to imply a
claim upon your friendship, Miss Keene for my
act was but the canceling of the life debt I owe
to you; but, as I was on my way to New York,
I fintended stoppingat your home to ask a favor
0 cu.

‘ Any favorit is in ring
Judah, you have but to it of me,” was Cora’s

re 1 \
R Ibeg’pardon if I bring up a painful subject
to you; ut will you permit me to see the pistol

you had with you n n the night that you were ' I

assailed in the w d?”

Cora looked up with surprise at the strange
request, but said, quiitélg:

‘ Certainly, sir. I 1 get it for you.”

“ And one other favor, Miss Keene?”

“ Well. Mr. Judah,” and the maiden paused.

“ I believe that you brought your brother’s
watch and jeweh'y ome to him in the handker-
chief in which they were found by the side of
the dead body?”

“ I did, sir.”

“ Will you permit me also to see that handker-
chief?" .

“Certainly, for I have it in my room,” and
she left the library.

Soon she returned, bearing in her hands the
pistol and the handkerchief.

The Jew took them, and after glancing at the
pistol, said: ‘

“ Miss Keene, may I ask if it does not pain
you deeply to feel that your hand has taken hu-
man life, even in selfdefense?”

He saw her face whiten at his words, and her
mouth quiver; but she answered firmly:
m‘l‘lIliliglee-d it does, sis, and dirty is, a shadow that

' unt me to my ' .

‘ “ Permit me then, )(vigfieene, the pleasure of
that shadow by telling you that you
' I that man.”

“ In God’s name
in her excitement born clutched the hand of AJ-
van Judah, who, in his low, earnest voice, an-
swered: «

“ Miss Keene, what I say to you must be a se—
cret between us.

“ Do you promise me that it shall be?”

“ Oh yes; but ! tell me what your
strangewordsmean ’andthebeautihileyes be-
came dimmed with tears.

“ I give you my pledge, Keene, that I
will one day, if not now, give you roof of what
I tell you, that you are wholly less of taking
humfin lilfeet, strange as it mym. t0

“ at me vemywo y llingycu
that this is a go
not?”

Corawaswell versed in firearms, for her he

remo '

ther hadtagght her to be a crack shot, and she

answered q ckly: _
“ Yes, sir, it is twentv-two caliber."
“Then this istol could not b
this ball?” an he handed to a
that was partially flattened on one side. , »
“ By no means, for this isa forty-four e«lilies.

4

power to grant. Mr."

sir, what do you mean!” and "

enty-two-caliber pistol, is 'it

 

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“ Why do you ask l”

“ You are sure that this is the weapon you
fired at your assailant?”

“ I am sitive.”

“ Coul you swear that you hit him?”

“No, for it seemed to me that I touched the
trigger before I had fairaim; but as he fell dead
I am sure that I hit him,” and Corn seemed to
be growin r nervous.

‘ Miss Iéeene, this is the bullet that was taken
from the head of the dead man, and it fits my
derringer, not the little revolver you used.”

Cora sat s llbound.

What con (1 it mean?

At last she asked in a quivering voice:

“ Can this be true?"

“ It is true, for I secured the bullet, and I in-
tend to use it as a means to gain an end.”

“But I——”

“ I know what you would say: that on fired,
and he fell, but I am sure that this bu let came
from a dcrringcr pistol, and at a distance.

“ It was fired by some one who witnessed the .

scene between you and your assailant, and it was
fired at the same instant that
discharged, so that you did noto
re )ort."

‘ora listened ln'eathlossly._aml then Said:

“If this be true, thank (iod no man‘s life
stains my hands. even though that man was my
worst enemy. "

Involuntarin she had spoken in a. way that

serve the other

suggest that she knew who the man was that ’
she had fired upon. and Alvan Judah, ever on I
the alert, noted her words and pondered 'over ,
them, though he dil not allow her to see that ,’

she had five!) him a Hint to act u n, and said:

“Miss 'eellc,’[ am as confident that you (lid
not kill that man, as I am that I did not fire the
fatal shot, and it was to 1give your mind peace
that I came to you, thong I do not wish you to
admit the fut-t to me or an other living being.

“ That handkerchief I Wish you to let me have,
for I believe it will be a link to my finding out
just who fired the fatal shot. .

“ Should you learn anything of an important
nature, you can communicate with me through
Landlord Loring, of the New England Armx
and he will forWard to me any letter, for I wi

send to him my address, when I become located, I

and I pledge you my word I will yet clear up
the myster that surrounds this strange afl'air.

“ New. '83 Keene, 1: you for your
hoopitality to a poor man pernut me to take my
EELVP with every wish for your happiness in

e. ’ '

“ ,o, no, you must remain all night, Mr. Ju-
dah; in tugging; my faghgr’sviriturn, for I am
expecting ' , an 5 you to meet
him that he ma thank you for all you have
done for my brot er and in self.”

“No thank you, Miss eene, I must bid you

. farewe , and at once,” was the firm res use,
and seeing that he meant it, Cora did no urge
more, but requested him to permit her to send
him tlIie carnag' e to the next town.

0)
milejs wo d 91in 5133i] 11;; for “:39 regminder ‘of
my ourney’ esa ,wi as 'e,an in

7 her outstretched hand, Alvan Judah fir! mg
leave, and shouldoring his sachel, containi all
his worldly goods, he Went ferth into the k-
ness of the night, and continued on his way to-
ward the 0% which was the Mecca of his hopes,
while he li . dreamed what it held in store for

~—

CHAPTER XII.
, ran TELL-TALE, mimLs.
THE night was starlight and the air balm§ and
tf , as Alvan Judah left Oak Ridge -
den, and wended, his way down the grwvel
drive, with its rows of tal
bordering it. ,

The large and Ornamental gateway was about
aquarter of a mile from the house andas the
Jew placed his hand upon the latch, he suddenly
p—

v pod to his knees.
' But the force of the blow was not as t as
the one who dealt it meant that it shoul , and

besides, Alvan Judah wasa hard man to kill,
while his slouch hat also protected him.
‘ Instead, therefore of being wholly stunned ‘and
dropping his lengt, hiseusible, he merely fell
upon his knees. and when a dark form 3pm?
gong the wowlof a; fume tomnl him he 3:13;
en tux am me sasaa t,Emapin
with a clutch that could not be sh en 0mg
Alvan Judah was a powerful man, but his
head was dizzy from the blow he had received,
, and for a moment he feared that his antagonist
would prove his master, for he y pos-
great stre
But. exerting h
hisenemy several telling blows in .the face that
,dued him and then hurling him to the ground
' held him there. i
‘ his little ,derrinzar the Jew said,

 to kill me, sir, when
blow and if'you attemptre-

kill . . ,
hacktbywder

ymi dealt me tha

  

 
   
 

“Bhe,3ir,andw befgglm
~',  Malawi». forum  m
; ‘ u‘ IV‘. ‘ .t .4 ‘I'  I I r ,i

. me on the highway, and

your pistol was ‘

refer to walk, and auride of a few '

Lombardy poplars

'lfto the utznost,hededlt‘

   

ork . . ~ ,
mm, ,, mam: h drew
ml stirs“,

the one I expected to meet,” said the man,
hoarsely.

“ It matters not, you are 1guilty of waylaying
prison.

“ Up, sir, and obey me.”

“ I will pay you well to let me go.”

“ I am poor, fellow, but you caJmot bribe me
to do a wrong. \
“ I find you committing
place you where you wil
again. ’

a crime, and I shall
not be able to do it

captor was in earnest, he arose and preceded him
up the gravel road to the stables of the farm.

There Tobey was found with another stable-
man, and Alvau Judah bade them tie the man
firmly, and then inform Miss Keene of his cap-
ture, and ask her to send him to the village
prison in the lilorning.

Having seen the prisoner secured beyond the
Ixmsibility of escape, .Alvnn Judah walked to the
front door, and a knock brought the butler, to
whom he also communicated is tidings of the
capture of the footpad, for he feared that an of-
fered bribe might win his release from Tobey
‘ and his com )amon,and he wished to put this be-
yond Inssibl ity by having Cora know at once of

is capture.

Having done this. Alvan Judah walked away
. rapidly in the darkness once more, and soon
reached the gate, when a white object upon the
ground attractixl his eye.

Pickin r it up he saw that it wasa handker-
chief, anil in it were tied u some papers.

Thrusting the handkerc ief and its contents
‘ into his, pocket, he went.on his way along the

country road.
[ A walk of an hour brought him to a small vil-
r In re, but its dwellers were asleep, and not a soul
; diii he see as he walked through the deserted
streets
As he once more struck the turnpike, he heard
, the rumble of wheels behind him, and soon a
I sta e came in sight.
i uflcring from his head, he concluded he would
: draw upon his slim pon-ket—book for a ride, and
1 go accordingly hailed the driver as he was going
. Y.
*‘ Yes, I’ll give youa ride, for I know you
. now as that plucky [Jew the tried to hang on
never seen a man

 

 

l sarcumstance evidence, and
as has more grit than you.

“ Put yer mone back, for I hours you is poor,
though it hain’t 1i e your people to be that way,
and as you is, you must be oncommon honest.

“ I goes just fifteen mile and that will give you
a lift, and the fellow as drives out then 13 a pard
0’ mine, and I’ll interdooce er and he’ll give you
a ride to the next town, an you can get on ther
keers, or walk to suit yourself.”

So said the good-hearted driver and Alvan
Judah took a seat upon the box th him, and
went whirling along through the country at the
rate of seven miles an hour. .

Arriving at the next vilfie, the driver called
his brother of ‘ the' reins do and gave him to
understand just who the Jew was, and Alvan
Judah received a warm invitation to accept a
seat on the box for the twenty miles that the
combined passenger, mail and freight coach had
to o to reach the railroad town.

1% was just breakfast time ’ when the coach
reached the tavern, and thanking his kind friend,
the driver, Alvan Judah . partook of a hearty
meal, and still hoarding his limited means again
set out on foot.

After a walk of a few miles he came to a snug
place for a nap, and with his sachel for a pillow

e threw himself down to rest.

It was late in the afternoon when he (Yoke,
and after washing his face and hands in a rook
near, he felt for his handkerchief to use as a.
towel, when he drew out the one he had icked
up the night before at the Oak Ridge ga , and
the havin of which he had wholly orlgotten.‘

As he g anced at it an exclamation o astonish-
ment escaped him, for it was the ve counter-
part of t a one he had put away in eachel,
and which Cora Keene had given him at has re-
quest for in one corner were the embroidered

initials—
, “D. Dwn'

evidentl the work of some fair feminine hand,
and don tleas the work of love and friendship.

Com the two handkerchiefs, Alvan
Judah foun them almost exactly alike, of the
finest material; and only differing in the color in
which the initials were embroidered.

Then he took up the pa. rs, which had been
tied'up in it, and what he iscovered there caus-
ed his handsome faceto aorta? and then grow
pale, while he muttered sev :

“ Too bad! too bad I”

’ CHAPTER XIII. V
THE MIDNIGHT ' RES.
Karma to his plan of  king by night
mostly, taking long naps in the mornings and
afternoons, in some quiet nook by the roadside,
and getting his. _
villages, Alvsn Judah bun-led

QM '

 

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on to New

near,

 

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shall send you to |

The man uttered a curse, but seeing that his i

meals’at convenient farm-houses-

? en heca
Aampwigiln one '

i the distant light cast up by the city met his
view, and he congratulated himself that he was.
- near the end of his long tramp. ‘
At length he halted by the roadside, and stood
I leaning against a large stone ate-post, to which ,
hung a massive gatedeading into the grounds of l
a handsome mansion, a hundred yards back ll
from the highway.
‘: There is the city I have so longed to reach,
5 the Mecca of my hopes, where I have longed to
' struggle hard for a name and fortune ” he said
' aloud. ,
“ And now a sadness comes over me which I
‘ cannot throw off, when I know that in a couple
, more hours I will have reached the goal of my
‘ desires.

“ In all that vast city I have not one friend,
Holt] an acquaintance even, that I can now re-
ca .

“ I will be alone, utter] so, among a strange
people, while, as the foun ation of my fortune I
have but fifteen dollars.

“So be it, 1 will not despair, for I am young
yet, have health and a determination to con uer
I s:1c( ess— lla! some vehicle is up roaching. ’

He shrunk back in the shadow o? the ail-way,
not willing to be seen. and a momen after a
light spring wagon containing three men rolled
up to the gate.

“This is the place,” said one of the men as he
sprung out.

“The old Jew lives in style,” remarked another,
while the third asked: . i

“ Where shall we leave the wagon Z” .,

“ Just inside the gate, among the shrubbery
and you, Fred, remain with it, ready to run ii
we have to.”

“ Does or expect much trouble, cap’n .7”

“No, or the old Jew keeps only one man-
servant besides the wimmen-folks, and we can
soon manage them; but if I need you, Fred, I ‘
will whistle three times for you, while, if we
have to Mat a hasty retreat, which I do not an-
ticipate, I’ll give one call, and then you open the
gate and get ready to drive of! at a run as soon
as we reach you.’

“I’ll be read , cap’n, and I hope the old Jew’s
boodle will e yer expectations.”

“ I know that it will, for he has a strong-box
in his room, and the girl’s diamonds are worth a
small fortune.”

Such was the conversation which Alvan Ju-
dah heard, as he crouched in the shadow of the
gateway. '

PCT L:- th> 

L

 

- W use“ .2

 

Then the gate was 0 nod and the horse was
led into the grounds angehalted in the midst of‘a
clump of ornamental shrubbery. Av '

What followed between the hrce men Alvan'
Judah could not hear, though the sound of their
voices reached him.

As the two men walked off, their comrade led
the horse into a convenient place, and then be-
gan to pace to and fro in the walk.

Alvan Judah was an utterly fearless man,
and, having heard the conversation of the men,. ., 
he knew that their determination was to rob the .7 
house of the person they had spOken of as “ the 
old Jew.” , '

At once he intended to do what he could to'
thwart their villainy. ‘ " ‘

By raising an alarm he could fri hten the men
off; but then the would make thefi: _ {UM  _
thus keep them ves free from thymine“ 1. ‘_
they deserved, while at anothertilnefihey might
cavrgy out uccesafully their nefarious plot. "

a v of t
back to walk from him,
Jew sli quickly over the wall and with-
any sound to attract attention.
Again e man turned in hiswalk,and this
time Alva» Judah glided forward to a  ~ :1
arbor-mm, and stood awaiting theapp . ’ '
ofthenn’nu nhisnextturn. ',
scar“ on “1‘11"me or”
a , 0 Win . V a
algal-muzzle prageduargainst his head; md heard

“grminous words; are, '.'

on are m prisoner '

“Ihasthese’iiseto admit, a that when I sees
denying it is no 00d,” was the cool response of ,
the fellow, after first.“ of surprise.

“ You will save your life by promptly obey- " 
ing my orders, so walk to the head of yonder _
horse!” ' ' ‘ ' .. ' "

The man obeyed. I ‘ ‘ f .

“ Now lie down flat upon your face,and‘ put " '”"
m hands up over your back!” came the m

61‘. _ ‘ ,
This, too, the man obeyed, and, with one, of
the reins the Jew hastily detached, he bound the
man’s hands behind him, and ' the other
end around his feet had him secured ‘ yond all

.,

: ‘a‘fl-w ,, I

'5va

him, as he
the
out

gt;  . :..

.‘ 1.9g

S

. ‘st

r9. idly up toward omnsion.
e approached in the shadow 0.! the amt-

  

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i”

m 

 

possibility of coca . . t l 
Takin fmm hpliii ax revolver, Alvan Judah   ‘
hastil edthe hometoatt'eo,tben\With ahaltor ‘ - '24:,
boun the buggy wheels, so that the animal . 

 

could not be hastil driven away, and walked '-  ,1, 4. ,

 

    
 

 

 

 

mental trees, walking without sound upon the, ' '
velvety grass,and began a hastycircni of the :~. .,
mansion to discover just where the, burglar , i

were. . '.
Atl f of a, .

t sight of the
saw-that it

the rooma, on
was from a dark lantern .

   

 

f l

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

. ,n.

 (Jew Detective.

 

 

o-—

a flower-stand from which the vases had been
removed, had been used as a means of entrance
to the mansion.

Ascending the step-like structure, Alvan
Judah gazed within, and the glimmer in the hall—

.. .c.._h_.._.......... .

The window sash was raised, he observed, and '

‘ hair and heard being snow—white,

way told him that the burglars were ascending i

to the floor above.

Instantly he ste ped into the room, (Tossed it
noiselessly. and g ancing out of the door, beheld
the two men about half—way up the broad stair-
way, ascending cautious] and slowly, and with
their dark lantern cl 3 , for the bronm figure
upon the newel post held a gas—jet which was
dimly burning. .

To step forward and raise the light to its full
blaze, and spring back into the cover of the
doorway was the work of a second, while in a
ringing voice he cried t0 the startled burglars:

“ You are entrapped,  yield, or my men fire
on oul”

he burglars stood aghast, for they felt that
they were indeed entrapped.

In the shadowy space above of the hallway
their imagination caused them tosee men, and
at the foot of the stairs now stood Alvan Judah,
the revolver he had taken from their comrade
leveled at them.

The ringing words of the Jew had alarmed the

I household, and voices and footsteps were heard

above. ‘ ~
“ Quick! do you. surrender?” cried the Jew,
sternly.

“ You may, Dot, but I won’t, for my neck’s in
a noose now ” shouted the one whom his com-
rades had called captain, and, quick as a flash
be bounded over the banisters to the floor below,
while he said, savagely:

“ Don’t bar my way, or you are a dead man!"

He was armed, and pulled tr' er as he spoke
and Alvan Judah uttered a slig t cry that tol
{he was hit; but, a second after, he fired and the
bur lar fell heavily upon his face.

“ I ow, sir, do on wish to follow your com-
rade?” cried the ew addressing the other bur—
glar, who replied, sullenly:

“ Don’t you see my hands is up, Cap?” -

“ Put down your arms, thenl

“ They is down, quick,’ was the answer, as the
burglar dropped a. revolver and knife upon the J
stairs.

 we; as. . p... ..

emano y J asa ormap a ve
carrying in his hands a. shotgun, and calling
out'

. “ Vat vas t’e matters mit t’e fuss down dare?"

“Hold, sir! Do not fire, for I have captured
two burglars whom I tracked into {our house,”
said Alvan Judah, as he observed t e possessor
of the gun looked as though he might shoot at
random. ‘ .n
“Purglnrs was in mine house?” cried the one
at the head of the stain.

“Yes, sir, and I was compelled to kill one
though not until he shot me through the arm did
I fire pon him. The danger is over now, how-
ever, and if you will kindly bring me a rope I
will secure this fellow.”

“ Who vas you, mine f "at?"

“That I Will explain, , when I have this
man secured.”

“ Father I will get a rope from the lumber-
room,” silk 9. sweet voice, though its possessor
was not visible.

“Curse you, did you undertake this alone?”
growled the burglar as he stood under the muz-
zle of the . young Jew’s pistol, for see that he
hadadangerous customer to deal wit , Alvan
J did not for an instant take the weapon of!
o in.

“Yes, forlhadnoonetoaidmc andI ' ht
as well tell you that your comrade, waitihlgat
the gate, is also a prisoner— Ah! here a
re

‘Your rdon, lady, for this midnight dis—
turbance, iut I have an uwgliycustomer here I
wish to secure, and then I ' explain the situ-
ation,” and Alvan Judah addressed a maiden
who ust then came down the stain bearings

her hands.
had thrown onarobedcchambreof

lcwvsflk, and it contrasted well with her 10

black eyes and ebony-hued hair which in

iaikmbiriidt1 on far below her waist. hElgar fag wasiblil'ilr
y' tiful,her carriage ug ,an or
voice rich and musical as she said:

“ For the good work you have done, sir, no
explanation is , though such a scene at
night in a uiet house is a shock to one‘s nerves
and espec 1y to my father, who is not in 3
health: but permit me to tie this man for he
looks ugly, while you still keep your p‘ l cov-
ering him.” . -

“ bank you, mm, but I will not trouble you
with such distasteful work. Down on your face,
air, and be quick about it, for I am in no humor
to trifle”. ‘

The man had looked the while as though watch-
ing for a chance, be it ever so slight. to make a
break forlibcrtyg‘ but seemin to realizathat his
captor was in deadly earnest e knelt down and
then drop. tm forward wheh, with an alacrity
and skill surprised the maiden, Alvan J u4
dag3r g  k at alibi: k, Ca. '9 led

cu is c wor p, grow

. thaburglqr. ,

el-
098

x

“ I have had practice in Mexico in roping just
such fellows as you ” was the quiet reply, and
Alvan Judah turn toward an old gen eman
who just then came slowly down—stairs.

He was a man of commanding presence, his
his eyes in-
tensely blink, and his features cast in a strong
mold.

He looked ill, and descended the stairs with

. difficulty.

 

 
 

“ Mine fri’nt, this vas a pad pizzineSs,” he said, i

addressing Alvan Judah.
That he was a Hebrew a glance betrayed, as it
did also that he was not one of the common

c .

He had hastily dressed himself and still car—
ried his shotgun.

“Yes, sir it is certainly a most unpleasant
affair: but I am thankful it was no worse.
was, fortunately, on my way into the city, and
halting by your gate to rest, saw three men
drive u in a wagon and heard their plot to rob
on. he remained in your grounds with the
orse and wagon, and, after securinr him. I
came on here, found that these two ha entered
the library window, so followed them, and was
so fortunate as to prevent their doing harm;
but have you no man-servantin the house, whom
you can send for an officer?”

“Mine fri’nt, this is no time to thanks you, so
you vill vait another moments for that.

“As for mine man-servant he vas gone to a
ba to-night but must come soon home,'and
t’e “lumen gals is up—stairs so padly scared as I
vas

“ Then I will go after an officer if you will
direct me where to find one.”

“ But you are wounded, sir, for see—your
hand is blood-stained!” anxiously said the
maiden, and then she added:

“Permit me to dress ‘ygur wound, as best I
can, and then I will go a r he] .”

“ No, no, missl I would not ear to our go-
ing out, and my wound is but slight. . his man
is dead,” and he bent over the burglar captain,

“ and will give you no trouble, and this One can-

not so I Wi go myself.”

The maiden directed Alvan Judah where to
find the nearest police station, and he left the
house, the beautiful J ewess locking the door
after him.

As he had no reins for the horse of the bur-

lars, and the police-station was not very far, he
hastened on, on foot, and leaving the grounds,
was re idly walking along the highwa , when
sudde y a man stepped out from be a huge
rock, and leveling a istol full at him, cried:

“Now, Jew, your ime has come to die I”

 

. CHAPTER XV.
run INFLUENCD or A THREAT.

I MUST now return to the prisoner. whom AJ-
van Judah left in the hands of Tobey, the coach-
man, at Oak Rid 6 Farm.

As the young ew had anticipated, and had
prepared against by informing the butler of his
capture, that he might make it known to Cora,
the (prisoner, the moment he was left in the
ban act the negroes,began to plot for his es-

ca .

Inwasamanwhoneap rance su
thathehad at least been rn a gent man,
whatever level his evil nature might have
dr§ged him down to.

' e was rather flne-lookin , though his face
bore a sinister expression, an his attire was of
fashionable cut.

The moment he was alone with his two keep-
ers he said:

‘ Well, in men, there is a mistake about this,
for that fe ow, without inguiry as to my mo-
tives, sprung upon me am drag me here,
while he has gone on his way, leavmg me to ap-
pear like a thief in the eyes of ,Miss Keene, whom

know quite well. '

“The fact is, I have some news of an im-
portant nataire for Doctor Keene, and I of
course do not wish to be seen in this plight, so
will y on well to release me, and tomorrow
I wi c andbeallrigh .” ‘

“ Boss, we gits ourselves inter trouble if we
lets on go,” said Tobey.

“ o, no for I certainly will not speak of it,
and Miss Keene is not aware of my having been
caught and treated as a common thief. Say
twenty dollars apiece and let me go."

The argument of the man was good. and when

'backed up by a promise of money was rather

convincing.

Tobey and his comrade were human, and
twenty dollars in their eyes were not to boldly
th lg tof.

As the hesitated, and each lanced at the
other wit a look of virtuous oubt as to the
right of releasing the risoner, that worthy, see-
ing that they might “convinced ” by a still
stronger argument, asked Tobey to take a roll
of bank-bills from his pocket and count out two
piles of thirty dollars each.

:léhis Tobey did with alacrity, and the prisoner
sai :

“Now, my man, take one pile for ourself
and, give your comrade the other, on let me

go.
Tobey put the remainder of the money back

t



    
  
   
  
   
    
   
 
    
  
    
    
   
   
   
    
 
    
    
   
  
    
 
     
    
   
 
 
   
    
  
   
   
  
   
   
   

into the prisoner’s pocket, handed his companion
his share of the bribe, pocketed the other, and
said:

“ Boss, we does this ’cause we thinks thar has
been a mistake made ag’in’ yer, as yer looks like
a remman.” ,

‘ I am a gentleman, m man, so now release it
me, and let me go, for— a!"

The exclamation was caused by the sudden ap-
pearance of the butler, who said:

“Tobey. Mim Cora sent me for the priz‘ner,
for I is to put him in the trunk-room upstaiin,
for safekeeping.”

The man groaned, for it was too late now to
tempt the negroes. with their young mistress
awn l‘e of his capture.

Tobey looked at Lynx, his comrade. and Lynx
eyed 'l obey. and both looked as innocent as i '
lambs. i

“All right; we was jist goin’ ter fetch ther ~
gem’man inter thcr house,“ said Tobey. and he  -
continued: . 

“Come, sah; missy wants yer, an' yer has ter 

 

g0.

“Can’t you yet manage it!" whispered the
prisoner.

“Manage nothin’, boss, for if you is ' ty
you has ter suffer, same as niggers does t is
caught smellin’ round a hen-roost. an’ if yer is
innercent, then.yer can git away without no
trouble. .

“ Come, salil Missy Cora have sent foi- you,”
and Tobey escorted the prisoner to the door of
~the mansion, having wholly forgotten having re-
ceived a bribe, which he then had safely pim
away in his pocket.

The prisoner was very pale when he entered
the mansion, as he saw Cora standing in the
hall ap rently awaiting him, while she said:

“ To y, leave the man in the trunk-room, so
that he cannot escape, and then mount a. horse
and ride to the‘village for an officer.”

“ Miss Keene, there is some mistake, as I can  .
explain, if you will allow me to see you alone,”
said the man, and he suddenly turned so that
Cora Keene beheld his face. .

She started as she saw him now under the ‘
glare of the hall-lamp, and slowly came the
words: .

“ Is it you, sir, that has fallen so low as to be
a common burglar?”

“Again I say, Miss Keene, there has been a
sad wrong done me. I have papers of import-
ance which I was bringing to your father, and
that man came upon me, attacked me, and no ‘
cusing me of being a burglar, dragged me to the l
stables and left me in the keeping of your ser- ‘
vants; but, if you will permit me to see you
alone, I can convince you that a wrong has been
done me.” '

“ He tqld us do same t’ing, missy,” put in To-

 

rn '.

y.
A look of scorn was upon Cora’s face, but as

her eyes met those of the prisoner, she read _

there a look of warning, and as she hesitated, he ~‘ I
d ' '

ed.

“ Could your father see the nature of the June ‘
pen; I have, I am confident, that he woul at
once release me."

“ You can show them to the officer sir.”

“The relate mour brother, Miss Keene,
and per ps you better see them before an
officer does as your father is doubtless away

from home.”
' canoe in the words and‘

    
       
     
 

There was a si V
manner of the man that caused Cora to almost .
shudder with dread of coming evil, and sincohe
had spoken of her brother, she dared not dim
gard what he said, so she remarked:

“ My father is away, and in his absence I will
look at the papers, sir.”

Then turning to the servants, she continued:

“ Take the prisoner into the library and let me
gagwhat he has to say; but do not go beyond

“Yes, misa' ,” lied Tobe ,and the risona 
wasledinto eligp , when}; a. momhgt attic
Corajoinedhimandt ene retired.

Cora. Keene was eviden y nervous, for the
mention of her brother’s name by the man had :
made her so. -

She remembered how the man, whom she now 3,.

to feel that her shot had not killed, had -’
he d papers which surely would have sent Frank ;‘
{313mm did any one care to use them agunfi‘

The one ‘who now asserted that he had impor- _.
tantpa. rs, shehadjustasmuchtqdreadfrom - is
as she had from Macy Belden, whose body, "‘
then lay in the village churchyard. ‘ 

She entered the room With a sink' fi ' '
yet wore a haughty, cold bearing, and er ‘
remark was meant to hide her real feelings, for n
she said: , - -‘f 

“Now, sir, I am ready to hear what you have"
to say, but I must confess thati I am ' ' 
that one over whom there the doom of l.
criminal, should come I here where you an
hi9?” f h ” h l espouse. I \

amsae ere, wast ecoo r

“ And wherefore, pray?” \ » .r

“BecauseIholdaseci-etthatfillgiwna
com y in my prison cell.” ,

Cora shivered, but replied;

 
     
           
   
 
           
      
       

          
     
  

   
     
          
     
         
      
        
         
   

    
         

     
     
     

          
  

        
       
     

 

:‘ Of whom do y’pu speak!”

  
 

  

i. 
cl'

ay; : w ._
’ A,

 

 

-..._.

 

 

  

a criminal act?”

“I dare say'that be forged names to paper,
and would have gone to prison, had I not re—
deemed them to save him.

“ Those forgeries I now hold, and unless I get
 ' ~ their price he shall go to prison, if I go there in
 ’ getting him jailed.”

Cora did not wince, for she had expected some
I such charge as this.

" “ She kncw that the man before her, like the

’ , one she had met in the woodland, had been most
3. .24, intimate with her brother, and might have led
I.  Frank to sin, to get hiIn into his power.

He, too, had once been an honored nest at
lhigil‘lfather‘s home, and even had pi'opo.‘ ' for her

(1

 

    
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
   
     
   
 
 
   
   
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
    
 
  
  
   
   
   
 
 
  
 
  
  
    
 
  
   
  
   
  
 
   
       
   
  
   
  
 
     
       

h But she had ever feared him and never liked

illl. .

He had gone to the bad, she knew, and had

escaped punishment for his sinful acts, to now
ap r before her and add to her misery.

, , he Jew had capturec. him as he had sent her
\ word by the butler, skulkin ; around the grounds,
and with evident intention to do some lawless
act; but she now felt assured "hat the prisoncr’s
intention had been to see her brother and force
from him money on the secret he held.

. Death had given her the papers held by Macy
Belden, and gold must buy those in the p05ses—
sion of the man then before her.‘

“ W'hat is the nature of the
hold?” asked Cora. with as nine
manner as she could assume.

“ Your brother, young as he is, is a dispcrate
gazfibler.” ‘

“ I am aware that he gambles, sir.”

, “Are you also aware that, to pay his do....-,
he has resorted to criminal acts?”

“ What, for instance?" was the cool nery.

. “Such as forging names to paper, an getting

’ the money thereon.” .

“ You may have inveigie; him into some such

- , act to profit thereby yourself, where he did not

look 11 n it as criminal.” -
“ The law will not take that view of the case',‘

. v’Miss Keene.”

_ “ Then you intend to bring these charges

against my brother?” -

' “ Oh. no, not if I am paid my price.”

' “ Name your rice.”

“ I want just 8 face of the forgeries I hold.”
“ And how much do they amount to?”

“Nine thousand dollars. ’

‘,‘ I have no such sum.”

“ Your father has.”

i “ He will have to know what it is for and he
will let the law take its course rather than buy

. r up for ed papers to save a son who is a dishonor

.to his 0 d age.”
“ Then I cannot get my price?”
“ I did not an that.” ‘
“ What then? ’
“ {I lave, sa five hundred dollars in money,
which I inten for another urpose, and—”
' “ Don’t take me for a fool, ora Keene.”
“You are too great a villain for me to, lace
{Sm in the category of fools!” was the quic re-

rs that you
filifl’erende of

i “You flatter me,” sneered the man.
“ I know on; but, as I was saying, I have five
_ do in money, and jewels that will
bringhat a sale eight thousand dollars.
“ ese I will give you, and no more, for it is
flthm-‘Z -
n .

. i’

“ Within five minutes after you show me the

.30
 villain smiled trium hantly, and (placed

his hand in his breast-pocke , when he an denly
turned deadly e.

An instant h 5 hand remained there, while he
 seemed hardly to’have the, power of movement
' 01'

h.

311 it “with?
 ug 6 papers
“member now that I left them at ray lodgings.
I will b them to you to-morrow ght, meet-
ing on in be grounds, wherever you may say.”

‘ 0,. you may bring them here, and I will re-
ceive. you in the library.”
, , “ But your father?” ‘
_f. I“  away, but should he return I will ar-
, _' that he does not see you, as it might be

with me but I

- ' worse for yon.
"1“ Erin the papers at eight o’clock, and the
butler let on in. '

g ' “ Good-ni h sir "and Corn was turning u

, wli‘on the inan called but; = pan
“ ou' forget that my hands are still in bonds,
Any feet are hobbl ”

(1001’.
.-‘?:Yes', missy,” and the negro entered the

room. .

"w, ‘fUntie‘tlie ropes that bind that man and set
, , free, for I am how confident that he did
‘ share a mailing; of importanceto me.”

” ‘Yed,_m . y,” and obey soon freed the vil-
who bowed low to Cora. took his departure
considerable haste, and once away from the
n, started in a run for the gate leading
the estate. , '
there be searched about on therfrou

0 ed:

, 'Wyibgw ‘ nothing,

   
 

{id
" 1 these papers,and

 

h, yes— Tobey!” and Cora stepped to the.

“ Do you dare assert that my brother has done 1 Eveifih them

I

oes my wer over that haughty
uty and er fool o a father.

“ By Heaven! but I had them when I set upon

the J ew, and he is the one who has them now, so

1 on his track I go in all haste, for unless I get
‘ them and force the money from Cora Keene, I

L

 

i

 

l

  

have hardly enough to get me into \Vestern
wilds beyond the reach of the law.’

 

CHAPTER XVI.
THE Mi's'rnnions DISAPPEARANCIS.

IVHEN Alvan Judah, the Jew, was so suddenly
confronted by a man staudin ' in ‘ his pathway,
holding a pistol in his face, it certainly was a
surprise, and it needed no thought to tell him
that he was in a most critical situation.

He had been hastenin on to the police station,
anxious to relieve the Oh Hebrew and his daugh-
tcr from the incubus upon their home, in the
shape of a dead and living burglar, and besides,
he had received a flesh—wound in the arm, which
was slowly bleeding, and givin him some pain.

The life he had led in Mexico 11d given Alvan

Judah considerable cxiwrience in the art of self- i

defense, and, as the reader has seen, the posses-
sion of this accomplishment rendered him good
service on more than one occasion.
Now, as he was faced by a man whose words
gave him reason to feel that he meant to kill him,
lvan J udnh dropped to the ground like a flash,
and the bullet whistlcd over his head; but though

he had seemingly fallen, the young Jew had not 1

done so, for from his crouching position he threw
himself upon his intended assassin with such
force as to send him on his back, while the im-
petus caused him to fall over him, and ere he
could check himself roll down a steep declivity
thu descent of which was some twenty feet.

iiastilv regaining his feet and running to the .

top of the bill be found his enemy gone. He
looked up and ( own the road, but saw no trace
of him.

His cane and sachel lay in the road where he
£1103 dropped them, but the intended assassin had

“That was the man whom I have twice before
met, and whose initials are D. D. How he es-
caped from those I left him with at Oak Ridge
Farm I do not know, but certain it is that he s
on my track and meant to kill me. Well, we
will meet again, doubtless.”

So so ing, the youn Jew picked up his sachel,
and sw aging it upon s cane over his shoulder,
trudged on his wa once more.

Soon a green lig t caught his eye, as the way
became more thickly set led and oing toward
it, he discovered that it was the po ice station.

Entering he found a sergeant in charge, and

uickly to d him his story, and then asking
or a surgeon to dress his wound, he was direc

iii 21w doors further on to where a physician
V I

“By the time he has fixed you up, sir, we will
beready to start, for I have to send out on the
beats for a con le of men as I have only one
man on duty wi me,” said the sergeant.

Judah went on to the house of the physician
but finding that he was away on a proferqlonai
call, continued on his way. -

As he did not return in a quarter of an hour,
the sergeant sent after him, but learned, with
surprise that he could not be found, so he was
forced to go to the home of Emanuel Gaspar
with his‘ two men only.

Arriving at the gate, he found the horse and
wagon, and 1 ing near them, securely bound,
the burglar w om ‘Alvan Judah had first made
prisoner. , ‘

At the mansion door he was met by the valet
of the aged Hebrew, who had just returned, and
was in a plight at the way he found affairs at
the mansion.

The dead burglar captain lay in the ball, as an
evidence of thayoung Jew’s deadly aim, and
near him was the third one of the robber trio,
securely bound. 4. ‘

Marielle Gaspar, the beautiful J eweas, explain-
editllig situation to the officers, and then asked,
qu c y:. ., I

“ But, where is our brave defender?”

The police sergeant told her how he had direct.
ed Alvan Judah to a ph sician. and, since then,
had not seen him, but i erred that he had gone
on to find another surgeon to dress his wound.

“ Was he da erously wounded, sir?” asked
Murielle, .1an y.

"I think not, for he seemed to make light of
it; but he had bled free

“ When you hove
£313, sir, will you kindly have one of your men

e a carriage and look up that youn man,
and bring him back to us?” asked Marie 8. , ,

“If you wish it, miss, certainl ; and in fact,

itiis veryimportant that we sh d find  as a

tneas.
 for that follow ht has killed, he is en—
men in the city, and is an escaped convict, for
whose capture, dead or alive, quite a little sum
is offer . ,

“ 0h! he’ll turn up to ft his reward, miss." .

“ I. ffiditéefdr tihoughu: seeniled lite one wleig
wasin nchcum: oes eye spear
to me to be-aman who would niece tno avers.”
Mlle  had a noble 109' about him,

1 .” . .
tazeu these burglars with tr

to a reward, for that is one of the worst '

w--...__,.- _. _.-

i miss, although he was so dust—covered and pale-

= looking; but there are mighty few men that go . ,
against their interests nowadays,” said the prac-
tical ser cant. i

“ Wel , sergeants, if on flnds t’e shentilmans

for me I vill give you ve hundred tollers,” said .
Emanuel Gaspar, who had sat in silence, listening i
to all that had occurred. ‘

‘ “ It is my duty to find him, sir, without the

‘ very liberal reward you offer,” said the surprised

' sergeant.

“ Veil, you finds t’e shentilmans, and I gives
you t’e monish, for he have saved me mooch

ortunes, and maype my life and t’e lives of mine
dau htcr, and I vas vish to do him some good.”

“ '1] do my best, Mr. Gaspar, you may de-
pend upon it, and send you word as soon as I
can hear something of him,” and the sergeant
followed his men out of the house, for the ' had
already departed with the body of the den bur-
glar and the prisoner.

