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yrighted. 894. by BEADLE AND ADAMS.

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geadle g’v fldarns, QDLZbZiShQT‘S,

98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK.

Published Every
Wednesday.

 

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\\\\;\§\\:_\\\\ 1 ‘Hll Ni  l. W

UPBOOTED FROM HIS FOOTHOPD, OLD GRIP WAS UNCEREMONIOUSLY HURLED
INTO THE ABYSS.

Esmme AS SECOND CLASS MATTER AT THE NEW YORK. N. Y.. POST OFFICE.

 

 

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1 ll'Hll.1

November 14. 1894. 1‘

Vol. LXV.

'l‘en Cents a Copy.
$5.00 a Year.

BANK RUBBEHS ROUND-UP.

BY JACKSON KNOX, (OLD HAWK.(

CHAPTER 1.
THE MOUNTAIN ROAD.

MID-AFTERNOON o! a dull, threatening Octo-
ber day, in the upper, semi-mountainous part
of Westcheeter count , within twenty-flVe or
thirty miles of the ew York City boundrry
line. after a Baeeon of stormy rains. which had
badly washed and gullied the country roads,
rugged and uncured-for at their best, besides
perceptiny hastening the rich autumnal tint.
ings of the woods.

A countrified-appearing man of middle age‘
accompanied by an odd-looking little fellow,
boyish in size but mannish of visage. and with
tour huge milk-cane lashed in the rear of tin-
eeat, was driving in a backboard wagon over

 

2.

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

\.

 

the Whippoorwill Road, one of the craggiest
and most breakneck of the pseudo—highways of
that decidedly craggy and breakneck region.

“Humph!” muttered the man, reining up a
little at the head of a particularly steep and
crooked descent. “ Three days in this accursed,
chaw—bacon country-side, without so much as
a sniff of our fugitive yet. And there's the
Haunted House once more, which I had expected
so much of—ramshccl-zle and forbidding and
deserted-looking as ever!”

Suddenly his companion grasped his arm as
the wagon made a sudden lurch to one side, ac-
companied by a. shying movement of the horse
—a sorry- looking, shaggy brute, with many a
burdock burr in his mane and tail.

“ Easy there, boss, or we’re into that gully!”
he cried. ” (éoshtalmightyl how the water does
.rush along here!”

The other righted the vehicle by a skillful
and powerful movement of the guiding hand.

The house alluded to was a Singulurly isolated
and lonely one.

It was perched considerably back from the
road on a rocky little side—rise out of the wild
and craggy hollow in which they were descend-

ln .

Its neglected, weed-grown grounds backed
against a sheer and bioken line of rugged, in-
accessible—seeming clifl‘s, suggestive alike of
snakes and eagles, a narrow foot—bridge at their
lower edge crossing the gully-water that came
tearing and l‘rothing by like a mill-race.

“ Hush l’7 whispered the buckboard driver,
casing up with a slow pull at the foot of the hill.

A woman had unexpectedly stepped out of
the uncanny house.

Motioning them to stop, she was coming to-
ward them with a letter in her hand.

A robust, graceful figure, poorly clad; a head
and face perhaps attractive. but almost wrapped
out of sight by an old plaid shawl.

“ Please, sir!” she called out, crossing the
bridge,“ are you going to Chanpaqua with your
milk? And if you are, will you post this letter
for me i”

“ Lor’, ma‘m !” cried the man, with a sudden
bumpkin-like awkwardness of voice and man-
ner; “how you did startle we-’unsl We took
you for a. ghost."

There was an im atient flash from a air of
very bright and b ack eyes back under t e rag-
ged fringes of the improvised hood.

“Povert isn‘t a chooser, my man,” she re-
plied, as forcing herself to an explanation,
“ and even a haunted roof is better than none.
Besides, this one happens to be mine—a family
possession.” ,

“ Oh, Lor’, ma'ml and be you the lady what
"was horned here, an’ left the place to go to rack
an’ ruin so many years ago 2!"

“Yes, yes; and I have noticed you ing
and repassing for several days. But you aven’t
answered my request."

“By J ukes! neitherI have. Do forgive me,
ma’m; for I’m nat’rally mrt of skeery an'
creepish, you see. Will I post the letter for you
sit Chapp ual Why, of course, ma’m, and
welcome! ‘d even take it to the city for on,
it it mought be meant for some one in ork,
ma’m.”

The woman scrutinized him with a swift,
piercing look.

“ Where have you been employed?" she de-
manded, with a sudden superiority of tone and

manner.
“ Back Armonk-ways, ma‘m, on old Grub-
man’s big milk-farm,” was the reply.
“ And you are uitting your employment?”

“ Yes, ma’m. on hours a day, with starving
wages, hard grub and worse cider, sort of broke
us up. 80 me and little Jimmy here done gived
the old man notice last ni ht. And now, arter
shippin’ these cans an’ tak n‘ on the empty ones,
we be going to stall this crow-baiti Tompkins’s
stable, accordin’ to orders, an’ then ight out for
the big city, where they do say as how a likely
brace of fellers such as we—‘uns kin git rich in
less’n no time.”

“ But you haven‘t any baggage with you?"
suspiciously, after a glance over he wagon and
its contents. ‘

“ Haw! hawl haw l" guflawed the man, while
his little companion sympathetically nod
tromcarto car. “No, ma’m; we don ginor-
ally have what we hain’t got.”

‘ You may not and it so easyto get rich in the
great city as you imagine.” _

“ 0h, 'r’a s not, ma’m,” With a knowing
leer. “ ut llm up to snuff, ma’m, and little
Jimmy here ’11 be under in wing.”

“ You have already live in the city, thenfj’

“ For several ears, ma’m. Druv a milk-
route for two of em. and then was stableman’s
assistant with the hoes-cars at a dollar and a

uarter a day. A dollar—and-a—quarter!
'nk of it, ma’ml J eewhiz! how ’d I drift
back up here in Westchester ag’in? I’ve been
'clubbin' myself with that question ever Since:
but now I’m back for old York in a bee-line, you
bet'”

“It might be safer," said the woman, half to
herself. ‘ to communicate with him by hand
than by mail.” I

“P, Then she asked aloud: “ What is your name,
Sir

“ Thomas Cook, ma’m.”

“ Do you know the city pretty well?”

“Like a book, ma’mi Druv a. milk-route,
fu’st in Harlem, then down in Yorkville, then
in the old eighth ward, and then—”

She interrupted him with a sharp gesture and
handed him the letter in her hand.

“ Road that address,” she said, “ and tell me
if you can deliver the letter without delay this .
evening.”

The otter was plainly addressed, in a bold
though feminine hand,to “ Mr. Henry Moresby,
Care EtnaSteam Laundry, —— East 85th street,
New York.”

But the man turned it over and over in his
brown hands with a nonplused, sheepish look,
and then scratched his head without replying.

“What! perhaps you can’t read?” eagerly
exclaimed the woman.

“ Well, you see, ma’m,~ some folks’s eddyca—
tion hez been 'tended to, while then ag’in some
other folks’s-” '

“ I kin!" pipingly interposed the man’s weaz-
en-faced little companion, with a great air of
pride. ” I kin. please, ina’m, if Tom can’t."

And snatching the letter, he slowly, but ac-
cumltely spelled out the superscription, word by '
WOI'l .

“ He’s an awful learnt boy, ma’m,” comment-
ed the man, repossessing himself of the letter.
“ Aha! but eddycation’s a big thing—when it
hain't been neglected.”

“ You can carry the letter to the address
now?”

“ Sartaiu,ma’ml East 85th street, eh? Why,
it’s in my fu’st milk-route!“

“ You must be sure that no one suspects you
of having the letter till you reach the Etna
Steam Laundry. It’s very important.”

The man gravely nodded and put the letter
carefull, away in an inside pocket.

‘ ‘ If r. Moresby should not be on hand to re-
ceive it, you will leave it for him with Mrs.
Griscom, the forewoman of the establishment.”

“Yes, nia’m.” -

“ And, in either case, upon your relating the
circumstances under which you have been
chosen my messenger, you will rucoive five dol—
lars for your trouble.”

Both man and boy looked at the woman half-
aghast,,wide—mouthed and starin -eyed.

“ Five dollars 1" all but yeficd the man.
“ D’ 6 mean it, ma’m l”

“ do,” smiling.

“Gee up, and git along there, Dobbin! Five
dollarsl Jeewhizl didn’t I an old York war
the place to git rich in on t e hop, skip and
jump? All right, ina’m. Youru furever, until
death do us part, is old Tom Cook!"

And, with an enthusiastic crack of the whip,
horse, backboard and occupants were up and
away along the lonely road, while the woman
returned to her strange abode with an air of
having concluded an unexpectedly satisfactory
bar sin.

0 sooner however, had a turn in the road
been reach , not far away, than the horse was
unceremoniously guided into a leafy forest
opening nearpt hand.

Here the man tossed the reins to his compan-
ion and briskl leaped to the ground.

“Just asI oped all alongl”he exclaimed,
rapidly sheddingdhis outer garments,piece by
piece. “Maud arkham,altasM aret Ship-
man herself! The clew, Cheesoit, t e longed-
forc ewl Whoeverthis‘Henr Moresby’may
be. I‘m pret certain it can’t 8 Claude Mark-
ham, alias larence Slii man, her suspected
bank-thief of a. husban . He’s like enough
nearer at hand; though that is what I must
make sure of. Wait here i”

In the mean time the personality of the
gawky countryman had disa peared to give
glues to that of our erstwhi e acquaintance,

dwarcll Crimmins, otherwise 01d Grip, the De-
tective '

CHAPTER II.
A snoairr or ran nooxs.

HAVING effected this transformation the do-
tective straightway sprung in among the trees,
and began to scale a steep romontory, or spur,
of the adjoining rocks, w ich now separated
this im rovioed little wayside nook from the
Haunt House.

Old Grip was no less agile at cliff-clambering
than in his various other fields of activity.

In less than ten minutes, he had 'ned a
dizzy, bush-masked outlook on the si e of the
main crag, a few paces from a scarcely r-
ceptible path or trail winding ug from be ow,
and commanding the rear of t e o (1 house, with,
its contiguous grounds. ,

Not a moment too soon.

Hardly had he settled himself in his nook be-
fore the rear door opened, and the woman step-

ed out upon a rickety little porch, or covered

anding, connecting it with the beginning of the
path at the foot of the hill. 1

Her head and face, no longer concealed by
the disfiguring shawl, were those of a superbly
handsome woman of thirty or thereabouts—a
nobly beautiful brunette, with brilliant black

 

 

e es. resolute but delicately-chiseled features,
'3 ining black and abundant hair, becomingly

arranged, and a rich, glowing complexion sug-
gestive of a sun-browned peach. ,

There was a corresponding elegance and even
queenliness in her tall, graceful figure, despite
her cheap and seemingly ill—fitting gown.

Her entire demeanor was intensely watchful
and alert, with swiftly-suspicious glances that
seemed to take in her entire surroundings with
a. comprehensive, yet microscopic sweep, and
she carried in one hand a large basket, covered
with a clean white napkin neatly tucked in at

he ed es.

“ So!” thought the observant detective; “ pro-
visions for her fugitive husband, somewhere
hidden away amon these rocky solitudes, or
i’m a sinner. Aha but will she suspect that
the bank—thief’s Nemesis will be silentlyshadow-
ing her on this revealing mission?”

Apparently satisfied that the loneliness of her
retreat was inviolable, the woman set down her
basket.

Then, by a sudden movement, her gown was
parted down the middle from throat to feet,
and she stepped out of it in masculine attire—as
fair—seemin r a young tourist as ever disported
in trim jadltet and knickerbockcis, aipenstock
in hand, or joined in a ’cross—country rush with
a hare and—hounds club.

Only an appropriate head-covering was lack-
ing, and this she straightway provided out of a.
little closet at the end of the porch, in theshape
of a broad-brimmed, light—colored widenwa is
but, which put the finishing touch upon her pic-
turesque transformation.

Then, tossing the discarded gown into the
closet, she picked up the basket and at once set
out up the path. wasting upon that desert air
(save for the concealed detective’s spying eyes)
as pretty and jaunty a picture of youth-oping
femininity as ever a stage Rosalind put forth
for public approval in the comedy of “ As You
Like It.”

No play-acting here, however; for as she
tripped up the path the detective caught the
gleam of a revolver-butt from the hip-pocket of
the knickerbockcrs; and moreover, there was
a set, anxious look on the dark, resolute face
that betokened a full consciousness of danger
and difficulty ossible at any turn.

Searcer had) Old Grip made these reflections
before the trim figure flitted past his nook,
springing lightly and strongly as directly up the
face of the mountain as the crookedness of the
faint trail would admit.

A moment later, after due allowances for her
to get well on in advance, he was following with
9. Silent, sleuthing step up the trail.

d This momentarily grew more difficult and ar-
nous.

Indeed, on his taking a his temporary resi-
dence thereabouts severe. days previous, Old
Grip had been surprised: as is nearly every one
on visiting those parts for the first time, at the
wildness and savagery of the semi-mountainous
scenery as existing at but an hour’s railroad jog
northward from the metro lis.

But even he was scarce prepared for the
rugged desolateness throng which that brief
chase up the face of Whippoorwill Mountain so
swiftly led him. _

There were gloomy chasm: and gorges one af-
ter another; precipices hundreds of feet high,
along the ragged brinks of which the path
wound like a tangled thread; and many another
forbidding and yet nd feature of crag and
forest that one wo d have more readily ima-
gined of the heart of the Rock Mountains or
the Sierra Nevadas themselves, t an in that old-
time Revolutionary strip of the zigzag Con-
necticut border; with perhaps a well-to-do
farm-house, or a little shoomaking hamlet, nes-
tling here and there, to left or right. almost
anywhere within gunshot, if thewanderer there-
:inong only knew the way to spy or search for

t

The pursuer was seemingly as light of foot
and strong of step as the us g fugitive,
and, dcdb the faint soul: of her progresg
in vanco, t on h with seldom a glimpse of
her clamborlng am he kept on patiently,
d edly and noiseleosl .in her track.

last, however, on just as he was thread-
in'g the verge of a steep, deep gor e, thick]
overgrown with bushes and stun trees, lag
ear caught a cessation in the guiding sounds,
and he came to a dead stop in a crouching atti-
tude, his hearin strained to the utmost.

Yes; there co d be no doubt of it.

The woman had come to a sudden
now he could hear a low murm
voices in cautious converse. .

Eager to overhear, he was about to continue
creepmgly along the dizzy path, when a most
frequent and dangerous denizen of those West-
chester rock-wilds—a copperhead snake—skulk—
ed out of a crannyto the left, and coiled itself
threatening] before him.

The detect ve started back ;then, with a swim,
silent movement, crushed the sluggish re tile’a‘
penny-shaped head under his grlnding hee .

But the detention, brief as it had been, was
sufficient for him to miss the greater part; 01'
what he had been so anxious to overhear. '

This was all he caught. and that in the wo—
man’s voice:

“ I will find him there then. You patrol back.

use,'and
g, u I

 

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

3

 

 

l
along the trail, to guard against the mere os- | never at any time to any considerable distance,

sihiuty of my steps having been dogged.
know that last word I had from Moreshy warn-
ed me of Old Grip, the Detective, being on the
scent somewhere hereabouts.”

Then there was only the speaker’s footsteps,
rapidly and lightly, on up among the yet wilder
rocks.

What mysterious patrol had she thushaltedto
exchange words with en pass-ant?

Not another sound, save those of her own re-
treating footsteps up the hizht; and those were
growing fainter and fainter—were now gone.

Still on the verge of the dizzy gorge, the de—
tective was about to hurry on in pursuit ere the
object of his quest shoulvl vanish, when there
was a sort of snarl, the parting of the sumac
boughs directly in front, and he was abruptly
contronted by an ominous and formidable
shape.

It was that of Moses Crust, otherwise the
Hermit of the Rocks, or the Wild Shoemaker of
Whippoorwill.

This was a stran e and eccentric character of
the country side, a most as notorious in his wa
as, though less widely known than, the “ Old
Leather Man ” himsel . .

None knew of his exact abode, save that it
was in some mysterious den 11 among the wild
snake, fox and skunk-haunted intricacies of the
rock-wilderness thereabouts. .

The man assumed to be mildly insane, made
his appearance at uncertain periods among the
village and farm folks to dispose of his snake-
oil for harness-dressmg or as a specific, and was
suspected of being responsmle for the numerous
_ ious injunctions, such as, “ Come to J esusl”

‘ Repent or be Damned!” rt (11., which had for

years mysteriously stenciled the roadside rocks ‘

and fences throughout a rather wide range of
country.

Old ‘rip had never met this queer character
before, though hearing much of him, and was
now hardly less surprised, not to say startled,
than if as abruptly confronted by the J ibben-
onasay himself the whilom renowned hero of
that old-time fndian romance, “The Nick of
the Woods.”

Gigantic in size and cadaverous of aspect,
the hermit was grotesquely garbed in fluttering
ta 3.

is white-bearded face worea set melancholy,
almost mild expression, but his eyes, glaring
out from amid scattered elf-locks of grayish
hair, were fierce with a stern, suspicious li ht
and the grimy hand which he suddenly aid
upon the detective’s arm seemed as formidable
as the paw of a grizzly bear. ,

“Spyin’ anl snoopin’ an’ dodgin’, eh?” mut-
tered this queer character, with a certain
menace in his voice and manner. “ 0h he! the
detective, and I’m bettin’ on itl Young teller,
better repent or be damned, fur Eternity is be-
fore yer! ’

CHAPTER III.

SOMETHING OF A SET-BACK.

“ALLOW me to roceed, if on please, in

1 00d man,” said 01 Grip, calm y. ‘ The pat
s narrow, as you will perceive—”

He was interrupted by the Hermit suddenly

feiziifig him in his mightyemhrace, with a bars
an .

“ a, ha, hal” roared the latter. “ Path nar-
rer eh? Should say it was, with the vengeance
of the Eternal above, and the Bottomless Pit
beside it! Into it you go, my dprecious devil l"

The detective could conten with the man’s
all but superhuman strength but for a fleeting

instant.

thletic courageous skilled in the pagilist’s
an wrestler’s art as he was, and wit no op-
portunity for drawing his revolver, he was no
more in that tremendous grip than a dry branch
in the maw of a whirlwind.

Uprooted from his foothold, Old Grip was un-
ceremoniousl hurled into the ab as, while high
over the precapitous ledge rose a strange be-
:lng‘s maniac laugh ruthless and insensate as
the tempest’s above the sailor doomed.

' There was a crash, as the detective went fall-
ing through the bushes outfowing from the
upper side of the chasm, t on a yet louder
crash, a sudden shock and wrench, and his
plunge was stayed.

Stretching out his arms, and strugin into a
half-sitting, half-suspended attitude, 0 d Grip
looked about him. ’

He was midway down in a thick-bowerlng
tree-top at the bottom of the gorge.

Fortunately, however? on might almost say
miraculously—he wasvvit out serious bruise or
injury of an description, save some slight
scratches on s hands and_neck.

To scramble down from hisinviiluntaryperch,
and then out of the doc and narrow cleft or
gor e in which he foun himself, was but the

war of a few minutes.

Then, after a turn or two. around the corner
of a great rock, he found himself, much to his
surprise, in a piece of comparatively open
ground, with the rear of the Haunted House not
onl once more in sight, but close at hand.

BYis pursuit of the fugitive had evidently led
him unawares high up among the make, though

Olll

 

in a lateral direction, from his starting-point at
the foot of the hill.

Hardly had he made these observations when
ste iswere heard re-descending the adjacentpath.

hen he just had time to conceal himself
when Maud Markham, carrying her basket,
new empty, and accompauie by the hermit,
made her appearance, with the pleased and
assured air of having accomplished a difficult
mission thoroughly and well.

“ Wait my sister!” said the Hermit, coming
to a sudden pause at the foot of the rocks, and
touching his companion’s arm with his massive
ham’i’. ‘ Here, as thou knowest, we must separ—
ate.

Thc woman, who was looking shapelier than
ever in her trim tourist’s costume, which ad-
vantaged her fine figure so picturesquely, turned
toward him ii glowing face, in which there was
asympathetic mingling of commiseration and
attachment.

“ Nay, Moses,” she replied. “ But come with
me first into the house, that we may converse
more at our ease.”

Moses frowned and shook his head.

“ Not so, my sister,” he made answer. “ There
can be little more for us to say at present. And,
moreover, thou knowest I have long since for—
sworn the habitutions of sinful man.”

“ But, Moses,”with a laugh, “the old house
now is but the habitation of ghosts, if one may
believe the ossip of the ignorant.”

“ Iknow, know!” decidedly; “but not even
therein will I enter.”

“ As if we were not both born in it, in the old
sweet Long Ago, when the world and its wick-
edness were as nothing, or unguessed l”

He again shook his head more peremptorin
than before.

“ And,” she went on, half-railingly, ” as if
you didn't secretly lit up the old rooms and their
furniture for my re—occupanc , when, terrified
and hunted, I brought my be oved and perse-
cuted one hereabouts for hiding i”

“The Lord permitted,and your emergenc
was great, my ittle sister. Fear not but that I
will continue to watch over thee; but now we
must separate. My pious duties and my unfin-
ishcd prayers summon me commandineg to my
hermit’s cell.”

“But wait! This man, this spy whom you
so fortunately intercepted, think you he was the
remorseless detective we have such cause to
dread?”

“ I know he was stealtth tracking thee,
which was enough for me.”

“ What was he like?”

" How should I know or care? I gripped and
hurled him on the instant, powerful and sinewy
as he proved, though of no avail against m'e, of
course.”

“Nay; but you must have remarked some-
thing of the man’s appearance?”

“ Perhaps so: such vanities will force them-
selves upon even the most godly at times.”

“ What was he to look upon, in brother!"

“ Middle—aged, handsome and ark, the form
of an athlete, the eye of an eagle, a voice low,
softly modulated, and yet With a steely ring
therein suggestive of the blade of steel within
the velvet scabbard, agile of movement, resolute
of look, a jaw of iron, lips secret and com—
pressed. There, there! Vanities, vanities, all
vanitiesl”

The woman had clinched her hand, a troubled
frown gathering upon the dark, comely face, as
perceived under her slouched hat-brim.

“ The same 1" she exclaimed, in a choking, re-
sentful voice; “Old Grip himself, the iron de-
tective. But,”——-eagerly—“ you hurled him to
destruction, Moses—you are sure of that?”

A look of fanatical satisfaction crossed the
Hermit’s wild, Lear-like visage.

“ Verily, the ways of the unrighteous are to-
ward the yearning pits,” he replied, with a
species of exalted chuckle, “ and the devil has
got his own i”

“Nay,nayi” with some impatience; “these
rhapsodies apart, are you sure, Moses, that he
was hurled to death?”

513.3%?" if] Sin’dgii" flaw“ will?

r p egma . 0 went

ri ht into the heart 0 the chasm, andpas nag
as could estimate directly at the spot where
the deep pit opens its gaping aws near the foot
of the great tree in its rock 001'. Ha, ha, ha!
Dost not remember, when t on wast but a child,
how I was wont to tumble the eat stones
therein, and how thy sunburn little face
would pale and th black eyes stare to hearken
to their downwar reverberations grow fainter
and fainter till lost amid the soundless do the
that seemed to have no bottomi—A fit on hl
type, my dear,” complacentl , “of that Bo
tomless pit of the Hereafter. t at immeasurable
flame-crypt ofpunishment into which the souls
of the recalcitrant and the damned are irre-
trievably buried, there to remain, howling,
scorching and sizzling forever and ever! Dost
remember?”

Maud gave a shudder, which was more than
reflected by the concealed listener, who had re-
marked the pit—entrance alluded to in his first
descent out of the savin treetop in the gorge,
and was new first 6 aware, through these

i

 

gloating and fanatical words, of the additional
narrowuess of his escape from death.

“ Do I remember?” repeated the young wo-
man. “ I should sa sol And now, to think of
a human being, a ellow creature— But no!”
with a passionate gesture and sudden efl‘acec
ment of a remorsefui expression that had fleet—
ingly leaped into manifestation: “ the ruthless
the implacable sleuth-houndl Would he not
have hounded my beloved, my innocent Claude,
into State Prison gates?”

“ Ahal But, since you are so sure of your
husband’s innocence of crime, were it not as
well, little sister, for him to follow my first ad-
vice i”

“ Whatl give himself up to the minions of the
law?”

“ Just so, little sister.”

“ That they might convict him upon the hired
false testimony of his whilom evil associates?—
niy wifer cure upon their coward heads I"

“Not so; but that he might prove his inno-
cence, and perhaps, in doing so, bring the real
bank robbers to justice.”

“ Moses, in the present ublic and police tem-
peg, it would be impossib e. Moresby is sure of

“ Aha, that Moresby you talk about and trust
so implicitly—~a satanic agent in disguise, per—
haps l”

“ N 0; but my husband‘s truest friend. Claude
is sure of it.”

“ Humphl and yet a man of mystery and
many names, according to your own acknowl-
edgments."

“ True.” half-reluctantly. “ A strange and a
mysterious man, but still our friend.”

‘ Well, well; time will discover that. And
this man still advises concealment?”

“Yes ' at least until I can hear from him
again. i dispatched a. letter by a private mes—
senger to him to-day—a simple, honest—looking
countryman,on his way to the city—and should
receive a re ly from him within forty-eight
hours at the urthest.”

CHAPTER IV.
wmonn wonns.

Tun Hermit of the Rocks remained buried in
thou ht for a moment, and then said, senten-
tioiis y:

“The Lord's will be done, little sisterl for
doth He not hold the fates of men and nations
and worlds in the hollow of His hand?”

“ Oh, yes, I an so so, Mosos,” responded the
young woman a ttle wearily,for the grotesque
devoutness of or companion seemed o amuse
her impatience no less than her compassion.
“ But what has all that got to do with our mis-
fortunes and distresses?”

“ What i” in mingled condemnation and hay
“ such a query, and from thy lips, little s steri
Sacrilegeand blasphemy—blasphemy, and noth-
in also! Look herel" .

9 produced from somewhere among his rags
an oblong package, wrap ed in oilskin.

Openin this upon a he -topped bowlder near
at hand, 6 took from its interior first some
marking-brushes, together with several color-
slabs of different hues, and then a large collec»
tion of stencil-plates.

Selectin one of these latter, with an air of
great grav ty and discrimination, he next seized
the brush rubbed it hard upon one of the color-
cakes, and then, turnin to a huge broad-sided
rock near at hand, deft y transferred thereon,;
in large, britht-blue letterin , the stenciled in»

unctiqn: “ muonaxon Is mu, sum run
oanl’

“There you are!” he exclaimed, turnin
umphantl‘y to his companion. ‘ Oh, g cry, ,
glory! bu doesn’t that thrill on to the mar-
row, little sisteri But, just ho (1 your horses a _
minute!”

Another selection from the plates, the applica-
tion of a fresh brush nu plied with color mm a
different pigment, and ere was fixed upon the
rock-face, directly beneath the first, a second
inscription in vivid pink lettering: “FOR or
Soon 15 run KINGDOM or Euvniv. Anus!"

“ Oh, but it’s glorious, glorious!” shouted the
Wild Shoemaker of Whippoorwill,in stentorian
tones, his eyes blazing, his white board seeming
to fairly bristle, with excitement. “ Ain’t you
enthused, little sister, ain’t on fairly flopping
over with the divine truth 0 it?” .

“ No, I’m not,” replied the young woman,
bluntly. “In fact it seems to men poor piti-
ful sort of heaven into which the spirit of' ven-
geance can have any abiding-place. Rest, hap-
piness and mercy for all seem to me infinite
preferable. However," she extended her han

‘ you said that we met separate. So be it, at
least for the resent, brother Moses.”

But, he ha slowly fithered up his strange
proselyting paraphern , and was re ing

er with a puzzled ex reesion, as if is few
remaining wits had and only gone wool-gather—

in .

'g‘Hold on, little sister l” he said slowly.
“ Let me see; what was it I wished to ask? Boa -
sides, perhaps it isn’t wholly your fault that
Claude and you are amongthe lost and damned.
You see, comparatively few of us can be among
the fortunate elect— Ah, I have iti The
hank-robbery, of which your poor husband is

m- '1

 

4:

Old Gripr’s Still Hunt.

 

suspected, and which you once gave me some
details of l”

“ Well, Moses?"

“The bank watchman, who was so murder-
ouslyfassaulted, you know i”

6‘ es 1’

“ Is he still alive '3” '

“Yes,” sadly, “and slowly recovering from
the physical shock, I understand, in the hospi-
tal, ut with his reason, it is feared, hopelessly
clouded.”

“ Bad, bad, bad! It is only we of the power-
ful brains, the gifted mentalities, who can fully
appreciate such dire misfortune as that. But,
let me see,” wholly oblivious of her pitying
little smile, “there was something else. Ah, the
stolen money and bonds! Anything recovered,

yet?

“ Not that I know of. Would to God,” fer-
vently, “it might all be recovered, and the
black mystery, which now darkens around my
husband, cleared up at lastl”

“ Humphl Truth is mighty and will prevail!
And, weren’t there some letters included in the
stolen property 1”

“ Yes.” And the handsome face under the
slouched hat-brim fell to blushing, not only
aggrin and deeply, but altogether unaccount-
a ly.

“ Some private letters, presumably upon deli-
cate matters, belonging to Mr. Goldkirk, presi-
dent of the bank, whose loss is supposed to have
caused him more secret anxiety than that of the
money and bonds themselves?’ -

“ It is so alleged, Moses.”

” And your husband, Claude Markham’s,
known desire to get those letters in his custad
——wasn’t that the principal fact, together wit
his evil associations, that caused this unpleasant

icion to rest upon him?"

‘ Yes, yes! Oh!” withafresh gust of passion;
" why do you bring up these miserable entangle-
ments that you seem to be well enough acquaint-
edwith already? Yes, yes- true, alltrue! And,
before we were married, Claude had been Gold-
kirk’s private secretary,as I had been his daugh-
ter’s governess. And he,” bitterly, ‘ ‘ the smooth-
tongued scoundrei—the here, who so beseeched
me to become his second wife—he,Goldkirk, the
traitor, was, or professed to be, our benefactor
and friend, as he has become ourpersecutor and
our enemy! What more, Moses, do you want,
or would you have?”

A species of suppressed fury had hurried her
along, and now that it was ever she was spent
and pale, her bosom rising and falling tumultu-
ous] , her whole frame agitated under its mascu-
line abiliments.

“ Little sister, forgive me!” said the Hermit,
brokenly. “ You see, I am naturally over-in-
quisitive as to the ways of the wicked world;
and since all flesh is grass, little sister—”

She interru ted him with a tender gesture,
and again he} forth her shapely hand.

He pressed it and she was gone, darting away
like a deer in the direction of the old house,
wherein she at once disappeared.

There had been nothing of this strange scene
and stranger colloquy lost upon the concealed
detective.

He waited impatiently till the \Vild Shoe-
maker olf Whippoorwill ad disappeared up the
mountain path, after disfiguring two or three
more prominent rocks with his Scriptural quo-
tations.

Then the tireless shadower cautiously ap-
pnroached the old house, and noiselesst ascend-

g the rickety porch, peered in at the kitchen
window.

Maud Markham was within, having resumed,
outwardly, at least, the garments proper to her

sex.

She had put a pot to boil on a small stove. in
which a fire was burning briskly, and was now
seated at an opposite window engaged in the
prosaic occupation of peeling a panful of pota-
toes. '

But her unconsciously graceful attitude seemed
to invest even this dru gar with a species of
dignity, and there was a so t, melancholy light
on the dark, thoughtful face.

Old Grip tgazed upon this woman with a new
and softene interest. ,

“ Can it be,” he muttered, “ that I, too have
been on the wron scent—that this unhappy
woman a nd her fugitive husband are more sinned
against than sinning, after all i”

. e stole away, re ained the retreat in which
he had left Cheese- t with the wa on, after an
absence of about one hour altoget er, and once
more assuming his discarded disguise, sprung
into the seat.

“ We have no time to lose,” was the only ex—
lanation he vouchsafed to his little companion.
‘ Get along, Dobbin 1”

His story upon receivin the letter from Maud
~ Markham had been stric yttrue as to the recent
employment of Cheese-it and himself, their self-
discharge thence, and their destination.

Half an hour later, just at dusk, they had
taken their seats in a down train from Chappa-
qua,after having disposed of their equipageand
its load as had been intimated in the intention.

“ Boss 1” Cheese—it presently ventured to re-
mark, perhaps as a sort of feeler for his princi-
pal’s present temper.

I

my.” “ He can't read, mum, but I kin.

 

“ Well i” rather encouragingly.

“I suppose I’ll have to go with you to deliver
that letter—as a sort of steerer, you know and
to do the translation,seein’ as how your eddyca-
tion has been neglected.”

“ Well, rather.”

“ But it was something else I was bent on ask-
ing, boss.”

“ Why don’t you ask it than?”

“ Have I your permission l”

N Yes.”

“ Well, ain't you going to glance at the con-
tentfqofghe letter betore delivering it?”

o

“ Thank you, boss!” and Cheese-it settled him-
self into his accurtomed quietude and resigna-
tion.

Old Grip, however, smiled a little grimly at
the disappointment which he knew his compan-
ion was masking under his placid exterior.

“ It isn’t necessary,” he deigned to explain at
last. “ I can guess well enough at the letter’s
purport, my lad. The thing to note will be the
man to whom it is addressed, and his manner of
receiving it."

“ I’m on to it, boss,” was the quiet response.

An hour or so later on, they were before the
Etna Steam Laundry, which seemed to be quite
an extensive establishment, in which quite as
much work was going on by night as by day.

CHAPTER V.
AT Tan STEAM LAUNDRY.

UPON asking at the main entrance for Mrs.
Griscom, the forewoman,the pseudo-country-
man and his companion were guided through a
long, low work-room in which numbers of young
women and a few Chinamen were at work
directing the ironing out of countless collars and
cuffs by steam-power.

The young women, especially, were very
sunny-minded youn persons, who did not hesi-
tate to guy the rust c-appearing visitors unmer-
cii'ull as they passed.

“ hat sort of jobs are you looking for,
prettiesi” called out one.

 

“Wren shop fzr chaw-bacons!” cried an—
other. “ on’t shampoo hayseed out of sap-
heads hereaway l”

“ Catch on to the old ’un’s whiskers i" cried a
third. “Socrates in an onion-patch, sure!”

“ Oh, he’s all right!" piped up yet another—a
very pretty work-girl with merry eyes and sar-
castic lips. “ You rather want a microscope for
the Shrimp’s base-ball mustache."

And so it went on, the pseudo-Thomas Cook
making believe to be greatly abashed. though
“ Jimmy "did not hesitate to give back as good
as was sent.

“ Silence 1” at last exclaimed, with much
sternness, an elderly woman who suddenly a. -
poured in a doorwa . “ There’ll be more solid
work and less gabb e in this work-room, or I’ll
know who’s boss, you or I l”

The gibing tongues were as if paralyzed, each
of their owners assuming at once a demure in-
tensity of interest in the work in hand that was
trul raiseworth to see.

“ .l. at’s Mrs. riscom,” rather fearsomely
whispered the little boy who had been acting as
the visitors’ guide. “And you want to mind
out,” he added, in a yet lower voice to Cheese-
it, as being somewhat of his own size. “ She’s a
holy terror on wheels, she is l”

‘ Want to see me?” called out the woman,
sharply. “ No new bands to be taken on, if
that s what you‘re looking for.”

“J ee-Hossiphat, ma’m i’ contemptuoust guf-
fawed the countryman: “ we ain’t washerwo-
men nor clothes-wringers.”

“ Not by a blamed sight!” “Jimmy ” oared in.
“ We‘re rivate messengers, we are! Tummas
you can’gread; show me the letter, and I’ll read
the top-writing right out fur the lad .”

The woman‘s demeanor at once so toned.

“ What! you have a letter for me?" she said
in a changed voice. “Come in and be seated, I
beg of you. Sammy,” to the boy guide “ set
out chairs for the gentleman and his son.’

And this was accordingly done after she had
politely bowed the visitors into the dingy little
oflice where she presided. _

The elder of the visiting pair burst into a
fresh guflaw.

“ Hui” he explained; “ I ain’t a gentleman
ma’m. I’m Thomas Cook. of Whippoorwill
Holler, an’ this here boy ain’t my son, but only
my chum.”

‘ You kin bet I ain‘t no such lunk-head’s son,
ma’ml” supplemented Cheese-it, with a loftily-
injured air. “ I’m—I‘m a Bourbon prince in
di ise, mum—that’s mei”

‘ Sammy,” who had crept into a corner to be
within call, burst into a. little laugh whereupon
the woman silenced im with a withering look.

“ You’ve a letter for me i” she queried of
“ Tummas.” -

“No, ma’m, I hain‘t,” replied the pretended
yoke], laboriously producing the letter from
among his inner vestments. ‘ An’ I never said
I had nuther. It’s for another i'ell er.”

“ I’ll read the top-writin’, mum,” cried “ J im-
Give
her to me, Tummasl”

He forthwith snatched the letter and slowly
spelled out the superscription.

 

 

“ Mr. Moresb can’t be seen at present,” said
the woman. “ ou’ll have to leave it for him.”'

“ Not by a jugqu l” promptly responded
“ Tummas,” recovering the letter and gripping,
it hard.

“ You bet!” encoura ed “ J immy." “ Hang
on to it, Tummas, an’ I’ 1 stand by you.”

The woman burst into a harsh laugh.

“ How did you come by the letter, my friends?”
she asked.

“ Tummas”related the circumstances of re-
ceiving it, after his own way, whereat she
seeme doubly interested.

“Ahi” she said; “and, in the event of Mr.
Moresby not being on hand, on were to give-
the letter to Mrs. riscom for im, eh?”

“ Yes, ma’m.”

“ Well, I am Mrs. Griscom.
the letter, if you please."

“ Tummas ’ winked knowingly, and suggest—
ively drew down one corner or his month while
Jimmy thrust both hands in his pockets, 'cked
his heels together, and assumed a highly diplo-
matic air.

“No, you don’t, ma’m!” replied the former,
wagging his head. “ We’re up to city snuff, we-
are. You don’t come that game over us.”

Mrs. Griscom laughed again,and a little more.
pleasantly.

“ What do on mean?” she asked.

“ Tummas’ winked again.

“ We was to git five dollars fur our trouble,"
he replied, in a hoarse whisper. “ F-i—v-e d-o-l-
l-a-r-s!”

“Them’s the fl gers!” reinforced “Jimmy.”
“Stick to ’sm, ummas. We won’t be J awed
down a cent’s worth if they have to bond and
mortgage the buildin’ fur to make the raise l"

Sammy here ventured upon a second mirthful
expression, which was frowned into silence as.
summarily as the first.

The woman, after a moment’s hesitation, be-
gan to fit a key into one of the drawers of a.
rude writing-table near which she was sitting.

“ Very good,” she said. “ I’ll take your word
for such being the young lady’s instructions.”

She took out acash-box and began turning-
over the numerous coins and bank-notes it con--
tained.

“Jimmy ” here gave his companion a caution-
ary kick, which was apparently harder than he
intended.

“ What are you barkin’ my shin fur, on in--
fernal little cuss! ’roared “ Tummas.” “ e keer-
ful, gr I’ll dress you down with a hickory sap-

in !

Samniy once more exploded, and this time es—-
caped re roof, as the woman now looked up,.
scarcely ess amused than he. ‘

“ He was kickin’ me on the shank, ma’m 1””
wrarhfully explained the elder rustic. “ I’ll
stom onto his stomach when I git him alone.”

“ ou’rea blamed fool, Tummas Cook 1" ex-
claimed “Jimmy,” with unmitigated dis ust;
“ a tarnation ole jackass! You can’t ta e a
hint in company.” '

“ What war you hintin’ at, you one-boss little
inseck?"

“ You two ought to try to get on more amica-
bly,” suggested the laundry orewoman, with a
smile. “Here is your five dollars, my friend;
now let me have the letter.”

But here “Jimmy” once more snatched it
out Of his companion’s hand, and put it in his
pocket.

“ Not much mum !” he chirped. “ Mebby
Mr. Mcrcsby himself ’11 give more for it than
you will.”

“ Tummas,” a parently at last getting the in-
tended “ hint” t rough his understanding, drew
a long breath and smiled ap rovingly.

“That’s the sheep-wash!” e chuckled. “ J im-
my, I furgive yer that mule-kick, an’ I mayn’t
saplm’you, arter all. Your head ’s leveler an’
rounder than I thunk. Ah, ma‘m!” regretfully;
“ what a hunky thing eddycation is— specially
when you hain t got it."

“ He can’t even read,mum ” interposed “ J im--
my,” triumphantly. “ But kin.”

‘ What is all this nonsense?” cried Mrs. Gris-
com, angrily. “ Give me the letter according
to the young lady’s instructions. Here is your
promised fee, exortitant as it is.” Q

But “Tummas” had now become as implaca-
ble as the more sophisticated “Jimmy ” himself.

Not much; it must be into Mr. Henry Mai-ear
by’s hands alone, and none other’s, that the
precious letter should be placed. That was the.
ultimatum, and nothing the woman could say
or ur e sufficed to move the deep and knowing
ones rom their iron determination.

“ See if you can find Moresby disengaged,"
the woman at last said, turning to the boy
Sammy, with a peculiar look. that was lost up—
on neither of her visitors. “We shall have to
satisfy these extraordinary persons SOIDEhOW.”

The boy vanished, and resently returned,
accompanied by an indivi ual, whose appear-
ance considerably disappointed expectations.

“Here, Moresby," said Mrs. Gmscom, with
some words of explanation. “ These persons
have a letter for on from Chappaqua—ways,
but you must ay or it. I sha’n’tl”

The man ad ressed wasarou’gh—looking young
working-man, begrimed and Oily from head to
foot, and apparently fresh from an engine-room.

So let me have

i i

i

Old Grip’s Stillillunt.

5

 

 

 

—the last sort of Mr. Moresby in the world that
either the detective or his companion had ex—
pected to see.

He turned to them inquiringly.

“ You’ve a letter for me?’ e said, gruflly.
“ Let me have it !”

 

CHAPTER VI.
A QUEER soar or LAUNDRY.

“ HE’S got the dookyment,” replied the pre-
tended countryman, pomting to his little com-
anion. “ You’re to a ply fu'st to him, Mr.
oresby; fur, though ‘m the messenger, he’s
got the eddycation. But, good Lord! how you
do smell of engine-slush an’ harness-grease! It’s
wuss nor a. skunk under a hen-house l”

The young man gave him a savage look, and
'.then turned impatiently to Cheese-it.”

“ Let’s have it!” he demanded.

The boy jammed his hands yet dee er into his
pockets, and shook his head vigorous y, while be-
stowing upon the occu ant an owlish Wink.

“ Ten dollars, or not in’l” he chirped; “not a
- scrap nor syllable—not hair nor hide of it fur a
cent less!”

“That’s the talk, Jimmy!” roared Tummas,
beamin 1y. “We know a good thing when we
see it, if we are but hayseeds, we do l"

Young Moresby seemed puzzled, and turned
to Mrs. Griscom, inquirineg while Sammy
seemed to be fairly, going into flts in his special

ucorner.

“ They’re an odd pair," replied the forewo-
man, smiling. “ They ev1dently think that it’s
less of a bit of writing than a gold-mine they’ve

,got in custody."

And she explained the matter further.

“ They must be blasted fools, even for hay-
.seedsi" said the young man. angrily. “ Five
dollars for delivering a letter!”

“ Ten, or nothin’l" reiterated Cheese-it, stout
ly;—“ not a glimpse, not a syllable, not a
smell l”

“ Haw! haw! the deuce you say 3”

And the unsavory young man forthWith
grabbed the little fellow, turned him up,and be-
gun to go for his pockets.

But at this juncture the elder was on his feet
' with a demonstrative stamp and flourish.

“ Hands off i" he bawled, jamming his hat
down over his forehead. “ No wiolence to my
side- artner—he’s a l'arnt boy an‘ a scollard he

I is] ands oi! or I’m on to you like a bobtailed
bull inter a cabbage-patch 1"

And with that be seized the belligerent like a
whirlwind, his coat-tails flying, his legs waving

.about like the sails of a windmill.

In spite of Mrs. Griscom‘s expostulations and
sundry fresh explosions on the part of Sammy,
for several seconds there was a sort of concen-
trated riot, for the engine-room dele ate. thou h
overmatched, was no essdetermin and be -

case than his opponents.

But the disguised detective purposely steered
the struggle in the direction of a certain mys-
terious-looking door opposite the one communi-

vcating with the work-room, and which had
somehow excited his curiosity from the outset.

Through it the strugglin and scramblin trio
crashed at last, the preten ed Tummas fair you

top of the laundry representative, Jimmy exe-
cuting a horn ipe of sated triumph and Mrs.
'Griscom and ammy in a state of high excite-
ment on the threshold.

The interior thus rudely disclosed was in odd
keeping with its dingy and business-like connec-
tions, to say the least.

A narrow but sumptuously-furnished ball and
stairwa , having, so far as could be seen at the
hasty g ance necessitated by the circumstances
of the intrusion, no visible communication with
'the adjoining street; and yet suggesting a con-
nection with yet more luxuriously—appointed
rooms above.

All this was taken in by the disguised pair at
:a single comprehensive limpse, and without
apparent cessation in the iiiiculty under way.

“ There you be, consarn your greasy pictur’l"
exclaimed the victor. glowerin upon his pros-
‘trate foe while keeping him pinned to the car-

pet. “ hat dy’ye think of a hayseed fur a
fu’st-class cyclone now i”

‘t‘hLet me up!” growled the fallen man, with an
oa .

“ Easy. there, easy. Mr. Harness-Grease! I’ll
see about that! And, meantime, let me counsel
yer as a Dutch uncle not to be perfane.”

“ Ten, or nothin’i” chirped Cheese-it, enthusi-
astically. “Them‘s the flggers, pap; an’ we'll

. stick to 'emi”
j, “ Dunno ’bout that,” demurred the detective.
 ‘ “ Preehaps we’d better fetch the perlice into
this cowyard arter all, an’ tell ’em the hull
story—ha’nted house, mysterious a], way she
_ uv us the letter, and all! Oh, if was on], a
earnt teller like you, J imm l” ‘ '

An alarmed exclamation mm the forewoman
caused him to look up.

She was very pale, and the girls and the Chi-
namen from the work-room were beginning to
crowd into the oflice with wondering aces.

“ Here 1" she exclaimed. thrusting out some
money with a trembling hand. “ Here is a ten-

«dollar-note. For God’s sake, give up the letter,
and take yourselves of! l”

 

A chan 9 had also come over the young en—
gineer w 0, on being permitted, silently and

oggedly got upon his feet without further
demonstration.

“Thank ’ee, ma’ml” and the pretended coun-
tryman accepted the proffered fee with an ele-
gi'iantine scrape of the foot. “ The honor of old

estchester county is satisfied ma’m. Jimmy,
surrender the dockyment. College- bred ez you
be, you also orter feel satisfied.”

” Jimmy " obeyed, with a victorious side-grin
for Sammy’s special delectation.

The young man snatched the letter, glanced
at the superscription, thrust it into his trowsers-
pocket, and incontinently disappeared.

“ Wait a minute, on two,” said the forewo-
man, as they were a ut to follow his example.
“ 1 want a parting word with ou.’

They were once more in the ittle ofllce. which
she had forthwith cleared of intruders, Sammy
included, after refastening the bursted door.

“You are perhaps looking for employment
here in the city i” she ueried.

“ Yes, ma’m,” chee yreplied “ Tummas ” for
the pair, with a business-like shuffle of his big
shoes. ‘ An’ mebbe we ain’t so green as we
look, ma’m, fur all that our eddycation is sum—
mat one-sided. Eh, Jimm ’9"

“That‘s the talk papl” r nded the preco-
cious youth, helping himsel to an enormous
chew of tobacco. ‘ You see ma’m, Tummas
fian’t' read—don’t even know his letters—but I

in.

“Would you like to try your hand at our
laundry business?"

“ 0h, anything, ma‘ml" continued ‘ Tummas,’
genially. ' Lig t work an’ big We es——that’s
the on] thin we’re rtick’lar abou .”

“ In eedl ell, i you come here to-morrow
or next day, I shall see what can be done about
setting you to work, both of you.”

Both man and boy expressed them es high-
ly pleased ‘at the prospect.

‘ In the mean time,” continued the woman,
hesitatingly, “I shall expect the most perfect
reticence as to anything that may have struck
you as queer, or out of the common run, here-
abouts;—as to that passage and stairway in
yonder, together with everything connected
with your obtaining and bringing that letter.
You understandi”

Yes; they expressed themselves seemingly to
her satisfaction, and the boy Samm was again
summoned to show them out of the iuilding by
the way the had entered it.

The boy ollowed them out into the street
firefully closing the large entrance-door behind

in.
“Sa ?"he whispered, mysterious] .
ti “ W at is it, sonny?" demand the detec-

ve.

“ Yes, speak out, Sammy, even if you ain’t
learnt,” said Cheese-it, benignantly. ‘ I’ll pur-
tect you.”

So. my grinned from ear to ear.

" ou knowthatfeller you ave theletter toi”
he said, uickly recovering s gravity.

“The arness-greaser what I shook the saw-
dust out of 7’: repl ed “ Tummas,” blandly. “ Sar-
t’in, my son. sart’inl"

“ Well. your letter was for Mr. Henry Morese
by, wasn’t iti",

“ Sure pop!”

“ Well, he wasn’t Mr. Henry Moresby at all!”

“ No? Look here. this begins to look serious.
Cheatin’ an’ robbin’ the mail is a tough crimina-
tion. Sammy!”

“ You ain’t a mail, though.”

“Wal, of any cuss calls me a she-male, he’d
better look out fur white squalls in seed-time,
that’s all. If he wasn’t Moresby, who w 5 he?”

“ He was Moresby, but he wasn’t Mr. Henry
Moresby.”

“ Oho! big fambly mebbe, ch 7”

“ He’s Dick Moresby, supposed to be a
ypunger brother, what runs our laundry en-

ne

“ And who is Mr. Henry Moresby i"

“ Nobody knows."

it Hey?"

“ True as you live. Letters come for him, an’
all that sort of thing, but nobody about the
chebang ever saw him yet, unless it might have
been 01 gal Griscom. Don’t give me away in
this, you tellers!” ‘

And, with that, Sammy darted back into the
work-room.

“ Bossi” said Cheese-it, as the pair hurried off
tfior the quarter in which Old Grip made his resi-

ence.

“ Well, my boy’i"

“ Doesn’t it strike you that there’s scmething
all-fired queer about that stem laundry, as
steam-laundries generally go’l”

“ Humph l” was the non-committal reply.
“ There are several queer things to turn over in

' "our minds in bed to—night, Cheese-it."

._

CHAPTER VII.
ran BANK PRESIDENT.

OLD GRIP occupied a very omfortable flat,
in an agreeable part of the ty, with Luella,
his beautiful and amiable spouse, and Cheese-it
final by this time long been one of their house-

0 .

 

On the morning following the veteran detec-
tive‘s varying adventures, as related in the
foregoing chapters, Luella, to whom he had
made everything known on the previous night,
said to him as he was finishing his toilet:

“ So you are no longer so confident as for-
merly, my dear, as to the participation of
Claude Markham in the great Occidental Na-
tional Bank robbery ?”

