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Elrncrum A8 chnsn CLASS MATTER AT Tm: NEW YORK. N. Y., POST OFFICE.
VIII. LXXIX.

37 JAMES SI'MJVAN.
m. J’. Inc-ts & 11»... Publishers,
(JAMES SULLIVAN. Pum'nlm‘on). Ten can“ a copy'
$1.00 a Year.

1 "1 7 Published Every
' ' 379 Pearl Street. New York.

"a Month.

The Gambler Guardian’s
Double Deal. ‘

BY MAJOR DANGERFIELD BURR.

 

COPYRIGHT. 1898,

 

 

 

 

 

 

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2

 

 

 

ThehqambleEGua1‘dian’s Double Deal.

 

 

 

THE

Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal;

OR.

The Shadow Scourger’s Compact

A Thrilling Story of the Millionaire
Miner's Revenge.

 

BY MAJ. DANGERFIELD BURR.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE DESPERADO'S ESCAPE.

Along a border trail in the far West:

a horseman was riding one afternoon,
“inn, as he entered a heavy forest, he
was startled by shots ringing out rapid-
.ly not very far ahead.

The horseman, well knowing that he
was in a dangerous locality, where
human life was held cheap, spurred for-
ward rapidly, drawing a revolver from
.beneath his sack coat as he did so.

Over a low ridgc he went, to sud-
.denly dash upon a spirited scene.

A horse, saddled and bridied, lay dead ‘

in the trail that wound around the ridge,
and, with his back against a tree, up-
rooted by a recent storm, a man was
standing, fighting off, with drawn knife,
two men who were attacking him, also
with drum weapons, while a third man
lay dad a few feet distant.

“ Help me, comrade, for these men
would kill and rob me!” cried the one
at bay, as he beheld the horseman.

Though the two men were also armed ;
with revolvers, they had not used them, ‘
but now, alarmed at the horseman’s,‘
coming, they quickly turned upon the'

newcomer and opened fire.

Down went his horse, shot thrOugh'

the head, but the rider was upon his
feet in an instant; a rapid firing followed,
.and the desperadoes went down under it.

Then the newcomer hastened to the
:stranger, who said faintly, as the rescuer
approached:

“They attacked ~me, knowing I had
money, but would not kill me, hoping
to force more from me.

“They were desperate men, outlaws,
and you have saved me—”

He reeled and fell as he .spoke, and
the rescuer- sprung to his side.

He hastily examined his wounds, for
he had received two, a. bullet mark on
the head, and a. knife thrust in. the
shoulder.

Stepping to his fallen horse, the res-
cuer took from his saddle a small moroc-
co case, and soon was dressing the
wounds of the now insensible man.

" This is a bad one on the head, and
he has lost much blood from this knife
thrust in his shoulder; but, I hope he
will pull through.

“ Well, this is nice for me, stopped
when hastening on my way to secure
a place that I hoped would prove to be

i “Will I die, pard? I hain’t flt ter
hand in my chips without a season 0’
prayer,” said the man, piteously.

“I think you will pull through,” was
the curt answer, and, going over to the
camp which he had selected, he soon
erected a brush shelter, and with the
2 blankets of the two dead men made a
sheltered retreat.

Into this he carried the two wounded
men, and made them as comfortable as
possible.

The pack of the desperadoes contained
much that was useful, and there were,
also, ample provisions in it, so that no
fear of their lacking food troubled him.

By nightfall he had his camp com-
pleted, and the twowounded men were

was, indeed, as tender a nurse to the
desperado as to the one he had so nobly
rescued. I

The two ruffians who had fallen in the
fight were decently buried, and such of
their things as were of use were ap—
propriated for the comfort of the other.

Thus several weeks passed, and one

i
|
l
l
j
I

find the desperado gone!

On his blanket was pinned a slip of
paper, on which was written the follow-
~ing, with a lead pencil:

“ Dear ,Pard:

I “When I were a Sundy schule kid I
heard tell 0’ a good Sermaritan as nussed
a wounded man he found by ther side 0'
a trail out 0’ Jerusalem.

g “ Now, you is t'het good man, fer,

 

leetle 'game 0’ my 'pards and me, ter
l rob ther gent as you saved.

“Now. my pards hev gone, and yer
buried ’em decint, and as I ar' able ter
skip, I will tarry no longer, so bids you
adoo, with thanks fer yer kindness.

“ I takes only my own boss and
weepOns, leavin’ you and Mister Vernon
them as belonged to my pards, and ther
' pack animile as well.

“ I has been better than you thoughted
me 0’ late, for I hed ther idee o’ieavin’
without tellin’ yer, as Mister Vernon
umay want ter hang me‘fer what he

knows agin me, tho’ he hev been friend-
, ly-like, I admit, since we hev been lyin’
along side by side wounded, and we has
often talked 0’ your goodness.

” Tell Mister Vernon adoo fer me, and
now adoo to yerself, with ther hope I
may some day be able ter sarve you a
good turn as yer deserves.

“ No more from » _

“ Yours trooley,

“ BOWIE BILL.”

Such was the letter which the young
surgeon read to the one whom he had
rescued.

“ I am glad he has gone, for I cared not
to prosecute him, as I found he was
not so bad as he appeared.

 

the foundational? my "fortune; but, hu-
manity demands the sacrifice, and I make
it cheerfully.”

He fully realized that he was thirty.
miles from the-nearest habitation, with
a seriously wounded man upon his
hands, his horse dead, and two despera-
does to bury—not all three, for he now
discovered that one he had fired upon
was yet alive.

“ Well, here goes to make the best of a
bad bargain.”

He looked about him, and saw in the
distance four horses, three of them sad-
dled, the other a pack animal.

that beyond the ridge he had noticed,

‘off the trail, a brook and a good shelter
among the pines; so he at once went
after the horses and led them all there.

Then he looked to the wounded des-
perado, who had a bullet in his breast.

“ It is‘fortunate for you, my man, that
I happen to ‘be a surgeon, for I may be
able-buys. your life," he remarked, as
he probed the wound and, ere long, ex-

 

“He was led to do what he did by
the others, I am sure, and they met
their just deserts, for I had befriended
them, often, in the mines.

“But, Bowie Bill, as he calls himself,
told me that you were going to take a
place as surgeon on a Government sur—
vey expedition, when you were detained
by your goodness .to me? ”

“Yes, sir; I was on my way to join
the expedition.”

“When does it start?”

“ It has gone—over two weeks ago."

“ Then you lost your place? ”

" That does not matter, sir. for I can
return to the settlement where I had
hung out my shingle as a doctor, and
will do well, I dare say.”

“I am sorry ” and this was all that
Mr. Vernon, as Bowie Bill had called
him, said.

Two weeks after the rescued man was
able to travel, and the-now two warm
friends parted atI-the ‘railroadlstation,
the young physician returning to resume

doing as well as could be expected. He .

morning the surgeon rescuer awoke to‘

he had explained to Mr. Vernon, he had
left to accept a position as surgeon of
l a survey expedition.
' “Here is my address, sir," said Mr.
,Vernon, as they parted at the station.
E “so call upon me if I can serve you l'l
5 any way, as I owe you my life, and you
‘have made great sacrifices for me: i
I would only be too happy to repay my
,5 obligations, even in a small way.”
‘ The card given him read:

“ Walter Vernon,
I Gold Miner.
E San Francisco.

 

California."

’ ___.
i’ CHAPTER II.

THE MINER'S OFFER T0 DUDLEY Nommx.
I In a country town, in the interior e.
lthe State of Maryland, a young mu,”
,was seated in a small ofllce, lost in
thought.

The office was in one room of a little
cottage, and a bedroom adjoining, wi..li
a diminutive kitchen and dining room
beyond, showed that the occupant Was
not blessed with an abundance of this
world’s goods.

Time was when the Normans were
the leading people of the town, and the
old mansion on the hill had been their
family home for several generations;
but a wild brother of the judge had
swamped the estate, and the twin broth-
ers, Randolph and Dudley, had been left
only a good education and a few hundred

 

though yer wounded me, yer was right;
in doin’ so, as I were aimin’ fer your,
life, bein’ as yer interfered with ther:

 

~ his .wpractice «in the~~settlementp which: as

-'camp in California, "which a '-feHoiw-

dollars with which to make their for-
tunes.

Dudley had chosen medicine, and went
West to find a place in which to settle
and practice.

Randolph had selected the law, and
had hung out his shingle as an attorney
in his native town, but with indifferent
success, for the five years he had been
practicing there had by no means en-
riched him, though rumor had it that he
had led a'fast life and gambled heavily,
so could not lay aside much.