Upon arriving at the station—house the ser-

eant at once set his best detectives to Work to

d the young Jew. \

But, night came, and no trace of him could be '
found, and word to that effect was sent to
Enliailiuel Gaspar, the J ew, millionaire, as he was
ca (:4 .

The papers were full of the attack upon the
elegant mansion of the wealthy Hebrew, and its -
being thwarted by a young man who, after his
daring deed, had mysteriously disappeared.

Then a-personal paragraph was put into the
! Herald, callinnr upon the unknown defender of

the Gaspar ansion to communicate with the
lice head-quarters and receive the reward due

im for the capture of one and killin of another
‘ of the burglar trio, who were esca convicts.

1 Still no answer came, and, as is usual in the v
great metropolis, after being a “ nine-days’
talk,” the tragedy and the unknown actor there-
in drifted out of the minds of all excepting Mu-
? rielle Gaspar and her father, and they continued
' to ho a inst hope that their gallantpreserver
woul ye be found. _
| But the summer changed to autumn, and win-
ter .Wltll its chilling winds and driving snow
came, and the police-sergeant gave up the hunt,
' confident that e would never wm his reward,
. and told Emanuel Gaspar that his idea was that
igsome of the rest of the gun had been in waiting
and, trackin the young ew, had killed him
and tthus 0 ed his career, for, added the ser-
gean :

“ No sane man would hide himself from those
who wished to serve him, especial] when he was *
poor, as I am confident he was, an needed aid.” 5

Ir was near the merry Christmas time, and

the ground was covered with snow. The metro-

lis was ablaze with light, the shop-windows ‘
ooked .hke fairy palaces, urrying men and we'-
man With arms full of bundles, and the jingle of
sleighbells mingled with the sound of Voices
g: tgustle of a moving mass of humanity and
as . . ‘ '

Suddenlya stylish carriage rolled to the '
pavement, and stopped on the corner 0 a side ‘
street, near the door of one of New York’s grand
jewelry establishments, and a. footman Iprung
to the carriage-door. ,

“Daniel, go in and ask if my gurchases are
packed yet and if no say that will wait for
them ” said a sweet vo‘ce within the vehicle.

“ Yes, miss,” and the footman entered the
brilliantly-lighted store, while the occu nt of .
the carriage, muffled up in costly furs, owered ' 2'
the window-glass to gaze out. . » f

Sudden] a woman‘s form came along the
street, a it seemed at the first glance that she
had been imbibing deep] in honor of the merry
season, for she s and clutched for  , ‘
pgt against the ing thatran alongside of , , ' '
3 re ~ I

“How fearful a thing it is to-see awotnan
fallen so low,” murmured the occupant of the
carriage, with scorn in her tone.

“5.. --

 

CHAPTER xvii.
THE RECOGNITION.

I

Then she saw another form a r—-—a tall
man, with broad shoulders, drawn ther with
cold, for he were no overcoat, and walked as _

though heifelt the bitter weather.

He was passin the woman as she stood cling-~
ing to the ra ,_ when something about her
seemed to strike him, and turning quickly he

 

d. ~ ‘

“My good woman, you are ill and in dis-A
ass. ’

“Oh sir! I came out to bu bread for in

*‘_'~

children, and a wretch snatch my little pocke
book from my hand. .
“It had but a trifle in itr—a paltry two dol- i

lars, but it was all I had in the world, and ,I am
notstro ‘ ,soithas made me‘ feel as though I
would fal here in the snow and die.” , r
The sto was a pitiable one, and one glance
into thb ace, in _ which carriage-lamp
shone was sum out to show, t t.the Woman
told'thetruth.’ ' r . ’ - '
“ My oodwaman, I have but five dollars in
the wor d, and I am just starting 11 u a long. _
tramp up into the country, where I ' ow I can .
get work, for here I can find nothing; but .
are Welcome to two dollars of. what 111an 

’

l

      

 

    
  

11

 

Here, take it, for our children must not go hum ‘

gry. the night be ore Christmas.”

“Oh, sir.” cried the woman. but he IOX‘I'Hl
into her hand two one-dollar bills, and drawing
his coat more closely about him was hurrying
on, when suddenly the carriage door was thrown
open, and out sprung the occu nt.

The light shone upon a heav11y-furred, slender x

form, and a face that was bright and most beau—
tiful.
Into the snow she set her dainty feet; her

loved hands were stretched outward, and sud- ,
( euly the man, who would have turned aside ;

and avoided the elegantly-dressed lad ' in her
seemin haste, felt his hands seized in be
own, w ile upon his surprised ears fell, in sweet-
est accents:

“ [ have found you at last, and now you shall
not escape me.”

The man started back and gazed upon the ,

beautiful face that looked so earnestly up into
his own.

He had seen it once before, and then in her
own home, when she owed much to him, perhaps
the life of her father.

She was Murielle Gaspar, the Jewess.

He was Alvan Judah, the Jew.

“Oh. sir, alread ' has God rewarded your‘
3

noble act to me, for with that sweet lady your
friend, 1 am sure you can know no more suffer-
mg.
The speaker was the poor woman whom Alvan
Judah had given the money to, and she glided
hastily away after giving utterance to her words
of gratitude.

But neither the man nor the maiden seemed to i

hear her. for the former seemed to be suddenl
overwhelmed, as though with some terrib 0
stroke, for he uttered not a word, while the face
of the latter beamed joyous] , and she still
rasped the hands of Alvan udah, as though
- ear 111 that he might try to escape her.

“ Do you not know me!” she asked, after a
moment.

“ Yes, I remember you perfectly, lady,” was
the. low reply.

“ And you treated my father and myself
shamefully to hide from us as you did; but I
have foum you now, and you are to return
home with me in the carriage, and most warml
will on be welcomed.” -

“ o, lady, I am hardly fit company for any
(me tonight. but if you wish it, I will call at an-
other time,” he said. sadl .

“ No, you must go wit me now, for I heard

on tell that poor woman that you intended to
cave the city, where I feel that you have suf-
fered from poverty, though you are too proud

admit it to me.

“ You are to $8, sir for I will not have you
say na , and— ell Daniel?” and she turned
to the ootman, who fast then came out of the
store.

“ The things will not be ready for more than
an hour, miss,” was the report of the footman.

“Then, Daniel, you remain and bring them
home, hiring a cab to brin you, for I have met
a gentleman friend here W cm I am anxious to
at once have return with me to my father.

“ Jose h, drive home with all ,” she ad-
ded, ad cssin the driver, and en, as if hav-
in made up er mind to take no refusal, she

said to Alvan Judah:

“ Now, sir, we will start home.”

Alvan Judah saw that it would be the hight
of rudeness to further refuse so he aided Muri-
elle into the carria e, and then followed her,
while the footman c osed the door and the'vehi-
cle rolled ra idly away. ,

Through t e lighted streets the carriage passed,
the spirited horses crushing the snow beneath
their feet, out through Central Park, and then
along the highway leading to the elegant home
of Emanuel GaSpar.

At len th the horses were drawn down toe
walk as t ey apgroached a. hill, then a loud voice
was heard, an t en thee? ' cametoasudden
halt, while the door was 1Jerk rudely open, and
a man’s form was V1811) 6, while in threatening
tones came the words: '

“Come, miss, I wants my Christmas giftl I
wants yer money, Jewels. and all yer has bought
down-town, so hand ’8!!! over or take the conse-
quences.”

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
nUiNEn.

BACK to the hills and valleys of New En land,

to Oak Ridge Farm, I would have the er ac-
’ oompan me, some days after the departure of
Alvan udah for New York city.

After having released the prisoner, upon his
promise to return the followin ni ht with the
papers which condemned her rot er, and for
which she was willing to make such a sacrifice
of her personal effects, Cora Keene did not for a
moment doubt but that he would return, for she
knew well his sordid character, and that, with
threatened punishment hanging over him for
crimes committcd he would be but too anxious
to seek safety in flight.

But the night wore away and he did not come,
and, after waiting until midnight she retired to
rest, thinking that the fellow held no such papers
aslhe had said, and merely told her so to gain his

.‘re ease.

th her ;

 

The J cw Detective.

Still. why was he in that neighborhood, she
wondered.

He had been known to the dead man, she was
well aware. and that the two should be near her
home was a mystery that she could not solve.

The next day she rode out alone on horseback.
in the hope of meeting him: but she took good
care to carry with her a revolver, and have it
ready for use if needed.

But after a long ride she returned without
seeing the one she sought, and met at the gate-
wav Doctor Austin Travers.

e saluted her in his pleasant way, and said:

“ Miss Cora, I have heard of your escape, and
that of your brother, and offer you my warmest
congratulations thereon. "

“Thank ou, Doctor Travers, and are you
aware to w om we owe our escape from certain
death?”

" From a tram ), some one said, who was go—
ing along the big way at the time.”

‘ If walking along the highway, because he
has no money to ride from town to town makes
a man a tramp, Doctor Travers, our rescuer was
one, for he was on his way to New York, with
his world] goods swung u n his back.”

“ Then {was right] in ormed regarding his
being a tram ); but env him the service he
rendered you, ’ warmly sait the doctor.

“ He but returned, so he said, a service I had
rendered him.”

“ Indeed? In what way had you served him,
Miss Cora?”

" Saved him from the gallows.”

“Ha! it was that handsome Jew then?” and ,

the doctor‘s face clouded.

“Yes, it was the Hebrew gentleman, who so
nearly lost his life bv my act, and who, I judge.
is glad to shake the dust of our neighborhood 03
his feet.”

“ He was fortunate in being near ”

“ My brother and myself were more fortunate,
Doctor Travers, and I can never forget his risk-
ing his life to save us.

‘Frank was fretful and rudely insulted him,
but Mr. Judah had the good sense to overlook
his words, and after tea started on foot, refusing
my ofler of a carriage to continue his way to the

cit .

‘¥Soon after his departure he found a man
skulking about, as though intending mischief
and brought him up to Tobey . but I found that
the fellow had come to bring some pa rs of an
important character to my father, an so I re-
leased him.”

“Why, the Jew has made himself quite a
hero,” said the doctor, in a way that showed he
was 'ealous.

“ n my e es he ever will be,” was Cora’s cool
remark, an the doctor changed the subject by
askin after Frank.

“ e is improving ra idly since you saw him,
though the shock of t e runaway did him no

“I was called away to Boston on important
business, and felt that he could spare me, with
such 8. 00d nurse as you have proven yourself,
to watc over him.

“ But has your father returned?”

“ No, doctor, but I expect him hourly,” and
the two rode on together up to the mansion.

Aiding Cora to dismount, Doctor Travers
went up to see Frank, promising to join the
maiden at tea in half an our.

“And how did you find my brother?” asked
Cora, as the youngshysician entered the library
some time aftcrw .

“ Much improved, and confident that he will
be himself again in two weeks more.”

A pleasant téte-d-té‘te followed, and then the
fair young hostess and her guest adjourned to the
parlor, the doctor, for some reason, seeming
firefly nervous for one of his rofemion.

“ iss Cora,” he said, approac in her as she
sat at the iano, havin just finish asong he
had asked er tosin or him, “ I think I may
say that m professional services toward your
brother en to-day, for he no longer needs my

“You have saved his life, Doctor Travers,
and, with myself, father will ever appreciate all
that you have done.”

“I have but done my dut ,Miss Cora; but
while I have been here, watchin by your bro-
ther’s bedside, I have not been lind to your
noble nature, and from the time that I first met

on as a youn girl, I have loved you. that love
increasin wit ime. until now I feel that you
hold my appiness in your little hands, and I
beg ou, Cora, for one Word of hope that some
da I may claim you as all my own.”

e had taken her hand as he spoke, and his

voice and manner proved how deeply in earnest
he was.
She did not withdraw her hand, nor did she
blush at his words. but lookin him square] in
the face was about to re ly, w an n to the cor
rolled a carriage, and s e heard t e loud call
with which her father was wont to make his ar-
rival known.

“ Pardon me, for my father has come,” and
she sprung to the door. to be clasped in the
strong arms of astern-faced but handsome old
gentleman who just then entered the room.

“Bless you, my child. how glad I am to see
you again: and where is Frank?” said Doctor

 

Keene. and in asking the question an anxious
look swept over his face.

“ Father. Frank has not been very well of
late, but here is Doctor Travers. and he can tell
you all."

" Ah. Travers. glad to see you, and I sup
you are here to attend Frank: but not '
serious, I hope?" ,

Doctor Travers shook hands with the master ‘
of Oak Ridge F arm, and in a terse. professional
way, told the story of Frank's injuries, and how '
it had been decided by Cora and himself not to
let him know of the trouble at homc, unless
there was absolute need for his coming.

“I am glad that you did not recall me, now
that you tell me my boy is in no danger, for it
would have been only at a great sacrifice that I
could have come, and I have perfect confidence
in you. Travers. if on have yet a few years to
live before you reac thirty,

“ButI will go at once to see the boy,”and
Doctor Keene soon after entered Frank’s room.

There was no word of upbraidin toward the
erring youth. only affectionate so icitude, and
when Frank said:

“ Father, I owe my life to Doctor Travers,"I
the old physician said earnestly:

“ \Vhen I now know how seriously you were
hurt, and see you as you are, I can well believe
it, my son.”

“And I hope sister will marry Travers, f or
he deserves her, and loves her to death, as a.
blind man can see; but she is sweet on a Jew
tramp.”

“ rank, how dare you speak as you do?” cried
Cora, indignantly, for Doctor Travers was also
present, and then. with her face crimson with
anger, she told her father the story of her being
assailed in the woodland and all that followed.

Not just as it occurred did she tell all, for she
kept back the knowledge that she was acquaint-
ed with the dead man, and that, as Macy Bel-
de he had once been a guest at their home.

or did she betray the secret of the Jew, that
other hand than her own, as she was confident,
had fired the fatal shot.

The manner in which she saved the Jew from
the gallows, and then his having risked his life
to save herself and Frank she made known, and
then concluded by saying:

“ And now, father, because I would not see
that man die on the gallows when innocent, and
treated him kindl . as he deserved to be, Frank
makes this unkin charge ainstme,” and tears
filled the beautiful eyes of e maiden.

“ My son, your sister has done just right in
mugs and it is to her credit that she has

as. has, while I amsurgflsedthatyou,
even ill though you were, should ve been rude
to an one, especially to one to whom you owed
your ' e and your sister’s.

“But I amtoohapp at ouresca toscold
you, so will only say t t would h e to find
this young Hebrew that I may reciprocate as
far as I can the obligations he has placed me un-
der to him.”

“ I hate Jews,” sneered Frank, but no notice
was taken of the remark, and the conversation
was changed, and soon after Doctor Travers
took his leave, and as father and daughter stood
on the piazza together. Cora said:

“ Father, Doctor Travers honored me to-night
by an offer of his hand.”

“ And your answer, in child?”

“ I was about to tell im that I did not love
him, nor did I feel that I ever could, when you
drove up ere I replied.”

“ Then his attention is distasteful to you?”

“ Oh, no, father: for he is a noble man, and I
respect and like him very much as a friend, but
not ing

more.”

‘I am lad to hear yousaythis,Cora,forI
wish my gaughter to make a more brilliant
match than to m a poor country practition-
er, fine fellow thong he is.

“There are plenty of rich young men in the
city whom you can have your choice of. and you
are too young to think 0 marrying, for, let me
seeZ Iyou are not eighteen yet i”

‘ will not be eighteen for three months,
father.”

“ Now, my child, I will go to my study and
see what letters have come or me, as I am all in
the dark on my correspondence, for I did not
stop in New York, so anxious was I to return
home.”

He kissed Cora good-night and sought his.
library, and she sought her room.

But not to slee ,and as hour after hour passed
and her father 1d not come up—stairs, for she
could have heard him if he had passed her door,
she slipped on a wrapper and descended to the
library.

There sat her father, his face buried in his
hands and a mass of unopened letters before

him.

“ My child,” he groaned, as he heard her step
and looked up at her, and what followed was
spoken very slowly:

“ I am mined, fear utterly, for the bank in
which most of my financial interests 19. has
failed. and another letter tells me that an most
sure investment, and which I mortgaged heavily
to go into. is worthless.

“God only knows what I shall do, for you do
not know the half yet.”

. .e-_....a..s..i.-. 'u-w- .- *4 w. -.... .W....._.. .. X. .. .. “7.5-...

 12' ’

_'.~. --. .,

The Jew Detective.

 

 

 

 

“Never mind, father, for if on are poor I
love you just as dearly, and you ow I am con-
sidered a good artist, and my paintings will
bring us a good income. and Frank can certainly
do something for a living.”

“ Frank! your brother! oh, in child, I have
cramped myself to pay off his (eeds of wrong,
to save him from prison.

“ N 0, no, all is gone, and what the end will be
God only knows,” and the almost broken-hearted
old man buried his face in his hands and sobbed ‘
like a child.

39:2,“ r R" - cu»

“4354.4 us:-

;;.,_,.' , -

 

3 CHAPTER XIX.
 3 THE SACRIFICE roa GOLD.
IT was late the next morning when Cora
arose, and she anxiously asde regarding her
,.  father, for she feared that the blow he. had re-
” ‘ I ceived, in losing his fortune, might have caused
' an attack of illness, knowing, as she did, that he
i was sufl’erin from heart trouble.
' learning t t he was pacin the front piazza,
she hastily drest and Went own-stairs. <
, . f‘Here is a letter for you, Cora, brought by
‘ ‘ 3' ~ Travers’s boy,” said her father.
. He looked pale and anxious as he handed her ,
' , the note. ,»
I Evidently he had not slept all night. ,‘
Breaking the seal somewhat impatiently, she ,
glanced at the contents, and then cried: ‘
“ Oh, father! listen to this.” i
Aloud she read: 1

“ MY DEAR Miss Conn-vi cannot refrain from i
' sending on word of a most delightful piece of j
news. wh ch fell to me last ni ht. l
, “U n my return home found a gentleman ,
. await ng me. and he was an attorney from Chicago. 5
, i " It seems that my father invested largely many .
v i year-saga, in Illinois lands, and a number of acres ,
a that I held there. believing to be of little value now ,
‘ turn out to be worth ; milllim and more, for am ‘
offered that sum for them. I
I .‘ "This chm e in my fortunes necessitates my go- l
" , on at once On to Chicago, and ere I departl would !
the to see you, and have from you an answer to my 0
on'ered love last night.
. , "i will call over his afternoon, and speak to your
' other upon the subject, and live in hopes that you
I, ill not cast aside the hand of one who love: you as
evotedly as does Ausrm Tunas."

u ;l “ on, father! is henotfortunatsi” cried Cora.
 "so venom... new ms “92.122’
' or t n wyers, on y
Waitworth a million and a half nownit l
w‘ soon double ibelf, and he had betternot dis-

* poseof it all. p

“Buthill have a talk with him upon the ,
subject, and, Com, now that I thinkof it,as-Dr. |
'Traversis to call this afternoon for an answer i
fromnyou, I really feel that you should accept

-. i-nu panther)" and there was almost indignation

   
  
  
    
  
 
     
  
 
  
   
    
    
     
     
  
   
   
      
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
     
    
 
  
  
   
  
       
   
   
   
   
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
   
  
  
    
    

thewaélshe utteredtheword.
' “Myc‘ d, thereisnothing nst Travers
andasheisnowarichmanit notdotocast

“ I can bolster upmy affairs for a few months,
{andthenhecan help me out so thatl'cnn get
(upon my feet ' , fluanc' y.
'“ tisif havetogiveupmhousein
 ., New York, thisdear old home where was born,
my father before me, and which is also your
gbirtlfiplace, it would kill me.
J “ y ranch must 0, cattle, property and ev-
and I we go too, for it would break
my heartto go from wealth and luxury to pov-
erty and cheap living. _
‘ Now, mly child, acce t l‘ravers and you save
carpooro d father; re use him, and I am aru—
 man, and, more, I can never live through
the ordeal. ”

Gore’s head was bent low and her form trem-
; but only for an instant, for raising her
83:11! gazing straight into her father’s eyes,

~- “Father, I am aware'that Frank has driven
on to poverty more than your ions
vs, for I know all, and now I am glad that I

,Iwould gladlybo poor if hap-
wo d come witgéxoverty; but for you I
.must make everysac cc, and I will accept
'Doctor Travers, and strive hard to love him,

socheerup,andletus not speakupon the sub-
' t

“God bless you, my child, for you know not
.616 heavy loud you have taken from my heart
and brain ”

- Cora made no reply, but sighed, for she could
not‘bnt see that her father had suddenly devol-
" uselflshness of nature she had not known
7 ' tobepossessedof before; butthen she had
" never before seen him brought face to face with
anticipated poverty, and under such circum-
~y smncesaman, to preserve his 'l'iChes, grasps at
i «very stmw, whet er a noble or ignoble one.

. That afternoon Doctor Travers called, and the ~
g physician made it a point to meet him upon

" congratulated him over and over again
hisgoodfortnno, toldhim not to be hasty

g, makingsales of land thstwas im vingin
.uhluesora idl ,andthenled himin thepar-
 and col ed . ‘ ’ ,
The maiden entered soon afteriand found the
doctor alone, for her father had excused

and taken a hasty departure, not givmg

s‘

32'
a”;
it

   

‘K

 
 

  

 

 
  

  

he did not see distinctl

Austin Travers a chance to talk with him upon
the subject so near his heart.

Cora showed no blushing face, such as one
might expect in one who was going to listen to a
propiosal from a man who was to be her hus—
oaii .

She greeted the doctor leasantly and then

took a seat near him whi e she congratulated .
him upon the good fortune that had befallen i

him.
“I am indeed fortunate. Cora, but I prize it
only in the hope that you will share with me my

, riches.

“Last night. ere you could reply to my offer

of love, your father arrived: but I went away '
‘ hopeful that [might notbo rendered unhappy by ‘

your I‘QSpi lIlSQ.

“ Last night I told you of m deep love for i

you: this morning I wrote you 0 my prospects

in life, and that I was no longer a poor country 1

doctor, and now I have come for my answer.

“ W'ill it be 'cs, Cora?”

He. took her and and looked up into her face. 1

Cora Keene was very pale, and her hand i
trembled a little, while pearly tear-drops rolled 1
down her cheeks.

But her voice was firm as she answered:

“ I will be your wife, Doctor Travers, though i
I am young yet. and hardly know what love is. i

“ But I will try and love you more and more, 
and make you a true, devoted wife.

“ Can I say morei” l

He could not, or did not ask more, for though 1
she had not said that she loved him, in the hap— i
piness her words gave him. he did not notice it, I
and that do ' he started for the West to take 
ssessinn 0 his fortune, and departed with a I
eart that was full of Joy. "
But what a shadow would have fallen upon his l

heart had he seen poor Cora after his departure, Sir

throw herself uson her bedand weep as though ’

 heart woul break, while she moaned bit- ,
r :

“I do not love him! I do not love him and

may forgive me if I do wrong; but I sac-

riflce myself to save my father and brother.”

CHAPTER XX.
camnmo A TARTAR.

Lll'l' us return to the situation in which we left
yurielle the Jewess, halted in the roadway by a

Hmwmdgashethrewopenthecarriage' door

roved that he 'knew her, and also that he be:
loved she would bring him a rich harvestby
robbery.

There were two of them, and the had pa-
tiently awaited in the snow and cold t 9 coming
of the carriage.

When the vehicle had dra near they had
stepped out of the shadow of he trees, just at
the foot of the hill. and while one seized the
horses by their hits with one hand, he leveled a
pistol at the coachman with the other.

Hiscomrade meanwhile sprung to the door of
the carriage, with a word of warning to the
coachman, and throwing it open confronted, as
he believed, the Jewess only, or in the darkness

y.

But he felt for a blow full in his face felled
him,.as a shot might have done, and so quickly
and inaogiselestsil};d that alvan J udtailh wtisgogt of the
carr e an vancmg upon 9 o r ootpad,
are that wortaléy was aware of the change in the
situation of airs.

Seeing the form of the Jew approaching, and
in the darkness mistaking him or his comrade,
he cried: .

“ What’s up, Nat?“ ‘

With a bound Alvan Judah was upon' him,
and the pistol was struck from his hand, while
the two men clinched in a death- is.

“Drive on, conchman, for I will mreof
this fellow ” shouted Alvan Judah, and the ter-
rli‘fluordeasc h “pit oncef started tohobey, when

w 0 one oot upon t a carriage-
sciefi), and was leaning out gazing upon the scene,
ed out: '

“ Hold on, sir! do not dare do such a cowardly
not, bpt get of! of your box and aid that gentle-
man.

“ The horses will run away if I do, miss,” an-
swered the coachman, and speaking in a tone
that showed his anxiety to do likewise. _

“Then remain where you are, and I will aid
him,” responded the brave girl, and she rung
from the vehicle just as the man whom van
Judah had felled was staggering to his feet, for
the blow had tem rarilaylstmmed him. -

“ Down, sir or will act oui” cried Muri-

seizing his revolver, whic had fallen from
his and lay on the snow. near him.

“Get out, girl, for I— Don’t shoot me, for I
cries quits i’ and the man, who suddenly found a
Moi-muzzle thrust hard against his face, quick-

y drOpped upon his knees  ‘

“ Here, Joseph, take this pistol and kill this
man if he moves, for your horses are quiet
now i" and Marielle thrust the Weapon into the
coachman’s hands, and then hastened to the
front, where just at that moment Alvan Judah
had buried his adversary to the ground and was
forcing him into submission wit hisshand upon

histhroat. - .
“Can I aid you in anyway, sir?” asked Mu-

 

 

  

“ Oh, lady, you should not have exposed your-
self to this cold; but, as you have done so, if you
l will kindly hand me that istol over there in the
‘ snow, I will bring this tel ow quickly to terms."

Murielle seized the pistol, and the foot Rid of

i once cried for quarter, and with the check-reins
l taken from the harness the two men were soon
securely bound.

“ Now, miss, while you drive on home, I will
.  “these two villains back to the police sta-
' ion.

“ No, sir, you will do nothing of the kind, for

1 you escaped me once in just such a way and shall
not do so again.

“ Let them take the front seat, and Joseph can
drive back.”

This was done, and in a little while the two
Villains, recognized by the police sergeant as old
otfendershwere in safe quarters.

' “ But, sir, how is it we have not seen you here
; in answer to all our advertisements in the -

pair?!” said the Sergeant, recognizing Alvan J):-

“ I did not read the papers, sir,” was the quiet
answer.

“ Well, we have a reward here for you, for kill-
in that burglar captain and capturing one
ot er.”

_ “ I do not care for blood-money, sir, so divide

it among the officers you sent after the men.”

“You surely do not mean that on will not

lie the reward?” said the surpri‘ sergeant of
po ce.

“ That is just what I do mean, sir, for though
I am poor, I will not live on money made
throng the death and misery of even bur lars
and sonVicts, so use the reward as you com

"3% will haveto have yoursignature to that,

 

“ I will call and give it to you; now, as this
lady has been exposed to the cold, she must.
hasten home.”

The ser cant took the hint and said no more,
and ente the carriage it at once rolled rap-
idly homeward for Joseph was all in a shiver,
his nerves having been considerably shaken up
by what had occurred.

After a rapid drive of fifteen minutes, the car-
riage drew up at the broad entrance to the Gas-
par mansion, and Murielle ushered her guest into
the warm and brilliantly-1i hted library, where
wasseated theold Jew m onaire.

t his dau hter with a courtly

years not blunted, and

ed with some surp_ rise when hesawthat she

had bro ht home with her a stran or, for

Emanuel lived almostlin the‘sec usion of”
a hermit.

After kissing her father, Murielle said:

. “ Father, I have found our hero, and in such a
strange way, and while we were coming home
he again placed both you andI under other deep
ob tions to him,formycarriage was halted
by ootpads and but for Mr. Judah I would
have been bed.”

Muriellehad spoken ra idly, while van Ju-
dah stood still in the s ow, for the plight
on the center table did not fall {Ii-Eon his face.

The aged Jew, after greeting daughter, had
turned toward the stranger, and listem to her
words insurprise mingled with alarm at or ad-

venture he started visiblyas she called “10’

name of Judah. , . ,
“Judah! did you sir! thathish name vas Ju-
dah?” he asked, quic y, and his voice slightly
trembled ‘4 ,
“Yes, sir; my name is Judah-elven Judah,”
said the young Jew, in his distinct, pleasant

tones. , =
“Ha! Judah! ,Alvan Judahl and v'ot vas

your fader’s name?” cried Emanuel Gaspar, ex- 1

citetilty.
“ y father’s name was Julius Judah, sir.
“And your mudder’s was Huldah Lindo be-
fore she married Julius Jndah, chi” almost,
the old Jew.
“ My mother’s maiden name wfi Huldah Lin-

"‘ Did you know my parents sir!” asked Alvan
Jluldgh, gregtlh);s surprised at :memotion of the
o ew an stran nosti . -

“Did I know demiedodot abrahami did I
not know dam!" came the ringing response 9f
Emanuel Gaspar.~

' .—————

CHAP’I‘ER XXL
. m ow mw’s sroar.

THE excited manner of old Emanuel Gaspar,
the Jew mini re, was an intense surprise to
not onl Alvan Judah, but to Marielle for never
before (1 she remember to have seen her father
“ignited. t h lured the I on

. momen e u n y ng man,
and then continued, and inpzn  way:

“Soto youitish datI vasowemme, e, and
the tyof mine riches, for those men when
on tr' confessed dat dey means to_kill me, if I
vas vo'ke up, and then cover up their tracks by
setting fire tot’e house. .

“My safe is in mine rooms, and I vould have
surely awakened, for I sleep put leetle bit, and
anfiiawful end vould havecomos to me and mine
ch .

“ Now it comes out so that you vss again are

 

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/ «we:

 

 

 

 

   
  
     
 
  

a . s"
v

The Jew Detective.

13

 

 

mine child from some harm, and I vas owe all
to you, Alvan Judah. . .

‘ Ah mes, but you vas not know how hards it
strikes me here to know this, for it punish me so
much, oh so much,” and Emanuel sunk
down in his easy-chair and covered his ace with
his hands.

“ My dear sir, if there is anything in my
name and resence that causes on pain, I re.
that on ow me to at once apart,” sai A -
van udah, moved b the old man’s emotion.

“ No! no! yous not depart, you shall not
' 0 hence," and nuel spoke now in the

ebrew magic, which added to his dignity as
much as his roken English detracted from it.

“ You speak your own tongue, boy i” cried the
old Jew, as Alvan Judah remained silent.

“ Certame sir, for my parents were true He-
brews,” was t e proud response.

“Then listen to me while I tell you why you
should not go awagrom here.

“It is because I ve wron ed you and yours.

“ Here, child, you, too, shafi hear the story of
your old father, and knowing how I have sinned,
you can forgive me, and my heart Will be then
at peace.

‘ Boy, you ask me if I knew your parents?

“ You shall know how well I knew them.

“ Your father, Julius Judah, was in be hood
companion, my laymate in old Eng an , and
we loved each ot er as we would have done had
the same blood flOWed in our veins.

“ Your father came with his parents to Amer-

ica, settling in Boston and with Some money
as a fgundation to build upon, they accumulated
. wealt .

“ Years after, I came to America, and I was
poor; but your father, then studying the profes-
sion of medicine in a medical university, heard
of my condition, and sent me a handsome sum
with which to start in business.

“ That money was the comer-stone of my for-
tune, and I red well, and your father set-
tling in Bal imore, where I had established my-
splf, began there the practice of his "profes.
s on.

“ He was handsome, rich and very courtly. so
won many friends, and he made me his constant
companion, and placed in my hands considerable
money for investment.

“ One day he told me that he had saved the
life of a beautiful Christian girl, for while out
riding her horse had taken flight, and run away
through the streets and plunged of! the dock in-
‘to the harbor.

“ Your father saw the danger of the girl, u
on the drowning horse, and,  to t
water rescued her by tearing er s ' off, for it
had become entangled in the hoofs of the strug-
g ' animal. and swam to the shore With her.

“ r home wasa handsome one and her own,
for she had inherited it from her parents, and
dwelt there with her guardians, an old uncle
and aunt.

“ The news of the rescue spread through the
city, and mag a gallant beau envied your fath-
er for saving e hfe of La Belle Lindo, as they
called your mother.

“ Your father carried me u to call u n the
lady, and from the moment saw her loved
her and, pardon me for saying so, I hated your

at er.
I “ I saw that the maiden loved him, and yet I
dared hope to win her.

“ She was a Christian, I a Jew; yet my low
made me for et all else, even in friendship for
the man who done so much or me.

“ At length rumor had it that a Jew  a
Christian wereto be wed, and the town was Wild
with excitement, while I was maddened with

jealousy.
“ Forgetti in honor, my creed and my
friendship, I d 1 in my power to prevent the

mama e. ,

“ I legarned that the maiden’s inheritance was
conditional.

“If she married contrary to the wishes of her
uncle and aunt, the fortune left otherwise to her
was to .go to charity. .

“ i felt tlégt Shel,1 knowm that yghur fag?
Wasveryri , or isparen were en ,
and he had in rited their riches, would be will-
ing to sacrifice her inheritance and marry

“  this I“ was not mistaken, for, eavesdrop—

. x  one night, I confess my guilt with shame.

heard them (pledge their love, and the maiden
said she won] sacrifice her fortune for his love,
and he bade her do so.

“ Nay, more. she told him she would not place
him before the Hebrews in a false 1' ht, but
would adopt hip N11001:. that his c should
tagger creed, his people her people, his God her

I

“ y, Iwas maddened at this, and I deter-
minedtoplaymylastcard. ’

“ If hewas poor, Ihoped she would casthim

off.

“His wealth was in my hands, for be little
W of my treachery, made treacherous by
ova. i

‘ ‘ Iurged him toenter into an'investmeqt which
‘I knew would swamp him.

“He bade me do asIdeeined best,a.udIin-'
vested eve _dol VthatIcould get from bin:
by in his [unperty and otherwise, an

    



     
 

 

two months after the crash came, and he had but
his rofession to depend upon.

‘ ut, noble man that e was, believing that
I, too, lost hi all, he laughed over his mis-
fortimes and tri to cheer me up.

“ And, Alvan Judah, instead of deserting him,
your mother proved her worth by at once adopt-
ing  religion, becoming a J ewess and marry-

1m.
mg It was more than I could stand, and I left
Baltimore for England, and then went to Spain,
and dwelt some years, making money wherever
I went. .

“ In Spain I met the mother of my child.

“ I was drawn toward her by her likeness to
your mother, and she became my wife, and soon
after we came back to America and I settled in
New York.

“I wrote to Baltimore to find your father, for
the still, small voice of conscience upbraided me
and I wished to return to him his fortune of
which I had so deliberate] robbed him.

“ It was said that he h gone to Boston to live.

“ I wrote there, to find that he had lived in
that city but a short time and then gone to New
Orleans.

“ From New Orleans I traced him to Havana,
and there I lost all trace of him.

“He had moved about on account of his wife’s
health, it was said; but, try as I did, I could not
find him, and at last I gave it up, and makin
m will three years ago, the sum of which I has
ro bed him, and the interest thereon to the day
of in death I devoted to charity, leaving my
own ortune to my child here.

“ Now you, thgeghild of th?i inan I so sinned
agams' t a ore me, an owe to you in
ii 9, my: cfigd’s life, my fortune and all. y

“ You have heard my story, Alvan Judah, and
I have told in child, also, of in sin.

“ The sum rob your fa er of, for it was

no better than robbery, was just fifty thousand ’

dollars in all, and that was twenty-six years ago,
so that you get six per cent. interest on that sum
for that many years, making, with the princi-
1, just one hundred and tWenty-eight thousand
ollars that I owe you, and which is in my busi-
ness but shall be taken out at your order.
“ on are poor, young man, and I know it

and it gladdeiis my heart to do this in my old ,

age, to make this amend to the son of my old
friend, as I stand on the threshold of the grave.
“ But, tell me, do your . rents live?”

had failed to notice a red-

 

“No, Mr. Gaspar they th died in Mexico ”
was the sad repl of Alvan Judah. , l
“Alas! peace

to their ashes; but they never ‘ steps, and returning to his cab be

bent his head devoutly for an instant, and
then asked:
M: May I  the nature of your business,

Relapsinginto his broken English once more
he replied:
“ I vas a bawnproker, mine young fri’nt."

CHAPTER XXII.
rm: srv AND HIS MASTER.

Ir was with a happy heart that Doctor Aus-
tin Travers rode homeward from Oak Ridge
Farm after his acceptance by Cora.

He had remained to tea and soonafterhad
gone upon his rofemional rounds, to bid his
patients farewell: and to transfer his practice

uring his absence to a brother hysician.

It was late at night when he ounted froni
his horse before his own house.

It was a pleasant little cottage home, with a
well-producing, tho h small farm surrounding
it, and the doctor h been quite happy there in
his bachelor quarters.

Entering his room he called up his servant
and to pack a small trunk for his journey

for he was to start at an early hour the follow- ‘

morning.

t was shortly after sunrise when he arose,
and after a hearty breakfast with the Chicago
attorney, the two set out to drive to the nearest
railway station.

Arriv' there the train was taken for New
York, an , after a couple of days’ stop there to
attend t3 some buginescsIn the doctoral and his at-
torney opened or 'cago nei er of them
aware tha a man seemed to be deeply interest-
ed in their movements.

Unsuspicious of any one as he was, the doctor

man who had driven up to the station in the
coun , just after the arrival of the la er and
himse , and had bought a ticket also or New
York, getting into the same car with them.
When they took a cab at the depét to drive to
the hotel, the red-headed man had sprung into

another, thrust a bank-bill into the driver’s

hand. and said bluntly:

“ Follow thatcarriage, my man.”

e driver obeyed h' orders strictly, and
drew up at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, just as the ,
vehicle he had his eye on did the same.

Out spru Austin Travers and the attorney,
and registering their names they were at once
“9%.?me h a god

‘ mu one w 0 their

he‘dg the dri-

knew how 1 wronged them, so they did not die ver put him out at a certain number on Houston

cursm me.”

my mother, and always with
tion.

i
l

. i . .
“ My father often spoke of on, sir, as did also I As the vehicle drew up before the door, the ' '
kindn' ess and aifec- I man sprung out, and hastened into a hallway,

neither Lancing to the right nor left, and wear-

' “ Father made another fortune, and lost it in . ing the 00k of one who preferred to avoid at—
Mexico, and that left me poor; but I have a ro- i tracting attention.
fession, that of the law, which I have been op- '

- - n
ingmgetasmitm

Up to the third floor he went and inserting a.
pass-key into a door, he entered.

You shall have,for this homeofmineis  . Ashe did 80 I man Who was Within sprung
y: ,

home. Alvan Judah, and here
with my child and in lf, and
you must mana e my usiness.”

“ May I ask 9 nature of the business, air,
that you are so kind as towishmetomanage
for (mid J t dro hisH b ng-ue

eo ewa once p ’ e rewto
and replied in broken Engl‘iflfil-

“ I vas not known mineself in t’e pizziness, for-
Ihasvonmans to mana for me' but he not
honest vas, and if you v 1 close t’e pizziness up
in it’s next year, it vill pe pest, for {on em your
momsh, I gets mine, and ve has lengy to live
nut, for I wasvery rich; at you vas see t'e

izzmess vas not able. to c ose up rétty quick,
or it have last one year more, as ’9 loans vas

out for von year from “December.”