“I was never wholly confident of it, you
must remember, Luella,” was the reply “save
as feeling sure that his arrest might lead to
clearing up the mystery in one way or an-
other.”

“ Ahl but the conduct of Maud Markham in
that Westchester mountain nook was scarcely
suchas you might expect of a criminal’s wife
conscious of her husband's guilt?”

“ Quite the contrary."

“ What inferences do you draw from your
observations thereabouts "

“ That the youn man has been more or less
entan led in the a air.”

“ hy shouldn’t he give himself up, if morally
innocent?”

“ I repeated to on the wife‘s explanation to
her lunatic of a rother, the Wild Shoemaker
of Whippoorwill, on that oint."

“ Ah! Claude s knowl go of the bank presi-
dent's remorseless personal animosity i"

H Yes.”

“ But what is your own im ressioni”

“ That there may be somet ing in hers."

“Non-committa as usual, even with me!”
with her pleasant laugh. “ Of course you
wouldn't value my im ressions on the subject l"

“ Y’pu must know ust to the contrary, my

ear.

“ Shall I state them?”

“ And welcome 3"

“ Well, my first impression is, that Maud
Mark ham is a truly devoted wife and very
much of a heroine."

“ Agreed, to the letterl’

“ Next, that Claude Markham may know
something about this robbery, but is absolutely
innooent of participation therein."

“ That remains to be raved.”

“ Next that the real criminal is this mysteri-
ous Mr. henr Moresby, who is, in some way,
using the Mar hams’ confidence in his probity
as a mask for his own security.”

“ Agreed, at least in part.”

“ Next, that this Mrs. Griscom is the fellow's
confederate, and her entire steam lsundr busi—
ness little more nor less than a blind for is se-

curity while engaged in criminal practices, per~ '

haps upon a gigantic scale.”

“ That isn’t so bad."

“ Next, that the concealed sumptuousness
which you had a glimpse of in connection with
the laundry likewise suggests this mysterious
Mr. Henry Moresb as a man of pronounced
luxurious tastes an inclinations. ”

“ Why, you're doing real well i”

“ Next, that he may eventually prove identi-
cal with some notorious crimina 0 worldwide
range and phenomenal cleverness, whose pres-
ence in this country is not even so much as sus-

ected.”

“ Better and better I"

“ Next, that the secret of Mr. Bank President
Goldkirk’s animosity against the Markham:
is in some way connected with those missing
private letters whose recovery he seems even
more anxious about than wl h regard to the
stolen bank property itself.”

“ Good for you!”

“Moreover, that those letters might be made
to prove, un leasantly and unfortunately for
him, Mr. Gol kirk’s continuous and calflsh woo-
ing of Maud Crust (since then Mrs. Maud
Markham) when she was his daughter’s overn-
ess. Amillionaire’s persistent suit,whic would
not take no for an answer, but as persistenth
declined by a young person who was perhaps
little more than an upper domestic in his house-
hold! Why, it is sai to have made him ridicu-
lous in his circle 1”

“Men don’t like to be made ridiculous; it is
the unforgivable offense with some.”

“But, he had only his own infatuation to

me.

“Still, Goldkirk is a steadfast churchmen, a
Sunday—school superintendent and all that.”

Luella’s blue eyes flashed.

' “ And,” she went on, indignantly, “ a convivi-
alist on the sly, together with his companion
Bacchanalians of that Daffodil Coterie of his,
as was ventilated in that Western newspaper’s
New York correspondence that made such a
sensation not long ago!”

“ A brief one, summarily squelched, and for
which the newspaper was mulcted in heavy
damages in the civu suit that followed 1”

“Still, it showed up the man as a hypocrite
and I don’t wonder that the governess refused
to become his second wife, for all his mono .”

“ I do. However, any more impressions, my
dear?”

“Oh, any number! Next for instance, that
the very fact of Claude Mar ham having made
no attempt to use those letters against his
avowed enemy, Goldkirk. is roof positive of
their not bein in his pose on, ergo, that he
could not have con concerned in the bank rob—

/

6

Old Grip’sristillirljlunt.

 

 

 

bery, which undoubtedly included the missing
correspondence in its cash and bonds sweep !"

Old Grip, who had by this time, finished his
toilet, burst into a laugh and kissed his wife, al-
wa s an affectionate way of his.

‘ What an analyzer you are!" he exclaimed.
“The Murders in the Rue Mor ue would have
been a mere bagatelle in your ands, my dear
Luella, while the Mary Rogers Mystery itself
could have scarcely maintained itfilf for a day
with you at the detective helm. ut, no more
impressions at present, not till after breakfast,
at all events, for I am just ravenous. Come
alon l"

“ ait, sir! Not a step, even if you starve,
before you tell me of your next move in this
affair!” -

“ Good! My personal report to Mr. Bank
President Goldkirk.”

‘ ‘ Right after breakfast?”

“Yes; before he shall have quitted his resi-
dence for down-town.”

“ That will do. N ow you may have something
to eat. "

Cheese—it, who occupied a snug little hall room
in the Crimmins domestic economy, put in a
smiling appearance for breakfast, and with an
appetite by no means second to his illustrious
principal’s on this occasion.

“ Oh, Lordy, boss!" he exclaimed, passing up
his plate a third time for toasted muffin and
sausage; “ but doesn’t it takea milk-farm ex-
perience in Westchester county to make one
appreciate city home comforts? Thankee
ma’m; just one more on of coffee, since you’d
feel hurt if I didn’t beg or it; and not quite so
sweet if you please.”

Both the detective and Luellalaughed, but the
Westchester milk-farm experience had already
been exhausted as a subject for mirthful re-
miniscence, and Old Grip was soon in readiness
for his visit to the banker.

“ Cheese-it ” said he, “ ou had better look in
on Mistress Florewoman riscom for what you
can pick up in the course of the morning, which
will necessitate the resumption of your rustic
character. See if you can’t have something
fresh for me against my return at lunch time,
orll{ater onil" 1 M b h d

issing is wi 9 go - ,t e great etective
hurried away. y

Mr. Clifford Goldkirk, long since a widower,
and a gentleman of fair social standing and a
most substantial worldly basis, had his palatial
residence in the ultra—fashionable neighborth
of Fifth avenue and Central Paak.

When the detective sent in his card,the bank-
er was still at breakfast with his only child,
Blanche, a. pretty and sentimental girl‘of nine-
teen, fair and petite, the sole mistress of the
establishment, with its glittering appointments
and large retinue of servants- though there was
a nominal housekeeper in rs. eckwith, a
stately nonentity or flgurehead of uncertain
age who was more or less omnipresent as a sort
0 aha area for the spoiledjdaughter of luxury
notwit standin that the latter was possessed o
a decided will 0 her own which she was seldom
backward in exercising.

“Mr. Crimmins, eh?” commented Mr. Gold-
kirk, with a slight frown, the detective’s card
in his hand, his coffee at his elbow. “ Our wor—
thy detective, Old Gri , eh? Hum h l"'

‘Oh, papal” cried iss Goldkir impulsive-
ly, “have him in here at once. l’erhaps he
would like a lass of Sauterne or something
stron er. I do 9 on detectives!”

A etective in a millionaire’s breakfast-room!
Good Mrs. Beckwith, from her position behind
the coffee-urn, rolled up her eyes in speechless
horror at the ver idea.

But Pa Gol kirk, who was accustomed to
indulge B che unquestioningly in everything,
made a sign to the servant, and the detective
was forth with admitted.

The latter, altogether undazzled by the splen-
dor of his surroundin s, calmly seated himself,
after a polite reco t on of the feminine ipres-
ences, and a. yet p0 iter refusal of the pro cred
refreshment. ,

“I am ready with my report, sir.” said he
when you are ready to receive it. Or would
you, prefer to see me down at the bank later

on
“ Notuat the bank I” hastily replied Mr. Gold-
grik. I'ghall be at, your disposal presently,

 

CHAPTER VIII.
A MAN or run: WORLD.

Miss Got.an had met the dark-eyed detec-
tive several times before and had already come
to the conclusion, somewhere in her rather shal-
low but sentimental nature, that he was very
“ nice,” indeed, and might be worth cultivating
under different social considerations.

She therefore honored him with more than
one interested lance from her dreamy, China-
blue eyes, while her father was finishing his
coffee, and presently said:

“ Your vocation must be just enchanting Mr.
Crimmins! Oh, if I were but a man, how -
ly I would love to be a detective !"

“You might not like it so well as you imagine,
Miss Goldkirk," Crimmins replied, with his

agreeable smile.

 

“ Oh, I know I should! I’m romantic to the
core, on should know. ”

“ aven’t a. doubt of it, I am sure, miss.
But then, all is not romance in a detective’s
life.”

“No? Oh, I am sure you underestimate it.
Now, how could you have earned your surname
of Old Grip, I wonder?”

“ A long story, Miss Goldkirk.”

“ Of course. it must be. Won’t you tell it to
me some time? Old Grip! how romantic! how
individual! l’ve no doubt I should hang en-
tranced upon the tale, as did Desdemona on her
Othello’s, with its hair—breadth ’scapes, and all
that sort of thing. Sha’n’t Mr. Crimmins tell it
to me some time, papa?” With as much confi-
dence as if asking for a ticket to the opera or a
new piece bijoiiterie.

“ Nonsense !” exclaimed the banker, laughing
finishing his cup and lighting a cigar. ‘ As if
Mr. Crimmins had time or inclination for a
fashionable young lady’s amusement! Besides,
what would the count say to your enacting
Desdeinona to ld Grip’s Moor of Venice? Have
you thought 0 that, little one?“

“ Pesto l” with a pout ; “ as if I should think of
it, at all! Besides,” with a smile, “ Count Mont.
albert is even more docile than the rest of them,
I assure you, papa. And a pretty good thing
for him it is so, or he would get his dismissal in
short order. ”

Mr. Goldkirk shrugged his shoulders, as if not
wholly pleased with the turn he had given the
conversation, and then he‘summarily arose.

“ Have a. cigar, Crimmins,”he said. “ Then
we will adjourn to the library.”

Once in the library with the detective the
banker’s free-and-easy air instantly gave way
to an eager, earnest and energetic manner.

He was a somewhat corpulent, decidedly
handsome man .of sixty or thereabouts, faultless-
ly attired, but with a certain something about
him that was not favorable to trustfulness, but
rather the reverse.

“ Now, Crimmins!" and he threw himself into
an eas ~chair, with his legs crossed, his brows
knitto , and his whole demeanor expressive of
suppressed eagerness. “ Let me see, you have
been gone nearly a week?"

“ Just about,sir.”

“Spying around Westchester county all that
time, as you had intended?”

“ Yes. ‘

“ Well, what have you to report? Surely you
must have run that rascally ingrate to earth by
this time!”

“You refer to Mr. Claude Markham, I sup-

se sir?”

“ f course !” with a surprised look. “ Who
else, in the name of goodness?”

“ Ah! Well, Mr. Goldkirk, I hardly know
whether my report will be satisfactory to you or
not. ‘

“ And why don’t you know, ray 3”

“I have found out the man s hiding—place,”
was the blunt reply. “And I no longer think
it ossible that he s guilty.”

. Goldkirk, who seemed somewhat startled
at first, repressed an angry rejoinder with diffi-

cult .

“ I thought,” he said, after a ause. “ I had
thoroughly convinced you of Mar am’s guilt—
of his motives for committin the robbery."

“11%;, you only made me hink him possibly
gui t .

“ ell Well! I shall attend to that when the
scoundre ’s arrest is secured. His hiding-
place!”

“ Mr. Claude Markham’s, on mean?”

“Of course I do,” angri y. “Curse it all
man! why do you venture to discriminate an
split hairs thus with me?”

The detective, whose personal liking for the
bugger was by no means excessive, eyed him
co y.

“ It is m habit to sift and discriminate, sir,”
he said. ‘ And why not with you as much as
with any one else i”

Mr. Goldkirk flushed.

“ Because—because ” he hesitated, with a look
of hauteur, “of the difference in our social po-
sitions, sir.”

“ That for your social lposition, air!” was the
contemptuous re ly, wit a snap of the finger
and thumb. “ apor, if you must,u on some-
thing that has a real existence. Good-dis !”

But, as he rose to “E0, Mr. Goldkirk, ough
still flushin resentf yeven to the top of his

rtiallyb d head, sprung up and laid a de-

ining hand on his am.

“Oh, pshaw!" he exclaimed with a. forced
laugh: ‘ sit down, Crimmins. 'Why should we
wrangle like children 3”

But, Old Grip, for reasons of his own, resolved
to have the matter out then and there.

"Hark you. Mr. Bank President Goldkir ”
said he, calmly; “have on ever remarked me
to be particularly dazzle or overcome by your
sumptuousness hereabouts and elsewhere-the
appurtenances of the social position you seem
disposed to vaunt, and which an other man’s
money can buy, for that matter, 1 he only have
enough of it to waste upon similar vanities?”

“No, no: of course not,” depreeatingly.
“ Nor have I meant that you shoal be dazzled
or overcome.”

 

“ Then don’t attempt the ‘ social diflerence ’
d o with me again, if you please!”

“ h, pshaw!”

“ It might lead, ypu see, to certain retorts and
reflections on my part as to character-differ-
encgs that would not be wholly agreeableto you,
sir.

“ Come, come; this is nonsense!”

“ By no means; merely the pitting of genuine
honesty of character against whatever hypocrisy
may underlie a sleek, well-fed exterior of world—
ly prosperity. ”

H  Pl

“ You, sir, have character-blemishes you may
well wish to conceal. I have none.”

A furious look leaped into the banker’s face
indicative of natural violences seldom permitted
to express themselves; and then, by a powerful
effort, he was his smooth, bland, worldly self
again—the Mr. Hyde again lost in the Dr.
Jekyll, as one might say.

“ 0h, pshaw I” with his careless bonhomi'e
laugh; “We sha’n’t quarrel—at least I sha’nlt
if you will. Do sit down, my friend, and let v
this foolish passage between us be forgotten.”

“ Why not?” with a smile upon his own part,

and the detective, having accomplished what he
wanted in that particular line, resumed his
seat.
“ Claude Markham,” he continued, as if no
asperity had intervened, “ has buried himself in
a picturesque retreat of some sort somewhere in
the rook-wilderness of Westchester county be-
tween the villages of Chappaqua, Pleasantville
and Armonk."

“ Humph! this is businesslike. Then you
don’t exactly know where his hiding- lace is?”

“ I could probably lay my han upon the
gentleman on short notice,” was the evasive re-

p X He, he, he! Gentleman is good!”

“ Ver good, and not inappropriate.”

“Wel , well; then ou have not seen or had
communication with im ?”

“ Only with his wife, thus far.”

“ Ha !” with a assing frown, quickly succeed-
ed by a resentfu glint of the eye not agreeable
to behold. “ Then you have communicated with
a very handsome woman, my friend—a very-
handsome woman!”

“ A devoted wife and refined lady, sir, to the
best of my judgment.”

“ Ah ?” with a dismissive gesture. “ Well,
well; of course on didn’t communicate with
the girl in your etective’s character?”

“ In disguise.”

“ Of course, of course! Well, you have lo-
cated the fugitive!”

H Yes.”

“ Better procure a warrant, then, and arrest
him forthwith."

“ But why arrest him at all, if there is no
progf of his guilt?”

“ nook here, Crimmins I’ll attend to the
proofs later on. What I first want is to have
she ,man jugged—imprisoned, and in short or-

er.

“ Then ou’ll have to st some one else to ar-
rest him; sha’n‘t—not t ll I’m better assured
of his uilt than now, at all events."

The anker looked at him narrowly.

“ I was under the impression,” he said, sloww
ly, “ that I had engaged your services, sir, and,
prett much at your own valuation.”

“ orrect.”

“ Then what difference can it make to you i”

“ Every difference in the world. I refuse
point-blank to hound a man down without rea-
sonable suspicion as to his criminalit .”

“ You are, professionally, a detec vei”

“And, rivately, a man of honor. ”

“ 80! Book here; I want that man arrested?
forthwith and thrown into prison. Will you.
perform the job?”

“ I will not I”

CHAPTER IX.
DETECTIVE AND BANKER.

Tim banker gave a forced laugh. .

“ You are sufficiently blunt, Mr. Crimmins?”
he observed, with a sneer.

“ I would that you ware equally blunt, Mr,
Goldkirk,” was the composed reply. ,

“ 0h, pshaw! I am more no is an you think.
But, above all, I am a man of the world, and
you are a man of the world. Let in confer to--
gether on that basis."

is Agreed.”

“ Now look here, then, Crimmins; I might re- .
tort that it is simply your business to follow my
instructions unquestioningly.”

“ Humph!” .

“ Why don’t you believe Claude Markham.

ilty of our bank’s robbery, Crimmins?”

“ Well, that robbery included a private cor-
respondence of yours, I have been given to un-
derstandi”

“ Y-eesi”

“ Letters which you are very anxious to re--
cover?" ,

“ Well, rather I”

“ There you are, then. It is simply impos—-
sible that those letters, together with the stolen.
funds, can be in Mr. Claude Markham’s poo—.-
session.”

“ Why impossible!”

I.

\

Old eggs sun Hunt.

 

“ Because,”slowly, “ otherwise he would have
long before this brought on to our marrow-

bones by merely procla’ ng the act of possess-
ing‘them.”
he banker started as if he had received a

blow in the face, and yet he managed to retain
his self-control.

“ Heavens, man!” he exclaimed, hoarsely;
“ what can you mean!”

“ You best know the contents of those miss—
ing letters, Mr. Goldkirk.”

“ 0f courseI do; and you best don‘t know,
for that matter.”

“ True; but it is permissible to conjecture."

The banker rose, and, thrustin his hands in
his pockets, agitatedly paced the floor, While
now and then covertly regarding his companion
with curious looks.

“A little wine wouldn’t be out of the way,”
he muttered, at last, and touched a bell.

“None for me if you please,” interposed the
detective, blandly.
forenoon yet.”

But Mr. Goldkirk had already resumed his

_ seat, with his demeanor outwardly restored.

He nodded smilingly.

“ Bring some Toka and the brandy,” he
said, when a gorgeous y-liveried footmun had
put in an obsequious appearance. “ Fresh ci-
gars, too, by the way.” _

” Now, look you, Crimmins,” continued the
banker, when the servant had disappeared,
"may it not be that you lay a little too much
stress on those missing letters l”

He leaned back, his thumbs in the arm-holes
gt his waistcoat, a bland smile upon his chubby

ace.

“ Do I lay more stress on them than you do?"

“ Well, now, that depends. But stay ; you
think that Markham could not have been the
thief?”

“ That is my impression.”

“ Who else ut he would have had any motive
in taking them at all? For the ordinary burglar
the letters would scarcely have been considered
alon with the ‘ swag,’ you must acknowledge.”

“ rue ; but there are some very extraordinary
bur lars nowadays.”

um h l”

The bank president knitted his brows but
when the wine and cigars had been brought in
and the pair were once more alone, his face
cleared again.

“Now, my dear Crimmins,” he continued,
with renewed genialirty smacking his lips over
a mixed glass of the okay and brandy, which
the detective had persisted in declining, “ you
owe me a little ex lanation. Come, now,”
laughing pleasantly, ‘ acknowledge that you do,
old fellow !” ‘

“ If I owe it, I ought to pay it, Mr. Goldkirk,”
was the smiling rejoinder, ‘ Pray explain the
explanation that is due, if you please.”

‘ Prett good! retty good! I’ll be outspok-
en, my riend. hat do you conjecture or
imagine of the contents of those stolen letters of
mine that could place the in the power of any
man having them in his surreptitious possession?
Come, now!” ‘

“ I'll only answer that question on your insist-
ence sir.”

“ Well, I do insist.”

“ Well, In general inference with regard to
the letters s asedu on a discontent with the
state of widowerhoo , and your reputation for
—er~—gallantry, as one might say."

Goldkirk flushed.

“ Humph l” he ejaculated. “ I suppose you re-
fer to that newspaper caluniny, for which I
made that Western editor sweat out the last ten
years’ earnings of his libelous sheet l”

“ I do refer to that, sir.”

“Good heavens!” exclaimed the banker, ap-

ntl with genuine earnestness' “it is too

ad, 0 ins. Look you! what if I am dis-

posed to relaxation in a genial way, now and

hen? Was that any reason why that scoundrel-

ly correspondent should have dra god my other
private affairs into public discussion?” /

“ By no means, provided they were honor-
able.’ '

“ They were honorable, Crimmins. I swear
it! Fool I mazhave made of in self in m long
and hopeless go of Miss Crust 5 heart— don’t
deny that I was—but my motives were of the
purest. The 1's beauty and sweetness of
character sunp y haunted me be and reason. I
would so gladly, so gratefully ve made her
my wife, with all the advanta es of in wealth
and position at her feet! An then to scorn-
ed, persistently, contem tuously, and all for my

rivate secretary—a fe ow without a hundred

ollars in the world i" Q

The detective could not help being amused.

“ Youth and good looks go a long way with
game young women—further than even money,”

e an

tomy cost! But look here! Thisisthecase: I
made long and honorable—over-persistent, per-
haps but none the less honorable—court to my
daughter’s governess, who simply, in addition
torefusin my suit. married my secretary. Was
there anyt in particularly unmanly in this!”

“None who ver."

“And was it fair in that newspaper chap to

I

“It isn’t the middle of the -’

“ Igsfiould say sol As if I hadn’t found it out"

7.

 

I

air the thin in print, in addition to my Daffo-
, dil Coterie ollies, for which I did not so much
-' care?”

“ No ; it was indefensible.”

“What was there, then, in my conduct to-
1 Ward the young lady that could have tem ted

the rascally quill-driver to such infernal liber-

l, ties with my inner life?”
i “ Its element of the ridiculous.”
‘ The banker gnashed his teeth.
‘ “That is it!” he exclaimed. “By Jupiter!
. Sooner than be ridiculous, Crimmins, I would
I welcome death—I’d ahnost as lief be poor.”
I “ But, the young ladydill not make you ridic-
! ulous."

“ Her beauty—my love for her—did I”

“ Bless me! you would punish her and the
man of her heart for your own misfortune!”

Mr. Goldkirk covered his face with his hands,
and when he removed them he was outwardly
calm.

“ Look here,” he said, “I want those letters,
and I am satisfied they are in the possession of
l the Markhams.”

“Suppose they are; what is there in those
letters that you need fear so much, Mr. Gold-
kirk?"

“ Well,” irritablv, “they make me out to have
been even more ridiculous than that newspaper
ghoul did.”

“ Is that all P" significantly.

The banker started. , .

“Good Lord!” be said, collecting himself
afresh; “ isn’t that enough?”

“ No. You are not insane; and no sane man
would keep up such a cruel, remorseless persecu—
tion of an unoflending couple, as you are doing
. merely to recover a pack of ill-advised but
1 harmless protestations of a hopeless attachment

as embodied in mere love—letters.”

I Mr. Goldkirk found himself in a dilemma,
from which he sought to extricate himself by
' flyin into yet another passion.
r‘i‘ d on are evidently bent on insulting me!” he
c e .

“ I deny it l” was the cool reply. “Nothing
has been said b me that was not directly
evoked by yourse ."

“ Shall you arrest Claude Markham on the
charge of robbing the Occidental National
Bank, in accordance with my repeatedly ex-
pressed instructions, or shall you not?"

“ Decidedly not 1”

“Go! Your services are no longer re uired
in the Occidental Bank robbery case. dis-
pense with them forthwith.”

“ Perhaps you would, if you could,” and the
detective calmly arose. -

.“pfknd why can I not dispense with them,
sir

“ Oh ” with a shrug, “ don’t worry, I be of
you. ’ our board of directors and fa] ow—
stockholders will doubtless decide that! It
will be seen whether they are most interested in
the arrest of the real criminal and the recovery
of their property, or in subordinating all that
to the gratification of a private spite on the
part of their resident. Good-morning, sir!”

“Wait!” oldkirk was after him almost
with a bound. “We mustn't part this way
Criiflmiln’s. Forget the hasty words that passed
in s

Y 0 just as you please!”

I
l
l
i
l
|

retract those words indubitably. You will re-
gard them as unspoken i”

“ Yes, if you r at them.”

“Thank you, rimmins, thank oul
pose you confer with me again, an soon—say

his evening, or tomorrow evening at nine, just
as you choose.” ’
.‘ Very well, Mr. Goldkirk."

“ But not at the bank-; nor even here again,”
hastily. “Let me see,’ He smiled ingrstlat-
ingly, and lowered his voice. “Perhaps you
have guessed that there are furnished rooms at
the top of our bank building? Ah, to be sure.
Well, I have a rivate den there—a retreat
from the care-in ested world, you understand.
So, almost any evening between nine and
twelve. The anitor‘s be l—a word in his ear

Sup-

will do. morning and God have you in
His keeping, my frien I”
As the etective was quitting the library,

there was bein admitted at the street entrance
a tall, distin uished-lookin individual.

Mr. Gold rk appears somewhat taken
aback, but at once pressed forward to address
the new-comer as ‘my dear count,” while, at
the same moment, as the gorgeous officiating
flunky stepped obsequiously back, a drawing-
room door 0 ened, with sentimental and ro-
mantic Miss oldkirk smiling a. careless rest-
in as the " count” made haste to press his lips
to er extended hand with an old-time court ‘-
ness.

“An adventurer of the pla ed-out,conven-
tional species!” was the detec ve’s silent com-
ment, as he made his escape from the house
unobserved. “Where and when have 1 met
him before? But the question is, Is the scoun-
drslly banker’s shallow dau hter worth saving
from the fellows toils? T at remains to be
seen. Hallo! Moreshy, Moresbyl Wh should
that name occur to me so suddenlyin t is con-
nection?”

 

‘ Moresby,” was the prompt response.

‘
“ But you are in earnest? Understand that I .

 

CHAPTER X.
CHEESE-H’s REPORT.

LUELLA was duly acquainted at lunch-time
with the result of her husband’s interview with
the banker, so far as it could be said to have had
any definite result.

“ It is just as I surmised with regard to that
man’s weak and despicable character,” she said.
“ What is your main course now in the matter,
Edward?”

“ To locate and identify this mysterious chap,

“And I
strongly suspect that, in addition to being the
bank-robber, he is identical with this adventurer
Montalbert l"

“ And, as a side issue then you will devote
Iyourself to rescuing foolish Miss Blanche from

is fortune-hunting designs?”

“ I suppose so, if the girl is worth the ef-
fort.”

“ I am surprised at you, Edward Crimminsl
As if any endangered girl, however foolish or
selfish, were not worth a saving effort! You
suppose so, indeed l”

" Don‘t be too hard on me, my dear. Can’t

ou understand that the brin ing of the chap to
hook for the robbery—suppos mg the truth of my
hypothesis in the premises—would of necessity
upset his fortune-hunting plans with regard to
the young thirfi who would so like to be a Des-
demona to m oor of Venice!”

“Ah! but 0 might succeed with her before
such a revelation could be made I”

“ We must take our chances as to that. But,
leave it to me. I am not customarily indiffer-
ent to Innocence in the tiger’s grip, as you must
know.”

“Of course, and who better than I?" with a
gentle look. “ Then, as another and chiefer
side-issue—”

“This disentanglement of the Markhams, as
a matter of course."

“ Yes, yes; that is it. And, maybe, I might
hel‘pvyou out there?” ‘

‘ by not? We shall see.”

“ I have a notion,” continued Mrs. Crimmins,
thoughtfully, “ that, from what I have heard
of her), I should like to know and love that wo~
man.

Here Cheese-it made his appearance, both
hopeful and hungry.

“What have on ot to report?” demanded
Gri , when the ittle ellow had seated himself
andp made some progress with his repast.

“ Boss, everything is just hunky I” was the
characteristic response. “ Yes, Mrs. Crlmmins,
another glass of beer is what I sha’n’t object to,
and you can even depend'on me to run down
for a fresh supply when the pitcher is empty.”

“I’ve no doubt of it,” said Luella, smi ing.
“You are seldom backward about coming for-
ward in such an event, Cheese-it."

“ You’ve been about the Etna Laundry all
theimOTning i” asked the detective, a little im-

t ent y.

“ All the mornin , boss,” cheeril . “ And,
I’ve just time for a ew mouthfuls be ore hurry-
ing back to my work.”

‘ Your work ?”

“It’s a go, boss!”

" Explain yourself, my boy.”

“I’m regularly engaged as Dick Moresby’s
assilstegit in the engine-room, besides miscellaae~
ous v.

“ That isn't bad for a beginning.”

“ Ha!” with his mouth full; “t 91/ may find it
the worse for an ending."

“ Go on with your story.”

" Old Grlscom hired me on sight—fourdollars
a week, and my washing! Don’t your mouth
water over it, boss! But you’re out. ‘ Tummas’
is already getting rich asa horse car stableman’s
helper, as informed the old gal, so that his ap-
plication won’t be looked for.”

Old Grip nodded his approval, while Luella
lau hed outright.

“ ‘o I am regularly installed, boss. Have al-
ready made fair-to-middlin’ friends with the
young engineer, our antagonist of last evening,

esides improving Samm ’s acquaintance, v~
ing fairish satisfaction tot eforowoman,lick I:
one of the Chinamen, and mashing half the gals
in the ironing-room.

“Not so very bad for a starter, eh, boss! At
all events, I feel real encouraged in my new in-
dustry, and may even be promoted to bossing
the mangles if I apply in self real close.”

“ You vs done well an rapidly. What about
Moresb 1"

“Not ing as yet,” with ashake of the head,
while mastering a fresh piece of pie.

“ Didn't the boy Sammy exaggerate with re—
gard to the man’s mystery 9"

” Not a bit.”

“ He is merely a name there, then, and noth»
lug more substantial i” -

That’s about the size of it, boss. Exceptin
Mrs. Griscom and Dick Moresby, the man s
younger brotf er, I don’t believe any one about
the place has ever set eyes on him—that is, to
know who he was.”

“Perhaps he is a myth?”

“I’ve thou ht of that. But then. would the

oung lady ack up yonder in Whippoorwill

ve written a letter to a mythi”

“ Perhaps so, as a blind."

l

.~

y ’ y‘ F

' 8

‘Old Gfip’s sun Hunt.

 

” That is true.”

“ However, didn’t any noticeable person show
up at the laundry?”

“ Yes, and that was after Mrs. Griscom had
gone away. It seems she has an eccentric habit
of disappearing at odd times, leaving one of the
most trusted of the ironers, a Lucy Jarvis, in
her )lace.”

“ )ho! that is worth considering in itself.”

“Yes, a suurt of sub-mystery, you might call
it. But 1’ll get at the bottom of that one, soon-
er or later.”

” You speak confidently."

“ And feel confidenter, boss.”

H  p? I

“ Lucy Jarvis is m particular mash."

3 hi ’and Luella aughed again.
“ “ ho was the noticeable person you spoke of
as appeari ug there i” .

“ A tall,finevlooking swell, dressed to kill. He
', seemed to be put out at not finding Mrs. Gris-
,{4 com, for whom he in uired.”

w “Another mystery ”

“Not altogether. They all knows little about
him. He has called many times, yet, strange to
say, always to inquire for Mrs. Griscom the
forewoman, and just as invariably to find her
‘nix coom arouse !' ”

“ That is strange, as you say.”

“ There’s stranger yet."

“ What is it?" .

“ You remember that palatial hall and stair-
way we stumbled in upon so unexpectedly?"

“ I. should say so.”

“Well this swell has a he to the communi-
cating door. and always ma es his way to the
street from the oflice by that means. or goes up
that fli ht of stairs, no one seems to know exact—
ly whic ."

“ But there was no street-connection with the
rich little hallway, I remarked."

“ The connection is a roundabout one-out
back through an area." ' ’

    
  
 
 
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
 

swell!”

“ He’s a count.”

“ A count i” v

“ The Count Montalbert. That is all: could
learn about him. " _

Luella clapped her hands togetherflsnd ex-
changed a gratified glance with 1d Grip.

“It’s the ‘nning of the end!” exclaimed
the latter. “ T is Count Montalbertand Henry

’ Moresby, Maud Markham’s mysterious corrw

pendent, are - unquestionably one and the
same

“Hull's!” cried Cheese-it; “you really think

so, boss -

“ Note. doubt of it. ”

And the detective briefly sketched, for his lit-
tle assistant’s benefit, the outcome of his inter-
view with the banker.

“ By Jupiter!" said the boy, “this is tting
so knotty and intereatin that I’ll e that
steam laundry hot but w t I’ll find out some-
thing more worth knowing before night. Au
risers as the frog-eaters say.”

And he disappeared.

“ Cheese-it is growing more and more useful
' to you every day.” observed Luella, a little lat—
; or on, in their snu drawing-room where her

husband, had ligh hisci ar.) “ Whatshallbe
{slur next immediate stepi ’she added, when he
mg puffed away thoughtfme without answer-
.“ Can’t say exact] . We hadbetter ksepquiet
for a few days, w e folio up this Moresby
sfi’air, though Goldkirk will ve to be seen

in u in the interim—perhaps to-morrow

fitnt‘l‘fifiimh'" ..... w...
.‘ c g a run u to

 and make friends xthere, sooner 3’;
ater. '

   
   
    
   
   
  
   
  

, “ Taking me with on?" eriy.

g “ That depends. on see, f we could see our
way a little more clearly with regard to this
Morssby-Montslbert fellow, all mig t be pretty
plain sailing. ”

Here there was a rin at the apartment-bell,
and presently Nelly, 1: sir neat housemaid, ap-

re . . -
PegThe gentleman is in the go, sir," she
said,presenting a card, “and 9 says he would
like very much to see you.” "
, The detective glanced at the card with an as-
tonished look, and then handed it to his wife
withouta word.
It bore an elaborate crest, and under that the
pretentious name: ,

‘ ,“ Mousmua Li: Conn: Essa: Monaural}

 
   

 
 

CHAPTER XI.
, s nonnsious INTERVIEW. ’
' ‘“Wonnsa Will never cease 1" commented
Luella,ra1sing her 0 es in blank astonishment
,komtheperusaiof card. “Talk of an an-
' andryou ‘hear the rustle of his wings."
_ ‘ merely nodded, and pointed to an
adjoining room in which she pould overhear
a what should pass if she chose, andthen,‘ as his
wifewnoigstheimfl‘ym disamppeared, he signed the maid
w . . «
‘SGeuntEsnriKontalbert'Wesamiddls-sged,
ku-featured man, with singularly piercing

 
  
   
 

      
 
 

“Aha! and the name of this mysterious

, venerable Griscom', besi

 

black eyes, tall, graceful, elegantly dressed, and
with a combined suggestion of gentlemanly
composure. powerful intelligence, and, possibly,
a vast amount of reserved energy and strengt .
“Sir,” said he, after accepting a proffered
chair, with the exchan e of a few common-
places, “if I err not I ave the honor _of ad-
dressing Mr. Edward Crimmins, otherwise Old
Grii‘p, the world-famous American detective?”
6 spoke with a very slight foreign accent,
which might have been assumed.
“I am Edward Crimmins, sir, sometimes
called Old Grip.” was the detectiVe’s blunt re-

pl .

xAllow me to ask you if you remember to
have seen me beforei”

“ Yes; this morning in the hallway of Mr.
Banker Goldkirk's house, as I was on the point
of quitting it.”

“ I mean prior to that."

“ I cannot say. Your face is vaguely famil-
iar to me, but I cannot at present place it.”

The visitor smiled.

“ I may be able to assist our memor on
that point ” he said, easily. ‘ But first, a low
me to ask if you were not considerably surprised
at receiving my card i"

t ‘3 Very considerably,sir; I freely acknowledge

I“ Thanks for your frankness, which I intend

I to imitate, and in a manner which I dare say

will complete your astonishment.”
“ Eh bum, Monsieur le «Comte, I am awaiting

your .”/
The count burst into a genuinely-amused

u h.

“gLet me be u at the beginning, then—b
declaring myi entity,”he replied, aylv. “ ,
my dear Crimmins, am Jud Jelli e, English
burglar, confidence-man, adventurer and rogue-

at-la e, alias Count Montalbert, alias Henry

Mores y, and too many other fictions for enu-‘
meration. Aha! confess that I did not over-'

estimate the surprise I promised you."

In spite of his iron self-possess on, which was
ordinarily little short of Talleyrandesque, the de-
toctive had momentarily ven we to the
supreme. astonishment whic this who i unex-
pected frankness on the part of his visi r had
caused him.

It was almost like a shock. . I

“ I do confess it!” he exclaimed. “ You have
fulfilled your promise to the letter.”

“ Have I not?” in high good-humor. “ Now
can you remember to have 'seen me before this
morning at the house of our incorruptible and
aiglfiz;,i’iioral mutual friend the banker? Ha,

a .

6m Gri shook his head.

“No,” e rs lied. “though your face dimly
suggests some amiliarity in my memory. Bu ;
of course, you are known to me b reputation.’

“That goes without an ing. therwise, on
were scarcely a veteran etective of note. ut
I warn you, my friend, I am not through with
my surprises yet.” , .

‘ Cut away! By the we , my wife and I
just arose from luncheon be are your entrance,
and if I might offer—”

“ Thanks, no! for I just arose from luncheon
before comm here—at Pa Goldkirk’s palace,
mind you, t on h with he pater pleasantly
cons icuous by h s absence, and only the = ador-
able iss Blanche as my entertainer.”

“ Still we shall have some beer, if you say so,
and there are some fairish cigars at your el-

w.
“ With all my heart!" ‘
The beer bein provided, and Mr. Jud J elllfie,
of the manyal ses havin gaylyl' hted a of-
, his spirits, capital as boy had a from
t e outset, seemed to rise with the occasion.
“Aha!” he exclaimed. airily; “ this is coin-
fort. Now we can be said to been train. Capi-
tal beer, too!” smacking his li s over a first
glassful. “ Do on know, my ear 0 ,
our'Aimericen gar is a glcrlous institu i
1 ad! on a sultry afternoonshch as this I prefer
it tochampagne itself. Thanks! the beauty of
it is that you can keep on swilling the stufl
without and, the one glass creatin but an
afeeable thirst for its successor. ell, well‘,
w are are we? Yes- on had never met me be-
fore this morning. ere’s where I had thead-
vantage of you. old fellow; for I saw you last
ni ht and recognized you at that.” ,
You are sure of that!” ’

“ I should say I was sure!”

” How and where?” '

“At the laund office in four countryman’s
disguise- on an the little ellow. The deuce!
it was a rcus. And how you did humbug the
dos capsizing that dumb-
head of a brother of mine! Ha, ha, ha! Too
fresh by a ugful, that brother of mine. I'shall

 

 
   
 
 
 

 
 
    
  
 
  
 
 
      
   
 

    
  
  
  
  
  

have tote. shim in hand. What! I’ve scored

you another eye-opener? Confess it!” ,
But the detective was altogether too‘ cha-
gnned to for the nonce. ‘ . "
his oft-vaunted sue s in dis-
and by an

  
 
 

What good V
guises, if thus penetrable at 9. Ian
eye of. whose ,very existence
aware? , ~ ~

re

  

 

    
 

 
 
   
  
   
  
 

e had been/un-‘

 

was no  for histggmbled ' I A
self ' at t, Inc- ,the whereabouts of theiswag'
‘ ' ' ' v elmmmfl » 10913711

“ You saw and penetrated all this?” he at last
found the voice to exclaim.

“ Else how could I speak of it?”

“ True. Where were you?”

“ That would be giving myself away. How—
ever, all in good time. I mean to keep nothing
back. To tell the truth,” filling and emptying
his glass afresh with no little gusto. “ I rather
enjoy this sort of thing.”

‘You seem to,” dryly.

“ The deuce! don‘t be dashed. If your detec-
tive's art for once proved penetrable, it was
only so to the sharpest eyes in Europe, if not in
the world.”

“ I believe you.” ~

” You may. Besides in being here now

7
with these extraordinar a missions. is a direct
compliment to your pro essional ability, as you
will I:presently understand."

“ at me question on a bit.”

“Drive away 1” hi ariously.

“ Why are you such a mystery anent that
steam laundry connection?" v

“ You to ask such a uestionl What rogue
doesn't live by mystery —and the deeper the
m stery the better living i" v

‘ True in the main: though much of your
mysteriousness seems to have been altogether
unnecessary.”

” Are on sure of that? Didn’t it puzzle you
just a t fie?”

“ Granted ; for the time being it did."

“And couldn’t have been sustained against
you for any considerable length of time?
Granted in turn. Hence I am here showing up
my hand."

‘ Count Montalhert. or whichever name you
may refer for the present—”

“ at will do, if you’ve no objection.”

“ None whatever. Count Montaibert, you are
a very extraordinary man I” '

“ Am I not? And perhaps I am not the less
extraordinary for puzzling ou afresh with this
unexpected and unsolicite frankness on my

tit-tif‘me.” ‘

“ That also shall be made clear to you before
we so ate.” ' ’

H I 0 so.”

“ You will not be disappointed."

“ What I could not understand was your
periodical inquiries at the laundry, in your res—
out character, for Mrs. Griscom, only to flu her

‘ absent.”

The veteran rogue burst into a pleasant iau h.
“ All prearranged, merely to highten t e
in story.” r
‘ The woman is your pal, then?"
“ An old friend, sir, a very old friend—tried
and trusted.” .
“ Hum h] And your Moreshy character?”
“ Simp my own, under andther name.
Fortunate y, you haven’t got me in any of your
American r0 es' galleries yet.”
“ And the aund establishment itselii”
“ Abana eb essfor Griscom's pecuniary
grofit, wit myself as h r financial backer.
at, of course, it wouldn exist, save also as
my convenience.” . ‘ -
‘ In what way!” ‘
“ You obtained a glimpse into that little pri-
vate hali’gvay and stairi’ ,
es

“ Rather neat, eh, not to say luxuriously sug-

estivei” ‘

“ It struck me that way.” \

“My friend, I also am luxurious. by nature.
both In gestively and really. In fact, even old
Goldkir can’t go me much better in that line,
bloated with money though he be.” .

“ Ah! it is your retreat, then—somewhere up
at the head 0 the little staircase." _

“ My friend, you havemy secret. A retreat?
Yes; and none ovelier, more sumptuous, more
Oriental. Even that wine-bibbing old hypocrite

Goldkirk’s at the top of his bank building can’t .

surpass m sundry-den; Ever seen his?" .
“ No; thyough Iprobably shall.” f
“ Doubtless.” ‘ , /
Thai-ewes a momentary silence. /

, CHAPTER 'x'u.
m c m commons ms swarmsns.
“WELL continuedWhe detective’s stran e

 

“visitor at i“ have I made myself sufficient Y

lain as to t e laundry mystery, as 1 may call
t, and my oh set in maintaining it up totho
presenttime

“I s pose
such a cod 0 revelations as you have so gener-
ously vouohsafed, it were scarcely polite to in-
sist 0 too much minutiae.” , .
“ 0 lrho deucel but I am “5.01m: tordo better
than t at b you, my frie Give me your
strict atten on.” g . , .- ;

6‘ Y I

“ I shum not the tar of . the v Occidental

National Bank, as you ubtless suppose. though

I can since my hand upon him stony hour; and

ms

thohgh that remains
* “ Smile, if

“ The name’of the realcriminsl

  

    

   

  
 
  
    
 
 
 
 

 

ofm

   

,’!réplisd the deteciiVe. ‘f With ’

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to‘ seen.',."‘,. ',
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(Du—Va?

H

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“APE—i

GGD' c

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

9

 

 

is the only important secret that it is my inten—
tention to withhold from you at present.

“ As Henry Moresby, I became the associate
and friend of Claude Markham, two ears ago.

“ I use the word ‘ friend ’advisedly ’ -—berethe
man’s voice and manner became deeply earnest
—“ and in the truest, best sense.

“ The young man had not been long married,
and was newly thrown upon the world, desper-
ate, all but characterless, through the vengeful
spite of that infernally black—hearted, specwus
h ocrite, Clifford Goldkirk. Claude was in a
bigway. If he hadn’t altogether ‘ fallen among
thieves,’ he was tangled up, socially and other-
wise, with a tough crowd.

“ I befriended him as I had never befriended
mortal man before. I saved him—not only from
his associates, but from himself. ‘

“The modest but sufficient employment in
which he was engaged at the time of that vil-
lain, Goldkirk, fastening upon him this unjust
suspicion, and thus compelling his flight (on my
advice) was procured for him through my agency
-—indirect of course.

“ I still love the young man, and mean to see
him through this thing safe and sound. As for
the young and beautiful wife, she is sim ly an
earthly angel—one of the purest and nob est of
women.

“ Utterly bad as I have been, and unmiti-
gatedly corrupt as I am at this hour, I would as
cheerful! sacrifice my life—even my liberty,
which is carer yet—to shield her from misfor-
tune or misery as if she were my own sister-
and I had a sister once—an only sister.

“ But, enough of myself in this sentimental
line,” with a hard laugh, which at once seemed
to nullify and obliterate the feeling earnestness
with which he had been speaking. “ I am now
approaching a certain proposition which I intend
to make to you, and which will doubtless explain
in a great measure the unwanted, not to say
unprecedented, frankness of these disclosures
which you have found so an rising.

“ I will, therefore, first te you what I offer
on my part, in return for a certain assistance
that shall request on yours.

“ Within one month from this time I shall
place the real burglar of the Occidental Nation—
al Bank in your hands, together with informa-
tion that shall result, almost immediately. in the
recovery of the stolen cash and bonds.

“ You will thus reap your money-reward, to
say nothin of the increased advantage to your
professions. reputation.

But hold on! Am I

“ In addition to this—
right in surmising that ou believe in Claude
Markham’s innocence 0 this charge, and are
interested in seein his vindication before-the
world, together wit such a resum tion of do-
mestic happinessas that may imply orboth him-
self and his noble wife?”

” You are ri ht in that surmise,” responded
the detective, s owly, “ perfectly right.”

“Good, and welcome! In addition to what
I have already set down, then, I engage
myself also to eflect that happy vindication in
the young couple’s case, as just outlined, and
within the same prescribed time—one month
hence.

‘f Nay, more—one thin more. I engage to
bring ‘the villain Goldkir ’s treachery home to
him, with a punishment such as only he can fit]
appreciate—well, as to make him wish himse f
in Hades for a cooling change, before ’1 shall
have done with him.”

As Montalbert came to a pause, with a
caller look, it occurred to the detective to as :

“ And what is the punishment you design for
the bank president’s scoundrelismi”

The other repeated his hard laugh, with a
shrug of his powerful shoulders.

“ Look you ” he replied, with a significant
downward an crushing movement of the thumb,
“ I shall have him everlastineg thus! You un-
derstandi”

“ I think I do.”

“Bah! A world-pampered banker under a
thief’s thumb! Gods! but won’t he squirm! And
yet tWIst, twist I wrench, wrench! will turn and
grind the screw, and how he will bleed—chink,
chink, chink l—-so long as there is coin or paper
in_ his accursed coffers!” and Montalbert closed
With his low, deadly laugh.

The instinctive li ing which the detective had
begun to feel for the fellow was more or less
dismpated by his vmce and manner, notwith-
standing the little occasion he had for pitying
the banker’s prespective sufferings.

“But let me not count my chickens before
they are hatched, or even my eg s so much as
pipped,” continued the rogue, W! h a repetition
of his less disagreeable laugh, while tossing of!
a fresh glass of beer. “Look here, friend
Crimmins, it is to you I look for the realization

', of these rosy—or let us say, golden, or rustling

—gold~chinking and bank-note—rustling dreams. ’

“ To me 1”

“Why, of course! All that I have romised
I engage myself to perform for you to he letter
—-and suppose on will acknowledge that it is
an agreeable outlook in your favor?”

“ I do acknowledge that.”

“ And now comes the pivotal question—what
are you to do for me in return to clinch the
proposition and cement the berg n!”

 

“ Ah! help you et the banker by the throat,
I suppose—or by t e purse-strings, which is the
same thing?”

“ Not quite; and yet yes, indirectly. That
would follow as a consequence, as you will pres—
ent! understand.”

“ Vhat is it you would demand of me in re-
turn!” Crimniins abruptly demanded.

Montalbert looked at him with his softest and
pleasantest smile.

“Simply this: Hands off while I marry the
daughter !"

Old Grip started.

Much as he had anticipated, or might have
anticipatedgthe answer, it struck upon him jar-
rin l , wickedly.

“ on will now understand the object of my
extraordinary frankness with you, my friend, ’
Montalbert hastened to say, without waiting
for his answer. " I said it was a compliment to
your rofessional ability and so you must find
it. nowing you to he s euthing on my heels, I
knew that sooner or later you must spoil my
game ; therefore I concluded to meet and counter
you, if ossible, as I have done. What is your
answer ”

Old Grip had turned the whole matter over in
his mind with lightnin -like precision and
ra idit , and was still an ecided.

The ellow’s promises were a glittering bait,
and there was a smack of their being made in
genuine sincerity, notwithstanding that the de-
tective was scarcely prepared for fullbelief inhis
assertion that the burglary of the bank was the
work of another hand than his (Montalbert‘s)

wn.

Still more—here was the happiness of an un-
sus ecting young girl in the balance, shallow
and) foolish as she might be, and notwithstand-
ing the contemptuous and deserved dislike in
which the detective held her rascally sire.

Montalbert seemed to divine the doubts that
Were passing in his companion’s mind, for, after
a moment’s pause he hastened to say:

“ There is one thin in my favor old fellow
that you must un erstand distinctly — and
proofs can be furnished of its truth, if re-

quired.

“ Don’t think,” with his soft laugh, “ I am go-
ing to ask you to believe me a non-fortune—
hunter, or anything so preposterous. No, the
one remaining thing I would have you under-
stand is in the oun lady’s favor.

“ It is this: rea ly care for her, and—I am
not married already, nor have I ever been,
strange as it may seem to you, my life and ca—
reer considered.”

CHAPTER XlIl.
OLD cair‘s TEMPTATION.

TEE detective still hesitated in his replyto
Montalbert’s extraordinary and tempting pro-
position, aiid something opportuuely occurred
at this juncture which afforded him yet more
deliberation in the matter.

There was a knock at the door,anda telegram
was laced-in his hands.

W en he had resumed his seat, he abruptly
said, while furtively watching the effect of the
announcement upon his companion:

“ Kelly, the assaulted bank watchman, is dead
of his wound!”

But Montalbert, beyond a slight expression
of natural surprise, did not change so much as a

air.

“ Who’s Kelly?” he asked. .

The detective ave an inner sigh of disap-
pointment, for his momentary test, as just ap-
plied, had failed.

The telegram was from the hospital, and its
announcement thus made murder as a direct
accompaniment of the bank burglary; a grave
fact scarcely to be lightly considered by the
real robber concerned—for no thief, however
indurated or veteran, can he suddenly brought
home to accomplished murder as the associate
of his lesser crime without an agpalled sensa-
tion, it being the death-penaltya dition to his
State-Prison dread; and yet. here was this
man even after the purport of the telegram
had been more fully explained to him, evincng
not so much as the tremor of an eyelid over
the announcement.