As he sat in his office that afternoon
his face was clouded, and‘ his muttered
words revealed the reason.

“I must get money in some way, for
I have lost at the gaming table every
dollar of the Widow Dale's funds en-
trusted to me, and the heirs demand a
settlement one month from to-day.

“I wonder if Dudley is able to help
ine, as I wrote and asked him to do—
ah! here comes my mail,.and I hope it
brings a letter from him.”

As he spoke his office boy, and, in
fact, man-of—all-work, entered and hand-

'ed..him several letters.

He eagerly opened one and read aloud,
as follows:

“ Omaha. Neb..
“ Oct. 10th. 18——
“ My dear Brother.

“ Within you will find a draft on New
York for five hundred dollars, all mat
I can possibly afford now, in answer to
your urgent appeal, as I have been in
a streak of ill fortune of late years.

“The settlement where I hoped to do
well I left to take a surgeon’s position
in a large surveying expedition into the
Rocky Mountains, which would last for
a couple of years at least.

“While on my way to the starting
point I had an aventure, in which I res-
cued a gentleman from desperadoes, and
as he was badly wounded, as also was
one of his assailants, I delayed for weeks
to take care of them, and the result of
which was that I lost my place.

“I now have a letter from the des-
perado, Bowie Bill, and the California
gentleman, Mr. Walter Vernon, as sou-
venirs of my good werk; but of course
I would -not have accepted pecuniary
consideration for services rendered under
the circumstances.

“I then came to the neighborhood of

this town, from where my letter is-head-
ed, and have done lordinarily well: but I

leave here next week to go to a mining

.{1’

     

        

  
 

student writes me to take off his hands,
as he is to get married, and the place
pays handsomely, he says, though it is
far away from civilization.

“Perhaps I could lend you a helping
hand some time in the future, for I will
,3. 1 nd you my address. I
 “I had begun to fear you wished to
drop corresponding with me, and it
pained me deeply, as my letters were
only answered yearly.

“We are all that are left, Randolph,’
and drawn more closely together from‘
being twin brothers, so do not let us lese l
sight of each other.

“I am glad to send you the within
draft, for I do not need it, and, from
your letter, you need it sadly.

“Win every good wish for your pros—
perity, believe me, ever affectionately,
“Your brother,

“DUDLEY NORMAN.”

“Five hundred, and I need five times
that sum—ha! why, here is a letter for
Dudley, and it is postmarked San Fran-
cisco.

“ lZow can it have come here, since it
 not e'ien addressed in my care?

“\That if it can be from the Cali-
fornian his letter says he served so well.

“I am half tempted to open it—by
Heavenlbut I will!

“ It may help me out. \Vho knows?

“And if it shotr‘j not I can say i
never no;i ‘cd that it was to Dudley until
I opcncd it, and I really do not believe
the Postmaster did either.

“ Ile merely saw the name Norman.

“ lad it been our late Postmistress
it would not have escaped her inquisitve
eyes—nothing ever escapes the curious
eyes of a woman, and if I ever get to
Congress I’ll bring a law before that
august assemblage to prohibit women
frorn being put in Post Offices."

He turned the letter over and over
‘in his hands, as he talked, and then,
by a sudden impulse, ran his paper cut-
ter through the envelope.

The letter was drawn out and a check
fluttered to the floor.

He eagerly seized it, and gave a low
whistle as he saw that it was for five
thousand dollars and payable to his
brother.

Then he read the letter.

It was dated at San Francisco, one
month before, and was as follows:

 

“ My dear Doctor Norman:

. “ Let me recall myself to your memory
by describing a scene in my life:

“A young man left his home near the
city of New York, years ago, to seek his
fortune in the gold fields of California.

“He was favored by fortune, and re-
turning home to visit his kindred, found
his parents dead, and, in fact, no one
near or dear to him.

“The grand old family homestead,
with a heavy mortgage upon it, had been
left to him, that was all.

“He paid off the mortgage, married
one who had been his girl sweetheart,
and returned to California.

“His wife died, so he sent his only
child, a daughter, to school in New York,
and he was on his way to visit her, rid-
 ing across country along the overland
, -until he could strike the railroads, when
 he was ambushed by three men, who
had followed him to get him into their
power and force from him a large sum
of money, for they had been in his em-
ploy and knew him well.

, “He had killed one, but his fate would
* \ have been quickly sealed had not a res-
 cuer arrived, shot one of his assailants
dead, wounded the other, and thus saved
his life.
“You need no more to tell you who
I am, my dear Norman, and well know
all that YOU did for me, and for my foe.
‘ tco, Bowie Bill, as we lay wounded in
that little frontier camp.
“I intended that you should have
heard from me soon after; but a letter

;' ment where you had been practicing, and

l were talking,

 

sent to your address was returned to

   

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

“Then I advertised in the New York ‘1

Herald, but got no reply, so I gave it?
up, after sending a man to the settle—

learning that you had gone, no one there
could give the slightest clue whiher.

“Now to the point, my dcar friend,
and I address you knowing that my let-
ter, this time, will reach you, for it
flashed upon me one day that, while we
you had said you were
from Maryland, and mentioned your
native town, where you had a brother.

“The wound I received on the head
in that affair, when you came to my
rescue, has given me. much trouble.

“At times I seem to be dazed, and
quite lose my identity, and my physi-
cian has advised that I settle up mY,
worldly affairs while I am yet able to
do so, and I take the good advice.

“I am a. very rich man, my dear Nor-
man, and I have lately had my old
homestead near New York on the Hud-
son, fitted up, with a view,of going there
to end my days with my child, who is
my sole heiress.

“To your care I intrust that child,
making you her guardian and the ex-
ecutor of my estate, and my will is so
made.

“I start at once for New York State,
to enter an asylum, where I am to be
placed under a treatment that may pos-
sibly result in my cure, though the
chances are greatly against me.

“I however place in your hands full
power of attorney to control my for-
tune, and the inheritance ,of my only
child, Vzolet, now a girl of eight years of
age.

“You are to have full powers, as 1
said, sending money for my needs, as
long as I live, and using my income as
though it were your own, for when
Violet reached her eighteenth year, you
are to divide equally between you all
that I may own at that time.

“ I know not exactly how your financial
affairs stand, so beg you to accept the
within check to square up your matters
and come to New York and meet me
one month from the date of this letter.

“Come at once to my old homestead
of Glen Idle, for the s‘eamer will land '
you within a mile of the place.

“ Should the amount of the enclosed
check not be sufficient for your uses,
draw on me at sight for as much more
through the Chemical Bank of New
York: but be sure and meet me, for 1
wish not to delay entering the institu-
tion where I so hope for recovery.

" Ever your attached friend,

“WALTER VERNON."

Time and time again did Randolph
Norman read this interesting and im-
portant letter, and then he sat in silent
thought from which even the darkness
of approaching night did not arouse him.

“Supper’s ready, sah,” said his serv-
ant, opening the door.

He sprung to his feet with an almost
startled cry. and then said hoarsely: V

“It is my destiny! By Heavens! butt
I will do it! I will take the risk, for
the stake is too great to hesitate!"

 

 

 

CHAPTER III.

“TWO CAN anr AT TIIIS GAME.”

An old stone mansion, erected before:
the Revolution, and added to by re-
spective generations until its heir and
last owner, Walter Vernon, had relieved
it from mortgages and put upon it many
improvements, Glen Idle had come t01
be a lordly house and most valua-
ble estate, with its hundreds of acres
around it.

With the intention of making it his'
home, and bringing his daughter there
under a competent governess, Walter!
Vernon, who had dug and secured an
enormous fortune out of the mines in
California. had fitted Glen Idle mansion;
up without regard to cost, and furnished 
with a degree of taste and luxury thatf
showed a refinement of nature one

.not disappointed, for a visitor was seen

 
  
 
 
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
    
   
  
   
      
   
      
     
    
        
    
   
      
    
   
   
    
   
  
   
    
     
     
   
    
     
  
    
  
   
  
 
 
     
       
   
          
      
       
     
           
 
      
         
 
          
     
   
       
         
     
     
 

3

 

 

 

would not have expected from a re-
turned miner.

There were fine horses and vehicles in
the stables, the hothouses were filled
with choice plants and flowers, the gar—
dens were all that could be desired, and
blooded cattle were in the barns and
pastures.