“I will do all in my. power, sir,'to aid you,=

and as on give me the money which you say is
' due. I accept it in the same spirit in

mg Ju
w ich it is offered, though I hardly think I.

should take more than the princ}pal. ”

“ Alvan Judah," and the old ew again spoke
in the Hebrew tongue:

“Your father gave me the money that was

the foundation of my present large fortune, and ,

would never acce t one cent in return.

“ I took from '
fifty thousand dollars, and you are to take the
interest on the amount with the rinc' ° but,
as I told you, in floating capital all tied up in
my business, an it will take just one year to
draw it out, so I beg you to for me for
that length of time, make your home with us,
and hen we close our 'p you have
your own fortune to invest as you pleaseand
can follow your profession if so you desire, or
still remain r of my estates.
, .“Now, Alvan udah, ou know just how we
stand to each other. an that I trust you most
thoroughly, and I ask you to pledge yourself to
do as I wish in this matter, for it will prove that
I am forgiven for the past.

“Will on?” -

The 01_ Israelite held forthalfis hand, and
grasping it firmly Alvan Judah d distinctl :

“ do for ve you all, Mr. Gaspar and I vs
the ledge t quash”. J '

“ 1 God 0 Abraham ,
mystifi- tb..d9~ .  

w!

     

   

 

or the present 

by false representations. '

 

lhleés'ymi. my eon." ,mgmshr

ou must live  quickly to his feet, and said almost savage

“Well, Red Harry, you nearly got a bulle

: into you, entering as you did without v‘ the
' signal, for I thought some of JohngiBomlgnd’s

secret-so
"diets here d I didn’ xpect '

“ i In t e to find
you in, mpggfor I’d have signaled; but I bring
some news I thou
compvdilalwn apd teth you about. "to I

‘ e ouwi itHai-i-y r needgood.
news, as matters went wrong with an

swered the one addressed as captain, :3 who’

was none other than the individual who had
been captured b Alvan Jndahin the Oak Ridge
Emmfisibgng .19 Wed. £31130" Keene: “W. ‘
reinise rm , crimmating‘

Ker biother, to mimomgm
“ You’ve had no luck then, cap’n?” asked Red

rHarry, whose face was as full of villainyas a

cocoanut of meat.

“Itold you howthataccursed Jew tamed

the tables on me, by his superior strength?” '

“ Yes, calp‘n.” ,
“ Well, felt sure he had picked up those
pars, which I could have
or, asItold you,andso tookthetraintohead
$11.11;)“, knowing he intended to walk to New
or .

“I gotacarriage and dmve out until I met 

liiiifiihandthencameback and laid myplans to.
im.

“But his accursed luck aided him, for I
mined him, and he sprung upon me with a
force that sent me to earth, but it pitched him

over an embankment ere he could check himself, 2 ' I

and I ’ avehicle ‘ . took tom
and ebblfgnngescaped me. W y heels,
find him since, as also have the police, for it

seems he had, just before meeting me, saved the ‘
old millionaire Jew, Emanuel Gaspar. from rob» 
bery, killed one of the. burglars and 

theother two.”
“ You don’t tell me so, i"
“ He did, indeed, and he 0.

him I do not know, for he does not show him- .
self, and it is thought by the ’
the gang took

.k

  

\
.k.

faced, red-headed ‘

rvice gang had me; but when did you ‘

ht was important enough to .

ttena small {01153 .

havebeenunableto' ’

dangerousman-
to attempt to nopein; butwhat hasbecome of :
licethatsome‘dfj
q ' mm W’:

  
   
    
   
 
   
  
 
     
  
  
    
  
    
    
  
  
    
    
   
    
  
  
    
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
    
  
   
    
       
       
     
       
         
     
   
    

   

    
    

    

4

384

' unfit“

‘1 is“. I“.:*3~" ' ' -~ '.."- 
y. ‘93. , “J? " ' -.

 

 

TileJeW D§?9tiY?-

 

 

 

gct'the apers.”

“It s, indeed; but what news have you,
Harry?”

“I’ll give it to you as I knows it, and you
can eividge of it’s Worth.”

tain and added:
“It must be important to bring you here,

on until I got back.”
C “ gar knowed ther young doctor up there,

a )

J Doctor Austin Travers?”

“ Yes, Ca .”

“ What 0 him?” .

“ He have fell heir to a big fortin.”

‘6 “Van?”

“ The old Doc. he come back, and the young
Doc asked Cora ter marry him and she consent-
ed, or heft-ego, did fer her, and the youn
have sta West to git his fortin, which ’es in
Chicago.”

“ I cannot see that this is very important. ”

“ You see his la
told him some lan there adj’inin’ the city had
riz in vally to a million dollars, so the Doc starts
out to see about it, and to sell enough
him some fifty thousand or so, whic . as I over—
heard him say, he would give to the old Doc to
inth for him, and he are to bring it back in
, ,“ Well?’ I

“ I thought it were so well, Cap, that I 'ist tuk

 
     
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
 
    
    
    
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
     
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
  
    
   

right here, they havin’ ut up at ther Fifth
Avenue Hotel for a short e.

“ You think there is something to bemade out

of this floung doctor ?”
. “ We we kin try.”

“ In w t way i”

“ Take the train with him to Chicago, watch
him 'thar, and git ther little pile of money he
gits thar. ’

y y Heaven, but you are level-headed, Red
Harry, excitedly cried the more gentlemanly-
looking of the two villains.
» “ I hain’t often called a durned fool, Ca .”

“ Well, we must get on our disguises an take
rooms at the Fifth Avenue, so that we start on
the same train with the doctor and his lawyer.”

“ That’s the game we have to play, On , and
there’s gold at t’other end of it,” was t e an-

swer.

An hour after, the two men, well disguised,
left their quarters, and the ne night ware fly-
ing rapile toward Chicago in t e same sleeping-
car With ustin Travers and his attorney, who
, little dreamed how they were being dogged by
two unscrupulous scoundrels.

CHAPTER XXIII.
snanownn. ‘

Docron AUSTIN Tssvnas arrived safely in
Chicago, and found quarters at a leadin hotel.

It took him some days to look over his llinois
propertzii find out the amount of taxes due, and

at e proper valuation of his lands which
so unexpectedly turned out to be of such
,, great value.

.There were acres of land here and there, in
various rts of the State, all of fair value, and
. snarketa Is at once, did hewish to sell, and these
,, alone would have brought him quite asnug for-

tune. . .

But those which were the back-bone of his in-
heritance lay almost within thelimits of the rap-
idlydgrowing city of Chica 0, while within the
bushess‘locality was a ma r of several acres
- that were wanted at once by purchasers, and at

a lag: sum. .
_‘ So gtlehad been (1 forthese lands ori -
. , sully, the father 0 Austin Travers, that e
 , tor had not even a know of
they were situated, nor an idea tha they
me ever, in his lifetime, be worth much, and
had not even kept u his taxes on them.
But, with the growt of the cigy that must
them, a legal firm had up their
, made a map of the rty, and
, e junior member of the out in
' snatch of the lucky owner. .
, ponhisarrival in Chicago, gone over
with. Austin Travers the papers that roved his
ownership to over, a million dollars 0 property,
 ' the lawyers
cash of certain lots
an bring i a?“ “11.3?” 31% “m” “3"?
W n s o e co r
something oversixtythousand  cash,

W a
v  ome. .

,. :Gmtly elated at his success. Austin 'h-avers
 his movie; and deposited it for safe-keep-
«min theban until the time of his departure
tor home should arrive.

   
  
  
      
 
    
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
   

‘nmmm‘l‘héht “Emmi thwwm‘ '° ‘°°

' an a n n 6 -room.

‘ *Ghiug there. heIJeheld a handsome young man,
, yeta trifle dissipated n his 1901:,

d  him in afriendIVwav

   
         
 
    

      

     
 

 

’ '_ f .
_- “11! this Austin Travers?”

' a, ;IamAnstinTravm” 
as me. see myself, doctor,“

he 1:9 .\
ail"; l L- , '  

9 "‘.:.;‘...,

  

ell, out with it,” impatiently said the cap— ‘

to bring 5

train with ther Doc and ther lawyer, an comed ~

ly ground rent that would be a ‘

gl‘Ashe returnedtohis rooms at the hotel, be.

t , .
“ Doubtless they did; but it’s a pity you didn’t Richard Denmead, and I bring to you a letter of
introduction from Miss Cora Keene, for I was 2 g,

i
i

l
l
v
I
l
.

after I left you there to spy out what was going 1

at the Oak Ridge Farm only a few days ago.”
The doctor’s face flushed with pleasure, and
he warmly shook hands with the man who had

l
l

so lately seen the one he loved best in the 3
‘ days, they concluded that some terrible evfl had

world.
Glancing at the letter, Austin Travers read:

“As Mr. Richard Denmead, an old friend of our
family goes to Chicago for a few days. and has
stopped at Oak Ridge to make a short visit. I give

e him this letter to you. knowing that the acquaint-

l

ance will he one of mutual pleasure, for Mr. Den-
mead is a. gentleman whom we all esteem most

I highly.“

l

I

f

l
l

l
l

 

  
 
  
 
  

Then followed more little gossip about home ‘

affairs, 3. report of Frank Keene’s continued im-
provement, and the statement that they expect-

that e must be sure and make them a visit

Doc » there.

There was no jealousy in Austin Travers’s
composition.
Cora had promised to marry him, and he be-

mead most kindly.

anecdote, a ilne talker, and possessed of ample . in one corner the initials “D. D.”

means.

Mr. Richard Denmead at once told the doctor
of the business which had
which was to look after some lumber interests
he held upon the shores of Lake Superior.

“ When do you anticipate returnmg?” he ask-
ed the doctor.

“ I expected to et ofl.’ to-morrow, but, as you
have arrived, I w lspend a few days longer, if
you think I would no be in your way.”

“By no means: and more, I wish you would
accompan me up on the lake, to where my lum-
ber lands is, for we can go by yacht.”
kil‘l‘dIndeed! I think I should en‘loy a sail of that

“Then I will go down t'o-day and charters.
yacht for a week 8 cruise.

“ I will store it with all that we need, geta
competent captain and crew, and I know we
will enjoy the run. ”

“You must allow me to share the expenses
with you.” ’

“By no means, for I would have to go by
yacht, or lumber schooner, if I went alone.”

“ Then at least allow me to send the stores we
need on board, or I shall not feel like going.”

“ lVell, we will compromise on that,” was the
response of Richard Denmead, and then, as
though a sudden thought had struck him, he

said:

“What do you sa , doctor, to kee n the
achtwfor a run to getroit, and go 01x1).i t nce
ome

“I am willing, for there is nothing to detain
me here.” ‘

“ Well, I will arrange with the yacht’s cap-
tain to take us there.

“ The fact is, I will have to collect consider-
able money in the lumber region, and I wish to
get home with it as soon as possible, for if I re-
turn through Chicago, I may be tempted to
squander it, as‘I have my failings, like other
men; but, going to Detroit, where I am not
known and thence on my way home, I can ar-
rive With my collections intact.”

“That would be the best under the circum-
stances, and it reminds me that I shall have a
trifle over sixty thousand dollars to carry back
with me. ” '

“ Get it in big bills and carry it with you, is
my way, for I have had drafts on banks which
have failed ere 1 could get the money out, and
in these days of failures do not trust them too

“emcee .s I m,

‘ on are on see t, so will
mine with me, as on do.”

“Yes, for, seel’ and Richard Denmead dis-
played a roll of greenbacks, the outer bill, as it
caught the eye 0 Doctor Travers, showing that
the face called for one thousand dollars.

Then, the two friends dined together, and after
the meal, while Richard Dehmead went off to
charter a yacht, Doctor Travers started out to
bu stores, among which were many luxuries
in uded for the cruise. ,

next afternoon a pretty schooner yacht,
of some thirty tons’ burden headed out into the

lake under a. fair breeze, and upon, her deck ‘

stood the two friends Austin Travers and Rich-
ard Denmead ,enjo g immensely the scenery
of the city and shares, as the craft sped out upon
the deep waters of Lake Michigan.

Upon the deck, besides the two referred to,
were three ‘persons, one of them bein a red-
headed, bodied man who sat at t helm,
and was evidently the skipper, and the others
were the crew, for the were forward, watchifi
Elbe behavior of the ttle craft as she glid

on . ‘

'l‘vgo weeks after the two seamen-had brought
the craft back into port and their story was a
strange one, for they said that they had run into
a lone] bor one, afternoon, for from any
habl on,andthe ski rand two passage“
had gone on there for a nut. ' :

  

' . Nightcsme'and they didnot

 

HI 0"
.. it

return. ,
 the captain and

3 lwfallen the
l headed back

l

 

Then one of the two sailors had landed and
me in search of them.
He had hunted all day and finding no trace of
the missing ones, returned to the yacht.

The following day his messmate went on a
search, with like result, and. after waitin five

pang, so they got up anchor and
or hicago.

it was a hard trip for the two men, but they
arrived in safety, and having heard one of the
passengers, whom his companions called Doctor,
refer to a law firm in the cit as his attorneys,
the two men went to their 0 cc and told their
strange story.

The lawyers were astounded, for Austin Tra—

‘ vers had not spoken to them of making such a.
: voya e, and they at once had the two sailors ar-
ed to o to New York city before very long, so l

l
|
l

res suspecting foul play.
Theii one of the firm took the yacht with a.

i new crew, and carrying the men along, told

er come out artor him: and ; lieved her, and so he greeted Mr. Richard Den- 3

them to return to the spot indicated as the place
where they had last seen the skipper and his pas-
sen rs.

is they did, and landing, a thorou h search

_ l was made, but the only result was to nd a silk
He found the young man a genial soul, full of l handkerchief having blood-stains u n it, and

ndsomely

3- embroidered.
I

l

 

  

Returning to Chicago, the mysterious 

brought him West, : pearance was made public, and Doctor Keene,

as the friend of Austin Travers, was at once com-
municated with, and all the facts of the case
placed before him, while large rewards were of-
ered for knowledge of the missing party.
But weeks glided away, and not one word
came of the mysterious disappearance of the
yacht’s skipper and his two passengers.

CHAPTER XXIV.
A PAWNBROKER BY PROXY.

WHEN the Jew millionaire made known to
Alvan Judah the nature of his business, it was
certainlya surprise to the aristocratic young
Hebrew, who, at the least, hadsuspected Emanu- .
el Gas rof being a banker.

He not expected that the di fled old
gentleman belon to that much-a used but ‘
very necessary c of business men, who, if
they do charge a large price for loans, save many
a family from going ungry, and others from
de , for jewelry, bric-a-brac, odds and ends,
an other extravagances indulged in with a
plethoric t-book, come in handy to “ make
the t b011,” when fortune smiles no longer.

A van Judah knew, as others know, that
pawnbrokers were not naturally heartless, and
that many an act of charity was daily done by
them toward their, in many cases, poverty-
stricken patrons.

But he had ambition to win a name as a law-

er, not in a. business way, and, if driven to the
attcr from necessi , he regretted that he would
have to be thrown or a year into daily contact
with abject misery he could do little to allevi-

ate. ‘

But he had given Emanuel his
word, and he would not  pledged

He would continue his studies, the schooling
he received behind a paWnbroker’s counter ;
would teach him much of human nature, that
would be useful to him in the future.

So, in to the assertionof Emanuel Gas»
par, that he was a pawnbroker, Alvan Judah re-

plied.

“ I will do in duty, sir, by you, as [I would by
myself, and ' be a your service whenever you
wish me to commence e work.”

“Mine fri’nt, I knows dat you vill pe a goot
mans for t’e pizziness; but I van vaut you only
to manage for me.

“ Dat vas I vas to pe a bawnproker py proxy,
owns. -mm

was ree s ops, von vas in
von vas down-town, and von vas up-towns, and
dey vas pay me vell. _ '

‘ I vas haf at t’e blaces mans to do t’e pizzi-
ness, put you vas to pe t’e managers for me and
yoursel you was see. '

“ Now at us drop pizziness and haf some din-
ner right ava quick, for you vas in your own
home now 0 fri’nt.” , .

Alvan ludah thanked the old Jew for his
kindness, and followed a servant to his room,
that he might make his toilet for dinner. *

But his toilet was easily made, as" his worldly
possessionswere upon his back, and his clothes
were seedy. «

But he fmshened himself up as best he could,
and they descended to the grand parlors, which

Were W in honor of his presence, and
where he Murielle sin 11g. .

Her voice was rich and f o pathos, and he
felt touched by it when he thought of the sudden
change in his fortunes which a few hours had

 

brought, and remembered how he had, in almost ‘- '

despair and theposseasor of but five dollars in
the world, been on his way to the depOt to start
back to the little village where he had ,so- nearl

lost his llfeu the gallows, and seek out his
good friend, 0rd Ioring of. the New Eng-
nd Aims, and ask him to give him work. ' .

. He had utterly failed in New 'York to into
law ofllces as a copyist,

made barely kept him in food and.
It was a year of hard times,

4' 'I’ ,.«' ."J’.'Ii-$"';.:£!.

       

 

 

and'thelittleglg‘hsd .  , ‘

   
   
     

The Jew Detective.

15

 

 

 

through the land, banks were failing, rich men
went down beneath the crash of misfortunes,
and but for that poor woman, robbed of her two
dollars by a thief, and staggering against the
iron railing for support, Alvan J udah‘s lot 1
mi ht have been a sad one indeed.

n one instant almost recognized by Murielle 
Gaspar, he had been snatched from the dregs of
poverty and despair, to fortune and hope.

It was no wonder then that he stopped in the
hallway outside the parlor door, whi e his lips
quivered with emotion, and gained control of
himself are he entered the superbly furnished ‘
rooms, with their luxur , paintings and stat— ,

nary, and brightest of al the brilliantly beauti- I
ful irl, mistress of all, seated at the piano.

S 6 had saved him, as it were and it made '
her heart glad to feel that she had done so, and ‘
in her joy, like a happy bird, she poured forth ‘
her voice in song.

Rising from the piano as the Jew entered,
Murielle took his arm and led him into the
library, where her father awaited them.

Then the three atljoumed t0 the dining-room,
where the late dinner was discussed With the
greater relish, and, in spite of his seedy clothes
and verty, both the old Hebrew and his ‘
daug ter were charmed by the refinement of
niamier and ready conversational powers of i
their guest, and it was late before Alvan Judah ;
sou ht his room to retire. . ,i

T en, with the freezing Winds howling about ,
the massive house, and the sleet dashing against ;
the windows, he sunk to rest in a softer couch 3
than he had known for many a long nighti
before. I

Awakin at an early hour as was his wont, l
Alvan Ju h dressed himself leisurely, glancing 3
out the while at the icicle-hung trees and snow- i
clad earth, with the bright sunlight causing all
to shine like burnished silver.

Descendin to the library he was told by the
butler that 1'. Gas and Miss Murielle break- ,
fasted at nine o’cloc , and it yet lacked an hour ‘
to that time.

The butler brou ht him the morning papers
however, wished  a Merry Christmas, an
Alvan Judah sat down before a blazing fire to
read the news.

Suddenly he started and turned pale as his
eyes fell upon something in the paper he was
reading.

It was headed:

“THE SUICIDE or AN EMINENT MAN!”

The very next lines that followed had told him
who that eminent man was that had been driven
to take his own life.

It told him also a strange bit of news of which
he had been ignorant regarding the physician
and his family.

With a heart that throbbed with emotion the
young Jew read the story of the suicide, and it i
ran as tollows:

“Doctor Hiram Keene. of Our city, and until his
retirement from practice some fyears a 0. a man
who stood at the head of the pro ession, sat night
took his own life, at the humble home where he
moved two months ago. after the loss of his very ‘
large fortune. through speculation,some said. while
others assert, that seem to know stI, that it was
swept away by the endeavor to extricate some dear
friend from trouble.

“ so this a! it may, it is certain that Doctor Keene
was broken-hearted at seeing his fertune depart ,
from him in his old age. and strove hard to retain
his farm in New England, where he was want to go
with his famil every summer.

“But this e ort was also fruitless. and word be-
ing taken to the doctor by his attorney that the old
homestead must also go. he seemed almost over-
come, but soon after retired to his room, and,with
a poison, the deadly effects of which he but too
wfell knew, he put an end to his long and valuable
ii 0.

“Going to call her father to tea, his daughter
found him dead, and lying on a table near was a let-
ter, bidding his children farewen .nd leaving “d
regrets that his act had brought t em such an un- !
ban Christmas.

" iss Keene. though vei'v young. In Ilady of great
force of character. and it had been her noble exam-
ple and cheery nature that had kept the doctor un
since his loss of fortune. and his son, who bu been
inclined to a wild life, from indulging in all kinds of
dissipation, u runm : has it.

“ iss Keene. be: friends say. became the flancée
at the wish of her father. of the young physician,
Doctor Austin Travers, who, discowrlntr that lands
left him by his father near Chicago, had suddenly
made him a millionaire, went West to take poses-
sion of his fortune, and so mysteriously disap-
pfiaared from sight several days after his arrival

ere.

" Our readers doubtless remember the excitement
caused at the time, by the disappearance of the
VOUBR doctor, who, it seems, joined a stranger. one
Richard Denmead, upon a yachting cruise Onihe
lakes. Ind landing with his friend and the sailing-
:zmfiir, at a lonely part of the shore, was never seen

“The crew returned with the yacht. after some
dlys Stay. and the doctor‘s attorneys instituted a
moat tborough search, but no trace of the missing
00,98 could be found. -

t M n W“ known thatDnctorTravers had drawn
on (paths bank the large sum of sixt -tbree thou-
“i‘t‘h 15"“an large bills. and carriedy this fortune
gamma“ vI‘llhis cruise. and a silk handkeiichlef.
comer the mining, and having embroidered it one

II 5 D. D.’

was found no" ,here an My had landed, f0“l

 

‘ erty kept me bac , and, too

i the amount.

play was suspected, though the detectives could get
no other clew that they were able to trace to a stic—
Cessful solution of the mystery though the theory

i of one secret service man was that the physician

had been tracked from his home b some one who
knew why he went to Chicago. an that the strange
yachtsmen who disappeared with him, were not his
friends, but his foes, and robbers.

"This blow was a heavy one upon Miss Keene.
followed as it was by the loss of her fortune. and
now the bitterest stroke of all, her father‘s suicide
must indeed how her down with dce est grief, and
she has the sympathy of all in her dire afflictions.“

Such was the article that met the eyes of A1-
van Judah, that bright Christmas morning when

‘ ha piness had come into his own heart.

t told him a stran e stor of what had befal-

; len the brave girl w 0 bill confessed that she
had killed the man in the woodland, and thereby 1

saved him from the gallows.
It told him that the mysterious “D. D.” still
figured in deeds of outlawr , and that now Cora

‘ Keene was poor and frien less, and in need of 3
sym

thy and aid.

“ oble girl, she shall not want while I have
it in my
rest unt

“ I have so lon ed to act before, but my pov-

I knew not that all this had .
“ But now it is different, for Alvan Judah is
no longer a pauper.”
And he arose and paced to and fro in deep
thought, until the entrance of Murielle put an
end to his reflections.

CHAPTER XXV.
iN ms: DEPTHS or DESPAIR.

IN an humble home of New York city, sittin
close to a wood fire, was a feminine form, cla
in deep black.

The head was bowed upon her arms, which
rested u n a small stand near her, and a
wealth 0 golden hair fell in ringlets over her
shoulders.

The room was poorly furnished, but every-
thing about it was neat, and there was a home
look over all.

The one so bowed in silent grief suddenly
raised her head and the beautiful face of Cora

: Keene was revealed.

\Vhite, tear-stained and wretched was that
face, its suffering almost marring its beaut ,
and the mouth had grown almost stern in t e
few months that had ‘ since last the reader
beheld her at Oak Bi ge Farm.

Now she was alone in the humble little cottage
to which they had come, the father and his two
children, after their break-down of fortune.

One week before, upon the day after Christ-
mas, she had buried her father, and she was
daily expecting the bill of funeral expenses,
which she knew would take all the money she
had left, plain as had been the last sad rites
which she was able to give to the father she had
loved so well, and who had committed suicide
and left her to battle with the world, with only
her willful, selfish and wild brother.

Suddenly a ring came at the door, and gomg
to answer it, two letters were handed to her.

The one had a funereal look, for it had a hearse
upon the envelo .

“The undert er’s bill,” muttered poor Cora,
and she broke it open with trembling fingers to
note the amount.

It was a bill and receipted, while a line said:

“ Dun Missz—Your bill, as you re uested. I send
you on this date: but receipt t in fit I as a gentle~
man, who did not give his name, called in and paid
Respectfully,

"Ssxrou Giuvss."

“ A entleman called in and paid the bill?

“ “IE0 can it have been?

“ Ahl it must have been Frank who— No,
no, I cannot believe that he would pay father’s
funeral expenses with money won at the gaming-
table.

“ And besides, Mr. Graves knows Frank, so
who could it have been?

“ I shallgo down and see if I cannot find out,
for this must not be.”

Then she broke open the seal of the other letr
ter and read the contents with increased sur-
parise, while a bank check fluttered out into her

The letter was short, but to the point, for it
read-

“ Will Miss Keene allow a debtor to y an ac-
count which should have been settled be ore, by in-
closing a check for five hundred dollars."

“ No name to this! how strange; and it is a
bank check, so I do not know the sender.

“ It_ must be some one who owed my father,
and his conscience now prompts him to send this
mone to me.

“ _ ell, half. of it is Frank’s, though I dislike
to give it to him, for if I keep it we can live for
months on this sum, while my poor brother may
squander his share in a night.

“ Ah,_mel if I cannot get pupils soon I will
need this money, and I do not wish to begin to
sell the jewelry I have left, for all I did not care
to keep as souvenirs I allowed father and Frank

to have the use of and they wned them, for
by pawning anything, instead); selling it out-

\.'- ‘i'i

power to aid her. and more, I will not :’
i I have cleared up the mystery sur- Y,
i rounding her life and have hunted down D. D.

poor to buy a paper ‘
appened

y ,,_ ._
1 right, they say you can get the articles back

a ain— Ah! there comes brother, now.”
The door came to with a bang. a quick ste )
was heard in the narrow hallway, and Frank
. Keene entered the room.
He was muflied up warmly, wore the best of
' clothes, a diamond sparkled in his neck-scarf as
1 he threw off his overcoat with its sealskin collar
and cuffs, and he looked little like a )r youth.

Tossing his sealskin cap upon the little table,
he drew the lounge up before the fire, and throw-
ing himself upon it ina half-reclining way, be
said, abruptly:

“ “'ell, Cora, what news?”

He looked very handsome as he lolled there at
ease, and showed no trace of the severe injuries
which he had received.

, “Oh, Frank, you come to a poor place for
3 news: and yet I have news for you,“ she added
quickly:

“No funeral stories, sis, if you love me, for
what with the loss of our fortune, Doctor 'l‘rav~
ers’s mysterious disappearance, and father’s
death, I am getting as nervous as an old maid.”

“Your late hours and dissipation make you
nervous, brother,” sadly said Cora.

l “ Don’t preach, sis, but tell me the news you
have for me.”

“ \‘i‘ell, I told the undertaker to send his bill
in to-day, and it came, but receipted, for some
unknown friend has gone in and paid it."

“Heaven bless the unknown friend, sis, for
now the money you had to pay that sombtr old
grgefigger you can lend me to trv mv luck
W1

“ \Vé must live, Ffank.”

“ I have no idea of dying. Corn, and for that
reason wish a stake to win more money with.”

“ I would not eat a morsel of food you bought
with money won over the gaming-table, bro-
ther ” firmly said Cora.

“ 'ou are foolish, sis.”

“From your standpoint. yes; but I have some-
thin else which I feel compelled to tell you."

“ ut with it, sis.” ‘

“ I received a letter inclosing a bank-draft for
five hundred dollars, sent by some one who
without doubt owed that sum to father, and,
feeling sorry for us, has paid the debt.”

. hank Keene was upon his feet now, and has-
tily readin the letter, he asked his sister for the
draft, whic she gave to him with the remark:

“Half of it is yours, Frank though I wish
you would let me keep it all for household ex-
penses.”

“It’s genuine, sis that is certain, and it’s a
godsend; but I need my share, and will get it.
cashed and give you the balance.”

“Will you try at the bank to trace the
sender?”

LL‘V'h ’t”

“Wel , if it should be a gift of charity, I wish
to know to whom I can repay it, should it ever
bein my wer to do so.”

“All right, sis, I’ll see if I can find out for
you, and now, if you will just put our name on
the back of this pa r, I’ll be 0 , for I came
honlile to say I won (1 not be up to dinnerw-
m'g t.’

“ Must I again be alone, brother?”

“I hate to leave you, sister, but then I am
working hard to get a situation. as you know,
and I must meet the gentlemen I wish to see and
get them to engage me.

“ There, that makes this draft good, and I will
brin you the balance.

“ cod-night, sis- But one minute, for I wish
a‘ little change, so give me some to ride down—
town with.”

Cora handed out five dollars, and the selfish

outh, who had only come home to beg money

rom his sister, who, with all his faults, idolized
him, hastily drew on his overcoat and left the
house. 0 -

Turning the first corner he came to, he found
, there awaiting him a cab, in which he had driven
up home, and entering it, called out:

“Drive down-town with all haste, my man,
for I wish to catch a bank before it closes.”

CHAPTER XXVI.
A scan is A “amuse BELL.”

h was late upon the night followin the day,
when Cora Keene is seen in her hum 1e home,
with an aching heart, a them in her side from
lief brother’s wild life, and yet brave and hope-

u .

The scene now presented to the reader is a
gorgeous one, for it is a suite of rooms in an
uptown resort called by courtesy the “ Sports-
man’s Paradise.” '

In reality it is a gambling hell, one of those
glittering retreats where men are nightly ruined,
and over the door of which might well be en-
graved the motto:

_“ He that entereth here
Leaveth hope behind."

The one in question was the most fashionable
resort of this kind in the great metropolis.

It was situated within a stone’s throw of the
residences of the elite, and the shadow of a tall
church spire fell upon its roof.

 

The house was a lar e one, the first floor be-
ing used as café an bar, the second floor

v~

    

sanguine—ta..- D's. 5-,; ,: $4 541.. 4,4"; $24: _ a,

 

 

“thestran rcontinu

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,eledit. ' ’1

   

16

 

The Jew Detective.

 

 

with its four rooms thrown into one was the
Salon de “ Chance,” and above were the sleep-
ing rooms of the restless gamblers who were
the leading spirits of this gorgeous abode.

Within the gambling saloon, at the time the
reader enters it, was a oun nmn at one of the
roulette tables engaged, in tting heavily and
wiimin steadily.

By his side were stacks of red white and blue
ivory “chips,” which repremn moneg, and
mdgin from the quantityathere were p ed up

fore , he had won a 1' sum.

It was storming hard wit out, and this had
Erevented many from coming, so that the rooms

eld but few, while, the hour being late, many
had already de ted.

Perhaps a ozen players were present, and
these were busily engaged in fighting for for-
glnle at the fam, roulette, and vingt-et-un

es
The mung man referred to had not taken oi!
either 's heavy overcoat or sealskin ca , and
stood with bowed head over the table, as t ough
he wished to avoid attention.

It was no wonder that he sou ht to screen
himself from view, because it was rank Keene,
and he was playing desperately at a gambling
hell ere his suicidal father iatbgrown cold in his
grave, and while his mourning sister watched
and waited at home for him. -

The money he had brought there was the
bank-draft his sister had given him, and which
he had arrived at the bank too late to cash.

The banker at the Sportsman’s Paradise had
given Frank Keene fifty dollars’ worth of chi ,
and held the draft, which lay upon the table y

.his side, along with a pile of money.

“You are winning largely to—night, Frank,”
said a voun man who just then advanced to-
ward the ta 10, having lost his money over at
the taro-bank.

Frank Keene glanced under his brows at the
speaker and recognizing one of his associates,
said in a low tone: |

“Hello. Scott, how are you?

“ Yes, I am Winning, as I always do, when I
am not cheated.”

The banker heard the reply, and remarked,
quickly:

“ You have, unfortuname for yourself, lost a
great deal of men in here, Mr. Keene; but I

ope you do not fee that you have been cheated,

for though this is a gambling hell, it allows 0:}?

:iuare games, as all our patrons will readily -
t

“ I will see how it goes with me to-night, and
then answer whether it is a uare game, for
there are tricks in the roulette w eel now aswell
as at‘ fare,” was the remark of Frank Keene,
whose face was flushed with wine.

The banker made no ly, and just then a

I antleman walked up to t table and stood

on.
He acre a cloak and slouch hat, was tell,

‘ erect and had a dark, earnest face.

- Taki‘gg off his cloak, he threw it across his’
, holding his hat in his hand he gazed

with seeming interest upon the me.

“ Will tylvaou play, sir?” asked t e banker.

“ No, t nk on,” was the re ly, and the game
went on until Keene ha

nd dollars.

\ “ You have been so fortunate, sir, I would ad-
vise you no to test your luck further.”

It was t e stranger who spoke, and Frank
Keene glanced at him almost savagely as he re-

won an even five

“ I generally use my own will, sir, in all per—
taining to myself. ” '

“As you please, sir "was the cool reply, and

ed to gaze on the game with
the same nterest as before.

“Ha! he loses!” cried the stran , in smoth-
ered tones, as the tide of fortune tu ed against
FrankKeene, and he lost a bet of five hundred
dollars on one whirl of the wheel.

Again he 'lost, and again, until he grew pale

’ r and nervous.

“Luck has gone against you, Mr. Keene, so
on had better not play more to-nigh ,” said the

ker. , I

“ I need no advice, sir,” was the mth's
use, and he continued to p his
hi e the banker said coldly:

“ en if you lose do not accuse the house of
cheatin you, for you had a chance to quit just
now a eavy winner had you taken that gen-
tleman’s advice," and he referred to the stran-

gGFrank Keene muttered an imprecation and
continued to play, and also to  steadily‘and

sure] .
.- Atxength his pile of chi diminished, and the
youth, now'strangely exci , cried:

“ Give me the balance on my draft. Barksdale.”

“ No, Mr. Keene: I gave you fifty upon it and

' _ cannot cash it entire.” ‘

' “ Do you”mean to say that I would give you

, badgaperi ,
‘ '. “ h, no, only I will not take chances on
drafts”

“ B . Heaven, man, on have cheated me and

‘ I now nsult nie, and 'I have your life!”

The infuriated (“youth fairly shrieked the

_,t. l

sohsdretvapidolandlbvu

j

 

Quick as a flash the stranger knocked the wea-

gon up and the bullet shattered a crystal chan—

elier bringing down the fragments of glass in
a perfect rain.

At the same moment the bler banker had
drawn a weapon in self-de ease, and his istol
was also struck up by the stranger, an the
bullet went crashing into the frescoed ceiling.

“Hold, sir! Would you kill the boy and
bring the police upon your lace?” cried the
str er, stern] , and the er said, coolly:

“ on are rig t, sir; but take him away from
here.”

“ Give me your pistol, lease?” said the stran-
ger to Frank, who, ins of complying, seemed
about to use it a ain, when it was seized and
torn from his han with a strength that showed
him that, young athlete though he was, he had
met his master.

“Now/Mr. Keene, you must come with me,

sir,” sternly said the stranger, and Frank Keene '

seemed to cower beneath his’gaze, and said:
:: il‘hat mgln ha; mg (lllraft. ” 11
gave 'm ty 0 ars upon it, sir, p0 'tely
returned the banker.

“Here is your money, sir, so pray give me
the draft,” and the stranger handed out the
money.

Takin the draft he put it in his pocket, and
then sai firmly:

“”Come, Mr. Keene, you must go home with
me.

The youth seemed now wholly broken in spirit,
and ap to realize his murderous act so he
walke< away with the stranger, who suddenly
turned and said: , :

“Mr. Banker name the damage done to your
house and I wi pay it, sir. ”

“ Oh, let that go, for it mi ht have been worse
for both that boy and myse 1', but for you, sir,
and I thank you for my ife, and also for pre-
ventin me from killin that mad fool.

“N , no, sir, let the ma 6 o to profit and
loss, and consider Ned Bar 19 your friend
into Kingdom Come. "

The stranger smiled and bowod, and hastened
out of the room with Frank, Keene, who now
made no resistance, and acted as though com~
pletely dazed by what had occurred.

Reachingntsshe street the stranger called a hack
and ve t address to which to drive.

“ ow did you know my number?” asked
Keene, in slow tone.

“ The late afflictions you have met with made
your address public, Mr. Keene," was the quiet

response. .

‘ And you also know me?”

(‘ es sir. ,9

“ I do not remember to have seen you before.”

“ No, we never met before to-night,” and af-
ter this remark the two were silent until the car-
riage drew up in front of the little cottage house
situated in a cross street far u town.

“ Here I will leave you Mr.
give you your draft, an , as your sister’s name
11:) uppn the back of it, beg that you give it to

er.

“But I owe you fifty dollars of it, so, if you
can, 've me the balance."

“ 0 matter about the little debt, sir, for that
will come ri ht some e.”

“ You wi give me your name and address,
though?”

“ No, for it is of no interest, Mr. Keene; good-
night,’ and the stranger sprung back into thz
carriage which rolled ra idly away just as th

eene, and let me

in it.

A street-lamp burned right before the door,
and, waiting up for her brother, Cora had not
on] seen his arrival, but had overheard all that
h been said. .,

Hastening to'throw a wrap on she ran to the
door but arrived too late. \

“lBrother stop that carriage!” she cried, ea-
ger y. -

But Frank was stubborn, and made no efi'ort
to do so, and the vehicle turned the next corner
and disappeared from sight, While Frank en-
tered the house and threw himself upon the

10 e. ,

Wrother, that gentleman has aided you in
some trouble tonight I feel confident, and you
owe him mone . for heard what was said.

“ He refu to give you his name-—”

“Yes; but he knew mine and my number,”
growled Frank. .

“ And‘I know his; es and I know now who
4 our kind unknown f end is. ”

:2You 90, ch?” sneered Frank.

“ Who is he. ma I ask?” ' ’

“ Alvan Judah, he Jew whom my act once so
nearly caused to die on the gallows,” was the
lbw response of Cora, and her voice quivered.
with emotion as she spoke. \ ,

 

CHAPTER XXV II.
AN om) an’s LUCK.

Ir Frank Keene is supposed by the reader to
have profited by his sad experience in the Sports-
man’s Paradise, he is mistaken, for that unwor-
th youth seemed to be under an evil spell

 

    

. -v, e
’\ ’1'1‘4,.V,,‘..‘,y

Lmh could be broken only by some fearful ca-

 

   

door was thrown open an Cora Keene appeared ‘

He made u his mind, of course, that he would
not drinkan gamble more, and repentant for
l the time being, made his lovmg sister Very hap-
py by so telling her.