"Poor devil!” was Montalbert’s sole com-
ment. “ But then,” phiIOsophically, “ a knack
always incurs just such chances, as a matter of
course. And, to tell the truth, Crimmins, I
am really sorr for Jack Stal— Hallo l”with
a look of genu e alarm; “it was nearly of m
tongue, and then where would I have been wit
this reposition of mine!

“ was merely goin to say that I feel even
sorrier for the opera r than for his victim.
Rather a ood, up-and—up man, you must un-
derstand, n spite of his obduracy with me in
regard to those letters.”

Old Grip caught at the word.

“ The letters? he echoed.

“Yes, es!”

“ Ah! the banker’s missing letters?”

“ Of course.”

“ Then you—you haven‘t had access to those
letters as yet i”

Montalbert broke into his hearty laugh.

"My dear Crimmins, what a uestionlllhe
exclaimed. “ Would I be here wit my present

 

proposition to you, with those precious letters
in my possession, or even with the remotest
chance of getting hold of them?”

“ Ah! perhaps not.”

“ I should smile! Why, with those letters as
my open, Sl’SflnlC to the banker’s fears, I would
be already up to my armpits in his brimming

ile, while taking my leisure with Miss Blanche!

Vhereas, now—worse luck for me, though all
the better for you— I must necessarily have the
girl as my preliminary measure."

“ It would seem so. Montalbert, what do you
know about those letters?’

“ Only what I have learned, or liavc been led
to infer, from my intimacy with the Markhams
—-and that is enough, in al consciem c l”

“ Am I right in supposing that they ruinoust
compromise the banker With respect to some
thing else than his mere ridiculousness in so
boring rs. Markham with his hopeless love-
making prior to her marriage, when she was his
daughter’s governess?"

“ You are. Wait a bit. I shall violate no
confidence in giving you the story in outline."

“ I wish you would.”

“As you are perhaps aware, Mrs. Markham
is an exceedingly handsome woman to this day;
and she must be thirty or more by this time, to
say nothing of the wearing anxiety and unhap—
piness she has passed through.

“ What must she have been at twent -three,
or thereabouts—flve or six gears ago w on she
firstth chargeof la petite lanche,t emother-
less and will ul little daughter of prism Gold-
kirk’s house and heart? A solutely ra iant, no
doubt. .

“ Our money-bags was not long in thinking so,
at all events.

” As near as I can gather, he began to pester
the young lady with his marital aspirations al-
most from the beginning. Gad! it must have
been a case of December and May, and I doubt
not that he flatly offered his heart and hand on
the first day of her arrival.

“ She probably refused the offer as flatly as it
was made, but this did not save her from all.
manner of annoyances and embarrassments.
One might have supposed Goldkirk to know
better, but he seemed to be completely infatu-
ated from the start. Refusing to believe in the
sincerity of the young lady’s first refusal of his
glittering offer—and, for the life of inc, I can’t
exactly understand it myself—he provoked fre~
quent repetitions of it, and a parently with little
or no discouragement. He ollowed her every-
where, was spooney in the arlor no less than at
public entertainments, an would hop around
to pick up her fan or handkerchief with the Spl‘V
servility of a Parisian dand at a prima donna‘s
reception. Even the ridicu e which he incurrv d
at every hand did not change his ludicrous
course, or perhaps he was too bewitched to no-- ’
tice it at the time.

“But, the comment thus challenged at last
became sufficiently unbearable to the object of
these uniquely hopeless attentions, howsoever
they might be lost upon the man who persisted
in makin such a guy of himself.

“ Her t reats to throw up her em loyment
had no effect, or merely called forth solemn
promises of amendment, to be broken as rapidly
as made. Why did she remain at all? you
might ask.

“ Who knows? She was poor, for one thin ,
and her salary was liberal. She had probab y
already lost her heart to Claude, for another
thing. And, finally, she had perhaps come to
love and pity her young char e, Blanche.

“Be that as it may, with t e exception of ii

riod of one month, or a little longer, when

er employer’s esterin insistence upon his
hopeless suit for er han compelled her to seek
a respite elsewhere, remain she did.

“ hink of it! A poor young woman, alone
and comparatively friendless in the world, fly-
ing from the marriage-offers of a decently re-
spectable, not unattractive and fairly well-pre-
served millionaire, with theincome of a princess
as pin-money! By Jupiter! it is unparalleled!
As well suppose an army of starving tramps
fleeing from volleys of canister shotted with ‘-
plum-pudding and greenbacksl I can‘t under-
stand t yetl’

“ I can,” interposed the detective, “ on the as—
sumption of absolute nobleness and independ—
ence of character on the oung woman’s part.”

"Ah, well, perhaps. at to return to our
sheep as the Italians say: it was that brief
period of absence that was the occasion of this
gai’ng correspondence I amso anxious to ch-

11.

“ What do you think it consists of i”

“Of a dozen or more fool-letters from Gold-
kirk to the young lady. The latter contributed
but two answers to the corres dence;——his,
for the most part, a mere repetition on paper at

' the frantic and persistent prayers forher hand

which had been so unsuccessful by word of
month.”

“But the mere folly of such stufl' couldn‘t
cause him such aglonized anxiety. A man is at
libe to be a foo without fear of the ropecr
State risen.”

“Softly! One letter—the gem of the collec-
tion—was sent to the young lady by mistake. It
was a letter newly received by Goldkirk from.

 

10

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

 

an old confederate of his in a now forgotten
forgery, settin forth the crime with the most
elaborate detai s—such a letter as might State
Prison the banker at this day, if once made
public!”

“ Oho! That is something, to be sure!”

“ Yes, 1 should say it was; and Goldkirk’s
subsequent letters were no longer love-prayers
in toto, but terrified beseechings that this niis-
sent letter might be returned to him at any
cost. See?”

The detective nodded.

“ Miss Crust was not such a fool,” continued
the adventurer, “ as not to see that she had her
tormentor on the hip at last. She finally wrote
him in reply, flatly rofusin to return the in-
criminating letter. She won (1 not use it against
him, unless driven to desperation, but would
sini lv retain it in self—defense.

“ e thereupon wrote her a last letter, repre-
senting that his young daughter Was seriously
ill, and beseeching her to return to her charge,
if but for a short time.

“ She unsuspectineg consented. This was
but the beginning of the end. N0tw1thstanding
" that the governess found the illness of her
young charge to have been grossly exaggerated,
for several weeks thereafter she was compara-
tively freed from the man’s importunities to
marry her.

" But in the mean time he had heard of her be-
trothal to Markham, and his jealous rage was
seething under his mask of calmness. His weak
and sinister character betrayed the real man
that he was.

“ He demanded that she should throw over her
lover and marry him forthwith, injudiciously
coupling the demand with threats of vengeance
ppm; the heads of both in the event of her re-

use. .

“ She replied to him with the contempt he de-
served, and quitted his house summarily and
forever; but only to find that the lock of one of
her trunks had been secretly tampered with and
the letters abstracted.

“ The banker was no longer in her power! A
few weeks thereafter she married Claude, who
had already been discharged from Goldkirk’s
employment on a trumpedvup charge that he
had become habitually dishonest and profii ate.
Then the trials of the young couple began. on
know the rest. ” __

CHAPTER XIV.
iron HONOR AND HONOR.

“ WIY, do you think, should Goldkirk,” was
the detectives first question following upon the
im ressive pause that succeeded the completion
of ontalbert’s remarkable piece of secret his-
tory, “ have been so insensate as not to have
destroyed such a self-incriminating correspon-
dence instantl upon its coming into his pos-
session, instea of preserving it, even in his ap-
plarggtly impregnable bank-safe, or anywhere
e se.

Montalbert shrugged his shoulders and ele—
vated his eyebrows, while making a T'fresh
requisition upon the beer—pitcher which had
been replenished by the housemaid from time
to time in the course of the prolonged inter-
View.

“Why, indeed! Is there any accounting for
the invariable shallowness of even the cleverest
rascals upon some one vital point or other in
even the best and deepest laid of their plots?”

“That is true.”

“I s eak by the book, you kn0w,” with a. re-
turn 0 his original gayety. “ Voila, my friend!
Dip us as she may in her charmed waters of
impregnability, there remains ever the un-
armored spot where Fate pinches us by the
heel in the dipping, and where the random ar-
row pierces us to the death, as in the case of
Achilles, in the bitter end.”

The detective could not but smile wonderineg
at this moralizing (wholly new, even in his
veteran experience) on the art of the brilliant
but self-confessed social out aw before him.

“ It is a fatuity,” continued Montalbert,

"that is suflioient‘y providential for society,
though tough enoui ‘i on the rogue who would
‘make her his pre his oyster, which, like
Pistol—or Pains, or Bardolph, wh1ch_of the
rare rascals was iti—he would open with the
sword of his cunnin , only to be hand-nipped in
the end, when—ha, a, ha! what dream-trans-
formations are in this cat—nap of existence?—
click! and the shell-jaws of the metaphorical
bivalve become the sprin ~catch of your pro-
fessional n'ip rs, your piti ess handcuffs.

“Why is t that your ablest murderer, or
most accomplished adventuress, mustso often

rsist in that photographic diary-buliness, for

tance. that comes in at his or her final crims,
fatal as the handwriting on the wall. and yet
self-woven, self-evoked from the very first? I

“Or perhaps you may have read Godwin’s
Caleb Williams, and can recall the infatuation
of his persecntor. the murderer Squire Falk-
land, in preserving the blood-rusted knife which

roves his final mint—Effectively dramatized,

y the way, in the old play of The Iron Chest,
wherein the guilty but pitiable squire figures as

Sir Edward Mortimer.

“ The old stor of the one vulnerable spot—

the forgotten he -pinch!

 

” Puzzles, my friend, psychological unanswer-
ables, trivial in their first seeming, but unerr-
inglv fatal in their consequences.

“Have I been more circumspecttlian the resti
A little diary of my own might give the lie to
whatever vaunt my vanity might prompt in the
decidedly shaky premises.

“ But, look here!” suddenly rising. and with
laughing abruptness; “how about the proposi-
tion that brings me here? You still hesitate?”

It was a lact that Old Grip did still hesitate.
He was not without his weaknesses, and the
temptation to pronise so little (notwithstanding
that it might involve Blanche Goldkirk’s heart-
shipwreck, if that could be called little) for so
much, was already making a serious breach in
the citadel of his honor, though he was not yet
read to quite capitulate.

“ do hesitate,” he admitted.

“Why should you?”urged Montalbert, with
renewed earnestness. “ Think, in conjunctioii
with all that I oil‘er, of how little is asked—
Neutrality—hands off—that is all.”

“ By Jupiter 1” with sudden passion; “ isn’t the
girl’s victimization something?”

Montalliert laughed, snapping his fingers

airilyd‘
“ 1 hard word for jubilation, my friend "he
cried. “ Listen—it is in the air! Bridal bells
and roses! with that old wretcli of a bank presi-
dent to pay the piper. Besides, I was never
other than gentle with women, and the girl real—
ly touches me.”

" Give me time,” moodily. ” Besides—well, I
just can’t answer you definitely now. By the
way, what might Griscom, as you call her, say
to it?”

Montalbert snapped his fingers again and
fairl exploded with laughter.

“ he l'ossil! the mummy!” he cried, merrily.
“ Ah, my friend, for a grandmother, or even an
autntt, the dear woman might tear hercap-strings
a i . ’

“ I’ll think it over.”

“ Good ! bring me your answer to-night or the
next. Eh?”

5| Yes."

“A word as to my secret sumptuousness in

the laundry building. You mayhave remarked ‘

a narrow covered way between buildings to the
right of the office?"

‘ I did.”

“ Pass through into a small area, where a
knock on the apparently blank wooden wall to
the left—three knocks in swift succession, by the
way—will cause an unsuspected entrance to
open. Sabe?”

Old Grip nodded.

“ Good! To—night or the next?”

“ The next—to-morrow night.”

“Thanks! And you will be strictly neutral
at least until our next interview?”

(A Yes.”

“ Monsieur 1e Comte Henri Montalbert,” who
had already taken up his hat—an irreproach-
able tile—and thrown his fashionable satin-1
faced fall overcoat over his arm, smiled, nod-
ded, and was gone.

Oblivious for the moment to everything but
the thronging new thoughts and considerations
which the extraordinary interview had churned
confusedly up in his mind, the detectiveme-
mained for some moments buried in a troubled
reverie, his eyes blankly fixed upon the door
throihgh which his tempter had disappeared.

A ight movement in the room roused him to
look around at last.

Luella, his wife, was before him!

“ Oh i” he exclaimed, not noticing an ominous
pallor in her face; “ you must have overheard
everything. By Jove! my dear, I had forgot-
ten all about it.”

” Everything I”

With the repetition of that one word, in a
chanyd voice, she slightly advanced, touchin
his arm; and then for the first time he notice
how pale she was, and what a strained, anxious
look was come into her lovely face.

“What is the matter?" he cried, in alarm.
“ My dear, are you ill?”

He would have taken her in his arms, but
that she gently repelled him.

“Not yet, Edward l” she said, impressively;
“ not till you tell me ust how you shall answer
that man’s—that devl ’s—proposition !”

“ Oh !” uncomfortably.

“ Yes; and you ask if I am ill. Yes; ill at
ease—sick at heart with what I have over-
heard!”

“Well, it was a wonderful interview; and
that story of r Maud Markham was just too
pitiful—pitifu and blood-boiling."

” I am not alluding to that —distressing as it
undoubtedly was.”

“Tn what, then?”

“ As if you could not, or would not, know!”
with a reproachful look, accompanied by a
quiver of the lip.

“Om—ah! perhaps—ur—with reference to—
to the young girl—to Miss Goldkirk?”

“I am glad you have got enough conscience
remaining to understand me. sir!”

“Conscience, eh? Well, now look here, Lu-
ella. aren’t you coming it a hit strong?”

“Not half strong enough l”

“ Why, hang it all! what is the gilt-edged,

 

gold-fastened old finnncier’s daughter to you
and me? Besides, for aught we know to the
contrary, she may be a veritable chip of the old
block~—”

“ Silence, and for shame, Edward Crim-
mins!” exclaimed the young wife indignantly.
“Why rid you dare——how could you dare, as
an honest man and a man of honor—hesitate in
your answer to that accomplished scoundrel’s
detestable proposition ?"

“ Oh, come, come!" doggedly.

“ How could you do it? As your wife, and
as a woman, with the rest of womankind for
my sisters I demand to know!”

“ Well, didn’t vouchsafe him any answer, as
you must have learned.”

“ The more shame for you!”

“ In what, pray?"

“ In that you did not hurl back, with scorn
and contempt, his infamous proposition into his
teeth! That is what 1 mean to say.”

‘ My dear girl! you are a little hot. Men
don’t bargain, or do business, in that way.”

“ Business—bargaining, and with such a
shameless, self—celebrating wretch—the happi-
ness of a young girl of nineteen at stake!
Well, God be praised! women are incapable of
business of that sort. Ellen—or such as call
themselves men—can have the monopoly of it,
and welcome!”

“ Tush! tushl”

“ Edward Grippon, if you had not hesitated—
half committal as the mere fact of that hesita—
tion was—4f you had given your assent to that
scoundrel’s proposition here in this room, in my
hearing, I—I would have left you on the spot,
never to live with you again!”

He looked up quickly into her white, set face,
something in her tone seeming to touch him to
the marrow.

“ Luella you mean this?”

“ I do! do!"

“ You must be beside yourself!”

“ Not so; but wholl with myself—at one
with clear knowledge 0 what is due from man-
hood to virtue, to innocence, to inexperience in
womanhood! And now I want to know just
what answer you are going to take to that man
when you see him again.”

Old Grip slowly rose, and cod the floor in
unwonted agitation, his min in a whirl of con-
tending thoughts and emotions.

But the troubled look grew less and less, and
flnall his face wholly cleared.

Su denly he turned, and threw open his

arms.

If the citadel of his honor had trembled to a.
capitulation under the tempter’s assaults, wife-
ly vigilance had leaped into the breach, and it
was saved l

Old Grip was the true heart again!

“ Luella!” he cried, brokenly.

“My husband!” with a glad cry.

“ You have conquered! Montalbert shall
have but one answer, come what may-rejec-
tion, refusal, contempt!”

She sprung into his arms with a relieved sob,
and there had been none purer, tenderer nor
more self—devoted since their bridal morn than
the embrace which followed.

CHAPTER XV.
A BANK PRESIDENT’S RELAXATIONS.
CHEESE-IT came home that evening with
nothing specially new to report, save that Mrs.
Griscom had reappeared in the laundry-office,
after a prolonged absence lasting the greater
art of the day, and in an exceptionally surly

 

umor.
“ I thought the old gr! would snap my head
off at one time,” sai he. “And she black-

uarded Dick Moresby about the waste of coal
in the engine-room, besides blowing up Lucy
Jarvis sky high for a small mistake in a Jew
family’s wash-bill. I’d have resigned my posi-
tion . d. qi], for a ke of beer.”

“ etter an on or a while yet," genialldy
counseled Old rip, for whom, as he sup se ,
the boy’s continuance at the laundry ha now
become a matter of comparatively small mo—
ment. “ Griscom’s connection with both Mares-
by and Count Montalbert is yet to be explained,
you know.”

Later on, he bade his wife good-night, and
set off for down-town, having determined to
seek that second interview with the banker at
his private “ den ” forthwith.

It was about nine o’clock when he reached the

, building owned and partly Occupied by the Oc~

cidental National Bank, which had scarcely a
rival among the towerin and latial business
piles in the neighborhoo of all street, Broad-
way and Trinity Church.

The streets were almost whofly deserted, as is
their wont at that hour and later on, while only
a faint twinkling of lights in the narrow comer-
windows of the far-away uppermost story
served to relieve the hushed and darkened life-
lessness of the huge edifice.

A ring at the side—styeet basement entrance,
however, brought to View. somewhat tardil y, a
uniformed colored janitor of gigantic propor-
tio 8, who eyed the visitor with surly suspicion
w ile the latter was making his desire to see
Mr. Goldkirk known.

“ I’se a standin’ order, sah, to admit you.

comfianionabie way i”
I S

 

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

11_

 

 

wheneber you should drap in,” said the janitor, 5

at last opening the door just Wide enough to
permit the detective to slip through, “ an’ at
ain’t my fault, if Mistah Goldkirk done find his—
seif sort ob cotched up by a s’prise in seein’ you.
De elewater am to de left sah, whar you done
see dut glimmerin’ gas-jet a-burnin'."

lle Carefully re-secured the entrance, and fol-
"owed the visitor into the car.

Then up they went, and music and laughter,
together with a sound of clinking glasses,
gradually became audible as they ascended.

At last, as the up-ilouting cubinet came to a
pause with a slight jar at me topmost well—
lighted landing, the festive sounds were found
to issue from an apartment separated by wide
folding-doors ironi the superbly—appointed hall—
way into which they stwped. ‘

The music. which had become distinct by this
time, suddenly stopped, and in its place there
was roared out a rollicking drinking-song at
Ithe top of an exceptionally powerful pair of

ungs.

This was followed by a confused hammering
of glasses upon a table, mingled with a chorus of
applauding voices, among which one that the
detective recognized as Mr. Bank President
Goldkirk’s, in a. decidedly mellowed condition,
was heard to call out:

“Once again, Manly, once againl Sing her
out, my flower!”

The janitor turned to his charge with a broad
grin that showed his ivories to the full.

“ De Daify-down-dillies am a bloomin’!” he
remarked.

Then he paused for a moment in a comic state
of hesitation.

“ By Jeeminently!” he gufl‘awed at last,
scratching his woollyr head, reflectively; “ de
boss am mighty pertickler when do Dailies am
in full swi ', but it ain’t my fault if he am
s’prised. e done told me to be shuah to fetch
yo’ straight up to him widout ceremony soon as
yo’ done mention de name.”

“ Still,” suggested the detective, rather en-
joying the situation, “ he mightn’t relish an in-
terruption on such an occasion. I wouldn’t like
you tonrisk losing your job on my account, you

now.

,“Sho’l” contemptuously, and with a toss of
the head;“ no danger ob dot, sahi”

“Still, you must get good pay for this sort of
night-work, with your secrecy thrown in?"

‘ It am not do pay, sah, dough dat ain’t to be
sneezed at,"signiflcantly, “ but I done know too
much, I does!"

Then he signed the visitor to accompany him,
and marched straight toward the folding-doors
the thick carpet effectually deadening the soun
of their advance, even had there otherwise been
.any danger of it being heard above the din
within, which there wasn’t. '

The colossus hesitated a last instant to com-
pose his countenance, which at once assumed
the gravity of an Oriental eunuch’s with a
death-warrant on its lips.

He suddenly flung the doors wide apart, call-
ing forth in stentorian tones:

‘ Mistah Crimmins, de detective!”

There was a confused break in the hubbub,
and then Mr. Goldkirk, who was presidin at
the feast in full blast, rushed toward the cor
With both hands angrily extended, his face
flushed, his eyessparkling with anger, and some-
thing very like an execration on his lips.

But it was too late.

The detective had already“sized up ” the rev-
elers, among whom he recognized several other
officers of the bank together with a number of
gentlemen (all middie<aged or older) high in the
world of finance and social respectability. and
nothing was to be done but to make a virtue of
the exposure that had been brought about.

He accordingly made an opening by advanc-
ing Agly, and seizing the banker by the

an .

“And is this the Daffodil Coterie, my dear
sir, some inkling of which has got abroad?” he
cried 'oviall . “ Well, it is only your own fault
that have interru ted the rites, and on cer-
tainl seem to be saving an innocent y royal
and estive time.”

“ What!” and Goldkirk recovered his presence
of mind, as the offending janitor beat a retreat;
“you are one of the liberal-minded sort, then,
Crimimns, who don’t see any harm in our re-
laxations from“ the cares of business in this

arm?” laughing. “ Why, none in the least

' —if vour constitutions can stand it!”

"Crimmins, You are a trumpi Come right
away and be introduced to our ‘ Clubbers 1’”

There was a ringing cheer from the festive
board,and Crimmins was incontinently dragged
up to make one of the roystering crew.

The music, which was furnished by several
German professionals installed in one corner of

the salon, struck up afresh, “Oh, He‘s a J olly '

Good Fellow l”wasstraightwayroaredinchorus,
to the clinking of glasses and the popping 'of
corks; and the interrupted festivities of the
Egfl’odil Coterie ' were once more at flood-
i e.

“ A health to our guest of the evening!" cried
.Mr. Goldkirk, when the song was finished.
“Gentlemen and fellow-Daffodils, this is to be

 

drank standing and with solemnity—after the I

ancient custom of the Daffodil Coterie."

The result was somewhat surprising to thenn-
initiated guest. .

Instead of standing, every “ Clubber” drained
his glass. and then, at a preconcerted signal
they all fell otl’ their chairs in divers undignifled
attitudes—under the table, about the table~legs,
sprawling singly or one over another.

“ \Vhy, how do you makethat out to be drink-
ing a health standing?” demanded the mystified
guest, when all had resumed their seats.

“ As a standing joke, of course 1” was shouted
in response, amid yells of laughter.

CHAPTER XVI.
“RELAXATION, sm, STRICTLY RELAXATION I”

BY this extraordinary demonstration the de-
tective was declared to have been made the
adopted child of the Dail‘cdil Coteric for the time
being, and the symposium was renewed with
even greater vigor than before.

Mr. Goldkirk himself sung a song; then an
enormously fat gentleman, whose capacity for
champagne seemed to be as limitless as a brew-
er’s apprentice for lager beer, essayed a horn-
pipe, amid roars of laughter; while a very thin
and cadaverous broker, whose word was his
bond in the Stock Exchange, undertook to imi-
tate Mr. Irving’s mannerisms in “ Hamlet”
with a painstaking solemnity that was rendered
excruciatingly funny by the fact that he was
too befuddled to wholly distinguish the insepar-
ability of the “ To be or not to be ” solilo uy
from “ The Boy Stood on the Burning Dec ,"
both of which productions he mixed up as inex-
tricably as the different wines whose intermin—
glin g was doubtless res onsible for his vagaries;
and similar idiocies fo lowed one another with
hardl a break.

“ hat do you think of it?” cried Mr. Gold—
kirk, slapping the detective on the back. “ Re-
creative enjoyment, chi"

“ It’s enjoyment, anyway—«of its kind," was
the non-committal res onse.

“ Relaxation; my 0y, strictly relaxation!
Pitch in! let her hum! Aha! I see you like a
little innocent unbending of this sort quite as
well as myself.”

The detective waited till his right-hand neigh-
bor gwho had pillowed a tired head upon his
shou der, where he was peacefully snoring) was
so obliging as to slip out of sight under the
table, and then re lied courteoust that unbend-
in was also enough in its way, if one re-
turned the ab ity of straightening up at pleas-
ure.

“ Those are my sentiments tool” interposed
an exaggeratedly urbane gent omen who sat op-
posite. “ Straight as a string even if drunk as
a wheel! That’s my motto to t 8 crack 0’ doom!
Sir, I would like the pleasure of drinking a glass
of wine with you.”

As he spoke, he rose majestically, lifted his
glass, wavered a little, smiled deprecatingly,
tripped over a cuspidor, and with a sort of flop,
quite unexpected] stood on his head.

“ Ha, ha, ha!" aughed Goldkirk. “ My dear
Duckle ,” to the urbane gentleman, “ you are
certain y on a string, if drunk as a wheel 1”

“ Mizzer Pres’dent,” blandly responded the
other, picking himself up with a grave dignity
of mien, “ I second the motion.”

Goldkii’k dug the detective in the ribs with
his fat forefinger.

“Good time, eh, Crimmins?” he exclaimed. a
trifle huskily. “ Have some more wine? Re-
laxation’s the thing, eh?”

“ Oh, yes!” replied Crimmins, gayly. “In
moderation, I suppose there is nothing like a
little harmless relaxation of this sort, my friend.
Solomon indulged in it." .

“ Those are the sentiments!” slightly hic-
coughed the banker. “Ah, my frien ,it is the
innocence of the motive that robs such pleasure
of its harm. Do try another glass of this extra
drvl Relaxation, sir, strict! relaxation!"

ut, putting asule the pro ered “ extra dry,”
the detective took the opportunity to say pri-
vately to the banker:

“ I had better call some other time when your
innocent relaxationsarea little less pronounced.
You are scarcely in the mood to discuss our
business affairs at resent.”

But. to his surpr se, Goldkirk‘s face instantly
cleared, and he abruptly rose from his dlvan
with a steady and alert air.

“ You are mistaken,” he replied. “ Business
must never be wholly neglected, even in the
midst of the most guileless enjoyment. My fel
low-daffodils, amuse yourselves without me for
a while. There’s wine carte blanche. And just
ate this way, my friend.”

he associate daffodils immediately struck up
a fresh chorus to thetime—old words, “ We won’t
go home till morning.”

Goldkirk led the way into a small, exquisitely
furnished cabinet, considerably apart from the
large apartments. .

Here be exchanged his dress-coat for a gener-
ously-flowered wrapper, sunk into an easy-chair
before a briskly-burning grate-fire. with a writ-
ing-table and materials convenient, and, sign-
ing the detective to occupya similar seat, he
looked up keenly and observantly. . . '

“ Of course, rimmins,” said he, a little grim-

 

 

ly, “ I had somewhat forgotten the sweepirg
terms of my next appointment with you here,
or you wouldn’t have surprised me as you have
to-night through the dunder-hcaded ofllciousm-ss
of that black lunkhead. I shall n.erely ask and
expect your reticeiice—your absolute reticence,”
with a meaning look, “ as to what you have seen
here.”

“De end u on me for that,‘Mr. Goldkirk,"
promp ly rep ied the detective. “Still, there
can’t be any real hni'in—pcrhaps—in such things
as a mere relaxation, you know."

“ Relaxation be — shammed l” disgustedly.
“ It’s high old fun, and the sort I like. I may
be a hypocrite in the presence of the World, but
I sha’n’t attempt to be so any longer in yours.
It wouldn’t pay; and, besides you will doubt-
less like me better, and we s all get along to-
gether more expeditiously, through my dropping
the necessary mask.”

Here was suddenly developed a phase of the
man’s character wholly unleokedfor on the
part of the detective, and not the less agreeable
for that.

“ You are right, sir," rejoined Old Gri . “ I
do like you better thus, and doubt not t at we
shall understand each other more thoroughly in
consequence. And as for the high old fun, as
you designate it, it’s doubtless all yery well in
its way, though not the sort I incline to.”

“ Now to business. Crimmins, I’ve reconsid-
ered the main matter. I sha’n't ask you again
to arrest that young men, Claude Markham, for
me. I’ll not even pretend any longer to believe
him actually guilty of the bunk—robbery, for I
never have really believed it. But, I do believe
he has that missing correspondence—he and the
wife together—I feel certain of it: and that
correspondence I must have restored to me, win
or lose, at an risk, or I am a ruined, guilt-cov-
ered man. believe I make myself understood
at last.”

This unexpected bluntness from such an unex—
pected quarter almost took the detective’s breath
uwa ; though he did not fail to understand that
wor dly calculation, or necessity of some sort,
must havo been chiefly if not altogether respon-
sible for the chap 6.

“ You do, sir," e replied, with fresh hearti-
ness, “ and there would have been no obscurity
nor misunderstanding whatever, Mr. Goldkirk,
if you had only adopted this ingenious course
from the start.’

The banker, from whose face and manner the
last vestige of sanctimoniousness had been eli-
minated for the time being, knitted his brows
thoughtfully.

“ Easier said than done," he said. ” Crim—
mins, hypocris may become a habit—an in-
grained part 0 a man’s nature—like every other
evil. But enough of that. I now meet you un-
masked, as man to man, simply because circum-
stances compel me to do so. No allusion to
that!” with a contemptuous glance in the direc-
tion of the roystering, which was being persist-
ent] kept up in the neighboring salon.
“ hether you had surprissd me to-night or
not, the change would have come sooner or later.
It had tol” .

“ I believe you. Pray go on. sir.”

“But I want you to go on. Let us go right to
the bottom of this thing.”

“ With all my heart. ‘

“ Well Why don’t you ask me again how it is
possible for Claude Markham to have those let-
tors in his possession, and not to have brou ht ‘
me to my marrow-bones before this, as you id
this morning?”

The detective laughed.

“ Hold on!” said be. “That was only ad-
vanced as against your hypocritical assumption
that the young man was guilty of the robbery—
and murder, as it has now become. For, of
course,
Kelly, t e watchman l”

“ Yes, yes! Well, all is still above-board
now; and would you still put that question to
me

“ Yes; I see no reason why I shouldn‘t."

“ I will tell you wh I feel certain the letters
are in the young coup e’s possession. ,

“In the first place, I feel instinctively that,
Claude Markham, through his whilom tough as-‘)
sociations, knew of the robbery after its com-I
mission, we will say.

“ Secondly, I wasn’t honest with [you in myl
assertions regarding the contents 0 the corre-i
spondence. They do compromise me irretriev-

ably, and altogether apart from my infatuated ’

desire to make the oung lad my wife when ‘
she was a governess in my serv co.

“ Thirdly. it was to the vital interest of both
man and wife to obtain possession of that corre-
Spondcnce, in sheer self-defense against in de—i
clared animosity to them.—You see that aim.
perfectly frank with you at last?”

CHAPTER XVII.
THE BANK PREZ'iIDENT IN A NEW ASPECT.
As Mr. Goldkn-k had come to an inquiring

 

pause, the detective felt it incumbent upon him * I

to make some sort of encouraging reply, the
more readily in that much of his contempt, if
not altoget er dislike. for the man began to
mollify in this unexpectedly new aspect of chum
acter which was presenting itself.

on must have heard of the death of

l

 

 
   

12

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

“ You are indeed becoming frank at last. and
with a vengeance!” he said, smiling. “ I thank
you for it, sir.”

“ I will continue then,” resumed the banker,

. with a gesture. “ Fourthly, then, Claude might
have secured the letters from the bank-robber,
and it is fair to assume that he did.

“ Fifthly and lastly, the strange fact that the
letters have not alread ' been uscd against me,
in a natural spirit of se f-defense or reprisal on
the part of the young couple, 1 charge to the ex—
ceptional magnam'mity ot' the lady in the case.
And that Maud Markham is a lady in every
sense of the word—as exemplary as she is beau-
tiful—I unhesitatingly at this late day contrib-
ute my unworthy testimony, much as I may
have distressed and annoyed her in the past.

“ There is your own objection to my theory
answered at last. And now tell me what you
think of it?”

The detective merely nodded genially, and
his hesitation to reply on the instant seemed
simply in order to turn the matter thoroughly
over in his mind.

But he was really considering many things.
First and most prominent in his thoughts being
the extraordinary change of base in his com-
panion’s methods.

Men do not change their whole natures in a
breath. Such transformations are merely, as
a rule, a fresh form of newer and deeper dis-
simulation, or theymay be said to smack of
the sudden and emotional revival conversions
which are so often as short-lived as they are

ronounced. Mr. Goldkirk’s sudden step from

ypocrisy to ingenuousness was a little over-
done, though it would scarcely do to let him
know of the suspicion; since hypocrisy must he
more or less fought with finesse, as fire with
fire, the world over, just so long as the world
itself is two-faced and insincere.

“ You argue it ingeniously, sir ” was accord-
ingly; the detective’s cautious reply.

‘ ut what do you think of it'll"

“ The theory seems tenable."

“ Ha!" satisfiedly; “ that is just what I have
been wanting on to admit.”

“ Why so? hat is it that you propose for
me to do?”

“ Can’t you understand? The Markhams must
be acquainted with my change of heart, or we
will say change of procedure, with respect to
them forthwith.”

“ They won't believe it,” said the detective,
in his blunt way. “ That is the long and short
of that.”

“ Humph! but you believe me sincere in this,
don‘t you?”

“ I’ll ive you frankness for frankness, Mr.
Goldkir . I neither believe nor disbelieve in
you. I am content to await the test of time
and events.”

“ Well, sir, that is all I ask. But now I want
ty’gm to go directto the Markhams, and endeavor

get back those letters for me.”
“ I‘ll go, as a matter of course. But you can
depend upon it they will demand some guaran-
tee in return—supposing the letters to be in
their possession. ”
“ Naturally. What sort of guarantee do you
suppose they will demand?”
‘ How should I know any better than your-
self ,or even so well? I haven’t even the pleasure
of their acquaintance.”
-“ I had forgotten that. Well, you must make
them a preliminary visit, and see just what can
be done.”
This was just the sort of commission that
Old Grip most desired, inasmuch as it would
effectually introduce him to the young couple,
whose personal acquaintance he was, for obvi-
ous reasons, anxious to make.
“ All right!” he replied. “ When shall I go?”
“ With the least possible delay.”
“So be it. I shall run up to their Whip-
rwill retreat to-morrow and, if possible,
back with my report in e evening.”
“ Just the thing! So I may regard t at point
unsettled?“
“ You may.”
” Now there is another thing,” said the
banker, with a good deal of hesitation, not to
say embarrassment
‘ I am at your service, sir.”
“ Do on know anything about a certain
Count ontalbert?”
“ A little. Latterly a conspicuous man-about-
town, 1 understand. ’ .
“ The same. Have you seen or met the gem-
tlemani” .
“I saw him for the first time in your ball-
way this morning. He was entering as I was
leaving.”
“ True; I remember now. But never before?”
‘ with a keen look.
“ Never, to my knowledge,” promptly; and it
did not occur to the banker to ask if the detec-
tive had seen him since. .
“ Ha!” and Mr. Goldkirk drew along breath,
which was something like a sigh; “I am sorry
for that."
“ Why?” asked the detective.
, “ Well, I was in hopes you might tell me some-

thing about the man. Look here, Crimminsl”
impulsively, “I’ll be no less frank with you in
this matter than in the other.”

    

 

The detective nodded encouragingly.

“My daughter,” continued the banker, “is,
as you may have surmised, inclined to be ro-
mantic.

“ Well, this Count Montalbert, after being flt-
tingly introduced, has visited her, with my re-
luctant consent, for some time past.

“To tell the truth, he wants to marry her,
while I have reason to believe that he has 8.1-
read engaged her affections.

“ ow, I never went much on counts, or indi-
viduals of that ilk, and I strongly suspect this
particular count of being a fraud.”

“It sometimes happens that they are no
’count," said Old Grip, smiling.

“ Exactly; and that is just what I want you
to find out for me in the present instance."

“ I‘ll look him up.”

“ You noted the man this morning?”

“ Yes,though somewhat cursorily, as a matter
of course.”

“ Still, you have a faculty of judging a. man’s
character at a glance."

“ Sometimes. ’

“ Well, from the glimpse of him that you had,
how did the entleman mpress you?"

“ It was on y a glimpse, you must remember."

“ Good enough! a glimpse with you is equiv-
alent to an hour’s study With an ordinary man.”

“ You compliment me too highly.”

“ Not at all. Now, I want you to say, from
all that you can think and conjecture at the
present moment, whether or not you consider
that man a fit man to pay court to my daugh-
ter, and receive my paternal countenance in so
doing.”

The detective was in the quandary which he
had hoped to escape.

His temporary promise to “ Montalbert" en-
gaged him to a strict neutrality (“hands-0&1”)
in the premises for the time being; while his
subsequent convention with his wife, just as in-
dubitably prompted him to let the truth be
known as to the adventurer’s true character
forthwith.

Nothing was left him but to be absolutely
non-committal.

“ You are really asking too much of me, Mr.
Goldkirk,” he replied, with a look of annoyance.
“ Assuming that my acquaintance even with
the gentleman’s personal appearance is almost
m‘l, you can’t expect an intelligent reply to
your query. I must have time, especially in
such a case as this. ”

The banker gave another sigh, this time an
unmistakable one.

Unworthyas he mi ht be, there was no doubt-
ing his idolization 0 his child, or the sincerity
of his anxiety for her future.

“ I suppose you are ri ht,” he said. “But
you will really find out 8. out the man for me,
and at your earliest?”

“ I shall do so.”

“ That is all, then, for the present, I believe,
Crimmins. I shall look for your report as to
that other matter to—morrow evening.”

“ Here?”

“ Why not? It won’t matter now, since there
is no longer any dissimulation between us. Will
you,”with a smile, “ rejoin my innocent form
of relaxation?”

“ No, thanks. This door, I perceive, leads
girfictly into the hall. Good-night, Mr. Gold-

ir .

As the detective stepped upon the elevator,
without deigning any response to the grinning
look of inquiry on the part of the colored colos-
sus, there was a fresh and more uproarious burst
of music and approbation from behind the fold-
ing-doors, as an indication that the Mr. Hyde
part of the Goldkirk duality had rejoined his
satellites with fresh zest and fervor.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
PROS AND cons.

RETURNING home before midnight, to find
Luella dutiful]; sitting up for him, Old Grip
lost no time in escribing his visit to her.

“It seems to have been your day for sur-
prises,” was the young wife’s first thou htful
comment upon what he had to tell. “ ut, of
course, you can take no real stock in this gush-
ing and extraordinary change of tactics on the
part of the bank president?”

“ Not much.”

“I might have known that. That man is as
deep as he is dangerous—and foul. His ordi-
nary hypocrisy was just wasted upon you—he
saw that at last; so he merely r laced it with
this seeming devil-may-care can or as his next
best ame. Not a bad idea either; and I confess
that have a higher notion of his cleverness than
before.”

“ That is just the way I look at it. Besides, in
this new aspect he is much more agreeable and
companionable than before.”

“And yet the shamelessness of this man’s
secret excesses i. It is absolutely revolting.”

“My dear, we have read and admired Mr.
Robert Louis Stevenson’s fantastic novel to-
gether.” ‘

“Oh, I know, I know! Mr. Hyde and Dr.
Jekyll! But an orgie such as this X”

“My dear wifey,Goldkirk’s case is not an
isolated one, among our mulled magn’ates.”

I \

 

“ No matter. What do you suppose is Gold—-
kirk’s real object in these new tactics?”

“ Haven’t an idea as yet, and can only be
generally on my guard, though I suspect some
fresh design against the Markhams."

“ Just my inference. And you will go up in
Westchester in search of them to-morrowi”

“ Certainly.”

“ With me?”

“ That depends."

“ Indeed! and what does it particularly de- :

pend on i”

“ Well, perhaps on nothing so very particu-
lar. ”I suppose you can go along, you in‘quis~
itor!

“ You dear old boy!”

“ Of course 1"

“ And what about this Montalberti”

“ Well, it is possible that I may get a new
wrinkle or two With regard to him from the-
Markhams.”

“ Ah! very likely."

“ Though it is probable Ishall seek that prom—a
ised interview with him at his den to-morrow
night.”

“ Ah ! his den? Heaven grant it may not be an
imitation of Mr. Bank President Goldkirk’s!”

“ Why 9"

“ Well,” with a laugh, “ I don't know about

trusting you in that sort of company as asteady
thin .
“ 'Fhe deuce! as if you weren’t time and again;
familiar with men’s spi‘eeing-hahits—and some
women’s, too, for that matter, in our old circus
days! when, if the truth Were told, I might have
first fallen in love with your bewitchin shape
in that tiger-taming jungle act of yours. ’

Blushing as ruddin as in their honeymoon.
period, Luella’s hand over his lips nipped the
reminiscence in the bud.

“ Well, well,” continued Old Grip, apologetic»
ally, “perhaps we might as well go to bed at
once, to save further discussion, if the sun is
not destined to rise on an unfinished dispute.”

And to bed they accordingly went.

At the early breakfast next morning Old
Grip surprised Master Cheese-it by appearing in
his countryman’s disguise, in which he had re-
solved to seek the contem lated interview with
Maud Markham—and wit her husband also, if
practicable—in Luella’s company.

He explained the situation, and then said:

“ By the way, Cheese-it, perhaps there is no
use in your keegng up your farce of an em-
ployment at the tan Steam Laundry any more.
though it may be that you are the best judge of
that.

“ What’s the matter with the trick, boss?”
Cheese-it asked, in no little surprise.

The detective then hurriedly described Mont-
albert's visit and disclosures, adding:

“ You perceive that by this time, if not much-
earlier than now, that sharp-eyed forewoman,
Mrs. Griscom, must be as thoroughly convers-
ant with our identity as Montalbert, or Mares-
by, himself.”

“ I don’t know about that, boss,” said the boy
thoughtfully scratching his head as he finished
his last cup of coffee. “ If she had tumbled to it
already, she would have fired the in short order-
Don’t you think so?”

“ Not necessarily. That Montalbert—Moresby
would have lost no time in informing her of the
trick after his discovery of it-on the very eve-
ning of our actin it, according to his own de—

.claration, which see no reason to doubt—would

seem most probable. Then she might have her
own reasons for hoodwinking us into the belief
that she had no sgyicion of our double-acting.”

Chesse—it nodd , and then he looked up:

bri htly.

“gWould she, thou h, boss," he exclaimed,
“ after learning of ontalbert’s self-exposure
.9 you? That, you know, would render even
their further duplicity in the matter of no more!
avail.”

“ True, true!” admitted the detective, frown-

in .

inella laughed.

“The complication is becoming a regular in-
tricacy of wheels within wheels,” she cried.
“Perhaps, Edward Cheeseit had better con-
tinue on at the laundry, for to—day at least, just
as if he, at all events, were none the wiser for'
all these things. Something might come of it,.
you know.”

It was accordingly so decided, and, shortly
after the boy had set out for his new employ-
ment, Nelly was left in charge of the flat, whi e

Crimmins and his wife started for the Grand. '

Central Depét.

Luella, who was always a tasteful and stylish
dresser, could not help feeling somewhat em-
barrassed by the striking contrast she afforded.
on the street to her husband in his hayseed char-
acter.

“You’ll ‘frobably be taken for my coun
cousin—an very country at that,” she sai ,
laughin .; t

“ An why not for your country grandfather ’i”‘
sug ested Old Grip, gravely.

“ ell, I sha’n’t agpear ashamed of you, at
all events. So don’t e worried on that score.”

“ Oh I’m not worrying at all! Hayseed;
never o—except perhaps when they fall afoul
of the police, or the bunco steerers. But, don‘t;

 

 

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

13

 

forget that I’m just our ‘ Tummas’—plain
Thomas Cook—for the time being.”

“ I’ll try to remember. What will Mrs. Maud
Markham think of the contrastI present to you?
That is what troubles me the most.”

“It needn’t at all. It Will probably be but a
few minutes—though that will depend on cir-
cumstances—before I shall have occasion to de-
clare my true character to her. Then all will
he plain. ”

‘ Why should you not have come Without any
disguise whatever, then?"

“ To set her to flight at the first glimpse of
me, Betchance?”

‘ h, yes!”

“ Besides, do you forget that, in Mrs. Mark-
ham’s estimation, I am still somewhere in the
depths of that bottomless iit of the mountain
gorge, into which the Wild ‘noemaker of Whip-

oorwyill was so certain he had hurled me head~
ong?

“ Ah! I had forgotten that," with a remi-
niscent little shudder.

“ Why did you buy tickets for Pleasantvillel”
she presently asked when they had taken seats
in the train.

“It is but two miles this side of Chappaqua.
the nearer station forthe Whippoorwill region,”
he explained. “ But I made some village ac-

quaintances there while 1playing milk-hand for
‘the old cow-farmer bac in the hills, whom it
mi ht not be altogether convenient tomeet with
Sue a dashing companion as yourself."

t‘  l”

Arriving at Pleasantville, a Villa 9 thirty
miles northaway, which does not benefits name,

a serviceable equipage was obtained at the liv-
cry-stable, and they set out on their drive to the
haunted farmhouse, four or five miles back in

‘the wildand picturesque country to the northeast.

The greater part of the drive was over good
roads, and very agreeable.

A touch or two of frost had hastened the rich
October tintings of the woods, the air was brac-
ing without being cold, and the farms which
they passed, thrifty-appearing and well-kept
for the most part, were pleasant to look upon.

But,after turnin up into the rugged,up-and-
down, break-neck hippoorwill road, the case
was considerably different.

“ Dear me!" exclaimed Luella, at last, after
being tossed now against her husband, and then
against her side of the buggy—bars, with many
a mist and jerk. “ What abominable roads for
such a short distance from New York City!”

” A standing shame to trio communities con-
tenting themselves with the like!” assented Old
Grip; “ but it will soon be over; we are not far
from our destination now.”

The Haunted House had just come in sight
when Luella uttered a startled exclamation as a
wild and curious, flgure suddenly stepped out
gem a wayside thicket and curiously regarded

em. '

 

CHAPTER XIX.
MAUDE MARKHAM.

“DON’T be alarmed,” cautioned Old Grip, in
a low voice. “ It is only the Wild Shoemaker of
Whippoorwill. ”

Nevertheless, there was something so formid-
able and.uncanny in the hermit’s personality
that Luella could but gaze at him with some-
thing of a shudder, and yet not without a cer-
tain fascination.

In his former sojourn in the neighborhood the
detective had encountered the strange recluse
several times (to say nothing of his memorable
encounter with him in his true detective charac-
ter) though without taking the trouble to accost
him.

But now so strangely earnest and eager
seemed the man's attitude that it occurred to
him to address some words to him, and he ulled
up with that intention, at which act the ermit
suddenly recoiled a pace or two, waving his
hands wildly, and with his eyesriveted burning-
ly u n the pretended countryman’s face.

“ ack, back to the shadows !” hecried, hoarse-
lfi. “ It is not permitted. Back, back to your
s adows, I say!”

The detective at once burst into a loud “ Haw,
haw!"

“ .What on talkin’ ’bout, Moses?” he demand-
ed, in his road rustic accent. “ Back to my
shadders, eh? Why, I ain’t got no shadders to
go back to as I knows on. Come, Moses, be
reavonable and civil, can’t yei What d’ye
carry that ’ere long three-pronged stick fur,
fur instance? and what you got in that old
hand-bag?”

Something like a troubled doubt seemed to
come into the strange man’s weird face, though

its first dread or suspiciousuess still remained .

there. .
Still hardly diverting the direction of his
startled gaze, he thrust a hand into a large

canvas bag or haversack at his side, and pro-

duced therefrom snake after snake, singly and
by the handful. x.
The reptiles were, moreover, alive and with
in , though apparently harmless.
uella. was still too much of a circus woman

to be more than moderately horrified by the

le, which was nevertheless neither agree-

:a le nor edlfying.

“ Do drive on!” she whispered to her hus-
band. “ Remember your former encounter
with this crazy giant. Besides, there is a wo-
man—probably Mrs. Markham herself—observ-
ing us from one of the windows of the old house
yonder.”

“In a moment! in a moment!” he replied.
“ I want merely to see what the queer old
codger here is driving at.”

The Hermit had thrust back the snakes into
the sack, and was menacingly waving toward
the detective the long forked stick with which
it was his practice to pin them by the neck to
the rocks while extracting their poisonous
fangs.

“ Back!" he hoarser cried again; “ back to
your shadows! The dead are dead, and, if not
of the elect, eternally damned are they! Thus
it is written. Back to your shadows, back to
your fire-crypt, back to your yawnin gulf!”

“ Ohol” muttered Old Grip, now eginning
to understand; “why didn’t I think of it at

rs .

The Wild Shoemaker suddenly produced his
stencils and mai'kin materials.

A hu 6 flat-fac rock, jutting out of the
woods c ose at hand, presented its broadside to
the road.

Upon this he swiftly stenciled the in unction,
“ Rrrsnr on BE Diurnal)!” after whic , with a

arting gesticulation of his long, ape-like arms,
he lunged into the wood and disappeared.

‘ What was it you hadn’t thought of at first?”
asked Luella, as her husband started up the
horse.

“ The old fellow’s significance in ordering me
back to the shadows, and all that rot."

“ What was his significance?”

“ Don’t you see? He doubtless penetrated
my disguise with a first glance of t ose crazy
but shrewd old eyes of his, and couldn’t under-
stand my not still bein in the gorge-pit into
which he was so certain e had flung me.”

“ Oh, indeed! But what an utterly forlorn-
looking old lace !” for they had now drawn up
before the aunted House.

The door opened almost immediately, and
Mrs. Markham made her appearance.

She approached the‘ wagon, looking much as
upon the former occasion, very shabby in her
cheaE, dark dress, but without the shawl about
her sad and face, whose striking brunette
beauty was thus made apparent at once.

She nodded t0ward the pretended country-
man, but looked curiously askance at his hand-
some and fashionably-attired companion, while
Luella was natural y more or less embar—
rassed.

“ Glad you recognize me, ma’m,” said the de-
tective, with his broadest and most countrifled
grin. “ I'm Thomas Cook, you know, what tuk
theletter fur you? Got the money fur it, too—
more even than you promised. Haw, haw, haw!
This leddy is a friend of mine, ma’m. An’ I’ve
got a bang-up message for you into the bargain,
ma'm. Any place whar a feller whose eddyca-
tion’s been neglected c’u’d tie up fur a bit?”

Maud pointed to the weed-grown driveway
and the ramshackle barn at its upper end. and
then Luella alighted, while her husband drove
up to stable his horse.

The two beautiful women, perfect strangers
to each other up to this moment, stood there
mutely exchanging looks.

Then something in the sweet but 'ef—worn
dark face of the housedweller seem to draw
Luella like a magnet, and, going straight up to
her with moistened eyes she kissed her.

“ Who are on i” asked Maud, her face soften-
ing, yet reta ning something of its suspicious,
war look.

“ ear madam !” replied Luella, impulsively;
“I am merely one who would like to be your
friend.” .