Then the home was so furnished as
to leave nothing for the heart to desire,
for the old and rare paintings even had - ,
been touched up and newly framed, many ‘  7
books added to the library, and well- ‘
trained servants secured. ' < ,5

And just as he expected to enjoy all "
this in the society of his loved daughter,
Walter Vernon realized that he was not
the mar. he had been, his head constant-
ly pained him where he had been wound-
ed that day on the border trail when'
Doctor Norman had rescued him.

He knew that he dared not trust to
himself, and physicians had urged that-
he place himself for treatment in an
asylum

His estates were in perfect condition,.
his large income coming in regularly
without a flaw, and there was a very
large credit in bank on deposit.

It was a dangerous power to put in one'
man’s hands. There was, however,
one-half of his wealth so secured, as the
property of his little daughter, that it
could not be touched until she was eigh-
teen, so that she would at least be a
very rich heiress then, even were the
rest of her fortune swept away.

But, what Dudley Norman had done
for him, \Valter Vernon knew showed
that he was a man to trust, and so he
wrote the letter giving him full power
to act as he himself might with his vast
fortune, and telling him to meet him at
Glen Idle This letter fell into the hands
of Randolph Norman, the young lawyer
struggling for a living in a country
town, and gambling his earnings, and
the money entrusted to him by others
away.

Little Violet, with a competent gov-
erness, went to Glen Idle to meet her
father, and they had been there but a.
few days when, one afternoon, the
steamboat, up river bound, was seen to
stand in toward the dock, a mile from a
the mansion. ‘ 

Each day had Mr. Vernon ordered ,7;
the carriage to meet the boat, expecting 
Dudley Norman, and this day he was

to step from the vehicle as it rolled up
to the grand stairway leading to the
piazza.

Little Violet peeped at him curiously,
for her father had told her all about
the brave man who had saved his life,
killing one desperado and wounding
another to do so, and had then nursed
him through long weeks of suffering.

He had told her how the doctors had
ordered him, her father, to go to an
institution for treatment, and that the 
brave gentleman, Doctor Norman, was 
to be her guardian. ' ‘ '

So little had Violet really known of her
own father, and she was so young, that,
naturally, the change was not one of
great grief to her, but she was curious
to see what her “new papa " was like.

She beheld a man six feet in height,
broad shouldered, splendidly formed.
and with a dark, handsome face, enliv-
ened by the brightest and most ex-
pressive eyes she had ever seen.

She even noticed that his hands and .
feet were small and shapely. and that:
he said to Buck, the coac'hman, as he left.
the carriage. in a very polite manner:

“ Thank you.”

Mr. Vernon met him at the door, and ,
warmly grasped his hand. ’
“ My dear Norman, I am so glad you
have come, for I was sure my second
letter could not miss you, sent to your
old home. But, how well you are look-
ing."

“I am feeling well. sir; but you cer-
tainly do not strike one as being an in-
valid.” _ ./ . ~ 5

 

  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
    
  
  
   
   
    
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
   

4

The Gambler-Guardian’sDouble Deal.

  

 

 

 

“Ah, my dear friend, it is all here,"
and he touched the wound over his tem-
pie.

“I feel no confidence in myself, and
will be glad to get away to where I can
have rest and treatment.

“You understand just what you are
to be to me and mine: but we will talk
it all over when you come down from
your room and after dinner, for I must
get off to-morrow night on the boat—-
I dare not delay, my dear Norman.”

The young man went to his room,
escorted by a servant, and was charmed
with all about him, and the grand View
of the Hudson, which was visible in the
gathering twilight.

He hastily dressed for dinner, and
when he descended to the grand dining
room, Violet was there to meet him.

“My little daughter Violet, Doctor
Norman, who is now to be your ward
and adopted child,“ said the Califor-
nian.

Violet was a beautiful child of eight,
with great large blue eyes and long

, lashes shading them, until they looked

almost black.

Her features were perfect and her form
was the perfection of childish grace and
symmetry.

A wealth of gold-red hair fell down
her back in waving masses, and alto-
gether the young heiress was very live-
ly and very winning.

She kissed her guardian with a naivete
that was very winning, and said:

“Papa has told me all about you, and
I am going to be such a good little ward
to you.

“Will you be a good guardian to me
in place of my papa? ”

“ Indeed I will, Violet."

“ Then we’ll get along splendidly, for
I can sing a little, and play on the guitar
and piano, and papa says I may take
lessons on the harp, and learn to draw
and paint.

“Then I can ride and drive already,
and you will teach me to shoot a rifle
and pistol, too, won’t you, for I wish to
be thoroughly accomplished and learn
to speak French and German, too.”

The new guardian laughed heartily
at his pretty ward, and seemed to be at
once drawn toward her.

After dinner the two gentlemen sat
in the library until midnight, and Mr.
Vernon told the man he entrusted so
implicitly all about his estate, just how
his property was invested, how much
his income was, the sums in bank, and

‘ everything that was necessary.

The next day the necessary legal pa-
pers were drawn up, and the new mas-

 

   
  
  
   
   
  
  
 

   
  

,’

  
   
 
   
  
   
 

my ~u~.'. z.--

   
   
  
  
    
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
 

 

ter of Glen Idle turned in the check sent

[him for five thousand dollars, which he
[said he had not needed.
5!

v
1

“Well, all is in your hands now, Nor-
man, and I trust you with my fortune

iand child,” was the answer of Walter
lVernon, and that afternoon he left Glen

Idle for the asylum; for he seemed most
anxious to get himself under restraint.

Several days after the man who had
so suddenly come from comparative
poverty into the control of a vast fort-
une, said that he must leave Glen Idle
for a week, to attend to his own busi-
ness matters, after which he would re-
turn and make his home there.

And, as he departed,'Mrs. Carrol, the
governess of Violet, stood at the win-
dow watching him, muttered:

“ I know you well, Randolph Norman,

 and that you are a rascal; but, two can
3 play at this game that you are playing

now. Whatever it is you are scheming
for I will thwart, for it will be sweet to

‘ wreak revenge on you!”

 

\

CHAPTER IV.
THE VEILED VISITOR. _
When Walter Vernon had advertised
for a governess for his little daughter,
out of the many answers he received
came a letter from Virginia, with which

..he was particularly pleased.

  

 

The letter stated that the writer was
a widow, educated, of good family, and
needed work to support her and a son
who was suffering from a wound received
a year before, and which rendered him a
cripple for life.

Perhaps it was the fact that the son
was a cripple from a wound that in-
fluenced Mr. Vernon, but, certain it was,
he wrote to the applicant and bade her
go at once to Glen Idle and await the
coming of his daughter, who would join
her there, and that ere long he would
follow.

Mrs. Kate Carrol at once obeyed, leav-
ing her wounded son to the care of his
sister in their little cottage home in
Virginia, and Violet, on her arrival, felt
really drawn toward the sad-faced lady.

And Walter Vernon also liked the
governess he had secured for his daugh-
ter, and, to increase her salary, asked
her if she would also be willing to serve
as housekeeper, a duty which the lady
seemed very willing to assume, as teach-
ing her pretty charge by no means oc-
cupied all of her time.

The governess proved herself most
.eificient in her duties as such, for she
was a woman of superior education and
acccomplishments, and as housekeeper
was most thorough, while she was liked
by all the servants.

When presented to her, by Mr. Ver-
non, the new member of Glen Idle had
seemed to start, as though he had met
her before, and he appeared not to be
drawn toward her as the father and
daughter had been.

But, when he returned to Glen Idle,
after ten days' absence, he seemed to
be in a good humor with himself and
the world in general, and was particu-
larly polite to Mrs. Carrol.

But efforts of his to draw that lady
out, about her antecedents, were use-
less, for all that he could learn from
her was that she was a Southerner, and
though her family had once possessed
large wealth, they were then poor, so
that herself and two others were de-
pendent upon her own exertions for a
living.

As the months went by the feeling
against Mrs. Carrol seemed to increase
in the heart of the guardian of Violet,
and he hinted to the little heiress that
he would like to secure for her another
governess; but this caused such imme—
diate consternation on the part of Violet
that he dropped the subject at once.

One day, while the master was in the
city, his mail arrived at Glen Idle and
was given to Mrs. Carrol.

Glancing over the letters, as she plaCed
them on the library table, with consid-
erable interest, one caught her eye par—
ticularly, and she muttered:

“ How strangely like Doctor Norman's
own writing this is, and—yes, it says on
the envelope, ‘If not delivered in ten
days return to Dudley Norman, M. D.,
Sunset Mines, California.’