He told her of the scene in the gambling-
rooms, just as it had occurred, and Cora lis-
tenéad with the deepest interest to all that he
an: .

f‘ Brother, when Judah the Jew, was under
. trial for his life he was a very poor man; now,
| from what you tell me of him, he must be rich,

and I ’believe that be it is who has sent us this

“ I will take it to the bank in the morning, sis,
and trace it,” said Frank.

“We must find him and pay the debt back,
when we can.
i “B going to the undertaker you can have
him escribe the gentleman who d that bill,
and if we find that it was Mr. udah, then we

 

 

you tonight, thou h why he should be in that
gambling-saloon, cannot understand.”

“He was not playing, sis, and merelystood
by looking on.

“He prevented me from the banker,
and I thank him for it, and then kept Barks-
dale from shootin me, and I owe him m life.

“ Then he paid arksdale the fifty he ad-
vanced me upon the draft, and drove me home.

“He wrenched the pistol from me as readily
as though I had been a child, and he seems to
have the stren h of a giant.

“ I don’t 6 Jews but I rather like that
splendid fellow, and,  he’s rich, would like to
know him well,” was the selfish ending of Frank
Keene’s remark.

“ For shame, brother, to so. that.

“ If he was poor, and I dservehim then I
would rather lmow him; but, as it is, I must
find him to return this draft and the we
owe him, for we do not need it just now, and I
ho to get some painting orders soon.”

said no more, but rose and went to his

room.

In the morning he took the draft and went
down-town, to trace out the sender of it.

By diligent investigation he found that it was
Alvan Judah, and more, the description given by
the undertaker, of the gentleman who had called
and settled the bill of Doctor Keene’s funeral
gpelnses, exactly tallied with the appearance of

e ' ew.

With the money in his hands, Frank Keene
became

reckless, and :

“ Sis kept the Jew fro , so he on ht
to pay something for his life what he
done is little enough, for I’ll guarantee he is‘
rich for whoever saw one of his race that was
reali poor?

“ mi ht also, and I believe I will, winJarge-
ly, and t en sis will sure to or 've me.

“But I dare not go to the Paraglise' Wm, af-
ter 3y trouble with Barksdale, so I k up
ano er p . "

“There is the Crystal Palace open to me, so
I’ll iilust write sis a note as I am detained,
tell erlcannottracethe ,andthengoto
Delmonioo’s to dinner and end up with a game
at the Crystal.”

The note was accordingly dispatched, the din-
nor was eaten, in com with a kindred spirit.
Barney Scott. one, of is timatanaend then the
two, both under the influence of , ad ourned
to the “ Palace 3’ a gambling he of less
pretentious 1e than the Sportsman’s Paradise.

Going to a aro-table Keene an to
pla , buying at first but twenty dollars’ worth
of ‘c i ,” while Barney S_cott, borrowing the
mone rom his spend hrift companion also

a purchase of a hke number of very
representatives of bank-notes.

As the game began, an- old man, shufilin his
feet along the t, as though was to 1
upon him, an the gambling con, and ap-
mhlng the table, and addressing the dealer,

“give to me some chips, if you vas  so
The old man was a Jew, and his gray hair in

e such a place: but he seemed to have
come there for such rt as he could get out of

afguiigling game, or win perhaps from a love I
o

‘ How man , sir?” asked the dealer.

“ Call it,

amount upon
and nglaced his ‘bet upon difierent cards
Fra Keene and his friend. ,
The result was that the old Jew won and the
two young men lost.
Again be game was played, the Jew once
more winning, and Keene and, his friend losing.
Several more games followed with a like re
suit, and seeing his -‘
Keene turned angrily a the old man and said:
“ Say, old Solomon, you are stealing my luck
from me.” I
“l vas steal noddings. mine fri’nt, for I vas
not pla your cards,” was the answer, and the
Jewdi not raise his e es from the table,
“ Play first then, I’ll follow on. so as to
see the result,” haughtil said Fran Keene. ,
The Jew placed his ch ps upon two cards, and
\ Frank Keene and Barney Scott, after some he:
itation, selected four others.

\

‘ .
. an 4) .

 

are sure that he also sent this draft, and aided ‘

gowwmnd he threw that '
tab , raked over his chips, ‘

e diminishing Frank

 

?


 

w- .

7‘
ti
‘u’
'i
?

 

A

look at on lose your monish, y

‘ The Jew Detective.

1.?

 

 

The dealer dealt quietly to the end, and the
Jew had won. thegoung men had lost.

“ Play again. 01 lsaacs,” cried Frank Keene,
and the Jew, paying no attention to the insult-
ing command, quietly placed  bets.

‘ Now we have the bank ” said the youth, and
he and Barne Scott p their chips upon the
same cards w 'ch the Jew had covered.

The dealer drew out the cards, in his cool,
quiet way, and the players failed to win, the
bank raking in the money. _ ‘

Again the Jew played and again his betswere
duplicated by the yout , an With a hke re-
sult.

“Tryhim again, Frank, for there is luck in
odd numbers,” said Barney Scott, and for the
third time the two youths followed suit, and
again were the lOSers.

Mutterin an imprecation through his shut
teeth, Fran Keene said:

“Old graybeard, you have bewitched our
luck; but we will play against your bets now.”

This they did, and the Jew won they lost.

And so it went on, the wonderful luck of the
Jew keeping fast to him, excep ' when the
youths co pered his bets, and Frank eene losing
steadily, or Barney Scott was unable to borrow

anything more from his friend, who preferred to

lose his own money.

“ Curse you, Jew, you have destroyed in
luck, and I have to throw \II‘P the s nge, for
have no more money,” said rank eene.

“ Your credit is , Mr. Keene, if you care
to write out an I O ,” said the dealer.

“ Thank you, Mr. Fenton, I will get five hun-
dred from you on my paper for a couple of days,”
said Frank, With assumed indifference.

“ It must be two days, sir, if you say so, for I
am prompt in such matters, responded the

er.

The I O U was given and. the game went on,
the old Jew as before winning, the youth losing
until his money was gone.

“ I will lay no more if you allow that Jew to
bet,” said rank Keene, a ' y.

" The table is free to all, r. Keene ” said the
dealer reprovingly, while the Jew sai :

“I vas vin al dat I vish,soIvas stayand

oong mans.”

“ W you give me another chance, Fentoni’

“ Yes; for another IO U.”

“ Make it for ten days. "

“ Two days, with one day grace, is my limit.”

“ All right; it will cramp me, but I can man-
age it if I lose."

And an hour after Frank Keene and Barney
Scott left the gamb ing-saloon, the former hav~
in lost the amoun ot’ the draft and being in
de t one thousand dollars to a man who he well
knew would be merciless to him in regard to the
payment of the money. '

‘MyGodl what will you do, Frank?” asked
Barney Scott.

“M sister has some diamonds left, and she
must elp me out,” was the heartlem reply, and
as the words were uttered the old Jew stepped
up from the shadow of the doorway, where he
“33‘”? “1 “W”??? W?” me“

I! owe my - 0 cu, accursed
Jew, and thus I punish you.” y

And Frank Keeneraised his handto re the
Jew a ringing slap in the‘ face, when his hand
was suddenly grasped as though in an ' vise,
and, as Barney Scott rung forward to inter-
fere, he received a mi blow in the face that
sent him flat upon his back upon the pave-

CHAPTER XXVIII.
A THREAT.

Nam were two youths more mistaken, than
were Frank Keene and Berna Scott in the Tar-
tar they had caught in the ol Jew.

In his  found himself powerless to
move, w ile rney Scott crawled out of reach
01' his foot on his hands and knees, and then

nod himwlf up ready for flight, if it
prove necessa1'Y-

“Help, young mans, I vas a detective,and I
knom you veil and has in eyes on you, gape-
ilones quick i” cried he old Jew, and my-
ing his companion in misfortune in the hands of

the enem .
“Mr. eene, Ivasgo' to ve youaleetle
e t vrom a fri’nt,”

“3“”: “’33 5 '“‘.,...’°i.°°.. an
sai t 60 , ew ' earn .

“ I do notackriowled‘gles‘n friencghlp between
us old man,” was the pu ent response.

‘ May pe that you vas change your mind; put
an how, on vi‘lil hiar $031 I hasdto  ifldpri-
va or'ouon’it' sai ' o
foreh boch court. ’ pa mg po.

“ V’ot ygu say, yoong mans?”
Frank eene turned pale at this threat, and

’- said with as much ease as he could command:

a “ Well what have you to say?”

“I haf to say. mine fri’nt, dat ou vas 'v'I
your fader mooch troubles, and he is o y a
short time dead py his own hands, and yet you
vas go to gambling-blame and lose monish dot
vas not your own.

“ Your sister vas vera sick at home, and you
vas make herheart ache mit much foolishness
as you vas doing." .

 

l

“ My actions are none of your business, Jew.”

“ Oh yes, d vas my pizziness, and don’t you
vas fool yourse fs that dey vas not. ”

“ What have on to do with me?” asked
lFri-link, considerab y cowed by the man before
“I vas vant to keeps on out of t’e jails.”
“ Out of jail?” W the youth.

. f‘ Rat vas vha '

said, mine fri’nt; out of
“  have done nothing to be sent to jail for.”
“You knows potter, mine fri’nt, for tonight

you vas get one t’ousant tollars on false bre-
tenses ”

“ How i” came the whispered query.

“ Your fader vas leaves you nodings, and you
vas haf nodings, and yet you vas got one t’ous-

- ant tollnrs from t'e gambler mans on t’e promise

to ye him back.”

‘ And I can do it.”

“ Vere ish t’e monish?”

“ I will get it.”

“ Vill you rob your sister some more?”

“ Ha! do you accuse me of robbery?” angrily

cried the outh.
' “ I vas nows vat I saliva, mine fri’nt, and don’t
you vas sbeak so loud ' you don’t vant to finish

our leetle talks in brison. ’

“ I am no thief,” growled Frank.

“ You vas a forger of checks and notes, and
Egg vas rob your ader and your sister, and I

‘ live all tlilbogd it.” h h .

‘ tisa 'el gaspedt eyout .

“It vas truth so solemn as de vord of Abra-
ham," was the deep response.

Frank shuddered at this, for his conscience
would not sustain his bluster.

“ Mine fri‘nt, I vas know dat you did fo
some he
hands 0 von who means you vell, put who vill
use dem pretty quick, if you vas not do as I

s.

x Well, all this means some plot against me,
so out with it.”

“ T’e plot vas to saves you from yourselfs,
mine fri nt.”

“ I can take care of myself without your aid,
or that of anybody else.”

“ Vell, you has not done so, for you haf done
that v’ich vould put on in jail rig t avay.”

Frank winced at t ' and said:

“ Well, out with it, for you wish me to buy
you off. ‘-

“ Name your terms, but go low, for I have no
money.”

“ I do not vant your monish, young mans,
put I do vant to make terms.”

“ Well, out with what you have to say.”

“ I haf that to say that you mustbay t’e mon-
ish that you vas got from t’e gambler mans.”

“ I intend to do that.”

, “ I don’t vas know how, put I vill see.”

“ It is none of yourbusiaess, old man.”

“ I vas make it my pizziness, young mans.”

“ You’ll get the worst yet of interfering in
other folks’ affairs.”

“ I vas take t'e chances on that. ”

fl:;’VVhat else have you to say, for I must be
0 9

“ I haf to say that if you vas go into another
gambling-house in ‘this city, if I vas to know
that you vas to play cards for monish, and if

' u don‘t vas got some work, right avay quick,

vill have you arrested sent to brison as a
forger mans, a thief, and upon other charges I
vas able to pring against you.

“ Do “on vas ear my terms, mine fri’nt?”

“ An you dare threaten me thus?”

H I vas. 1’ 1

Frank Keene was in a desperate situation and
he knew it. ,

He felt that the Jew was his master, and how
to extricate himself from his unfortunate posi-
tion he did not know.

The terms of the Jew were certame not very
severe, he thought; but what it mattered to the
old man a total stranger to him, whether he
went to the bad or not, he could not comprehend,
so he determined to ask. .

“ Why do you take this interest in me?” he
asked, bluntly. ’

“ I vas take no interest in you, yoong mans:
put I vas know your beoples and feels sorry that
you vas so pad on their account.

“ You vas started straight for t’e benitentisry,
and I van vish to stop you, to give you a
Chili? d ’t as: 'td vill tty

‘ youonvas ei,enyou pre
soon be'in brison, so I asks you vat you vas in-
tend to do apoud it I”

“I havenodesiretogo to prison, or even to
risk the chances of your sending me there, which
I don‘t doubt your abilityto do, so I will agree to
your terms. ”

“ You vas bledge me your honors that you vas
not blay cards any more, drink, or enter t’e
blaces vere mans vas, vile vas got a
blace to we 'prettyquick and a soot

yo‘ I I 8r ' h edges will do
‘ ve ou suc 1 you surren r
into my (E the papgrs of which you speak?”
“ No, I vas keep dem, dat you may not preak
our vords.” - .
th“ g1 refuse to make such a pledge, Jew?” was
e

 

uestion. ‘
Thematithrusteachhandintoapccket of

rs some times ago, and dey vas in e »

 

the capacious coat that.he wore, and brought
themoutagain, eachtfiasp' somet ' .

The “ something " teac held were a pair
3f handcuffs and a revolver, while the Jew said

owly:

“ I vas ready to take you now, mine yoong
fri’nt, to de bnsons.”

Frank Keene shuddered visibly.

He was mastered and said quickly:

“ I make the , Jew.”

“ Dat vas rig t, mine fri’nt; now I vas
drive you home, put don’t you forgets t’e bledge,
for you vill be vatched pretty close, and of! you
vill go to t’e ”

Ashespoke the Jew hailed a back that was
passing, ordered Keene to enter it, and

ollowmg him, the driver drove off to the ad-

£33.21.”
As Keene dismounted before his door,
the Jew said:

“ You vas have my varnings, yoong man, and
don‘t you vas forget it.”

The youth made no reply and the vehicle drove
swiftly away. ,

Again was Cora u awaitin her brother, and
seei thathehad n ' ' ,andfee‘
that e had broken his pledge to or, she cri
out in mmlimh 0 her heart:

“ 0 l”my poor misguided brother, you
are  me. .

Frank eene stood abashed, though not so
much from his sister's grief as at what he had
just passed through.

He felt that his misdeeds were known, and
more, that there were papers in existence that
would be used ' him.

Forced to cm, he was therefore determined
to do so.

His face was white and seldom had his sister
seen him look as he did.

Rel ' wholly upon her to help him he must
atonce yhis welltogetherto oso.

“ 0 sister 1” agroaned, as he sunk d0wn by
thetabeintheli esitting—roomandburiedhis
his hands.

“ Well, Frank!”

“ I am indeed a sinner, but I have received a
lesson this night which will last me.

“ I fell from lgrace, for when I drew the money
on that draft met Barney Scott, and—” '

“Barney écott will gt go the way ofigur
other intimate friends, acyIBelden and ' h-
ard Denver, and a way whic it seems my bro-
ther is also destined to go,” said Cora, sternly.

“Well, sis I intend to make a clean breast of
it, confess all, and then w myself upon your
mercy, for if I have your contempt, I also de-
serve your pity.”

“ No, Frank, I feel no contempt for you, and
God knows I pity on; but nowyou seemindeed
to be inearnest, w n you as you will reform.”

“ I am, sister, as you know, when you
have heard all. ” ,

Then in a voice moved by deep emotion, or the
semblance of it to g3: hispoint, he told Cora
how he had drawn mone ,'dined with Bar-
ney Scott at Delmonico’s, an then how he had,
under the influence of wine, gambled the money
away and hop towinitbackhad gonedeeper
into mire
sand dollars, whic must be at once '

Cora was shocked, for a few h was all
that she had in the house.

“Whatwill theydo with on, if you donot
pay them right awa ,

“ Arrest me for money under false pre-
tenses, as the cla .”

“Oh, lfliismust not be,wacanpre-
vent it.” -

“ You, sis?” asked the youth, in feigned air-

‘: Yes, for I have some  left, which, .

thopgh [would not sell, I can borrow my

“ 0h, sister! but are they worth that much?”

“ They were my mothers, and I know
not their value: but I certain]
raise the thousand dollars with.”

I

morrow and see.”
“ No, Frank, I will take them myself.”
‘( er’

owe'Bflut t to gambl

‘ , sis i is a er.

“ He can be

him, make 9. gath excuse, and pay him.”
In vain did

rank Keeneurgeto heoontrary“

for Corawas firm, and so it was‘decided that

W   jewels and pay the due-bill! ‘_ 

 

CHAPTER XXIX;
THE PAWNBROKER.

y ' U
Essedintheeleganthomeof Emanuel (implant;

Jew millionaire, Alvan Judah signified
readiness to go to work.

  

   

toappearagalnst two

ing attended to, the wrap
threepawn-omces belongingto
Hebrew»

venhisIO Uforone thou- ‘

ve enough to “
“Well,Iwill take them ‘toapawnhrokerto—L I

“Yes, and more, I will pay the money you ,I‘:

noworsethan you andeillsee 

   
   
 
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
    
     
 
   
   
   
    
  
    
   
   
    
 
   
  
  
    
     
 
  
   
 
    
   
   
  
 
   
 
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
    
    
  
  
    
   
    
     
  
   
     
       
      

  
 

 

18

The Jew Detective:

 

 

The three gilt balls hung over the door of each,
and then there was the sign, in large letters;

“EMANUEL, PAWNBROKER.
"Liberal allowanCcs made upon all kinds of per-
sonal r0 art at a fair interest and a year‘s time.“
P P

Entering the shops, in each one Alvan Judah
found a back office well furnished and comforta-
ble, and a glance was sufficient to show him that
Mr. Gaspar, under the name of Emanuel, did an
immense business, for a steady stream of cus-
tomers were continually pouring in and out of
the shop, which was by far less dingy and for—
bidding than is customary with such places.

There was a clerk each in two of the places,
and in the third, which was the largest of the
three establishments, there was a bookkeeper and
an asswtant.

The former was a man of middle age, with a
cunning gloomy face, and the look of one who
took little pleasure in life.

“ Mr. Jacobs, this gentlemans ish my part—
ners, mine fri’nt, and vill take t’o mana emeut
of t’e blaces instead of yourselfs, who vii t’e
bookkeeper, spending two days mit each s o ,”
said Mr. Gaspar, introducing Alvan Judah.

The latter bowed politely, while Mr. Jacobs
merely bent his head sullenly and said:

“ I was not aware that you had to take a part-
ner, sir.”

“ Nor vas I, Jacobs; put it vas my vish so to
do, and so carry out my vishes, and this shentil-
mans is to take full charge, so report to him and
not to me.

“ You vas understand, Jacobs?”

“ Not clearly, sir,” was the sullen reply of the
man, who hated to have a new master, who
would hold him accountable, where, with Mr.
Gasppr he had pretty much had his own way.

“ ell, Jacobs, if you don’t vas understand, I
vill have to ex lain more,” said Mr. Gaspar,
somewhat im tiently. ,

But Alvan udah saw the situation at a lance,
and knew that Jacobs was not only Jeafous of
him, but fearful of being found out in certain
transactions he had made upon his own account,
little dreaming that he would have to answer to
an one for so doing.

thfloung Jew said quickly:

“As . Jacobs is so very obtuse, he is hardly
the right man, Mr. Gaspar, to have take charge
of the books of a business which seems as large
as yours, so rhaps I had better overhaul his
accounts, an look up some one else.”

Mr. Gaspar saw that Alvan Judah was talking
for effect, and rovoked with Jacobs for his
morose manner, 9 was glad to see the young
Jew take the initiative as he did, so said:

“ You vas t’e one, mine fri’nt Alvan, to do as
you blease, and if Jacobs, or t’e others do not
suit you, 'ust let ’em go avay.”

Instant y Mr. Jacobs became obsequious, and
bringi a smile to his ugly face, e said in
a crin g way: -
“ O , gentlemen, I hope you did not misunder-
stand me, for I wanted to know fully about this
sudden change, and so asked that I might be the
better instructed.

“ Mr. Judah, I am happy to congratulate you

upon becomin the partner of Mr. Gaspar, who
has been the t ergplo er I ever knew, and I
have served him fait ul y for fifteen years."

“Well, Mr. Jacobs, you remain here as book-
keeper only, and whether you remain another
fifteen years depends wholly upon yourself.

“Now set to work as soon as you can, and
have all the books ready for my inspection for
I shall commence in management without
delay,” and Alvan udah’s manner showed
Jacobs that he was to have a master who would
stand no trifling, and until sunrise the next
morning he was poring over his books, makin
them balance roperly, thou h to do so be h
to draw u n snug little nk deposit which
he had pu away to his own account, and which
had been growing from the charges he put down
to “ roflt and loss.”

“ here’s ears of savings gone, by this part-
ner comin in, and I am t ousands poorer than
I thought was, while, with that man my mas-
ter, I see no’ chance to make a dollar now above

m%salaiX.’

hen Ivan Judah came down to the office,
the next morning at nine o’clock. he found Ja-
cobs at his desk, and ted him with a pleasant:

“ Good-morning, r. Jacobs.”

Jacobs was all smiles, and walking into the
inner office, said:

“ Mr. Judah, the books are at your service,
sir, as they are, and I feel that you Will find no

~mistakes in them, though I would rather have
had time to look them over. ”

“ And you have not done so, Mr. Jacobs?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you keegsa light burning in the shop at
night, r. J aco ?”

‘ No, sir, for it is not necessary.”

" Then some burglars must have been in here,
as I saw a light in the shop for a while, and un-
til daylight it burned in this back office.”

Jacobs was thunderstruck.

He felt that he had an eye upon him which
he could not dodge, and he knew not what to
say, and Alvan Judah continued:

‘ Of course, not being very familiar with your
city, I may be mistaken; but I have taken rooms

 

not far away and walking out thou ht I detect—
ed a light in here, so, fearing troub e, placed a
detective to watch the lace until this morning,
and I am glad that not ing was taken.

“ Now I will look over the books.”

This duty kept Alvan Judah for several days,
and he had just about finished his task, when
suddenly he started, as a voice fell upon his ears
that seemed familiar, and his face flushed and
paled by turns.

It was a woman’s voice, and it said:

“ I have brought these diamonds to pawn, sir,
for I need some money very much.”

A silence followed, while the clerk, a oung
Jew looked them over carefully and aske< :

“ ow much you vants on dem?”

“ One thousand dollars,” said the familiar
voice again, and instantly Alvan Judah arose to
his feet and stepped nearer to the little window
that looked into the shop from his office.

“ I cannot gif you so much.”

“ Uh, sir, I must have that sum,” pleaded the
voice.

“ Den pring more somedings dat I gif you it J
on,” was the callous res use.

“ Alas! I have little e se to bring.”

“ Vell, I can do no more.”

“ How much will on lend me, sir?”

“ Five hundred do ars vas all.”

With a sigh the owner of the sweet voice was
turning away, when from within came the call:

“ Simon, come here!”

“ Yes, sir,” and the young clerk darted into
the Office. ,

“ Call that lady back and give her the money
she asks for.”

“ She hash gone, and day vas not wort’ more
dan six hundred tollars.”

“ Did you hear me, sir?” was the stern re-
sponse, and Simon darted out after Cora Keene,
for she it was, glad to escape from beneath the
angry eyes of his master.

 

CHAPTER XXX.
THE mwzvnn DIAMONDS.

WHEN Simon, the young pawnbroker ran out
after Cora upon her departure with a sad heart
from the shop, he found her walking slowly
along in deep meditation.

She felt that if she could borrow only five hun-
dred dollars on the diamonds, she must draw
upon the money she had at home and which
was her all, and even then she would not have
enough by a couple of hundred.

She had little more at home to pawn, but
what she had she would bring, and if that was
not enough Frank must then make some sacri-
fice and part with his diamond studs, for she
would have done all that lay in her power.

In this ' ul reverie she was interrupted by
the breat less Simon, who called out:

“ Come back, mish, and I gif you some more
monish.”

With a glad heart Cora followed the young
gfw, and again handed over her diamonds to

m

He glanced at them once more cautiously and,
convinced that he had offered all that was prop-
er under the circumstances, he said:

“ I takes them one minits.”

Then he handed them to Alvan Judah who
stood just inside the office-door, with the re-
mark: v

“ Dey vas not wort’ it, sir.”

“Give that lady the sum she asks for ” was
the whispered but stern rejoinder and imon
wegt back to his post and in a confidential way
sai :

“ ell, mish, since I look at dem over once
more, I vas if you t’e t’ousant tollars.”

“ h sir, in my heart I thank you.”

This burst of gratitude had no eflect upon Si-
mon, who took e diamonds, attached a card to
them, and then made out a ticket which he
handed to Cora, along with the money, which
he thrice carefully counted out, for he was not
one to make mistakes against himself.

“You will be careful with the diamonds, sir,
will on not, for I prize them very dearly.”

“ h, yes: I vas alva 's careful. ’

Taking her mone Cora hastened away, and
glancing at a card s 0 held in her hand, wended

er steps toward one of the cross-streets at a
point near Broadway.

Ascending the steps of a mansion, she rung
the bell and asked the one who answered it:

“ Is Mr.‘ Fenton in?”

“ Yes, miss,” reSponded the negro, and he ush-
ered her into a room which at first she mistook
for aparlor, but soon discovered was the gam-
bling-saloon, by the fare, roulette and other
tables that stood about.

Now in broad daylight it was deserted.

Mr. enton soon came in, havin just- arisen,
and tried hard to penetrate the t ick vail that
covered ra’s face, and which had hidden it
also from Simon’s netrating glances.

“Mr. Fenton, I Have?”

“ Yes. madam,” and the gambler bowed in a
courtly way. . ,

“May I ask if you hold anote signed by Frank
Keene, and due to-morrow 7”

“I hold two I. O. U.’s, madam, signed by Mr.
Frank Keene, and due tomorrow, and they are
for the sum of five hundred dollars each.”

 

 

“ I thank you, sir; and I have come to take
them up. -

“ Here is the amount they call for, which I
have brought, as it was not possible for my
brother to come.”

“ I thank you, Miss Keene, and here are the
due-bills, and I trust your brother will not again
force his sister to transact such an unpleasant
duty for him,” said the gambler. warmly.

Cora bowed. took the due-bills, and departed,
her heart ha ipy at saving her brother’s honor.

After a ew slight purchases, which were
needed, she returned home, and was handed a
sealed package by her negro maid, who, in her
misfortunes, had not deserted her, and now
served as maid~of-all-work.

“ A messenger brought this, Missy Cora."

“ IVhat is it, Lucy ?’

“ Dunno, missy, but he says it was intensely
valuable, and I s’ it is.”

Cora threw off or outer clothing, and seating
herself at the little table, brokethe seal.

What she beheld caused her to start with
amazement.

“ Ml] pawm-d diamonds!” she said, in a slow,
tremb ing voice. as she saw the case returned to
her, with the diamonds intact, which, but a
cou le of hours before she had pawned.

“ 'hat can it mean ?” she murmured.

Then her eyes fell upon an official-looking en-
velope, alsoa part of the contents of the pack-
a e.
reaking this open she discovered an envelope
addressed to her, and a number of papers that
had aflnancial look to them.

Opening the letter addressed to her she said:
“ This may clear up the mystery."

The handwriting was evidently disguised, and
this fact she quickly noticed.

Half-aloud, slowly, and taking in every word,
she read the letter, which was as follows:

” Will Miss Keene allow me to prove to her that in
all her trials and dee afflictions she has one friend
who will not desert er, one who, though he must
remain unknown, iswatcbing over her with the care
he might bestow upon a loving sister?

“ Ho ing that she will so fee and believe. and that
she w' keep the secret of this unknown friend’s in-
terest in her from her brother. 1 willmake known to
her that I act only from purest motives in befriend-
ing her, and in striving to prevent her brother from
going on the road to ruin which he seems so anxious
to take.

“Knowing Miss Keane’s adversities, and seein
her enter lhe pawnbroker’s this morning, I learne-
what took her there. and therefore took the liberty
of at once redeeming her jewels. and hereby return
them to her, bag ing her to accept them. '

“ That she pal the gamblingdcbts of her brother
I am also aware; but that Frank Keene might act
from fear, if not for self-respect, honor. and thelove
he should have for so noble a sister, I demanded of
him a pledge not to enter another gambling-saloon
in this city. or to gamble privately. or drink.

" I forced this pied e from him last night through
the apers within, w ich tell their own story.

“ am sorry that they tell of a brother's shame to
a. sister, one so pure and devoted as you have been;
but they are papers which Were to be held (as on
see by a letter within written to the former ho der
of them by a confederate in villainy) over your bro-
thcr’s head and thus used were to force from him,
your father and yourself, a large sum to get posses-
sion of them.

" As i understand the private memoranda within,
the notes and checks inciosed were forged by your
brother and taken up before they reached the eyes
of those whose names were thereon forged.

“The party taking them up did not do so to save
your brother, but to get possession of these papers
to use against him, and thereby force monqy from
him when the proper time came to_do so.

“This man know only as ‘D u.‘. but he hasa
confederate in guilt, whom the memoranda speaks
of as having been one Macy Beldcn. and who was an
escade convict, killed by your own hand in the
roadway near your father's farm up the country.

“ This same memoranda, which takes almost the
form of a diary, came into my possession. it mat-
ten not how, and no other eye has seen these tell-
tale pars.

“ owing their power for good. if properly used.
Iforced the plecge of reform from your brother
by telling him that they were in my possession, and
should be brought out against him if he failed in his
promise.

Now. as! have no idea, nor ever had, of using
them against him, I send them to you. that you
ms destroy them, for they are of too dangerous
at c aracter to have about, as they tell their own
s ory. '

" Still. after reading them and destroying them, it
would be as well to let our brother know that you
are aware of their exis ence. and will confront him
should his conduct demand it.

“In conclusion. let me say that if your brother
will report to the firm of Calhoun. Clinton & Com-
pany, of Broadway. be will find a situation 0 en to

im in their office, which will certainly pay onse-
hold expenses, if no more.

“ Now with every wish for your happiness. let me
sign myself your UNKNOWN FRIEND."

Thrice did Cora Keene read this letter over,
and then she turned to the telltale papers of her
brother’s sin. ,

These she put into the fire and watched them
burn to ashes with an expression of delight up—
on her face.

Then she looked again at her diamonds, and
turning once more to the letter, said with deep
feeling:

“ Disguise his hand as he may, I recognize the
same writin that was in the letter inclosing me
the five-bun ed—dollar draft.

'—

 

The J ew 12_etective.

19

 

 

 

“Yes, and the undertaker described the one
who paid that bill, and I know that my unknown
friend is none other than Judah the Jew, and
find him I will!”

CHAPTER XXXI.
T H E 'rwo LETTERS.
1': THE coil of circumstances, that was gathering
$5? around Frank Keene, day by day, convinced him
that, nolcns volens, he had to mend his wa 's.
Since he was fifteen years of age he hm had
his way, and he certainly looked then as much
the man as most youths of twenty.

 

between himse and sister, and their being:

twins, ’most every one deemed him several years i

he};1 senior.h h “1d
thong e co turn out a ve respectable
heard, he had no ambition or vanriyty that way, '
and wore his face beardless, though Cora joked j
him often for so doing, by telling him it was be- '
cause his dimpled chin and handsome mouth,
girlish in expression, were so much admired.
His hair was red-gold in hue, curling, and in
fact he was a very handsome outh, and would
have been greatly admired lit for his evil
course, which caused him to run recklessly into
debt, gamble, and commit all kinds of sms to
extricate himself from the dangerous positions
into which he plunged without thought of the P

consequences. .

When he found himself brought up with a -
round turn .by the old Jew, after leaving Fen-
ton's gambling-rooms, and then refused the dia- I
moads topawn, and to be allowed to pay his 1
debt, by his,eister, he felt that he must turn over
a new leaf I

Cora certainly had nothing more to pawn for
his reckless dissipation, and, with to ed papers
hanging over his head. and the know ed e that “
he was watched, he determined to put t e best I
face possible upon the matter, and pretend a
reformation he did not feel in his heart.

With this intention, however, he came home ,
8172i ginner in good time, appeared cheerful, and I

“ Sis, I have hope of getting work. I
cog? hills same (1311::d storydean Cora was

en 1; Frank no tter res ts
than before, so said: p pee

“ Frank, if {on will go down in the morning ,
to the firm 0 Messrs. Calhoun Clinton & Co.,

_‘ on Broadway ou will find employment.”
‘: Indeed! ow do you know this sis?” \
Some one that knew you n ed a place,
sent word here for on to go there.”
- “ Guess it was a oax, sis.”
:tYou canat least go and see.”
‘ I will do so to-morrow some time.”
‘ No, chat Once after breakfast.”
. . please ' on, I will, but I have no
hope} tfizt itnwill turn); out anything.”
‘ V0, W88 Cora’s met re l and then
she continued: q p y'

“ anka 1 Pawned the diamonds to-day that
mother left me. ”
“rW.s.
3 “ waso er aowsuniatflrst t
*- . saw that I evidently needed $.23:
’ » so gave the price I asked. ‘
" How much?”
“ One thousand dollars.” .,
.“ Why did you not strike him for mos-er
’ “Because I wished no more, for I have some
moneyi,“‘u on know, in the house, and with
i
a

 

‘ a- 

 

 

'. ‘ I'MW"1V’.“J‘ '~'.-:\»1:«7,-g--m';. ..

 4W A .a
.-
a
Q
h‘

what paid Iyour debt of one tho

“ H you saw eaten?”

 ' “ Yes, went to his house, asked for him, and
F when he came in, told him as it was impomible
 for outocome,Ididso.

., ‘ ‘ x “ ereare yournotu."

“D‘ heaven ' anon!” nervousi
‘ id ythms y y

L! ' “ Yes, he said that he hoped my brother would
not place me in alike painful tion ggm'n,”

, , Frank muttered was inaudible,

' ‘ j and Coracontinued:

.‘ ,“Now, Frank, you will at a situation with
‘  Calhmnoun, tClinton &‘Co.,uI am osmium, and I
. Pain  or a Vina lo we can
I. on ccly. ’
" “I senttwoof my ti to theartro‘oms
yesterday,and hots:I eyml bring me some.
thing, for I know t they are not bad, and the
celebrated artist, you remember, who stopped
several do at Oak Ridge Form, Mr. Ernest
, Galvan, an d they were rfect gems. though he
',may have meant to lie inc—— Ah! them is
the Inn’s magi.”
Cora went to t e door, and soon came back
7 With a smiling face, and a letter in her hand.
“ How agfmnge, brother, that so often. when
.we speak persons t ey appear. or somethi
_ connected with them comes up before us.” as
 l‘ , “ Well. sis. what does all this mean?”
. Snnythathmisalctterfromaieart
’ » m!” t my paintings, and look, brother, a
“ . . c '

With trembling hands Cora held the letter to
the light, and read as follows: '

" Miss Coil Kern:—
“ lnclosed ole-asc- flnd col-check for three hundre.

 

,:

 

 

His manners, when he wished them to be, 
were elegant and dignified. and at all times he .
was reserved, so in spite of the striking likeness '

  
 

"I‘na Sowina‘s FAREWELL.’
AND
: ‘Taa Seaman‘s Guava,”
l which were purchased by a gentleman this mom-
‘ in

 

. “Let us say that we highly appreciate your ar-
‘ tistic work, and ham other orders for you. so kind-
, 1y send in anything you may have on hand.
“ With respect.
“ Das Baossas & 00.,
“Art Rooms.”

“Oh brother! I did not believe that they
would brin one-third that money.

“Thank eaven! we will not starve,” and
tears filled the beautiful eyes of the happy ’rl,
a ray of sunlight among the somber ‘ adgolws
that surrounded her life.

said Frank, earnestly, and he meant it, forif his
sister could make hundreds of dollars in a few

weeks’ work, he saw chances ahead of him to i

idle his life away.

1

He was trembling, apparently with the cold,
and said, pleadin ly:
“I hope you wi not turn me away, lady, but

i give mea chance towarin, for it is a cruel night.

and your tire seemed to blaze so cheei'ily, as I

‘ saw it through the window, that I made bold to

ring and ask shelter for a short time.”

“ 'Willingly, sir; come in, and you shall have
a nice warm dinner, and remain all night, if you
have nowhere else to go.”

“ I have no home here, lady, and I thank you,
but will not remain long.”

“ Hallo, old man, one of your age ought to
have a place to go in this kind of weather. and

I not be pmwling about the streets," said Frank.

“Sis, I congratulate you with all my soul," ‘

“ Have you not another letter there, sis?” asked 3

Frank, as he saw Cora gazmg in ra ture at the
check, which was a proof positive t t she was
not a cipher in the world.

“Yes, three hundred dollars. and now I can :

soon pay back the debts I owe,” muttered Cora,
communin with her own thoughts.

“ What ebte, sister?”

Cora flushed, and said quickly:

“ The diamonds of course, and the bill for
poor papa’s funeral.”

“ Oh, yes; but there is another letter there
which you have not noticed.”

“ Oh, yes, and it has a foreign post-mark u
it, and went to Oak Ridge Farm, and was or-
warded from there.

“ Brother, it is addressed to father,” she said,
as she aned at the envelope.

Fran started, for superstition ran deep in his
nature, and he said hastily:

“ It is bad luck to open a letter addressed to
the dead, sis, so throw it into the fire.”

“ N o, brother, I will do no such foolish thing,-
for it ma be of mt importance.” , '

With t is she who the foreign seal upon it,
took it out, and glanced at the head-lines. '

“ Oh, brother. it is from uncle Gordon.”

“ Whatl father’s brother who went to China
before we were born?”

“ Yes, and whom father tried so hard to" find
fearin that he was ill in a strange land and
neede( aid.”

“Well,‘read the letter, for I expect he is as

rasacoun parsonandhascome hometo
‘ve off of us in ' old age.”
‘4 For shame, brother, for if he did, I would
gladly care for him, and he would be a second
ether to us.”

" One father is enough,” growled Frank, while
Cora began to read the letter aloud: '

“ Home Kore, Cams, September so, 18—.
“MY DEAR Bao'rasa Him:—

" [t has been last twenty years to-ni ht since I
bade you farewe l on the goo ship that re me to
a foreign land.

“ I left home then under a clan , for I was never
guilty of the act that fatheracc mo of,and which
he found out, years after, that I was innocent of.

“ You trusted in my word. and your friendshi
clung to me to the last; but when I left home
swore that I would never return until I was a rich
man. ,

“Through certain sources I have kept informed
of matters at home, andfyou have my sympath in
the loss of your dear wl e, and my congratth one
that you have two loving children to make your
home blessed.

" Now, brother, I know how hard you have tried
to find me, and of your sending me money, all of
which i have not accepted for I did not need it, as

and rosper ty‘has come to me.

” am a very rich man. and I am unmarried, so I
an coming home to live with you and your children

0 few yea rs that are left to me-

“ And maybe I will not. last Ions. for even now I
suffer with heart-disease the hereditary curse of
our family. and any dayl may drop 03; but I am
ready whenever the Master gives me the summons.