“ But a lady, so lovely, so fashionable, and in
company with that coarse-grained hobbledehoyl
I (can‘t understand.”

Luella flushed a little and then smiled athear-
ing her disguised husband thus uncomplmenta—
rily characterized.

“ You sha'n‘t be mystified long,” she replied,
laughing. “Mayn’t I go into the house with
you?”

The smile and laugh seemed to have finally
dissipated Maud’s apprehensions, for she smiled
in return, and then, with a gesture, turned with
i, her companion toward the house.

“ It is a poor enough place to offer the he i-
tality of,” she said, when they had enteredpa
large, low-coiled front room whose furniture was
extremely old-fashioned and plain, though still
substantial. “ But I was born here, as were my
, father and several of his forefathers before him,
1 which makes it still somewhat homelike to me,
i miserably ruinous as it is. May I ask you to
i take off your things?”
| Luellu accepted the invitation,notvery heart~
ily urged, and at this juncture “Thomas Cook”
reg'oined them.

‘ Dear, clear!” he exclaimed, standin in the
middle of the floor, hat in hand, gripsac at his
feet, and taking in his surroundings with gap-
ing interest. “An’so I’m inside this house at
last. Who’d ’a’ thunk it? Is it really ha’nted,
ma'mi” lowering his voice.

 

 

“ You delivered my letter, then i” demanded
Mrs. Markham,a little impatiently.

“ Oh, yes’uml that was all right.”

And the pretended countryman went on to re-
count the affair at no little length.

" You spoke of having a message for mo!" at
last interrupted the young woman, even more
peremptorin than before.

“Yes sirree!” cried “Thomas Cook ” sudden- -
7

ly eying her with a changing look. “ hat’s the
password, ma’in. A message, you kin bet!”

“Who is it from?”

“From a man whom you have doubtless little
reason to like, and much to fear madam."

She started, dismayed at the unexpected
change in his tone and caring.

“ From whom do you bring me a message?”
she exclaimed.

“ From—Mr. Bank President Goldkirki”

The young woman recoiled, glaring at him. '

Then her amazement was completed by his
suddenly divesting himself of his rustic habili-
ments,and standin forth in his true character.

Maud’s startled ook, however, was quickly
replaced by a stern and menacing one, and she
even made a slight movement as if to produce a
wea on.

“ o, I have been tricked from the first?” she
said, hau htily.

“ Mrs. arkham, it is true," replied the de-
tective, earnestly. “ But I am here now in my
own character as your friend. ”

A disdainful gesture.

“ Who and what are you?”

“ Edward Crimmins, otherwise Old Grip, the
Detective.”

A furiously resentful look partly gave way to
one of doubt and wonder.

“ It cannot be!” she faltered. ” That man—
that accursed,heartlesssleuth—hound was hurled
into the bottomless pit of the Devil’s Ger 9
only day before yesterday by my eccent c
brother."

Old Grip briefly explained his escape in that
instance.

‘ ‘ Who and what' is this lady?” was the bewil~
dered woman’s next query.

Luella sympathetically threw her arms about
her and answered for herself.

CHAPTER XX.
MAKING FRIENDS.
“DEAR Madam!” exclaimed the detective’s
beautiful consort, earnestly; ” this man, whom

on so little understand, is my husband, and he
has brought me with him to this lace that I
may help him to become our rieud—your
friend in need no less than he friend of our
fugitiye and innocent husband, Claude ark—
ham.

“ Is it true, ma’am.” sup lamented Old Gri
in the voice and manner w ich he knew so we
how to render sympathetic and gentle.

But Maud Markham could not or would not
understand just yet.

“ It cannot be—it is impossible!” she ex-
claimed. “Old Grip—the remorseless sleuth-
hound of the law— he who has vaunted that he
would be m fugitive husband’s Nemesis—you?
It cannot e that you would become our
friend!”

“ Be seated, ma’am ” interposed the detective,
kindly, “and 1 think can convinceyouof our
error, though it will be something of a on
story.” He set out for her, as he spoke, one o
the old-time high-backed chairs, while standing
in readiness to occupy another himself when she
should deign to be seated. “ And as to that
Nemesis business, you haven’t got it ve ex-
act,” smilinglv. “It was as the bank—rob rs'
Nemesis thatI vaunted I should become-cer-
tainly not that of an unfortunate fugitive of
Whose innocence of crimoI am no less convinced
than yourself.”

The last words. together with their unmistak-
able sincerity ot utterance, were not without
their effect.

“ You—you are sure that—that I can trust
you?" Maud faltered.

“ 0h, Mrs. Markham, I know you can!” cried
out Luella. “I will answer for my husband’s
truth and honor l”

 

Maud sunk into the proffered chair without

further hesitation.

. Then and there, and with 9. gm hic eloquence
that was peculiarly his own, 0! Grip poured
out for her information the entire history of his
connection with the case from the beginning to
the end. .

It was some moments after he had finished be-
fore Maud seemed to thoroughly digest the
complicated disclosures of the strange story,
and then she said:

“ All this is very unexpected and not a little
bewildering to me, as a matter of Course. Of
this, though, I am morally, absolutely certain:
Mr. Clifford Goldkirk is just as much of evil-
lain as ever, in spite of what he may now pro-
fess, and he will never be anything. else.”

“I agree with you perfect] ," cried the do-
tective, “ a Bso does my wi e.”

“ And no , I understand, you come to me
from him with a proposal for the return of
those letters!”

“ That is what he thinks I am here for.”

“ Well, we will assume the bonafide  x

 

Old Gripis Still iiunt.

 

 

of your messengership, Mr. Crimmins.

assumption, what then is it the scoundrel'

would propose?”

“ He doesn’t make any propos1tion,” with a
smile. “ He leaves that to you.”

“ Ali, indeed!”

“Yes; he commissions me to offer on his part
any guarantee that shall be demanded by Mr.
Claude Markham and yourself.”

“ Guarantees!”bitterly. “ And what depen-

dence, sir. would you place on any that such a i

man might make?”

“Not a cent’s worth,” promptly. “ And yet
there would be a way to test his sincerity to the
full—to put the touchstone to his faith, as
Shakespeare has it.”

“ What way ?” ’

“ By touching his pocketbook,” with his char-
acteristic bluntness—“ bleeding him outright,
and to the tune of thousands.”

Maud Markham’s black eyes flashed.

“Thank you!” she said, ironicall . “We are
poor, but we are not blackinailers. ’

“ it isn’t blackmail—nothing could make it
so!” cried the detective, earnest! . “Why, the
letters were yours before he sto e them first—
are still your own property, no matter by what
means you might have become repossessed of
them!”

“ That is true,” with less severity.

“The man would be justly in yourqower,”
continued Old Grip, still more urgently. “If
he is in your power again, after once'wriggling
out of it by the hassst and meanest of felonies,
so much the worse for him! What misery and
degradation has not the cowardlyhound heaped
upon you and yours! Pay him back in his own
coin—or, still better, in simple, justifiable re.
prisalnand bleed him to the quick! Thousands,
did I say? It should be worth tens of thousands
tpgou !’

is sympathetic vehemeuce had apparently
banished the last vestige of her reproval, but
she still shook her head.

“ Such spiteful and mercenary men as Gold-
kirk,” the detective went on, “ can only be
wounded in their pocketbooks. It is almost
their sole vulnerable point. In any sort of
fight with them, you must stab them there, as
you would stab a worthier foeman in the cor-

oreal Vitals, or in his honor, or his prospects.

emand first a written and attested guarantee
that the man does not, cannot, and never has
meant to believe your husband guilty of a single
dishonest or unworthy act. Then so y in addi-
tion—this is merely an off-hand suggestion :—
‘Fifty thousand dollars for the return of the
letters. Otherwise, publication of their con-
tents within a week.’ Or you can leave off the
threateng alternative, if you choose. But it
would be in advice to let him have it hot-
shotted, and in the bull’s—eye.”

“That is it!” cried Luella, enthusiastically.
“Mrs. Markham, all the fairness and honesty
in the world would back you in such a course.
None better could be advised.”

Maud Markham turned, with a grave smile.
to the beautiful blonde speaker, whose face and
manner were so prettin animated.

“ Putting yourself in my lace, Mrs. Crim-
mins,” she abruptly asked, ‘ s it a course that
you. would adopt?’

“ Unhesitatingly !” was the gompt reply.

Then Maud looked at them th with a half-
oomical expression.

“I begin to feel,” she said, interrogatively,
"that I can trust yon—implicitly!"

Their frank answering looks were a sufllcient
assent to the query.

“ All this talk, ’ continued Maud. “ of bar-
gaining with me or my husband for the return
of those stolen papers, is just so much thrown
awa .”

u by,"

“ Simply because they are not in our
idea, and we don’t know where the are.’

Then Luella’s countenance fell, w ile Old Grip
burst into a laugh.

“True,” said 6. “In pleading the banker’s
theorv I lost sight of that.”

“What!” said Mrs. Markham, “you did not
believe us to have them!”

“Certainly not' I have contended with him
to the contrary all along. Besides, have you so
soon forgotten my interview with Momby—
Montalbert, as I recounted it to youi” ,

“ Ah, yes; of course,” and Maud’s face to-
sumed its troubled look. “And Mr. Moresby
a ured you that he could obtain those letters

0856!-

_w on he chose?”

“ Not quite; but that he could lay his hand at
will on the bank—robber, who presumably has
them in his possession.” -

“Much the same thing! Then,” coufldently,
“he will obtain them fr r us. "

“ I doubt it. You seem, indeed, Mrs. Mark-
ham, to have a belief in this adventurer’s unself-
ishness that I altogether fail to com rehend.”

“ It is very remarkable to me, too, ’ interposed
Luella. -

“Listen, my friends,” said Mrs. Markham,
after a long pause. “Much I knew, or
thought I knew, about that ange being,
Moresby, or by whatever name a may choose
to be known what you have told me of his self-
declared evil character and antecedéutstroubles

, I

!

 

Claude even more than me.

“Bad and unprincipled, in a general way, as
we may have suspected him of being, he has
been our steadfast friend in misfortune, our ad-
viser, our good genius, as we might say.

“But for him, my husband—but,’ with a

In this , me greatly, and will trouble and bewilder poor 1

Presently a roughly-attired but gracefully-

! appearing young man came slowly down the

pained look, “I cannot go into Claude’s faults i

and madnesses and temptations with you.

“ I will merelysay this that he has been finally ,‘
rescued out of them almost who]! —perhaps ‘

apart from such wifely influence as may have
been able to exert to the same end—through
that man’s brotherly or fatherly counsel, assist-
ance and support.
more to say, and I sha’n’t try.”

“ Do not,” said Old Grip, gently. “But let
me suggest one thing. Were it not better for
me to know your husband personally, and for
him to (partiCi pate in this interview?”

Mau
turning phantom of herlong—nourished vigilance
and caution—and then she rose abruptly.

“ Yes,” she said; “ I shall trust you in all, or
nothing. Wait here, please.”

She quittcd the room, and from a sidewindow
in the room they could see her approach the foot
of the crag toward the rear of the house-
grounds, with a swift but cautious step and a
manner watchful and alert.

Then she suddenly raised her voice in a wild
and melodious cry, somethin like the jodel of
the Tyrolese mountaineers, w ich went echoing
and reéchoing among rocks and crannies of the
wooded hi ht, further and further away, until
gradually 0st in the remoteness.

To Luella, especial] , who was very fond of
poetry,the musical,fu l-toned cry and its flying
echoes were very suggestive.

At all events, she found herself repeating in
a rapt undertone the two opening stanzas of
Tennyson’s famous “ Bugle Song :”

“ 0h, hark, oh, hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, further going!
Oh, swaet and far from clifi' and sear
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Below, li-t us hear the purple glens replying:
Blow, bugle! answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying!

“ Oh, love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on bill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying.
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying!"

Scarcely, however, had the woman’sjodel cry
died away, before there was a human response
from somewhere for up among the crags.

Then a gigantic but active figure made its ap-
pearance, s ringing down the rugged path and
a moment ater the Wild Shoemaker of Whip-
poorwill was at her side.

CHAPTER XXI.
THE FUGITIVE.

As the Hermit came to a submissive pause be-
fore his sister he, seemingly without opening
his lips, emitted several sharp sounds that were
in exact imitation of the cry of the whippoor-
will, or great American goat—sucker, when sud-
denly swooping groundward in its evening beetle

uest.
q Maud seemed to be giving him some direc-
tions, which he interrupted With strange gestic-
ulations, apparently in astonishment or pro-

Then, with a final bird-call, he dashed back
up the path with a loping ease and speed sug-
estive of thephantasmagoric monster in Lady
helley’s weird novel of Frankenstein, and
quic‘kéy disappeared among the wild rocks.
“ hat an extraordinary creature!” said
Luella. “ But what are you doing, or trying to
do Edward 9”

The latterwas essayin a series of gulping,
scarce! audible sounds be ind his tightly-com—
presse lips.

“ Nothing much—onl t ng to catch that
whippoorwul trick of t e ermit‘s," he vouch-
safed to open his lips long enough to answer.
“ There 1" with a fresh attem t; I almost caught
it that time. But I’ll succee yet.”

“ What for?” laughing.

“ 0h!” desisting altogether at last. with an
echo of her laugh; “eve thin is worth know-
ing, my dear; and something to Is me that I may
yet have some more private dealings with that
some Wild Shoemaker."

” Not again in the neighborhood of the Devil’s
Gor e, or any other ‘ bottomless pit,’ I hope.”

“ atch abird twice with the same pinch of
salt for his tail! I’ll look out for that, little
wom an.”

“ What is the man’s real name!”

“ Moses Crust!”

“ Crust! Then he is really Mrs. Markham’s
brother?”

“ Or half-brother, or somethin

 

of the sort.

There is some sort of romance, 1 elieve, in t e,

lady’s earlier life and antecedents. What 0
you think of her?”

“I like her greatly, and feel that I might
come to love her. But see; her fugitive must be
near at hand.”

Maud, who had remained patiently at the
foot of the era . was observed to look up ex-
pectantly along e path.

I—well, I don’t know what i

l
l
l
l
l
l
!

mountain, casting suspiciously-inquiring looks
toward the old house.

The discussion, bowevc-r,‘ between fugitive.
husband and devoted wife was but brief before
they entered together.

“ Mr. Crimmns,” said Claude Markham, very
gravely, while taking the detective’s heartily
extended hand, after bowing profoundly to
Luella, “the possibility of this friendly meet-
ing with you could never have occurred tome
until now. Your reputation had gone before
you, and I had depicted you in my imagination
as a species of professional monster—something
like the proverbial Blueskin or Victor Hugo’s
Javert.”

He was a singularly handsome young man,
with a refined face, already betraying in its worn

' and hunted look the life of concealment and

 

seemed to heSitate~aB if With the I‘e- ! suspense which he had been leading, but also

with a suggestion of weakness or irresolution in
some of its iineaments.

The detective smiled engagingly. ’

“ Let me hope,” said he, “ that you will find
the reality less black than the picture of your
imagination.”

Then, the more readily to set the young man
at his case without delay, he briefly recounted
his varied story, as he had already done to the

W] 9.

Before he had quite finished, Maud arose, with
a housewifer look, and said she would have to
betake herself to the kitchen for some little.
time.

“ I know what you are going to do!” cried
Luella, startin up with her bright smile. “ You
are thinking 0% the wants of our inner man and
inner woman as the noon hour aggroaches.”

“ Well, what if I am f” said and, slightly
blushing. “ It is true I shall have but frugal
fare to offer, but-—”

“ But you shall offer nothing at all, unless I
assist you in preparing it. Come, now, my dear,
I will not take no for an answer. ’

And, linking her arm in that of the proprie—
tress of the Haunted House, Luella accompanied
her into the kitchen. ‘

A good fire was already at hand, and it turned
out that Maud’s larder was much better supplied
than mi ht have been anticipated.

The ce lar store—room contained a fairly ample
supply of provisions, though in no great vari-
ety, and there was a little spring-house near at
hand, with fresh milk and sweet new-made but-
ter and pot-cheese in abundance ; for,in addition
to a pony and chaise in the dilapidated barn,
there was a good cow contentedly chewing her
cud in a little pasture-lot adjoining, which had
not yet attracted the attention of the visitors.

“ And yet they call this the Haunted House I”
cried Luella, when she had made these discov-
eries, and was busying herself with the young
hostess in the preparation of a substantial re-

ast.
il'jiveness, I think it is just a grand, lovely old
place!" / .

“ You really think so i” said Maud, With is
pleased look.

“ Indeed, I do! Why do they call it haunted?”

“ Because it is lonel —and deserted, I sup

ose. What temporari y abandoned place won t'
have an uncanny reputation among -these coun—-
try boobies? Haunted? Yes,” With a lovmg:

glance around, “ with dear and sweet old mom--

ories. But that is all.”

“ How I should like to know something of
your early history,” said Luella, a little shyly.

“You would find it prosaic enough, I am
afraid.” ' .

“ i am sure there would be romance in it for
me, at least. There is plenty 3n mine, for that-
matter, and much that might even challenge.
your credulity.”

Maud lookedup from her employment with a.

flush of curiosit .

“Ahf”inquir1ngly; “ but then you were con—
nected with the stage, or something of that.
sort!”

“ With the show business."

And then Luella. forthwith, in a graphic and
highly entertaining way, gave her companion a.
brief running sketch of or picturesque ante-
marriage life and career, as they have been
familiarized to the reader of this series in the
“ Showman Detective."

“What a life,what a career, and what a.

wooing!" was Mrs. Markham’s commentary-
“ Dear friend, it seems all but incredible. I am
afraid my own little history must appear un—

eventful and colorless, indeed, in the light of’

such a comparison."

“Your turn,anyWay,” cried the detectivo’s:

wife, laughing. “So come now, and do not:

keep me waiting for what I have been angling,

for from the very start.”
“I was born here in this old house.” Mrs,
Markham straightway began. “ My father was:

a sailor—a sea—captain at the last—who was lost .

at sea before my birth. My mother’s death
followed within a year—very ikely of a broken
h

“ I became the charge of my father's parents
for this old place had been his family homestead
from the Indian-fl hting da 8.

“Dear, good ol couple! ow they loved me,

“Why, in spite of its tumble-downer

.5

 

01d Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

and with what willing tenderness they assumed
my rearing and education, as had been done
with my half—brother before me!

“ He was so many years older than I that 1
can only remember him as a grown man. You

see, my father was middle-aged at the time of v

his marriage With my mother, who was barely
in her twenties; and Moses was the issue of a
former marriage.

“My grandparents were fairly well-to-do
farm folks, their farm having originally in-

cluded several hundred acres of the finest land ‘

hei'eabouts.

“ But my coming among them seemed to bring

ill-fortune with it. At all events, the bad luck
came.
“ hen I was still a mere child, my grand-
father’s only near relative, a younger brother in
commercial ventures in New York, succumbed
to business disaster, failing for a heavy amount,
and wound up a series of misfortunes by taking
his own life.”

 

CHAPTER XXII.
A SIMPLE, SAD HISTORY.

“ HIS brother’s sad fate,” continued Mrs.
Markham, “ was a blow to my poor grand—
father, Ichabod Crust, in more ways than one.

“ He had indorsed the suicide’s business paper
to such a great amount that the meeting of the
liabilit swept away the greater and best part
of the arm-lands.

“ Little or nothing was left but this old house
and the thirty or forty all but barren acres
along the foot of these wild crags and up among
the crags themselves.

“However, he had still managed to secure
some of his savings, and these the old couple de-
termined to devote exclusively to my educa-
tion, in order that I might have a chance in the
world when they were gone.

“ How they must have stinted and slaved to
make the wretched remnants of the farm supply
their needs to this end!

“Though but little more than twelve years
old at the time of this change in our fortunes,
I well recall my gradual apprecmtion of the
hardness of it all, without thoroughly under-
standing it.

“ And this is an illustration of the thought-
lessness of vouth, which may so often be mistak-
en for heartlessness or ingratitude.

“ In orderto conceal the truth from me, my
poor grandparents actually cultivated a reputa-
tion for miserliness, which gradually became
the impression of the entire community.

“ You see, we were Quakers from ’way back.
Such is the prevailing characteristic of farm-
people of that sect for solid and painstaking
thrift, no less than for honesty, that, notwith-
standing the misfortune that had overtaken my
grandfather, he was still supposed to have laid
away savings to a greht amount; and now his
meager, pinched change of living was come to
be deemed a sign of hoarding for the mere
hoarding’s sake.

“ Was it strange that I shared a false impres-
sion that was shared by so many, and which, as
I have said, the poor old couple were even glad
to make appear so, and solely for my sake?

“ Perhaps not, but now, when their pardon-
able deception—their heroic self-abnegation—
stands before me in its true, absolutely self-im-
molating light—I am hardly ever able to look
reflectively around me in these old rooms with-
out the tsars rushing to my eyes, a sense of re-
morse and sorrow to my heart.

“But, of course, I could not know then, but
continued going to school in the vicinity, while
mental] eploring, if not reprobating, the
crab miserliness that seemed to have sudden-
ly possessed the kind, good hearts, or flushing
with shame or anger as my rude school-associ-
ates might chance to taunt me with it in that
brutal though tlessness which is no less common
among iris than boys.

“ At ast I was packed of! toan expensive and
fashionable boarding-school—or Young Ladies’
College, as it had already gr0wn the custom to
designate such institutions.

“ But then that is the general American way
from beginnin to end-—to magnify everything
out of sense an reason. We sell town-lots be
fore. there are towns, our villages are often
‘ cities,’our shops ‘ emporiums,’our boarding-
lchools ‘ seminaries ’ or ‘ academies ’ and we no
longer lend or borrow money, but 3 negotiate a

oan.
“ I was fourteen when I went to ‘college,’
somewhat marveling at the expensiveness of the
school selected, no ess than at the really nice
wardrobe that was managed to be provided for
me out of my grandparen ’ stinginess, as I sup-
; though nevertheless, I loved them dear~
y in my thoug tless wa , and, if not altogether
a preciating their tour eyes and lip-tremors
agour first parting, It was a sad wrench to in
better nature to have to leave them, much as
had always longed to see something, of the great
bright world beyond our wild rock-valleys and
have an opportunity to strike out for myself.

“‘I was eighteen when 1 finally returned to
them, with my course finished, and no doubt
duly polished and improved perhaps td the full
extent that my coarse nature was capable of.

“ But the mask of loving hypocrisy could no

 

 

longer be retained, and a fresh misfortune had
come upon the homestead during my last year
of absence.

“Moses, my half-brother, whom I had al-
ways vaguely understood to be somewhat ec-
centric, though very talented, had returned
abruptly from a long series of mysterious wan-
derings in a condition little better than that of
the harmlessly insane.

“He had taken his degree as a theological
graduate at Andover years before, and had

then disappeared, after a violent quarrel with '

the professors, by reason, I believe, of his er-
ratic interpretation of the Scriptures, which he
had come to know almost by heart, but for no
other purpose, it would seem, than to distort
their ineanin sas viewed through the crooked
lenses of his 0 outlet! understanding.

“After that, he had wandered over the coun-
try, no one could tell exactly how or whither.
It was rumored, however, that it was mostly
as a wayside preacher, and that he had by turns
affiliated with the Oneida Community, with the
Ohio Shakers, and perhaps with the Mormons,
too, for that matter, though he could. never have
been othcr than a rigidly moral man, and he is
so to t is day.

“ But there he was back upon the poor old
folks again, after a more or less continuous ab-
sence of more than twenty years, a middle-
aged fanatic, little better than a tramp, and
apparently with no means or intention of earn-
ing a living.

“ Still, his craze for snake-catching and
quotation-stenciling was already developed,
often taking him away from home for many
days at a time, and somehow or another he at
once manifested a strange-l servile and en-
grossing affection, or brother iness, for me.

“ But I was too troubled to much care at the
time whether he came or went, or what became
of him.

“The secret of the poor old folks’ poverty
was at last before me. The last penny of their
life’s savings had been expended upon my edu-
cation, and, though they still had the remnant
of the farm, they were too feeble to work the
miserable land any longer to advantage, and
too cor to hire the necessary help to that end.

“ did not waste my time in useless self-
reproaches, but set myself at once to the task
of securing work, with the intention of con-
tributing to the comfort of their remaining
honorable and forlorn years.

“ Through the interest of several of my for-
mer school-friends, I was soon so fortunate as
to obtain a fairly-paying situation as governess
 a wealthy and amiable family in Peeks-

l .

“ For two years thereafter I worked like a
slave. By perseveringa plication in such scant
leisure hours as were a oriled me, I developed
something of a literary talent in the way of
juvenile story-writing. Some of my sketches
were accepted by the periodicals and liberally
paid for. I kept at it, and at the end of those
two years was earning three or four hundred
dollars per annum in this way, in addition to
my wages as governess, which amounted to
three hundred more.

“ Everything beyond my actual expenses went
to the dear, good old couple at home, and it was
the joy of my life, notwithstanding the hard
work and close, wearing application that it cost
me, to know that I was really supplying them
with some restoration of the ease and comfort
wisich they had so long and with such secret,
pathetic heroism foregone for my unworthy

as e.

“ Still,” passionately, and with the tears
springing into her beautiful eyes, “what was it
as a return? A bagatelle, a pitiful, contempti-
ble, tardy amends, and they already each with
a foot in the gravel"

Luella abru tly dropped the kitchen work im-
mediately in and, and crossing the floor, put
her arms gently about the narrator’s neck and
kissed her.

“ Nothing of the sort!” she exclaimed. “ Now,
my dear—Maud, you have been doing nothing
but belittling and depreciating yourself stead l ly
throughout this entire narrative. You ill'eaitn-
gether unjustto yourself, and I want no more
of it, or 1 shall positively have to decline hear-
ing you further, interesting as your story is in
itself, or—-—or to sit upon you forthwith l"

“ Ah, but the thought of it even now!” mur-
mured Maud. “It tortures me, my friend.
Every old familiar ob 'ect in these surroundings
seems to accuse me of eartlessness.”

“Nonsensel as if you could have known, or
could have been to blame, even had it been
otherwise! Your conscience is altogether over-
sensitive. Now go on with your sad story, like a
good. little brave and devoted woman, as you
are.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
TAKING COUNSEL.

" THERE remains but little more to tell of my
humble story,” resumed Maud, at last. “ Mis-
fortunessuddenlycame heaping upon me toward
the end of the second year of my Peekskill em-
ployment.

“In the first place. a message came saying

that my poor grandfather was an idenlystricken V

 

down by a paralytic stroke. He was over
ninety, and could scarcely be expected to long
survive the shock.

“ I arrived home to find that he had already
breathed his last,while poor grandma was help-
less in an adjoining room, from a similar stroke
on her own part, doubtless hastened by the
grief-shock upon her age-enfeehlcd f rnmc.

“ In a few hours she breathed her last in my
arms. Asthey had lived together in that which
seems, so had they passed away, undivided to
the last, unto that which is—the life which is
real in the eternities. And, in addition to being
orphaned, I was alone on earth.

“In this bitter hour, when I was kneeling be-
side my (lead, a harsh exclamation that was al—
most a laugh jarred upon my car.

“ It was from Moses, who had returned from
the retreat or cave-den which he had already
made for himself somewhere up amid the rocky
and woody hights.

“ I sprung to my feet and, forgetful of his
mental infirmity, turned upon him in a fury.

“ While a kind neighbor or two bad minis-
tered to the sulferers before my arrival, he had
skulked and roamed nseli-ssly about the place
shouting forth his hideous aphorisms, an
stenciling his ominous texts over the fences, the
barn—door, the back-std ip, and even on the walls
of the rooms themseivc-s, to the fright of the
watchers and perhaps the terror of the dying.

" In my rage—for at the time we were alone
with the dead—I heaped reproaches upon him.
It was a tonguelashing, us it is not inaptly
called, that I could not have been guilty of in
mv cooler, less bitter moments.

‘ He listened as if stunned at first. Then
with a wild gesture, together with a jumble of
confused tex' s, be rushed away, crying out that
he would never entir the house again.

“ He has kept his word, for which I am not
altogether sorry; though I shall never cease to
com assionate the man.

“ e was not even present at the double fune-
ral, which speedily followed.

“ But a few days thereafter, when, after dls~
posing of the live-stock and farming-tools for a
mere song, when I was sorrowfully closing up
the old house, preparatory to leavin it prac-
tically forever—for it was not a place t at could
be rented for more than a ittance~he re-
appeared there in the back yar , so contrite and
humbled that my heart went out to his forlorn-
ness afresh.

“ I spoke kindly, telling him what had been
done. By my grandfather’s will, the old lace
had been bequeathed to me, with the simp e in-
junction that I would charge myself With his
(Moses‘s) welfare to the bestof myability. 'There
had been no personaltyto speak of, even the fune-
ral expenses havin been borne out of the few
dollars I had been In oriously savin for a double
birthday present to those who ha been called
away. For by a strange coincidence their birth-
days were the samc, though my grandfather had
been some few years the elder. All this I tried
to explain to my unfortunate half-brother, and
probably to his suflicient comprehension, adding
that the place should continue as his home, if he
chose to make it such.

“ No. He was becomineg grateful, but he
would not again sleep under a human roof. He
would, however, consider the surrounding rocks
and woods—God’s undeflled temples, as he called
them—his abiding-place: and if I were ever in
trouble or despair I. must come to him, when his
prayers and divine inspirations should stand me
in good stead. Then he uttered atorrent of dis-
connected texts, seized my hand, kissed it, and
was one.

“ here is little more to tell. My pupil at the
Peekskill house had died suddenly of diphtheria,
and her bereaved parents were about to start for

Euro e.

“ Aliter that I filled the thankless position of
governess in several New York City situations,
till at last engaged by that infatuated man, Mr.
Goldkirk, for his young daughter.

“ I find that you are already aware of my
miserable experiences in that man’s employ-
ment.

“When thislast trouble came upon us,neoessitat-
i ng Claude’s flight and concealment, I remember-

"ed Moses's Earting injunction-Hind we came here.

Moses has one well by us. rough his assist-
ance my husband had been occu ying a cranny
far away up yonder in the big ts where I am
sure the most dili ent search would never have
unearthed him. renovated the old house, |
secured a horse and cow at a. bargain, and, while
keeping my secret to the best of my ability,
have managed to get along as you can see or
guess for yourself.

“ Every day I have carried provisions to my
husband's retreat, sternly insisting that he
should not visit me at the house or in any other
way ex as himself to the risk of detection. To-
day is is flrst descent from his eyrio since he
came in hiding. Crazy as Moses remains, he
has faithfully stood by us in this emergency.
My story is ended.” _

ythis time the meal was in readiness. and
when Markham and Old Grip came in tonartako
of it, as agreeableian understanding seemed to
have been established between them as between
their wives.

 

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

 

   

After dinner it was definitely decided that the
lia....:er was to be left in suspense as to whether
or not the missing letters were in Markham’s
p ssvssion, while everything was to be left in
u .utu. qua pendingthe detective’s next interview
With the adventurer Moresby, whose outcome
was to be reported to them, when further meas—
ures should be devised accordingly.

“ But here is the rub,” said the detective.
“You, my friends, I have no doubt, Wish to re—
tain your confidence in this man. accomplished
rogue as he has confessed himself to me, while
in all probability I shall at once incur his
enmity by refusing, flat-footedly. his proposition
with respect to his designs upon Miss Goldkirk’s
hand and fortune, as I have promised my Wife
to do.

“ Say rather," interposed Luella, with dig-
nity, " as your ordinary sense of manhood must
com e1 you to do.”

“ our amendment accepted,.my dear.”

Maud graveiynodded.

“As a matter of course, that is the only thing
to be thou ht of. Blanche Goldkirk was not a
lovable chi d, and is doubtless still less meritori-
ous as a young lady. But her innocence and un-
sopjhistication are to be protected at any haz-
ar .

“ I knew I could depend upon you to say that,
my dear,” said Luella, gently.

‘ Thank youi But,’ continued Mrs. Mark-
ham, slowly, “ Mr. Crimmins, much as we may
seem to have been beholden to Mr. Moresby, we
—-I think we can no longer regard him without
suspicion.” .

She looked inquirinr‘v at her husband as she
spoke.

“ fcoursei” Clauue responded. “The man
is a far deeper scoundrel than we had any idea
of. Our main object now must be to avoid his
enmity, or, at least, to avoid his making com-
mon cause with Goldkirk against us.”

“ That is just it!” exclaimed Old Grip with a
relieved air. “ Well,you will leave it all tome,
I suppose."

“ Ve shall trust in you implicitly, sir," re-
sponded Claude Markham, with a heartiness
that was indorsed by Maud’s looks. “We are
in your hands.”

“ Thank you for this confidence. Oh, if we
only really had those lettersl But tell me, my
friends: do you imagine that Moresby might be
the real bank-robber, and consequently the pres-
ent custodian of the correspondence?"

“I cannot say—but I don’t know what to
thi Elk—DOW i" replied Markham, hopelessly.
“ A ll my ideas about the man have been so rude-
l y upset !”

" 'J‘ell me, though, this: Do you know, or
can on think of any professional criminal or
suspicious character with whom he may have a
secret intimacy l”

Ciaudesuddenly looked up brightly.

“ Yes i” he exclaimed, eagerly ; “ cometo think
of it I do.”

“ nstance, if you please?"

“ A well—dressed, secretive sort of human
brute, whom I used to see him with occasional-
ly,land who always impressed me uncomfort-
ab .

“yWhat name does he 0 by l”

“ His owu perha s— atthew Peters."

The detective su denly started up.

. “ Hallo!” he exclaimed, “ Manchester Mat,by
Ju iterl”

hen he rubbed his hands contentedly.

“ Why, look you!” he explained. “ his may
be better news than we looked for.”

“ You know him?”

“ I should say sol An English expert and
American jail—breaker, supposed for these five
{Isms past to be somewhere in the bottom of the

udson. with a Sing Sing prison guard’s bullet
in his skull.

“ My friends, here is a piece of luck. The
man is alive and well, it seems, and this man is
Moresby ’s pal.

“ I haven’t a doubt but that they robbed the
Occidental together, though Mat—as treacher-
ous and cunning a rascal asever plied center-bit
—-mav well have outwitted him as to the corre-
spondence part of the plunder.

“ Look here; the man is now in my power, if
I once get word with him: and, should Moresby
essay to use him against us, he may find himself
handling a boomerang in an uncertain wind.”

Here there was heard the Wild Shoemaker’s
Whippoorwill signal, and Maud ran to the win-
dow, only to exclaiiii:

“ “by, here is Moses with a prisoner! And
dear moi Mr. Crimmins, it is the odd little fel-
low who helped you along at first with your
countryman‘s trick.”

This was true, and, as the Hermit refused to
enter the house, the entire party went out to
him, where he had Cheese-it well in hand, with
his hands tied behind his back,

“ Why, Cheese-it, what brought you here?”
demanded the detective.

“ A message, boss: and I’d have delivered it,
too, but for this old Yahoo pouncing upon me.”

“What news do you bring?”

“ The old gal, Mrs. Griscom. is sending a secret
agent up here to spy around.”

. “What! Moresby himselfl”

“ No."

 

“ Speak out! \Vho is her agent?”

“A chap we used to know for keeps, boss.”
“ His name?”

“ Manchester Mat. "

CHAPTER. XXIV.
A COUNTER-STROKE.

UPON being relieved of his bonds, though not
without a protest on the part of the Hermit in
the form of sundry Scriptural quotations,
Cheese—it told his stor in brief.

He had overheard Iis. Griscom secretly in-
structing the man Matthew Peters to lose no
time in visiting the Murkhams, and then had
himself lost none by hurrying away to the
Grand Central and availing himself of the 10:30
train just on the point of starting, so that he
was quite confident the woman’s messenger
would be compelled to wait for the one two
hours later. From Chappaqua he had made his
way on foot.

“ To what end,” asked the detective, “ did the
forewoman instruct the man to come here?”

“I could only overhear a few words, boss,"
was the reply. “ But I heard your name men-
tioned, and shouldn’t wonder if she sus ted—
perhaps through Moresby—your being ere.”

But how could even Moresby have suspected
this? The detective knitted his brows and re-
flected, but to little purpose.

“ However,” he said, “ we must be on the
lookout for this fellow, Peters. Making due al-
lowances fer Cheese-it’s loss of time in footin
it here from Chappaqua, he ought to be on hand
an hour hence.”

“ Ven eance is mine, saith the Lord 1” sud-
denly cried the Wild Shoemaker, lifting 11 his
ungainly but powerful arms and shaking hem
abroad fantastically. “ He delivereth the ene-
my into my hands that I may smite him hip
and thigh! My friends, leave the Philistine to
me, and willingly will I yield him up to you
bfugd hand and foot, as did the Gideonite of
o d. ’
ti Claude Markham made a sign to the detec-

ve.

“ Not such a bad idea?” he said.

Old Grip shook his head.

“ I can probably do better than that,” he said,
“by forcing the man to be our secret ally, as
against Moresby, Goldkirk, or both, as the case
ma e.

‘ However, it might be as well for you, Mrs.
Markham and yourself to see him alone first, in
order to be certain as to the drift of his instruc-
tions.

“ Should he not au set my having forestalled
him with you, all wi be well.

“ If the contrary I shall be in readiness to see
what I can make of him.

“ In the mean time Moses here mi ht post
himself on the lookout and within cal in the
event of his services being required.”

This plan was unanimously agreed upon, the
entire party retiring into the house with the ex-
ception of the Hermit, who at once dashed ofl'
up among the rocks. -

Presently, from one of the parlor windows on
that side, they perceived him take up his station
high up on a rocky and wood—grown ledge
whence Maud said he could command an unin-
terrupted view of the Whippoorwill and adjoin-
ing roads to a great distance.

IThere is one thing I must ask about,” said
Grip. addressin himself to the couple. “ As to
this Etna Laun ry business, what do you know
shell: it?" rt ” lied M d “ l

or my pa , rep au , on y very
little and that by hearsay.”

“ o the best of to knowledge,” her husband
said, aftera pause, ‘ the business has been in
(Lipsration about a. year. Moresby told me that

. Griscom was an old friend of his, who
had had experience in the business in London,
and he glaveme to understand that he was su -
plying or with the necessary capital. f
course, there can be no laundry company, save
as he and she compose one. I shouldn’t wonder
if the woman has made it a paying concern, in
spite of Moresby having perhaps intended it as
a cover for some other and lesslegitimate o era-
tions on his own part; for, from the little saw
of her, she struck me as being shrewd, capable
and energetic, besides thoroughly conversant
with the business in its many details.”

“ You were then aware, I suppose, of Mores-
by occupying those private rooms in connection
with the laundry?"

“ Yes; I have visited him there. They are
about the most unexpectedlymagnificent rooms
that one could Well imagine.”

“ Humphi Let me as" if it wns Moresby who
introduced you to Mrs. Griscom?”

 

“ No; I once called at the laundry office to,

inquire about him. and in that way made the
woman‘s acquaintance. Perhaps I met her,- al-
ways briefly, half a dozen times after that, but
not oftener.”

“Ever meet the woman and Moresby to-
gather?”

“No,” reflecting. “Oddly enough, when I
come to think of it, I never did.”

“ And Cheese-it reports that Moresby in his

own person is a mystery about the place—that ‘

even when he calls in the character of Count
Montalbert, it is invariably, and seemingly to

 

his disappointment, at such times when the W0-
man is absent."

“ This is somewhat, but not altogether, unac—
countable to me. You must know, however,
that I never heard of this Count Montalbert’s
impersonation, or knew of his personating any
fictitious character whatever, until informed to
that effect by you.

“ But I now recollect of his once saying to
me something about a precaution he took of
never permitting himself to be seen in the old
forewoman's company.”

“ Didn’t that strike you as being very odd, to
say the least?"

Claude smiled.

“Very likely,” he replied. “But I had be—
come used to so many oddities about Moresby
that perhaps this one did not strike me as par-
ticularly noteworthy at the time."

“ Did he ever have this man Peters to visit
him at his private den there?”

“ No, no; not hei That is, I should think not.
Moresby was, or affected to be very fastidious
and exclusive. The fewtimes that I chanced to
see the man in his company were by accident,
and then it struck me that he was rather
ashamed of him; though he onco vouchsafed to
mention the man’s name as being under certain
obligations to him, after which he added: ‘ But
you will never want to have anything to do
with Peters, Claude. He isn't your sort—nor
altogether mine either, for that matter.’ ”

“ Let me see,” said the detective, “ what sort
of appearing man is Mat Peters as you recollect

im?

“ Rather flashily dressed, short, ve heavily
and strong built. with a very thick bu l-neck.’

“ The cut of his jib to a. doti How about his
face?"

“Very florid, chiefly noticeable for an enor-
mous hooked nose.”

“ Halloi that won’t do. However, the fellow
may be disguised.”

The convarsation continued in this strain for
some time longer, until at last Cheese-it, who
had stationed himself at the side-window, called
out:

“ I reckon the old Gospel-slinger is off his
nut. Anyway, he’s acting sort of ueer.”

Maud, who had just returns from the
kitchen with Luella, ran to the window.

“ Moses is signaling,” she said. “ It must be
that the messenger is in sight.”

At the same time there came floating to them
from far awaythe Whippoorwill call of the Her-
mit.

It was then agreed that Maud should be out
in front of the house for the purpose of first re-
ceiving the messen er there. \

Meanwhile the ermit had disappeared from

his high-perched lookout.
- Ten minutes after Maud had set herself to
work with a lawn-rake on the little apology for
a grass-plot between the rickety i’rontporch and
the yet ricketier road-gate, there came a clatter
of hoofs from around the curve in the stony
road, and then the antici ated messenger made
his appearance mounts on a spirited roan
horse.

He was much such a man' as Markham had
laconically described him.

He at once put down his horse to a walk, and
approached the gate with a cautious and suspi-
c ous air.

“ Can you direct me to Mrs. Markham‘s place,
ma’ml” e politely called out to Maud over the

ate.
8 She eyed him narrowly. and then looked
about her with an air of alertness equaling his

own.

“ This is her lace, sir,” she then replied,
“and I am she. hat is it that you want?”

“ I have an important message for you,” said
the man instantly dismounting. “ Let me
see ” with a dubious glance at the shaky fence,
“ here can I tie my horse, please 9”

She pointed to a sapling growing at the oppo—
site roadside, without inviting him to come up
the driveway, and he seemingly a little reluct-
antly, availed himself of the direction.

Then he came into the grounds, where she
was awaiting him leaning picturesquer upon
her rake, her graceful figure, easy atiitude and
broad—brimmed hat afl’ording somethin g of a.
Maud Muller suggestion. And she was also
near enough the house for those within to ovar-
hear distinctly what might pass.

But the visitor seemed for the time being to
quite forget his message.

“ By J ingo i” he exclaimed, with a look of bold
admiration emanating devouringlv from either
side of his great hooked nose as it focused upon
her: “ but you are a stunner, ma’am l"

H Sir Pl

“ Oh, don’t mind me! it’s all your own fault
for being so all—fired good-looking, you know.
You're a daisy l”

“ You spoke of having a message for me?"

“Sure as you live.”

“ Give it me at once, or take yourself off."

“ Oh, come of! nowi No hurry.”

“ Who sent you here?”

“ Miss Griscom."

“ Don’t know her. Better inquire elsewhere.”

“ Hold on! I was to mention the name of ’
Moresby in case you should kick.”

 

1.

 

r in; v.
A ...4. ,V,

01d. Grips “Still: Hunt-

“.7-

 

 

 

 

I
" indeed! Well, I’m not kicking that I am
aware of."
“ You ,know Mr. Moresby.”

“ es.

“Well, I was to say say three words, that
would cause you to let me have Speech With
your husband, no less than yourself .”

“ What words are they 2"

“ Those,” with a swift glance around, and in
 .a lower voice: “ Try. "Wt; trapped 1”

CHAPTER XXV.
A BOLD GAME.

“THAT will do," said Maud, quietly. “It
happens, for a rarity, that my husband is with-
in call.”

Claude then made his appearance in response
to her summons.

“ Ah, it is Mr. Peters!" be said, after retend-
‘in a critical examination of the visitor 3 face.

geters looked a little abushed at the probabil-
ity of his attempted gallantries having been
overheard, but quickly rallied his impudence,
5, of which he seemed gifted with an unlimited

\V ;' stock.

 

 

 

“ Yes, that’s me, Mr. Markham,” he briskly
responded. “Well, now do we come along in
’: tour rusticity, and how are we feeling ?"

‘ “ You’ve a message for me,perhapsl” sternly.
‘ "‘ Out with it!”

“ Why, certainly, of courso, to be sure, and
why not? Messafis from Old Lady Griscom
or rather from . Moresby through the old

a J!

: “ What word does Moresby send me?”

5 “ I’m to find out something before I answer
. -: that question.”

i “ Find it out, then.”
 “ Ea ve you had any previous visit to—day—

i for instance, from a. chap who might have been
.a d‘eltxecti've in disguise?”

t o \

“ Sure pop?”
“ I‘m not inthe habit of reiterating my re-
plies,” haughtily.
“ 0h, Lor’!" with assumed wonder and then
:5 laughing boisteroust at his own jo e; ‘fain’t
3 you though?” _ I
J “ on’t'be too familiar. my man, or I might
, . be tempted to kick you into the road.”
r‘. “ Ha! and what would I be doing? However,
I wasn’t sent here to quarrel.”
, “ Then don’t act so much like a hog.”
: “ What! bristles and all?”
N Yes.” ,
i . “ Look here; have you had any previous vis-
 . itor today?”
66 Yes.”
‘.‘ What sort?”
“ A detective.” »
1 “You denied it when I asked you."
a ' “ Stick to the fact; you asked about a detect-
ive‘ in disguise.”
l

 

V

M “Just so." ‘

f  “ What detective was it?” I

: : “ Did Moresby authorize this preliminary in-
‘ 'quisition on your art?" '

-., ’ “Try, trust an tra pad.”

»- r ' “Ggud enougul he detective was Old

1 .2 - ‘G'I'l .
 j Pgters started, but instantly recovered him-
='  ' :self saying:
“That is just what Moresby feared.”
“ Well, the visit hasn’t caused me any partic-
unlar fear.” " - r
“ Noi?’ in unafl'ected surprise.
“None whatever.” \

"think so com lacently of detectives—least of all
that special euth-hound you mention.”
“ That is my affair, not yours.” , _
“ Moresby authorized me to question you still
.further.” \
.- “ I have your word for it.”
“ Better than that.” ‘ »
:: Xhai; betttci‘l”~ d!”
ll: "‘8 1 “1M” ,
“ Oh, esl go ahead.” , x’
“ Old rip didn’t come to arrest you?”
“ Of course not, or he wouldn’t have inter-
viewed me.” . ,
“ What did he come for l,”
,“ To treat.”
2 go tre?tl’;f , t ” \
arga n, ’u pre or it.
“To bargain firwhatl” " . .
“ I refuse to say.” _ '
“ Try, trust, trapped!” ’ ,
“ I still refuse.” ,_ . I ,
‘ " heware, friend i this is playing withanedged

l. ,
“‘. It may out both ways.” _ f _ . v

“ Humphl Well, did he ,succsed in what he
ca‘metontreat for? ' x , . . V

o. ,
:“How long has he been gone?"
“ I have done.”
“Beware, I warn
‘ to the devil I”

,“P be 'ouarenearerin
, Nov/Irvin, ,intheeven’é
,yo

of neonatal &t all some
mini .the‘ air-mi ou
.‘ I, I , A
1i?

l i

 

 

 

  

\

  

m s.”

u

“ You haven’t been want,” with asneer, " to ‘

, alive among

you yet again!  twat, ‘

his clutch that;

  

namely! :3 
coming '

 

“ Why don’t ou tell it?”

“Beware of ioresbyl" threateningly.
holds your fate in the hollow of his hand.”

“ His palm is a broad one, then.”

“ You must forswear the detective forthwith,
or you are doomed l"

“ Through whose agency l”

“Mine, for one.”

“ And who are you?"

“ Matthew Peters.”

“ Call it Manchester Mail" called out a clear
voice; and the detective stepped out of the
house, followed b his wife and Cheesedt.
“ You're not far rom Sing Sing, Mat —— less
than eight miles as the crow flies—for such an
avowal.”

“ I don’t know you,” said the man, maintain-
ingnhis composure with an effort, “nor do you
me.

“Mat, ou lie. It is your nicknanie—‘Man-
chester at.’ ”

“ Let us see 1” And with a sudden spring and
lightning-like movement, the detective seized
him by the nose.

The greater part of it—or rather, the cun-
nin ly’ evisedartiflcialenlnrgementof it—came
03 n his hand.

Matthew Peters was suddenly become 0. ve
stubby snub—nosed individual, greatly altered,
not improved in his generala pesrance.

Without a word he sudde y turned. took the
front fence at a leap and was bounding across
the road for his horse like a panther.

The detective had no need to pursue, since the
rascal’s flight was otherwise intercepted.

There was the sharp, by this time familiar
whippo )rwill cry ; a great, ungainly form flashed
into he road from an ad oming thicket, and
then the fugitive was in t etigerish clutch of
the Wild Shoemaker.

Y He managed to half-draw a revolver but was
disarmed in an instant, and was then like a. rag
in the giant's clutch. ‘

“His neck is clothed with thunder, and he
snufleth the battle afar off!" cried Moses, shak-
i the fellow inthe air as a terrier would a rat.
“ l the mfighty are put down from the high
places and e’humble are exalted!”

But ,Maud called out to him mawarning tone,
and when he had landed his strugan victim
once more on the little strip of lawn, 1d Grip
was waiting there alone, the others having
slipped hack into the house in obedienceto a sign
from him.

“ Leave the man to me Moses, and remain
within call, if on like,” said the detective.

“ The wick flee when no man pursueth,” re-
turned the tsxtualist, dubiously. “ The son of
Belial mi ht even take to his heels again.”

“He wi lnot run away from me agai . Be»
sides, should he do so, are on not still available,
Moses, with your hawk-1i e swoo l"

The simile seemed to please the ermit mig

“He

ht-

Peters seemed to shrivel with fear or despair
inthe presence of the pi g-eyed, calm-brewed
detective. ' .

“ You‘ve downed ms at last,” he said, sullen-
ly. *‘Take‘or send me back to the good at
Singwsmg when you please, and be blowed to

on _ ’-

“A ity to do that, Mat, iall when
you'vellon since been deemed fiendd and are
cousequen y no longer looked for, was the
quiet reply. , t

The dead-alive, as he might be called, looked
up (Filickly. _

“ ty and Old Grip l” he sneered. ‘

“The .combination may not be so absurd as
you imagine.” , . ‘ ' ‘

“ You can’t mean,” with a sudden but flitting

5 fly, and he accordingly retired to a distance.