“I never knew that there were tWO
Dudley Normans, M. D., or that he had
a brother.

“ It only proves to me that this mas-
ter of Glen Idle, so trusted by poor Mr.
Vernon, is up to some deviltry.

“Well, I have had cause to remem-
ber him, Heaven knows; but, little does
he suspect who I am.

“Mr. Vernon has placed all in his
hands beyond recall, and the poor man
seems to get no better as time goes on,
so what is to be done?

“I am well paid here, and I need my
salary, so must submit to serving him
until I can better myself; but if I dis-
cover, as I at first believed, that he is
playing a bold game here, I will play
against him to win.

“ Now, who is this Dudley Norman,
M. D., of California?-

“ That I must find out,” and Mrs. Car-
rol laid the letters on the library table
and left the room. ;

In the time that he had been master
of Glen Idle, the assumed Doctor Nor-

 

man had appeared to lead a most ex-
emplary life. He had completely won
the heart of his little ward, and, though
he lived to himself, as far as the neigh-
bors were concerned, he yet appeared
to enjoy home life at Glen Idle.

At times he would go to his club home
in the city for a few days, and upon his
return Mrs. Carrol would notice that
he looked like a man who had been
keeping late hours while away, as his
eyes were sunken and his face haggard.

In the asylum Walter Vernon did not
seem to grow any better. At times he
wrote most rational letters to both Violet
and her guardian, and then again they
would receive communications that Were
utterly incoherent.

Any luxury that could be purchased /
was given him, and he seemed to pre—
fer remaining in the asylum to coming
to Glen Idle, as Violet and her guardian
had often urged him to do.

Thus nearly a year went by, and when
Doctor Norman returned from New York,
on the occasion referred to when Mrs.
Carrol commented upon his mail, he
started as he entered and caught sight
of the letter lying on top, which had the
name of Dudley Norman, M. D., upon it.

He nervously took it up and saw that
it had been forwarded from his old home
to an address he had given in Baltl-'

vmore, and thence to New York, thence

to Glen Idle.

He hastily broke the seal and read
with a face that paled and a clouded
brow, what was written.

It was as follows:

“ Sunset Mines, Cal.,

" June 1, 18-—-.
“ My dear Brother:

“ I regret to tell you that I have been
a long time ill, from an attack of brain
fever brought on from an injury re-
ceived in the mountains one night, when
my horse fell down an embankment with
me, and I received an injury that pre
vented my getting back to camp, thus
forcing me to remain in a canyon, ex-.-
posed to a pelting storm, until found i
and carried to my cabin.

“I am coming to the old home to rest
for a. few months and regain my health,
and I will have to get your aid, as I have
but a few hundred dollars in the world,
just enough to get me to you, and keep
me along for a while.

“I regret to trouble you, but, as there
are outstanding debts between us of
some two thousand dollars, I know that
you will be willing to cancel them by
caring for me, as I come to you ill and
almost penniless, as I said.

“I am stopping to rest at various
points, and will halt for a few days in
Buffalo, so write me there.

“With the hope that your bachelor
home will accommodate another, and
feeling that I will be welcome, believe
me.

“Always affectionately,

“ DUDLEY.”

D3811ng the letter'to the floor, Ran-
dolph Norman sprung to his feet and
begun to pace to and fro, his face anx-
ious and white.

“ My God! what am I to do? There
cannot be two Dudley Normans, two
doctors—no! no! this must not be, for,
after playing the bold game that I have,
I will not have fortune and honor all
wrested from me by him! ..

“ No, it shall not be! I have too much
at stake; and besides, behind the loss of
my riches will be the charge of gaining
all I have under false pretences and I
will be sent to prison.

“I must think up a plan to prevent
his coming—ah! he must be even now
in Buffalo, and I must meet him there!

“ But, what to do? How to extricate
myself from the danger I am in?

“ Ha! I will do it, and a bright thought
it is, too.

“He is ill, and a sufferer, and be is
almost penniless, while I have a fortune

   

  
   
  
   
 
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
 
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
    
   
  
  
   
    
   
  
   
 

        

. his gaze. '

.a thunder-storm had swept over the

 

 

at my command, yes, and can use it,"
too!

“By Heaven! I wonder if that ac-,
cursed governess saw this letter and
what is written on the envelope?

“Of course she did, and I know that
she is suspicious of me, for it cannot be
simply my guilty conscience that makes
me think so.

“ Well, I am glad she is going without
my having to send her off; but I was a
fool to let her engage a person in her
stead.

“ I will send for her and—”

“ Pardon me, Doctor Norman, but I
came in to say good-by, as I received
word that necessitates my returning
home sooner than I expected, and I only
waited your coming, sir.”

“ And the governess in your stead,
Mrs. Carrol, when will she arrive?”
asked Randolph.

" She will return in the carriage that
takes me to the station, as her train
arrives at the same hour as mine, sir;
but you found your letters all right? ”

” Oh yes, and one from a cousin, whose
name, by the way, is the same as mine,
and he is a. physician, too.

“ Poor fellow, he is ill in Buffalo, so I
shall have to run on there to see him,
and of course do not wish to have Violet
alone."

“ Of course not, sir, and the body who
takes my place will soon arrive.

“I am sorry, sir, very sorry to give
up my sweet charge, but as I told you,
my invalid son demand. my constant
care now, as he is growing worse each
day. You will find the new governess
mest competent, sir; but I must hurry
away.”

Mrs. Carrol hastened from the room‘
and the carriage soon after rolled away
with her to the station.

Violet had a little friend visiting her,
so Randolph was left to his own medi-
tations, and he paced the library in no
enviable frame of mind, for the coming
home of his twin brother, who, from the
really startling resemblance between
them, he had so well impersonated, was
a thorn in his side that caused him to
suffer greatly.

“He shall not come between me and
my fortune, my future, not at any cost,”
he said, almost savagely, and he started
as the carriage drove up to the door,
returning from the depot.

He saw a lady alight—a slender, grace-
ful form, but the face was veiled, and
he stepped to the library door to greet
her as the butler ushered her in, asking
with a smile:

“I am Doctor Norman, so may I ask
if you are my ward's new governess?”

He bowed in a courtly manner, and,
as the butler returned to his duties, she,
moved into the room, threw back her'

 

 

veil, the act displaying a pale, but beau- , h

tiful face, while she answered: “I am'
your ward’s new governess, Randolph
Norman, and your wife as well! ”

 

CHAPTER V.
THE FAIR RESCUER.

Some two years before the scene when
a woman, calling herself the wife of
Randolph Norman, suddenly appeared
before him at Glen Idle, in the person of
the new governess of Violet Vernon, a
young man stood in a mountainous dis-
trict of the State of Virginia, regarding
with deep interest and admiration the
beautiful landscape stretched out before

There was a beautiful valley, dotted

with farms here and there, belts of forest- .

land, a large stream, with numerous
brooks flowing toward it, and a back—
ground of a. lofty and rugged range of
mountains.

The young man was dressed in sports-
man’s garb, and, resting upon his gun,
stood like one enrapt by the view, for

 

distant mountains, the lightning played
in vivid arrows against the dark clouds,
{the thunder came in peals, like the boom

of heavy guns, and the rain descended in

1 torrents.

“I must hasten, for I shall not only
get a ducking if I do not, but the brooks
will rise so I shall be unable to cross
them,” said the huntsman, and throwing
his gun over his shoulder, and the strap
of his well-filled game-bag arOund his
neck, he set ofi at a rapid walk down
the steep mountain side.

Entering a heavy bit of timber, he
came to a rustic bridge spanning what
had been in the morning a rivulet, but
which was now a surging torrent of mud-
dy waters.

“Just in time,” he said, as he sprung
upon the bridge, which was already quiv—
ering under the rush of the whirling

' stream.

But, as he spoke, an uprooted tree
dashed against one of the uprights on
which the bridge rested, and tore it from
its hold.

Strong as he was, and capable of great
endurance, he found that he was power-
less in that mad torrent.

The banks, too, were steep and rocky,
and to land was to be dashed to death,
even could he have done so.

At length he felt that the end was
near, and the sins of a life-time crowd-
ed upon his brain and heart, for it seem-
ed that he could no longer fight against
death.

Just then the torrent widened, the
banks less high and steep, were over-
flowed by the pent-up stream, and he
was fairly hurled forward to where his
feet touched bottom. ~

He made a gigantic effort, for before
his almost blinded vision he beheld a
cottage and heard voices.