“ l shall arrive in New Yor about Christmas, and
shall go to the St. Nicholal Hotel, the only one I re-
member t ere, and will then send you word, for I
do not Me to coins to your home until I know I
am welcome. r

“ Give my love to your children, and say that on-
cle Gordon will be a Santa Claus for them, as he
comes about Christmas time.

“ I will not write more now, as I hope to see you

soon.
“- EVBI' affectionately,
“ Your brother

. l c. Goa/Do” km 9'
-“'l‘hnnk Godtheoldmanisrich,” criedth

“ Rich orpoor, I thank God he comes back to
us againrbut he is overdue now and I will go
to the St. Nicholas to-morrow and look him up—b
nay, Frank, why could you not go down to
night for it is early, and, if it was not so bitter
cold I’ would go.” . -
’ 5‘ By Jove. ’11 do it, for I intend to get into
the old man’s good opinion, as he is rich.

“ Bravo! this is a day of luck, sis, and I
I won’t have to go to“ work now—there the

door-bell again ”

  

wont to the door.

 

 dollars ($300 00))“: full. less our commiulon, ‘0
our two companion paintings—viz:

l . i

As Lucy wasbusy
She foundvthere an old man, withgra , ‘
stoop. loaf

from the day I left home I have led an upright life -

y hair
In. Mud ‘1“;va M.
is V,. y; > a .

 

vchoosetoask

 

rudely).

“ T is good lady said I might come in and
warm, sir,” answered the old man, hesitating as
to whether he had not better retreat.

“ You should go to thestation-houses to warm,
where the city provides for all tram x"

“ I am no tramp, sir, but apoor o (1 man; but
I will depart as you seem not to wish me here.”

“ N o. sir. you will take this comfortable chair:
it was in poor father’s, and he loved it well.

“ Sit own. and let me take your shawl, and
the girl will bring you some hot coffee," said Cora.

“ Sis, I am ashamed of you, and, if you are
52:23 to make my home a hospital fer dilapi-'

tramps, I Will get out of it.”

“ Brotherl do not go too far if you wish to re--
tain my love.

“ This is not your home, but mine, and what-
money I had saved up buys food for us, and I
this r old gentleman to dine
with us. and he wil do so, for he shall not go
out again into this bleak night until he is thor-
ough‘ll‘y warmed ”

“ ell dine with the old tramp, if you wish;
but I will not, for I go down-town to look up our
rich old uncle, who must have arrived by this
time ” and Frank Keene drew on his heavy coat,
and rawing his sealskin ca over his ears, left
the little home in anger at is sister‘s kind act
to one in distress.

 

CHAPTER XXXIL
A BLESSING IN DISGUISE.

THERE was something so gentle in Corns

manner, as she set to work to give her guest a

ood dinner and make him feel welcome, that
ghe old man watched her with eager eyes, as she
went to and fro. _

She was dressed in deep black, and her pale
face and red-gold hair were in beautiful con~
trust, while her form was willowy and the per-
fection of exquisite outline.

The home was neat as a New England house-

wife’s, there was an air of comfort over all, in ‘

s ite of
c eerily.

its plainness, and the fire burned.

 -r

The table was spread with a snowy cloth, and . 

Cora had placed a third seat for her unexpected
guest, for she saw that ' he was no ordinary per-
sonage, even though poverty had seemingly
brought him down to wandering about without
a home '

When all was inreamness, Uora mvxted the I"

oldmantotakeaseatwithher,andbendinghis
head he asked:

“Ma I ask God‘s blessing, miss?” \

Cora wed assent, and the old man devoutly
asked Heaven’s blessing in a voice and manner
that told that he was in deep earnest.

It was a easant meal, for the stranger ldgnest
talked Wel , had seen much of the wor , and

Cora felt toward him a friendship that she could , '5
‘ l .

not account for. _
After the meal was over, and‘ the two had ad-
journed to the sitting-room. the old man

ed a cigar which Cora oflered to him, and ugfie' , ‘f
y, 

' itseemedtoenjo its fragrance immensel
1%» he sat in thought.

At length he said:

“ Young
practicing deception; but some time ago I read
a story'that made an impression upon me, sim-
ple thou h it was.

ob 

H A
“$33” assured
was oo o
and two  ‘

son and

mor lived in one of the most fertile
undhim

6, two sons
“‘Theeldestof the two a dough tar,
had been sent off to fashionable boardingZ
schools,andthetwoyonngerwerekeptathomo.
to attend the country school near by. .
0.3;” ‘3‘“ m ‘ it“? 32“". a...” ’°"
an re me r it your,
tion,t’he two omen filled her head full
of nonsense about how to live. . ' ..
“The old carryall was not enough for
them, neither was the team 0 _ old guys, so a:
landau was bought, along with two spirited,
homo and a stylish harness. , =
“Afarmhandwasmadeto righiinself
blue suit, to drive thise trig, and thus

arm’sfamilydrove to evinnge church-oing
thaSabhathday,‘ . . _
“The second vacation came round an! 

oldhomehadtobeeolaiggdmhay-wi’ndowm»
in here and there and parlor
whack tlfth $13”!th ‘
““_ wi em esons ow  '
“frienduchto spend thevaoation, _ ,,

     
    

    
  

lady, I am not one who believes in 

otwassimplemndafter‘thiswisez- 

 

upm:
the

9 

 

   
     

 

 

     
   

‘ ins?

' addressin

The Jew Detective.

 

 

“ The old farmer was a good man; but he was
very weak as regarded his children and wife,
and they completely governed him, so that the
few thousands he had at interest in the bank had
been cut down to as many hundreds, and living
expenses increasing he had not been able to lay
by as much as was his wont.

“ He argued with his wife and children, but
his notions were considered old-fashioned, and
they said that all would be well.

“ One Christmas vacation the family sat
around their tire-place, all merrily talkin , all
excepting the farmer, who had drawn on his
last money from the bank for Christmas pres-
ents.

“ It was a fearful night out, and the snow was
driving in clouds as it fell.

“ Suddenly a ste was heard upon the piazza,
followed by a timi knock. ,

“The door Was opened by the fashionable son,
who expected it might be a sleighing—party of
neighbors.

‘ But instead he saw an old tramp, ragged
and wretched looking, shivering with cold.

“ ‘ Get out! no tramps wanted here,’ he said,
rudely, bangin the door in his face.

“ But his at or sprung to his feet, and throw-
the door said:

‘ me in old man, for this is no night to
drive even a 0g from one’s door.’ _

“ ‘ Husband, son is right; we should not admit
tramp?) cried the wife.

“ ‘ i o, indeed, We might be murdered and rob-
bed,’ said the elder daughter.

“ ‘ Pa , please don’t drive him awa .’

“ ‘ Papa, Klease let him stay,’ urg

dren .

farmer, and the old man came in, trembling and
seemingly hurt at the welcome he had received
from the mother and her eldest children.

“ In the mean time the farmer ordered the
cook to prepare a. warm sup r, and the younger
boy hunted up some of his ather’s old clothin ,
and led the tramp away to put them on, whi 6
his little sister set the table and made all com-
fortable for him. ,

“ When all was read the tramp sat down and
ate a. heart supper. w ile the farmer’s Wife and
her eldest c ildren talked in loud tones, insulting
him b hints and other WEI: all in their power.

“ “glen his sup r was ished the t p en-
tered the room w ere all sat, and said, y,
the farmer:

“ ‘ Bret er, it has been twenty-five years since

we met, and I went away from the old farm a I

poor boy, leaving you everything.

“ ‘ I have come back to see you, and wishing
to know what kind of wife and children you had
I came here in this disguise, for then I could
know them as they are.

“ f I am unmarried, and I am a very rich man
and these two youngest children of yours shall
I leave my money to, for I have no use for those
upstarts and their foolish, heartless mother.’

“ Had the lightnin in mid-winter struck the
house, all con] not ve been more astonished

“In vain did the woman and her two silly
children beg pardon, for he was not to be won
over and he left the house that night, for a

1 sleig awaited him outside, and buying a farm

near bfiyshe adopted the two younger children as
his he . ‘ ' A
“Now, miss, that story made such an impres—

' sion upon me that I have done just what that
man d d '

~ according

I

 

, . ' “I have come back rich, and have found out
' 'just what a worthless nephew and what a lovely
 . ‘ niece I have.

“I heard that Frank was wild, for I made in-
uiries at the hotel and I know all. and you

ra, my meet child, are now my daughter and
y heiress, for I am your rich old uncle, Gor-
don Keene.”

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.
ran WARNING MANAOLE.
Wm Frank Keene left his home upon tne
rrival of the supposed tramp, he Was really
glad to get an excuse for going out.
He reigned a good dinner, washed down b
a bott e 0 wine, at Delmonieo’s, to dining wi

1

his sister.

He had some twenty dollars in his pocket, and
, as a gambler with that amount, felt
like a mi onaire, for men of the Chance profes-
sion'are never downhearted unless they are ut-
terly dead-broke, and have no money whatever
for a “stake.” ° '

Barney Scott was conveniently near the door
as Fran Keene entered Delmonico’s, and the
latter hesitated and said: ,
. “ You left main the lurch nicely, didn’t you?”

‘f I saw that the old man was a detective
Frank, and felt that I could do you re
 than” if locked up with you, so get out of
' way. ’ ‘

“ You did, indeed. and pretty livelfiatoo; but
I don’t wish a quarrel with you may, so
come in” and have some dinner or you look

1 . . .
’ ‘ g “I am,” was the frank rejoinder of the {sung
f. I man, Who was  in his payments his,

the two ‘

 

boardin -house, and had nothing just then that
he coul pawn.

“ I have deposited my watch for safe-keeping
with a Jew, and mut keep nliiy chain and studs
for a pearances, you know, rank.”

“ h, yes, you must look well, and if you did
not I would not ask you in here. ’

The two then entered the fashionable ca é,
and Frank proceeded to order according to is
means, for, as he said:

"I must keep a ten as a starter for to-night,
and I have only about twenty.”

“ Will you go to the Sportsman’s Paradise?"

“ No, sir.”

“ To Fenton’s l”

“ Not I.”

“Where. then?”

“ \Ve’ll strike a less fashionable quarter, Bar-
ney, for I have reason to believe that I am shad-
owed about the best places.”

“ Is that so?”

“ It is, and I have no desire to come upon that
old Jew again.”

“ Nor I,” answered Barne , feelingly, strok-
ing a bruised spot u n his 0 eek_where the fist
of the old Jew had allen heavily.

After their dinner the two worthies ordered a
cab and drove to a third-rate gambling-house.

Getting out they entered the place, walked up
to a fare table. and Frank Keene bought “ chi ’
to the amount of ten dollars, with the remar to
Barney Scott. in a low tone:

“ If I lose this, I have just enough money to
ride home on the street cars.”

And lose it he did, and with a and heart he
‘ turned away from the table, foll0wed by Bar-
s ney.

‘ Again they stood to ther at the outer door of
' the gamblin -h0use, \v ien suddenly appeared the
‘ bent form 0 the old Jew.

Barney started on a jump to fly, but was clev-
erly tripped and fell.

Before he could l‘lSi' he felt the J ew’s foot upon
him, and saw him bending over him, while he
covered Frank Keene with a revolver.

“Yoonfi shentilmans, I wants on both right
avay so on’t make me no tron les, or I calls
that helicemans there.”

Barney subsided, and Frank said angrily:

“ I am not one to run, sir.”

“ It vould do you no goods mine fri’nt; put I
vants to gif this yoong shentilmans to that ho-
licemans, as he vas guilty of' collectin some
monish for his employers and fo' t to f it up,

on see, while you, mine fri’nt, vants to haf a
eetle talk with, and if on don’t listen you vill
go mit the bolicemans, .”

The old Jew gave a shrill whistle, and the
liceman, standing beneath a street lamp hair:
square off, came quickly toward him.

“ Mishter Bolicemans, vill you take dis yoong
mans, vat I haf under my foot, down to de
station- house, and I come round in t’e mornings
to make charg against him?

“ You see I vas haf m padge as a detectives?”

 

“I see, sir; allyri h , sir; the un tough
goes;fibehind the bars, you say so; ut t e other
one ’

“ I vill look me after him.”

“ All right, air,” and collar-lug Barney Scott,
now terr‘bly alarmed, the policeman led him oi!
to the station-house.

“ Now, mine fri’nt, I vas see that you vas for-
gets my varningsl” and the old Jew turned to

rank, who replied haughtily:

“ You are not my master, sir.”

“ Yrs I vas, mine fri’nt, for I haf t’e bapers
vat you knows. and I vas told you that it vould
pe pad if you blays more at carts, but you vas

orgets, so I gif you somedin that reminds you
it vas wrong to preak your ledge, so you vill
not to it again.

“ If on does, you vill haf to look oud.

“ me see your hand, blease.”

Had Frank Keene not desired to have the Jew
take his hand, it would have been all the same,
for the grip upon his arm he was powerless to
throw oil! ‘ «

Shoving the cud, the old J ew‘ bent over the
wrist an ins nt, then a. sharp snap was heard,
and then, to his horror, Frank Keene found that
his wrist was encircled by a broad steel band,
polislllied brightly, a bracelet of metal'he did not
relis .

Holdin it up to the light, to view it, he saw
no break 11 it, and how to it off he did not
know unless he had it ill off.

Seeing that 'there was something engraven

,he held t close to the light and read:

“Wear this as a last Warning of what your fate
will be if you again break your pledge.

“ Dare to rem- we it for one year, and Heaven have
mercy upon you.” »

“Jew, how dare you thus manacle in am?”
he cried in a fury, and turnin upon t 9 man
who had so do ed him, as considered. to
his amazement e found he had noiselesst slip-
ped away while his back was turned so that he

could read the words engraven on the steel
wristlet. .

Frank Keene was almost unmanned 1m po-
sition in which he found himself, and ‘ or
some moments in deep humiliation.

_ “I am dogged byvday. and night, and what
all menar’ ~ ‘

does it ,
Jew is other than heseen‘m, for no ‘

 

 

   

 

man of his apparent age could possess such
stren h. '

“ by, I am not safe anywhere, it seems. and
I, will have to turn over a new leaf.

“I would like to go to some place where I
could get this filed 0 of my wrist, only I dare
not do so, after the warning, for I believe I am
a trifle suspicious.

“Ah! I’ll change my ways, wear this galling
manacle in patient submission, and it will doubt-
less be removed when it is known that I have re-
formed.

. “Let me see, what was it I had to do to-
night?

‘ Ah yes, I remember; it was to look up that
rich olduncle and see if he has arrived.

“Scott put him whollfiout of my head, so I
will goat once to the St. icholas, for this man-
acle will not show under my end, and if it does,
I’ll say I am wearing it upon a wager.

“ By J ovel but Barney is caged, and it is lucky

. I am not.

“But if he has stolen money from his firm he
deserves it. for I hate a common thief.

‘ Now for the St. Nicholas Hotel and my old
Chinese uncle.” .

With this he wended his to the hotel,
asked at the office, and found t t-Mr. Gordon
Keene had been a est there for several days.

Frank sent up h scard and anxiously awaited
the return of the bell-boy.

“Mr. Keene went out, sir, after an early din-

ner,” was the reply.

“Well. put my card in his box—stay, I will
write a. line on it. ”

\Vriting a line or two to sa that he would
call early in the morning, Fran said:

“ Now for home, as I have no money to spend.

“ N ow, why has that old duffer not let us
know that he was in town, for father’s name is
in the Directory, and anything sent there would
have been forwarded to our l“egresent palatial
,hut,” and the youn man snee .

“ Ah, yes; the ol fellowhas heard of father’s
death, and that he left his two children p‘enni-
less, and fights shy of us.

“But he must not do this, for, as he is rich,
I will cultivate him in spite of himself, and be
so necessary to his happiness he will have to
adept me.”

Taking the avenue car that took him nearest
to his home, Frank Keene surprised his sister by
putting in an apfizarance before ten o’clock.

“ Brother, we ve a visitor,” said‘ Cora, meet-
ing him at the door ~

“ Who is it?” he asked, in a whisper.

“ Uncle Gordon.” . . ,.

“ Indeed! I called upon him at his hotel, and
was eatly disap inted to find him out.

“ am deligh to know that he has called,”
and Frank walked tothe hat-rack to throw off
his coat and hat, when he caught si ht of the
man he had believed a tramp seated ere. ,

“ Say, old duller it is time for you to go for
this is a little famil reunion to-mght to which
tramps are not invi ,” he said, harshly, but in
a low tone not wishin the uncle be supposed to
be in the sittin -room a) bear it. .

“Cora, myc 'd, is this the youth that m

brother was so unfortunate as to call his son?" I

and thesu posed tram towered tohis'full ht '
and gazedpsternly at nephew, ‘while hi(351's.
said reproachfully; . , .

“ Oh, Frank! t t is uncle Go on. who came
in the disguise he now wears to just what we
were at home.”

' “ And I have found out that you, my dear

Cora, are one of the noblest of women, while I '. i

have a nephew Whom to own as such, I fear will
bring the lush Of shame to his sister’s cheek and
mine, if he does not repent his ways very quick-

.“ Oh, sir, indeed I regret having acted as I ‘

did, but the fact is. Cora s good heart leads her
to do many foolish things, and in this wicked
city there are many lawless deeds done by just

suchpersonsaslsu posed ontobe.

“ I have been will , I admit, but I have re-
formed, and if m will forgive me, you will not
find me such a fellow asyou think.”

“ Well, Frank, you are forgiven, and I will
try and see if I cannot make a man of you, for
you beiar”my name and I do not wish you to dis—

ce t.

And Gordon Keene his nephew’s hand .
and looked him square} in the face. ' _
Frank had played 1138 It well, and chuckled
over his triumph; but in is heart he cursed the
man who had so cleverly made him show just
what he was.

After a while Mr. Keene arose to go, and

. Frank offered-to see himto a car, if he would , . « .
not remain all night; but the old gentleman re- .

nded:
“.I have a carriage waiting for me around the
,corner, for I would not drive up to your door,
as I could not successfully play the part of a

o-morrow, Cora, I will but}; back 2 m- fa- .
ther’s old home, and we will go t ere tol ve. and

if Frank mends his wa s he run he one of our ,
_ home circle, but if npt,yhe can ggt quarters else-

where; good-night,’ and Gordon eene w-nt
forth into the night, while a deep K f

   

  

his unworthy nephew.
. x . I

u '~

‘ ‘  , 'x ,

.— 1,» \ wfi‘!  ~

. ' moation V
that shocked Cora, followed him fronuintgw lipid \ A

 

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2 The Jew Petective-

21

 

 

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE DETECTIVE.

THE day after he got affairs working at the
pawn—offices, Alvan Judah determined  lay
the cornerstone of what it had been his inten-
tion to carry out, from the time that he had been
arrested as a murderer that night in the wood-
land.

He had brooded over the mystery of the shot
which had killed the man whom Cora Keene
boldly confessed to have killed.

He had brooded over the initials which he saw
upon the silk handkerchief, and could not forget
the two attacks upon himself, one in the grounds
of Oak Ridge Farm, the other on the highway
near the mansion of Emanuel Gaspar.

lie felt that this mysterious “ D. D.” had been
in the woodland when the murder was commitr
ted and he knew that he was the one who had
tacked him.

He had promised Cora that he would solve the
mystery, and move to her that she was not the
one who had ed that fatal shot.

When wandering about the streets of New
York, with no work and just enou h money to
buy him food, he had made himse thoroughly
acquainted with the lowest localities in every

quarter. _ .

He had studied the city from river to river in
all its phases.

'A natural-born detective, he had been enabled
to discover in his wanderings certain plots for
crime, and had promptly thwarted them by go-
ing to the secret service chief and reporting
them.

In this way he had made the a uaintance of
the chief, who, recognizing his a ility, wished
to engage him 11 n his force.

But Alvan J u would not bind himself ; he
would not be trammeled in his work, for he felt
that he must be wholly free for anything that
might turn up, and so he did not accept the offer
of hief Boland.

But to the chief he went, as soon as his for-
tunes chan so suddenly and unexpectedly.

He for a private interview and it was

granted.

Chief Boland r ' his face at a glance,
but he saw that he seemed no lo er the poor
young man who had several times fore served

im well, and invariably refused his offers of
money.

“ ~morning,sir; Iain lad tosee ou
lookinng well. Be seated, p ease,” said C 'ef
John land, pleasantly.

“ Thank you, sir, I am feeling well, for I have
just come into a lar fortune which I never ex-
pected to get, and Igtfiive come around to have a
ittle talk with you upon an im t matter.”

" ngratulate you, .—-.— .—” I

“ My name is Alvan J u sir.”

“Accfkpgam congra Mr. Judah, and
bcillileye t I can serve you in any way, I
W‘ . ‘

“ You can, sir; but I am willing either to pay
well for the service, or to give heavy bonds for

. my 00d faith."
“ one required, Mr. Judah; but tell me what
I can do.”
“To make my Ilan wall understood, sir, I
must tell you the ry ” and Alvan J mm; mm
to his attentive listener

_ _sto .of his life, since
his return from Mexico, inclurihng the position
he then held, continuing With:

“ Now it is my desire to thoroughl trace this
mystery to a rfect solution, Mr. land, and
my present du so will give me ample leisure to
do so; but tn'woomplis this purpose I must be
fully armed as an enmer of the.law, and what I
ask of you is the badge of an untrammeled de-
tective, 0116 Who can go where he pleases,
though of course I miss my reports to

on.
“I can dobetterthsn thatfor on Mr. Judah,
for I will secure the. tion 0 mm States
Marshal for you besi es viii you full papers
and the badge ofade veo oer midget r-
for on towear the shie of apo be.
man. Ido Kreahzingthelmportanceot the
steps ycu- are taking in this matter, and that
on may be wholly protected. The detective’s
go I will ‘give you now, I
to-morrow I will have the others ready for you.”

Alvan Judah warmly thanked the kind-heart-
ed secret service chief, and de . , determined
to at once enter upon the so ution of the mys-

tel' surroundinghim. I
med with ull , he set to work to

’ {Sghten Frank Keene into reformation, as he
i l

eved him hopelessly beyond reforming from

a  of hongréecti to d h be
m 'ng e V68 is steps, was
kept m informed of theoignovements of the
oath, and alsoof Barney Scott, his intimate
i'iend, and, holdm himself in readiness to act,
he Wes enabled to on hand in disguise, and

give Keene some wholesome lessons.

In regard to Barney Scott, he did not wish to
rosecute him, as he knew that it would bring
ank Keene also into unpleasant notoriety,
and for the sake of Cora he desisted from press-

ing the case, but appearing“? the nee court
the folloivi morn' he _ . him issedun-
deranomin bail, bu huditimpressed u the

youth most thoroughly that he would be ealt

“ ; severely. with if he was caught in any more .

l .

sight, but he had tak

andifyouwillcall'

 

   

 

questionable transactions, seen in gambling

rooms, and found in the company of Frank .

Keene.

“ A little more and I would have to thank
them for being alive,” muttered Barney Scott,
as ho hastened away from the court.

Then he added:

“But I’ve had a lesson after last night in that

den, and I intend to keep out of trouble.
“There’s something up, too, against Keene,

and I wish I knew just what it was, so I could .

make him pony up, for though he is poor, some-

how he gets money when he needs it, and he don’t ‘

win it that is certain, for I never saw him quit

when he was in luck, but hold on until he lost ‘

all.”

Having begun his war upon Frank Keene,
wholly on account of Cora, Alvan Judah also
laid his lens to discover the whereabouts of ‘ ‘ D.
D.,” an wrote to Chicago to ascertain the full
Barticulars of the mysterious disappearance of

octor Austin Travers.

He knew that Cora had been engaged to the
doctor, and he believed therefore that she dear]
loved him, so was anxious to know fully uni:

ing his fate, and the youn Jew felt anxious to .

be the one who should tell er just what had be—
fallen her lover.

With all this extra work Alvan Judah did not
no lect his office duties, and attended to them
fu y, while every other day he managed tosteal
time to run up and see uel Gaspar.

Upon such visits he ever received a warm wel-
come, not only from the old Hebrew, but from
his beautiful daughter, whose heart had been
stolen aby the handsome youn Jew whose his-
tory h been so full of venture and ro-
mance.

For Murielle Ga r to love any one, was to
give to that one t 9 most idolatrous worship,
and to her father she made knewn her secret af-
fection for Alvan Judah.

irl, mine child, and

“You was a peautiful
he loves you also, put he ont vant to say so

ye . .

“ It vlll penll right retty quick, for he was a
fine oong mans. an I vac love him already
like e vs: my sons, as he vill pe v’en {on vas
marryhim, so don’t you fret your pre ty eyes

oud.’

With this hope, egressed by her father, Mu-
rielle Gaspar lived y by day, while the man
she idolized went on in the routine he planned
out for himself, and also held ho in his heart
of winning one fond heart for his own.

But let the sequel show whose heart it was
that the Jewish detective sought to win.

 

' CHAPTER XXXV.
PLAYING A our onus.

BACK to their former grand home in the city
moved Cora Keene on her brother, and the
master of the home was their uncle Gordon.

He was given the rooms that had been the
doctor’s, and both his nephew and his niece did
all in their power to make him most comfort-
able and happy.

The old gentleman seemed to fairly idoline
Cora, and was never happy if she was out of his
, on up the idea. that he knew
Frank perfectly, and had saidto him very plain-

ly:
“Now, nephew I know just how weak your
father was, and that fio‘filmade a fool of him' .
“He invested foo' goat your suggestion,
althouglti were but a y and half a block-

head a

“He paid our bills until he drew his cash
from the ban , bo ht you a_ ranch in Texasand
stockedi and you t tgotoruinandsoldthe
cattle, an you were the cause of his downfall
in the end and indirectly ou killed him.

“Now, ank, I’am willingtobo a. father to
Iyou, but not the kind of one my unfortunate

rother was, or you’d have me ruin myself and

blow my brains out in the end.

“I am a very rich man far richer than your -

father ever was; in fact, am worth quadruple
what he was, and I made it all myself.

“ I tell you this that you may understand just
what €211 have to expect from me.

“I ve boughtth this place at a bargain,
for I paid cash for it. '

,“I bought back Oak Ridge, Frank,alsoata
low 'lflg'gre, because _I paid cas for it.
y a

“ re both in your sister’s name, and my

*Will, which I made anew yesterday, leaves her

all my propert . "

“But there h an a pendix. or clause which
leavesa handsome f une to you if you live up
to certain inciples; but if you do not obey as

ou shoul , that clause is not worth the paper it

YE“°“1°”' t‘harsh, Frank f to

ow am no or on are
have an income from me of jiisttvgb hundred
dollars per month. ~ ‘

“You got a. situation several days with
Calhoun, Clinton & 00. that pays you eighteen
hundred a year.

“ Now this gives you three hundred and fifty
a Enginhi' h V ‘ board 1 gang

‘ ouive ero,so yno and od' ;
I have ordered a goodpl‘iorse and buggy for you,
and as he is stabled here, it will cost you“ noth-
ingtokeephim. I x   ,

 

“ So you have your income and salary to spend
as you please, and I will stand no nonsense.

“Gamble one dollar away. enter this house
drinik, live above your three hundred and fifty
per month, associate with questionable people,
and you never darken a ain the door of your sis-
ter’s house, for you she not disgrace her, not
my name.

“ Now you have heard your Chinese uncle. as
you call me, give you a setting den. and you

now just what to expect, so you can choose
your own course.”

“ Uncle, I thank you for the plain talk you
have given me. and shall prove myself worthy
of your esteem, and more than make up for
the”heartaches which I have occasioned poor
sis.

So said Frank Keene, and rising betimes and
goin to his work, and spending most of his
evenings at home, it certainly looked as though
he had indeed reformed.

But under this life Frank grew pale and thin,
alld one day hinted that he would like to go

est.

His uncle suggested a trip to California, on
some business interests of his, and Frank seized
upon the idea with delight.

But, before he went, be determined to have

a talk with his sister, and hence sought her in

her own room one night.

“ Sis, I have got to go West, on this business
]for un’cle Gordon, and will be away a month at
east. ~

“ Yes, Frank.” '

“Now I think I have lived devilish square of
late sis.”

“ ’You have indeed."

“ No fault to find with me?”

“None whatever, Frank, and you deserve
credit.”

“Thank you; but I have come to tell you a
great secret.” \ |

“ Well, brother?”

“I am in trouble.”

“ Oh, brother!”

“ Don’t get frightened, for I haven’t touched a
card or been drunk since I reformed.”

“ Then what is your trouble, Frank?”

“ It is an old story.”

“ How mean you, Frank?”

“You see, some time ago, over a year now, I
was led into executing some paper which now

comes u inst me.”

“ We , rank?” '
. “I should ndhave done it, but I did, and the
result is the paper is held me now.”

“ How much is the note or?”

“It is not a note.”

“ What then?” *

“I was drunk, did not know what I was
doing, and wrote some names on some financial

pers, and they are held against me now as
valligeries, and the men who hold them say they

' arrestmeand push theafiairifI donotpay
them.”

u  MI”

“ Don’t blame me sis, for tint was done be-
fore I reformed, and most bitterly do I feel it

now.

“ But I have only about six hundredsaved up,
and I can do nothing toward paying the sum,”

“qu much is it, Frank?”

“ Twelve thousand dollars.”

 .. MW...

9 paper or u eig

he has me in his power and thus makes me 83;,
andhewillspringniltupon me if Istartto ‘ -
form’s. without ying the documents from

u‘

tersnothow,andI

3!
new”
“ But how?”
.“Never mind, Iwill get them, so comehere
to-morrow night, and I will show them to you.”
Frank wasastounded, and departed from the

room, goingdireqtlytoahwseonacross street
not far awa .

wdlgetthepapersfor

‘ I

He the ' when the door was
opened, and knocked at a room upon the second
oor 

fl . -

Entering at an invitation, he found there Bar-
ne Scott, living0 quite comfortably, though he
only; work.

' olLBu‘ney I struck sis forthe amount,
and here. ryabouthavingtobuyagg
someforged persafellow heldagainstinei'm
she coolly to me she would get them and ve
them for meto-morrownight. '

“What shemeansI do not know, but I shall
have to waitand see.” *

“ Frank, arethere not honestlysuch paperlout
against you?”

“Y Barney.”

“ An can your sister
“ If she knows who he
“ Does she!”

‘I do not know.” .
“Doyout” , -

“ I think 'it is that infernal old Jew.”

“ Well, if she eta them!” ‘ ‘

“Ido not kno what to do, for if Ido not
pay our losses in a few that ‘
mean be

t them?”
them.”

0

      
  

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him I xplayed tricks on him and got money un-
der fa se pretenses.”

“ You are in a bad way, Frank."

“ And so are you, for you live by my charity,”
was the angry retort.

Barney Scott smiled, and answered:

“ Yes, We are both in a bad way; but I can
help you out.”

n HOW g”

' “ If your sister shows you papers, tell her they 3 you, I
I know, for you are not t e same boy at al now I

are not the originals, but copies, and that who—
ever ve them to her played a cheap game
upon er.

“Tell her you can send the man to her with
the originals, and send me, with some which we
can et up.”

“ will be there, and leave with you. for once
you get twelve thousand dollars in your hands,
you would skip out for m unknown.”

“ You wrong me, R; but do as you

,9

“Then I will do as you say, and have Cora
pay lyou the money.

“ will leave you with her, ski out, and
await you around the corner; but I s lall have a
detective at the other corner to besure you don’t
get away, for I do not trust you.

“ Serve me, get the money, and I will pay in
debts, for yours you do not care about, and
will 've you three thousand to clear out on.”

“ t is a bargain, Frank.”

“ Well, get the papers ready for the plot, and
have all ready for day after to-morrow, and
then all will go well.”

“But can your sister get the twelve thou—
' 9

" Yes, for she has plenty of money that old
fool gives her, and jeWelry enough to pawn and
make u the balance." ‘

“ Wi she pawn her jewelry, though?”

“She will,” and With this the arch-plotter
against a loving sister left his confederate in
crime, and returned home to read aloud to his
uncle and sister and play the part of hypocrite
toward both.

I

—-———

. CHAPTER XXXVI.
run urns“.

Tull next evening, according to appointment,

Frank anxiously sought his fister’s room. '
possessi of he woulghcolhe

into on t v papers, on 9 ex-

istence of which he had dad to rob her of
‘ mono ,iunder a pretense to buy them up, when

he di not himself know their whereabouts, un-
lem the old Jew had them to held against him.

It will be remembered that Alvan Judah had
sent these verypa rs to Cora, and that he had
found them, t in a handkerchief, in the
grounds of Oak Rid Farm, after the attack
uponhimthereof emanhehadthencap—

It will also be recalled to the reader that Cora
pocket of the man, whom
she had believed that she killed, a bundle of gaa
, which he had told her com or
rather, and which he demanded money to de-
liver up.
But the papers which she had taken roved
nottobetheonesshedesired, greatlyto or re-

1:.
8x‘ghe found them to be letters and a few t{apex-s
made known the i entllg
they fallen into the ha
f(ifstllieolixllcersoftheuiig‘vl.th we mum
e owever, sec 0 w c e
man, Macy Beiden, had held  to her vision,

ciamingto be the one which threatened to
’_ hold against Frank Keene.
When therefore, she received from Alvan

' - Judah the telltale papers of her brother’s fraud,

sh. knew, or thought that shedid, that she held

5' the proofs of his guilt in her hands, and no longer

worried about them.
She had not destroyed them, however, and,

i ‘i'when Frank came to her room, she showed them
H ,mhim

His face brightened, as he recognized the evi-
flcg,0f his guilt,and held them in his own

x But'this was nothis little game, and he said in

a CW tone:
,' “ on have been deceived, sis.”
' “ How so, brother?” ‘
' “Wh ,theman who sold {on these— By the
“way w 1: did you y fort emr’,
f  price ask was a lugs one, Frank,"
r,  , referring to the sum which the man
- mended for he papers when a prisoner at
Oak Ridge Cottage, though she disliked, even in
V such a case, to pin a deceptive part. ,, I
I“;W.ell, he has p yed sharp upon you, that is

‘1' How do you mean?” ,
' Where are not the originals.”

‘l What?”
“The ori nals are held b‘ a man who threat-
me and have come out. '

“He took them up to hold wer over me,
that he might regularly demand hush—money.
5 i‘These are simply copies, and some one has

  them to you, while the real proofs of my

.; actssremdangeroushau ”
' '. %l,i‘rauk!"criedCora.indeepdistress.
ell. sis, I am in‘ for it.” - . '

i

 

- .
._._...___.....

 

“ No, no, you shall not go to prison if I can

save you, brother.”
‘ “ But how can you ?”
l “I have those diamonds I once pawned, and
{ others, which uncle Gordon has given me.
; “Then I
‘ which I intended to fit myself up for spring and
summer with, but I will not mind that.”

“ You are too good, sis.”

“Frank, you will re my all I do for

that on were three months ago.”

the

‘6

pers; but when!"

o-morrow night. for I must arrange to get
the money, and uncle goes out to dinner, you
know ”

“ Yes; well, I will tell him, and see if I can-
not et him down a g or two in his demand.”

“ wish you coui , Frank.”

“ Would not uncle let you have the money, i
sis?" i

“ I would not dare ask him, for he would at :
once suspect it was for on, and he says now V
that I am foolish ever to ave protected you in ‘
your wild acts.” ‘

“ Oh, he’s an old fossil, and I don’t believe ever
was a young man,” and Frank went out for the
evening, while Cora paced her room, trying to
count up 'ust what sum she could raise.

She h tried in vain to find Alvan, the Jew,
for she felt keenly the pecuniary obligation she
was under to him, and the amount due him she
had safely laid away, ready to pay over at a :
moment‘s notice, should she discover him.

She felt assured that he had kept an eye upon
Frank, and had done what he could to reform !
him and she was grateful to him, and the more i
anxious to find him; but this, so far, had been ‘
im ible.

ing down into the library, she read to her
uncle for awhile, and, just as he retired, Frank }
came in and threw himself upon the lounge. l

Cora went on reading to herself for awhile, .
and at last tiring of it, arose to retire. |

Frank had d to also , one arm across
his eyes to shade them from t 0 light overhead.

As Cora glanced at him she started, for u n
his wrist her eyes fell upon something that 100 ed
strangeliy‘like a handcuif.

Stoop g ever she read the en ving thereon,
and then, as her brother to his feet, she

“ 0h, Frank! what does that mean?”

“ What does what mean?"

“ That manacle uson your wrist.”
Frank turned deasgdpale, but instantly check-
ing his emotion, he :

‘Sis, that is good joke on me, for I was in
the detectives’ ce to-ni t to see if I could not
put an officer after that show who holds those
papers, and frighten him a little; ~

While there I picked u this muscle, and
my curiosity 1 meta ti on.

‘ It mapped shut, an I will have to wait un-
til to—morrow to have it taken ofl", for the chief
only, has the secret of openin it.

is explanation seemed sa isfactory to Cora
and after examining the mauacle carefully and

 

remhrking u n the peculiar words on ved u
onit, she badgher brother -ni htaglxda re ' .
The next morning after ast she counted

over just what mone she had, and, not includ-
in what she had lai aside as due her unknown 5,
f and, who she was sure was Alvan Judah, she ‘
had about seventeen hundred dollars. I

This left her a large sum to raise with her jew- '
els, and counting them over, with an aggroxi—
mate value, she concluded she might t sum
needed, with the six hundred which it said

he had.

Puttiu one in dress and belt, and carry-

ing withfiler ick vail, she left the house, and
walkingtoMadison uarecalledahack.
. Givinflhe number Emanuel the pawnbro-
ker, she do the hackman drive thither and on
the way com letel concealed her face beneath
the thick vai she with her. L

Entering the shop, Cora went into the little
private box, partitioned 0!, and failed to see a
man hasth passinto the inner room.

It was van Judah, and calling the clerk to
him hastily. he said: '

' “Detainthat lady. inthe box as long as you .
can and then come to me for orders.” i

“’Yesh, sir,” said Burma and as he departed

from. the room Alvan Judah '

' Y- . .

Oneseoncame audanoiewashastil written
and sent by him to detective head 11 rs. ,
In the mean time Simon kept ckering with ;
an old Irishwoman abouts shawl, and then with l
a itlcegroh about the loan wanted on a silver ,
wa . ‘
After disposin of these two he appeared to l
suddenly notice t presence of Cora, and said ‘g
l

 

rung for a, messen-

 

“ I had time to wait, sir, and have come for I
another loan, and a large one, as you were gen- ;
arena to me before.” '

“ Veil, I vill do mine best, lady.

“ Vat vas it that you vish?"

“Here are the shine diamonds
before” , ' ‘

"‘1 vssmognisgtheuh” ‘ .

l
I

that you hndi

 

have solne fifteen hundred dollars 3

“ ell, sis, I will send the man to you with ‘

itely:
“ Veil, lady, I vas not see you fore.” ! for?’

I when he continu : .

    
   

! “ Now I wish to ask you if you have found out
j anything for me regarding the gentleman who
took them out of pawn for me, for you remem-
ber I called in and asked you to do so, promising
to pay you well for your services.” v
“ I remembers, lady: put I vas no able to find
i end for you.”
. “ I am very sorry, for I owe him debts I am
' most anxious to pay, as this one was by no means
his only kindness to me.