' 'ho efulness “that ou'wo ds remei"
.31 , y  pa

mean just that—on a audition or agree-
ment that you can easily aflord to mks.” ,
“ Nome itl” eagerly. .
“ You mustanswer me one question flrst~on
my assurance, herewith pledged, that, your an-
swgr shall never be used against you, personal:

’3: sum  . .. - .1 ..
are you, s ng y or o erwise, en ag
theOccidental Bank robbery i” g i

“ No, by'Heeveul” '

“ But you know who was?” »

“ I do, but can’t and d’aren’t
at least, not yet awhile. ”

9‘ That is till.- Here then is my condition up-
on which you" ca go free. Be my secret ally,

instead of More: )y’s, or-J.ud Jellifle’s‘ for one

week from this, a’ynd you are still as t 0 dead-
men. ; ‘ V ‘ 1 i
"‘I’m afraid of Jellifl'e,” said Peters, after a

ing ard, “ though I acknowledge I have no lik.

ingfortheman.” ,- r . " , ‘
" Of course not, sinoe'he also doubtless holds
our secret. and is, probably not the easiest of

{asknmsters._ Take your time in thinking it

over,Mat.” ‘ I z

‘, . ‘1 CHAPTER XXVI. '

*  cam m- 

‘ sided rook high up on the crag, which, when he

. ,and then, after exchanginfisqmelparting words"

give him away-- ,

louglpause. in which he had seemed to he think— '

man l"
' Old .Gri

 
 
  
 

' ‘ you couldn’t have up "

   
    
 
   
  
   
  
   
  
    
   
 
  
    
  
  
   
 
    
  
  
    
   
    
 
  
  
   
    
   
    
   
    
   
   
    
  
   
   
    
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
      
    
 
  

“ I’ll do it!” he said. “ I’d sooner trust you
than him, and—I’ll do it I" determincdly.

“Good 1 I must have your oath to this efl'ect.”

“Much hood that would do as a strengthen-
er 1" with a short laugh. “ Au oath from Man-
chester Mat 1”

“ Yes; there is one oath that you will respect
——that you dare not break.”

“ What I” with a startled look; “ you know—”

The detective nodded, with his iron smile,
that could be so terrible when he chose.

“ Just that, and none other!” be interrupted,
in a low voice. “ And.” contemptuously, “it
isn't of the Try-trust trapped order, either.”

Peters looked at him fearfully, and then drew
a lon breath. ,

“ 0 onl” he said between his clinched teeth. ’ 'v

The detective sudden] grabbed the man by
both shoulders—it was a most an embrace—and
clapping his lips to his ear, gave utterance to a
low thrilling whisper.

Whatever was the nature of the oath demand-
ed, or pronounced, It seemed to have an extra-
ordinary efl’ect upon Peters.

With a hushed, awed look in his course fea-
tures, he nodded,and swiftly responded in kind,
both as to manner and speech. .

Then a hand-grip was silently exchanged, and
without another word the man strode out of the
gate, crossed the road, mounted his horse, and,
not casting a single glance back at the house,
rode away. '

“Have no apprehensions, my friends ” smil-
ingly observed Old Grip, on being rejoined by
the party within doors, to other with the Wild
Shoemaker; “ that man is enceforth mine.”

Every one seemed to experience a sense of
relief, without it would seem exactly knowin
why, and the Hermit,with a new look of respec
in his wild face, suddenly touched the detective
on the arm.

“ Mystic and awful is the sacred word l” he
exclaimed. “ It is spoken and men how, even
the birds of the air and the beasts of the field
tremble and ohe ." ' -

With that he tinned away, and they presently
sawhim with his back to them and facing a b - ,

again drew away from it, to disappear amen ‘ ,
the rocky intricacies be and, bore the stone '
words, in huge glaring otters: “ Glory to God
in the Highest 1’;

“ We must now be going,” said the detective.
Claude Markham had already gone to the stable
and brought out the hired equipage. “ And
how shall you manage. Cheese-it?’ ' , .

“ Oh, never mind me, boss ” replied the lad, v
with his accustomed cheer ass. “ Shanks’s‘
more gotched me here, and can take me away, _ A

“ Not if Iknow it!" cried Luella who had s
before this noticed the boy’s tired, tagged—out . i
look. “ After your good service of today; my
dearie. on shall have the .carriageseat be-
tween, ed and me, no matter how tight the,

Y

sqiieeze.”
t was so arran
earnest of leave-

 

ed, and after the most
lugs, the visitors drove
away. ' =

The New York domicile was reached shortly ‘
before dusk without further incident. -« p , .  V
‘ After a renewal of wardrobe and sup r,01d* -
Grip sent a message to Moreshy, to t eefleet‘.

that he would visit him some time that night, <

 

with his wife and Cheese , he set out for the A
banker's down-town retreat. l ‘ ,. i . ‘ ~

It was not later'thari ei ht when hereached ~
his destination, but,-ss be ad surmised, Goldr
kirk was alreadyanxiously awaiting his appser
anceL\-*'» ,'. 

He was alone in the magnificent salon, whith
betrayed not a. vestige of the preceding night‘l
orgies, when the detective entered. . 7"» 

‘ Your news? your news?" repeatedtheibgnk-‘L
er, feverishly. “ What is it that‘you bring

Crimminsl” , I ~ « » .
The detective seated himself with]. grave

shake of the head. , ‘2 if v
i “1What, nothing?” cried Goth despair- '
n , g , , V - . «,
fillotascrap, otanpl” 7, ‘ ,  ‘
figog't they 1: ti"? ‘ M V ’ . '  
o. ,  - ' ' ' ' . ,
dn’t‘ have. offered ’em enough,” saw

 

  

    

   
  

it You
, l . \ I , , . « . ..
aGETKhe deuce! didn't! .' Theynii , ht make them-g.
selvehsg'lch at your. expense. hey know
‘muc .‘ i i'l n". ' ',  
'9‘ And; they-'wduldn’t give up the letters?" ‘ 
- “They say—well they wan tony one w or
the othestoyou.”  _ y g 
“As to whati'g, x . , .a
“ bother they have the. letters or not.‘l
“Ah! their cunnin ,theirtrickeryll’.
. “Perils so.”‘ ‘ l
“ Form 00W“.
V.

ll slightly shrugged hiss}: ’

we. ofro 1v. . »..)   ‘
' Jonah? GoldkirkJW

   
       
    

       

        
  

  
 
   
    
 

   

they m'ustihave ti 1

     
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  

   
 
 
  
 
 

  
  

 
  

‘Yeu mph“ mad ' t norm
. ‘ , In ‘ ave eem's ra .- »
b kid’s-"granola '

  

 

 

ed"cémide'
raise be,

., tags

upposs ou' .. sou nurse“;
ensue l”

  

18

The banker sprung out of his luxurious chair,
drained a glass of raw brandy from a little
table near at hand, after an inviting gesture
which was declined, and then began to pace the
floor restlessly.

“What shall I do?" he exclaimed. “What
shall I do? I must have back those letters; or I
am lost; I’ll be ruined, ostracized, kicked out of
church, ruined entirely!”

The detective glanced around the superb
apartments suggestively.

 

“ You‘d still be rich. though.” he said, consol- ‘

ingly, “ and you would still have your pleas-
ures.’

The banker burst into a harsh laugh.

“ What pleasures?” he cried. “ W hat enjoy-
ment would be left me if I were publicly and
socially branded as—as no longer respectable?"

“ Well, with a satire that was not perceived,
“you seemed to be enjoying yourself, after a
certain fashion last night, at all events.”

“I’ishl Would one of those guzzling topers
have cared a cent for me but for my money i"

“ But,” with another shrug, “ you’d still have
your money, wouldn’t you i"

“ Ah, yes; I suppose so.”

“Well, and what species of happiness of your
sort,” contemptuously, “ can’t continue to be
bought?"

Goldkirk glared angrily at him, and then,
mastering his anger, threw himself into his
chair again, the picture of anxiety and mental
distress.

“ Can’t you or won’t you try to help me out,
Crimmins?" he exclaimed. piteously.

“ Well, there’s Moresby might get you back
the letters."

The banker stared.

“ Who the deuce is Moresby?”

The detective bit his lip. He had been guiltv
of a stupidity sufficiently rare with him—a slip
of the tongue.

“I was thinking of something else,” he said.
“I got two names mixed up.”

Goldkirklooked at him suspiciously, but the
detective’s face was perfectly innocent.

“ Who,” he demanded, “ did you mean, then,
that might get me back the letters?”

“ Montalbert,” was the reply, after a short
pause.

The banker made a furious gesture, and then
looked up in surprise.

“ The count. you mean—or the fellow who
calls himself such?”

t I Yes. 17

“ But how should he know anything, about the
letters?"

“ I don't say he does.
title and distinction—"

“ Foreign flddlesticks I”

“Are apt to be energetic and shrewd when
wife-and-fortune—seeking."

“ I should say so i”

“ And it seems evident at a glance that Mont-
albert ls ‘ dead gone,’ as they say, on your
daughter.”

Goldkii‘k fairly bounded in his seat.

“ Never mention that scoundrel’s name in my
presence again!” he fumed.

“ Hallol”in surprise that was more or less
genuine; “has the count—”

“Count the deuce! An adventurer, a gilded
tramp, a rascal, and no more of a nobleman
than you or I l” -

“ How did you learn all this, sir?”

“ What matters it? Well, a newspaper writer,
who had metthe dead—beat in London and Paris,
told me. I doubt not that the man may even
have been a professional criminal. Gaugh!”

“ Indeed l”

“ Yes; Lord, if I had but known this before
the impudent rascal took my daughter out
driving this morning, to be gone half the day
with her! But let it pass. Should he enter my
house again. I shall have him incontinently
kicked out of doors I”

“But this is ver remarkable!”

“Not at all. hey’re of a iece, the whole
beggarly, fortune -seeking, dirty gang, who
swarm over here like flies, to gobble up: our
daughters and our money! Good-night. rim-
mins. Come and see me again when I‘m in a
better humor. In the meantime, try to think
up some way of helping me out.”

The detective accordingly took his departure,
and the folding-doors were hardly closed be—
hind him before a lisping little feminine laugh
was heard in the room he had just quitted.

The banker was evidently still bent on coil-
soling himself after his taste. ,

CHAPTER XXVII.
nounssx AT noun.

1'! was still not ten o’clock when the detec-
ative reached the Etna Steam Laundry build-

mft seemed absolutely lifeless, and the u -
town, east-side cross-street in which it sto ,
not far from the river, was wholl deserted.

Mindful of the directions he ha received, the
r'detectivva passed up wrough the narrow,cov-
ered aflevway, and found himself in an inclosed
area or court, which was feebly illuminated by
a small gas—light set against an apparently

But these foreigners of

0

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

i
I blank boarded wall to his left, as he made the
‘ turn.
N o doorway of any sort visible.
However, as he had been directed, he knocked
sharply three times against the wall.
' There was a noise, as of a slight move at one
of the darkened windows high overhead.
v Then, after a brief pause, the entire wooden
‘ and outer sheathing of the wall for the space
‘ of a dozen feet up, slid easil and
l
I

carriage-house door.

A brick inner wall was revealed, with a deep-
sot clased door in the center.

As the entire operation looked like an invita-

, tion, the detective unhesitatingly placed his
I hand on the knob.
t It easily turned, the door went back softly on
I its hinges, and he found himself in the rear of
I the sumptuous little passage adjoining the laun-
dry office.

“Come right up-stairsl” called out a voice,
somewhat hollow or muflied, as if through the
medium of a concealed speaking-tube.

Old Grip obeyed, the door noiselessly closing
of itself behind him.

U and up four flights he passed, his step
ren ered soundlcss by the deep, rich texture of
the stair-carpeting on which he trod.

Montalbert and a cordial hand-shake were
awaiting him at the top of the last stair, where
there was another little hall, exquisitely pan-
eled, carpeted. with some tasteful paintings on
the walls. and prettily lighted by a single gas-
jet inclosed in a pink-colored glass globe.

“ Come right in,” was the adventurer’s genial
l greeting, with a wave of the hand toward an
open door. “I’d somehow have expected you,
even without the telegram you sent. ’

Entering the door, the detective found him-
self in the first of a suite of rooms, communi—
cating by partly-open‘portiércs, whose rich and
yet exqisitely tastefu appointments and fur-
nishings were no less luxurious than those of
the banker himself, which they, nevertheless,
powerfully contrasted by reason of the chaste-
ness and purity of everything in Sight.

From the sort of library orstudy, into which
they had stopped, through the larger connecting
a artments, and to the bed chamber interior
disclosed at the far end, the suite was absolute-
ly faultless.

They might have been the elaborate conceit
of a student of aesthetic tastes, with an innate
knowledge of decorative art at his flngers’ends,
and an utter disregard of expense.

The dpictures on the walls. both engraved and
colore , were of the best art and the purest of
subjects.

The books on the library shelves had the solid
and yet not too new appearance; of being col-
lected to read. The magazines and other peri-
odicals scattered over the table, and in the scan-
ning of which the occupant lied evidently been
just interrupted by the detective’s arrival. were
of a standard character, including several of a
scientific nature.

At each side of the table stood invitingly
great lazy-backed arm—chairs. substantially up-
holstered in violet-tinted morocco. in front of
a cheerful. briskly-burning grate-fire which just
appropriately tempered the growing chill of
the October night.

But, stranger than all, the mien and manner
of the adventu er himself had undergone a
metamorphosis n harmony with his changed
surroundln s.

The reck ess, happy—go-lucky air had given
lace to a reserved. thoughtful look, in excel—
ent keeping with his dark, intellectual face,

, save for an occasional evil or sinister look in the
gloomy eyes, suggestive of some sort of deviltry
opt in vigilant but complete control. And
even the movements of his powerful but spare
frame, looking at its best in an elegant flowered
dressing-gown, carelessly confined at the waist
with a thick old and scarlet cord. had somehow
taken on a s ower, more dignified ex ression,
as if his entrance into these‘beauti rooms,
with their exalting. softening influence, was
signalizod by a sloughing off of his hard world-
liness, his roguery, his unprincipledness, and
all that, as a. charmed salient might slough
off its every-day glittering ideousness of scale
and spot and stripe. to the revelation of a gen-
tle and refined individuality altogether other
than its own.

“ Pray be seated,” said Montalbert, in a
grave, sweet voice.

And then, goin to a superb buffet, only 8.
art of whose ela rate carvings were vis ble
n the room immediame adjoining, he returned
with wine, glasses and cigars.

“Let us be en camarade,” he continued,
seating himself and filling the delicate glasses.
“Tr that.” v
“ t is simply delicious!” was the visitor’s
unhesitating verdict, after sipping at his glass.
“ What is it?"

“A cordial, chiefly composed of Chateau
Margaux. tincturad with Maraschino. I hope
you will find the cigars to match,” shoving over
the box.

The detective accepted and lighted one,
Erich proved to be a Cabana of the very rarest

vor.

 

noiselessly to ‘
one side, after the manner 0 a well-constructed ;

 

 

l

“Exquisite!” Helaughed. “This sort of thing
throws my own poor hospitality altogether into
the shade."

“Not at all; a difference. that is all. Beer
is of the world; wine—that is, the most deli"
cate winewis of the soul. My friend,” Mont-
alhcrt bent his changed eyes upon his guest
with a solemn anxiety in their dusky depths,
“this is my true life—the life to which I was
born and bred and must ever more crave, as
a doomed devil in hell must crave the heaven-
ly purity he has so madly dashed aside—this
as you see me now and thus environed. It is
my paradise. When I step out of its hallowed

recincts, I am once more of the world world-
y—hard, defiant, remorsoless, bad—rogue and
devil to the core. Can you understand a con-
tradictory duality—a combinaiion of the op-
posing poles of morality—such as this?”

“1 cannot,” frankly replied the detective,
who had listened, as he had noted everything
in these unexpected environments, in silent
wonder.

“ And yet it is not unique in me,” reflective-
ly. “ The worst profligate of the misnamed
Merry Monarch’s corrupt court — ‘ merryi’
worthless, corrupt, beastly, any other adjective
had been more apr ropriate! —— the Earl of
Rochester had his other self within himself, his
hours and even days of seclusion, meditation,
asceticism, doubtless also his remorse. And yet
did it break him of the animal, the devil-
prompted, irresistible outer self that was hisde—
struction aud damnation, body and soul—as it
must be mine?

“Nero and Caligula were virtue-loving,
amiable men (the angel in their natures‘upper-
most) before the devil-side of their dualities,
evoked to the surface by the exercise of un-
controlled power, made them madmen and
demons.

“ A cold-blooded murderer was guillotined in
Paris not so long ago, who in in his saner and
choicer hours was an enthusiastic student of the
arts and sciences, and had even written a valu-
able work upon hotany—think of that, the
science of flowers, the most beautiful, delicate
and typical of inanimate things.

“ But examples could he cited without num-
ber, were I not the strangest and aptest illustra»
tion in myself.”

He went on at much greater length, and then,
alluding to some new scientific discoveries in one
of the periodicals at his elbow, discussed the sub-
ject With a learning, scope, comprehension, and
aboveall, with a keen and enjoyable zest which
fairly completed his visitor’s surprise.

“ Now look you, my friend,” continued Mon-
talhert, with glowing eyes and earnest face,
” I have not granted you this glimpse into my
better life—the sanctum - sanctorum of my
spiritual, as opposed to my devil—controlled
iinimal, self—for nothing, as you may well he—

love.

“ But answer'me this question first: Do you
believe in what you have seen, and what I have
told you, to be actually existent, and not mere-
ly cunningly counterfeited?”

“ I don’t know whether I do or not,” replied
the detective, after a long and troubled pause.
“ I can only say this: That if it 1's counterfeit-
ed, you are un uestionably the most accom-

lished and inte lectual and fascinating char:
atan this side—well, this side of Joseph Bal~
samo otherwise Count Cagliostro.”

“N’sy,” earnestly, almost pleadingly, “but
say one or the other. Do you or do you not be—
lieve in m sincerity in this?"

“Yes,” alt-desperately.

“Thank you!” with rightening eyes and
manner. “0h, Ithank ou, my friend! And
now that I have wrun t is reluctant acknowl—-
edgment from you, tel me this:

“ Am I, or am I not, capable, with this better
side of me in the ascendant, of loving a pure,
sweet young woman as she ou ht to be loved,
and makin her a passany scent and con-
siderate hus and ?”

CHAPTER XXVIII.
A MOST REMARKABLE ADVENTUBER.

Ar last the worldly drift of Montalbert,
through all the attractive aestheticism which he.
had so skillfully revealed in his strangely con~
tradictory character, or so cleverly dissimulated,
it was difficultto say which, was sufliciently
ap arent to the detective.

l.hfe latter smiled and drew a breath of secret
re ie .

Itwas comfortable to get back into the every-
day sordid world once more with this most re--
markahle adventurer. and meet him fairly upon
ground that was so common to both.

“ Why not,” he said, “ask me outright
whether or not I am here to accede to your
original proposition of hands of! l in your de-
signs upon the banker‘s daughter’s hand and
fortune?” '

Montalhert smiled in reply, but in a grave,
refined way, not in the slightest suggestive of.‘
his rollicking whilom self—or of his demon-
prompted corporeal part, as he might have em
plained in his present psychological vein.

“ Have it so!” he sighed, replenishing the deli-
cate glasses a little wearily, and with a slight

l

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unwise distinctlyh
«emotionless

Old Grip’é’ sun Hun;

 

 

flush coming into his dark cheeks. “As you
will, my friend. What then is your answer?”

“A refusal! I cannot and shall not consent
to your proposition.” _

Montalbert slightly paled, and yet his manner
was not wholly that of having expected a dif-
ferent answer with much confidence.

“It is said,” he replied, regretfully. “You
are not a man whose determination, once forni-
ed, can be shaken. I shall not,,therefore, make
any attempt to urge my case further with

1)

u.

“ I am glad to hear that, Moresby I” cried Old
Grip, with genuine heartiness. “ For, to tell
the truth, outside of this matter, I have come
to like and admire you-in spite of myself. ”

The barest perceptible shrug of depreciation,
accompanied y an elevation of the eyebrows,
was the adventurer’s response to this rather
barren compliment.

“I might truthfully return your oiiteness,”
he said, after a moment’s thought, ‘ by certain
expressions of respect and esteem for yourself.
But all this is no longer to the purpose.

“Let us see just exactly how we stand to each
other. Is it,” with a strange smile, “to be as
enemies, and war to the knife?”

“ Not by my own seeking, I assure you.
Look here: if I cannot help (youhl can at least
place you on your guard, an I Will do so. Lis-

en 77

He forthwith sketched the result of his mis-
sion as Goldkirk’s agent to the Markhams,
knowing perfectly well that Manchester Mat
would have already told him this much, or as
much as he had been able to infer; but, of
course, without saying a word of the friendship
that had been cemented with the Whippoormll
con la. ‘

6 then described his last visit to the banker
himself, together with what the latter had de«
clared of his discovery that Montalbert was a
fraud, to be ostracized and squelcbed.

The adventurer’s eyes scintillated like steel as
he listened to this last, and he impulsively thrust
out his hand.

“ As friend or foe, you are a good fellow,
Crimmins!” he exclaimed, not without emotion.
“ Forewarned, forearmed l” with his deep smile.
“Still, I suppose I must now look to your oppo-
sition to my marriage scheme?”

“ It must be so, more or less,” replied the de-
tective, with kindred earnestness. “ Still.-Gold-
kirk will probably take the matter in his own
hands from this out, so that there will doubtless
never be any occasion for my appearing in the
matter one way or another.”

“ Ah, to be sure! Come!” rising, and lifting
his glass, with a brilliant and engaging smile;
“ a last health, and may we never have cause to
hate each other any worse than now!”

“ With all my heart!”

The glasses clinked, the pledge was drank,
and then the guest was shown to the door with
the same refined courtesy that had distinguished
his reception.

At that instant, however, and at the moment
of crossing out over the threshold, hat'in hand,
a sudden and deathly giddiness seized him.

Had that last loss of wine been drugged by
some cunning sleight-of-hand‘l

He struggled to turn and again face his host,

who was directly behind him,but was somehow
incapable of the exertion. ,

Then,.as in a dresm,he saw Peters peer at
him out of a deep niche at the opposite end of
the hall, near the staircase landing, and make a
vigorous motion to one side with his head.

Then there was a. vigorous push from behind.

“ Ha, ha, ha!” burst out Montalbert, in a ter-
rible lau h. “ Belt of a detective! did you
think to cave me in order to ruin me? Fool!
know this, which now on the threshold of your
doom I can afford to tell you: I and I alone am
the robber of the Occidental Bank, and the
crime-confessing letters that shall place Gold-
kirk under my thumb are already in my pos-
session! I shall destroy the Mar hams, your
new friends, as I am about to_destr0{ you!
Your last wine-draught was poisoned y my
hand. Dawn, down into the unkn0wn, into the
ranks of the ‘ mysteriously missing !’ ” .

The spellbound detective had resisted the first
push, evon,,while incapable of turning, and with
those demoniac words rin 'ng in his ears.
Another thrust from ind was not to be re-

sisted. r .
He staggered, s inning, into the middle of the

hall, the floor an den! opened beneath his feet, ‘

and he was in nlf the opening instantly
closing up over h m as he disappeared.

Even at this juncture however, he remem-
bered that side—gestureo the head as afforded
by Peters, and managed to guide bis ecipita-
tion somewhat in the direction indica d.

As he did so his arm came in a ‘p over an
invisible beam or support of some ind, and he
hung suspended over the blackness.

At the same instant another object close at
hand, perhaps a piece of timber lacsened by the
jar. went plunging and cluttering down. '

Then etc were heard over the resecured

_ flooringor ra above.

“Itwa’swe done and on werou to ur
’ eardy:Montalbei?t’s «ids,
yohorumrk. “Hark! there he

. ed insu

 

     

crashes down, down. down! And even if a
bone should remain unbroken or a breath of
life boleft, the poison will do or him. It has
but one antidote in the world, as you know.
Remain here on guard, as I shall probably not
be back before daylight."

Then there were more steps, after which all
was Silent.

The detective’s plight was most desperate.

In addition to his hanging thus sus ended in
the black darkness, by what sort 0 support
and over what depths he could only dimly con-
jecture, the dizziness was only relieved in his head
to make him the better aware of a terrible grip-
ing pain in his stomach, occurring spasmodicnl—
ly, and leaving him nothing to think but that
the poison was already clutching at his Vitals,
as perhaps but the prelude of causing hiui to
faint, dying, from his precarious support, and
go plunging down, perhaps a corpse before he
SirlOillllLl. lie maimed and bleeding at the bottom
0 t a pit.

Howuver, by a great exertion of will and
strength, he managed, after feeling along the
wall, to come upon yet another beam, or some-

thing of the sort, which he succeeded in bestridr

in .

This relieved the strain upon his arm, and
rendered his immediate position less precarious,
though the agony in his stomach was now be-
come such a tearing, reading pain that he
could with difficulty abstain from screaming

out.

“ M God! in what a. special flend’s clutches
have fallen?” he exclaimed to himself. “ Cag-
liostro, indeed? Why, Catherine di Medici her-
self was itiful and exalted in comparison!
0h, why did I not mistrust him? Why—3’

He was interrupted by a ray of ight, ap-
garefiitly reaching up to him from a great

ept .

At the same time, a voice—evidently Peters’s

voice, but strangely hollow and muffled—called

“‘35 Hallo!”

The detective managed to answer. »

“ I am here to save you i” called up the voice
again. “ Can you hold on where you are for a
minute or two!”

“ I can try; though the poison seems eating
my insides out.” ‘

‘ That is only apparent. Thoush deadly, the
poison is slow. and I have an antidote in readi-
ness. Does this light of mine penetrate to you
somewhat l”

“ Yes; a little.”

“Examine the side of the pit where you are.
You will perceive a series of regular foot and
hand holds by which you can make your way
down here to me.”

The detective did perceiveat last the supports
indicated, but at the first essay found himself
too weak and pain—racked to undertake the

risk.

“I’m afraid I’m not equal to it,” he called
down. “ Can‘t you procure a ladder, or some-
thin of the sort!”

“ ladderi- This pit is seventy feet deep.
AndI am too heavy to shin up there to you.
Try again.” . '

The detective did make another eflort—ades—
plants and heroic one—and this time with bet-
ter success.

CHAPTER XXIX.
IN ran PIT.
AFTER 3. series of agonized efforts, the detect-
ive at last succeeded in reachin the bottom of
the pit, where he fell, half-fsin g, into Peters’s

arms. . .

. “Here, drink this!” exclaimed the man,

pressing atumblertohis 1i s. “It is the onlv

:intidgto. on earth, and
me.

Old Grip drained the contents of the glass at i

a single gulp.

The draft was exceedingly bitter, but its re-
lieving effects were almost instantaneous.

The in gradually disappeared this was fol-
10wed a cooling and enervated feeling, and
then be me so weak so week!

It waslike a painless dying of sheer inonition.

“Here!” and/Peters sympathetically hel
him to stretch himself out‘ on a heap of ne
shavings or “ Excelsior "upholstering material.
“Now remain mat a few minutes and Iwill
give nusomq g to strengthen you.” '

01 Grip looked about him dreamil .

The man, the lantern which he he set down
on the ground, the bottom of the pit itself look-

. stantial,unreal. as if all, himself includ-
ed . might somehow vanish at a. breath. !
Then slowly but steadily, he began to take
note ‘of his surroundings better; his powers of
observation quickened and strengthened.

The pit wasbox-shaped, perha stwelve or fif-
teen tests uare, and the walls or eighteen or
twenty foo up were of brick masonry, above
that of wood. ‘ . - ’

The fiund was unlittered, savo b the heap

w ch he lay and by the beam; allen from

ve. which hisflrst precipitation through the

trapdoor—far, for above, urther than he could
see distinctly—had 1608de from then

u
8

against which he had violent! struck W‘
magnum»    . .

 

hope there is yet;

 

Directly opposite where he lay there was a
half-open door in the masonry, by which Peters
had obviously entered into the it.

At a considerable distance rom this there
was another dOor, closed, smaller and deeper
set than the first, and having the appearance of
being very solid and firm.

“ What a lucky thing,” said Peters, at last,
“ that 3 on twi rged my meaning inthnt sidelong
motion of my load and acted accordingly. 1!:
was thnt alone that saved you. Otherwise you
would have been dashed to pieces. No one else
evar started on this plunge before, and lived.”

The detective tried to reply, but his 1i 3 and
tongue were parched beyond the power 0 utter.
once. .

His rescuer first plied him with a draught of
cold water, and then administered some diluted
brandy, which at once revived him greatly. '

“ Then I am not the first who has been pitch-
ed to die like a dog in this hole!" were the de-
tective’s first utterances.

Peters cpursed up his lips.

“ Mr. rimmins," said he, guardedly, “ those
last words of mine werea sli of the tongue. I’m
here to rescue on, and I‘ll o it. Further than
that I shall tel no tales as to particulars.”

“ How did you come in here!"

“ From the sub-cellar of the laundry,which is,
on a level with the bottom of this pit. ”

“ What is that other door?"

“ A door, and a 10cked one. "

“ Indeed l and where does it lead i"

“ Into a tunnel."

“ A tunnel?”

“ Yes ; and that out on to the river-front, over—-
brewing deep water, alongside a sewer. N ow*
that is all I shall tell you on that paint; so you
might as well be content to draw your own con—
clusions.”

“ All right!”

Then, whether from the eflects of the‘poison
the antidote, the brandy, or something else, a
was once more dreamy and confused. ,

How could this coarse, dead-alive ex-criminal,
Manchester Mat, have proved so suddenlyfaith-
ful to his new alliance, and have become so sym—
pathetic and comparatively decent, notwith-
statilging the secret power of that whispered
oa

Might not the man’s truth, his fidelity, even
his presence there, be but a delusion, a cheat-
in fragment of this (lreaminess and unrealityi

o; the mists began to-clear again, and there
he still
tern at one aide of him, the stimulants at the
other. i
“ You’ll need a return of all your stren h
soon, sis,” said the man. “ Try another pu at
the grog.”

Old Grip did so to advantage. .

v “ I suppose I can tailgto you,"he said, “in
the interim i”

“ 01;, lfa!  dfiyil’ won’t be back to
mspec' a it i ay lg .

‘ Answerpme some questions, then."

“ Go ahead, Mr. Crimniins." V

“Why should the villain have assayed the
poison with me, since the pit trick might have
so readily sufficed!" , -

“Ah, but it didn’t sufilce in ,your case, and

‘Jud ,Jelliffe is fond of having a sure thing.

“ Have you been his confederate for long!” ,

“ Call it his slave, and yes! He' held me by'
the same secret that you do.”

“That is. one of. my present unreallties. I
can’t nits-believe in ! your fidelity to me.”

“ I’dl sooner trust in our mercy than Jel—
lifle’s. WouldI have ven you t at hint at.
the top of the pit if I hadn’t meant the square-
thin -or be here now, for that matter!” ‘ . ,

“ 3 for ive me.” -

“ It’s all r ght sir. Besides, in addition to
your holding me by the same secret, can I for--
get that out 9”

“‘True again. By the way, what was that, V

other oath or password, ‘ Try. trust, trapped’i’"
“Just a password, and no more. of a‘ secret

iety that Jellier has organized within the. _ '

paotfew years. Dre that!’
.: ‘ Good Tell me his, than 1:. You heard?
Moreeby": declarapmm 0L be 3 the banks

may and the r of those mining let-s
“Yes, sir; and with no less surprise than. ,
your own.”" I , '

“ Gospel truth! U tether moment, he had
humhu ed me comp only. Even now I can’t.
quite un auto t.’ ‘ . . .

“ The man is a mystery.” ,-

-“ You bet!" .

“ This strange double life that he claims to»,'- _
lead-«the refined, or student half of him. at”; -
exemplified by his surroundings in those beau; -

He has ‘ralw'avrsfl ‘

tiful rooms?

“’2’. ““m‘i'z ‘33???“ u. .' sum
seem an e e n a ,1 in ,n , .
way. Hadqyougflhllen in with his design. mg
ml t have
wh le wonder g at

“That istrue.” 1’

“You can now,‘also, unders
of the hold be exercised over
on”:  You 109.!!!

1

hot wellrbv
tram

        

sat, even anxiously watching, the lan- 

 

my, positively r scouring}:

ndsomothi) 

     

vet-52f

unfit-'-

- done for,
‘

astruck' ” pointing to several ima
- on the pit-walls; “ and he brought:

20

Old Grip’s sun I-Iunt.

 

 

ly, if not wholly, this attractive or angel side
that was presented to the young fellow. ’

“ I can understand it now. How am I to get
out of this!" .

“ Look here! I’ve been thinking. There is
a good dodge you can put upon Jellifle now."

“ Ah! the dead—alive dodge?”

” Exactly; just the one that I have been play-
ing upon the prison folks so successfully.”

“ But Jelliil‘e will inspect the pit here, with
the expectation of finding my dead body.”

“ That can be managed. shall tell him you
were so smashed up that I couldn’t endure the
thought of your corpse lying here, and conse-
quently carried it out through the tunnel.”

“ A good idea!”

“Well, then,” reflectively, “ we’ll have to

uit the pit by that means now, to give color to
.t e deception."

“ I am ready,” and Old Grip managed to sit
up.
“ Are you sure you’re strong‘enough?”

“ Nothing like trying. Give me the rest of
the brandy.”

This was done, and the detective then got up-
on his feet unaided.

“ You’ll do l” said Peters.

Drawing a key from his pocket, he ap-
proached the deep-set little door.

CHAPTER XXX.
THE ESCAPE.

Tan door yielded, after some little difficulty,
to the man’s manipulations, and the entrance to
the tunnel was disclosed.

To make a long story shorter, it was finally
threaded from beginning to end, and the explor-
ers at last found themselves seated on the river-
blufl, overlooking the dark rush of the ebb—tide
along the sea-W8. .

They had come out on a lonely and wooded
bank, such as are still frequent along the East
Side or Yorkville river-front and were not far
distant from the foot of Eighty—sixth street and
what is known as the East River Park.

But the passage of the tunnel had been a
tedious and exhaustive one, and the enfeebled
detective was glad at last to sink down, panting
and dizzy, upon the turf.

“ That is right,” said Peters, taking a seat at
his side. “ Time enough.”

“ How shall you manage?” asked Old Grip,
after a breathing-space.

“ 0h, easily enough, now that I think it over
in this early morning coolness. I’ll manage to
get back into the pit just about the time J elliflfe
visits it. And there before us is my excuse for
having forestalled his inspection in the disposal
of your dead body.”

‘ What do you mean?”

“ The tide. Look at it.”

“ Well i"

“ It is the double-headed ebb, as they call it
hereabouts. Half an hour later than now, a
cor , newly chucked intothe rushing, swirling
we r there, would stand a chance of being
stranded up yonder on one of the Hell Gate
rocks, or perhaps down yonder in the reef-shal—
lows that girdle the lighthouse point of Black-
well’s Island. Now, however, it’s ten to one
that it would be swept straight down out
through the Narrows, unless tangled up with
theI shipping or pier-spiles.”

 

“ Nothing like taking advantage of the tides,
you see, when getting rid of a corpse.”

“ I understand.”

“ As for yourself, you must skulk back home
and keep there. It will be days before you are
finally rid of those poison-effects. Put that
shrewd little boy of yours in communication
with me. And he’d better still be coming to the
laundry, sort of down-iu-the-mouth over your
mysterious disappearance. But, of course, you
understand.”

“ Yes; the plan is good.”

“ Good-by and good-luck, then! If you're
able, vou’d better be getting along while it is
still d'ark.”

With a grasp of the hand, doubtless earnest

i enou h on either part, they separated.

Sti l faint and weak, the detective succeeded
in reaching his home in secrecy, telling his
story, and being put to bed, where in a short
time though under his wife’s loving care, he
was in a mild but persistent delirious fever.

As for Peters, he had calculated his chances
so nicely that when, shortly after daylight, he
returned to the it bottom by means of the tun-
nel, he found oresby already awaiting him
there, lantern in hand. ' V

“ So! I was just about to follow you out,” said
the adventurer, sternly. “ What did you mean
by removing the body, without orders?”

“ Have you forgotten the tide businessr’in-
quired Manchester Mat in his turn. “I was
just in time for the ebb, which has like enough
floated the stifl half-way down to the Battery
by this time. Or did you want to keep the
thing lyiu here for twenty-four hours?” -

“ Hump l I should have preferred to inspect
the body first. H0wever, the man was quite
I suppose?”
eader than a mackerel! Look where he
' marks
hat big beam

 

down with him, into the bargain. No blood, ‘

though,strnnge to say; for there seemed to be
hardl an unbroken hone in his skin.”

"'1‘ at will do. The man was my chief dan-
ger, though I had come to have a. sort of liking

or him. No more likings and softnesses for
me, however! The treachery of those Mark—
hanas has proved that sufficiently. Come up!"

Moresby was in full evening dress, and look-
inrr at his best.

I‘Vhen they had made their way to his rooms
on the top floor, he sat down and penned a note.

“ This is for Mrs. Griscom as soon as she
reaches the ofiice," he said. “ See that she gets
it. It may necessitate her absence from the
laundry for the greater part of the day. By
the way, you might as well be around, keeping
your eye on that little rascal, J immy. He is,
or rather was, Old Grip’s secret spy, as you
know.”

“ I do know it.”

“ Well, sound him as to how the wife may be
taking her husband’s disappearance, but very
cautiously, you know."

“ All right.”

“Be off, then. I’m tired out, and shall pro-
babl sleep the greater part of the day.”

“ old on. J u ! You haven’t given me a rap
for days. I’m broke.”

Moresby made an impatient gesture, but ro-
strained himself, handed over some small bills
without a word, and then almost ushed Peters
out of the apartments, fastening t e door in his

ace.

Peters did not even growl under his breath,
but went off contentedly to his breakfast.

When he returned, an hour or so later. the
steam laundry was in busy operation, and Mrs.
Griscom was at her ofiice-des .

She took and read the note without com~

ment.

“ Send the boy Sammy to me as you pass out,
Mr. Peters,” she said, abruptly. “ And when
you see Mr. Moresby again, you can merely say
that I shall do as he suggests.‘ What are you
lingering for?” with something like a smile.

Peters grinned and looked a little sheepish.

In spite of her fast silvering hair, her un-
usual staturo and her brusque business ways,
the forewoman was not without her middle—aged
attractions, and Peters had been aware of them
for some time past.

“ What are you so curt and savage about,
ma’m?” he asked.

“ But I’m not, Mat,” with a little laugh that
softened and sweetened her dark face. “ Why
should I be?”

" Have you ever spoken to Moresby about that
little affair of ours yeti”

“ Pshaw! no. He wouldn’t hear of it.”

‘,"Of course he won’t, if you never speak of

it.

“ But I’ve told you repeatedly that you and I
can never marry, Mat.’

“ Bosh! So you have, Nancy, but without
ever telling me why we can’t. Give me your
hand!"

But here the entrance of the boy Sammy, of
his own accord, cut short Mr. Peters’s scrap of
love-making, and he went away.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
was roanwomau.

“ SAMMY,” said Mrs. Griscom, “ has that
new”boy, Jimmy Fox, made his appearance
yet?

“ No, ma’m. He’s late to-day.”

“ Send him to me directly be comes.”

‘ ‘ Jimmy ” put in an appearance shortly there-

after, looking almost like a different being he.

seemed so troubled and anxious.

“ What is the matter with you, Jimmy? You
look like a little ghost."

“ N othin’, ma’m.”

“ Come now, you must be more truthful, my
little man, or you and I will fall out.”

“ I don’t like to tell.”

“ Come .here!” she drew him to her side in a
kindly, motherly way that was rare with her.
“ You must know that I know your secret.”

“ Lor’, ma’m l”

“ Yes, that you are really in the employ .of
Old Grip the detective. You must know that
I know all about you by this time, through my
friend, Mr. Mores y."

Cheeseit hung his head with an admirably
counterfeited sheepishness.

“ You see that I am not angry with you
though,” continued Mrs. Griscom, with renew
kindness. “ What is your real name?”

“ Cheese-it.” .

“What aqueer name!” with a little laugh.
“ But it can’t be your real name?”

“ Yes, ma’m, it is,” hanging his head. “ I
was a tough-that is, a street-boy—when Mr.
Crimmins picked me up years ago, and that is
the only name I ever knew myself y.

“ Ab! and wh are you so sad and dispirited
this morning, w th that tell-tale redness about
the eyes?” .

Cheese-it at once began to sob and biubber at
a eat rate.

‘ The boss hasn’t come home!” he whim-
pered.

 

“ What! Mr. Crimmins?"

“Yes, ma’m. Hain’t showed up since last
evening, and the young missus is just wild!”

“Nonsense! Such men as he must often and
necessarily be out over ni ht, and longer, too."

“ Not when he fixes the our for his coming
back ma’m—never! Oh, we’re sure something
awful must have happened to him.” .

“ You mustn’t think that. Such men are
usually well this to take care of themselves. But
loiik you, iuy boy. In spite of the we you
have deceived me, I have found you usefu and
Mr. Dick Moresby says you are a. real help to
him in the engine-room. So you can remain in
your situation, if you like.”

“I would like it, ma’m !” eagerly.

“ That is settled then. But, mark you! no
more deception, and you must inform me when
Mr. Crimmins returns to his home.”

“ Oh, but he won’t return, ma’m l” blubberin
afresh. “He’s killed or smashed somehow.
feel it in my bones that I have lost my best
friend!”

“ I fancy on make too much of his absence.
But that wi 1 do now.”

An hour or so latera beautiful and fashion-
ably-dressed blonds lady made an unexpected
ap arance in the oflice.

t was Luella, as a matter of course and she
was to all appearances in a high state 0 nervous
excitement.

She would hardly wait to introduce herself
before bursting out with vehement and tearful
demands for information about her “missing
husband.”

“ He was to have come here to see Mr. Mores—
by last night. You and Mr. Moresby must ex-
pain the matter. I don’t care what you may

ave already told our little boy,Cheese-it. My
husband would have been home before this—he
has never broken his promise in this res ect
since we were married—if you had not one
away with him. Where are Mr. Moresby’s
rooms, anyway? Ah, I am not altogether igno-
rant of that evil man. He is an adventurer, and
also calls himself Count Montalbert. Give me
satisfaction, ma’m, or I shall call in the police!
V‘tht have you done with him? Don't talk to
me!

And any quantity more in the same frenzied,
incoherent strain.

The forewoman, who seemed greatly puzzled
and alarmed at all this. nevertheless, waited
until her visitor had talked herself fairly out of
breath. I
“ ‘y dear lady,” she then said, sympathetic-

ally, I cannot ima me what can have become
of our husband. owshould I? Do be reason-
ab e. In fact, I never saw him but once, and

then he was here disguised as a countryman.
But I have explained all this to the little fellow
on call Cheese-it. Wait until I can see Mr.
oresby, and if he can give me any hint as to
Mr. Crimmins’s disappearance 1 am sure he will
be glad to do so. I shall send on word.”
“ Where is Mr. Moresby? demand to see
him at once.”
“But he is. not here—in fact, he is seldom

here.”

“Madam, I will not be tricked! He has liv-
ing rooms somewhere in this building. My
poor husband"—her voice breaking again—

‘told me so.”

“ Yes, he has rooms,” reluctantly. ,

“ I demand to go to them at once!”

“That would not do; your same of propriety
should tell you that. Besides, Mr. Moresby
would scarcely be found there. Now do be
calm ma’m, and view this matter in a less ex-
citable light. Leave it to me. I sympathize
with your distress, and shall do all I can to rep
lievc it.”

Luella at last so far calmed down as to prom-
ise to wait for developments, and, sti 1 ap-
parently more or less nervous and unstrung,
finally consented to go baclr home without sum—
moning the intervention of the police yet
awhile.

Shortly after this, Mrs. Griscom, after hur-
rying through with some accounts. called Lucy
Jarvis to take her lace at the office desk, and
hastily quitted the uildin . ‘

She had hardly turned t e first street-corner
before she abruptly turned in her tracks just in
time to discover Cheese-it following her, and to
take him by the ear with a grip that made him
wince.

“ Look you, my boy 1” she said with a steely
unpleasantness in her voice,“ suppose you
were not following me, as a matter of course,
but are only out on some errand for the engine-
room, eh?”

“Yes, ma’m, that’s it. Ouch! Holy mack-
erel! my ear!” '

“ Ah, indeed! but it was so long as to seem
like a positive invitation to twist it. Run back
to your work, my dear; and _be very careful
to have no more errands till you see me
again.”

She released him and continued on her way
but presently looked back to perceive Cheese—i
and Sammy engaged in a pitched battle in the
midst of a juvenile crowd on the corner she had
deserted.

It was evident that Sammy, after viewing .

the ear-twisting,'had endeavored to poke a 111'.-

z

. - - ‘-'l 

'L'H‘LJL.

 

 

 

a A __ I???"

l

 

4.; —

 

 

9"

«master of my passion.

.N’Vw_

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

21"

 

 

tle fun at his associate, and with indifferent
success.

“ bright boy, that!” muttered the fore—
woman, as she quickened her steps. “ It will
be a pity—for him—if I sha’n’t be able to utilize
his cleverness in my own way.”

CHAPTER XXXII.
MONTALBERT'B BOLD GAME.

Ma. BANK PRESIDENT GOLDKIRK was once
more at his fashionably lato breakfast with his
daughter, in his palatial u -town residence,
when a footman brought in ount Montalbert’s
card.

The banker could scarcely conceal his indig-
nant embarrassment, for he had not yet had
the opportunity to acquaint Blanche with his
discovery of her suitor's unworthiness.

Before he could collect himself, however, the
adventurer airily pushed his wa into the
dining-room, almost on the heels 0 the flunky
who had brou ht in his card.

“Morning, r. Goldkirk! morn ng, made-
moiselle!” he cheerin exclaimed. “M dear
child, how transcendently lovely we are coking
to-day! I kiss your hand,”suiting the action.
“Ah! dejeu'ner a la ourchette en famille?
Just my good luck. T anks, mademoiselle l" in
res onse to a bright look of invitation from the
gir . “ Yes I don’t care if I do; though a crust
of toast an a cup of safe? au lent, With just a
dash of cognac must be my sole indulgence."
An he familiarly seated himself at the table,
whi a. servant bestirred himself in obedience
to a si al from Miss Goldkirk.

The anker could only glare in speechless in-
dignation at first, and then he rose impressive-

 

y“ Count Montalbert,” he said, with a signifi-
cant emphasis upon the title, “ I must request
an interview with you at your earliest con—
venience. I shall await your presence in my
study.”

Montalbert‘s Mali; was a careless and smiling
nod, and then, as . Goldkirk stiflly withdrew,
he resumed his complimentary chat with
Blanche, who seemed sufliciently pleased with
his attentions, with whatsoever coquetry she
might simulate an indifference toward him.

‘ Papa is angry,”observed the young lady,
in a low voice, but without the least interest in
the subject. “What can have come over him
so suddenly?”

“ Can’t you guess?” And he fixed his dark
eyes upon er, with :1 little laugh in them.

“ Not without an effort, perhaps,” with an in-
souciant shrug of the pretty shoulders, “ and I
never make one if I can help it. So tell me,
count, at once.”

“ Send away the servant,” he whispered, “ and
I will.”

It soon became evident that the adventurer
had resolved to play a bold game, and with pre-
cious few preliminaries.

He was no sooner alone with the fair young
girl than he softly imprisoned her hand, his face
aglow, his fine deep eyes resting upon her with
magnetic earnestness.

“ Blanche, I love you!” he exclaimed, his low,
musical voice vibrating as with the intensity of
all but uncontrollable emotion. “Forgive the
unseemliness of such an avowal under these
prosaic circumstances, but I am no longer the
Have you not guessed
it? My God! my love has become a volcano. a
heart-quake. Share my title and be my wife!
True, m noble and ancient name is about all I
havo to hey at your feet—save the devotion of a

'heart which Iyou have unconsciously made your

own—true, am poor. But, ah! how I love
you! Answer me, my life, in own!”

The words were not spoken, ut “ poured out,”
as a matter of course, with the custom “ im-
passioned fervor " “indescribable excitement,”
and all that sort of thing, such as has become
the stock-in-trade of the novel-writers in scenes
of this description.

To be in keepaing with this stereot ed man-
ner of writing, lanche should have rst paled,
then blushed, then trembled w1th vggue agita-
tion, and then have either exclaim , “ Sir, it
can never_ be! I am sorry for this, but you
must dismiss me out of ,your mind, out of your
heart, out of your life i’ or melted into his arms
with an inaudible si h sufficiently eloquent of
surrender and consen , as the case might be.

But Miss Goldkirk’s manner of receiving the
declaration was altogether at variance with
these conventionalities. ‘

Sentimental and romantic asshe was, there
was none the less a hard vein of practicalness in
her composition. '

She was, moreover, so little of a hypocrite
that, havin long since secretly made up her
mind that s e was more in love with this man
than with any one else except herself, she
Evasn't particularly anxious to dissemble the

act.

So, without saying a word, she merely blushed
prettin and naturally, while permitti him to
retain her hand, with downcast eyes. a caving
chest and other evidence of pleasurable emo-

on.
The “ count ” was becomingly ecstatic until
she interrupted him with a dreamy little laugh.
“How funny it all seems, right here at he

 

breakfast-table, too !” she said. “ But don’t rave
any more, at all events not at present, count.
To tell the truth, I only care much for love
making in the abstract, if at all. But now tell
me what all this has to do with the cause of
papa’s7grumpishness, which you were to explain
to me. ’

“ My adored! but don’t you see that this has
just everything to do With its"

“ No; why should it?"

” He at last divines that I love you.”

“ Ah, to be sure! and is doubtless displeased in
consequence i”

“ Precisely, as a matter of course."

“ No, no; but as a matter of perversity.
Henri when you are so charming to me, why
should papa not find you charming likeWisei"

“ Because I am poor."

“ As if that should make any difference!"

“ It should not, but yet it does to him. I am
sure of it.”

“ Henri—yes, you may kiss me just once
more l—be at your ease. Papa will not venture
to refuse me anything. Did you note with

what a short turn I brought him round the 

other day when he so far forgot himself as to de-
mur at my possessing a new pony and village
cart? I want on, and she] have you, and
there is an en . Besides, lam over eighteen
which is the legal age of feminine discretion, I
believe. Don’t worry at all.”

“ But, my dearest! ’and the adventurer could
with difficulty keep his countenance; “if, in
spite of all your deliciously sanguine previsions,
he should persist in kicking, why—"

He came to a dead pause be ore her puzzled
stare.

“Why should he kick?" she asked. “Papa
never kicks anybody or, anything that I ever
heard of.”

“Ahem! I mean {if he should persist in ob-
jecting to my suit, and even go so far as to be-
lieve in idle rumors to my disadvantage——-"

"Say no more, Henri. We were meant for
each other, and to each other we shall belong.
I must now go up and dress for the Chrysanthe-
mum show.”

So, with a parting kiss, the adventurer non-
chalantlysailed off into the library forthe threat-
ened interview with his storm-sails set.

As he entered, Mr. Goldkirk was angrily pac-
ing the floor,but before the latter could open his
lips Montalbert had fired his first gun, and it
was an astonisher.

“My dear Goldkirk,” cried the adventurer,
quite beamingly, “ I am Somethin of a pre-
Visionist—I know just exactly what it is on our
lipstosay to me. It is that at last you ave
found me out in my true character, which is
that of an adventurer, a charlatan. a rascal, a

retender—in fact, no count at all. but a genu-
ine rogue at large. Eh, my friend '4”

“Well, sir,” stammered. the banker, fairly
taken aback, “you—you are perfectly correct
in your divination! Let me imitate your un-
blushing impudence in this much at least."