But his strength failed him and he
was being borne on once more when
he felt himself seized in a strong grasp,
his arm was hurled over some one’s
shoulder, and he was dragged shoreward.

It was a woman who had seized him-
nay, a young girl, with a. wealth of
golden hair hanging down her back.

She had rushed into the water to her

waist, and, grasping his arm, had thrown
it over her shoulder, and thus sought to
save him.
' With one more mighty effort she
reached the bank just as an old negress
rushed to her aid, and the two dragged
the now unconscious man up to safety.

When the young man awoke to con-
sciousness he found himself upon the
piazza of a pretty cottage, and, the ne-
gress was by his side.

“ It was not you that saved me, aun-,
tie? ” he said, as he gazed upon her.

“I guesses I didn’t, sah; it were young

vmissy that run inter de torrent and

pulled you asho’, sah, and I only help ter
drag yer out.”

“ I guess you did your share; but,
where is your young missy, as you call
er?”

“ She seen yer was comin’ back to yer
senses, sah, and she done gone ter git
on dry clothes.”

“I see; but tell me who it is that I
owe my life to, for I was about gone
when I caught sight of this cottage and
saw a young girl, as .I thought, run into
the stream and grasp my arm.”

“Dat’s so, sah; she seen yer comin'

flyin’ dOWn de stream, sah, and call ter ,
and I '

me dere was a man drownin',
runned out here, and seen her go inter
de overflow and grab you, sah. She
drug yer ashore, sah, up ter high land.

“ It was a hard struggle, and but for
your mistress I would now be a dead
man; but tell me who she is? ”

“ Missy Kathleen Carrol, sah, of 0‘s

, Virginy.”

“Yes, I know this is Virginia, for I

came here for a few weeks’ hunt in the I

mountains, and am stopping up at the
tavern in the village.

“But this is Miss Kathleen Carrol’s
farm, I take it?”

" Yes, sah; leastways. it's her ma’s.”

“ I see, and she and her me. live here,

I do they, in this pretty little home? ”

“Yas. massa; missus. Missy Kathleen,

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

  

5

 

 

who teaches de country school, me, and
two other colored folks, and Mars’ Ben-
nett, who am off at college, libs here, for
ole massa been dead dese six year.”

Thus did the young hunter get the
history of his fair rescuer and her fam-
ily, and he was about to ask another
question of the old negress when he
heard a light step, and out upon the
piazza there came a perfect Vision of
feminine beauty, in the person of “ Missy
Kathleen Carrol of Ole Virginy.”

“I am glad to see you recovered, sir,
and have brought you a glass of brandy,
while Aunt Phillis will ,show you to my
brother’s room, where you will find dry
clothing, for you are about his size, I
think, sir.”

“ I will drink the brandy, Miss Carrol,
for I am chilled; but I think I can then go
on to the village, where I am stopping,
and so give you no more trouble than
I have already done, for I know that I
have to thank you for saving my life,:
and if I cannot make words show how
deeply I feel, all I owe you, please be-
lieve that you will have my life-long
gratitude.”

He spoke earnestly, and could not
have said more, while he held forth his
hand, which the young girl grasped,
while she said:

“ I hope you do not intend to remain
a stranger, sir.

“Aunt Phillis has told you my name
and our family history, I believe,” she
said with a laugh.

He took the hint and said:

“Permit me to introduce myself as
Randolph Norman, 3. young lawyer
struggling for fame in a distant town,,
and at present sojourning in Virginia;
for a few weeks, having come to your;
mountains to enjoy a short vacation in
hunting.”

Thus met Kathleen Carrol and Ran-
dolph Norman, and to the young girl the
man owed his life, the strongest claim,
one person can have upon another’s
gratitude.

 

 

CHAPTER VII.
THE DUEL.

The Carrels came of a good family
in Virginia, but the death of Mr. Carrol
had left his wife a comparatively poor
woman. -

She was possessed of nerve, however;
gave up the plantation and moved to a
little farm in the valley that had been
her girlhood’s home.

There, with several old servants, she
had worked hard to support herself and
two children, and give to the latter, a
boy and girl, a good education.

At the time that Kathleen Carrol
rescued Randolph Norman from drown-
ing, Bennett Carrol. then in his twenty—
first year, was just finishing his last
term at college, and his mother was in
Boston by the bedside of a sister who
was dying of consumption, and this left.
her daughter alone on the little farm
with the servants.

But Kathleen taught the country
school, half a mile away, and with her
books at home, her music and sketching,
not to speak of housekeeping and look-

 

ing after the little farm, her time was
too much employed for her to become
I lonesome.

Had she been so before, from the day
51‘!“ had snatched Randolph Norman
{tom the seething brook she could not
complain of loneliness, for be escorted her
home from her little school house each
day, took tea nearly every afternoon at
.‘he cottage, and on Sundays went to
church with Kathleen up to the village
and dined with her.

Mrs. Carrol was still detained in Bos-
lton by the bedside of her sister, and
IBennett Carrol had not yet graduated,
so that Kathleen had no one to tell her

that she was being talked about most
unkindly by the villagers, until one day
she received a note telling her that she
, was no longer desired as a teacher of the

little ccbcnl

 

  
  
  
   
   
 
  
   
  
   
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
  
    
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
  
   
    
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
 

 

  

6

 

 

The Gambler-Guardians Double Deal.

  

 

 

Randolph found her in tears, saw the i

note, and read its cruel dismissal, the

“ You will act for me, Marsden, in a
{little affair I have on hand,” and Ran-

cause being plainly given, and he at‘dolph turned to a friend who was in

once said:

“Kathleen, I have lingered here six
weeks beyond my intended stay, hoping
for your mother’s return, but she is yet
to be delayed for some time, so come
with me to the city and become my
wife.”

Kathleen loved the man with all her
heart and soul, and she went with him,
but only to return home a few months
after, almost broken-hearted.

Not a word would she say against the
man she loved, but her mother and broth-
er knew that she had found. him out to be
a gambler, living by cards alone, and
that he had treated her shamefully,
cruelly, until she was forced to fly from
him for fear of her life.

He had never taken her to his home,
nor introduced her in the city to a
single friend as his Wife, and about him
she positively knew next to nothing.

But she clung to him through all until
one day he told her that the ceremony
which had bound them together was a
mock marriage and she held no legal
claim upon him or his name.

In horror at the wrong he had done
her, and believing him, she had fled from
him and gone back to her home; but
not a word did she utter of the fearful
truth against Randolph Norman.

One day a letter came for Kathleen,
and the envelope had not been sealed.
Bennett Carrol, who was at home reading
law in the ofiice of a village attorney,
had been deeply grieved by his sister’s
sorrows, and anxious to know just what
it was that had divided her from the
man she had secretly married, took ad-
vantage of the envelope not having been
sealed to read the letter.

What he read caused him to utter an
oath between his set teeth and his face
to become livid.

And no wonder, for the letter was
as follows:

“Kathleen, what I told you was the
truth; you have no legal claim upon
me, I having bribed a' man to play
clergyman and unite us, that we might,
should we wish to separate some day,
have no cause in law for not doing so.

“It is best, however, that we should
have a separation in a legal way, I think,
after all, and if you will come up to the
city next week we can go before a judge
and come to an understanding in the
matter, so that, should you or I wish to
marry some day, our mock marriage, if
known, will not be a hindrance in the
way.

“You will find me at the old address.

“ I send twenty dollars within for your

. traveling expenses, as I know that money

is not plentiful in the Rose Vale Cot-
tage. Yours, R. N.”
One hour after reading this cruel,
heartless, letter Bennett Carrol was on
his way to Baltimore, and his sister and
mother knew nothing of the reason of his

' going.

     

He had a college mate in the city, one

_ who had been his dearest friend, and he

at once sought him out.

“ Truett, I have come here to meet a
man who has done me and mine a great
wrong.

“I can tell you no more; but this is
his address, and I beg you to go to him
at once and demand that he meet me
on the field of honor.

“Tell him that I made no charges,
only that a letter he wrote to one dear

_ to me fell into my hands, and if he re-
‘ fuses to give me satisfaction I shall kill

him at sight as I would a mad dog.”

Horace Truett in vain tried to argue
his friend into a more peaceable settle-
ment of the affair, but seeing that Ben-
nett Carrol was in deadly earnest he
at once sought Randolph Norman at his
rooms.

“ Ah! the fair lady has turned upon me

V ' gland sent her brother to champion her?
 “So be it!

‘ I must meet him or he
ay do something desperate.

 

   

 

I his rooms with him when Horace Truett
called.