“ Now, I wish to leave these same diamonds
with on, and also these others.”

“ on vas llal.‘ some fine t’ings dere, mish.”

“ They are handsome, I know. and I wish to
pawn them, perhaps for a long time; but I will
pay the interest regularly upon them.”

Simon glanced over the collection. and his

l’

‘ well-trained eye told him within a few dollars of
‘ their worth.

“ How much vas you vants, mish?” he asked,
indifferclltly.

“ Ten thousand dollars.”

Simon gave a low whistle.

“ Are they not worth it?” asked Cora, falter-
inglv.
“ They vas doubtless cost so much, ven dey vas

‘ boughted; put I vili see, I viii see.”

He took the jewels into the rear office and laid
them on the desk before Alvan Judah, who had
overheard all that had been said.

" The governors vill look dem over, mish,”
said Simon. returning to the shop to look after
other customers.

Cora waited patiently, while Alvan Judah
run for another messenger and dispatched him
to t e detective head-qua rters with a note.

Then he tenched the bell upon his desk and
Simon pearai.

“ Say to the lady that you are sorry, but can-
not lend money on these things, as they resemble
certain jewelry that was stolen, and you have to
be cautious.” '

Simon departed with the jewe , and deliver-
ed them to Cora with Alvan J u ’5 message.

He saw her start, but did not penetrate t
vail’s thickness so as to see her grew very white.

“ I am sorry, sir, for it was very urgent.

“ I shall have to go elsewhere,” she said sadly.

Asshe turned to go the little bell tinkled in
the inner office.

“ Sa to the lady that she had better not take
those wels elsewhere, as they might get, her
int'lolgouble,” said Alivi'n J ,uet‘lialgh“ . CO

was e ve as re was
Mdmm.

She made no reply, and walked out to her
e. ‘

Entering it, she bade the driver go to another
pawnbroker’s. . ‘ 'f
“I must try it,” she muttered.

At another pawnbroker’s she showed her jew-
els and asked for a loan.

“ I vas told by messenger from bolice quarters
that I vas to take in no such t’ings,” said the
man behind the counter. - '

“ There must be some mistake, for these jew-
els are not stolen,” said Cora. ' l

“ I von’t take ’em in,” was the response.

“ DriVe to Brooklyn,” was her order to the
coaehman, and thither she went. -

'A wnbroker there also refused to
on t e ems, and, utterly dish Cora (r4
dered t 6 driver to returnto his stand where'she
had hired him. ‘

She dared
dlsma‘ fit the consequences, she returned home.

As 3 ascended the of her elegant home,
she suddenly discovered imou.

Had he followed her, she wondered, and come
to {guber- he would lend her the money she had
u 1

Turning toward him, she said, quickly:

“Well, sir?” '

“Mish, vas come to tell you  if
you vas villing to pay me for vat I knows;

“ Come into the house,” said,Cora and opens
ing the door with her pass-key, she led the young
Jew into the parlors.

“ Well, sir’ ’ ' .

“ You vas want to know t’e shentilmans that
gif‘ {,ou pack t’e diamonds?”

vs a loan

llfs.
“ ray you do so.” '
“ vii: vas it vent to you mishl”
“ What do you demand ’ .
“ Fifty tellers.” 1 ‘
“ Here it is,” and Qora handedthatsum out of
her t-book, adding: '
“ ow tell me.” v
“ His name vas Alvan. Judah, and he vas a
Hebrew shentilmans." '
“ And where does he live?"
“ He has rooms at t‘e Astor House.”

.“Ah, yes. I thank you; but can on not ar- ‘

range in some way to give‘ me, the can I asked
“ lro, I vould not touch them ‘ewels for mooch

momsh. .
“Good-tzy, mish,” and Simon, deli hted at
having m 6 dollars, was bac

“ You

vas not say how you find end Mr. Ju'
he“ - '
.“ o, I will not betray you, sir.” '

not take them eisewhere,iand, in \

.“I’vasapletotells youhisname,landverehe i

l

 

 

w

 

 

 
 

 

 

 ’.. ., ' glib/Ha,L’;:_.‘C;-.fi with;
 T11 _ * Jew Detective.

'23

 

“I thank you, mish,” and Simon departed,
wondering at Alvan J udah’s deep interest in this
Christian girl. and Why one who dwelt in a . -
ace, as it were, should have to pawn her -
monds.

 

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
A WHEEL WITHIN A WHEEL.

IT was too late, upon Cora's return home, for
her to enter upon any other scheme by which to
raise the money, which she beheved necessary to
so ve her brother from ruin.

Her uncle was going for a drive in the Park,
and sent up for her to accompany him, and has-
til y robing herself she went down and joined
him.

" Take a rapid run through the Park, William.
as I must et back and dress fora dinner-party,”
said Mr. keene to the (-oachman.

As the carriage was threading its way among
the many vehicles that crowded the grand drive,
and was on its way back, Cora’s e 'es suddenly
fell upon a. superb pair of elegant orses, draw-
ing a ver handsome open carriage.

A coac man and footman in livery were upon
the box, and upon the back seat were two per-
‘ K ‘ ‘ sons.
:  The one was an exquisitely beautiful ' l, with
; i black hair and eyes, dressed in rich ms, and
, the other was none other than Alvan Judah.

. L, Cora’s face flushed and poled.

His face also crimsoned, and he raised his but
as she bent low, a bright smile or greeting upon
his handsdme face.

“ Who was that beautiful girl i” asked Muri-
elle, apang of jealousyl in her heart. .

“One I metup in t e countr last summer,”
answered Alvan Judah, who been called for
by Murielle, to take him home to dine with her
father. .

“ Is she a J ewess?” came the question.

“ No, she is a Christian maiden, Murielle.”

“ Ab,” and the pang left Munelle’s heart.

And in the Keene carriage?

“ My child.” asked uncle Gordon, “who were
those people?”

 

 

 

g was the some of whom I have told you, as being
gia- ' arrested and tried for my act.”

3,“ “Indeed! hisnarne was Judah, you said?”

’I “ Yes, sir.”

i " He cannot be r to drive in such style.”

é ‘,‘ Ngh sir, his o‘rtunes have without doubt

. c .
lW§arried rich, I suppose, for he has the face
to win a girl.
“Was that his wife with him?”
“ No, sir,”said Corn, and yet she did not know
whims“ and d btlees his fiancee
‘9, n . ' on ,
ail: him.

as she is (hi-wing .
“Butthat ’manhasbeenmostldndto
, Cora-.an Iknow oahavewished to find
and thank him 9. also repay him, for he
paid the expenses of our father’s funeral, you
said and sent you a c k.”
u i know that he did, uncle, and I shall thank
him for I have heard that he boards at the As-
tor ouse.” I ~
“Well, call on me for the money, child; but
what do you think of Frank’s reformation?”
. “ I think that he has whollgoretormed, uncle.”
'“ I he so, but I fear the y.
, '“ Any ow, this trip of his to the West will put
, ‘ .31 ,

ontn .
“' he does well comes back sober and out‘of
dobt’I. win do well by him.

If not he will have to plod along on a salary ‘
and theincmne I allow him; but here we are at
11‘ me, and I must dress for dinner, as the Presi-
de twillbe there,and1have been out of the
couutr so long I Wish to meet a President of the
Uni States. ’ -

Cora went to her room and sat down to think.
' After awhile she went to her desk and momma

following note:
‘ - “Hon. Friday.

f4 3: ‘ gill! 13% Ma. vagzggagggmed of our
‘  ~ t cc 5'. 3 or
.. A ; 'yometothank you with m whole hmtfor
‘ w. 2 . all thatyouliave done for me an mine. ' x n

.- ‘ “Circumstances I cannot 8W“ culled me 1’0
not freg‘that prisoner you left in my charge at Oak

Ridge arm I

.‘ “A ,, n I recognized you one night when you
, ' broug t my errlnx brother homo, and I know much

. .v of your kind altos-ts in his behalf.
‘ " For 'mvseli'.l have to thank you for so kindly
ylng the undertaker’l bill, of my r father I
‘v, uneral expenses. for I traced the no lo deed to'
"flames lldid also the draft you sent me for live hun-’

red dol are '

" ~ “Still'more I have to thank you for the return of
. the dialnonds. which I was forced to pawn. aud in,
i. ‘ 1 all I am indebted to you seventeen hundred dollars,
,, . which Iinclose to you. fdr, as my father‘s brother
, i , v has now adepted me as his daughter, I am no longer

 

    

.3“

y 

 

 

'\f\‘

in II . r
l. . i “I have told myuncle of you kindness, but I
’have not betrayed the secret you ed me to keep,
when at Oak Ridge Farm, nor shall lipnd it has
been a great blessin to me to feel that am not the
, one who took the li e of that man.
 f  “As my uncle would like to in his thanks with
p a , mine for all your kindness, wll you not. at an edgy
,, . ‘ 4- day.,oall upon us, for I inclose my card with ~

 

0‘

“ The gentleman I met last summer, uncle; he .

'while Alvan Judah walked igui

 

'5 With esteem and friendship,
, . to com

      
 
   
 

This letter was di. trhed by a special mes-
sen er to the Astor ouse, with orders to 've it
to t c clerk to lockup in the safe for Mr. udah,
should he be absent.

Having canceled this debt, Cora went down to
dinner.

Her uncle was absent, but Frank had come
home.

He seemed a trifle nervous, and drank a little
more wine than had been his wont of late.

Cora, as soon as dimier was over, told him of
her non-success. and he became greatly excited.

Just at that moment a servant brought in a
card and handed it to Cora.

“ Mr. Barnes,” she said, inusingly; “ I do not
know him.”

“ It is my man, sister; but what can we do ?"
cried Frank.

“I will see him.”

And Cora swept into the parlor, to find there
a stout man, with a full-bearded face and rest-
less eyes.

He bowed in an awkward way at Cora's en-
trance, and with a slight bend of the head in ac-
knowledgment, the maiden said:

“ You are Mr. Barnes?"

“ Yes, miss.” .

“You have come to trade some paper you
hold, which is of a detrimental character?”

“Yes, miss.”

“ How came you by this paper?”

“Your brother signed the names, and w0uld
have been found out; but I took up the paper
and id my money for it.”

“ nd you are out the sum you paid “.1”

“Yes, miss; and the interest. ” v

“ How much in all do on want?”

“ Twelve thousand do] rs."

“ It is a large sum, sir.”

“ What I paid out, the interest for nearly two
ears, and the bonus I should have, miss. for
ee ing (iuiet and riskin my money, make up

in a jus twelve thousan , no more, no less.”

“ I cannot give you the mone to night.”

“ Must have it, miss, for I hgn’t been treated
just right by your brother.”

“ Give me two weeks to pay you.”

1:90, miss” ..

canno y ou sooner.

“ Give me gougity.”

It 

And Cora remembered her diamonds.

“ Wait,” she said.

And leaving the room, she hastened up—stairs.

As she did so Frank glided in.

“Barney, you have made yourself look a hun-
dred pounds heavier, and. your disguise is per-
fect, while you play your well; but we can-
not fit the money. as on now, thou h the dia-
mo are worth near y as much. P come out
an joinvydn soon; but don’t try any game, for
gadget two detectives outside watching you—

1

And Frank ran out of the room.

A moment after Cora entered, and handed to
the retended Mr. Barnes the jewels.

e examined them critimlly and said:

“ They are not worth the sum. miss; but
show your ood intentions, and I’ll take them as
securitIy. cod-night, miss; two weeks from to
night 1] be here.” . -

And Barney Scott departed.

As he descended the stone- stag, two men
came up and joined him, one of em remark—
m :

My man, we are oflicers, and we are to keep
you under eye until we at further orders”

Barney swore inwsr y but made no reply,
w ' a:zuletly along. .

Soon ter a. quick step was heard behind them
and Frank a

“All right,”my moo; r11 look after him now; -

here is yougdpay.” .

He hand them seine money, and then he and
Borne walked ofl' together.

Ast eydid so a man suddenly cameup and
joined the detectives.

It was Alvan Judah, and he said, addressing
the officers: ~

“ Follow those men and find out where they
gaging full particulars, ; then report to me at my

The detectives started off on their W 'on,
etly away, a
is fine face asks

I i

stran e ression visible upon
Magnum: theustreet lamp.

' CHAPTER XXXVIII. O
WHAT WAS SEEN BY A NIGBT~WATCHIR
CORfigeidtht' feel imuch relllief fromlshfr dig
tress, r vmg venu er ewe , or
knew that a day ogf paymgnt miist come, and
how she would be able to then pay the large sum,
she could not tell. - ‘ ‘*‘

Shedooked over the bogus Ea rs, and an ex-
t a

pression came upon her face said M1113 =
“ I Will not V9 them up, nowI hay}; them.
“No I will estroy ” ' '

She  the pac into the fire as she
spoke, and then began to walk hound fro.
Presently her maid came in. and into
the‘iittle dressinga'oo adjoinin ; but Cora did
not appear to notice er, and w e walking to
andfrobeantoniusealoud., . n I
“ I (soul even commit a ' t sin,” she mused,
“tohide mybrothsr‘s .. ' , ,

   
 

r.
l‘x/

 

  
 

. memes

“ Oh! how fearful it would be for him to have
to go to rison.

‘ But 0 shall not.

“ Uncle Gordon I know would refuse to give
me the money. if I asked it, for he would at once
feel that it was for Frank, and I know that he
does not like him.

“ If I could only get it from him in some way,
for I must get my diamonds back, or the secret
will come out, and the public know all, for that
horrid man will not spam- my brother.

“ Ah me! just to think that uncle Gordon has
made a will in my favor, and leaves me his im-
mense fortune, and dyet, while he lives, I cannot
get a few thousan s to save my brother from
prison.

“ He has added a codicil to the will about
Frank, but has not signed it, so if he died sud-
denlv, brother could (fat nothin from him.

“ But Frank shoul never su er where I have
money, and I wish I could help him now.

“ 1 es, and I will, in some way or other for I
must, or disgrace comes u n us and Fran
to rison, and that is too orrible to think 0 .”

o calm her excitement Cora went down-
stairs and sat down to play upon the piano, when
suddenly the door-bell was run violently.

Fearing some harm had bef en Frank, Cora.
ran to the door herself and threw it open.

There were several men coming up the steps
with a burden between them, and a can'iage
stood at the curb.

“ Oh, tell me who it is!” cried Cora, dreading
the worst.

“ It is your uncle, Miss Keene; he is ill, hav-
ing been seized with a slight stroke of a plexy
at the dinner-table,” said one of the gent emen.

Cora called up the servants, had her uncle‘s
rooms put at once in readiness, sent for the near-
est physician, and also for their family physi-

cian, and acted with a coolness that won the

gdnu‘ration of those who had borne Mr. Keene
ome.

“ It is not so had, my child,” said Gordon
Keene, after the physician had pronounced upon
his case.

“ I will soon nurse you back to health, uncle."
said Cora, and from that moment she devoted
herself to him.

As Cora did not like her maid, not finding her
competent as such, and she had been a nurse in
a hospital, the woman was engaged to look after
the invalid, for he was very peevish, and would
not allow Frank and the house-servants to come
near him.

ThiscausedCoratobeahnbstoonstantlywith
him, and it began to tell upon her, for her face
beoamzpale and her eyes heavily.

One ght she sat up until very late, and them
givingnher uncle his medicine, went u to her
room

steaiafew honrs’sl , firstt the
nurse to watch by him, and all her if she
wasneeded

The sun was just rising when she was awak-
ened with a start by thenurse entering her mom.
“ Miss, our unc e is dead. and the medicine
last I know was not whathe should

ve.”

“ What do you mean?” gasped Cora, sprmg‘ -

ing from her bed and confronting the nurse. ,
‘Imeanjustwhatlsa ,miss: thatyou ave

your uncle poison last nig t, for I saw you 0 it,
that you mi ht get his money now. ”

Cora not speak, but swayed to and fro,
while her face bemme livid.

Then, with a shriek, she fell in a swoon- upon
the floor. '

on gave '

When she recovered oamoio‘usneas she found~

that there were several mans in her robin.
Instantly she asked w at it all meant, and the

physician in attendance told her abruptly: ‘
“ You are accused of the murder of your

uncle.” , .
“0b,God!” groaned Cora, and she covered

herfaco withher hands foraninstant and then: _

asked: -
“ Where is my brother?” ‘
“ He is in his room under surveillance.” '
' “Whyishe ed?”
“Itisthoug thestthatheshmfldb'e.”‘
“ And these men, who are they?”
“ Officers of the law.” '

Cora shuddered, and rein. into silence.  if.“  3

the words broke from her ips:

“Heaven have mercy upon me, for I am ut- . “ '

terly lost.”

Several hours passed own and it was. ' ',
y, repair.- V

ed that a post mortem exami _ of
Keane’s body showed large quantities of. potent:
in the stomach.

Thenurse hadsaid that she saw Cora come 

into the room about three o‘clock, bearing in 

her hand a bottle, w was

one the invalid’s medicine was in. .
She had walked toward the bed, evidently not

seeing her, as she lay back in the ow m an

easy—chair and bending over the invalid had"
awakened him and given "him two fun]: 

of the medicine from the bottle she had
with her

The invalid had coughed severelde 
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Upon examination it was found that the bot-
t'e left there was one from a medicine-case which
Doctor Keene had had, and which was stowed
away in a lumber-room.

It bore the mark of “Deadly Poison,” and was
the same drug that Doctor Keene had commit-
ted suicide with.

Such was the story told by the woman who
held the place of nurse, and had seen all that
had occurred.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
AGAIN IN THE TOILS. .

THERE was mourning and despair in the grand
home of the Keenes, for not only had death fall-
en there with its fearful stroke, but it was said
that a murder had been committed, that Gordon
Keene had been poisoned by his niece, who was
to be his heiress.

It was hard to believe, and yet the evidence
and causes seemed to be so conclusive that the
maiden was led away to prison, and the beauti-

, ful belle became the inmate of a cell in the city

'ail.
J Society was crushed b the’olow, and men and
women in fashionable 1i 6 stood a hast, while a

' shudder seemed to pervade every ea“: in high

office

and low life. v

It was several days after the stroke of illness
which had rostratcd Mr. Keene that Alvan J u-
dah sat in llS back office at the shop, looking
over his letters.

People were going in and comin out of _the
sho seeking loans, and Simon and is assocmtc
cleri wore kept busy. '

Suddenly a. young man sprun
that drew u at the door and ashed into the
shop, instan y darting into the rivate box
where Cora had been a few days be ore.

He was a dashing-looking outh, and seeing in
him a valuable customer, imon neglected an
old no to look after him.

“ Ve , sir, v’at is it?” said Simon.

“ I want some money.”

“I thoughted so.”

“I wish all you can let me have.” I

“ That vas a goat deal, for we vas have blenty
of‘monish.”

“ Yes; you Jews are all rich ”

“ I vas vera '

out of a cab

r, mme fri’nt; but v’at haf you
to porrow momsh on?”
i There.” I .
And the young man displayed a number of
jewels.
“ Ah!” said Simon. «
“ They are very valuable.”
“ Yes' how much on vants?”
“ Twc ve thousan dollars: not a penny less.”
“ I vas see.” ‘
And Simon took the jewels and entered th
placin them before Alvan Judah.
“I-Ial who rought these?”
gentlemans vas vish to get twelve

t’ousand to rs on them, sir.”
“ Describe him.” ' _
“ He vas a. pretty young mans, vith hair like
and—”

it
80“ Tell him he will have to wait until you send
to Sthe halal}: for the moneyi.” ring“) 1 to

imon 'sappeared, an s ghasti y
his feet Alvan Judah entered) an adjoining room
where he took from a shelf a bundle.

In a short while he came out again, but so
metam hosed no one would have recognized
him, for 6 had cha into the old Jew who
had on two occasions at Frank Keene.

The bell tinkled and Simon came at its call,

' but showed no surprise at seeing his employer’s

' v the door, Alvan Judah arose an

- surmised, he it was, sunk do
‘ _ pain out to bin» and fairly trelnbled.

  

flt-out. .

“Ask the gentleman to come in here and get
his money. ”

Simon did so, and as the youn man entered
greeted him
with: _

“Veil, mine yoong fri’nt, ve vas meet again,
don't ve’!” , , .

An exclamation of 3 rise broke from the
lips of the young man an he turned us though
to‘fly but the Jew ed out: .

“That vas a spring lock on the door, mine
fri’nt, and you don’t vas get out if you vant,‘ so
sit right, avay down and ve haf a leetle talks to-

‘ der’

 Keene, for as the or has doubtless
into the chair

“ tYegu vas haf my bracelet, mine fn‘nt?”

Silently he held u his arm, bored his wrist,
Ind showed the steel d. , .

“ And with that on you vas steal your sister’s
diamante?” , ,

“ They are noltwmylsistfr’s and I did not steal
them ” gasped t on ri . .
“ oong mans, do ylhu think I vas a fool?

.“ Those diamonts vas ‘your sister’s, and on
[vas gone wrong again an owe more gamb ing
mono . 4
“ Dhn‘t you vas den it, for I vas know all
apoud you, as on shal see. i .
a. leptle choke on your goot sis-

“ You be? t d mit
tor to r ou vas 0 wrong , some
ba’py, andhaveto f some modish or goes to:

“veil, you got your fi-i’ut,

  

ey Scott vas
ifs

n his names, to help you, and ‘he dresses 'hliuse

  
  
 

 

l he said,

up like a fat mans and wear sum peards, and he
gif bapers to your sister which both of you haf
wrote, and she if to him these jewels to bolt
for security for wo weeks, and you haf come to
pawn ‘em.

“ You vas see I knows eberydings, don’t I
vas !”

Frank Keene groaned, for he had not the
power of speech.

Then the one whom he supposed to be an old
Jew continued:

“ vas but my eyes on you, as I vas warn
you. ‘

“ I vas see you join your fri'nt. and you had
dwo tedu-tives to vatch your fri‘nt.

“ Veil, the tcdectivcs vas mine mans, and they
vas follow you and find end all dings.

“Then I vas see your trim. and he vas very
scared and tells me all aboud it, and for tell the.
truth I vas gif him some monish, and he vas go
Vest pretty quick; but if I vas rant him for
vitness he vas come back pretty quick too.

“ You see I vas a tcdective myself,”ond open—
ing his coat he showed several gold badges, on
one of which Frank saw “ Special of Secret
Service,” on another “ U. S. Marshal,” and upon
the third, “ Special City Police.”

How the sup ml old Jew managed to hold
these three valuable badges. Frank Keene did
not care to inquire; but he seemed to tremble at
the Bower he possessed, and said pitifully:

“ h, sir; spare me!”

“ Veil, I don’t vant to be cruel, mine fri’nt, so
I vas dry you vonce more.”

“Thank on; oh, thank you.”

“ V’y di you vant to get this monish?”

“ To pay a. gambling debt.”

“Who vas you owe?”

“ A man by the name of Jackson, on Houston
street.”

“ How mooch ?”

“ Two thousand.”

“ V’y you vants twelve t’ousands?”

“ Because I wished to give Barney some mo-
ney to go awa West wit , and get rid of him,
as I was afrai( of him.”

“ V’at else?”

“I wanted a few thousand to take on a trip to
California, above what my uncle was to give me,
that I might have a good time.” v

“ I vas see; pumou vas don‘t haf no goot
time as you vas th' , mine fri‘nt, for you vas
not to go Vest, as it vas a pod place for you.

“ You vas sta
mine ,I gif you, ee up your vork, an
see if you turn oud t is time all rights.

“ Now on vas go, right avay quick.”

“But ose diamonds?”

“ Mine fri’nt, they vas safer mit me, so I keeps
them a leetie time.‘

“ But you havo no right to them.”

“Mine fri’nt, I see you vas not satisfied, so I
viii shust take you over mit t’e brison.”

“ For God’s sake, no! I am content!” cried
Frank, in alarm. .

And he hastened out of the office while Alvan
iligdah took up a sheet’of paper and wrote a few

es. .

“Simon, take this to Mr. Jackson, a gambler
on Houston street.” '

Simon departed, and Alvan Judah again took
up his pen and wrote as follows:

“ Asroa HOUSE.

“ Will Miss Keene pardon me for again intruding
upon her With a letter. when I do so to forward to
her the dlamouda which she was so unfortunate as to
place in the hands of a villain? . '

" The pore, of so serious I. nature, which I for-
warded 0 her were the originals, and those which
she received from one Barnes were but copies.

“ It was a plot to deceive her and rob er, for the
fewels were taken to a pawnbroller to'~ . but. be‘

ng on the watch, I secured them, and with the cost
of just. two thousand dollars.

“ The man Barnes has gone West. audit is for the
welfare of Mr. Frank Keene that it is so.

"May I ask that Miss Keene keep a watch upon
her brother. as the reformation is not yet com late.
and to advise that her uncle does not yet se him
West for It is best to give him a trial yet awhile

" '1‘ echo 0 of two thousand dollars on the dia-
monds is an o. as that was the exact sum paid out
and because I am Well aware that Miss Keene woul -
accept no pecuniary favor at mg hands. and is able

dIvill

to padv the s m; but let her to 9 her own time in
Equi sting e indebtedness to the writer of these
nos

draft sent, which who the correct amount. and as
disguise is further useless, admit that I sought to
re her some return in my power for her noble act
guild one who was then a most unfortunate indi-
v u .
"As it will be in my power to still serve Miss

Keene. I shall continue to do so. and as she has so ;

kindly asked me to call, I shall give myself that
pleasure at an early day. With esteem
“Aunt Jenn."

When Simon returned Alvan Judah told him
to carry the letter he had just written, along
with the diamonds, whitfi he had neatly folded
up, to the residence of Miss Keene early the fol.
lowing morning and to deliver them to her in

rson. ,

A moment after the gambler Jackson came

lie was a hard-featured man, rough and un-

couth. ,
“ You Jew?”

  
   

  
  

  

motor the to come and see you,

here, wear that pracelet of,

. I
“ In conclusion, let me thank Miss Keene for the

“ Yes, mine fri‘nt,” answered Alvan Judah,
still carrying out his disguise.

“ My yoong fri‘nt, Mr. Keene vas gif me some
securities for some monish, and vish me to pay
you: how mooch vas it!”

“ Two thousand dollars."

“ Haf you his due-bill. mine fri’nt?”

“ Yes; here it is.”

“ Veil, (lore ish your monish, and now let me
tells you von t’ings. mine fri‘nt. if 1you vas let
that gentiemans blay boker in your lace vonce
more. I viii haf you up for Vol) swindler mans.”

“ “'hat have you got to do with it, Jew.”

“I vas hat to do vith it just v‘at I say, and
don’tJ'ou forgit your memories spend it.”

An the Jew threw open his coat and exhibit—1
cd bis badges.

“ Fury! you! have got authority! I cave,
.‘ J cw!" _

“ You vas as vise a man as Solomon.

“ Now you vas go, put don‘t you forgets.”

The gmnblcr left the office, and Alvan Judah
took off his disguise, and as that was one of his
nights to visit Emanuel Gaspar and Murielle, he
went up to the stable where he kept his team of
spanking bays and drove out to the place where-
he ever received the warmest welcome.

 

 

 

CHAPTER XL.
THE PRl.)OFS.

\VHEN Alvan Judah drove into town the next
morning from the residence of Emanuel Gaspar,
his face was stx-rn and sad.

The old Hebrew had hinted to him that he
would be gihd to see him marry Murielle, and
then had told him plainly that his daughtcr
loved him with all her heart.

The young Jew seemed pained to hear this,
and then said: V

“ Mr. Gas r, no more beautiful maiden than
Muriellc di I ever see, or one that has a truer,
nobler character.

fell upon me, I would havcd loved her most de-

I voted]

y.
“ But I must confess to you, sir, that I love
infiother, and that other is one who saved my
l e.

she is a Christian; but this does not prevent my

loving her, though it raises a barrier to my to -

ling her of my love and askinglher to marry me.
‘ Tell Murielle just what I ave told

gidfay to her that to me she is as a dar' sis-
r.

With the memo of this confession’in his
mind, Alvan Juda felt strangely sad as he
drove in to the office. '

Arriving there he was met by Simon, who
seemed greatly excited.

“ I took the letter and package sir, put the
bohcemens took ’em from me, as tie lady vas a
brisoner for kill' her uncles.”

Such Were the t tidings of the murder of
fiesta Keene that reached the ears of Alvan

u . .

, He seemed hardlyto have the power of mo-
tion, after he sunk into a seat and Simon ran
on withlthe horrible story as it had reached his
ears, and ad ' a few variations of his own as
he saw how deep y it moved his employer‘to lis—
ten to him.

that sent

Springing to his feet, with an ene
Simon ying into the shop, Alvan udah cried
in his deep voice that made his clerks tremble:

“ It is false! false as perdition! She never
committed deed so foul !”

But, with all his confidence in the innocence
of Cora Keene, Alvan Judah was forced'to bear

broughttotrial. ,
He had passed weeks in trying to solve’ the

myIstery'. . .
ti e had spent his gold freely in hiring detec-
ves. I
He had busied himself day and night strivin
to find some clew that would point to the guilg
of the brother, that the sister. might be saved.
He visited the fair prisoner in her cell, and
tried to force from her lips that she was guilt-
lcss, but not one word for or against herself
; would Cora Keene utter. , 1
Then Alvan Judah engaged the very best legal
talent, and said: '
“ Save her and then name your rice.” 
, The day of trial came, and Cora eene. white-
. faced, haughty and silent, faced her accumu
. It was a tlm scene, there in that court-
! room, and a silence like unto death rested upon

 

Frank Keene was there, but not as a risoner.
N o evidence against'him
prove that he was even an ry to the mur-
l der, though he stood in a most unenviahle situa—
, tion, as it was said, that .for his sake his sister
. haghcomnutted this fearful crime.
e
i pale, and seemed most nervous.
He did not look at his sister, but kept his eyes
I down as he sat near her. '
I The Prosecutin
to be influenced y ‘a beautiful face, and ap-
peared determined to make out a case of willful
I murder against-the fair prisoner. ‘ ‘

 

Hecpenedbyshowinghowshehadtakenhufigw '

/

“ Had I met her before the misfortunes that ‘

“She is not of our people, or of our creed, for,

on, sir, .

the most damning evidence against her when _

 

 

\

ound,to I

young man looked haggard. was V917, "

Attorney seemed not a mu

-’.

- ... -. ._,... m. -9;

 

   
  
  

  

m-..

 

“ I . . . ( “mfg:  Amiga 3 w. in;

The I J ew Detective.

 
   

‘25

 

man life one evening, when out riding near her
farm home, and seemingly without sufficient-
provocation.

Then she had kept her act a secret untila poor
Jew was nearly sacrificed upon the gallows for
the murder, and then, conscience-smitten, she
had come to his rescue, caifessed her deed, and

 became a heroine.

The father, Doctor Keene, had died under
most suspicious circumstances, and a line left
from him stated that he had committed suicide.
~ H nd he done so, or had his daughter gotten rid
I of him for some purpose?

Moving back into her elegant home, throu h
the generosity of an old rich bachelor uncle, s 0
had become the heiress of that old man and
then, watching her chance, when he was lying

.  . ill, and all would believe he had died from the

stroke of apoplexy he had received, she had end—

 

 

 

ed his life by giving him poison.

"_. It was said that she had killed him to save her

' brother, who had gotten into some gambling

scrapie, and had to have a large sum at once to

pa ' is debts. or be minul. v ‘

t seemed that she could have gotten that
money without killing her uncle.

But no. the witness} who had been the maid

i of the accused. had heard her young,r mistress
talking aloud in her room,'and heard her speak
of the fortune that waste be hers at the death
of her uncle.

She had heard her 'say many compromising
things, and soon after that the uncle was

brought to his home suffering with a stroke of

apo ) exy. ,

. ade a nurse to the sick man, this same maid
had, soveral nights after, seen her mistress
come b night into her uncle‘s room.

, She ad SWept into the room in the semi-
darkness, bearing a bottle in her hand.

She had awakened the invalid and adminis-
tered to him a dose of deadly ison, he believ-
ing it to be the medicine which his physician
had left for him to take, and so trusting her that

 he would allow no one else to serve him.

.- I Leavi the fatal bottle behind her, it told the

>1“ - ~ ‘ story of rcrime, for the nurse, . ‘t-

, ing no Wrong, had not drea ed da er, and only

T realized what had been done when 5 e found the

:1. poor old man dead.

An analysis of the invalid’s stomach had
r shown the poison that was in the bottle, and
‘ , that bottle had been taken from a medicine-case

kept in a luggage-room, to which only the pris-
oner had the ey.

The next morning apackage of diamonds had
come to her, with a letter, which implied that
she had iven the jewels to hush up some latrless
deed of er brother.

It further went on to prove‘ that she felt, to
save the famil fromaome dishonor, throu h her

't brother's act, heprisoner had taken the its of
= her uncle, not expectin , as he was ill, it would
be suspected foul play been done, and, once

.in possession of his fortune, her inheritance, she

could ward oil‘, with her money, the impending

blow upon their name.

Such were the charges against r Cora, as
made by the prosecution, and it certainly looked
as though she must' be guil . ‘

mummesses for the efense were brought
up. k Keene told his story of how he had
gotten into trouble for money, and had appealed
to his sister, and she had promised to help him

‘ out. _
3 in: testimony was rather against the prisoner,
 and he was withdrawn, but under the rosecu,

 , tipn’s‘ ewes-examination he damaged 1- case
 5 greatly. _, ,_ . '
~ * AlvanJu , was then ordered to the Witness-
staud, and in testimony he gave the lie to
Cora‘a having ed the man in the woodland
near Oak Ri ge Farm, and gave his proofs for
so believing, _ .
And more, he said that he would yet produce

the man who had killed the one in the woodland,
. f. ,. which would at least remove from Miss Keene
,  flienlur of havin taken human life.

w ;. ' ‘2 ’ .. ‘iAllthat hesai madeas. im ’on,and

»  't "h the crossexammn on .3, m to
‘I ~ .‘ a . 7 trap , eturned the laugh on the gnome
, j  eve  ' , and frequently, before he could

;,   ‘ choc , threw in evidence of an impel-taut

“ , character, such as would im h the character

,  -'1, of the nurse,’whom he sud only Charged with,

' qctinginthe any of some one else. . I ,

But, try as ey might to haven verdict of not

i  .

 
 

. V the face of all the evidence a 'nst her, and the
n  - jury, aftera few momenta’de 'beration brought

 

" m a. verdict of guilty, witha recommendation
‘ ’ to the court for mercy. I
Cora. Keene-received her sentence without the
uiver of a muscle, which was. that she should
9 imprisoned for If fe. -‘ I
.. I - ———--— 1
- CHAPTER 'XLI.
J I on rat: nxon‘r max

~ THE moment that the sentence was
on Cora Keene, Alvan Judah arose and left

     

... ,Y ,
V.

v. T‘ ‘ ' -

i, t .

   
 
  
 

“P-
the

courtroom.= .

1 His face was pale. hard and haggard.
- ’ulAghede hewrotealine and handedit
' to Frank > >

 ‘ a. _ p
 An hour after, as the can Jew paced his'
’ .rooms in the Astor House Keene entered.

r A. ’
" J . A
I ' t . ,

  

. '_ ‘ guilty for Corinthey could not accomplish it in 3

I superintendent, .“ butv has

“You said that you Wished to see me here,
sir?” he said, in a low tone.

“ Yes; sit down.

“Did you speak with your sister after her sen-
tence’!”

“Yes, sir.”

“ W'hat did she say ?"

“That she was content to bear the burden put
upon her.”

“ When does she start to prison?’

“At once, I believe."

“And you? ’

“ I shall go “fest.”

“ Have you the money?”

“ My sister said she would give me money
with which to go and start aranch out in No—
braska.”

“ “'here will she get it from ?"

“ She has some money and some personal ef—
fects she wished me to dispose of and use the
money.“

“You will use nothing, for the house and all
shall be. left as it is.

“ I will give vou five thousand dollars to go
West, where I have some land, and you can buy
cattle and start anew in life.

“ Should you need more money in your busi-
ness, write me and I'will send it to you.

“ I am to take charge of the estate of your
late uncle, and will keep you informed as to the
course the courts will take re rarding it.

“ Now, my advxce to you, r. Keene, is to get
out of this city at once, and when you are ready
come to me and I will rive you full particulars
and a draft on a bani: in Omaha for the mo.

ue .”
lgrank Keene seemed like one walking in a
dream.

He was anxious to et awatyiand the next
( 1

night (33»:er for the 'est, bi ng Alvan J u-
dah g —by with tears in his eyes and wringing
his hand hard as he said: .

“ You are my only friend.”

Two days later Alvan Judah started westward,
and his destination was Chicago.

Arrivin will that city. he sou ht u the firm
,who had en the lawyers o Booger Austin
Travers and held a long conversation with

em. -

‘ Then the two men who had gone as crew of the
yacht when the doctor had accompanied Rich-
ard Denmead were found, and a vessel was char-
tered and they were placed on board with two
others and a‘skipper to man her.

As passengers went Alvan Judah and one of
the la ere.

Straig tfor the little haven where Denmead and
the others left the yacht, the craft sailed, and
coming to anchor, a boat was taken and days
were passed in searching the shores up and down
for leagues. , "
» This resulted in finding a boat ata small ham-
let, which the two men asserted was the identical
one in which the skipper and his passengers had
left the yacht in. ‘ -

Close inquiry, aided by aliberal giving of gold,
caused it to be remembered a number of poo-

 

1 pie that three men had come here in that heat

' one night, and that one of them had seemed to
i be v ill, and his companions said that he was
‘ crazy rom suffering, as they had been wrecked,
, and had been for days drift]? upon the lake.
i Finding that the men ha given their boat
away and taken passage there in a schooner
bound to Duluthr, returning .to eir yacgi‘h the
- Jewish detective andattorney 3a ed for nth.

They were told that they would doubtless
catch the schooner there. '

This they were so fortunate as to do, and the
captain, in answer to their inquiries, said:

‘ Ah, yes, gents, I reeomembers the three of

em A '

“.One was as crazy as a iii-on. and t’others was
lmigglgykiudandgoodtoh ,andwaswithhim
con nt.

“ The paid me well for my narvices, and '
as how”t 'ey intended ter take the luny to a mad-
0 ,

indi that the three had taken a back from
Duluth, lvan Judah dismissed the" acht, and
with the attorney hired a vehicle an still kept

To fit. mu they~trackcd thein, and there
learned that the keepers of the lunatic had taken
him to a mad-house in the ,State of Wisconsin,
, and which was an, institution of a private kind,
endowed 1) some men of wealth,

Thither hey went, and u n impairing“ the
3 superintendent were told t t he 'had a oung
l man there who had been brOught there 1y 5
year before, and who was a dangerous lunatic. ‘

He had an idea not he was a physician. and
seemed, sad, to thoroughly conversant on
car . ry and medicine, but his. keepers told him
to ware of him, and that he had been very
da rous in hismdness. - ~

mad,” continued the

. “ eswears thatheisnot
vast wealth in Chi~

cage, and was robbed by his keepers, who

tend that he is alunatic‘; butof course we”;
no heed to such stories and his brother. r.
Denmead, paid 11: mod liberally for the year’s
careof him, andpromisedtosendmthisecond

, on the trail.” .