“Burma! excellenza ! charming!” jovially
preparing a cigarette. “ I knew it. I was sure
of it!” , .

“Ah, indeed! Well, sir, since you seem so
chaigful over the matter, what have you to say
to it.

“Just this, my dear financier my glorious
old money-maker!” producing a lucifer-match
while flattening the end of the new-made cigar-
ette for his lips; “that I am about to surprise
you still further with a certain announce-
ment.” ‘

“ Very likely, sir; very likely!” with sup
pressed fury: “and what may this surprising
announcement be?"

“Aha, Papa Goldkirk!” striking the match
alight down the back of the banker’s velvet
dressing-gown: “curious as a woman, eh? In-
quisitive as a rat? Keen on the scent as a bun—
gry dog after a buried bone! Sly dog that you
are. eh, sly do i”

“ Sir!” swelling to bursting,and yet inarticu-
late with fury.

“ One minute!” uif, puff, pufl ! “ Don’t be too
eager, my boy. his it is. then: I have 'ust
proposed to your adorable dau hter, shehas ad
the good sense and discriminat on to accept me
on the spot, and our paternal blessing and con-
Sent are the o _v remaining requisite to com-
plete our happiness."

The banker stared Wildly at first, and then
sat himself down hard in the first chair that
was convenient without a word.

Some amazements, like some of the tenderer
emotions, are too deep for words, too full for
utterance.

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.
“ nusixnss, MAN, Bosians.”

THE astounded Goldkirk’s next demonstra-
tion was to reach out for an electric bell-button,
when he was courteously arrested in the move-
ment by Montalbert. ‘

“ Don’t be over hasty, mon beau pére that is
to he!” the latter pleasantly interposed; “ what
would you ring for?”

Then the banker found v01ce at last.

“ To have you kicked out of my doors!” he
roared. “ You infernal, rascally quintessence
of insolence and scoundrelism! how long do

famille, you know. But I

 

you think I am going to stand this sort of
thing?”

Montalbert laughed, calmly seated himself,
and producing a placket of letters, playfully
shook them under t e banker’s nose.

“Just as long as I see fit," he smilingly rec

plie .

Goldkirk had turned perfectly white, and
was gasping painfully, like a runner or hunted
man hard blown.

It was the package of missing letters, or
some of them at least; even by their outSides v
he had recognized them at once.

“ Don’t be in a hurry, l’apzi Goldkirk,”cnn-
tinned the adventurer airily. “ Take your
time. Or if you are still bent on your ilunkies
kicking me into the street, you have but to
touch the button.”

But. instead of accepting this advice, Gold-
kirk made a sudden snatch for the letters——a
swift, tigrish spring, accompanied by a low,
hoarse cry.

The next instant he was plumped back into
his chair, with a wail of physical pain, his
forearm half-twisted off at the elbow, the ad-
venturer’s vise-like clutch upon his wrist.

“ Easy, there, easy!” said Montalbert, still
smilingly, though With a dangerous inflection
in his soft voice. “ There now;are you going
be be civilized and reasonable?”

Goldkirk nodded, the big drops standing out
on his white forehead, and he was accordingly
released.

“ Now then," continued the rogue, calmly
reseatin himself, and with the packet of let—
ters stilF kept cautiously in sight, “ business,
man, business I"

The banker seemed like a man whom the
real life, no less than the color, had suddenly
gone out of.

He burit into a hollow, mirthless, cackling
sort of laugh.

“ Oh, yes!” he said, in a weak, galvanized
kind of tone; “ that is the talk. Business,
man, business! Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho he!”

The adventurer gave him a quick critical
look. It Would hardly do for the old fellow
to be shocked out of his senses just yet awhile.
However, nothing more than the profundity of
despair was apparent as yet.

“Do you know how I came in possession of
these letters, my friend i”

Goldkirk was rousing himself back to life
and interest with a powerful and sustained ef-

ort.

“ No.” he replied, more naturally. “ How
was it?”

“ By robbing the Occidental National Bank,"
coolly. “ I am the cu] rit." -

“ Ha!” fiercely, “ an also the murderer, with
the hank-watchman’s blood on your soul."

Montalbert careless] shrugged his shoulders.

“ Say on my hands, the corrected. “ I am in
doubt as to that soul question. We are two-
fold, each of us; there is a dual existence in
every life. But as for the soul? Pesfe.’ it is a
knotty point."

The banker, who had now, after the first par—
alyzing shock, regained something of the nerve
With which to face themisfortune, could not but.
gaze at the man with something of the wonder
with whlch the latter had even inspired the vet-
eran detective toward the last.

“ Go on!” he exclaimed, after an exasperated

use. “ What else have you to say i”

“ But really, my dear Papa Gold kirk, I must

roceed leisurely in this matter," continued
Eiontalbert, gently. “Not that I may not safe-
] defer these absorbing psychological discus-
sions until I am your son-in—law—altogether en
must arrange my
thoughts with regard to these letters."

Goldkirk gritted his teeth, but managed to. _
hold his ace and wait.

‘ ‘ M ear Papa Goldkirk,” the other went on,
smoot 1y, “ what have we in these extraordi-
nary lettersi Let me at first recapitulate their-
history.

“ Mrs. Markham, then Miss Crust, your sweet.
daughter’s (my adored Blanche’s) governess, had
at last wearied of our persistent entreaties for
her hand in marriage to that degree that she
had thrown up her situation in disgust, and
quitted the city.

“Your passion must have been of the death-
less and abiding sort. At all events, you could
not resist the temptation of writing to her. No-
answer.

“ You wrote again, but your second appeal
must have been penned under confused circuma
stances. To say that Miss Crust was sur rised
when she received this second epistle is oubt-
less but mildly to indicate her emotion.

“ In fact, it wasn’t your letter at all. but one
newly received by you from a ormer and 1191'-
five associate in crrme, reca ing in data 1 the
history of a series of stupendous forgeries by
which you had got your early start in the bank-
ing business which you have since prosecuted so
successfully, and for which the writer had ac-
cepted the ignominious part of scapegoatT-be-
coming a prescribed exile, with the sole stigma
of the crime u n his name and fame, for is
stipulated consideration at your hands.

‘ This letter was from Montevideo, where the
writer still lives, under the med name of

. things fatally mixed. You must have destroyed

.against your importunities.

 
 

'22

 

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

 

Castro, on the income which you yearly pay
him as the price for the (I able ignominy whic
he is complacent enough to bear alone.

“ It was the miscarriage or failure of one of
those payments that had invoked this threaten-
ing and circumstantial letter from him to you.
Doubtless intending to destroy it when about to
mail your second epistle to Miss Crust, you got

your newly-written letter to her, and Sent her
the incriminating letter from Castro by mistake.
Am I right so far?”

“ Yes!” was the harsh admission.

“Goodl Discovering your mistake when too
late, the remainder of your correspondence
with the bored young lady was of a decidedly
different tone. No more love-making, no more
protestations, no more tear-blurred entreatiesto
name the happy day—at all events, no more of
this sort of gush per sv. “ Return me that let-
terl only do this, and command my services,my
heart, my urse. But return it to me, or I am
lost, ruine( , your ta~k—slave to the endl’ Such
was the new epistolary burden.

“ But our bored and persecuted little gover-
ness was no less shrewd of her advantage than
independentlyscorni‘ul of a millionaire widower‘s
hand and heart.

“ She returned no answer, thereby tacith re-
fusing the new suit as steadfastly as she refused
the first. Let me see; how do I stand, by now?
Correct so far i”

“ Go on i” was the banker’s gloomy and by
now restrainedly composed sole answer.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
MONTALBERT‘H TRUMP CARD.
THE adventurer continued:
“ Well, I am near the end. In an evil hour
for her, and ,on a piteously false assurance from
you that la petite Blane 28 was at the point of

 

“ His real name is George J ellifl'e."

” What of it?”

“ He is my father !"

Goldkirk sunk back.

“ I don’t believe it l” he said, hoarsely.

“It is none the less true, and can be readil
roved,”was the composed answer. “ Misce -
. aneous rogue as I am-—bank-robber and mur—
i derer into the bargain, if you choose—I, Judson
l Jelliffe, rascal-atlarge, am the only son of
George Jellifle, rascal but once in his life, and
then in your partnership, and still a stipulated
exile in non-extraditional Uruguay in your

ay.

P “Perhaps he doesn’t regard me as much
credit to him. Who knows? But blood is
thicker than water. I may have to hunt him
u ). .
“No, nol no need of that. W's—we can pro—
bably settle this thing.”

“ Of course we can. And look here; I shall
take it on myself to et back that one letter
from the Markhams. don’t like the idea of
their retaining it much more than you do.”

“ Old Grip was there yesterday for that pur-
pose, and without success.”

“A fig for Old Grip! He won’t trouble you
further.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ Just what I say.”

“ But Where is he?”

“ Disposed of.”

“ Good Lord I you haven’t murdered him, too i”

“ Papa Goldkirk, be content with a main fact,
without being over-inquisitive as to partic-
ulars. As your prospective son-in-law, I calmly
advise it. ”

The bunker winced afresh.

“ Well, well,” he said, assuming his brusque
business tone, “ then we are of one mind in this
affair, and I suppose I can safely leave it in

 

death, the governess permitted you to persuade
her to become once more an inmate of your
house.

“But your verbal insistence was of no more ;
avail than your penned effusions had been. i
You continued your entreaties bath of love and 3
for the return of the incriminating letter. In
vain. She would not use it against you,but
would retain its possession in sheer self-defense

“ In this she was firm. Your passion turned
to fear, and perhaps from fear to hate.

“You even committed fresh crime. You en-
tered her room during her absence, broke 0 en
her trunk, and surreptitiously secured the ct-
ters—ull of them, for those of your own follow-
ing upon the misenveloped one were almost
e an]! y incriminatin in the frenzy-prompted
a issions of guilt w ich they contained.

“Miss Crust was furious upon the discovery.
Little cared on. But, with the restoration of
yourdsense 0 security, your hopeless passion re-
v1ve .

“ Your fresh importunities that she should
become your wife at last stung her to madness,
disgust takin the place of ennui.

‘ To squelc you the more completely, she at
last declared t e fact of her betrotha to your
private-secretary. Infuriated with jealousrage,
you drove the oung woman from the house,
and have since t on been the couple’s implacable

foe.

“ Well, Papa Goldkirk, I have about finished
my interesting recital. Here are the missin
letters—with one important exception, I mus
admit,” with a singular smile. “ What are you
goin to do about it?”

Go dkirk eagerly caught at the last but one
of the concluding sentences.

“ With one important exception?” he exclaim-
ed. “ Which one?”

“ The most important of all—the Castro letter,
I admit it.”

“ Hal And where is that?”

“In the possession of the Markhams, I think.
Perha 5 you are not aware that they were on
friendly relations with me—without easing
my true character, I must confess to t eir ad-
vantage. Well, Claude Markham, just before
his flight, must have obtained access to the cor-
respondence after it had come Into my posses-
sion, and abstracted the master document of the
pile. But this is only inference on mypart,
though a strong one. At all events, it is not
with the others.”

The banker drew a great breath of compara-
tive relief.

“ Rascal, I can still defy you, then i” be ex-
claimed.

_Monta1bert repeated that singular smile of

1s.

“ Ahl how you jump at conclusions,” he said.
“ The drowning man’s clutch at the proverbial
straw is hard y a circumstance, Papa Gold-
kirk, even had the mastertletter ceased to exist,
you are as much and indubitably in my power
as ever.”

“ Pshawl how ?”

“ The writer of that letter is still alive in Mon-
tevideo, as I said before, or was at last ac-
counts. ’

“ Yes, but," confidently, “ beyond your reach
or influence. " .

“ Go slow. Castro is an Englishman.”

your hands.”

“ Exactly,” and Montalbert put the packet of
letters carefully out of sight. “ I’ll take care of
everything. That part of it is settled. Now,
my dear sir, call in the adored Blanche without
further delay."

Goldkirk turned hastly once more.

“ What for?" be altered.

“ Do you forget that our betrothal awaits
your paternal blessing?”

“ Heavens and earth! but you can’t really
mean it, Moutalberti”

“Can’t I?” with fleetin sternness.

“ Oh, my God! the ido of my heart, and to
betroth her to such as you—an infamous scoun—
drel—a self-confessed robber and murderer?”

“Pests I” airily. “But I am impatient, old

boy. What more fit betrothal—the first Scoun-
drel of the age to the forger‘s da htert More-
over, I sha’n’t make the girl a ad husband.

There is a chic worldly vein underneath her
nonsense that I rather take to. However, all
this is neither here nor there. Hurry up, Papa
Goldkirkl"

The banker buried his face in his hands and
shuddered.

Montalbert sternly laid a. hand on his shoul-
der, and then his quick ear detected the swish,
swish of rustling silken skirts descending the
stair.

“ Blanche, my lovel”

“ Yes, Henri!”

He took her in his arms, kissin her. as the
drew into the library together, w ile Mr. Gol -
kirk started wildly to his feet.

“Blanche my angel, we are in better for-
tune than I had heped. Your father not only
consents to our union, but is overjoyed at the
idea. Dear and esteemed sir! we await your
paternal blessing.”

“ Oh, papa, how real good of you I”

And, without noticing his frightful pallor,
Blanche stood with bowed head, her hand in
her lover’s, before the tortured banker.

The latter would have broken down com-
pletely under the crucial test but that the ad-
venturer’s warning and merciless eye was upon

him.

He muttered some incoherent words, kissed
his daughter‘s forehead, and then pretended to
hunt for a book among the library shelves while
the betrothed pair, chatting gayly, quitted the

room.

Mr. Goldkirk did not give wayto impotent
fury or despair when he found himself alone.

He was beyond that point. ‘

He simply resumed his seat, with his head
bowed uponhis breast, in a. species of ghastly
reverie.

When he looked up again, even Montalbert
would have been uneasy at the look that had
come into that drawn and pallid face.

What was the new expression that was so
startling? Ho eor murder? At all events, it
was a new an desperate resolve of some sort.

And, without a muttered word, the man
passed out of the room silently and methodi-
cally on his daily business.

CHAPTER XXXV.
nurnornnn LOVERS.
THAT evening Count Montalbert was 3 din-

 

 

“ Granted; but what of that?”

ner guest at the maison Golflkirlcmnd it was

Iéle stepped to the door, opened it, and looked '
u

 

generally understood throughout the numerous
household that Miss Goldkirk and he were en-
gaged.

A new and expensive ring glittered among
the numerous costly ones on the young girl’s
left hand, her engagement-ring, and both she
and her lover were in the highest spirits. while
“ Papa Goldkirk ” dissembled so skillfully that
even Montalbert was more or less decuved.

“ Papa,” cried Blanche, when the dessert was
on the table and the servants had been dismiss—
ed, “ two or three important events must be de-
decided upon forthwith.”

“ Of course, my love,” was the smiling re-
sponse. “ But what are they ?”

“ In the first place, I must have an engage-
ment ball.”

“ Ah, by all means i” interposed Montalbert,
with his gay laugh. “ What were an engage-
ment without le grand bal, love without frivol-
ity, beauty without her dance? As well a Her-
mes without his caduceus, a Comus minus his
mask! Yes, yes, Papa Goldkirk ; an engagement
ball or death I”

“ Henri, if you dare laugh at my suggestions,
I shall be seriously angry 1”

But her face was flushed with happiness none
the less.

“ Oh, of course 1” assented the banker, easily.
“lVliy not? Of course you shall have what you
Wish, my dear.”

“Of course—it 17a sans dire! And then thege
is the weddin , you know.”

“ Tut, tutl ut the day isn’t fixed, my dear.”

“A formality that should be attended to at
once,” cried the adventurer. “ Adorable
Blanche, that is your divine privilege.”

“ I shall decide it by to-morrow, Henri.” with
a. fresh blush. “ But that needn’t defer our con-
sideration of the affair. Pa a, it must be just
magnificent—unapproachab e l”

The banker nodded indulgentlg.

“ With all my heart, petite. ut wait!” with
comical consternation. “ There is one thing we
haven’t thought of yet.”

“ What is it, apa?”

" Why, Henr , being a Frenchman, may also
be a Catholic." ‘

“ Set your minds at rest my dear friends,”
said Montalbert, easily. “ am a Protestant.”

“ How odd that I’ve neVer thought of this be-
fore l” cried Blanche, laughing a. little disap-
pointedly, it would seem. “ But I've no ob; -
tions to the Catholics, you must understand. ’

“ If that could onlybe known at theVaticanl”
said her lover, with mock earnestness.

“ There you go again, monsieurl” pretending
to frgwn. “But I shall take you in and some

“thinly speed the day, petite, and I am con~
n

“ Incorrigiblel But really I do like the Cath-
olics. Their service is so im ressive, and by
long odds they have the best c oir music in the
cit . Besides, Henri, are not all the hunt
no lesse rigid Catholics?”

“Not quite, my love,” stroking his mustache
with much gravity. “ It was the Edict of
Nantes—or the abrogation of it; really I have
forgotten which—that marked the financial ruin
of my conscientious ancestors, who happened to
be Huguenots, you know.”

Mr. Goldkirk burst into an hysterical little
laugh, which he hastily cut short, though a lit-
tle too late.

“ Excuse me, my childrenl” he said, contrite—
ly. “I was, unfortunately, thinking of some-
thin else.”

“ h, papal thinking of something else, with
my wedding-day and Henri’s ancestors under
discussion?”

“ Bah I” interposed the adventurer,also laugh-
ing. “ Cut bone? Weddings are serious enough
a airs, to be sure. But as for ancestors, pouf!
The world wags, it is a democratic a e, and
‘rank is but the guinea—stamp,’and a thatl
Vale aristocracy] viva la plebiscite.”

“Oh, you shall have the wedding—when the
day comes 1” said Mr. Goldkirk quite genially,
but with some impatience. “'But you really

- must excuse me, as I have a pressing business

engagement down-town this evening." And, as
he ram, with less than half his accustomed
bottle of port finished, he gave the adventurer
a meaning look. which was responded to by a
scarcely perceptible nod.

“ Fie, papa l" and Blancheshook a pretty little
forefinger at her an ust rogenitor. “Business
engagement, inde 3 es, your odious club
business, as usual. I know!”

Mr. Goldkirk seemed to be swallowing some.
thlfigl with difliculty,and then managed to laugh
lig t y.

4 “ But can you complain, my love.” pausing to
‘ouch her bright head With his hand, “ when I
leave youlin your darling count’s company 3”
And he made his escape.

Two hours later the adventurer, after a. most v

enjoyable téte-d trite—enjoyable to Blanche, at
all events—kissed his youthful inamorata good-
night, and set out direct for the banker’s down-
town rooms at the top of the bank building,
with which he had already been made familiar.

To his surprise, instead of the colossal negro
janitor res ndin to his summons, the door was
opened by . Go dkirk in person

 

.r « .

 

 

 

 

    
 

‘ hams?”
0-.

, limitations in such a. competition, I trust.”

 
 
  

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

 

 

 

   
 

“ Why, what is u , Papa Goldkirk’f” he play-
fully demanded,whi 9 they stepped into the ele-
vator together. “ Don’t you find this a trifle
mfra dig ? And what has become of your uni-
formed master of the gates?”

The banker pulled the cord, and laughed a lit-
tle angrily.

“ The overgrown rascal l” he exclaimed. “ He
insisted to—night that he must go to his wife’s
sister’s wedding, or something of tho sort; and,
as there were really no special festivities on the
carpet for this once, I was weak enough to in-
dulge him.” c

“ What! none of our accustomed (um wisdom
for this occasion, eh i"

“ No; but even our set can’t be expected to ju-
bilate every night in the year, you know. But
we can talk over matters all the more enjoys.ny
for that, you must know.”

The sumptuous upper hall showed but a dim
light as they stepped into it, but the handsome
Ilujj'at room into which Goldkirk quickly intro-
duced his guest was nicely lighted and warmed,
with wine, cigars and the ct ccteras awaiting
them, as if for the most comfortable of chats.

“ You are really looking decidedly youthful, '

my dear count i” was the banker’s initial greet-
ing when they were snugly bestowed at last be-
fore the cheerful grate-fire of cannel coal.
“Never saw you in higher feather, to tell the
truth. Love-making must agree with you.”

Though somewhat suspicious of the apparent-
ly unaffected geniality of his host-victim, as the
banker might be called. the adventurer madeno
sign to that effect. .

‘ It always did,” he smilingly replied,stretch-
ing out his irreproachable legs to the gen'ml
blaze, and critically sipping the fine wine that
had been poured out for him. “And with such
a little angel as Blanche—ah, my friend!” with
an ecstatic gesture; “ how odd that such an old
hunks as you should have brought her into be-
ing! Capital sherry this, by the way. Carmina?"

“ No, Amontilado, and of the best. Ha, ha,
ha! Hunks, eh? How old are you yourself, my
friend i”

“ Thirty-nine.”

“ What! and I shall only be four winters the
senior of my own son-in-iawl” ,

Then they both laughed, as pardonable liars
upon this point of age are apt to do, after which
the banker said:

“ But now let us get down to business my
dear fellow. When shall you visit the rk-

 

CHAPTER XXXVI.
EDGE AGAINST EDGE.

BEFORE re lying to his host’s suddenly serious
query as to w on he intended visiting the Mark-
hams Montalbert, as we shall continue to call
him for convenience, finished his lass, replen-
ished it, lighted a cigar, and than after a
deliberate study of the fire, looked up and
smiled.

“Sba’n’t you seek out the young couple at
all?” cried Goldkirk, in real or feigned surprise
at his companion s wiliness. “ Why, man
ilivei ,the missing letter must be recovered, you

'now.

“ Oh, that’s all ht! Don’t wo 1 Of
course, I know. Egg—with anctherrlssmile—
ngpa Goldkirk, I want to be sure of you first.

ee’. v
“ No, I can’t say that I do, at least not v
brilliantly,” somewhat doggedly. “In factafI
,should think you’d find me to have accepted the
situation submissiver enough.” ~ g

“ Ah! 3. little too submissively. There’s the
:rub my beauty!” -,

“ Vhat more can you want or demand?”a
little sav ely. “Perhaps,” sarcastically, ,“if
we chancfi to be Mormons, and Ilhad two or
:hre: more daughters, you would want them,

00! .
“ Ha. ha, ha!” the pleasantry seemed to
fields“ the adventurer immensely. “ Ho, ho,
0 .
“ Ha, ha he!” with increased savageness.
“Glad on e me so jocosely.I‘m sure. Quite
a vein, suppose, that vou inherit from your
guises” ancestry of the hunt noblesse? Ho,

0, o "

“ Oh, come 03, Goldkirk,.and don’t be such
an unmitigatedass!”

“ For thatmatter. my lord count, I'll measure
my ears against yours any day.” ~

‘ And your Wits, too, pprhapsf’? with a search.

   

 
 

ing look. i V . ;

'No: excuse me. I am not obtuse to my
“ I’m not so sure of that. In a war of edge
against edge—or diamond cut diamond, as the
triter saying is—I shouldn’t make the mistake
of holding you cheap at all events.

“ fibre is my trou his, Goldkirk, in a nutshell:
You accept your fate too readily. It isn’t natu-
ral or human.- You overdo the g.” , =

“You are mistaken there. “You will certain-
ly grant, however, thatvthe totality of my sub-
missionto the yoke you have forced upon me,
if honest, makes it convenient for you?’ ’

“‘Yfl-rithaflest.” A .

, “Rest content: then,”,with profound earnest-

 

 
 

  

 

n ‘ori'ts. rfsct-simlihtion. “gShsll‘ ve
’ pagestandmanutmwfiool” ’1 gi

   

‘ met. dryly. i

“ Yes.”

“It is this: Much as I love my daughter, I
love my honor, my reputation, my respectability
max-2h There you are!”

l

The adventurer’s eyes were u n his face as if
they Wuuld read his inmost sou .

“ Montalbert ” still more earnestly, “ it is
true! It was a bitter,bitterstruggle you forced
upon me,” with emotion—“bitterer, doubtless,
than you can conceive of from your Victor‘s
stand-point! But you conquered, and my sub-
mission is none tho less sincere because so thor-
ough and object. Believe me in this, I beg of
you. My hope in my child is buried and done.
She is yours. And, if the decision makes me
your victim, not the less does it make you my
con federato in saving what remains of in y honor.
i’itiabie as this confession may be, it is honest.
Will you believe this?"

“ Yes, by Heaven!” with an oath; and the ad-
venturer forthwith stretched out his hand,
which the other emotionally seized. “I sha’n’t
ever be too hard on you,Goldki1-k; and it‘s to be
hand-in-glove with us from this time out."

“ I am really glad to have overcome your line
gering suspicions at last,” said the banker,
touching his glass to his compunion’s. “ And-
and, Montalbert, you—you will treat the child
kindly when she is yours?”

“ Trust me for that!” heartily. “ She is a lit-
tle trump, and I never yet was unkind to one of
her sex." i

It had been head against head, edge against
edge, but it could not, save in the evolution of
eVents, be certain which side had won. '

“ I shall trust you,” Mr. Goldkirk went on to
say, quite simply. “ And you will not find his
niggardly. B anche shall bring you a dowry of
a quarter of a million, and you shall have
twenty thousand a year to start housekee ing
with, or go abroad, or live as you choose. ill
that do?” a little timidly.

Montalbert’s black eyes sparkled, and he smote
the table with his strong hand till the glassesand
decanter jumped. . .

“ I should say so l” he cried, jubilantly. “ Papa
Go dkirk, you are a brick! By the way, Blanche
has fixed the day.” .

U Eh?”

“ Yes,” complacently; “ the first of December,
which is also her nineteenth birthday.”

“ The deuce! a little hasty, isn’t it? However,
I sha’n’t complain.”

“ That is good of you. And,my dear sir—I’m
deuced hard-up at present, humiliating as it is
to confess it.”

The banker produced his check-ka with the
most rfect imperturbability.

“ ow much? \

“ A couple of thousand, if you don’t mind.”

“Don‘t mention it. But, assing over the
filled-out check “I say, Mon bert?’

“ Thanksl—Well, Mr. Goldkirki”

“ Thoseabstracted funds, you know— Ha, ha,
hal—swa , as it might be called?”

H  ’5 . ‘ V.

“ Twenty thousand in cash, together with
sixty thousand in bonds, if I remember arighti”

“Correct. And perfectly intactas yet—just
where I know it is.’

“ Ah! I only thought, or rather wondered,
you know—”

“ Why I hadn‘t dipped into it as at, eh?
Ve natural you sho But the stu is too
fres to handle, my good sir: and ‘I am by na-
ture discreet, I may say very discreet. All in
good time.” 1

“'Ah of course!” ._,.

‘ And then for a few moments, even with the
shadow of his own early crime hanging over
him, the banker fell to ma cling in a dreamy
way how he should be th discussing the sub-
389, of his own bank’s robbery—or, at all
events, the bank of which he .was the trusted
president and a. chief stockholder—with the
man who had perpetrated the deed.

l Montalbert was the first to next break the si-
encfl. . .

“As for the'Markhams,” he said, reflective-
ly, “ I shall cook them out to-morrow after-
noon.” . ~:

“ Good, good! You are sanguineg’ hope-
fully. “ of securing the Castro letter from
them?“ ‘ ' * .

“ Absolutely certain of it.” ,

The banker rubbed his hands together fever-

“I wish I could feel as confident of it as \

you i" he exclaimed.

“Be at ease. I shall return ,from Whip-
poorwill,with the, telltale epistle in my pos-
56391011.

“ And you will bring it here—here with $311: '.

at once, and at this hour, say eleven? I

await, your coming with confidence; eh i”,

' “, Yes,” slowly. “I will at least exhibit it

go yo’u here, say to-morrow night, at this
our. ' . , , ’
“Ah, that will be well, that’will be ex-

cellent! You see I am naturally nervous, Mont-

albort, until that infernal latter is back in’ my
-  ,r l .

pee 'on.” ~ ’3‘ x 
“Eta; our possession,n corrected the cams

     

 

. you accompany me?”

    
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
 
  
   
    
  
  
  
   
  
 
   
   
   
   
  
    
  
   
    
   
  
   
   
     
    

“ Of course of course! just the same! You
won’t forget i",

“ No, no; be easy.”

“ What! must you be goin l"

“ Yes." Montalbert was a ready on his feet,

reaching for his overcoat. “ It is late. Don’t

“ No, not further than the lower door, to say ,
good-night. I must remain awhile to have out _ ..
in smoke and think.” 5' 

avin seen his unwelcome guest to the
street, 1‘. Goldkirk remained standing at the
foot of the elevator shaft for a moment, rub-
bin his hands softly, his lips moving.

“ Ie will be sure to come back to me with it.”
he feverishly muttered. “He is confident of
it. Yes, es; I shall receive him here once
more, an be sure that he has the letter, alone
——all alone in this great, hollow, empty build-
ing—alone, alone 1”

CHAPTER XXXVI I.
WHIPPOORWILL AGAIN.

EARLY in the afternoon of the following day
Montalbert was driving over the road between
Chappaqua and Whippoorwill.

The region waswho iy new to him, so that he
had to inquire his way more than once, but it
was not difficult, he had secured a. good horse,
and at last, after less than an hour‘s drive, the
lonely old crng—backcd farm~house, as it had
been more than once described to him, was
reached. - ‘

Maud Markham was there to receive him,
and he did not attempt to disguise his con-
sciousness of the comparative coolness of her
greeting.

“ Mrs. Markham,” he said, with grave frank-
ness, or what was an undetectable counterfeit of
it, “ I have learned from Old Grip that the en-
tire truth as to my detestable ast career is at
last known to your husband an yourself.

“ Do not imaginethen that I repine, or even
find it in my judgment to blame you for the ne- ‘
oessary consequence, in that I can never more
be to you both what I once was.

“ Far from it. But I am herenow now on a
life and death on in your interests.

“ Dare I then he ethatl ma be permitted '
tospeak with your usband no oss than with
yourself with the least ible delay?”

Maud hesitated. An at there was a seem-
ing warmth and even put as in Moreshy’s man-
ner that won upon her.

“ Wait here Mr. Moresby,” she said. “I
will send for blonds, though I cannot answer
for his consent to meet‘you.” \

' Leaving him in the parlor of the old house,
she disc poared.

Mores y wasa keen reader of character, mo-
tivesand thou hts.

"These as have not at that letter,” he
said to himself, alone. “Elliot is patent at a ‘
lance into the woman’s noble face. N ow what
5 11 I do?”
m’l‘he case of the missing Castro letter was just
t '9:

Just prior to his visit of that morni upon ‘
Mr. Goidkirk, Moresbgggad gone to his.p aceof ' __
concealment for the nk plunder and other
valuablesflor, the purpose 0 getting the pack- ,
age of letters. On looking over them, he dis-r ‘
covered to his astonishment and consternation
that the gem of tho heap—tho Castro epistle—was
no longer with the rest. A hurried, followed
by a. careful and methodical, search slow
and aloft, everywhere, in fact, had failed to,
bring the missing document to 1i ht. It was ;
then, in the impressnon, that C nude mlglili: . . ‘
have taken the libsrtyto abstract it, that ' ‘»
had gone to the banker’s house, hslfahotted, as '-
it were, and yet with sufficient formidableness ‘ '
to secure a partial Victory, as we have seen. ,
But he feltgand none better than be, that his
victory could not be dee'ined ushsolutelysscm‘e' ' »
without the recoveryof that master-bomb of his

111 Mine so to speak. Goldkirk would be sure

to eman its production,and would doubtlcs
rightly construe a failure to produce it as acou- .
fession of the one remaining vulnerable spot in . '
his adversary’s armor. , dos, had he not
confldentl promised to produce it on his return
fromthe hippoorwillrotrsati * » I
Now since his-few minutes’ conversationwith
Maud had satisfied him that his suspicion of .
Claude's assessing the letter was without foun- v ,
dation, w twssrhctodof ‘ ,. A I
At lssthusthistecthhard,cndsmiledinhis ,
iron and quietly resolved my; ‘

" There is but one-course.” he said to himself. ,

“ That is, to bluff it out with Papa Goidkirk, at .
all hazudshpretend to have it and yet refuse ..-»
to show it ' cndtoalarin the Markhamsi'ntopuik
ing up s and driftin further ofl lntotho '
heart of this tree-and—rnc wildemessforany '
where out of! tho-way, for that matter, so that
Goldkirk at all events shall lose track of. them 
should he men into his. head to seek a secret; »
corroboration of some of the yarns Ii‘shall be  ;
bound to tell him. . This is the only course, and ’ ‘
itsholl bowed." - I g I . 1 ~

Soon a ‘ coming to‘ this determination 
- omby hsardsteps $21930th thshack of “
the and'thcn.‘ ed returned, 

:- husband -

 

   
 

       
      
    

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' nied‘b. '- , -
.fisagtpg‘wmt'yankno {

  
 
 

 
   

24:

Old Grip’s Still’Hunt.

 

 

the adventurer, rising and inclining his head
with an admirable assumption of painful em-
barrassment and reserve, “ I shall not even ex-
ect you to touch my hand again. But I do
hank ou deepl for granting me this inter-
view. t shows,’ with emotion. “ that you can-
not even yet regard me as absolutely, unreliev-
edly treacherous and base.”

Claude Markham was somewhat affected, in
spite of himself, though he managed to dissem-
ble the feeling retty effectually.

“Sit down, 1‘. Moresby,” he said, with as
much indifference as he could command.
“ Maud has told me what you have already said
to her; so that you won’t have to repeat your-
self at all events.”

The adventurer obeyed, and in the few min-
utes’ conversation that followed became con-
firmed beyond a doubt in his first impression
with re ard to the couple’s ignorance of the
missing etter.

At last Maud, who had been manifesting
symfitoms of im atience, burst out with:

“ ut what 0 Mr. Crimmins, the detective
Mr. Moresby? What is your last news of
him?” while Claude looked up with equal eager-
ness. .

The adventurer at once surmised that the fact
of Old Grip’s disappearance had already been
communicated to them, and governed himself
accordingly.

“ That is one painful subject that I must 5 k
of,” he replied, in a voice and manner 0 the
profoundest concern. “ The detective has dis-
appeared.”

“ Disappeared 1” from both in a breath. “ But
when? how? What is the explanation of it?"

Moresby shook his head graveliy.

“ I only Wish I knew,” he as. d, knitting his
brows. “ Mrs. Crimmins went to see Mrs. Gris—
com about it yesterday morning. She was al—
most frantic."

“ Yes ' she has written me a line to that effect,”
Maud a mitted. “ But it was quite incoherent.
We merely gathered the fact as you have stated
it, and have been anxious for the particu-
lars.

This was true, Luella. having sent the noti-
fication under Old Grip’s instructions, on the
shrewd assum tion of the very visit that was
now being ma e to Whippoorwill by the adven-
turer in Goldkirk’s interest or his own.

“That is just the mystery of it,” replied
Moresby, gloomily. “ There are no partic-
ulsrs.

“ Nonewhatever?” They seemed additionally
anxious and alarmed.

“ None. All that I know or can surmise about
the matter is what Mrs. Griscom told or tried
to tell Mrs. Crimmins, who unfortunately, was
little better than beside herself with grief and
anxiety.

“ Crimmins had visited me at my rooms by
appointment on the last night that be was seen,
it seems. We did not agree in the business that
was between us, but separated amicably, indeed
with hearty good feeling on both sides.

“ This was at or about midnight. I remem-
be? hearing him regain the street and walk
briskly away, after which I did not give him
another thought.

“ If the detective is dead ” in a hushed, pain-
ful voice, “it may be that I am the last friend
who saw him alive.”

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ran CLOVEN roor.

“ DEAD l” echoed Maud. “ Old Gri was
hardly the sort of man to disappear or is and
make no sign. I cannot believe it 1"

“Neither can I l” exclaimed Claude, decided-

I .

y“ Well, now ” interposed Moresby, brighten-
ing up, ‘ to tell the truth, that is just how I feel
about it myself. In fact, I called upon Mrs.
Crimmins just before quitting the city to day,
and did my best to im ress her with this feeling.
But she was inconsola le—accused me of know-
iiif more than I professed of her husband, and
a that sort of thing. I did the best I could,
but it seemed of no use.”

This, so far as his visit and attempted con-
dolence were concerned, was the truth; Luella
having played her part to such perfection as to
completely deceive him.

Both Maud and her husband were perceptiny
agitated over what they had heard. '

“ Poor Mrs. Crimmins l”exclaimed the former.
“ They were both here with us day before yes-
terday.” Moresby looked up apparently in
‘great surprise. ‘ I never before met such a
sweet woman or one who impressed me so lov-
ably at first sight. And Mr. Crimmins also: he
was everythin that we could wish. 0h!" fal-
teringly; “if e be indeed lost to us, I don’t
know what we shall do.” '

“ Hold on, my friends I” cried the adventurer,
with seeming impulsiveness. “ It may be that
I can help you out in this seeming embarrass-
ment. In the first place, can ou guess the chief
motive of my errand here to ay i”

N 0; they shook their heads ; and it was, more-
over, sufliciently evident that the confidence
that had once existed between the couple and
the adventurer was a thing of the past.

 

“ I shall have to tell you, then, as a relim—
inary,” continued Moresby, with a well—Simulat-
ed look of shame—facedness, “that it is well
enough you two have broken with me. I will
say it frankly, if self—contemptuous] , I am
body and soul against you, and in the oldkirk
interest.”

“ You say it to our faces, at all events,” cried
Claude, bitterly, while his wife’s lips were com-
pressed. “ There is that much in your favor——
such as it is!"

Moresby submissively bowed his head, the
seeming shame-flush deepening in his dark
cheeks.

“Reprobate me as you will” he said, in a
low voice. “ I deserve it all—I attempt no de-

ense.

“Still, I must give my own reasons for my

baseness, in order to prove to you at least that
I am not here altogether in that man’s corrupt
interest, but also to give you a warning of his
fresh hostile intentions with regard to your-
selves.
“ I wanted Old Grip to promise neutrality in
my designs upon the hand and heart of Blanche
Goldkirk, the banker’s heiress. He refused
point blank. That, in point of fact, was the
subject on which disagreement hinged at our
last meeting. Bravo for the detectivel is your
verdict, as a matter of course. W'ell and good;
I echo it—in the purely personal sense.

“In the worldly sense, I have no longer the
occasion to regret that disagreement.

“I have cornered the banker in his den at
last and with my unaided strength.

“ His dau: hter is already my betrothed wife,
and with his tacit approval; or rather, let me
so without his daring to disapprove."

e aused.

“ ou must have got hold of those letters at
last," suggested Claude. with a sneer.

Moresby gravely bowed.

“ You are right,” he said, without exultation.
“ That is the secret of my success. How I came
by the letters, I am not at liberty to state. I,
however, recognize them as Mrs. Markham’s
propert , and they shall be restored toher ac-
cording y—after my nu tials with Miss Gold-
kirk, which are to take p ace the first of Decem-
ber next.”

When everything was taken into considera-
tion, the seeming frankness of the adventurer
could not but in a great measure commend it-
self to the young couple.

There was much in his admissions which he
might safely have omitted, and with obvious
advanta e to his own figuring in the aflair.
And if it occurred to Maud that she might
secretly warn her former pupil of the sort of
man she was intending to marry, not the less
did the seeming openness of Moresby impress her
in his favor. -

“ We are to understand, then," she said, after
a pause, “that you have agreed to second Gold-
kirk in his continued persecution of my bus-
band and myself, as in some sort the price of his
consent to your marriage?"

“ That is it in a nutshell. But that I do not
intend to live up to the detestable agreement, I
think you will both presently discover when I
make the true cause of my visit here appa-
rent.”

“Thanks in advance!” coolly. “But why
the agreement at all, let me ask, if your pos-
session of the incriminating correspondence has
been sufficient to enforce his compliance with
yp'ugavl’lishes, as you but just declared, or im-

1e
p It was a shrewd question, but Moresby, with
his accustomed cleverness, was equal to it.

“ Pardon me, Mrs. Markham,” he replied
smiling,“but I neither declared nor implied
that my possession of the correspondence had
proved an all-sufficient means to that end.”

“ Oh !” doubtfully.

“ No ; and, to tel the truth, the banker might
still have been di (1 to defy me, at least to
an embarrassing egree, but for my pretended
advocacy of his persecutions against you. as an
additional stopto the Cerberus of his indigna-

tion.

“ Not with the Castro letter among the rest,”
persisted Maud, confidently. “ He wouldn’t
have dared to defy that !"

Moresby's sole reply was a regretful and
deprecatory gesture o the deepest respectful-

ess.
“But why any more of this?” exclaimed
Claude Markham, impatiently. “What fresh
deviltr on the part of that bound is it that
you cairn to be here to warn us against,
oresby'i” .
The adventurer had not come altogether un-
provided for this side game that he was play-

mg.
If the eleven foot was still cunning] con-
cealed, not the less was be determined t at it
should triumph here as elsewhere.
He drew a newspaper from his pocket, and,
without a word, indicated a marked para-

graph.
Both Maude and Claude read it at the same
time, and then dropEed the paper in des air.
“ He’s at his wor again I” exclaim Mark-
ham, hoarsely. “ The villain! the cowardly
devill is there no hope to escape him?”

 

CHAPTER XXXIX
“ N0 ansr FOR. THE Paasuourf’h.”

THE newspaper item was only one of many
similarly inspired by Goldkirk's money and
malice, which, until Within the past fortnight
or so, had continued to dwell from time to time}
upon the disappearance and possible guilt of
Claude Markham, the banker’s whilom rivate
secretary, in connection with the note bank-
roblaery, which was still fresh in the public
min .

This form of persecution had not only been
largely instrumental in prompting the young
man’s flight fibm the city, but had also consti-
tuted one of the most poignant bitternesses of
his enforced seclusion.

The present item was even more alarming
than its predecessors, inasmuch as, after the
usual reference to the crime and the dark stigma.
of suspicion that was still declared to rest upon
the fugitive’s name, it for the first time hazard-
ed a shrewd conjecture as to the locality of his.
place of hiding.

This referred to “ a wild region of Westches-
ter count , a few miles northeast of Chanpa-
qua, not ar from the Connecticut State-line,
and in the vicinity of which the skulker’s wife,
former] a Miss Crust of unknown antecedents,
was un erstood to have been born and bred.”

As for Maud, she was for some moments
speechless after reading this cruel and cowardly
paragraph.

Then she quickly rose, with quivering lip and
the pallor of renewed anguish, but with even
an increase of her accustomed quiet energg.

“ We must go on,” she said, simply. “ ome,
Claude, we must fly hence, and without delay.
Like the wicked, it seems that there is no rest for
the persecuted. No rest, no rest, no rest!” she
repeated, desolately, even while already calcu-
Jutingly bestirring herself for a fresh move into
the hidden and, it was to be hoped, into the un-
known.

“ Outrageous as it is, there is no other re-
course for you I” cried Moresby savagely. “ By
the God of heaven! it is almost too monstrous
for belief. But as soon as my attention was at-
tracted to the item—but an hour before reach-
ing the train, and accidentally at that—I felt
that your last chance for security in this retreat
was at an end.”

“ And you,”interposed Claude Markham, in
a hard, dry voice, “were doubtless as certain
as we are now that the item, like its predeces-
sors, was contrived and inspired by Mr. Bank-
President Goldkirk, your future father-indaw
and resent confederate ?” '

“ od help me, yes—that is, I couldn’t doubt
it!” stammered the adventurer. “ But,” eager-
ly, “ don‘t forget that I am here to warn you in
time! Leave me that mite to my credit,
Claude I"

“ Oh, yes!" he was helping his wife with their
few and simple preparations. “ I sha’n’t forget
this last kindness, Moresby," drearily. “ It
shall be remembered to your credit.”

The adventurer sprung to his feet.

“ But look here," he cried,quite desperately,
“ sha‘n't I be permitted to help you out in some»
way? For instance—don’t be angry, I beseech!
—do you want any money?”

Claude shook his head and appeared to be giv-
ing little heed.

“ Where shall you go?” Moresby cried, again.

“Oh, we’ll manage,” replied the young man,
with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders. “ By'
a sort of good luck, it hap ens that I was born
just over the border in onnecticut yonder.
And there are as wild and unfrequented rocks.
over in the Nutmeg State there as hereabouts,
I fancy."

“ That will be well. The detectives and re-
porters will at least have more trouble in huntr
in you up in a different State.”

No reply was made. ‘ '

The simple preparations were soon made.

Half an hour later, the house was locked up,
and the restrseekers were seated in their light
wagon, with their stout Canadian pony eager
tobe off up the stee rocky road to the east-
ward, and the ,rea r rt of their personal
ba gage stowed ehind t em.

he cow was to be left behind, it was true,’

but there was fodder and water to spare in her
pasture-lot, and they might succeed in getting
a price for her at one or another of the lonely
milk—farms they would necessarll pass.

They would have liked to see oses, the Her-
mit, before going, but he had been mooning
somewhere OR in the hills all day, and there
was no time to look him up now.

“ Good-by, Mr. Moresby,
Maud called out. “ We sha n’t forget.”

Claude uttered something to the same effect,
and away they rattled up he stony road.

Moresby remained by the road-gate, silently
and motionlessly watching them until they had
disappeared over the rise.

Then, as if poasessed by a sudden paroxysm

of furious self-contempt, he stamped upon the

ground and shook his clinched hands in the air,
raving forth incoherent oaths, epithets and dis-
jointed words. '

“ What infernal madness and idiocy is this?”
he exclaimed at last, while slowly recover-mes
his self-control. “ How strangely I have 10V

and thank you!" _.'

 

l
l

 

.,..

.and different

01d Grip’s Still Hunt.

25

 

those two, and how my heart, or what decency
may be left in its blackness, goes out to them
now!

i

No matter ” with a last oath and stamp l

of the foot; “ Goldkirk shall be brought to book 2
for it all, curse him! or there is no virtue in ‘
i

the thumb-screw of blackmail.”
He hurriedly led out his hired horse, climbed
into the buggy, and, with scowling brow and

set teeth, set out on his return drive at a break- ‘

neck pace, notwithstanding the dangerousness
of the road.,

He had not proceeded far, however, when a
shrill, sharp whippoorwill call rung out so
startlingly from a hemlock clump he was pass-
ingI as to cause his horse to swerve and rear.

e pulled up just as a giant and wild figure
-—-the figure of the Wild Shoemaker of W hip—

oorwill—sprung into the road, waving one
and wild! , and with the other clutching his
longBtripo ofastick. .

“ ehold l”shouted the apparition, with weird
solemnity of mien. “It is written, man of
blood, it is written that thou ma st read!”

And he pointed with his for ed stick to a
broad-sided rock, half~hidden b the thicket-
border, upon which was blazone in fresh red
letters the words: “ Vasonanca Is MINE, AND
I WILL REPAY 1"

Bold and fearless as he was. the adventurer,
who had never seen nor heard of this strange
wanderer before, had to confess to being not a
little startled at first, though he quickly burst
into an angry laugh.

“Who the deuce are you?” he roared; “and
what do you mean b startling my horse in this
scandalous manner? carecrow! out of my road,
or I'll lash you out of it!”

A derisive eldritch lau h was his response.

“Son of Beliali woul st scoff at the Lord’s

rophet?” screamed the Hermit. “ Behold again!
. or ét’is written, man of blood, that thou mayst

.rea .

He pointed again, this time across the road,
to another rock-face, inscribed with the letters
in blue: “Wear AVAILETH a MAN THOUGH an
GAINETH THE WHOLE WORLD, IF an LOSETH
HIS own SOUL?”

“ Out I say I” cried Moresby, half-beside him-
self, and snatching the whip menacineg out of
its ket. “ Shall I have to tell you again?”

p went the lash, but in the twinklin of an
eye, and before it could descend, one of t 9 Her-
mit’s long. windmill-like arms reached into the
buggy and tore him out of it as if he were no
more 'than a wooden efil , while the horse,
gri ped by the bitts, was rought to a stand
wit such a tremendous 'erk, wrench and twist
combined that he seeme fairly paralyzed with
impotence and fear, and could only stop still
an tremble like an aspen.

 

CHAPTER XL.
rim summarize SET-BACK.

FOR the first time in his life Jud J ellifle, alias
Moresby, alias Montalbert,et ah, the fearless
and champion master-rogue, experienced what
Old Grip himself had once experienced before
him—how utterly im tent an helpless he was
in the grasp of Moses rust, the Wild Shoemaker
of Whip orwill.

True, e had the advantage of his detective
' redecessor in there being no giddy Devil’s
‘ rge near at hand, but, muscular and agile as
he was, he was no more than a doll in that go-
rilla-like clutch.

“ Ha, ha, ha!” roared the Hermit. “ Ho ho,
ho! How are the mighty cast down, and ow-
are the lowly exalted i”

“ Curse you ll’snarled Moresby, still retaining
:his presence of mind; “ you shall pay for this! ’

By this time he did not doubt but that he was
being tackled ebiy a most dangerous and irre-
sponsible escap lunatic.

Managing to wrench his right arm free, after
a moment of deceptive qluiescence, the next in-
stant his revolver was 0 apped against his an-
ta onist’s side, and dischargfid.

ot, however, before the ermit had evaded
the bullet by a lightning-like twist of his supple
and snake-like frame. '

Then, still shouting forth his pious uotations
and injunctions, Moses fairly shock is victim
like a rat, and at last, looking up out of his
helplessness, Moresby beheld a spectacle that
mi ht well have a palled the stoutest heart.

vague professiona canvas-bag, which Moses
carried upon his person as a soldier would his
haverswck, had become disarranged, so that its
contents, newly-captured serpents of all sizes
kinds were swarming out over
his neck, head and s oulders in the most start-
ling and hideous manner conceivable.

“ He] 1 help !” shoutedthe adventurer, proba-
blyfor he first time in his varied and checkered
career. .

Luckily, the pistol-shot had quickened the
pace of several countrymen who happened to be

riving in the direction of the scenein a lumber-
.box wagon, drawn by two horses.

They now put ‘ln an appearance and in
obedience to their cries, Moses released his vic-
tim, after first snatching the revolver out of his

grasp.

 

Moresby was pale, but collected.

“Hel me seize the fellow l" he called out,
while t e Hermit ha-haed and ho~hoed to the
top of his hollow voice afresh. “ He must be an
esca ed madman."

“ h, no, sir, he isn’t,” laughed one of the
new—comers. “ He be pairfectly harmless, be
old Moses Crust.”

“ Harmless? I’d like to know what you call
dangerous then!”

But Moreshy had cau ht at the name.

“ Crust?” he repea . “ Is that this wild
man’s name?"

“ Yes, sir," one of the others went on to ex—
plain. ‘ He be Moses Crust, the snakecatcher,
or, as we mostly call him in these arts, the
Wild Shoemaker of Whippoorwill. en’t that
so Moses?”

But the Hermit, having returned his snakes
to their confinement, had relapsed into a
quiescent attitude, and was now regarding the
grou with a dreamy stare.

“ ive the gentleman back his popper,
Moses," called out one of the men. “ No wonder
he drawed it on ye in his startlement, but he
wouldn’t use it ag in’ ye now, I’ll be bound."

The adventurer had by this time brushed
some of the road-dust from his arments, and
“gas pretty well alive to the mean ng of the situ-
a ion.

The Hermit indifferently tossed back the
weapon, and then, foldin his arms, be 11 to

out Scripture in his disconnected an ram-
b ing way.