“ Is it a fight, Norman?” drawled the
young gentleman addressed as Marsden,
and who had a very fast, dissipated look.

“Yes.”

“ It’s deuced bad getting up so early in
the morning, but I suppose I must.”

“Thank you. Your name, please.”

“ Horace Truett.”

“Ah, yes; Mr. Truett, my friend, Mr.
Marsden, who will arrange with you.”

“ A handsome fellow, Bennett, and dev-
ilish cool about it all,” said Horace
Truett, when he entered his friend’s
room at the hotel, half an hour after.

“I never met him; but, is all ar~
ranged?”

“Yes, for the bay shore, at the group
of cedars beyond Fort McHenry, and at
sunrise to—morrow.”

“ And weapons?”

" Pistols, at ten paces.”

The next morning five men stood
among a group of cedars upon the shores
of Chesapeake Bay, and two of the five
faced each other at ten paces, pistols in
hand.

There was heard a low, distinct com—
mand, and the two men raised the duel-
ing pistols which they grasped, and fired,
almost together.

One of the two remained standing,
evidently unharmed, gazing almost un-
concernedly at the scene before him.

That scene was a man prostrate on
the ground, silent, motionless, as if
death-stricken, while over him bent an-
other, his second, looking into the star-
ing eyes that gave back no recognition.

Randolph Norman, standing but a mo-
ment, walked away and was soon joined
by Marsden as he stood upon the shore,
gazing with seeming admiration upon
the waters giving way under the rays of
the rising sun.

An hour after Bennett Carrol lay in his
friend Truett’s rooms, with equal chances

 

 

between life and death, and his mother
and sister had been telegraphed for to
come to him at once.

And Randolph Norman was speeding
away to his native town to keep in re—
tirement until the fate of his victim
was known.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
THE WIDOW'S PLOT.

Now that the reader has received an
insight into the true character of Ran—
d'olph Norman, I will return to that in-
dividual in the elegant house of Glen
Idle, where he was confronted by the
new governess, who claimed to be his
wife.

The young lawyer in his native town
had not been regarded as other than a
trifle wild.

But his trips to the city, when con-
sidered to have been on business, had
been mostly to indulge his passion for
gambling and to lead(a fast life, and thus
had he involved himself in troubles that
would have ended in his ruin but for the
arrival of the letter for his brother.

Knowing that few could tell his broth-
er and himself apart, he had daringly
played the game of impersonating Dudley
Norman.

The five hundred dollar check sent him
by his brother had enabled him to pay
up some little debts and to go on to
New York, when, for the purpose of ap-
pearing better with the miner he had
returned him the one he had sent for
five thousand.

But the very first thing he did when
once in control of the Vernon estate was
to send the money to make up his ap-
propriation to clients and square up
his business in his native town.

The due] he had had with Bennett Car-
rol was unknown, save to the few en-
gaged, for, though desperately wounded,
the young law student rallied, and under
the devoted nursing of his mother and

.
l’: _ - i
.

 

 

sister was able to remove to a new house
in the outskirts of Baltimore, for Mrs.
Carrol was forced to sell her farm and
other property in Virginia, to get means
to care for her son.

A little cottage was bought near tom:

and humbly furnished, and with old
Phillis only to look after the house, the
mother and daughter bravely set to work
to earn a livelihood for all.
. A part of the day Kathleen would be
away, teaching music and drawing; her
mother also helped by giving a few
French lessons and doing any service,
while Phillis milked the cow and de-
voted herself to the housekeeping.

Thus passed the long, weary, dreary
months of suffering, for, though his
wound had healed, it had left Bennett
Carrol partially paralyzed, and, there-
fore, nearly helpless.

And the one who had caused all this
misery, broken up the pleasant home in
Virginia, and brought the family to the
hardest work to support the wounded
man, was dwelling in comparative luxury
at home.

Then had come to him the windfall of
impersonating his brother, and Randolph
Norman, like Lucifer, stepped into a
superb home and the management of a
vast estate with a beautiful young girl
to care for and bring up as a lady and an
heiress.

One day a. person, in passing the cot-
tage of the Carrol’s. dropped a paper.

01d Phillis called after him, as she
ran out and picked it up, but he said that
it did not matter and walked briskly on.

So Phillis carrier it into the house, and
glancing at it Mrs. Carrol saw an adver—
tisement which she eagerly read.

“Wanted, a refined and well educated
lady to take charge of a young girl as
governess, in the home of a gentleman of
wealth, living in New York, on the Hud-
son River. To a person who can teach
French and music a salary of twelve
hundred dollars a year and expenses will
be paid. Address, etc.”

Ten minutes after Phillis was on her
way to the post ofiice with a letter mailed
to the address given in the advertise-
ment, and, a few weeks from that date,
found Mrs. Carrol the. governess of Violet
Vernon at Glen Idle.

The widow had never met Randolph
Norman, but Kathleen had a miniature
likeness of him, and when he had ap-
peared at Glen Idle, she at once identified
the man and knew that he was sailing
under false colors.

When, therefore, Mrs. Carrol had met
Randolph Norman at Glen Idle, she be-
held in him the image of the miniature
her daughter had of him, and, as she
knew that there could not be two men
of the same name so alike by accident,
she was convinced that the person whom
Walter Vernon trusted so thoroughly was
up to some deep, daring scheme; and
from that day she became a SPY. upon
him.

At last, thoroughly convinced that the-
pretended Doctor Dudley Norman was
none other than the man who had so
wronged her, she determined to act, and
for the good of both Mr. Vernon and
Violet, so she wrote to Kathleen, told
her what her suspicions were, and, after
awhile, decided to heme her come to Glen
Idle. ,

Poor Bennett needed her constant care.
she well knew, for his wound had re-
opened, and the mother realized that to
see him suffer was a constant sorrow to '
Kathleen.

So she told the pretended Doctor Nor-
man that she would have to give up her
place as governess, but would advertise
for a proper person to take her place,
and if no one offered who was satisfac-
tory, she knew a young lady who would
be glad to come, and Violet would like
her. she was certain.

The plotting widow well understood
that Norman would leave all to her to
arrange, as he did, and, once her daugh-
ter came on as arranged, and the
master of Glen Idle preved' to .‘be the;

 

  
 

 

  

  

 

recreant husband, she would leave it to
Kathleen to make the best of it.

She was well aw1re that every particle
of love in the breast of K._thlecn for
Randolph Norman, whose life sae had
saved, and who had so wronged her and
had given her brothcr the wound that
was killing him, had turned to bitterest
hatred, and if she did not revenge her-
self in some ‘way upon him it would be
her own fault.

The man was gambling away money
rapidly, and otherwise squandering the
estate of the man who had trusted him.

And ,0, all had been cleverly plotted.
0n the t W lse day of the Widow Car-
rol’s departure from Glen Idle, the new
governess arrived, and, to his horror,
Randolph Norman discovered in the veil-
ed woman who swept into his library
none other than the one he had so cruelly
wronged.

CHAPTER VIII.
UNMASKING OF RANDOLPH NORMAN.
Pallid, quivering and frightened, it

was a moment before Randolph Norman
could command himself.

He could control himself only after a
mighty effort, and in that second of
time he decided how to act.

“ My dear madam,” he said, in a voice
that was low and musical, though it was
not at first free from a tremor, “ be
seated, pray, and let me know how I can
serve you, but I fear from the name you
called me by you mistake me for an-
other."

“ No, I am not mistaken, Randolph
Norman, for I certainly have cause to re-
member you,” was the reply, and Kath-
leen was visibly affected.

“ Ah! you call me Randolph Norman.
I knew there was some mistake.”

" And you are Randolph Norman.”

“ No, I am the brother, the twin broth-
er, of Randolph Norman, and the likeness
between us is startling, but I am Dudley
Norman.”

Kathleen was staggered.

Could she be mistaken, after all?

“The likeness is indeed startling, sir;
but, may I ask where your brother is,”
she said, as though convinced.

“ Alas! I do not know. Unfortunately
for himself, and for me also, he is a wild,
reckless fellow, given to all kinds of dis-
sipations and social vices, and he has
caused me a world of sorrow and
trouble.

“But, do you really mean that you
are his wife?”

“As I said, sir, I am his wife.”

“ Ah! I pity you, for I heard some-
thing of his having allied himself to a
poor girl down in Virginia, and I fear he
may have served you as he- did her.”

“ I am that unfortunate girl, sir.”

“ You? Then how cruelly be deceived
you, for it was told to me that the mar-
riage was illegal, a mock ceremony in
fact; and afterwards he deserted her."