 

   
 
 

    

 

     
  
 

‘ i \

     
 
 

replied Alvan Judah.

and its furnitnmm all mvenled,and 

 

year’s pig in advance, and only yesterday. I ne-
ceived a otter from asking what. was. due
and  health 'mm 

, .‘fWemetagaininfllegWfiM‘

“My dear sir. you have done a great wrong,
for that poor patient is just what he says he is,
a rich man and a physician, and he was robbed of
sixt ' thousand dollars b ' his pretended brother.

“ d us at once to t e room of Doctor Tra—  _,
vers.” 1 

This was done, and a thin, haggard man ' ‘
greeted the visitors, while his eyes dimmed with
tears when Alvan Judah told him they had come
to save him from a living death.

\l’hilc Austin Travers returned by easy stages
to Chicago with the lawyer, Alvan Judah. with
the address of Richard Demand in his pocket,
went to Colorado in search of that worthy.

Inquirv convinced him that a man who called
himself Denver Dick was the one he wanted. and
the daring Jewish detective mounted a horse
3nd rode out to a ranch where the one he sought
' welt.

It was after nightfall when Alvan Judah ap-
proached the ranch.

A bright light was burning within and he
heard voices in conversation. A

Dismounting. he crept up to the door and lis»
tened.

"I tell you, Red, we have got to push back. u
East and try some other game, for we are dead
broke,” said one voice. - ~ I '

“ I don’t want to go East, Dick,” answered the
one addressed.

“ “'ell, what are we to do i”

“ I’ve got an idea we can go back to the asy- ' «
lum, git the doctor out, and make him write a. -
lie to Chicago, send it by you, draw on his law- “ ,L , 
I31ers war for abig sum, and give it to us to let . l. '

m1 go. , a

“ He will do it sure! It is the ve thing, and
after we get the money we will knoc him in the
head or ut a bullet through him.”

“ That sit, and I’m glad you wrote the letter
to me if he is there.”

d J ust'then Alvan Judah gave a knock upon the ‘ 
oor.

“ Who are you?” cried a voice, the door

openin a few inches.
night’s lodging, pard,”

 
  
  
    
    
   
    
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
    
    
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
  
    
 
  
   
   
   
   
    
   
   
 
 
   
  
     
   
  
  
  
  
   
     
    
  
   
   
 
     
     
   
      
     
   
  
   
   

“ rieud who wants a
“ Are you alone?”
H 9’

“ Come in.”

The speaker was not Richard Denmead, but
his comrade in crime, while over at a table in. a.~
corner satthe man whom Alvan Judah now know .
to be the one whose name would answer to the 7.
initials “ D. D.” .

As he stepped across the threshold the Jewish
detective dealt the burly ruflian who had admit- ‘
tedhim a blowin the face that laidhim flat upon _
his back, and placin one foot upon him to hold ,
him there, be level his revolver at his com- ' ,. .
panion, and said sternly and in aringing voice: -.

“Denver Dick, {in are my prisoner.

“Up with your ads or I kill you!”

\

CHAPTER XLII.
r macro to corms.

WE left Judah, the Jew in a situation of con- 7
siderable don r, for he had just daringly in—
vadedtheca oftwodespeutemcnand
broughtthemtoba . . , ‘

He felled'thercd- ruflnn who had acted)
as the yacht’s ski , having had some set. ex- ..
memo and wi 8 foot upon histhroot‘heid 

‘ at his mercy, while he covered Richard Den. ’
mead with his revolver. . r .

It was a bold thing to’do,.to risk the clnneen
of one in two; but Alvan Judah knew no such :
word as fear. \ - -

He was determined topunaided, run his enemy "'
toearth,andhedid so. . ' 

The man whohad called himself Richard Den.

[andthen I knownon the
Denver Dick was a deeperado to be dreaded.
He, however, was one who loved life, and a

 

thaco oftheJewherusedhishands

abovehishead with alacrity. 7 
“Comeherel” was the next order.and 

val-Dick ommwalkin uptohisco. ‘
Todisarm ‘ seizes

beltand bindhimsecurel

aminute forthenimble

who then performed
service forthe Med, halfchokedrumn
at his feet. ; .
“You know me sir?” saidAlvun me
draing DenverDick,ashe Mammal,
gazed upon hisnrisonem where they set upon the

floor. . ,
A lamp burned uponthe table and thecahin “

little comfort for those who had, a. year More, K
stolenaixtythoumnddollars. ‘ ' " y
“ I do not know you,” answered Denver‘Diolt,

“  knowthat you speak falselyin 

‘ '“Letmc refresh vour memory, . -"

“We met one night in a roadway in
Enghngéiggdvioodhndwhemama‘n;  .,
one I wasnearl  , 
wéfiuésadycmmd tb‘havo «we ‘ ,
ache had tried torobher; 

 
   
   

 
 

    
   
 
    

   
      
   
 

   

 
 
  

,/«g

 

 
  

   
  
 
   
   
  
  
   
 
    
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
     
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
     
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
   
 
   
  
  
   
   
  
 
   
  
    
  
 

lariat over the beamkdrawin

‘ embroidered those for me long ago.”

,' 01!, but watc

" ‘held

" whole

' ' much about Frank Keene, and how
' his sister’s love for him to fl.

xhisgamblinlg debts and ex vagances put him
in ' tp ace. ' ’

26

 

14.: .v
.  r .

The Jew Detective.

 

Farm, when you attacked me one night, and I
made you a prisoner.

“ We‘ met again on the highway into New
York city one night when you again attacked
me, but you esca me.

“ We now meet again, and if you do not tell
the whole truth, you will never meet me or any
one else again on this earth.

“ Remember, I know that Miss Keene did not
kill the man in the woodland, I picked up the

apers you dmpped in your struggle with me at
89.1: Ridge Farm, I have your handkerchief,
blood-stained, that ou wra the jewelry in
which you robbed rank eene of, after you
had caused his horse to throw him, and I know
that you, and this wretch by your side, in-
veigled Doctor Travers into a trap, carried him
as a madman through the country to a mad-
house in Wisconsin and left him there.

“ Knowin all this, I expect on to tell the
truth, and ' you do not, I will t row this lariat
over onder beam and hang you there.

“ ow, sir, I am ready to listen.”

“ What do I get?”

“ Hung if you don’t, that is all.”

“ I want terms.”

“ As you are stubborn, I will show you that I

am in earnest,” and quickly making a slip-knot, I

Judah, the Jew, threw it around the neck of the
prisoner, who shouted:

“ I’ll talk.” .

“ All right; here I have pen, ink and paper,
so will write down your confession,” an he
turned to the table upon which were writing
materials. '

“ Your name?”

“ Denver Dick.”

“Your real name?”

“ Richard Denmead.”

“ It is not.”

“If you know, why do you ask?”

Alvan Judah arose and threw the end of the
it taut.
cried t e villain hastily.

“ Richard Denver
embroidered ' D.

D“,Your handkerchiefs are
H
“I am called Dick Denver, and Cora Keene

“ Ah! ou knew her, then ?’
“ Yesz fore I Went wrong, our families were
. friends. ’

v “ I see; now, sir, why did you kill that man
in the woodland that night i”

“ To save Cora Keene, for Belden meant to
kill her,”

. “ What was his name?”

“Macy Belden; he had one wrong and was
sent to risen, but esca , and looked me up
for a. jo to get money out of Frank Keene.

“ Frank had committed to ery, and Belden
and I took up the papers, to hol them over him,
and we agreed to go up to Oak. Ridge and play
them on old Keene, or Cora, and get a big sum

’ for them, and then start West.

“Belden dodged me, and meant to play me

‘ false; but I followed him, crept up in the woodsi

and seeing that the fool meant to kill Cora,
just as she did.

“I thought I heard some one com , so ran
the read for a long t me, and
no one passing ong, I went back to see if Bel-
den was badly hurt, and to lay for Frank on his

way home.
‘ I met Frank, and his horse threw him, so I
robbed him and then found Belden‘s 

“ While there, searching for the papers knew
he had, I heard steps and ran off. ’

“ As you were found by the lady and arrested,
I let it go that way, and was working to get

11101125 from old Keene, when I saw you and at-
tack you.
“ Cora, see who I was, and knowing that I

papers a t Frank, made a am with
me for them, and then I found that had lost
them in my struggle with you, so I Went to look

them up.

“ Not findingthem, and knowing on were go-
ing toNcw York, I headed you 0 to kill you
and at them, but I missed it, as you know.”

. “ ell sir, go on.” V

“I had to raise money some way; so I hit upon
the young doctor, and orging an introductory
letter from Cora to him, I made his acquaintance,

/‘ -' pllafyed my game well and my pard here and my-
se It

“got a cool sixty t ousand out of him, which
we have siuandered the last dollar of.”

“ I than you for our frank confession, and
will yet: read it, as ,have written it, and then
81 it. ‘

l a his Dick Denver did and his comrade then
told how he had been taken in, as anally, and
that as far as he knew the circumstances, the
truth had been told. _

To this he was forced also to sign his name.
Armed with these documents, and mounting

" ‘ his prisoners u‘ 11 their horses, which were

staked out near t e cabin, Alvan Judah set oil’
for Denver. arriving there just after daybreak

I and lodging the two guilty men in jail until he
V could secure aid: in carrying them East

From Dick Denver, on the way he-loarned
money whenever

“ 7 s V . _
‘. f‘ owto stop for Doctor Travers, and thenhol

a

ho had used.

' show that she is not the niurderess a jury

 

for New York to break the testimony that Cora ‘ forced to drudge in on her way through the

Keene had killed Macy Belden without provoca-
tion. as it was urged against her at the trial.
“ This proven by this man, I shall endeavor to

her to be, and get her out of that fearfu prison
ere her proud heart is broken with despair."

world.
I She had the pleasant wing of the grand man-
sion arranged for herself, and invited Alvan J u-

fodnd  dah into her sitting-i'wni.

’ “ Have you heard anything,_sir, of the oor
young lady since she wont to prison ?” she as ed,

So said Alvan Judah, and he made a vow to . in a low tone, as the JeWish detective took a seat
take no rest until he had accomplished his pur- { Just opposite to her.

pose in freeing from her life of misery and shame,
poor Cora, the Convict.

 

CHAPTER XLIII.
UNRAVELING A TANGLED PLOT.

IMPROVING rapidly in health, one day Doctor i

Austin Travers sat in his room at the hotel in 1

Chicago, where he had been a nest since his es-
cape from the lunatic asylum t rough the act of
Alvan Judah. ,
A knock upon the door he answered With a
rompt invitation to enter and in ste ped his
davlvlycr, and accompanying  was A van J u-
a .
Springing to his feet, he warmly greeted the
man to whom he owed such deep gratitude,

said:

“ Thank Heaven you are back in safety, for I
have been tl worried about you.” -

“ No 11 for t
ged my game!” answered the young Jew.

“ You caught m kidnapper?”

“Yes, I found

you your release or a certain large sum and a
pled e not to attem t to hunt them.”

“ "he flendél but would have given them any
sum to escape from them.

“Ohl when I think how those two men, one
playling captain and the other my host, on that
yac

Iis

p “ hes; I heard to-da , and she hears up with
1 that brave spirit whic no one who was guilty
I could maintain.”

1 “Oh, sir you do not, after all I saw, believe
! that Miss Keene is innocent?” gried Elsie, in a.
E tone of horror.

' “ I know that'she is,” was the quiet response.

“ But you cannot know, sir, for—~"

“ I repeat, Mrs. Scott—l”

The woman turned pale, but said quickly:

“ You call me Mrs. Scott, sir, when my name
Elsie Hull.”

‘ " Your name was Elsie Hull, but it is now

Mrs. Barney Scott.”

“ Oh, Mr. Judah!” , .

“Don‘t get excited, Mrs. Scott, because I
happen to have found you out. The fact is, I

and have been playing you as a tool to gain my

ends, and have had you shadowed ever since the
day of Mr. Gordon Keene‘s death. I am aware

s that on married Frank Keene‘s intimate, Bar-

t, Doctor Travers, for I bag- , ney
; heir to

im, or rather them, for I got 5 a_dollar, you deserted
both, in their ranch, and the were plotting to ‘ pltal nurse; then, losmg
raise more mone by going ack and offering  one dfl

ott, thugs;l1 years ago, believing him the

great w th.

“When his wild life ot him cut off without
im, and became a hos-
gour place, in distress
you met Barney ‘cott, and he told you

that ‘ss Keene needed a lady’s-maid, as the

| faithful negress who had so long served her bad

I
|
c
l

i

t, seized mo' that day in the woods, beat me 5
insensible, and then dragged me by water and ‘

land for many long miles, making people believe ‘

I was a lunatic, it almost drives me to madness,
and I thank Heaven you have them prisoners.”

“ Yes, I- caught them in their den, knocked
one down and made the other hands u , after
which I tied them and ran them off to ver,
where I got aid in bringing them here, where
they are safely lodged in j 1,” said Alvan Ju-
dah, quietly, and the lawyer (1 Doctor Travers
co atulated him upon is no Work. '

“ on have I believe, some settled purpose in
having hunted this man Denmead to earth i” said
Doctor Travers, addressing Judah, the Jew.

“ Yes I desired to prove that he, and not Miss

Keene, killed that man in the woodland, near
Oak Rid Farm, and which alleged act of hers
wasLu with such force against her at the
tria . v

“ These things I have proven, as also that her
love for her brother was a weakneSs with her,
and to shield him she did all she could do; but
she never took the life of her uncle that she
might get money for him, and this I will yet
prove.” ,

It was a terrible blow to Austin Travers to
know the bitter fate that had fallen upon poor
Cora, and yet ' hearing all the testimony against
her, he seemed to fee that she was guilty, and
u no word of sympathy.

Alvan Judah smiled grim y as the doctor ex-

his views, and muttered to himaelf:

“ This is not my way, to desert one I professed
to love.

“ But so be it.” '

Taking the train for New York, with the ris-
oners under the charge of two constables w om
Alvan Judah emplo ed to watch them, the party
arrived safely and ick Denver and his wicked
comrade were laced in a cell of the Tombs.

Making the our of his offices, Alvsn Judah
saw that the mana or he had placed in, charge
had all working we , and then he drove out to
call upon Emanuel Gas r and Marielle.

The former received cordially, while Mil?
rielle was restrained in her manner and 7011’
sad. for she had heard that she was not beloved
by her idol as she would wish to be.

Having attended to this duty call and related
his adventures, Alvan Judah drove at night to
the grand ho e of the Keenes. ,

It was dar and gloomy-looking, except in one
wingwhere a light glimmered. .

He had left in charge of is Hall, the nurse
of Mr. Keene and former lady’s maid of Com.-

A ring brou ht her to the deor. and her face
lighted up wit a smile as she saw who her vis—
itor was, for Alvan Judah had ever
kind to her, and had insisted ,that she should
care for the mansion, and had paid her liberally
forso doing; while the coachman looked amn-
tho stable, and slept in the mansion as a pro.

teeter. . .

“Gh,Mr. Judah, I am, so glad to see you
back ” said Elsie. ,
“ I am lad to get back, Elsie, for I have

had a rough p of it.
“Ea. woman was aboutgwterilty ygars of age
awinning manner a u er, avin "i-
been well-born and reared ‘ g

       
 

 

    
   

    
 
 

   

dently .
She was attractive-loom but possessed a‘
col 1 120%}, like one whowas

 
 

“4‘1; heartleslfseemnd oo

   

 

been most ,

l where your usband wished you to

gone South. You a plied for the position, and
were emplo ed. on occupied a place ri ht
be shoul he
desire to make you useful. He saw that a plot
for gold might be made between you; but a plot
ripened sooner than you anticipated. ‘

“ Mr. Keene was taken ill, and knowing you
to have been a nurse, Miss keene laced ou in
that capacity by the sick man’s , for s e did
not, like you as a lady’s-maid.

‘ Several nights after his attack, Miss Keene
retired, calling you to watch by the bedside of
the patient, and to call her when it was time to
give him his medicine. You see I have all the
particulars up to that moment, and now I wish
you to tell me just what ou saw.”

“ I told at the trial that I saw,” said the
woman, falteringly.

“ You did not. ’ I V

“I have nothing more to tell,” was the dogged
reply?

" on have, as I will convince you, when I
state that I have here in prison, brought from
his hiding-place in Colorado, Dick Denver, the
man who killed Mac Belden, whom at the trial
it was asserted that iss Keene killed. ’

“ I have, to produce, if you make it necessary,

your husband, Barney Scott, and Frank Keene '
is just where I can lay my hands upon him as it ‘~

witness. »

“ I have here a letter, written by you to Bar
ney Scott, and its contents are entertaining, for
it tells him that the courts, without doubt, Will
give Gordon Keene’s estate to Frank .
the direct heir, and that then half-0t. it will be—
long to you and Barney. ~ , ‘ .

“ See, here is the letter, and I advise you to-
tell the truth, or the msultwlll be that it will be
forced from others and you will go to a prison
cell as the in ” '

The penetrating eyes of the detective never

left the face of the Woman. She was nowl deod—
ly pale and seemed to find difficulty in breathiiig.

' Don’t faint, for when you return to con-
sciousness, you Will be behind iron bars.” ,

“ Oh! what can I do?” I

“ Confess the truth and let that poor innocent
girl suffer no more.”

I: I dare not.” /

n gome, I Will give you just one minim) to be~

t “You can do nothing with me If I do/con-
ess. l
“Imakeno romisetkbuld dosay, if oudo
not confess, then I will bra-Dd. Your chayracter
before the world, and Show Just whose testi-
mony sentenced spore and lovely girl to prison
for life.” ' '

“ I damnot tell,”

“ All ri ht, I arrest You as (he murdmss of
Gordon em ” tad A
heavilyhpon 0 woman’s shoulder.

‘—

CHAPTER xuv." .
A woman‘s conmsxdm

“MERCY! mere I” screamed the.
Alvan. Jam. 1“ 8 deep, stern v01 . laid his
hand 11%? her shoulder and made the hold
chew” tShe was the murdem-

“ ill you comm?"
. “'Yes' oh yes!”
.uI will "ten, and on
truth,”and Alvan Ju sh. y resumed his

. .

must
calm]

 

‘°  PP?!” “’9 with“ “1° "'2',

 

seat. . .
“ I will, I will 1” moaned “19‘ mm“ find line
happy Woman. . \ " ‘

 

'—

Keeneas'

~

van Judah laid his 

ornan, as, '

ten the lwhole f,

    
    
  
  
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

.zg ‘m‘ll«“,.

 

“'-—~—--—._." I ' w), _. w A  ‘ LES‘I‘L

:a nuns

u’Ya" ‘ 

._/.

 

.. .'.’—4 “r

i, as"

bold

whole
(1 his

dun-.

    
 

I

~ in prison to await

Seeing the eyes upon her, which seemed to
hold her under a fascination she could not resist,
the woman said:

" I am not the one who killed Mr. Keene,
though I saw the poison given him. I was lying
in the ba window on the lounge, with the
portiéres rawn to keep out the light, and had
dropped Off to sleep, when I was awakened by
the entrance of some one. I remained quiet,
saw the person glance around the room cau-
tiously, and then, with a strange bottle cl
in her handkgo to the bed. I of Course thought
that Miss ecne had come down to give her
uncle the medicine, for it was nearly time for it,
so said nothing. I saw her wake the gentleman
up and administer the medicine.

“ It seemed to choke him, so she set the bottle
down and gave him some water. and he imme-
diately dropped to sleep, and she stood a moment
in waiting.

“ Then she came toward the window and saw

me. -

“ She started, turned white and staggered
backward, when I sprung to her aid.

“ Then, as her face was full in the light of the
adjoining room, I discovered to my horror, that
it was not Miss Keene.”

“ Who was it?” asked Alvan Judah, coolly.

“ It. was her brother.”

“Frank Keene?”

“ Yes, sir; at he was dressed up in Miss
Keene’s clothes, and looked strangely like her,
only he was much taller, yet stooped to prevent
this showing.

“ He knew that his uncle would take no medi-
cine except from his sister‘s hands, and, not
fearing detection, or that aught would be sus-
pected, as Mr. Keene was very sick, if he should
die, be determined to poison his uncle, that his
sister might have his fortune, and that meant
half for him. This he told me in anadjoinin
room, whither he ged me, and he pledg
himself to give me hal of what he received. If
found out, Miss Keene was to be accused, and
then all the inheritance would be his and I would
receive half from him.

“ Now you have my confession. sir.”

“ Write it down and sign it, just as you told
it to me.” ,

“ ghy should It: ble kn

“ cm are c n on cw.

“Writeeli‘t down.” gm ’ y

“ I will send it to you.”

“ You will write it now!”

the obeyed, and then the merciless detective

sai .

“Now k a sachel for ourself for ou are
to owitEargie.” y , y

‘ Where?”

“ To jail” .\ ~

“ Oh God! you mid-e”

“I made no promises. Get“ ready, for I am
going to take on with me.”

An hour ter Alvan Judah was on his way
West, having safelyuplaoed the wicked woman

. _ Mfor he had one

upona special mmmwflchwill be unfo ed
in .thenext chapter. ‘

—-— .

CHAPTER XLV.
stratum-ion.
Ina logcabin in the wilds of the West, sev-

eral men were heated around a rude table, gam- '

bling. They were cowboys, and, with one ex-
ce on. a wild, reckless set.

t exception was Frank Keene, and though
dremedinthegarbof theborder, hestilllooked
the handsome, refined youth. ..

He was winning heavily, and his face was
flushed both by drink and is success.
I “ I am in luck, pards,” he said, triumphantly,
as‘he won another ame

‘ got means we it,” growled one. I

wi“ £1,611, y shoukzhplayhbefierit you ' to
n m ,or on very ou ,gentle-
men Iamanold hand a cards,”55’aidn§‘rank.

“‘lfouare a oung cheat and! ca ht on
that time, sly azyou are. ’ us y

“ Give up that money, béz; or I’ll put a bul-
let inter yer,” cried one of nten.
finallde to their feet, and the man con-

u :

“ Pards. he’s got marked cards; I seen him.

“ If he hain’t, I gives him permission to shoot
me.

“Given that mono be I”

“I will rite” y' y

“Then I takes it,” and he sprung toward

Th Keene' [struggl istol h t

are was a e a. -s o- a groan

and a heavy fall. ’ p ’ ’

“ Bo ou begun bad and you’ve ended
 the man who had sprung upon him.

“Oh God! you have killed me,”groaned the .

youth.

Before a word more could be said the door
opened and in ate a stra er.
, “Gentlemen, is his the in of Handsome

Frank?”
“It are, and thar be are: but he brought it
upon hissdlf,” was the answer.

 

The Jew Detective.

in youth, and each uttered the name of the
ot er:

“Frank Keene l"

“ Judah, the Jew!”

“Frank, you are dying,” said the detective,

sadly}.
' “ es: but I brought it upon myself. 0h, Mr.
Judah, I have so much to tell you,” groaned the
youth.
“ I know all, Frank; but I wish you, while
you have strength, to sign this confession which
shall read to you.”
S And he hastily read the confession of Elsie
cott.

killed my uncle, and all is true that she says.”
He was raised up to the table, a pen was I
placed in his hand, and he wrote in a firm hand: 

“ I am dying from a shot I brought upon myself, F
and I swear that I poisoned m uncle, Gordon l
Keene, as the woman, Elsie Scott. ere confesses. '

“FnANK KEINE." l

“ Gentlemen. kindly si this pa r as wit '
nesses,” said Alvan J udafifl pe -!

The three men, deeply ' pressed b the scene, !
hastily did so, and then Alvan J uda placed it
in his pocket, and turning to the d ing youth 3
did all in his power to relieve his erings.

“ I dare not ask in sister to forgive me, but
I know she will. .Te her my last thought was
of her. Good-by. Mr. Judah l”

And the wicked young 8 dthrift and mur-
derer breathed his ast. is md clasped firmly .
in that of Judah, the Jew. 1

CHAPTER XLVI.
CONCLUSION.

Alum!) with the confession of Elsie Scott,
signed by Frank Keene, and also the one of
Dick Denver, that he was the murderer of Macy
Belden, Alvan Judah presented himself before
theGovernorof the State and gave him a rt‘s'umé
of the whole story, as the reader now knows it, ‘,
and asked, not for the pardon but for the im- '
mediate release of the poor girl who had sodeep-
ly suffered, and had been forced to wear the
name of Cora, the Convict.

The governor was doe ly pained at the sufl'er-
ing that had been visi upon one who was in-
nocent, and went with Judah, the Jew, to the
prison and at once had her released. '

Words cannot picture the scene of joy at her
release or the sorrow that fell upon poor Cora
when 3 e knew of the sad endin of her brother;
but hers was a brave heart, an she faced With
fortitude all that she had to hear.

With no longer the sti of the convict to
brand her, Cora Keene’s riends (in name) began
to crowd about her, and Austin Travers was
among the flrstto congratulate her and attempt-
ed at once to assume t e position of fiance.

But Cora Keene coldly informed him that she
had never loved him. as she had made known to
him at the time of their ement, and,though
sympathizing with him in t e sorrows and suf-
ferings he had known, she could only consider
him in the future as an acquaintance.

Others, too, were coldly recoivpd by the now
haught and defiant ‘ l, and when she returned
to Oak 'd e Farm i was with the prayer:

“ Lord dc iver us from our friends l”

Alvan Judah esccrted her to the depOt, and
then set to work to rosecute those who had so

'rseculfted the maiden he so dearly loved, and

so . .
$19 was  to th: New York Bar, and

assigned y distric attorneytc prosecute
ick Denver. his comrade in crime, and Elsie
Scott. and so thorOughly did he do his duty that
the trio went to prison to expiate their crimes.
Having removed this burden from his heart
Alvan Judah took the train one night for New
England, and his destination was Oak Ridge

Farm. .
What he said to Cora, upon meeting her, can
be surmised by her answer: . '
“ Yes. I 1mm and have donesosince I saw
you, under for your life here. You an that
on are known as Judah the Jew. all have
n callod00ratheConvict,and though I am
not a Jew, my Christian friends deserted me
inmyan lab and dan or,and you have been
my trues butfriend hall.andto you I
now turn for happiness in , for yg'i'r'geople
shall be my wig, yourcroedmy ,and

your God my - ,

And colt ' nod, for soon after Cora Keene
beam: 3:6 0 of wean J udahmthebJ ewgvnd
thong ey were in t eir. e
there was one r heart What! lost its idol
andwas doom to ache on until Time. the
soother of sorr0w. should heal the weand 0 un-
uited meetion. .
hat one Was Marielle the fewest, but hers
was a noble nature, and aoceptin the inevitable,
she hid the thorn in her side, an with her father
went up to Oak Ridge Farm to ,visit Judah the
Jew and his beautiful bride.

 

The new-comer sprung to the side of the dy-

 

\ ‘

 

/17-Billy Bub. the Double
Old Arlenlc’I Secret.

27

Issued Every Wednesday.

EBEADLE’S

i POPULAR

5
“Yes; I will sign it, for I am the one who I

LIBRARY.

PRICE. FIVE CENTS.

This New Library will give only the Best
Work of the Best Writers in POPULAR AMERI-

? CAN ROMANCE.

Each and every issue will be a bright, strong,
markedly original work, produced expressly for
the series by special order, and wrought up to
the highest standard of popular story excel-
lance.

lts field will cover the wide scope of Wild
West, Border, Mining, Ranchiug, Detective,
Secret Service, City and Sea Life, and thus
maintain, as a Library, an interest at once
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As no inferior or amateur production is ad-
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certain to win a wide pcpularity, and become

one of the standards in the literature for the,

people.

]-—Dandy Dick, Detective: or, The Still Hunt
at Burnt Match. By Robert Randolph In-
mnn.‘

2—311": Three Spotten; or, Runnin Down the: l ;

Rogues. By Harem H. W ng—“Ser.
gcant Mark. '
3—Cowhoy Chris the Man Caliber; or Hot
Timoaiu Hot ole. By in. West Wilder

-“ Wyoming Will.”

4—Dandy Dick’s Double; or, The Severed Head
(1): Paradise Pocket. By Robert Randolph
man.

5-The Street SW’ Weird Hunt- or, The
Angel of the By Marcus fl. Waring
-—-“ Sergeant Mark.” ' ~

6-Husta the Bo Rpcher' or Old 
Joe Bnu‘ndy’c fps-out, By Maj] Sain S. ."
Scott, _ ' ’ .

7—Fllp Fred,tho Pack-Paddler ; or,.Tho
Witch of the Black Swamp. y Edward .
Lytton. . , .

8—Cowhoy Chris to the Fore; or, Scourgi the. '

Scourge of the San Juan. B Wm. eat
Wilder. y ‘
9—Tho Three Spottera’ Dead )1 ate
Blonde Bert of Brick Alle . y
H. Waring—“Sergeant Mar ”
10-»Dmdy Dick Decoyed;
Tussle at Satan's
Randolph 

ll—Rustliug Rob, the Tram ’c Pro ;I or. The
later of the Cedars. By m

Delight. By

ard. y Maj. Sam 8. Scott.

134nm Three Spotters’ Duel in the Dark; or,

The Thrif- ond Trailers of Gotham. By
Marcus . Waring,-—“ Sergeant Mark.”

14-430wa Chris in Cinnabar: or The Battle ,
of the loo Jeans. By Wm. Welt Wilder,
—‘fi Wyoming Will.” ‘

15—nghtnlng Leo, the Behind-thence” Dc» ,1,

tective; or The uaro rt‘o Seemth
By Redmohd 81220. spa ‘

Iii—Dandy Dick’s Decoy; or, The Routing Time. . 
Robert Bum T ‘

at and-Tumble. By

dolph Inna-n.

By Edward Lyttou.
For sale by all newcdealera at five cents per

copy, or sent, post-paid, on receipt (if sixoeutr a

BEADLE Am) ADAMS, I’ubliehorl,
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3°rv'

 

or. The Terrible ‘
Robert ‘

Edward Lyttou. 
12— uatan Xerle’c Mine; or,Doloroa Dick and, ‘3

'.
A;

Prize Detective; or," V

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
    
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
  
    
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
      
     
   
   
  
  
   
   
    
    

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What Each Would Do. For six little girls. ‘.
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emale and one outsider.

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Rather Mixed. For a number of small girls.

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Keeping Bachelor’s Hall. For several males and
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Tour Wishes. For four little rls.

123: Are Seldom What ey Seem. For two

es and two females.

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A Catch at Last. For three males and one female.

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Prelfillld ng for an Exhibition. For teacher and three
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Dime Dialogues, No. 38.

Just Published.

A Wild Irishman’s Diplomacy. For five males and
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Aunt Deborah in the City. For two females.

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Playing Hostess. For two ladies and a little girl.

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What Happened to Hannah. For two males and
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For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent, post-
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Dime Dialogues. No. 82.

A Persecuted Man. For various characters.

Too Curious for Comfort. For 2 males and 2 females.
Under False Guise. Several females and children.
A Sure Guide. For seven males.

The Eight Little B0 3 from Nonsense Land.

How The See the or”. For two little stria-
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and female.

Too Much Side Show. For a number of boys.

How Mrs. Ponderous Was Paid. For 4 your!!! ladiefi
Polywog Versus Wolypog. For numerous citizens.
Tongue and Temper. For two ladies.

Flour of the Family. For 3 ladies and l gentleman.
Middleton’s Mistake. For live males.

A Valuable Neighbor. For one lady and one boy.
The Man of Check. For two es.

Mr. and Mrs. Blizzard at Home. For man and wife.

Morgan‘s Money. For five males.
The Courtship of Miles Standish. School Festival.

1 Dime Dialogues. No. 83.

The Wronz Trunk. Fa' several male characters
and one female.
flaucv J ack Leee. For four males and four females.
The Pretty Preacher. For two young ladies
A Contrast. For two little girls.
ghéy'l‘hhi' gm ror £3331" ° MM" "
9. es :1: .
Why Did You Do It? For 0 hool of link chitin.
Shfiefiad Hiram. Fog "z and igentleman.
rt of e Mair. r ntlemen. V
Mrs. pgroom‘s unconceptiol lg; two gentlemen
and three ladies. K I
The Year mind. For twelve imme
Defendi e. For 8 males and f
A Perfect y Ve us Ian. For 1 male and music.
Sympathetic Sym y. For 8 males and 2 females.
Auanias at Home. one male and three females,
The Man from  lzentleman and 8 ladies.
Casablanca in Two ersions. ‘For two boys.

Dime Dialogues. No. 84.

It’s English You Know. For three (or six) males and
eight females.
A fMueilli Misunderstood Man. For one male and one
em e.
The Glass Man. For

seven mala- .,
Mia. Podberry's V, vs bu Education. For two fo-

mal an ren. girls.
How She msged Him. For one male, one female,

slid child.i
The Oyster Resurrection. For two males and two
emales.
A Neighbor Quarrel. For two males.
Blessed are he Pure in Heart. For four females.
What the Boys Know of it. Fora school-all males.
A arm ion. For 2 males and 2 females.
to oosings. or ten little girls.
W '81! I Grow into be a Man. For six little boys.
Enforcing a oral. three or four males and
several females.
Blaying Big Folks. For several children.
W hat Are Little Girls Good Flor? Fort little is.
The Bum p-Scii-ntist‘s Reception in Clarionvil e Cen

a i ' tar. For 8 males. or 7 males and 1 female.

Hm Than She Bargained For. For three females

onemale.

Dina Dialogues, No. 35.
In the Wron'ir House. For 8 males and 2 females.

 

The Sham of It For a ales and 1 male.

The Surest Proo . For che ' males and one female.
Too Much for Jones and Smith. For two males.

Na hty Boy 3100- ,- and several

' l c ‘ ren. ‘ '
On] Working Girl. For 4 females and 2 males.
. ~ so; in Got Even with Ham;

tampons Victory. _
ous Boarder. For 8 female. m g mu“.
The.me Sisters. Fri-y a numbesoc to...“
Dolly ison’s Method. or 9 males and 1 female.
Liththead in the Country. For one mg m

. For seven little boys.

. males and six femal .

Tgehlsest L mil" For four little girls .3?!
grown .13..

Florence m5- Iktake. For 8 males and l femals.

'  , the 30le Hustonox. For two males.

Dina nu.” no. 36.

The King Discrowned FOP an entire school.
Meeting of the Bulgertown Phuomalisn Literary 80
y,- For five or more males. and three females-
uld 0th . For six little boys. ’
B Ihino. A Jingle. For six lit'le s .

0"? Of Mr. Oily Gammon. For four malu.
“98" Hannah or four females.

9 00" For 2 males and 3 Elude"

For six little r .
The apps“; two males

mum, .Hanin the Country. or

. For two females
fidel'lnl'xcas’todan. For four male!»

   

  

 

Dime Dialogues. No. 37.

The Fairies’ Prisoner. A Scenic and Dress Piece for
a Young Ladies’ School, or Garden Part, , or Par-
lor Entertainment.

The McFlackertys and McDooz‘ers. For two males
and three females. .

The Children of the Week. For seven little girls.

Uncle Ruspys Ruse. For one male and four females.

The Lando “Onee-on-a-Time." For 7 little boys.

Jupiter Johnsum’s Affairs. For one male and one

emaie and one outsider.

The Bores of a Day. For four males and six females.

Rather Muted. For a number of small ' is. m

The Ould Oirisb Tay. For several ma es and ,two
females. i '

Cherubino and Seraphina. For 1 male and 1 female.

The Comic Valentine. For four boys and teacher.

The Two Roberts. For five males and one female.

Keeping Bachelor‘s Hall. For several males and
one female.

Four Wishes. For four little iris.

Things Are Seldom What 'I ey Seem. For two
m es and two females.

The Charity Student. For several girls.

A Catch at Last. For three males and one female.

The Bogus Doctor. For four males and a ghost.

Helms-lug for an Exhibition. For teacher and three
c ren.

For sale by all newsdeale or will be sent post»
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Inch Volume 100 121110 Pages.

 

 

 

  
 
 

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' hauls for Houses-dyes.

l.OookBoo", LFam L .‘
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Dramas aanBeadings.
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For Schools. Parlors. Entertainments and the Am
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The Banner Weekly.

The nest Weekly 0! Po ular Literature
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Its Unrlvaled Corps of (bntributors. almost allot
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Colonel Prentiss Iazraham. Albert W. Aiken.
Dr. Noel Dunbar. Co R Mark Wilton. Joseph
E. Badger, Jr.. Edward . Wheeler. Charles Morris.
Oll Coomes. C. Dunning Clark. Buffalo Bill. Whine

 

 

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J. C. Oowdrick.

Tan Emu Want us Possum as mi
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BEADLE AND ADAMS, humans.
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In’ RollCall, ‘
I Accession/L10
'l‘heDonhtion

 

a
THE

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Diane Dialect Speaker, No. 83.
Dat‘s W’at‘s De Matter, The Manifest Destiny

 

 

 

The Mississippi Miracle, the Irishman,
Ven Te Tide Cooms In. Peggy McCann,
Dose LamsVot Mary Hat Spra from Josh Billin

Got [man’s Rights, De rcumstances ob
Pat C‘Flaherty 0n Wo- Sitiwation,
The Home Rulers, Dar’s Nuflin New Unda
Hezekiah Dawson On de Sun

Mothers-In—Law, A Ne 'Religious Poem,
He Didn‘t Sell The Farm, That iolin,
The True Story of Frank- Picnic ' hts,

lin's Kite, [Ag-in, Our Candi ate’s Views,
I Would I Were a Boy Dundreary’s Wisdom,
A Pathetic Story, Plain language
All About a Bee. M Neighbor‘s Dogs.
Scandalb T e Stove Pipe Tragedy.
A Dark ide View, Condensed Mythology,
Te Pesser Vay, gift? .d

3 German, 6 ere) es,
’s ShmallVitc Lamb, ds of Attica,

A ealthy Discourse, A Do etor‘s Dmbblel.
Tobias 80 To S The Coming Man,
Old Mrs. Grimes, ’th West.
A . 'ne Illigant Aflair at Mu)-
Mars an Cats. doon‘s, [the Corner
Bill Underwood, Pilot, (That Little Baby Around
Old Gran] A Genewinc Inference._
The Pill Pgdlor's Oration An invitation to the Bird
WidderGreen's last words of Liberty,
Latest Chinese Outrage, The Crow.

Readings and Recitations. No. 84.