Moresby thanked the new arrivals for their
timely interference, and then drew a little
a art with the more intelligent-appearing one
o the party. -

“ Is the wild man’s name Crust, did you say?”
he asked.

“Yes, sir Moses Crust; and he have been a
roamer and text-plasterer through old West-
chester and hereabouts in Whippoorwill longer
than I can well remember.”

“ There was a young lad , a Miss Crust, also
from these parts, I believe i'

“ Oh, yes, sir! that were Miss Maud who has
lately o ned the old Haunted House again back
up you er."

“ Thank oul”

Moresb hen lost no further time in clamber-
lng back nto his carriage, whose horse had for
a wonder abstained from runnin away, and
drivin on, after leavinga dollar With his infor-
mant or the purpose of treating himself and
companions at the most convenient tavern.

However, his horse was now somewhat fro-
Ward and balk y.

He had not proceeded more than a mile at an
exasperatingl slow pace, before he was startled
afresh by a so emn voice enjoining him to “ re-

ent or be damned " almost at his ve ear, and

here was the indefatigable Hermit o the rocks
stalking at the side of the carriage with long
swinging strides.

A sudden idea occurred to Moreshy.

Pulling up, he turned amiably to the Hermit,
ilwhod also came to a pause, and extended his

an .

But Moses only stared in his wild way, and
waved the proflered hand to one side.

“Between the Lord’s prophet and the man of
blood there can be no good will!” he exclaimed,
impressively.

‘ How do you know that I am a man of
blood?” asked the adventurer, quietly.

“ To the prophetof the Lord nothing is vailed,”
replied Moses, sententiously, but in his vague
way, as if addressing himself to invisible mul-
titudes rather than to any one in particular.
“ And what is writ is writ. ’

“ You should not have treated me so uncere
moniously, friend. I had newly separated from
your sister Maud and her husband, with whom

was once most friendly.”

A more human interest leaped into the staring
and ' ed face.

“ know, I know i” cried the Hermit. “What
is there unknown or obscure to the prophet of
the Lord? From mine eagle’s eyrie upon the
lofty rock did I view them wander away the
weary, the unresting,the persecuted ones. Man
of blood, it must have been thy deed, or the
deed of thy companion devil, the banker-fiend.
Beware! beware!”

How could the wild man have divined this?
Moreshy,thou hthe most incredulous of mor-
tals began to eel a superstitious thrill.

“ ll‘riend, you are mistaken,” he said, with
forced calmness. “ I still hold those haplesstwo
in good-will."

Without replying by other than a shake of his
weird head, oses ifted his gaunt arms on high
with a grand and impressive gesture.

“ Beware!” he repeated loudly. “Man of
blood, thy fate, the retribution of Heaven, is
u on thee. How braver thou goest forth out
0 this, God’s wilderness, into the great city,
man’s mighty hell. But thou goest to thy
death. Not another sun shall shine upon thee
in thy life and pride. It is written. Repeat,
repent!"

And, with a last flourish of the gaunt arms, a
last glare of the fiery e es, the Wild Shoemaker
of Whippoorwill da into a roadside thicket
and was seen no more.

 

CHAPTER XLI.
THE HERMIT’s PROPHECY.

LONG after this adventure, even when he was
comfortably resented in the smoking-car of the
city—bound train, Moresby—Montalbert found
himself dwelling upon the incidentwith gloomy
and erslstent distaste.

“ 'hat could the crazy giant have meant?”
be repeated over and over to himself. “Even
the ancient writers, as I have read in the
stran e old works they have left, believed or af-
fecte to believe that the insane were Vested
with the gift of prophec . And how, more-
over, could that ragge hill -tramper have
known of my connection with Goidkirk—so re-
cent at that—without an unearthly intuition or
divination of some sort! Bah! I must be grow-
inglflighty myself.”

6 ighted a fresh cigar, and strove to in—
tel-est himself in a. magazine article, but in
vain.

Then he accepted an invitation from a trio of
well-appearing, young fellows to make u a
eucher party, ut with no better success tgan
before in driving away the haunting unpleas-
antness.

Even the semblance of gambling—formerly
a ruling passion with him—could not dissipate
the vision of that gaunt. ragged, J ohn-the-
Baptist—like :roadside apparition, nor revent
those hoarse seemingly prophetic wor s from
ringing, knell-like, in is ears.

It was not later than dusk when he reached
the city, with a budgeted, Self-contemptuous
feeling and still with that adventure haunting
him with a persistence that would not be de-
nied.

Hours must get elapse before he would be
expected with is report in the luxurious re-
treat at the top of the bank building.

He ate a hearty dinner at the restaurant of
the Grand Union Hotel, and then, sauntering
to his rooms, on ged himself in an elaborate
im rovement of is toilette.

hould he not go for a love-chat with
Blanche Goldkirkf

No; the thought was as distasteful as any-
thing else that could occur to him.

At last in order to consume two or three
hours, he headed for the nearest taro hell.

It was years since he had been familiar with
games of chance.

Indeed, not the least of the contradictory
strengths that went toward the making up of
this remarkable character was an iron resolu-
tion which had enabled him to shake off com-
pletely both the gamblingland drinking habits,
each of which in its turn ad bade fair to drag
him to perdition in his earlier years.

But now he played as a last resource, for ob-
livion, for forgetfulness, if ossible, of those
hateful last prophetic words t at were ringing
and thrilling through his mentality like a death-
bell chime.

He played like a madman without sense or
system, and, as is so often the case with blind
luck, as it is called, won steadily, persistently
and without a break.

The red and white ivor) counters rew into a
formidable pyramid before him, an a stack of
coins and bank-notes were equally eloquent as
to his good-fortune in the matter of side-bets.

The other gamesters gave up their play in or-
der to become the silent, wondering spectators
of this outwardly collected, dark-brewed, iron-
iawed, handsome man, a stranger to most,
“buck the tiger ” with a cool disregard of the
possible unsheathing of the avenging claws and
an unvaryin success that challenged their ad-
miration no ess than their envy.

It was what is known as a square game- that
is, one in which the bank’s percentage is alegit—
imately extortionate one and where the players
have a faraway host of a chance against it.

At last the dea er ceased operating the cards,
and, as the phenomenal “ bucker ” looked, made
a smiling but significant si n.

Montalbert had broken t e bank. .

He rose mechanically, cashed in his checks
and pocketed his side winnings—a total of some-
thing over ten thousand dollars—with the
methodical precision of an old hand, and strode
out of the hell in a sort of dream, with the Her-
mit’s solemn words still murmuring in his brain
their wild enunciation:

“ Thou goest to thy death! Not another sun
shall shine u on thee in thu life and pride, It
is written. fiepent, repent!"

It was not far from the midnight hour, and he
had not heeded or cared to iced that he had
been followed from the dealer’s table by a trio
of well-dressed but sinister-visaged, desperate-
looking men.

As he was still threading the lonely, deserted
cross street, with the intention of securing a
hansom or coupé, suddenly and silently they
fell upon him, “hillies” or loaded canes in

hand.
But they had mistaken their prospective

re .

p The haunting) fear-words vanished into air,
and the inborn rave in the adventurer’s nature
—as betokened by “the assassin’s e e, thegladi-
ator‘s heart ”—was to the fore as if y thetouch.
of a warrlonenchanter’s wand.

26

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

45

 

Hot Wouldn’t have used his revolver in any
even .

Swiftiy, silent as the three—fold attack itself,
a long keen poniard glittered in his hand; he
seem to avoid the raining and brutal blows
as if by a sort of writhing, gliding, ser entine
intuition: at the same time an activity 0 super-
natural deadliness seemed to animate his power-
ful frame from crown to toe the knife flashing
and falling murderously and with the rapidity
of as many succeeding lightning-strokes.

In less time than has taken to tell it two of
his assailants were bleeding and senseless on the
ground, and the third was limpingly taking to
his heels, hand on highs if a trail of blood might
be likew1se markingM is flight.

A grim joy filled ontaIbert’s breast as, bend-
in over the nearest of the prostrate men, he in-
di erentl y wiped his dagger upon the fellow’s

arments and returned it to its concealed sheath
in his bosom, himself unscathed.

The haunting words had gone, probably to re—
turn no more~dispelled forever, no doubt, by
the shock of murderous and triumphant conten—
tion—and the adventurer was himself again.

“ To the deuce with prophesies l” he muttered
contemptuously. “ Man of blood I may be—
gad! it would be waste of breath to deny it just
now, I fancy—but, if this is the doom t at was
predicted for me, i rather think ‘ another sun
shall yet shine upon me in my life and ride.m

Wholly indifferent to the motionless espera—
does at his feet, as to whether the breath of life
might be in them or not, he strode to a neigh—
boring street-lamp, where he carefully in ected
his person to make sure that not a tell-ta e spot
or sprinkle of blood had marred his immaculate
exterior.

Satisfied upon this point, he glanced at his
watch, strolled leisurely, humming an operatic
air, to the nearest Broadway corner, and, si -
nalmg a disengaged cab, sprung lightly into it
with the necessary instructions.

TWelve of the night—“the Witching hour of
night, when churchyards yawn ”—was just be-
ing boomed solemnly forth from the steeple-
tower of grand Old Trinity when, havin dis-
missed his cab and rung the bell, the side ase-
ment door of the Occidental Bank buildin was
cautiously opened, as on the preceding nig t by
Mr. Goldkir himself in response to the adven-
turer’s summons.

CHAPTER XLII.
ON THE THRESHOLD.

Mouransnar was in a high state of satisfac-
tion With himself, while the banker was anti-
thetically reserved and moody, though appar-
ently well in hand and good-naturedly expec-
taut.

“ Have you secured the missing letter?” was
the latter’s eager first question, in a low, anx-
ious voice, the moment they were in the base-
ment together.

“ Ay, that have I, my beaut l” was the jovial-
ly mendacious response,as ontalbert lightly
stepped after him into the elevator cabinet,
wh ch straightway, at the touch of Mr. Gold-
kirk’s hand ripen the controlling cord, be nits
noiseless,in ing rise throu h the vast, g oomy
em tiness of the shaft. “ uta trucetoshop-
tel at resent! I am buoyant asa bird ust
now an must have my priming of that lo ous
old Amontilado of yours before I ever think' of
an ht else.”

, he banker smiled strangely in the imperfect
ligliit, but made no immediate answer.

e, also, had some cause for feeling in a some-
what im roved humor with himself.

He h that day received a letter from Mon-
tevideo announcin the sudden death by apo-
plexy of J ellifle, ot erwise Castro, his erstwhile
partner in the crime which had been the much!»
mar of his subsequent life.

This not onl relieved him of further hush-
money in that irection, but, with that one ill-
advised threatenin letter back in his
sion, would preciu e the possibility of outal-
bert securing fresh incriminating evidence of a
personal nature as to his former crime as the
adventurer had indirectly menaced w on so
unexpectedly declaring himself the son of the

expat tedman.
What!” cried Montalbert, gayly: “ you are
once, more your own master of ceremonies, I

see.

“ Yes ” replied the banker, shortly.

“ Ano er wedding spree on the part of our
sable colossus, eh i”

“ No, no! but the rascal was solicifous enough
for another ni ht off—probably the after-effects
of the nu tie. festivities, you know. Ha ha,
hai—and didn’t object, seeing that our busi—
ness might still be rformed to the best ad-
vantage in private— the strictest privacy, for
that matter.”

“ Yes yes; to be sure!”

And then, a few minutes later, they were once
more in the sum nous and cozy buflet—room,
the cheery canne coal at their knees, the table
with it: festive burden between them.

“ You are late 1” commented the banker,
patiently. “ I expected ou much earlier. ’

“ Oh, you did?’ and ontalbert eyed him
curiously, while helping himself to the sherry
and lighting a cigar.

 

im-

/

 

“Yes,” still irritably. “ You don‘t mean to
say that you have only just returned from that
hole up in Westchester?”

“ Why, no, Papa Goldkirk!” still curiously
though with imperturbably good humor; “ I
don’t mean to say anything in particular!”

“ But where have you been Since your return
thence?”

“ Playing faro, and bursting the bank,”
laconically.

And then, laughing lightly, the adventurer,
to the wonder [of his host, began emptying his
various pockets of his Winnings, until the table,
or such of it as wasn‘t occupied by the salver
and its contents, stacked high with bank-notes
and coins, chiefly gold—an opulent and tempt-
inépile.

oldkirk — who had a morbid horror of
Chance, notwithstanding his secret and persist-
ent worship at the shrine of her kindred divin-
ity, that of Bacchus— looked on in mingled
amazement and pleasure.

“ Bless me I" he exclaimed. “ Why, Mont-
albert, you must be the very pet of Fortune!”

“Never had much to complain of the old
girl’s treatment,” was the smiling admission.

“ But all that money! How much is there in
the heap?”

“ Not much. A trifle over ten thousand at a
rough count.”

“ Ten thousand! And you burst the faro
bank you say?”

“ Clean as a whistlei”

“ And how long did it take you to acquire
this eat sum i”

“ here was the rub,” discontentedly. “ You
see, five hundred was the stake limit—a baga-
telle! As a consequence, I was nearly two
hours in making them cry Pecccwi. No am-
bling worth the trouble this side of onte
Carlo!"

Goldkirk’s amazement continued.

“ Ten thousand dollars in two hours!” he ex-
claimed. .

Then, turning his eyes resolutely away from
the attractive heap, a peculiar expression of re-
serve came into his face, which was not lost up-
on his quick-witted companion.

“ Don’t be uneasy, Pa a Goldkirk,” said the
latter, reassuringly. “ y gambling, like my
drinking, days are long dea follies.

The banker looked up with a start. It is al-
ways more or less startling to have your
thoughts divined before being uttered; though
the adventurer‘s penetration was only half-
through in the present instance.

Montalbert laughed heartily, while tossing ofl
and replenishing his glass in the airy way that
distinguished him.

“ Don’t be alarmed, I tell you I" he r ted.
“ Diable I save an occasional penchtm for a
horse-race, my wild cats are sown and reaped.
It isn’t among such follies, man beau pére, that
your disti uished son-in—law will make our
money fly w en la. petite fille charmante is is.”

The banker seemed to swallow something with
diflflculty, as was his ocoasional habit when
sorely ushed, though he did not make the mis-
take 0 giving way to his irritability a sin.

“You are a little out. Montalbert,” e said.
pleasantly. “ I wasn’t thinking just then of
that' or at least, not altogether.’

“ Pardonnez moi monsieurl And what else
then if I may be allowed ”

n This is what struck me,” said Goldkirk,
smiling. “ Why you should care to marry my
daughter for her money is what I can’t under-
stand, when you have the nerve and ability to
make such can 8 at the gammg-table. It is in-
com rehensib e to me I”

“ t needn’t be,” coolly. “It is you now that
iare Lout,’ and altogether out, in your prom-

see.

arise" s. I. . mm,

at e rstp , ontcareto our
(1821‘! hte: for her money, but—for yours.’ y

“Yes; I like the girl, you see. Why, Pa a
Goldkirk, our freshness surprises me. In fac ,”
laughing, ‘it never seems to tire of furnishing
me with new little surprises.”

“ Ah, indeed!”

“ Exactly.”

“ But how so?”

“ Wh , bless your refreshin simplicity, Papa
Goldkir ! do you think I we burden or bore
myself with possessing the girl if I didn’t like
her, when I could have all our money I want
on demand just as well w thout as with the

“ Oh! ah! hnthl Pretty good! I had al-
most forgotten. a, ha, ha I”

“ In the next place ” continued Montalbert,
“ yen are out to a. still greater degree. Chance
is a treacherous mistress—a capricious jade!
Such coups as mine of this evening are no com-
moner than for lightning to strike hand-running
in the same place. Blind luck stood by me to-
night, where cooler and more methodical play
might have drained the to my last scudt'. So
there you are, Papa Goldkirk !’ complacently.

CHAPTER XLIII.
. mro rim msrnams.
Gotnxmx, who had sunk into a sort of irrita-
ble reverie, suddenly looked up.

 

 

“ You said you had got the missing letter?” he
abru tly demanded.

“ ig t!” lazily.

“Well, well!” rubbing his hands feverishly;
“ that isn’t bad, Montalbert.”

“ Should say it wasn’t!”

“Why don t you show it to me?” Goldkirk
burst out at last, almost beside himself with im-
patience.

Montalbert laughed indifferently.

“ Look here, Papa Goldkirk, that’s a pretty
important letter—by far the most important of
the whole pack.”

“ Man alive! do you think I don’t know that?”

“ But I couldn’t help impressing it on your
mind, you know.”

“ I don’t want it im ressed—good God! there
is no need,” cried Grol kirk, half-frantic.

“ Besides,” continued the adventurer, reflect-
ively, “ when a man goes to great trouble and
pains to secure a valuable prize, you know, he is
naturally jealous of its ossession. Now your
own experience ought to ear me out in that.”

With a deadly look, which it was a misfor-
tune for Montalbert that he failed to notice, the
bank-president sprung to his feet and began to
pace the floor like a caged tiger.

“ Why don’t you exhibit the letter to me?”
he cried, wildly. “You promised you would!
How am I to know that you are not deceiving
me-that you really have secured the letter, if
you won’t show it to me?” ,

Montalbert, under his careless demeanor, was
anxiously considering.

Of course he couldn‘t exhibit what he didn’t
have, and his chief concern was to retain the
banker in the belief that he was in possession of
the letter in the teeth of his necessary failure
to rovide it.

atal miscaleulation! How near mi ht the-
Hermit’s prophecy be already to its fuifl lmentl
Undreaming as to the toils of his own uncon—.
scious weavmg, the adventurer had overstepped
the threshold of his fate in crossing the si 1 of
that far—down basement door, and his next blun—
daring, though seemingly well-advised, step
might carry him on, beyond, into the mysteries
the solution of which it is not given to any man.
to make!

“ Really there is no hurry about this matter,
Papa Goldkirk,” Montalbert drawled out, after
a tantalizing pause. “ The letter is no longer
with our enemies, but with me, Montalbert

our riend, your idolized daughter's husband.”
6 lapghed again. “ Think of that, and be con-
tent.
Goldkirk suddenly wheeled upon him in a.
white wrath.

“Are you oing to show me the letter,”he
cried, choking y, ' or are you not?"

The adventurer looked at him with sudden
suspicion and surprise.

‘ I don’t know whetherI am or not,” he re-
plied, bluntly.

The banker seemed to master his rage by an
immense eflort. .

“ All right 1” and he plum himself down in
his easy—chair afresh. “ 1 course you won’t.
show it to me, simply because you haven’t got it.
toshow. This is the truth I ave been fishing,
for all along,” contemptuously‘, “ and I am sat-
isfled at last—though not wit numerous false
nibbles at the hook, I must confess.”

This would never do.

“ What!”

And Montalbert burst into a. derisive laugh
whichI under cooler circumstances, Goldkirk
would have erceived to be forced.

“Oh, yes ” with assumed unconcern; “you' .

“may try to laugh it off in that way, but it won’t
go down with me.”

“ 0h, Papa Goldkirk l”

“ The detective was ri ht from the beginning.
The Markhams did not ave the letters—never
had—not one of them—and you were doubtless
not long in discovering the truth.”

“ Ha, ha, ha!"

“ Look you—you J eilifle l”with sudden change
of tone and manner which caused the adven-
turer to wince in 3 its of himself; “ I‘have been
a coward andafoo Even your half-power over
me is fictitious.”

“ Humph!” and Montalbert assumed his cold .
hard tone. “ Better not tempt me to prove i .

I!

real.

“ But a half-power, after all! Without that
Castro letter in your possession (your assent
attitude or I don’t know what I am lking
about), I could afford to defy you.”

“ Fish! on would not dare, even then.”

“Woul n‘tI? And what other string would
you have to your how, if]

“ My blood relations
Castro, for one thing, since you persist in fol-
lowing out your absurd hypothesis. Monte-v
video and a paternal confesSion are far away,
but are not unattainable.”

The banker burst into a contemptuous laugh.

“ Read that!” And, producing a letter from.
his ket, he tossed it over the table.

ontalbert read it with genuine consternation
for the moment.

“ Deng?" he exclaimed.

Goldkirk coldly took back the letter, and re»
turned it to his pocket.

“ (lustre—my father

ray?”
ip with Jellifle, alias-

 

 

2'7

 

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

“Bowstrings are sometimes like fiddle-

strings,” he sneered—“ liable to snap when least .

ex ectedl”

gut the adventurer had already recovered his
sublime assurance, with every one of his facul-
ties sharpened and alert. ‘

“ Pshaw l” he said, With such admirably-
assumed indifference and ennui as to deceive
the banker afresh.

“ The dead are dead, and the world is for the
living—and the strong. The old story of the
survival of the fittest; the old age-long strug le,
in which the strong win and the weak go to he
wall. You infernal, senile, self-sufficient old
fool l” with scathing disdain. “ All the letters
are in my possession l” he produced the packet,
which someho .v, at least to the banker’s distem—

ered imagination, looked a shade thicker than
efore. “ Here they are!” he flourished them
contemptuously under the other’s nose while
still keeping a firm clasp upon them. “ ut do
you imaginel would be such an idiot as to trust
he gem of the lot—the ke to your worldly and
social damnation—into t 056 eager, trembling
hands of yours? All here, Irepeat! Down on

your knees, and sue for mercy! Or I shall be T

tempted to orget that you are the father of the
girl who is presently to be my slave,no less than
yourself.” And, with a harsh dry laugh, he
picked up the decanterwith his disengaged hand
to our himself some more wine.

oldkirk had turned ghastly pale, after which
he recovered himself so completely as to be al-
most smiling. '

He was nervously flipping in one hand his
delicate gold tooth-pick, which suddenly, as if
by accident, flew out of his hand with a snap
to somewhere behind the table and the great
easi—chair in which the adventurer was lolling
bac , his erfectly trowsered legs spread easily
to the gra eful cannei-coal blaze.

“ Do you hear?” cried the latter looking up
with his insolent sneer while balancing the
glassto his lips. “What have you to say for
yourself?”

“A moment, just a. moment!” was the per-
fectly natural and rather obsequious reply.
“ My toothpick l” I

He got up lilurriledly, and) wtent behinld his

est stoo i is e es en peering -
gird the fl‘dolig vyvhile they other, tilting back his
head, slowly ingurgitated the wine.

Suddenly an silently Goldkirk rose behind
him, in his hand, notthe toothpick, but a heavy
short-handled sledge—hammer—deliberatel ap-
propriated from a plumber’s kit in the ank
cellar, and concealed there under the table
hours before—on his face a terrible expression:

Crash! fell the heavy weapon, crushing in
the entire back of the victim’s head.

The adventurer stru ledto his feet, but only
to drop lifeless, and again and again the deadly
hammer rose and fell.

He had gone to his death in his life and his

ride, and the next sun would not shine upon
his confident crest.

The Hermit’s prophecy was fullfllled.

CHAPTER XLIV.
can our AGAIN ro rim roam.

Ar noon of the second day followingfipon the
tragic incident of our last chapter, 1 Grip,
who was by this time feeling pretty well recov—
ered from the poisoning he had received. and
who was, moreover, heartily tired of the rigid
seclusion he had practiced, in orderto has up
the impression of his death on the part 0 the
adventurer of whose taking off he could not as
yet have the slightest intimation, was treated
to several surprises.

In the first place, Cheese-it made his appear-
ance at luncheon with a settled gloom upon his
impish and eerie little face. .

‘ Nothing new yet?” he replied to looks of in-
quiry from both Luella. and her husband.
“Laundry sto ped again: all hands clamoring
for their pay;  Griscom still absent; Peters
declares hat Moresby’s rooms are still empty,
his bed not having been slept in for two mghta.
M story in mm qua.” .

he mystery, as thus outlined by the boy, was
now in t a second do of its existence, With no
signs of a possible so ution.

01d Grip and his wife exchanged hopeless
glances.

“ You saw Peters. then?” asked the detective.

“ Yes, boss,” replied the boy. “ Dick Mores-
by and he have been mooning about the work—
room: all the morning, trying to talk ho fully
to the iris, the Chinamon and the rest, at to
mighty ittle purpose, seeing as how they don’t
seem to believe w at they preach.”

“ Did you ask him the question I gavevyoui”

" Oh, es, boss! I had forgotten. He told me
to say 1: t you mi ht put in an appearance
there, he thought, w thout the slightest chance
of encountering Moresby, and in that way giv-
ing away your secret.” .

‘ Ah! so he is under the impression that
Moresby has for some reason taken alarm and
cut his stick, eh i” .

“ He doesn't seem to know what to think,
boss. But then, I’m sure he feels retty certain
that we’ve seen the last of the swell for
some time to come. ”

l “ Has he ventured to call on Goldkirk yet in
search of information?"

“ Not yet; he thought it better to wait and
consult with you first.”

“ What does the engineer think l”

“ He won’t say one way or another.
mum as ever."

“ Humphl that is a young man that I must
take in hand.”

Accordingly, Old Grip accompanied Cheese-it
to the laundry building directly after lunch.

The machinery was all at a standstill, and a
number of the employees, mostly hard-working
young women, were hanging disconsolately
about the doors giving the place that forlorn
and desolate look of an extensive and suddenly
shut~down employment which has theretofore
furnished a. living to a large number of per-
sons.

Sad as the case was, Old Grip could offer no
encouragement to the many anxious and inquir-
ing pairs of eyes, some of them with u. distress—
in 1y hungry look, that were turned upon him.

caving Cheese-it at the main entrance, he
made his way through the silent and deserted
first- floor ironing-room to the oflice, where he
found Peters and the engineer making a rather
melancholy lunch off a pitcher of beer, with
some crackers and cheese.

Peters jumped to his feet and cordially
grasped the detective by the hand, but the en-
gineer stolidl continued his lunch, scarcely so
much as look ng u .

Old Grip signe the former to silence, and
then planted himself in a seat directly facing
the younger man, whose face and build be
critically studied.

“ You are not Moresby’s brother any more
than I am l” he present y said, with startling
abruptness.

The young man looked up with a slight start,
but without losing his composure.

“ You say so,"he grunted, with his mouth
half full of cheese, and turning out a fresh
glass of beer.

“ But are you?”

“ No 1” after a deliberate pause, punctuated by
the draining of his glass,

“ Are you any relation to Moresbyl”

H Yes.”

“ What i”

“ His half-brother.

Then the engineer, who was something of a
cool card in his way, calmly masticated his last
mouthful, finished off the pitcher, and, putting
his hands on his hips, faced his interlocutor
with a resolute look, which was also not with-
out an element of sturdy frankness.

“ Look here, Mr. Detective,” said he, “ there
isn’t any particular mystery about me what-
ever there may have been about Jud .lelliife,
my half-brother, who was the real and sole
proprietor of this establishment, as he probably
is still, if not dead, which I can hardly believe
--not yet, at least. Now, until this mystery of
his disa pearance is cleared up one way or an-
other, t are are some things that I am willing
to enlighten you on and others that I am not.
Now, with this understanding, cut away with
your conundrums, if you choose. You'll find
meneither a parrot or a mule, as the case may

e.
“ Thank on for your frankness, at all
events," sai the detective. who be an to like
the y0% fellow. “ I shall begin right away,
then. at is your real name?”

“ Dick J elliife.” '

“ Henry Moresby, otherwise Judson Jellifle,
and you had the same father. then?”

“By diflerent mothers. Correct.”

“ Tell me somethin about your father.”

“Don’t know muc . Ran away from home
when a boy. Henry came across me accidental-
ly two years ago in London. Have been with
him ever since, without knowing much about
him. Last heard of m father in South
America. Was living in ontevideo under as
sumed name of Castro.”

Castro 1 The detective fairly caught his
breath. This was, of course, his first intima-
tion that the writerlof the gem-letter of the
ion ed-for correspondence and the father of
Ju Jellifl'e, alias Moresby, were one and the
same. He also now began to remember some
old police matters in connection with those

Sly and

names. -
“Your father was George Jellifle?” be con-
tinued.
,“Ever heard of him having to cut and run
from New York, years ago, for a series of for-
cries?”
“Never knew he had evan lived in New
York.”
“ Have you any idea where your half-brother
now is i"
“ If I had, I wouldn’t- tell you.”
“ Do you think him dead?
“Possible, but not likely.”
“Do on think he might have taken some
secret arm and run away i”
“ Don’t think anything about it.”
“Have you any idea of his movements for,

say two da 9 at!”
“'None.  ever concerned m It with
his movements, he would have kick me out of

 

my employment, besides breaking my head.”

\

 

“ Have you any idea of Mrs. Griscom’s where-
abouts?”

“ No more than I have of J ud’s.”

“ Do you know where she lived?”

“ No; nor does any one else know. She
seemed to come from and go to nowhere. Was
even more of a mystery in that respect than was
‘Moresby ’himself.”

This was a truth, as Old Grip had already
learned from Cheese—i t.

“ That will do, Dick," said the detective, after
a ause. “I thank you kindly.”

‘omething in his manner seemed to strike the
young man agreeably.

As he was about quitting the oflice, he turned,
hesitated, and then said:

“ Look here, friend! I’ll give you a pointer—
one, and only one. Here it is: ou’ll never see
the old forewoman, Mrs. Griscom, again, unless

ou see ‘ Moresby ’ again.”

“ What did he mean by that?” asked Old Grip,

with a mystified air, when the engineer had dis-
appeared.
‘ I’m blessed if I know i” replied Peters.
“ Dick was far deeper into the puzzle hereabouts
than I was over permitted to be; though Mores-
by trusted me considerably in certain ways.

“ But tell me, Mr. Crimmins, shall you ven-
ture to interview Mr. Goldkirki”

“ Yes; this evening."

“ I wish you would come with me now then-
I’ve been harder to work on my own hook than
these folks around here have any notion of.”

“ All right, Mat, my man.”

Manchester Mat accordingly led him straight»
down into the cellar, and thence, after procur—
ing a lighted lantern, into the bottom of the
memorable pit, by a more indirect route, which
included many sharp and unexpected turns.

The door leading into the tunnel was open,
and the man continued to guide him on into this
until they came to a point on the right-hand
side where much of t e masonry was freshly
torn away, a pick, spade, crowbar and heaps of'
debris lying near the break.

“ Your work i” asked the detective.

“ To what end i”

“ To discover Moresby’s secret hiding-place
his; his bank plunder and perhaps other valu-
a es.

 

CHAPTER XLV.
THE nurserivn’s FRESH SURraIsss.

THEN, in response to the detective’s look of .
curious inquiry, Peters said:

“ This thing demands a little explanation.
About ten days a o, I was exploring this under-
ground passage n Moresby’s company (never
mind for what linrpose) from pit to river front,
I being in the sad, lanternin one hand, short
crowbar inthe other.

“Suddenly I stumbled over an inequality in
the ground, and went flat, retaining hold of the
lantern, but the crowbar flying out of my

gr! .

‘PAs the bar did so, I noticed that it struck,.
before falling to the ground, against the right
side of the masonry at a. certain point that gave‘
back a stran ely hollow sound.

“‘ By Jup terl’says I, scrambling to my feet;
‘ there might be a concealed niche or chamber
in there somewhere. It sounded that way.’

“ Moresb exclaimed, with an oath, that the»
idea was a surd, and he did so with such un-i
laccessory vehemence that I turned to look at?

im.

“ He was var stern and pale, besides being:
more or less a tated, and angrily ordered me to»
go on and stop in internal nonsense.

“ I obeyed, an thought little more of it at
the time. But, Crimmins, the thing has been.
growing on me ever since I struck hands with
you and especially during the last two days.

“ all, here is the result—the evolution as
they would say nowadays—of the thought that.
has been hauntng me.”

Old Grip was at Once intenser interested.

“ Is this about the spot where the crowbar'
struck?” he asked.

“ Somewheres as near as I can recollect. But .

ou must remember that I had no ruling ob ect ;
Y
in making special note of my bearin s at the
time. As yet, I haven’t had the slig test can-1
couragement in my work, as you perceive. It -:
maybe within a few feet of here, and then again .
1 may be rods wide of the mark.”

“,But have you sounded the wall thorough»

yi’
“ Yes; all along. But somehow there doesn’t I
seem to be any guide in that. Now this place.
that I have torn out sounded sortof hollow, but.

you see how I have been deceived. However, I. ,.

sha’n't give up, but shall keep ri ht on sound--
ing and ripping out, if it takes a ortnight.”

“ That’s the true grit. But aren’t you afraid;
at times of being interrupted in your work by
Moresby unexpectedly turnin up again?”

“ No, ’replied Peters,wiping is brow thought-i
fully. “ Of course, there would be short shrift'.
for me in such an event, for he would kill me:
like a rat. But somehow—and the Lord only.
knows how, for I don't—I have an impression,
that Moresby isn’t coming back again.”

“I’ll tell on what [’1 do,” said 01d Grip,
hopeful] . ‘ To-morrow or next day—just as:
soon as have my next leisure—I’ll come here.

 

728

Old. Grip’s sun Hunt.

 

and help you in this thing. I’m something of
an expert in searches of this sort. In the mean
time, you can keep right on on your ‘own
hook,’ as you call it. And by the way, it
wouldn‘t be a bad idea for you to take that lit-
tle assistant of mine, Cheese-it, into your confi-
dence. He could help you perhaps more than

you imagine, and in the event of your making ‘-

auy discovery, he would know where to find me
‘ withfla notification to that effect. What do you

xJust the ticket!” cried Manchester Mat,
brightening up; and accordingly it was so ar-
ranged.

A little later on Old Grip returned home,
after leaving Cheese-it in Peters’s charge with
the necessary understanding.

“Another surprise for ou,Edwardl” cn'ed
Luella, holding up a letter or him. “ And don’t
be angry because I have taken the libert of
o ning it. I thought it might be from aud

arkham, seeing that it bore the Chappaqua
post-mark.”

The handwriting of the contents was as clear
and beautiful as copper-plate scrip, but the
siiirbstance was a queer jumble to the following
-e ect:

“Mrsraxsn nu'r Honss'r MAN or VIOLENCE.

“Sim—The wicked fleeth when no man pursueth.
Ditto the persecuted and the wronged when the
Man of Blood giveth the false alarm. Man of Blood
in this instance Moreshy. May God forget him in
his hour of need. Eastward, eastward ho fareth
the wanderers. God is great, and Moses Crust, the
Wild Shoemaker of Whippoorwill, is his Prophet.
Yesterday was the evil day. Meet me on the Rocks.
Repeat or be damned.

Moses Caner, Paorssr or ran Loan."

“ A surprise, indeed i” commented the detect~
ive, turning the queer epistle over and over in
his hands. “ What do you make of it, my
dear?”

“ For one thing, that Moresb —probably
shortly before his disap earance— as alarmed
our ersecuted couple in o a change of retreat.”

“ nat’s it.”

“ For another thing, that we must look them
up with as little delay as possible. "

“Yes; when I have finished with Goldkirk—
'to-morrow morning early. But look here,
dearie; I’d better go alone this time. You see,
I have a notion that I might find it advisable to
bring them home with me; and in that event
yiou would wish to make ready for their recep—

on.

“ As you think best Edward.”

" Good little wife in And he kissed her.
“ How could that old jigger, the Hermit, know
my address, I wonderl’

‘ He might have got it from Mrs. Markham,
to whom I gave it.’

u True. 9’

He then told her of his afternoon’s work, and,
directly after dinner, called at Goldkirk’s mag-
nificen residence, in the hope of catching the
.banker before he could be of! for his rivate
«club-house at the top of the bank-bail ing, or
elsewhere.

“ Mr. Goldkirk hasn’t been in since break-
:fast,” was the response of the footman at the
door. “ But if any one called for him I was to
.show him in to Miss Goldkirk.”

So, not a little against his will, the detective
'was brought to the banker‘s daughter, who re-
ceived him in the front drawing-room.

She was expensively and tastefully dressed
after her custom, but was looking so pale an
.miserable as to secretly shock her visitor.

“ Oh, Mr. Crimminsi” she burst out, with
'scarcel any preparation; “ you must know
"something of this mystery about papa and Count
Montalbert.”

01d Grip gave her to understand that he knew
nothing 0 any mystery—about her papa, at all
events.

She looked at him sadly and swimmingly for.
a moment, and then, with as much abruptness
as had characterized her excited words, burst
into tears.

 

CHAPTER XLVI.
GOLDKIRK’S onnnnss.

As a matter of course, the detective was at
once all sympathy without forgetting the prac-
ticalness of the melting situation.

He soon extracted the source of the trouble
from the weeping girl.

Not only had her betrothed lover, “Count
Montaibert,” strangely absented himself from
her presence for two whole days, but herfather,
in addition to affording her no satisfaction on
that point, had flown into an unwonted passion

. when pressed upon the subject, had, moreover,
in her opinion and that of the servants, taken
'to acting so abssnt-mindedly and otherwise
“queerly” as to seriously alarm her, and had
not been home to his lunch or dinner in two
days, sending district messages in lieu thereof
to the effect that he was busily engaged else-
where. and she must not worry.

“ dear young lady,” said the detective at
last, ‘ here is something of a uzzle, I grant,
but in the mean time let me edgise you not to
:alarm yourself unnecessarily. Leave it all to
me. ’I shall set out to fin Mr. Goldkirk at
once.

 

“ Can you imagine where he is, Mr. Crim-
minsi” plaintively.

“ Aheml Well, miss, I think I can manage
to find him, somehow.”

“ And my Henri—the poor, dear count?"

“ Ah! well, you see, I can’t answer as to that.
Fact is, I’ve never associated with the nobility
to any great extent."

“ Oh, of course; What could I be thinking of i”

“However, your father might know some-
thing about his lordship without deeming it ad-
visable to inform you. But don’t worry, and
just leave it all to me.”

With such consolation as she might gather
from this, the detective made his escape, and
then made a bee-line for the bank building.

“ Some connection between mysteries here, I
am myself thinkingl” he muttered to himself.
“ What can it be, I wonder? Then it has struck
me all along that, between his anxieties and his
fast living, old Goldkirk might give way under
the strain.”

He at once noticed a difference in the demean-
or of the negro janitor on the occasion of his
being conveyed by that official to the festive
summit of the towering pile.

From being jovial and garrulous, the 'ant
had become moody, taciturn, secret, and al this
in conjunction with a self-importance, almost
iiisiolence of manner, that was equally inexplic-
a e.

As on the occasion of the detective‘s first visit,
the banker was found to be in the midst of a
Bacchanalian and artistic entertainment, along
with the hi h-living associatesof his symposiums
no less rec ess and profligate (in secret) than
himself.

Somewhat surprised, or even startled at first,
Mr. Goldkirk was not long in exlpressing his
satisfaction that the detective shoul have come,
and, as upon the last occasion, he cemented to
desert his fellow-merry-makers for a confiden-
tial chat in the private apartment adjoining the
buffet room.

“ Do you know, my dear Crimmens," said'the
banker, confidentially, “ you almost shocked me
at first.”

“ Wh so, Mr. Goldkirki"

“ I be ieved, or half-believed, you tobe dead,”
with an oddly vacuous laugh.

“ Dead eh?”

“ Yes; Montalbert (same as Moresby you
know—an infernal, blasted scoundrel, as I very
near came finding out to my cost l) in some way
gave me the im ression that I would never see
you again, at a events.” And then Mr. Gold-

irk rambled off into somewhat incoherent
vituperations of the adventurer.

01d Grip had himself more cause to be shock-
ed at the banker’s changed appearance than
with the cases reversed.

Blanche had not exaggerated as to her pro-
genitor’s oddities. His manner was distin~
guished by strangely sudden alternations of
reticences and wildnesses, close-lippedness and
garrulity; while he seemed to have aged five
years since the detective had last seen him, to
say nothin of his bloodshot eyes, fitful man-
ner slove ness as to dress, and other evidences
of sieeplessness and hard living.

“ Well, I am all right, as you can see for
yourself, Mr. Goldkirk,” replied Old Gri , with
an assumption of jocularity. “ And dn’t it
strike you as a bit odd that Montalbert should
have supposed me to be dead '4”

“Yes, yes, of course; that is perhaps so,”
feverishly. “ I say, Crimmens, s a‘n’t weihave
a little wine in here all to ourselves, while the
rest of my Clubbers are enjoyin themselves in
yonder—stupid, noisy fellows!” isgustedly.

“ I beg you to excuse me on that point," said
the detec ive, earnestly. “Besides, I shall not
detain you more than a few minutes.”

“ Ah, well, just aisuyou say.”

“ By the way, r. Go dkirk,” pleasantly,
“ wh do on have the Clubbers with you if
you ud t em such a bore—~as I should think
you would have found them long ago, for that
matter!”

“ Let be my friend, let be!” irritably. “A
man must have some relaxation l”

“ Mr. Goldkirk,” the detective abruptly ask-
ed, after a slight pause between them, “ where
is Count Montalberti’”

The banker looked up with a startled, sus-
picious look, and then frowned.

“ How should I know?” he cried, furiously.
“ Deuce take you, man! what are you here for,
anyway?"

“ To see what has become of both Montalbert
and yourself,” replied 01d Grip, not knowing
what else to answer. “ Your daughter, Miss
Goldkirk, hesought me to make the inquiry.”

The banker sprung to his feet and paced the
floor wildly.

“ I shall discipline that girll” he fumed, with
what was most unusual with him—a string of
profanit . “ By Jupiter, sirl she will drive me
crazy. he—” He partly controlled himself
with an effort, and resumed his seat with a
confidential air. “ I’ll tell you what has be-
come of that infernal rascal, Crimmens——that
is, as far as I know,” he continued, with com-
parative collectedness. “ I have sacked him—
sent him packing—fired and bounced him, as
the slang saying goesl Ha, ha, ha!”

i

 

“ What i”

“ Yes, yes! Look you, Crimmens, you have
doubtless suspected me latterly of being in the
villain’s power! Confess it.”

“ Yes; I have suspected it.”

“ And perhaps by reason of his having .n his
possession that accursed missing correspondence,

2’

Bh‘.‘ Yes.”

“ It was true. But, my friend,” triumphant-
ly, “that isathing of the pastl Imagine the
play of Hamlet With the part of the Danish
sprig omitted. That was just that scoundrel’s
case. A bolt was missing in his elaborate

thumb-screw, designed for my special torture— '

an all-im ortant rivet, as you might say.”

“ How i?’

“ The master-letter—the Castro letter—was
wanting! Hal imagine my sense of relief and
freedom when that became self—evident to me.
Ha, ha, ha!"

And yet there was something pathetically
hollow and mirthless—at all events, the reverse
of triumphant—in his laugh.

“ Well well; I can imagine that, sir.”

“ Hal should say so. And then, if you had
seen how I bounced himl Lordl but he cringed
and begged. But I was adamant. sir, adamant!
It was mv turn at the thumb-screw. See? Off
he went flyin —baflled, broken, defeated—curse
himi But 0 course I can’t tell Blanche this—
not yet awhile, anyway. Now you’ve got the
who e secret; and we ll crack the neck of! a
bottle of Mumm sec. Eh, my boy i’

But all this was the reverse of satisfactory to
the detective, as we may well believe.

” But where did the man disappear to, Mr.
Goldkirki” he asked, without paying any atten-
tion to the vinous proposition.

The banker again run up in a rage.

- “ How the deuce s oul
roared. “ Disappeared to the devil for all I
care! Good-night, sir, good-night! You inter-
rupt me; I must return to my friends; I am the
father of the feast. Ha, ha. ha i”

Old Grip at once rose to go, Mr. Goldkirk ao-
com anying him to the elevator.

“ impson,” he said, with sudden good-nature
to the janitor, “ show thisgentleman carefully
out of the building.”

“ 0b, of course i” growled the giant, with an
insolent indifference. “ W hat else am I here for?"

CHAPTER XLVII.
wmrrooawrnn.
“ BUT what do you make of all this?” asked
Luella. “ Doesn’ it strike you as very strange

and suspicious?”

It was the mornin after the detective’s last
interview with the anker, the result of which
had been faithfully recounted to her, and Old
Grip was making his preparations for another
visi to Whippoorwill.

“ I should say so,” he replied. “ But we must
let the matter stand as it is for the resent.
When I get back we shall perhaps h t upon
something new. By the way, my dear, should
Cheese-it come from Peters with anything worth
knowing, you are to send him after me with it
instanter, unless I send you a telegram to the
contrary.”

“ Of course, my love. But, one thing more.”

“ What is it?"

“ I do wish on had left some word for
Blanche Goldkir ,'at least as to her father’scon-
ditionl Perhaps he didn’t go home at all, and
she may have sat up all night for some word by

on.

“ Very likely. ,But what word was there for
me to carry to the girl? Besides, don’t worry.
It’s Montalbert she’s far more anxious about
than the old man; and, of course. I’m as much
in the dark there as ever. Good-by, my dar-
lingl Shall try to get back tonight; but don’t
grow nervous if I’m detained.”

He kissed her and was off.

Arrivin at the “ Haunted House ” in the mid-
dle of the orenoon he found the place wholly de-
serted, as he had anticipated.

But he had hoped to find Moses, the Hermit,
awaiting him somewhere about the grounds,
and there was not a sign of him.

At last a farmer came driving along from the
eastward, who proved to be not wholly impervi-
one to inquiries.

“ Yes, sir,” said the man “ the young lady
what was living here a spell. drove ofl two or
three days ago. She waswith a good-looking
young feller, perhaps her husband, what I never
see’d afore. hey stopped at my house a spell,
for I bought the cow they was a- eavin’ behind.
A purty decent grade cow she is, too; but I
mought hev got her cheaper if‘ I’d ha’ knowed
how hard-pressed the youn lady was for money.

'But, durn the luck! them s just the chances a

teller lets slip. ’_’

“ Where were thay going?”

“ Don’t know. hey was p’inted fur Nut-
megs; that’s all I know. Haw, haw, haw!”

And the ornament to Westchester civilization
whi ped up his half-starved team and proceeded
on is way, probably in search of fresh cow-
bargains.

The detective, who never liked to lose time,
was at a loss what course to pursue, until a
thought suddenly recurred to him.

I know or care’i” he'

 

 

”
,, thfiy had gone.

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

29‘

 

 

He ran some distance back 11 .among the
rocks and, to the best of his ability, sounded
the whi poorwill callwhich was one of the Wild
Shoema er's characteristics.

It was sufficiently loud and sharp, though
somewhat indifferent as an imitation, but it was
effective. ,

After several repetitions and auses there
was something like an answer rom far, far
away up and off among the rugged heights.

Presently he: reiterated the cry yet again,
and then the ansWer was indubita 1e and more
distinct.

Ten minutes later, the Hermit came rushin
down the ath with that silent and wonderfu
speed of h s. _

“Man of violence!” he said, with no little
asperity of manner, “hadst thou been more

rompt to my summons, thou wouldst not have
Eeen kept waiting.”

“It wasn’t my fault that your letter only
reached me last evening, Moses,” Old Grip re-
plied. “ When did you write it?”

“ Two days before, though I did not post it
until twenty-four hours later."

“ Ah! well, we mostly receive letters as they
happen to be ."

“ Still, in son what is written is written;
for so sayet the i’rOphet of the Lord—which is
I I!

. “ Very likely. Whither have they gone?”
But the Hermit seemed to be in one of his

dream reveries—a state of exaltation, he
might ve called it. .
‘ My sou,”he said, with solemn irrelevance,

“ that was a noble epistle that I dispatched to
thee."

“ It answered the purpose, m friend, as you
can see that it has brought me era.”

“It didn’t strike you as anything like 8. pi-
racy—a plagiarism. I hope?"

“ What? your letter!”

“Yes,m son."

“Pla ' am of what‘i”

“ We , of Paul’s Epistle to the Corinthians,
for instance; or even of his more masterly
Epistle to the Ephesians we will say.”

‘ Well, not exactly. In fact, my dear Moses,
your e istle struck me as being particularly
origins .”

"Aha! but how did it strike you as com ar-
in with the sacred epistolary efforts I a ude

’

“ Well, now, really, my friend, I am rather
rust in my Pauline lore."

“ till i” anxiously. '

“ Still, 1 have no hesitation in saying that,
for pure uniqueness your letter could knock
either one of the Pa ne epistles endwise.”

The Hermit brightened up with childlike de-

liglht at this rough-and-read commendation,
w ose humor was alto ether ost upon him.
“ So now,” continu the detective, with a
little pardonable impatience. “ I hope you will
be good enough to tell me where Mr. and Mrs.
Markham are gone.” ' .

“ My son, I can’t—it isn’t permitted.”

“ Why can’t you ‘P’

” Because I don’t know.” '

“ Oh, the deuce l" in unmitigated disgust.

“ Never call on the devil, my son ” earnestly,
“ unless on are a Pro het of the rd, as it is
my rivi ego to be. 0!; erwise he mightn’t like
it xi once saw him,my son. _He wore a cocked
hat, and was sitting upon his tail to hide it,
though the splay shape of his shees gave away
the fact of ,his cloven feet. ”

“ Look here, Moses. what did you_ want me to
come to you up herein Whippoorwill for!”

“ Why, to guide you to our friends, my son,
as a matter of course. ” _

“ But you just said you didn’t know where

The Lordwillbe our guide, my son. This
I do remember, that Claude once told me his
native lace was in the wild country over the
State Border, somewhere this Side of New
Canaan. Come, we will take up our search
forth’with. It was for this that I sent for
thee.
The detective ran to where he had left his
horse and buggy' at the roadside.
“Come on! he cried, s ringing into the
vehicle. “Get in, Moses!

time. .

But thehmld Shoemaker of Whippoorwfll
hook his .

l “ A Prophet of the Lord,” he said, “ uses his
own legs, not those of enslaved dumb beasts.”

And proudly pointing to the eastward, he led
the way up the steep, stony road, with pro i-
one, untiring strides that taxed not a httle t e
powers of the detective’s hired horse to rival.

It was a tedious and arduous journey fora,
dozen miles or so over a wild broken, pre—
cipitous and sparsely popula re on, and!
many inquiries for a long time resu ted in no
information as to the whereabouts of the fugi-

6 shall lose no

tive couple.
Toward eveniu at last, however, they
reached the little age of Mill Plain, Just over

the State line, a few miles southwest of Dan-
bury, where the name Markham was found to
be one of the old-time famil names of the
farmmg neighborhood; and I nally rSistent
inquiry evoked the information the. a young

 

 

couple, such as was described, had taken up
their residence a few days before in a lonel
little furnished cottage near a sequestered pon ,
a mile or two to the west. '

The searchers found the house indicated just
as twilight was closing down over the wild sur-
rounding hills and woods.

Their approach had been noted, and both
Maud an her husband came running out to
meet them.

“Oh, Mr. Crimmins!” cried the young wife,
her eyes brimmin over; “we thought you
mi ht be dead. Bu you are with us once more,
an there is still hope!"

CHAPTER XLVIII.
DAYLXGHT AHEAD

“Horn, indeed!" cried Old Grip, springing
out of his buggy to return the couple’s ex-
uberant greetings while Moses, apparently as
fresh as a rag-weed after his long an unflagging
tramp, looked benignantlty on, both hands
raise , his lips movmg, asl bestowing a grand
blessing upon the lost ones found; “ well, I
should say! and perhaps better than that.”

“ What can be better than hope 3” they asked,
smiling.