“ Yes, and it was my brother whom he
shot in a. duel, for poor Bennett, my
brother I refer to, sought to avenge the
wrong done me.”

“ And met him in a duel, you say?”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ God forgive me for saying so, but, it
had been better if poor, misguided Ran—
dolph had fallen, rather than your brave
brother.”

“ He would have, sir, but for his
treachery and cowardice, for my brother
was a dead shot.”

“ A'h! how was that?”

“ He wore a shirt of wire mail under
his vest, and that caught the bullet just
over his heart and held it.”

“Indeed! and how did you learn of
this cowardly act of his?”

“ The bullet fell upon the ground where
the duel was fought, and I visited the
scene and picked it up, and I have it
now.” '

" Yet he may not have worn the wire
armor you speak of——"

‘

The Gamb

lerjque.rdia11’s Double Deal.

 

that he had a wire armor that fitted like
a shirt, made by a skilled artisan in Bal-
timore, and he went to his shop the night
before the duel and put it on there, 5
the man told me.

“Yes, your brother, sir, is a coward, ;husband, after my full

as well as a villain.”

“ Alas! it so seems; and I do not won-
der that you feel revengeful towards
him, when he deceived you by a mock
marriage.”

“Oh, no; I was really his wife, and
am so yet!" _

“ Indeed? but I thought the marriage
was a mockery, and was so regarded by
all concerned?”

“ So he thought, but he was mistaken.”

Randolph Norman changed color, but
said:

“I congratulate you, then, madam, if
it is so, and I shall be glad to extend to
you all the aid in my power to atone
for my brother‘s sins towards you.

“But, have you the proof of your mar-
riage to him?”

“ I haVe, sir.”

“ May I ask what proof, for if you are
really his wife, I desire to take certain
steps for your welfare in the future.”

“ My proof is that the tool he bribed to
help him out in his villainy, was not so
vile as he, for, instead of doing as he was
told, and hiring a man to act the part
of a clergyman, he went and procured
an ordained priest of the Episcopal
Church, and my marriage is recorded by
him, real names and all, which the bribed
man gave to the minister, instead of the
fictitious ones Randolph Norman bade
him give.”

Randolph Norman fairly trembled at
this, but said, as he turned his face away
from the light:

“ If you will give me the proofs of this,
madam, I will see that you are cared for
with a regular income, which I will
gladly allow you.”

“You are most kind, sir; but how
striking is the likeness you.bear to your
brother, my husband!” and Kathleen
gazed fixedly at him. ;

“As I said, madam, th resemblance
always was startling; but you will give
me your address now, so that I'can ar-
range your income, and the address also
of the clergyman who married you, as
well as that of this tool of my brother’s
who so cleverly deceived him? ”

“ Thank you; but I prefer .to make my
own living, Doctor Norman, and, as the
governess of your ward, I can do so and
feel independent.”

Randolph Norman winced at this.

“ My dear madam, I regret exceedingly
that I shall be unable to accept your serv-
ices as the governess of my ward; but
you must see that it is best you do not
remain, under the circumstances.

“ As my brother’s wife I will allow you
the same income as I would had you re-
mained as governess, and—"

The man stopped suddenly, for Kath-
leen broke forth into a burst of ringing,
mocking laughter, while she said with
biting sarcasm: ‘

“ Randolph, my dear husband, are you
a. fool as well as a. villain?”

 

CHAPTER IX.
FURNISHING THE PROOF.

“ Woman! in the name of Heaven, what
do you mean?" ’cried Randolph Norman,
again turning pallid at the words and
mocking laughter of her whom he had,
as he supposed, so cleverly deceived.

She had played the detective well, and
all she had passed through in tracking
out the villainy of her wicked husband
had quite changed her nature.

Now, brought to bay, he had sought

 

“ He did, sir, for I played detective on '

his track, disguisedas a boy, and learned

\ ' .

 

 
 

to deceive her, and pretend to be the
noble brother of the wicked Randolph.
She had led him on most cleverly, and
then, when she had seen him wince and
grow pale at the proof that she was
really his wife. and seek to get rid of
her. that he might plot to keep her out
of the way, she had broken forth into a.
laughter that no matterlhow she enjoyed

\
- l

 

  

 

it, and his discomfiture, certainly had a
very mocking ring in its tone of mirth.
“ What do I mean, husband mine, you
ask?” she said in a lazy, provoking way.
“ Are you mad, that you call me your
explanation to
you, madam?”

Again she laughed tauntingly, and he.
grew uneasy.

The woman was at her ease, and the.
man was growing terribly nervous.

“ Randolph
Norman, may I ask if you are aware of
any striking resemblances between you
and your twin brother, other than in gen-
eral appearance?”

“We are as like as two human beings
can well be, and not. be the same."

“You mean excepting in character?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, has your twin brother a mole
on his neck just under his left ear—it’s
a sign that a man is to be hanged, I have
heard old people say.”

“Ah, yes. I believe
such a mark.”

“And how strange, too, that even a.
scar on his forehead you should have!"
His face flushed deeply, but he said:

“ \Ve both got hurts in childhood that
left pretty, much the same scar.”

“ And that very remarkable ring you
wear, remarkable because I never saw
but one like it, and that your brother told
me was given to him by his father, who
bought it in India long years ago.” .

“ Yes, it is a. remarkable ring, and
knowing how I always prized it, my
brother sent it to me last Christmas as.
a present."

“ Indeed! I thought you had not heard
from your brother since his duel, over
a year ago?" ,

“Ah, did I say last Christmas?” How
fergetful I am, for it was Christmas a.
year ago; but, I beg my dear madam, that
you will accept my offer of aid, an in~
come to you, and—”

“ Pardon me, sir, but I observe that you
have the same design in the palm of
your hand, pricked in with India ink,
that your brother has.

“Yes, my father did that, for he was a.
naval officer in early life, and he wished
to be able to distinguish my brother and
myself apart,” and the man was rapidly
losing his nerve.

“And so he pricked in an anchor in
the palm of your hand?"

“ Yes-i,

“And in your brother's also?”

“ Oh yes," but—”

“ And he made the mistake of putting
your brother’s initials, R. N., in your
hand, Doctor Dudley Norman?”

Randolph Norman utered an oath be-
neath his breath.

He realized now that the woman was
not deceived.

He must try another plan,
would act promptly,

So he arose, and stepping to the door,
locked it.

When he returned he started, as he
saw that Kathleen, without changing her
lazy position in the chair, had a revolver
in her hand and the muzzle was pointed
toward him.

“ Curses! do you intend to kill me,
woman?” he demanded, savagely.

She laughed and replied: “ Not unless
you force me to fight this new Lucifer
with fire, Randolph; but I wish to tell
you that I have practised a great deal
with a revolver and am a dead shot, so
if I had to fire I would aim at your head,
and thus be sure to avoid flattening
my bullet against your shirt of mail,
should you still wear it.”

“A truce to this nonsense, and let us
talk business.”

“ Well?”

"You know me; I admit that."

"Of course, and better than you think,
for I went to your native town and got
all your family history.” '

"' And sent your mother here as a spy

 

we both have

and he

' on me, for now,I know who it is she  ‘3 '5

sembled so.” _ ‘
“No, my mother mmein,

   

 

ah! I beg pardon—Doctor ’

An anchor it is.” _

,'~"d.4

    
       
    

 

  
   
   
   
  
 
   
   
  
    
  
   
   
 
 
   
   
   
   
    
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
     
  
     
 
  
   
    
  
    
  
    
   
  
   
   
 
   
    
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
     

        
       
 
  

 
 

 

willieGamblebG-uardian’s Double Deal.

 

   
   
   
      
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
    
  
   
   
   
    
  
 
    
       
     
    
    
   
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
    
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
      
  

an advertisement to serve Mr. Vernon;
but, having seen your likeness, she recog-
nized you, and at once became sus—
picious, as well as alarmed for Mr. Ver-
non’s sake.

“ She wrote me, and I set to work; and
when I had tracked you, I decided to
come as governess in her stead, to your
fair young ward, who, I am told, is a
most lovely girl.”

“ It is of you that I wish to speak.

“ Why are you here?”

“ To act as governess to Violet Vernon,
as I said, for you know I am an excellent

iteacher—yes, and a competent house-
keeper, too, for you have often tried my,
cooking and seen what a cosy home I
kept.

“Then, too, I speak German and
French, and you have said that I sing
divinely and play with great expression,
while you have done me the honor to
state that I was no mean artist with
brush and pencil.