Wmmhhafiamm t “it” “’° °"" °°'°‘

e - n ome,

%th d ‘t {our Ace Pfimhyighht’ i Moo.
an mom c an er n

Carey of Not One to Spare

Babies. Mrs. Breezy‘s Pinl: lunch

John Rock of Ages,

Reed,
TheBrakemanatChurch J. Caesar Pompey
Passun Mooah’s Sur- Squash‘s Sermon,
.35“... Q esti Thugs hi)?“

e u on, e ews ,
Jim anlfe and the Cats, Pat‘s Co ndence
The Dim on Forest. Death of or wd ’Squire.
Rasher at Home. lain Tog
At Elberon, '
The of Womanhood,
The Ju ent Day,
7 ‘ The Burst Bubble,
Should the Sipth of Curfew Must Not
v rtal he lion 7

, u e,
e ,8 Sin , ‘
A Gas for lPresi- Sam’s Letter,
‘1 {dong Footsteps of the Dead,
F-il .
y, An N 

Dims Ins-lesun  W5.
Plant; Small'sfroclama- j -g: Day we Celebrate, -

gm- cnuc'ot Work

0 . , .
The Mother-in-Law ‘ .
' Odane's a Flanders

The Widow
Rint. f [M
Leatherlung‘s 00s and 9.1% Course,
ACockneys ehce.- No French.
The “Free us!" A , eStatistix, [libi-
Humbug. _ Things Accoun .
glimmer 35mg:ng "n... "hen c no"
0 e no orusca»
Declamation. The Poet Bold. , -
ShtlchenOatsDot'sWild, January Jones Defends

the l
The Hm 0' [Liars
on

long, “ Tree ‘
'Very Pathfitic, :l‘he Late Mr. Sham
ea

 

A Telling
Back to G
Advice to a
The Pl es of Ezvpt,
Julius Sumner‘s
Vie s,
John ones—His Horn,

Sentiment. ,
figm‘ the Temperance .h
. eman ,
The Scenes of Childhood, Cudjo Bardsiu's Pro-
hi‘iii’fikim " m “"9"”
I
The Coileglanhdlhumln- Dot Hohcken Bucket.

 are

. no e
03;?“ Rev. eter Bill's
Jones‘s Wife’s Aunt.
A Rhyme of the Tim

e,
A Short Debate on Rum.

 

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use .. Pm ...: m...” a?
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For sale all newsdoalen. orwlil he sent,”
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THE emu AMERICAN STORY iePER- l:

 

 

 

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The Best Weekly fiew‘immm  :31. 
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Almost all of whom write exclusively for its publishers—embrace the following popular authors:

 
 
    

 

lv
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l Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Col. E. Z. C. Judson (Ned Buntline), Oll Coomes,
Albert W. Aiken, Hon. Wm. F. Cody (Bufl‘alo Bill), Charles Morris,

  
   

10-01": E. Badger, Jr., Major Dangerfield Burr, Philip S. Warne,

 
 

Capt. Fred Whittaker, Major Saul S. Hall (Buck-kin Sam),
Edward 1.. Wheeler, J. C. Cowdrick, Edward Wine“,

 
     
 

Wm. B. Enter, '1‘. C. llarbaugh, Eben E. “oxford,
Wm. H. Manning, Frank Triple", A. F. Holt,
1!. a. Johnson, Wu. 3. Gldley, x. v. mu,
Henri Montcalm, Al. W. (trowell,
Jo Pierce, 11. 8. Keller,

Weldon J. Cobb, g,qu to

 
 
  

  
  
   
 

  
 
   
   
 
   

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Storlos of the Great Deep. otoJ

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Published Every lVednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform firice of Ten Cents. N0  Numbers.

 

BY \VILLIAM B. EYSTEB.

634 Old Handcart‘s Big Dump.

622 Tue All Around Sports.‘

603 Deser. Alf, the Man With the Cougar.

590 Gentle Jacx, the High Roller from Humbug.
578 Seven Shot Steve, the Sport with a Smile.

568 The Dude Detective. _

555‘ Hurrah Harry. the High Horse from Halcyon.
549 Beishazzar Brick, the Bailiff of Blue Blazes.
5‘33 Oregon. the Sport Vi itll aScrlr.

525 Fresh Frank. the Derringer Daisy,

503 The Dude from Denver.

478 Pinnacle Pete; or. The Fool from Way Back.
459 Major Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives,

429 Hair Trigger Tom 0! Red Bend.

402 Snapshot Sam: or. The Angels‘ Flat Racket.
396 The Piper Detective; or. The Gilt Edge Gang.
375 Royal Geo e, the Three in One.

356 Thr 3 Han some Sports; or, The Combination.
344. Double Shot Dave 0 the Left Hand.

333 Derringer Dick. the Man with the Drop.

300 A Sport in Spectacles; or. Bad Time at Bunco.
268 Magic Mike. the Man of Frills.

229 Captain Cutsleeve; or. The Little Sport.

214 The Two Cool Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch.
192 The Lightning S Min.

182 Hands Up; or, e Knights of the. Canyon.

160 Soft Hand. Sharp: or, The. Man With the Sand.
145 Pistol Pards; or, The SilentSport from Cinnabar.

BY CAPT. FRED. \VHITTAKER.‘
614 The Showman Detective; or, The Mad Magician.
609 The. Texas Tramp; 01'. Solid Saul-

445 J ourne man John. the Champion.

412 La kc. the Man of Iron.

406 Old op Hicks. Showman.

878 John Armstrong, Mechanic.

3% The Whitest Man in the Mines.
.810 The Marshal of Satanstown; or, The Rogue.
808 To Notch Tom, the Cowbo Outlaw. ‘

295 01 Cross-Eye. the Maverlc -Hunter.

990 The Lost Corvette: or, Blakelcy's Last Cruise.
284 The Three Frigates; 01'. Old Ironaides’ Revenge.
277 The Saucy J ane. Privateer.

272 Seth Slocum. Railroad Sumyor.

965 Old Double-Sword; or. Pilots. and Pirates.

253 A Yankee Cossack; or.The Queen of the Nihilists.
247 Alllgtor e: or. The Secret of the Everglade.
242 The on vii; or. The Ski rat the Flash.

980 The Flvlng Dutchman of 1 .

226 The Mad Buss-rs; or. The 0‘s and the Mac's.
215 Parson Jim. King of the Cowboys.

211 Colonel Plunger; or, The Unknown Sport.

206 Dual! 0. the Cannoneer.

198 The Min in Red; or, The Ghost of the Old Guard.
187 The Death’s Head Cuirassiers.

174 The Phantom Knights.

159 Red Rudiger. the Archer.
 'Ii‘lemgze King1 (i; gig: Triiiri‘ittlis.C

he Vere e ; or. e astle Con Secret.

108 The Duke of Diamonds. 6’ '

98 The Rock Rider; or. The Spirit of the Sierra.

95 Double Deatlr or. The Spy of Wyoming. ,,

N The Irish Ca n. A Ta of Fontonoy.
‘05 Tuckedns ah; onTheScomgeottheImiies.

89 The Russian Spy; or, TheStarv Cross Brothers.

BY OLL GOODIES.

619 Kit Bandy & Co . the Border-Detectives.
148 One-Armed Alf. the Giant Hunter.
137 Long Board. the Giant 8%
99 The Giant Rifleman: or. lld Camp Lite.
51 Red Rob. the Bo Road-Agent. _
48 Make Tom, the cum: Outlaw of Silverland.
46 Bowie-Knife Ben. the Nor‘West Hunter.
44 Old Dan Rackhack, the Great Extarminator.
43 Dakota Dan. the Reckless Ranger.
7 Death-Notch. the Destroyer.

BY PHILIP S. WABNB.

583 Captain Adair. the CattleKing.
567 Cdptain Midnight. the Man of Craft.
544 The Back to Back Pards.
522 The Chain ion Three.
503 Bareback lick, the Centaur of the Plains.
47? Six Foot Si; or, The Man to “ Tle To."
43 California Kit. the Always on Hand.
401 Silver Sid; or A “ Daisy " Biua,
380 Tiger Dick‘s Pledfie; or,‘ T Golden Serpent.
859 Yellow Jack. t e estiao. I
388 Jack Sands. th Boss of the Town.
299 Three of a Kind; or Dick. Despm-d and the sport,
280 Tiger Dick‘s Lone Hand.
. 851 Tiger Dick vs. Iron Desgard.
an Old Hard Head: or. W irlwind and his Mare.
171'Tlger Dick. the Man of the Iron Heart. -
114 The Gentleman from Pike.
3). A Man of Nerve' or, Caliban the Dwarf.-
54 Always on Han ; or. The Foot-Hills Sport. ‘
89 Tiger Dick. Faro Kin : or. The Cashier's Crime.
4 The Kldnapper; or. he Northwest Shanghai.
1 A Hard Crowd; or, Gentleman Sam’s Sister.

BY ANTHONY P. MORRIS.

35'! Jack Simona. Detective.
343 The Head Hunter; or, Mark Magic in the lino.
834 The Ci her Detective. _

818 Mark 0. Detective.
806 The Rou s of Richmond.
‘5188 Elec'i'o etc. the Man of Fire

960 The Masked Mystery: or. The Black Crescent.
238 Bank Hound. the Crescent City Detective.
185 Man Spider; or. The Beautiful Sphinx.
'16 The Man of Steel. Tale of Love and Terror.
1 The French Spy; or. The Bride of Paris.
95 Azhort. the Axman; or. The Palace Secrets.
5 The Fire Fiends; or, Hercules. Hunchback.

BY PBOF. J. K.‘ INGBAIIAM.

515 Lafitte‘s Lieutenant: or. Child of the Sea.
814 Lafitte; or. The Pirate of the Gulf.

118 he Bu lar Captain; or. The Fallen Star
118 6 Sea llpper; or, The Freebooters.

BY CHARLES MORRIS.

589 Prince Hal. tho Rattlln Detective.
880 Cop Colt, the Quaker' ity Detective.

 

 

BY CAPTAIN HO“’ARD HOLMES.

612 Red Ford and Yellow.

608 Silent Sam, the. Shadow Sphinx.

592 Ca tain Sid, the Shasta Ferret.

579 01 Cormorant. the Bowery Shadow.

569 Captain Cobra. the Hooded Mystery.

559 Danton. the Shadow Sharp.

550 Silk Hand, the MohaVe Ferret.

513 The )lagnate Detective.

532 J act Javert, the Independent Detective.

523 Reynnrd of Red Jack: or. The Lost Detective.
512 Captain Velvet‘s Big Stake.

505 Phil Fox, the Genteel Spotter.

496 Richard Rednre, the Two Worlds’ Detective

487 Sunshine Sam. a Chip of the Old Block.

480 Hawkspear. the Man with a Secret.

4 ‘8 Coldgrip in Deadwood.

460 Captain Coldgrip. e Detective

453 Captain Cold rip‘s ong Trail.

447 V0 cano. the ‘l’lSOO Spy.

4-11 rl'he California Sharp. /

434 Lucifer Lynx. the "vi onder Detective.

421 Father Ferret. the Frisco Shadow.

413 Captain Coldgrip in New York.

40? Captain Coldgrip's Nerve; or. In un Nick.

400 Captain Coldgrip: or. The New ork Spotter.
392 The Lost Bonanza: or. The Boot of Silent Hound.
382 The Bonanza Band: or. Dread Don of Cool Clan.
374 Major Blister. the Sport of Two Cities.

365 Keen Kennard. the Shasta Shadow.

352 The Des crate Dozen. -

347 Denver uke. the Man with “Sand.”

340 Cool Conrad-the Dakota Detective.

335 Flash Dan. the Nabob; or. Blades of Bowie Bar.
321 California Claude. the Lone Bandit.

294 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy.

278 Hercules Goldspiir, the Man of the Velvet Hand.

BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON.

323 Hotspur Hugh; or. The Banded Brothers.
811 Heavy Hand; or. The Marked Men.

805 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover.

291 Horseshoe Hank. the Man of Big Luck.

285 Lightning Bolt, the Canyon Terror.

776 Texas Chick. the Southwest Detective.

971 Stoneflst. of Big Nu get Bend.

266 Leopard Luke. the lili‘g 01 Horse-Thieves.
963 Iron-Armed Abe, the unchback Destroyer.
258 Bullet Head the Colorado Bravo.

245 Barranca Bill the Revolver Chain ion

237 LonEHaired Max; or, The Black a e.
227 Buc shot Ben, the Man-Hunter of Ida i0.
2923 Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mountain.

219 The Scorpion Brothers; or. Mad Tom’s Mission.
202 Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide.

194 Don Sombrero. the California Road Gent.
176 Lady Jaguar. the Robber Queen.

BY SAM 8. BALL— “ Buckskin Sun.”

511 Paint Pete. the Prairie Pa 1. »
871 Gold Buttons' ‘or, The Up Pa
858 The Prince of Pan Out. .
W Blanoo Bill, the Mustang Monarch.
128 King Kent; or. The Bandits of the Boson.
329 The Crimson Coyotes; or, Nita. the Nemesis
309 Raybold, the Battling Ranger.
301 Bowlder Bill; or, The Man from Tnos.
993 Stampede Steve: or. The Doom of the Double.
287 Dand Dave and his Horse, White Stocking.
982 The ' crciless Marauders; or, Carl’s Revenge.
273 Mountain Mose, the Gorge Outlaw.
969 The Bayou Bravo; or, The Temble Trail.
264 The Crooked Three.
% 33mg: Dallnhtge Dastarg; or, £119 Pgates.
8 ug ers;or..ha eteScou e.
244 Merciless Mart. the Man ng'é’r oi Missouri. I“
239 The Terrible Trio- or, The AW] of the Army.
925 Rocky Mountain Al; rr. The all of the Range.
Desperate Duke. the Guadeloupe “Gsloot.” .
9 7 The Serpent 01' El Paso; or, Frontier Frank.
212 The Brazos Tigers; or. l‘he Minute Men.
204 Big Foot Wallace, the Kin of the Lariat.
199 Diamond Dick, the Dandy rom Denver.
195 The Lone Star Gambler: or. Magnolia} Maid.
191 The Terrible Tonkawa ; or. Old Rock n Pards.
186 The Black Bravo;'or. he Tonkaway's rinmph.
178 Dark Dashwood. the Des rate
90 Wild Will, the Mad Ran era.
3 Kit Carson, Jr., the Crack Shot.

BY MAJOR DANGEBFIELD BUBB.
448 Hark Kenton. the Traitor. ..
188 The Phantom Mazeppa; or. The Hyena.
156 Velvet Face. the Border Bravo. ,
if? gapttlain %flmdson, there! the Iron Face.
as mg as y' or. e ots urot th H .
92 Buffalo Bill. the'Buckskiu King. 6 m' '

BY COL. THOMAS H. MONS'I‘BBY.
m SurlngHecl Jack: or. The Masked Mystery.
so: Fighting Tom. the Terror of the Toughs.
986 Champion Sam: or The Monarchs of the Show.
169 Corporal Cannon. the Man of Forty Duels
157 Mourad, the Mameluke; or, The Three Sword

masters.
150 El Rubio Bravo. King of the Swordsmen.
148 The Czar’sS ; or. The Nlhi t League
1%.The Demon nelist: or. The c of SteeL
oz Iron Wrist, the Swordmastor.

BY MAJOR DA NIBL BOONB BUMONT.
m The Witch of Shasta; or. The Man of Check.
nos Topnotch Tom. the Mad Parson.

454 . ndvcraw. the Man of Grit.

454 - he Night Raider. A‘

489 Salamander Sam. '

490 The Old River Sport; or. A Man of Honor.

411 The White 0500 ; or, 01d Hark’s Fortress.

389 Colonel Doub e-Edgo. the Cattle Baron’s P1111.
883 Silver Sam. the Detective.

_ nv LEON LEWIS.
594 The Submarine Datec‘ive: or, The Water Ghouls.
a 82%“ Tsar; '1: M “arm”- . ...
6 en e co ve;,or. .
456 The Demon Steer. . Bogu- 0’
498 The Flying Gllm; or. The Islapd Luna.

;

BY NED BUNTLINE.

633 The Sea S y.

621 The Red rivateer; or. The Midshipman Raves.
584 Fire Feather. the Buccaneer King.
517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail.
361 Tombstone Dick. the Train Pilot.
270 Andros. the Rover; or. The Pirate’s Daughter.
122 Saul Sabberday, the idiot S y.
111 The Smuggler Captain; or, he Skipper‘s Grim.-
61 Captain Seawaif. the Privat—e-r.

23 The Red Warrior; or. The Comanche Lover.

18 The Sea Bandit; or. The Queen of the Isle.

16 The White Wizard; or. The Seminole Prophet.
14 Thayendanegea,the Scourge;or, The War-Eagle.

BY LIEUT. A. K. anus. ‘
618 Kansas Karl. the Detective King.
552 Prince Primrose. the Flower of the Flock.
5:58 Huckleberry. the Foot-Hills Detective.

BY DB. NOEL DUNBAB.

604 The Detective in Rags; or, The Grim Shadows.
500 The True-Heart Pards.

BY NEWTON M. CUBTHSS.

254 Giant Jake. the Patrol of the Mountain.
120 The Texan Spy; or. The Prairie Guide.

BY 0. DUNNING CLARK.
183 Gilbert the Guide. ‘ 
164 The King’s Fool. ‘ l .
BY ISAAC HAWKS. III-Detective. “

240 A Cool Head: or. Orson Oxx in Peril.
232 Orson Oxx; or. The River Mystery.

BY E. A. 81'. MOX.

and Cutt. the Invincible Detectives
sort of Oak Detective.

BY nnwann WILLm. ‘

483 Flush Fred. the River 811%?

868 The Canyon King; or. a co on his Head.

848 Dan Dillon. King of Crosscut.

837 Old Gabe the Mountain Trams:

827 Terrapin Dick. the Wildwood etective.

815 ush Fred‘s Double; or. The Squatters’ Lem
ans emlock Hank, Tough and True.

$8 L" ggor Lem; or. Life in the Pine Woods.

289 Flush Fred's Full Hand.

974 Flush Fred. the Mississippi Sport.

248 Montana Nat. the Lion 0 Last Chance Camp.
222 Bill the Blizzard; or. Red Jack’s Crime.

209 Buck Farlo . the Bonanza Prince.

129 Mississippi 080; or, a Strong Man's Sacrinos.

BY GEORGE C. JENKS.

572 Jauntv Joe, the Jockey Detective. ,
5154 Mad Sharp, the Rustler. . l
538 Rube Rocket. the Tent Detective. ‘

t

491 ll
‘71 The

526 Death-Grip, the TcndertootDetectivc.
507 The Drummer Detective.

432 The Giant Horseman.

ans Sleepless Eye, the Pacific Detective.

BY PERCY B. 81‘. JOHN.
as The Big Hunter: or. The Queen of the Woo“

 

59' The Silent Hunter.

mr was. G. pints.

641 Aztec Jack. the Desert Nomad.

631 Colonel Cool, the Santa Fe Sharp.

502 Cs tain Nameless. the Mountain Mystery.
571 OllYDlsmai. the Ban 2 Detective.

545 Hustler Harry. the wboy Sport.

BY GEOBGB 8T. GEOBGBo

417 Tucson Tom: or. The Fire Trailers.
196 Duncan, the Sea Diver.

MISCELLANEOUS.

566 The Dauntless Detec-Livo: or, The Dough. r‘ 
Avenger. By TomW.King. ,
542 The Ocean Drift; or, The Fight for Two Hus. V '_
By a F. Holt. _ H
534 Grown Mountain Joezor The Conniertcitc's
Cave. B Marmaduke Day. .
518  Ric ard. the Thoroughbred; By J. W.
s n.
410 Sarah Brown. Detective. B K. F. Hill.
366 Th-s- Telegraph Detective. y George H. Horns.
3.33 Bart Brennan; or, The King 01' Straight Flush.
. Dr John Cuthbert.
350 Flash Falcon. Society Detective. By W. J. Cobb. w
812 Kim-mot. Karl, the Mountain Scourge. By W
ris Redwing. ,
275 T e Smuggle Cutter. BIyJ. D. Conroy.
961 lm‘k Sam. the Prairie hunderbolt. By 0.1. "

J o Kurds.
190 The '1‘ was Guardsmen. B Alexander Dung, 4

179 Conrad, the Convict. . of. Gilderslecvc.’ »

I ma Owlvt. the Robber Prince. 13v 8. R. Urban.

1 158 The Doomed Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell.

1553 Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief.

116 The Doctor Detective. George Lemuel. ‘

144 The Hunchback of Notre me. By Victor E... _ “ 'n’"
140 The Three Spaniards. By Geo. Walker. ,
133 Rod the Rover. By William Carleton.

125 The locksmith Outlaw. By H. Ainsworth.

110 The Silent Rifleman. By H. W. Herbert:

1092 The Masked Band By George L. Aiken.

78 The Mysterious S y. By Arthur M. Grain".

76 The ecn’s Mus 'etccrs. By George Albany. *1 ‘ *3
58 The ighting Trapgr. Byéfapt. J. F. C. Adana. ‘ '
50 Wide Awake. the bbcr ing. By F. Duncan,

52 B'ho of Yale: or, The Scraper. of Collegian}

11 Mids ipman Easy. By Captain Marryatt.

10 Vidooq. the French Police .py. By himsol.

9 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.

6 Wildcat Bob. By Edward L. Wheeler.
A new issue every Wednesday. > .
lBwo'gdlle’s gums Library is fortsgylo ,1)! II

c caers. ncentapercoia orsen mafia
receipt of twelve cents each. DLE & ADAII.
Publishers. 98 William street. New York. ' h V

\

 

 

 

   

BEADLE’SrDIMErIlBR/XRY.

 

.__

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

645 Gopher Gabe, the Unseen Detective.

636 Dandy Darling. Detective.

627 Mossback Mose, the Mountaineer.

617 The Grip-Sack Sharp‘s Even up.

597 Big Bandy, the Brigadier of Brimstone Butte.
588 Sandy Sands. the Sharp from Snap City.

576 Silver—Tongued Sid; or. Grip Sack Sharp’s Sweep.

564 The Grip-Sack Sharp: or. The Seraphs 01' Sodom. i

555 Grip—Sack Sid. the Sample Sport.
547 The Buried Detective; or, Saul’s Six Sensations.
541 Major Magnet, the Man of Nerve.
535 Dandy Dutch. the Decorator from Dead-Lift.
527 Dandy Andy, the Diamond Detective.
514 Gabe Gunn. the Grizzlilfrom Ginseng.
504 Solemn Saul. the Sad an from San Saba.
495 Rattlepate Rob; or. The Roundhead‘s Reprisal.
488 The Thoro hbred Sport.
474 Dadd Dea -Eye. the Despot of Dew Drop.
466 Old ugh and Ready. the Sage of Sundown.
458 Dutch Dan. the Pilgrim from Spitzenberg.
450 The Rustler Detective.
443 A Cool Hand; or, Pistol Johnny‘s Picnic.
438 Oklahoma Nick.
433 Laughing Lee; or. Sam‘s Dandy Pard.
426 The Ghost Detective; or. The Secret Service Spy.
416 Monte Jim. the Black Sheep of Bismarck.
409 Rob Roy Ranch; or. The Imps of Pan Handle.
403 The Nameless Sport.
395 Deadly Aim. the Duke of Derringers.
387 Dirk bar}. the Ishmael of the Hills.
379 Howling onathan, the Terror from Headwaters.
872 Captain Crisp. the Man with a Record.
367 A Royal Flush: or, Dan Brown‘s Big Game.
360 Jumping Jerry, the Gamecock from Sundown.
355 Storm Steve. the Mad Athlete.
351 Nor‘ est Nick. the Border Detective.
345 Masked Mark. the Mounted Detective.
339 Spread Eagle Sam. the Hercules Hide Hunter.
Charley. the Gold N ugget Sport.
orked Lightning. the Sol tary.
817 Frank Lightfoot. the Miner Detective.
802 Faro Saul. the Handsome Hercules.
292 Moke Homer. the Boss Roustabout.
286 Pistol Johnny; or. One Man in a Thousand.
$3 Sleek Sam. the Devil of the Mines.
257 Death Trap Diggings; or, A Man ’Way Back.
249 Elephant Tom. of Durango.
241 Spitfire Saul. King of the Bustiers.
233 The Old Boy of Tombstone.
201 Pirate of the Placers; or. .1 uin‘s Death Hunt.
197 Revolver Rob: or, The Belle 0 Nugget Camp.
180 Old ‘49; or. The Amazon of Arizona.
170 Sweet William. the Trapper Detective.
165 Joaquin. the Terrible
154 Joaquin, the Saddle King.
141 uinox Tom. the Bully of Red Rock.
127 So Scott, the Masked Miner.
119 Alabama Joe: or. The Yazoo Man-Hunters.
105 Dan Brown of Denver; or. The Detective.
88 Big George: or. The Five Outlaw Brothers.
71 Captain Cool Blade: 01'. Mississippi Man Shark.
67 The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty vs. Crookedness.
64 Double-Sight, the Death Shot.
50 Jack Rabbit, the Prairie Sport.
47 Pacific Pete. the Prince of the Revolver.
45 Old Bull‘s-E e, the Lightnin Shot.
40 Long-Haire Pards; or.The arters of the Plains.
30 Gospel George; or, Fiery Fred. the Outlaw.
28 Three-Fingered Jack. the Road-Agent.

BY JACKSON KNOX-“ Old Hawk.”

643 Castlemaine, the Silent Sifter.
616 Magnus. the Weird Detective.
606 The Drop Detective.
595 Wellborn, the Upper Crust Detective.
582 J oram. the Detective Expert.
574 Old Falcon‘s Double.
561 The Thug King; or. The Falcon Detective's Foe.
548 Falconbridge. the Sphinx Detective.
536 Old Falcons Foe; or. The Detective’s Swell Job.
515 ShortrStop Ma'e. the Diamond Field Detective.
509 Old Falcon. t e Thunderbolt Detective.
501 S ringsteel Steve, the Retired Detective,
494 e Detective’s S y.
485 Rowlock. the Har r_ Detective.
. the Salamander.

477 Dead-arm Brandt.

467 Mainwa '

462 The Circus etective.

451 Griplock. the Rocket Detective.

444 The Magic Detective; or. The Hidden Hand.
424 Hawk eron‘s De uty.

386 Hawk Heron. the alcon Detective.

BY WILLIAM H. MANNING.

646 Dark John. the Grim Guard.
638 Murdock. the Dread Detective.
623 Dangerous Dave the Never-Beaten Detective.
on Alkai Abe the Game Chicken from Texas.
Rustler Ru ° the Round-Up Detective.
585 Dan Dixon's Double.
575 Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives.
v 563 Wyoming Zeke. the Hots ur of Honeysuckle.
551 GaflgoKean the Man wit Backbone.
539 on ubledark. the Wi Detective.
581 Saddle-Chief Kit. the Pra rie Centaur.
521 Paradise Sam. the Nor‘-West Pilot.
513 Texas Tartar. the Man With Nine Lives.
, 506 Uncle Honest. the Peacemaker of Hornets‘ Nest.
498 Central Pacidc Paul. the Mail Train Spy.
492 Border Bullet, the Prairie Sharpshooter.
486 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detective.
479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack.
470 The Duke of Dakota.
463 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator.
455 Yank Yellowbird. the Tall Hustler of the Hills.
449 Bluff Burke King of the Rockies.
442 Wild West Walt. the Mountain Veteran.
437 Deep Duke: or, The Man of Two Lives.
427 The Rivals of Montana Mill
415 Hot Heart, the Detective Stpv.
405 Old Bald . the Brigadier 0 Buck Basin.
3% Wild Di Turpin, the Leadville Lion.

297 Colorado Rube. the Stron Arm of Higggur.
R9 The Gold Dragoon. or. guillornia Bl bound.

Published Every Wediwsday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. '0 Double Numbers.

BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAIIAM.
640 The Rov r’s Ret 'ibulion.

’ 6:35 The Ex Buccaneer; or, The Stigma of Sin.

($30 The Sea Thief

6?!) Red Wings; or, The Goli Seekers of the Bahamas.
615 The Three huccaueers.

610 The Red Flag Row-r; or,White Wings of the Deep.
605 The Shadow Silver Ship.

600 The Silver Ship: or. The Sea Scouts of ’76.

593 The Sea Rebel: or. Red R was of the Revolution.
597 Conrad. the Sailor Spy; or. True Heaits of ’76.

560 The Man from Mexico.

553 Mark Monte. the Mutineer; or. The Branded Brig.
516 The Doomed Whaler; or. The Life Wreck. '
540 The Fleet Scourge; or, The Sea Wings of Salem.
530 The Savages of the Sea. .

524 The Sea Chaser; or. The Pirate Noble.

516 Chatard, the Dead-Shot Duelist.

510 El Moro, the Corsair Commodore.

493 The Scouts of the Sea.

489 The Pirate Hunter; or. The Ocean Rivals.

482 Ocean Tramps ' or. The Desperadoes of the Deep.
476 Bob Brent.the Buccaneer; or. the Red Sea Raider.
469 The Lieutenant Detective: or. the Fugitive Sailor.
457 The Sea Insurgent: or, The Conspirator Son.

446 Ocean Ogre. the Outcast Corsair.

4‘15 The One-Armed Buccaneer.

4&1 The Fatal Fri ate; or. Rivals in Love and War.
425 The Sea Swor ; or. The Ocean Rivals.

418 The Sea Siren; or. The Fugitive Privateer.

899 The New Monte Cristo.

898 The Convict Captian.

388 The Giant Buccaneer; or. The Wrecker Witch.
377 Afloat and Ashore: or. The Corsair Conspirator.
373 Sailor of Fortune; or, The Barnegat Buccaneer.
369 The Coast Corsair: or. The Siren of the Sea.

364 The Sea Fugitive; or. The Queen of the Coast.

> 346 Ocean Guerrillas; or. Phantom Midshipman.

841 The Sea Desperado.
$36 The Magic Ship' or. Sandy Hook Freebooters.
325 The Gentleman Pirate; or. The Casco Hermite.
318 The Indian Buccaneer; or. The Red Rovers.
W The Phantom Puate; or, The Water Wolves.
281 The Sea Owl; or. The Lady Captain of the Gulf.
259 Cutlass and Cross; or. the Ghouls of the Sea.
255 The Pirate Priest; or. The Gambler’s Dau hter.
246 ueen Helen, the Amazon of the Overlan .
235 (1 Lightning the Man of Chance.
B1 The Kid G10ve Miner; or. The Magic Doctor.
224 Black Beard. the Buccaneer.
220 The Specter Yacht; or. A Brother‘s Crime.
216 The Corsair Planter; or. Driven to Doom.
210 Buccaneer Bess. the Lioness of the Sea.
205 The Gambler Pirate; or. Lady of the Lagoon.
198 The Skeleton Schooner; or The Skimmer.
164 l'ne Occa'i Vampire; or. The Castle Heiress. -
131 The Scarlet Schooner: or. The Sea Nemesis.
177 Don Diabio. the Planter—Corsair.
172 Black Pirate: or. The Golden Fetters M stery.
162 The Mad Mariner: or. Dishonored and isowned
15% The Corsair Queen; or, The Gypsies of the Sea.
147 Gold Spur. the Genlleman from Texas.
139 Fire Eye; or. The Bride of a Buccaneer.
134‘ Duke Dan, the Colored Detective.
131 Bucks in Sam. the Texas Trailer. '
128 The Chevalier Corsair; or. The Heritage.
121 The Sea Cadet; or The Rover of the Rigoletts.
116 Black Plume; or, The Sorceress of Hell Gate.
109 Captain Kyd. the King of the Black Flag.
104 Montezuma. the Merciless.
103 Merle, the Mutineer; or. The Red Anchor Brand.
94 Freelance. the Buccaneer.
89 The Pirate Prince; or. The Queen of the Isle.
85 The Cretan Rover' or. aneikah the Beautiful.
2 The Dare Devil; or, The Winged Sea Witch.

BUFFALO BILL NOVELS.

Numbers 2 are from the pm of Bufl'alo Bill.
644 Buffalo Bill’s Bonanza.
I"639 The Gold King; or, Montebcllo. the Magnificent.
629 Dare eath Dick' or, Buffalo Bill's Daring Role.
‘599 The sad Shot ine; or. My Pards of the Plains
517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail.
I"414 Red Renard. the Indian Detective.
*401 One-Armed Pard; or, Borderland Retribution.
l'397 The Wizard Brothers: or. White Beavers Trail.
*394 White Beaver. the Exile of the Platte.
362 Buffalo Bill’s Grip; or Oath Bound to Custer.
329 The League of Three: or. Buffalo Bill’s Pledge.
*319 Wild Bill. the Whirlwind of the West.
'304 Texas Jack. the Prairie Rattler.
‘243 The Pi in Sha : or. The Soldier's Sweetheart
189 Wild B l‘s Gold rail; or. The Desperate Dozen
175 Wild Bill‘s Trump Card: or. The lndian Heiress
168 Wild Bill the Pistol Dead Shot.
92 Buflalo sin. the Buckskin King.
l'83 Gold Bullet Sport; or. Knights of the Overland.
‘52 Death-Trailer, the Chief o Scouts.

BY J. C. COWIDIIICK.

6% Ducats Dion, the Nabob Sport Detective.

612 Sher-ii! Stillwood, the Regulator of Raspberry.
598 The Dominic Detective.

591 Duke Daniels. the Society Detective.

580 Shadowing a Shadow.

565 Prince Paul. the Postman Detective.

557 The Mountain Graybeards; or, Riddles‘ Riddle.
519 Old Riddles. the Rocky Ranger

499 Twilight Charlie. the Road Sport.

473 Gilbert of Gotham, the Steel-arm Detective.

452 Rainbow Rob. the Tulip from Texas.

436 Kentucky Jean, the Sport from Yellow Plus.
422 Blue Grass Burt. the Gold Star Detective.

390 The Giant Cupid: or Cibuta John’s Jubilee.

BY COLONEL BELLE SARA.

196 Shamus O‘Brien. the Bould Boy of Glingal.
87 The Scarlet Captain; 01-. Prisoner of the Tower.

 

53 Silver Sam; or, The Mystery of Deadwood City.

BY ALBERT IV. AIKEN.

647 The Fresh of Frisco at Santa Fe.

637 Joe Phenix in Crazy Camp.

632 Joe. l’lienix‘s Master Search.

628 Joe Plienix’s Combine.

620 Joe Phenix’s Silent Six.

613 Keen Billy, the Sport.

607 Old Benzine, the “ Hard Case " Detective
601 Joe Phenix’s Shadow.

594 Fire Face. the Silver King‘s Foe.

E 58.3 The Silver Shar bet 1. .
581 The Outlawui Skipper; or, The Gantlet Runner. ' p ec we

577 Tom of California.

570 The Actress Detective; or, The Invisible Hal

562 Lone Hand. the Shadow.

556 Fresh. the Sport-Cheva‘ier_

537 Blake, the Mountain Lion.

529 The Fresh in New York.

520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo.

497 The Fresh in Texas.

490 The Lone Hand in Texas.

475 Chin Chin. the Chinese Detective.

465 The Actor Detective.

461 The Fresh on the Rio Grande.

440 The High Her e of the Pacific.

425 The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants.

419 The Bat 01‘ the Battery ; or. Joe Phenix. Detectiva.

408 Doc Grin. the Vendetta of Death.

391 Kate Scott. the Decoy Deteciive. .

384 Injun Dick. Detective: or. Tracked to New York,

381 The Gyggy Gentleman; or, Nick Fox. Detective.

376 Black ,ards: 01. The Rio Grande liiih Horse.

370 The Dusky Detective: or. Pursued to 6 End.

363 Crowningshield. the Detective ‘

354 Red Richard; 0i The Crimson Cross Brand.

349 Iron-Hearted Dii k. the Gentieman Road-Agent-

320 The Genteel Spotter; or The N. Y. Night Hawk.

252 The Wail Street Blood; or. The Telegralph Girl..

206 The Double Detective; or.The Midnig t ystery.

196 La Marmoset. the Letsctive Queen.

173 Cilifornia J ohn. the Pacific Thoroughbred.

161 The Wolves of New York;or. Joe Phenix’s Hunt.

130 Captain Volcano or. The Man of Red Revolvers,

112 Joe Phenix. Private Detective.

107 Richard Talbot. of Cinnabar.

101 The Man from New York.

97 Bronze Jack. the California Thoroughbred.

93 Captain Dick Talbot. King of the Road.

91 The Winning Oar: or. The Innkeeper's Daughter.

84 Hunted Down: or. The League of Three.

81 The Human‘Tiger: or. A Heart of Fire.

79 Joe Phenix. the Police Sp . '

77 The Fresh of Frisco; or. e Heiress.

75 Gentleman George: or. Parlor. Prison and Street.
3 The Phantom Band: or. The 5th Avenue Heiress.

63 The Winged Whale: or, The Red Rupert oi Gulf.

59 The Man from Texas; or. The Arkansas Outlaw.

49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kanawha Queen.

42 The California Detective; or, The Witches of N.Y.
41 Gold Dan: or. The White Sav e of Salt Lake.
38 Velvet Hand; or. Injun Dick‘s ron Grip. ‘
36 Injun Dick; or. The Death-Shot of Shasta. . -
35 Kentuck the Sport: or. Dick Talbot of the Mines.
34 Rocky Mountain Bob. the California Outlaw.

33 Overland Kit: or, The id 1 of While Pine.

31 The New York Shar ; or. he Flash of Li htning.
27 The Spotter Detective: or. Girls of New ork.

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

648 Gold Glove Gid. the Man of Grit: or, Desperate
Durg’s Desperate Scheme. By Wm. G. Patten.

649 Buck Taylor. the Saddle King; or The Lasso
ngers’ League. By Col. Prentiss lugraham. y

650 Lucky Lester‘s Lone Hand; or. Uncle Bed Rock's
Queer Game at Ginger Flat. By Wm. B. Eystcr.

651 Silvertip Steve, the Sk Scraper from Siskiyou.
By Joseph E. Badger. r.

652 Jackson Blake. the Bouncer Detective. By A.
W. Aiken

653 The Lasso Ki ’3 Le e. A com anion Story
to “ Buck Tayllogr. the die King.’ By Coloneh
Prentiss Ingraham. ,

654 Sol Sphinx, the Ferret Detective; or. The Seven
Secrets. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

655 Strawbe Sam, the Man with the Blrthmark‘
or. The Wrzr-Clan of Lucifer Annex. By Willian;
H. Manning. Th

656 Old Plug Ug] .the Rough and Read - or 9
Last Stroke 0 the Land Sharks. By William G.
Patten

357 Long Tom. the Privateer. By Ned Buntline.

658 The Cowboy Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas. By
Col. Prentiss Ingrahsm.

659 Gilt-Edge Johnny; or, Roldan and His Rovers.
By Wm. R. Eysier. J

660 The Fresh in Montana: or. 110an Blake’s Fun
Hand at Hardtack. By Albert W. Aiken.

661 The Get-There Sh ; or. Grip- ck Sid at Rocky
Comfort. By Joel“;. Badger. Jr.

662 The Jew Detective; or, The Beautiful Convict.
By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

663 The Giant Sport; or, Sold to Satan. By Wm. G.

Patten.
664 Monk More the Man-Hun‘er- or, TheTrail of
the Bandit abob. By Capt. oward Holmes.
Ready July 15.

665 The Frisco Detective; or. The Golden Gate Find.
By Albert W. Aiken.
Ready July 22.
.4 new issue every Wednesday.

Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by .n
Newsdealers. ten cents per copy. or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Pusbsnas.

 

 

 

as William Street. New York.

56 The Indian Mazeppa; or, Madman of the Plains. ’

I