“ Realization—in other and more metaphor-
ical words, Da light Ahead 1" was the confident
reply. “ But ook here, my friends, we are
hungryas bears; or I can answer for myself
however stanch old Moses and my poor devil o
a horse ma feel.”

“ Come right in!" said Claude beamingly, as
he took charge of the horse. “ Thank heaven!
there is the wherewithal for the entertainment
of both man and beast,_little as we dared expect
the happiness of this Visit.”

Even Moses was induced to go into the cot-
tage, which proved to have belonged to a great
aunt of Claude’s, recently deceased, which fact
had facilitated its being secured as a temporary
shelter by the wandering pair.

After a plentiful but fru l supper had been
disposed of mutual con dances were inter-
changed, with the surprises consequent upon

each.

‘ ‘ Moresby the robber of the Occidental, after
all !” exclaimed Claude Markham, knitting his
brows. “ I could never have believed it! And
then this murderous attempt upon your own
life! The monster!”

“ It seems almost like a hideous dream l” said
Maud, with a shudder. “ To think of our hav-
lug been friendly with such a man! “ And yet
— esitatin ly—1 ‘the man really liked us. I
can’t ever elieve otherwise, undesirable as it
seems now, to have obtained the predilections of
such a terrible being.”

“ It is true,” observed the detective. “‘I be-
lieve in the sincerity of his prepossession for you
two as thoroughly as you can. But there is no
accounting for the contradictions of such a na-

ture ”
sed the Hermit in

 

“A man of blood!” inte
his impressive voice, for he had not neglected to
inform them of his own experience with Moras-
by. “ My prophecy hath been fulfilled. From
his lparting With me the man of blood went
fort to his death! and what was writ was
writl"

No answer was made to this, though his hear-
ers weren ' y more or less impressed by
the solemnity of the words. _

“ Do you think that Moresby may be dead?"
Maud demanded, of the detective.

“ I cannot say,” he replied. “You are both
now possessed of all the information fromwhich
I can form an conjecture. I however, hope
for much from he development of this insane
frenzy, moodiness,or whatever it may be called,
that is seizing upon Goldkirk. And then, also,
this search by Peters and Cheese-it in the under-
ground passage may at any hour develo into
something. But be of ood cheer! The anger/
for you. Claude, at al events, seems to be a
thing of the st. Ifeel it. You must return
with me, bot of you, to New York to—morrow.
Luella is already prepared for your reception in
our little home, and, if need be you can remain
with us there in continued seclusion indefinite-
ly. Nothing like the solitude of a great city in
which to lose or bury one'self out of sight and
out of mind.”

Claude hesitated, while his wife also looked
doubtful. -

“ Iain not certain as to this,” said the former.
“ much as I appreciate the nobleness of your
hospitable Oder. ’

“ That ls the way I feel about it,” acquiesced
his wife.

It was finally eed that the matter should
be taken under a visement over-ni ht.

Then, as evening waastill but litt e advanced,
with a fine moonlight at that, Claude Markham
drove with the detective over to Danbury in his
fight wagon that the latter might telegraph to
h 5 wife, and thus ended the eventful da .

The next mornin a minor sensa on was
caused when it was discovered that the Hermit,
who had compromised with his Scorn of the ef-
feminac of human habitations by also ing on
the kite en-floor in lieu of the com ortable
couch thatcould have been at his dispoaal, was
found to have disappeared.

Then a little later on, Claude, who had been

 

early out of doors to look after the horses, came»
back With a broad grin.

“ Moses has, at all events, not neglected to
leave us certain reminders of his visit,” said he.
“ Come out and see for yourselves.”

The cottage, whose surroundings were scarce-
Wless wild and picturesque than those of the

hippoorwill homestead, was environed by
large numbers of huge rocks, overgrown wit
creepers, bare, large, small and of various
granitic hues.

There was hardly one of these with an avail-
able flat—sidedness of surface which Moses had
not taken advantage of for the conspicuous
placarding of his various scriptural injunc-
tions.

They were to be seen everywhere, if not quite
so thick as the proverbial Vallambi'osian leaves,
at least largely suggestive of the patent-medi—
cine advertisements that are such a disfl ure—-
ment of so many picturesque resorts at omen
and abroad; or it looked, as Old Grip suggested,
like a Salvation Army’s battle‘shouts su denly
and by some occult magic materialized into
sign-boards, as an effective and multifarious"
warning to the persistently unrighteous for
manya day to come if not altogether wasted
on the desert air by the out—of-the—way solitude
of the place chosen for their manifestation.

“ Poor Moses !" said Maud,laughiug. “ C
be may be, but no one can question the unse -
flshness of his strange freaks in the Scriptural
direction and I am sure his heart is in the right
place if ' poor brains maybe wool-gather-

in ."

Thereafter the ‘Wild Shoemaker of the Whip-
poorwill was no longer a real or tan ble exist-
ence for any of those who had come in contact
with his strange personality in the course of
our sto . But, from the fact that his freshly-
stencile work is still to be met with occasional-
ly on fence, bridge, rock and deserted out-bui id—
in in the wild region bordering along either
si e of the State line,* the presumption remains
that he is at this hour of writing still pursuing
uninterruptedl y his erratic course of proselyting
in his cru e and familiar wa .

Neither of the young coup e was et decided.
as to whether the detective's hospita le proposiu
tion should be accepted or not.

But directly after breakfast a decision in the
affirmative was happil y expedited b the appari-
tion of Master Cheese-it galloping nto view on
a fine horse, which looked little less than ele—
phantine by contrast with its rider, alon" the
narrow pond road connecting with the highway
to Danbury.

“ Hurrah!” cried the now-comer, brin ing his.

fiery steed to a halt with the whoop o a cow-

boy in the act of ' ainting a mushroom frontier '

settlement in the rightest and most convivial
of vermilions. “The mystery’s bu’sted, boss!
Pack up and be ready for a triumphal march,
Mrs. and Mr. Markham. I’m the humping tid-
ingsflmarer for this festive occasion; you hear
me

And then he was off the horse in a jiffy, his
impish little face fairly dancing with excite-
ment.

“What’s your news?” demanded Old Grip,
with his customary poremptoriness. “ Has
Moresby turned up?"

“Not much, that I know of, but his secret
snag-house has! Such a find,boss! Peters and
me struck oil in the tunnel after dark last night.
When I had hurried home with the news, 
Crimmins had just got your telegram. '1'.ic:o
was a four a. M. train for Danbury; and hero I
ism,’right side up with care, and sound as :3 dc!-
ar!

 

CHAPTER XLIX. 9
REVELATION.
“ Wnar did you find in the tunnel?" asked the
detective

G’

“ on, lots! All the Occidental swag intact; .

for one thin . Moresby‘s diary, written out in-

full, and giv n the closest details of that crime
in particular, or another. Then there’s a letter.
that must have escaped Moresby’s attention,
for it had slipped awa down out of sight into
a narrow cranny. Pe rs says it’s mig ty lin-
portanti"

“A letter!”

“ Yes, boss; a lon one, full of Spanish words ‘

and hrases here an there."

“ ow was it signed?”

“ Let me see; Peters read ed the name to me.
Castro—George Castro! that was it. "

Both Claude and his wife had clasped their
hands in silent fititude.
inThe iiiletective mod to them with his engag-

am e.

g M friends,” he said, “the da light that.
was a sad is here with us at last! ow do you!
think you can accept my proposition ?"

Their glowinglfaces were asuflicient answer-
for the long nig t of their suflerings was at last

ling in the soft glimmerings of the New

ay.

Cheese-it further reported that but little of

the contents of the criminal's unearthed treas-

ure-house had been disturbed as yet Manches-

ter Mat having announced it as his determina-
O

'A fact.

 

I

30

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

 

 

tion to mount guard over the spot, revolver in I
hand, until such time as the detective himself
should be on hand to order otherwise.

The abandonment of the new retreat was now [
hastened no less summarily than in the case of i
the old “'hippoorwill homestead a few days I
‘ reviously, the entire party arriving in Dan-
'gury, en route to New York, a few hours later.

A At Danbury a fresh dispatch was sent to ‘

Luella, the detective made the necessary ar— ‘
rangement for sending back his equipage to the ,
llV ery man of whom he had hired itin Pleasant- 1.
ville, the Markhams were so fortunate as to
dispose of their turn-out on the spot to advant—
age, an excellent dinner was partaken of at the '
hotel, and, two hours after that, the party were
snug in the Crimmins New York flat, with Lu-
ella and Maud in each other’s arms.

Then the detective was about to accompany
Cheese-it to the laundry building without any
delay, when a district messenger-boy placed the l
following note from Miss Goldkirk in his hands:

“ MR. (‘nmmxsz— Come to me at once. Papa i
crazy at the milk building. Am perfectly distruet- ‘
ed and don’t know what to do. B "

Sending Cheese—it on to rejoin Manchester,r
Mat, Old Grip tossed the communication to his
wife, spokca few words of explanation to his ,
guests, and hurried away in obedience to the
summons.

He found Miss Goldkirk in a terrible state of

excitement, which no ministrations on the part
of Mrs. Beckwith, the housekeeper, had been
able to ameliorate.
_ In fact she was so distracted as to have for-
gotten to look pretty, with all the toilette ne—
glect or violations that such a statement ought
to imply, which is sufiiciently eloquent of her
unhappy condition.

The detective was not long in obtaining the
gist of what was to be learned.

Mr. Goldkirk had not been home the preced—
ing night; his actions had been more noticeably
aberrated on the previous day; and now the
news, freshly received from the bank, was that
he had become raving mad at a. meeting of the
board of directors, necessitating his temporary
confinementunder guard in one of his luxurious
private apartments at the top of the building.

“Think of it, Mr. Crimmins!” half shrieked
the unhappy young woman. “ My father—my
father, with his spotless character, his unex—
amcpled respectability and social position, caged
an nestrained like a cheap madman, a com—
mon erson!”

“ umph!”muttered the detective, half dis—

posed to a lack of sympathy for the nonce],

“ rather like a decided! uncommon person,
should say. —But,” alou , “ you must really try
to bear up, miss. He’ll like enough get over it;
and I’ll do what I can for you.”

“ Oh, but the notoriety, the disgrace, Mr.
Crimminsi And my Henri, my poor, dear
count! not a word, not a Sign of him yet. If
he, too, should be lost, or crazy, or dead, or
mad ”

But here the detective made his escape with-
out further ceremony.

When near the bank, he met one of the
banker’s men—servants with whom he had made
some acquaintance.

“ The poor gentleman i” exclaimed the man.
“But then they have got him to sleep at last.
He is up in his private chamber in charge of
Simpson, the big janitor, and the doctor thinks
he may wake up in a less violent state. I am
going now for another physician, for there is to

e a consultation.”

But scarcely had Old Grip, who was well
known at the bank, reached the top-floor hall
in the elevator, where the physician 9. police—
man or two, and a number of anxious bank
officials, were gathered, before there were low
moans heard to issue from the room in which
Mr. Goldkirk had been placed under guard.

“ A bad sign!" said he old doctor, gravely
shaking his head. “ The opiate was an extra-

werful one. That it has so soon lost its effect

bad, bad!”

“Goldkirk has been going it too stronfif
late,” was whi red to the detective by .
Manly, the one or, whom he recognized as one
of the gayest and most persistent of the ‘ Club-
bers’ in the Goldkirk symposia. “ Good Lord!
it has been ni ht after night with him, almost
uninterrupted y, for months eat. And. in ad-
dition to this, we have remar ed some unusual
strain on his mind, that may have been of a
terribl wearing nature. ”

Old rip sympathetically nodded, and looked
without answerin at tho speaker—a short,
thick-necked red- aced, demijohn—shaped gen-
tleman of middle-age, with crisp-curling gray
hair, short-breath and a nose like a boiled beet
-—who, he thought together with kindred
spirits of the Dafiodil Coterie, might safely ap-
p some of his criticisms to his own case.

at at this juncturethe most startlingscream,
shouts and cries together with a confused, scuf-
fling sound as of men in mortal strug ie, burst
suddenly from the chamber in which t e bank-
president was co . r

This was in an instant accompanied by furi-
ous or terrified oaths in the negro’s voice, after
which he was heard to roar out:

 

“ Helpi help! He is mad, he is killing me!
Help, help, for God’s sake l"

Followed by the others the detective had
been the first to spring to the door, only to find
it secured on the inside; and the other entrance
to the apartments, including the large folding-
doors, were found to be equally stubborn.

“ A crowbar, or a hatchet, some of you!”
cried Old Gri , sternly. “ Or waiti”

Retiring a ew steps, he‘suddenly precipitated
himself, shoulder foremost, like an avalanche
against the barrier.

Lock, latch and bolt yielded as if by a thun-
der—stroke, and literally torn from its hinges,
the door was carried in with a crash.

The men rushed into the room on the heels of
the intrepid detective, and then momentarily
recoiled as a terrible sight met their gaze.

Only half~dressed, with 'his white hair and
meager limbs flying about, but apparently with
superhuman strength, the madman already had
the gigantic negro in his irresistible clutch, in
spite of the latter’s Herculean efforts in his self-
defense, and foaming at the mouth, gnashing
his teeth. was apparently pounding him to
death with a short-handled plumber’s sledge
hammer.

“ Curse your black hide !" screamed the
maniac, punctuating every wordwith a terrible
blow; “ you’d discover my secrets, in order to
betra and ruin me, would you? Hireling ! dog]
ape! ’ll hummer you into bloody meat andpud-
ding, if I hang for it a million fold!”

“ Quick! have a strait jacket in readiness i”
cried Old Grip. “ Mind out for his hammer,
though.”

\Vith that he leaped forward to get possession
of the terrible weapon, when a random blow
from the same grazed his shoulderwith sufficient
force to send him staggering back.

“ Help, help i” shouted the bleeding victim, in
a fainter voice. “ Will no one save me? Help,
help! He is killing me! Grab his arm! ' -
the same hammer with which I saw him kill
Count Montalbert /” .

CHAPTER L.
THE CLEARING or.

THIS fearful announcement on the part of the
madman’s victim seemed to com lete the panic
and helplessness of the appa led onlookers,
with the single exception of the veteran detect-
1ve.

fl A second spring was more successful than the
rst.

In spite of the unearthly strength that seemed
to possess the maniac, and which. had rendered
even the giant 'anitor little more than a child
in his frenzie grasp, the case was different
when he was fairly clutched from behind by
such an expert athlete as Old Grip.

Almost in a. twinkling he was disurmed, and
face down upon the carpet, his wrists behind his
back, the detective’s iron knee planted like a
piledriver between his shoulder-blades.

In a few minutes the captive was strait-jack-
eted, after which the reaction set in, and he
fainted away, weak and limp as a rag, as they
laid him out on a couch.

Then the detective turned to the negro,
whose hurts had been by this time somewhat
ministered to.

He was lying upon the floor, still conscious.
The blood had been washed from his Wounds,
which were found to be as serious as they were
numerous; though he would probably recover,
the proverbial thickness of the African skull
having doubtless alone enabled him to survive
the tremendous sledge-hammering he had re-
ceived.

The vigorous and practical action of Old
Gri in the premises had constituted him an
out ority which even the policemen were will-
ing enough to acknowledge.

At a sign from him the bystanders drew to
one side, and he calmly approached the pres-
trate janitor.

“ Can you recognize me?” he asked.

“Why, yes, boss!" replied the suflerer, dis-
tinct] . “I remembers on, Mr. Crimmins.”

“ ou seem able to without much pain?”

“ It ain't de talkin’ what pains, boss. It’s
dam hammer-licks. Gostalmighty! I feel as if
I war all caved in ’bout de um an’ neck.”

“What did Eu mean by but charge you
made against . Goldkirk jut before I sue-
ceoded in rescuing you?”

“ Jest what I done said, boss.”

“That the adventurer, sometimes known as
Count Montalbert, came to‘his death at Mr.
Goldkirk’s hands ?”

“De troof, ’fore de Lord, boss! But I will
say dat I t’ink Marse Goldkirk war jest as mad
as when he done tackled me.”

“ You saw him commit this crime?”

“Sure!”

“ How came you to Witness it?”

“Is’pected somet’in wrong, so, instead ob
takin' anoder ni ht off, hid in de curtain space
betwixt dis hea bedroom an’ zde nex’ room,
which am de buffet-room whar dey keeps de
wine an’ ice-box.

“ De count he done come in dere ’bout mid-
night. He war powerful gay, while Boss Gold-
kirk he—well, he wa’n’t.

" fie count he’d been gamblin“ an’ had bu’sted

 

a fare lay-out. He Iaughed,drank good deal
ob de wine, nn’ at las’ he done pile up do little
table in dere wid bank—notes an’ gold-pieces.

“Bimeby de boss an’ de count dey got to
quarrelin’. Or radder do boss war awful ’cited
while de count be war cool an’ tantalizin’.

“It seemed all ’bout some letter which de
count purfessed to hab an’ which placed Boss
Goldkirk in his power. .

“Den it war also ’bout de count’s gwine to
marry Miss Blanche, de boss’s daughter. an’ de
way he gwine to make do money fly when he
done got de young leddy.

“ Party soon de count he done got jess too
aggerwatin’ to live, dat am de hull troof.

“ Den de boss he done snap his gold toot—pick
outen his han’ so it done fl on to de flo’ as de
count was ’bout tiltin' back e head to take in a
fresh sniftcr ob dat nice wine.

“ De boss got up an’ purtended to reach down
fur dat toof—pick. But when he done risemp do
hammer war in his han’ what he must have put
under dat werry table some time before. It
war do same hammer What he belted me Wif.

“ Well, jess den de count war tiltin’ his head
back, an’ den Boss Goldkirk let him hab it on
do back ob de skull.

“ Julium Caesar! but dat war a crack. It
bu’sted in de hull back ob de head, an' dere
didn’t seem to be any need ob de way de boss
kept a-poundin’away on do pore count’s head
arter he war down. No man but a crazy man
would have done dat way.

“ Well, do count be war deader dan a doah-
nail, his hull crust bu’sted in.

“Den de boss done search de body. It war
awfuler dan before. He done find apack ob let-
ter, but I s’pect do one he kill de count to get
back wa’n’t among ’em. It looked like dat de
count he had done fool de ole man into t’inkin’
pethad it, an’ in dat way had tempted his 0W1!
a e.

“ De boss tuk on awful for awhile. Bimeby,
dough, he got cooled down. Den he hide away
de body, an‘ all do count’s money wid de body.
Dar wan’t much blood on de cabpet. It war a
slick job. Dat am do troof, an’ nuflin’ but de
troof, s’elp me!"

The appalling story had been listened to in
horrified silence, without a single interruption
on the part of any one of its numerous au-

di rs.

“ You say he hid away the body?” cried the
detective.

" Dat am de troof, boss.”

“ Where did he hide it?"

“Goll 1 Boss Goldkirk’s head war lebel
dere. e done hid do body whar it would kee
till he done got ready to plant it in do groun’,
sup ose.”

“ ut where?”

“ In de ice—house.”

fiflr‘he ice-gorge?" 1 t

esgin e ig icec ose , or rerfrigrumater
in de buffet—room.” ’

“ I know the place,” interposed the cashier,
in a low voice. “Mr. Goldkirk had it fitted up
for the preservation of our best wines and
liquors, and it is big enough to stow away two
or three bodies in for that matter. Come! ’

They proceeded under his guidance to inspect
the refrigerator.

There, sure enough, and in a condition suffi—
ciently confirmatory of the details afforded by
the janitor, the body of the murdered adven-
turer was found, together with the treasure
which represented his last desperate gains on

earth.

One of the bank—directors, an old and rather
firm-Ioolrinnsgedgentleman who was among the
group, p forward, his eyes fixed upon the
piteous spectacle.

“Who was this man?” he asked. “ Intimate
as have beenm business relations with our un-
fortunate presi ant—for I shall persist in believ-
ing him more unfortunate than guilty—I do not
remember any Count Montalbert among his
acquaintances and associates.”

‘ I knew somethin of the man. but not
much,” Mr. Manly too it upon himself to reply.
“He was socially intimate with Mr. Goldkirk
of late, much to the surprise of myself and
others, who looked upon the man with distrust.
But matters are beginning to clear up a little
now, and, from what we have just listened to,
I doubt not that the general verdict will agree
with yours, Mr. Pullman—that is that Mr. Gold-
kirk wasworried to madness by an unpflncipled
adventurer, and that he is to beconsidered more
ltlufogtunato than guilty in the deplorable af-

air

“ I can make this matter still clearer, gentle-
men,” interposed Old Grip.

They looked up to him with the deepest atten1
tion and respect.

“I understand as a preliminary,” continued
the detective, “ -at I am stillthe sole accredited
detective in the employ of the Occidental Na-
tional Bank for the roduciu'on of the criminal
or criminals engag in the recent robbery of
the institution’s vaults, and the recOVery of
proceeds of that robbery, with such reward in
view as has already been oifered b the board
of directors for the romotion of t ose praise-
worthy objects. Do state my case understand-
inglyi '

 

Old Grip’s Still Hunt.

31

 

 

Mr. Manly bowed gravely,whlle Mr. Director ‘
Fallman said: i
“ Certainly, Mr. Crimmins. You are still our 3
accredited agent in the affair.” I

“Good, and thank you l"continued Old Grip.
“ The robber of your bank is represented by the ‘
lifeless remains of this desperate man before us. 1

Iam ready to afford substantial proof of his
. guilt, together with a return to the institution
3, of the entire abstracted funds, cash and bonds,

intact, in the course of let me say one hour

hence.”

Accompanied by the cashier, Mr. Fallman, ,
the private policeman employed by the bunk, ;
and a police roundsman who was present, the
detective forthwith proceeded to the building
known as the Etna Steam Laun .

Lending them to the entrance of the tunnel at i
the bottom of the pit, where the faithful Peters,
with Cheese-it at his side, was found still 1
mounting guard, he called the formerto one side.

“Have you secured the Castro letter?” he ‘
whispered. ,

“ it is in my pocket,” was the reply.

“Gentlemen!” called out the detective; “be ‘
pleased to follow me. The stolen treasure and :
promised proof as to the identity of the criminal ‘
are here.’

The recovered treasure was accordingly form-
ally taken in charge by the bank ofiicials, to-
gether with the dead man's diary containing, l
among much other interesting matter, his de- 

tailed confession of the crime to the minutest ,
particular.

“ Mr. Crimmins,” said Mr. Director Fallman,
taking the detective’s hand at parting, “though
a formal investigation of these extraordinary ‘
disclosures will be first in order, I can safely ,
congratulate you in the name of my financial j
associates, and say definitely that the reward :
offered by our institution for these discoveries 1,
«—-ten thousand dollars—will be at your dis- l
posal within a few days."

CHAPTER LI.
DENOUEMENT.

ABOUT three months after the incidents re-
counted in the last chapter, Claude Markham
and his wife, accompanied by Old Grip, formal-
ly betook themselves to the palatial residence of
Mr. Clifford Goldkirk, ex-president of the Occi-
dental National Bank.

Luella would have gladly accompanied the
trio, but succumbed to the reflection that her
presence might be somewhat supererogatory in
the piece of private business that was in hand.

Many changes had taken place in those three
months, as an aftermath of the harVeat of de-
velopments evolved by our tragic and compli-
cated tale.

The Etna Steam Laundry was a thing of the
past, save as memorable instance of what meth-
odized structures may be reared by the cunning
and cleverness of criminal intent, backed by in-
tellectual force, as a long-unsuspected mask for
its own nefarious and multifarious ends; for the
laundry had actually paid as a business venture,
apart from its darker and subtler purpose as
designated by its promoter, and it had become
generally and wonderineg known, chiefly
through admissions on the part of Dick J elliife,
that Mrs. Griscom was but another alias of the
master-adventurer, Jud J ellifl‘e, alias Moresby,
alias Montalbert, et al.; though it was still but
dimly comprehended how he had enacted such
an inherently difficult réle, in addition to so
many others, with the success that might
scarcer have been interrupted at all, but for
the fatal defect that found him out in his more
ambitious and dashing schemes.

The detective had secured his reward, and, if
he owed more to luck and the chance drift of
circumstances than to his individual acumen
and expertness in this particular instance, his
success was another trophy in the list of his
long and hard-earned triumphsr

Of course Luella shared in this added luster
to her husband’s renown, and was made glad
and happy in roportion as it redounded to the
reaped: and iration in which he was held.

he diminutive but redoubtable Cheese-it did
not fail to come in for his full share of ap-
roval in the eneral dénouemant to which he
ad contribu his & preciable element of elu-
cidation and was s a favorite of Mrs. Crim-
mins and Ellie apple of his distinguished princi-
s regar .
hgaifgenchestfir Mata: or Matthew Peters, who
uses orin s oungcrda s hadboen
assisted through Old Gri 's influende,'to the po-
sition 0 first mate on a ne bark in the China
' trade. At the latest accounts, he was doing
:10ny in his honest employment.
Dick J elliflfe, the whilom e

eer of the
steam laund

, and who had no appeared to
have any c pable connection with his infa-
mous relative designs, had returned to En-
gland, where he was underst to have become
an industrious and hard-wesking “ driver” on
the Midland Railwa .

As for the Markham couple, Claude’s good
name had at last been so thoroughly and tri-
umphantly vindicated that he was profitably
employed ln_a confidential position with a large
manufacturing firm, and the present visit of
the pair to Mr. Goldkirk was in the nature of

 

spouses he may

a settlement of their long-standing and ‘ust
grievance against that unenviabla indivi ual
in a way that is about to be disclosed.

And what of Mr. Goldkirki

Recovered from his attack of insanity, and
relieved on that plea from accountability for
J ellifi‘e’s death by a coroner’s jury he was now
a hopeless, broken~down invalid in his luxurious
home, broken in health, weakened in spirit,
and, let us hope, contrite and penitent over the
follies, mistakes, meannesses and indulgences of
his soulless and hypoeritical past.

The visitors were expected, and the miserable
millionaire received them while reclining in his
invalid’s chair, a pallid, emaciated and trem—
bling wreck of his whilom confident and osten-
tatious self.

llcy tacit consent, the detective was the ac-
cre ited spokesman of his party.

“ Mr. Goldkirk,” he said, “ I suppose you un-
derstand that we are here in response to a re-
quest from your confidential lawyer, in your
behalf. for the negotiation of a certain Monte-

;vidcun letter at present in Mrs. Markham’s

possessionl"

The banker bowed his head, and then signed
a servant, who silently quitted the room.

“ Wait, if you please,” he said, in a low but
distinct voice. “ My lawyer is in waiting. Ah,
he is here!”

The legal gentleman, a prominent member of
the rofession. introduced himself in a few
wor 5. Then he said:

“ It is but natural that my client should anx-
iously desire the return to him of the incrimin-
ating document in this lady’s possession. At
the same time, he recognizes her right to its
custody, and would merely negotiate for its re-
turn at whatever reasonable price may be fixed
upon it. Do 1 state your views correctly, Mr.
Goldkirk?”

The banker nodded.

“ The matter is than simple enough," con-
tinued the lawyer. “ It is now a more question
of yes or no on the lady’s part as to whether or
not she will part with the paper for a consider-
ation.”

Old Grip was about to reply, when Maud in-
terposed a slight gesture.

‘ Wait, if you please,” she said, with calm
dignity. “ Before saying yes or no to the pro-
posed bargainin , I would like to put a few
guestions to Mr. oldkirk personally,and judge

ispassionately of the value of whatever re-
see fit to make."

The lawyer egan to say that he did not think
his client’s health sufficiently robust, when the
banker interposed by a weak but impatient
movement. '

“ By your leave N— , I shall be thejudge of
that,’ he said;and then facing the young wife,
with something like a flush of shame in his
transparent cheeks. he said, firmly: “ Mrs.
Markham, I freely acknowledge that I have in-
jured your husband and yourself cruelly, per-
haps irreparably. Now proceed with your
questions, if you please.”

Both Maud and Claude looked not a little
surprised, but the former did not waste time.

“ You acknowledge, sir, before these gentle-
men," she said, “ the long series of persecutions
with which you have ursued, first myself in-
div1dually, afterwar my husband, Claude
Markham, in conjunction with myself, cruelly,
maliciously and persistently l”

“ I do,” in a low, distinct voice, and with
bowed head.

_t;,"Your cause or animus for thisl—I demand
1

“ Jealousy l—I loved you tomadness~the love
of an old man, perha , but none the less pow-
erful and engrossing or that.”

‘ ‘ Would you Venture to say that this excuses
your conduct in your own estimation?"

“Good God! no; far from it. There was a
time when I deluded myself into the belief that
it did. You now behold me the victim, the
mined broken victim, no less of self-detestation
than of self-humiliation' so much so that I dare
pot llgok you nor look dlaude Markham in the

ace

“ You may find it difficult to make us be-
lieve this.”

“ What can I do to prove my sincerity i” help-
lessly. “ Heaven knows that I see my detest-
able conduct toward you both in its true and
hldeous light at last!"

“ But even granting the sincerity of your re-

tance, what amends, what recompense is
mi: for what we have suffered at your hands!”

“ N one! I know there is none,” despairingly.
“ There is the curse, the torture of it! ’

“Can you blame us—me—for feeling resent-
ful and unforgiving, than!”

“No, no; God knows I cannot think of such a

thingé’ .

“ by then should you have commissioned
this learned gentleman here to negotiate for the
transfer from our hands to yours of the one last
weapon remaining to us by which we can at
pleasure glut our just vengeance upon you to
the full?”

“ I don’t know—I thought—I feared—l hop
93: But this is too terrible! I cannot hear
1
“And the broken worldling covered his face

to

 

with his hands, the tears trickling out between
the thin, transparent fingers with silent elo-

uence.

q Maud's lips tightened and her bosom heaved,
while even Claude Markham showed evidences
of contemptuous pity.

The detective was immovable as bronze, while
the lawyer drew pen and ink lines upon a slip of
paper he had drawn toward him over the sur-
face of the rich] ornamented writing-table at
which he seated imself with a. calmly judicial
air.

“ Enough of this,” continued Maud, in a
clear, hard voice. “ Sir,” to the lawyer, “ what
consideration are you commissioned by Mr.
Goldkirk to make me for the surrender of what
is known among us as the Castro letter?"

“ A check for fifty thousand dollars,” was the
prompt reply.

She drew the letter from her bosom.

“ Yonder is a gas~jet close by Mr. Goldkirk’s
head " she said. “Will some one lease light
it? i want Mr. Goldkirk to identi y this letter
without its leaving in hands. "

The gas was lighte accordingly.

She advanced, holding the letter spread out
page by page, with the yellow light strikin
strongly upon its contents, while the invali
struggled into a half-sitting posture to devour
them with his hollow and eager eyes.

At last the identification was complete. He
fell back with a sigh, his trembling hands open—
ing and clutching convulsively w ere they had
fallen at his sides. ~

“ You identify the letter?" demanded the
young woman, in the same hard voice.

“ Yes, yes! Oh, God! that I must relinquish
it—that this accursed letter must remain in an-
other’s possession l"

“And this is the letter you offer me fifty
thousand dollars to render up to you i”

“ Yes, yes!” with wild eagerness.

“ Look you, I am no blackmailer.
I refuse to sell what I can bestow.
yours—and destruction’s."

And she calmly held the letter in the flame till
the last shred of it dropped from her hand into
a cuspidore, wholly consumed.

Claude had known his wife too well to be sur-
prised, hut even the iron detective drew a long,
hissing breath, like an unsyllabled protest,
while the lawyer suddenly rose to his feet in his
astonishment.

As for Goldkirk, he started up again with
starting eyes and a great, hollow c .

“ It isn’t ossible l” he gasped. “ he can’t be
humanl” nd he again fell back, exhausted.

Maud turned indifferentlv to nit the room
with her companions, when r. ———,who had
bent his ear to his client’s lips, called upon her
peremptorily to stay.

“One moment!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Gold-
kirk begs to be permitted to make you and your
husbands. sligh gift in appreciation for your
unparalleled generosity, if you will promise to
acce t it.”

ter a hesitatin exchange of glances with
her husband and t e detective, the young wo-
man gave the required promise.

The lawyer hurried to the table, filled out a
check, and supported the banker on his arm
while the latter affixed his Signature to the
same.

“ A mere trifle I” said the lawyer, blotting the
writing, folding up the paper, and respect ully
handing it toMaud. “ But you have gladdened
my client’s heart by deigning to accept it—and
pray remember that an accepted gift cannot be
returned."

The visitors then withdrew.

“ Let us take a look at that check,” suggested
the detective, with a curious air, when they
were outside tgeeilfiuse. t t b k ,

The inspec erepenan aners 'tto-
gather}: and then the young con la saintly
clasped hands while Old Grip tee ' ed his con-

tulation with a hearty slap on the back be-
en Claude Markham's shoulder-blades..

It was a check for one hundred thousand dol-

larsi

The millionaire’s daughter is about the only
one left to dispose of, and it is a sad dutyto
have to as. that Hyman did that for her, with
but little mprovement in the foreign nobility
line that was so dear to the young beauty’s sen-
timental heart.

Six months later she made a runawa match
with a reputed Italian marquis, of do ing ox-
ternals and a poetic address who turned out to
be a Milanese restaurant waiter of more ambi-
tion than an , and less ducats than assur-
ance, who is now usili engaged in making the
banker’s money fly rig t royally.

Blanche is self-sacrificineg assisting him at
the arduous task, havmg accepted her disen-
chantment with a better grace than might be

expected.
s for Goldkirk himself, he is favilingtfm

both physically and mentally, and canno

Therefore
See I it is

lon .

go is one of the sort with whom money con-
stitutes the soul: when that is gone, or is (going,
there is little left for them to live for, an the
might as well step down and out.

THE END.

 

BEADLE’SrDIMErflBRARY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

BUFFALO BILL NOVELS.

By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
826 Buffalo Bill's Lasso Throwers.
822 Buffalo Bill‘s Best Bower.
816 Buffalo Bill‘s Red Trail.
812 Buffalo Bill‘s Death‘Knell.
794 Buffalo Bill‘s Winning Hand.
787 Buffalo Bi|l‘s Dead Shot.
781 Buffalo Bill‘s Brand.
777 Buffalo Bill‘s Spy Shadower.
769 Buffalo Bill‘s Sweepstake.
765 Biffalo Bi ll’s Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam.
761 Buffalo Bill’s Mascot.
757 Buffalo Bill‘s Double.
750 Buffalo Bill.‘s Big Four.
748 Buffalo Bills Flush Hand.
739 Buffalo Bill’s Blind; or, The Masked Driver.
735 Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men.
731 Buffalo Bill‘s Beagles; or, Silk Lasso Sam.
727 Buffalo Bill’s Body Guard.
722 Buffalo Bill on the War- th.
716 Buffalo Bill’s Scout Sha owers.
710 Buffalo Bill Baffled; or. The Deserter Desperado.
697 Buffalo Bill‘s Buckskin Brotherhood.
691 Buffalo Bill’s Blind Trail- or. Mustang Mad e.
667 Buffalo Bill‘s Swoop; or, The King of the M nos.
649 Buffalo Bill‘s Chief of Cowboys; or. Buck Taylor
644 Buffalo Bill‘s Bonanza: or. Si‘ver Circle Knights.
362 Buffalo Bill's Gri ; or. Oath Bound to Custer.
329 Buffalo Bill‘s Pie ge: or. The League of Three.
189 Wild Billis Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen.
175 Wild Bill’s Trump Card: or, The lndian Heiress.
168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot.

By Buffalo Bill.

820 White Beaver‘s Still Hunt.

807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist.

800 Wild Bill. the Dead-Center Shot.

689 Buflalo Bill’s Gold King.

599 The Dead Shot Nine: or. My Pards of the Plains.

414 Red Renard, the Indian Detective.

401 One-Armed Pard; or, Borderland Retribution.

397 The Wizard Brothers: or, White Beaver‘s Trail.

394 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte.

319 Wild Bill. the Whirlwind of the West. ,

304 Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler.

243 The Pll rim Sharp: or. The Soldier's Sweetheart.
83 Gold Bu let Sport: or, Kni hts of the Overland.
52 Death-Trailer. the Chief o Scouts.

By Leon Lewis, Ned Buntllne, etc.

778 Buffalo Bill‘s Ban; or, Cody to the Rescue.

682 Buffalo Bill‘s Secret Service Trail.

629 Buffalo Bill’s Darin Role; or. Daredeath Dick.

517 Buffalo Bill‘s First rail; or, The Express Rider.
158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts.

117 Buffalo Bill s Strange Pard' or, Dashing Dandy.
92 Buflalo Bill, the Buckskin King.

BIZ WILLIAM II. MANNING.

823 The Athlete Sport About Town.
808 TbeCrook-Detective‘s Pull.
790 Plunger Pete, the Race Track Detective.
774 Steve Starr, the Dock Detective.
764 The New York Sharp‘s Shadower.
738 Detective Claxton, the Record Breaker.
714 Gabe Gall, the Gambolier from Great Hump,
703 Spokane Saul, the Samaritan SusEect.
692 DeadrShot Paul, the Deep-Range x lorer.
655 Strawberry Sam. the Man with the irthmark.
646 Dark J 0111), the Grim Guard.
638 Murdock. the Dread Detective.
623 Dan erous Dave, the Never-Beaten Detective.
611 Alkai Abe the Game Chicken from Texas.
596 Rustler Rube: the Round—Up Detective.
585 Dan Dixon’s Double. _
575 Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives.
563 Wyoming Zeke, the Hots ur of Honeysuckle.
551 Garry Kean, the Man wit Backbone.
539 Old Doubledark, the Wily Detective.
531 Saddle-Chief Kit, the Prairie 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 Pacific Pa- l. the Mail Train Spy.
492 Border Bullet, the Prairie sharpshooter.
6 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 Dec Duke: or, The Man of Two Lives.
427 The ivals of Montana Mill.
415 Hot Heart, the Detective 
405 Old Bald , the Brigadier o uck Basin.
385 Will Die Turpin, the Leadville Lion.

297 Colorado Rube. the Strong Arm of Hots ur.
279 The Gold Dragoon, or, California 13100 ound.
BY HAROLD PAYNE.

821 The Tramp Shadower’s Backer.

813 The i-lham S otter‘s Shrewd Scheme.

806 The Grand treet Gold-Dust Sharpers.

798 Detective Barr‘s Lunavic Witness; or, The River-
side Drive Death-Mystery.

792 The Wall Street Sharpcr‘s Snap.

784 Thad Burt’s Death Drop.

742 Detective Burr Among he New York Thugs.

734 Detective Burr‘s Foil- or, A Woman’s Strategy.

728 Detective Burr. the Headquarters Special.

713 Detective Burt’s Spirit Chase.

706 Detective Burt's Seven Clues.

698 Thad Burr, the Invincible: or, The “L ” Clue.

690 The Matchless Detective.

680 XX, the Fatal Clew: or, Burr's Master Case.

BY LIEUT. A. K. SIMS.
804 The King Pin of the Leadville Lions.
786 Chicago Charlie’s Diamond Haul.
776 Chicago Charlie, the Columbian Detective.
758 The Wizar l King Detective.
723 Tesmster Tom, tlile Boomer Detective.
709 Lodestone mg" e Chain 1&1; tpit Chestnut Burr.
695 Sin er Sam he ' m e ve.
688 Rivir Bustiers; or. ii]: Detective from ’Way Back
673 Stuttering Sam the Whitest Sport of Santa Fe.
666 Old Adamdnt, t e Man of Rock.
618 Kansas Karl, the Detective King.
552 Prince Primrose, the Flower of the Flock.
528 Huckleberry, the FootHxlis Detective.

 

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

824 The Soft Hand Detective.
815 The Soft Hand‘s Clutch. '
809 Dan Dunn, the Soft-Hand Sport.
796 The Frisco Detective‘s Thug-Tangle.
789 Sam Cary. the River S art.
780 The Dead Sport‘s Dou i9.
771 Prince John, Detective S ecial.
763 Dandy Don, the Denver etective.
754 The Man from Texas; or, Dangerfield, the
Doctor Detective.
744 Swee takes Sam, the Silver Sport.
720 The Secret Six~ or, Old Halcyon.
712 The Man of Sil '.
705 Bantam Bob. the Beaut from Butte.
693 Kent Kasson, the Preac er Sport.
683 Bob Breeze. the Rolinder Detective.
675 Steel Surry, the Sport from Sunrise.
668 Solemn Saul’s Luck Streak. '
661 The GetrThere Sharp.
651 Silvertip Steve, the Sky Scraper from Siskiyou.
645 Gopher Gabe, the Unseen Detective.
636 Dandy Darling, Detective.
627 Mossback Mose, the Mountaineer.
617 The Gri Sack Sharp‘s Even up.
597 Big Ban y, the Brigadier of Brimstone Butte.
588 sandy Sands, the Sharp from Sna City.
576 Silver-Tongued Sid: or, Grip Sack arp‘s Sweep.
564 The Grip-Sack Sharp: or. The Seraphs of Sodom.
555 Grip-Sack Sid. the Sample Sport.
547 The Buried Detective; or, Saul’s Six Sensations.
541 Mayor Magnet, the Man of Nerve.
535 Dandy Dutch. the Decorator from Dead-Lift.
527 Dandy Andy, the Diamond Detective.
514 Gabe Gunn, the Grizzl from Ginseng.
504 Solemn Saul. the Sad an from San Saba.
495 Rattlepate Rob: or. The Roundhead‘s Reprisal.
488 The Thorn hbred Sport.
474 Dadd Dea -Eye, the Despot of Dew Drop.
466 Old ugh and dy, 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 Leo; 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 lmps of Pan Handle.
403 The Nameless Sport.
895 Deadly Aim, the Duke of Derringers.
387 Dark urg. the Ishmael of the Hills.
379 Howling Jonathan, the Terror from Headwaters.
372 Cafigain Crisp, the Man with a Record.
367 A yal Flush: or, Dan Brown’s Big Game.
360 Jumping Jerry, the Gamecock from Sundown.
355 Stormy Steve. the Mad Athlete.
351 Nor‘ West Nick. the Border Detective.
845 Masked Mark, the Mounted Detective.
339 Spread Eagle Sam. the Hercules Hide Hunter.
331 Chis a Charley. the Gold Nugget Sport.
324 Old orked Lightning. the Solitary.
317 Frank Lightt‘oot, the Miner Detective.
302 Faro Saul. the Handsome Hercules.
292 Moke Homer, the Boss Roustabout.
286 Pistol Johnny: or. One Man in a Thousand.
283 Sleek Sam, the Devil of the Mines.
257 Death Trap Dig 'ngs: or, A Man ‘Way Back.
249 Elephant Tom. 0 Durango.
241 Spitfire Saul. King of the Bustiers.
283 The Old Boy of Tombstone.
20] Pirate of the Placers: or, Joa(}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 E 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: or. Mississippi Man Shark.

67 The Boy J ockey; 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 Lightning Shot.

40 Long-Hal Pards: or. The Tartors of the Plains.
30 Gospel George; or,Fiery Fred. the Outlaw.
28 Three-Fingered Jack, the Road-Agent.

BY WILLIAM R. EYSTEB.

828 Kirk King, the Man from Kirby.

818 Gentleman Dave, the Dead Game Sport.

783 The King-Pin Tramp.

767 The Sport of Silver Bend.

713 Uncle Bedrock’s Big Bounce.

707 The Rival Rovers.

687 Double Cinch Dan, the Sport With a Charm. I
677 Mr. Jackson the Gent from Jaybird.

659 Gilt-Edge Jo uni; or, Roldan and His Rovers.
650 Luck Lester‘s o e Hand.

634 Old andcart‘s Big Dump.

622 The All Around S orts.

603 Desert Alf, the an With the Cougar.

590 Gentle Jack. the High Roller from Humbug.

578 Seven Shot Steve, the Sport with a Smile.

568 The Dude Detective.

558 Hurrah Harry, the High Horse from Halcyon.
549 Belshazzar Brick, the Bailiff of Blue Blazes.
533 Oregon. the Sport With a Scar.

525 Fresh Frank, the Derringer Daisy.

508 The Dude from Denver.

478 Pinnacle Pete; or. The Fool from/Way Back.
459 Ma§or Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives.

429 Hz. r Trigger Tom of Red Bend.

402 Snapshot Sam; or. The A els‘ Flat Racket.
396 The Piper Detective; or, e Gilt Edge Gang.
375 Royal Geo e, the Three in One. ' ,

356 Three Han some S orts; or, The Combination.
344 Double Shot Dave 0 the Left Hand.

833 Derringer Dick, the Man with the Drop.

300 A Sport in S ectacles; or, Bad Time at Bunco.
268 Magic Mike, ‘ e Man of Frills.

229 Captain Cut-sleeve; or, The Little Sport.

214 The Two Cool Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch.
192 The Lightning S ort.

182 Hands Up; or, 9 Knights of the Canyon.

160 Soft Hand, Sharp: or, The Man with the Sand.
145 Pistol Pards; or, The Silent Sport from Cinnabar

fl

ALBERT W. AIKEN’S NOVELS.
Dick Talbot Series.

7-11 Dick Talbot’s Close Call.
737 Dick Talbot in A )ache Land.
733 Dick Talbot. the anch King.
729 Dick Talbot’s Clean»0ut.
727i Dick Talbot in No Man’s Camp.
381 Dick Talbot in the Rockies: or. Injun Dick.
354 Dick Talbot: 01, The Brand of Crimson Cross.
349 Dick. the Gentleman Roan-Agent.
107 Dick Talbot, of Cinnabar.
93 Dick Talbot. King of the Road. 4
41 Dick Talbot in Utah: or, Gold Dan.
38 Dick Talbot‘s lron Grip; or. The Velvet Hand. 1
36 Dick Talbot; or. The Death-Shot of Shasta.
35 Dick Talbot at the Mines: or, Kentuck. the Spottbi
34 Dick Tolbot‘s Foe; or. Rocky Mountain Rob. 3
33 Dick Talbot at White Pine: or, Overland Kit.

Aiken’u Fresh of Frisco Series.

8125 Fresh, the Race-Track Sport.
660 The Fresh in Montana: or. Blake's FullvHand.
652 The Fresh‘s Rustic at Painted City.
647 The Fresh at Santa Fe: or The Stranger Sharp.‘
556 Fresh. the Sport: or. The B g Racket at Slide Out.
537 Fresh A ainst the Fiefd; or, Blake. the Lion.
529 The Fres of Frisco in New York.
497 The Fresh in Texas; or. Tlul Escobedo Millions.
461 The Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Grande.

173 The Fresh in Arizoua; or, California John.

130 The Fresh in Mexico’ or. Captain Volcano.

97 The Fresh in Big Walnut Camp; or, Bronze Jack

77 The Fresh 01' Frisco.

Alken’s Joe Plienix Serlel.
799 Joe Phenix's Great Blue Diamond Case; or, Thcl
New York Sport at Long Branch. 1
793 Joe Phenix’s Decoy: or The Man of Three.
760 Joe Phenix‘s Lone Han .
749 Joe Phenix‘s Big Bulge.
745 Joe Phenix’s Mad Case.
708 Joe Phenix‘s Siren; or, The Woman Hawkshaw.
700 Joe Phenix’s Unknown; or. Crushing the Crooks
681 Joe Phenix‘s S ecinIS' or. The Actress Detective
637 Joe Phenix in ‘razy Camp. _
632 Joe Phenix's Master Search.
628 Joe Phenix’s Combine ; or,the Dandy Conspirator
620 Joe Phenix‘s Silent Six.
601 Joe Phenix‘s Shadow : or.the Detective’s Monitor
419 Joe Phenix., the King of Detectives.
891 Joe Phenix‘s Still Hunt.
161 Joe Phenix‘s Great Man Hunt.
112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League. )
79 Joe Phenix. the Police Spy.
Alken’s Miscellaneous Novels.

814 The New Yorker Among Texas Sports.
775 King Dandy, the Silver Sport.
753 Gideon's Grigtat Babylon Bar.
717 Capmianat cGowen, the Greencoat Detective.
674 Uncle Sun UP, the Born Detective.
670 The Li htwe ght Detective. .
665 The sec Detective; or, The Golden Gate Find.
613 Keen Billy, the Sport.
607 Old Benzine the “Hard Case " Detective.
594 Fire Face. the Silver King‘s F Oc.
586 The Silver Sharp Detective.
577 Tom, of Calif< mm; or, Detective’s Shadow Act.
570 The Actress Detective: or, The Invisible Hand.
562 Lone Hand. the Shadow.
520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo.
490 The Lone Hand in Texas.
75 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective.
465 The Actor Detective.
440 The High Hone of the Pacific. .
421 The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants.
408 Doc Grip, the Vendetta of Death.
381 The Gy sy Gentleman: or. hick Fox. Detective
376 Black Beards: 01. The Rio Grande High Horse-
370 The Dusky Detective: or. Pursued to the End.
863 Crowningshield, the DeteCtive '
320 The Genteel Spotter: or The N. Y. Night Hawk.
252 The Wall Street ltiood; or. The Telegriflm Girl.
203 The Double Detective: nr,The Midnight ystery.
196 La Marmoset, the Le iective Queen.
101 The Man from New York.
91 The Winning Oar: or. The Innkeener’s Daughter.
84 Hunted Down: or. The League of Three.
81 The Human Tiger: or. A Heart of Fire.
75 Gentleman George: or, Parlor. Prison and Street.
72 The Phantom Band: or. The 5th Avenue Heiress.
63 The Winged Whale: or, The Red Rupert of Gulf.
59 he Man from Texas: or. The Arkansas Outlaw.
56 he Indian Mazeppa; or, Madman of the Plains.
49 The Wolf Demon: Or. The Kanawha ueen.
42 The California Detective: 0r. The Wire es of N.Y.
31 The New York Shar : or. Th9 F1881] ofmzhtninz.
27 The Spotter Detect ve: or. Girls of New York.

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

829 The Frisco Sharper‘s Cool Hand: or. Routing
the Rooke Crooks. By Harold Payne.

830 Buffalo Bil '5 Boys in Blue: or, The Brimstone
Band’s Blot-out. By Col. P. Ingraham.

831 Shadowing the London Detective; or. Harvey
Hawks' snort-Stog. By 0518?. Howard Holmes.

832 Gid Gale‘s Block ame' or, ld Silvertlp’s Tie~up
at Tangled Pine. By Lleut. A. K. Sims.

838 The.S ortlDetective’s Gri '. or Bouncing the
Race- .ourse Bettors. By ' m. H. Manning-

834 gheCVliildPrSteter RIidersi‘or. Texas Jack’s Terrors.

o . en iss ngra am. ,

885 T e King-Pin Detective' or, The Red Water City
Ciean-Out. By Albert-W. Aiken. ‘

886 The Policy Broker’s Blind' or. Detective Burr 5
Police Puzzle. By Herold Payne. .

837 Curly Kid, the Cheyenne Sport; oi“i Captain
Clean-Up‘s Cool Crew. By Joe. E. Ba ger. Jr. ‘

838 Old Grips Still Running The Bank President 3

. N mlsis. B Jackson no!-

‘839 The Ranch yKingl Dfifiil-Shot; or. Texas Jack’s
Pro . B Buflo o .

840 Soltllinhogk, the Clue-Finder. By Capt. Howard
Holmes.

A rim lame every Wednesday.
Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale r all

Newsdealery ten cents per cop or sent by mail on
recei t of twelve cents each. BBADLE & ADAMS

 

Pub shers. 98 William street, New York.

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