“ I ride and drive well, that you know;
and all this being true, I should say that
I am the very person to teach your
ward.”

“ Never! You shall not
position to her.”

“And I say that I will be the gover-
ness of Violet Vernon.”

“ If I refuse you?”

“ What do I care for that, as you will
have to change your mind, or give up
your guardianship."

" In satan’s name, what do you mean? ”

“ I know that Mr. Vernon's malady. is
not so bad as he believes, and at times,
for months, he is perfectly rational, so
I will go and tell him the truth.”

“ You dare not!”

“I have the proofs that I saved your
life, and that you sought to bind me
solely by a mock marriage, while it was
a real one, and my poor brother, dying
by inches, is a witness to your crime
against him.”

“He will still believe what I tell him."
I “How about your brother Dudley?”

“ What of him?”

“ Suppose I bring him before Mr. Ver-
non? What then?”

“ He is dead ?”

“Is be, when he wrote you a letter
which this very day you received!”

A cold sweat broke out on the forehead
of Randolph Norman.

Mrs. Carrol had told her daughter of
this letter from Dudley Norman, in the
short conversation they had had at the
station; but Randolph did not know Just
what his wife knew.

At last he said:

“ Well, I see that it is going to cost
me something to get rid of you, so I
might as well make up my mind to pay
it at once and be done with you forever."

“ So name your price, woman."

hold such a

 

CHAPTER X.
AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL.

Again came that ringing, mocking
burst of laughter from the lips of Kath-
leen Norman, and it fairly made Ran—
dolph Norman’s blood 'run cold with
dread.

“ In satan’s name hush that infernal
laughter. What will the servants think

, ,if they hear you?” said Randolph Nor-
man nervously.

“That you have engaged a very merry
governess for your ward, that is all. But,
you ask my price.”

H I do.'!

“ Suppose I said fifty
lars."

“ Will you grant me a divorce for that
sum?”

“In cash?”

“ Yes. - the moment
granted.”

“ I did not know you were a rich man.”

“"1 can raise the money."

“ Yes, by stealing it from Mr. Vernon
and his daughter, as you have stolen
 many a thousand before to gamble away
in New York.

thousand dol-

the divorce is

   
  

“You see I have tracked you well,
Randolph Norman.”

“Woman, woman! You nearly drive
me to do that which I may repent."

“I will be the first time, then, that
repentance ever entered your wicked
heart, husband mine.”

“ Will you accept my terms? ”

“ No! for I will not be a party to the
robbery. of Mr. Vernon and his daughter."

“I will raise the money from invest-
ments of my own that I have made.”

“You have not a dollar, and I know
it.”

“In Heaven’s name,
want then?”

“ No sum could tempt me to give you
your freedom, my dear husband; but I
can be brought to silence.”

“ Well, name your price.”

“ To be governess to your ward.”

“ That you may tell her all.”

“ Oh, no; I am not treacherous. I love

you so dearly I merely wish to be near
you, and no one shall know that we ever
met before.
"‘I will be as distant to you as was
my mother, and you shall not have the
slightest fault to find with me, I promise
you.”

The man paced to and fro with anxious
face.

How he could get rid of her was beyond
his power to discover.

He must play a different game with
her if he wished to triumph; Lucifer
must not be balked by a woman. So he
turned to her and said in a tone of re—
morse:

“Kathleen, I did act a mean part by
you; but the devil seemed to hold sway
over me, and I could not resist to save
my soul from perdition.

"I did you a wrong, and I assure you
I am most happy to feel that the mar-
riage was not a bogus one, for you are,
I freely confess, my lawful wife.

“ Having sinned against you, I yet did
a greater wrong in meeting your brother
in a duel, but he threatened to kill me
at sight if deid not, and life, you know,
is sweet. 3.

“ I see now the enormity of my crimes,
for, driven to desperation by debts, and
seeing a prison staring me in the face,
I impersonated my brother and now hold
the position that you see me in.

“I now wish to make all the repara-
tion in my power, and you shall be
Violet’s governess.

“You can come as though you were a
stranger to me, and be known as Miss
Randolph.

" I will treat you with marked respect,
and will use the means at my command
to make money for myself. and for you,
that we may lay up a snug sum for our—
selves.

“ Then I will send Violet to boarding-
school, confess to my' brother the wrong
I have done, and, dismissing the servants,
have him come here and take charge, no
one being the wiser, 'for he can hire
other servants, and if Violet is away
from him a year she will never recognize
the difference between us. '

“ What do you say, Kathleen, my
wife?” - I

As he stepped towards her there was ,
a sound of carriage wheels upon the‘
gravel drive. Randolph Norman sprung l
to the library door and opened it, for he
heard the footsteps of the butler ap-
preaching.

Then the front door was thrown open.

and the next moment a visitor entered:
“ Mr. Vernon!”
The name came from the lips of Ran-
dolp Norman with a gasp. as he beheld
the Californian appear, like a ghost be-
fore him.

what do you

CHAPTER XI.
IS THE NEIV GOVERN‘SSS A 5???
When the man of all men he had
wished less to see. unless it was his
brother. entered the library at Glen Idle. '
Randolph Norman turned to the hue of v

 

 

a corpse, after he had gasped, “ Mr. Ver-
non! ” ‘

   

A few moments more and he would
have known the effect of his words
upon Kathleen; whether his affected re—
morse, his promises of reformation, and
1clonfessions of wrong had influenced

er.

But ere she could make reply, the car-
riage wheels were heard upon the drive,
the front door swung open, and Walter
Vernon, supposed to be in the insane
asylum, strode in the room.

“ My dear Mr. Vernon! What a joyous
surprise, and so wholly unexpected! "
and he grasped his hand.

“ Yes, I thought I would surprise you.
Norman; for I longed so to see my
child.” ’

“ I will have Violet called at once, for
she has a little friend visiting her for a
couple of days,” and Randolph touched a
bell near at hand, while Mr. Vernon said:

“ But I see you have a visitor, and—” t

“ Ah, yes,” and Norman turned to 5
Kathleen, who had walked over toward "
the window, and continued: ,

“Miss Randolph, this gentleman is Mr. .1
Vernon, the father of my ward, and '
whose health causes him to remain
away from home.”

Would Kathleen boldly speak out and
betray him, or would she accept the sit-
uation as it was, as he had offered it to
her?

But, she walked up to Mr. Vernon and
said: “ I am glad to meet you, sir, and
I only hope I may do my whole duty by
your motherless child.”

“ I feel that you will, for one with your
face can only be the truest of women;
but, may I ask why Mrs. Carrol left, Nor-
man.” ’

“Her son’s health is failing rapidly,
sir, and she was forced to be with him,
but she recommended Miss Randolph,

Sir.”

This was said without any show‘ of
feeling which would indicate that Ben- ‘
nett Carrol was dying from a wound
given by the hand of the man who ut—
tered the words. _ \

The impostor was himself again! ‘

He saw Kathleen’s face flush and then
pale at his reference to her brother, and
noted her flashing eyes; but he felt that
he was master of the situation.

Just then Violet came bounding into
the room and sprang into her father’s
arms. a

iAdfter the greeting was over, Randolph
sa :

“Violet, here is some one else for you
to welcome, your new governess, Miss
Randolph, whom I know you will love
most dearly.”

” Yes, I am sure you will my child,”
said Mr. Vernon.

Violet went up to Kathleen and said
in her sweet way:

 

 

i one,

‘a library of just such books as a child

“ Oh, how beautiful you are! Yes, in-
deed. will I love you; but I loved dear
Mrs. Carrol, too."

Kathleen bent over and kissed her, and
the child saw the beautiful eyes fill with
tears, and said quickly:

“Come with me and I’ll take you to
your room, for it is all ready.”

“Excuse us, papa and gardy,” and the
little heiress of Glen Idle and her new
governess went away.

Her room was certainly a charming
large, luxuriously furnished, and
commanding a superb view of the Hud-
son and the Jersey hills beyond. '

A door opened into a large sitting
room, which was also Violet’s study and
music room, and adjoining it was the
chamber of the pretty little heiress.

The walls were hung with fine Daint'
ings, bric-a-brac was scattered about in
profusion, a grand piano was on one
side. and a guitar lay upon its velvet
cover, while there was a case filled with

   
      
       
     
     
      
       
   
    
     
    
    
   
    
   
     
       
  

would be interested in.

Ordering her maid to look to the com-
fort of Miss Randolph. and that she
would come for her when supper was
ready, Violet left Kathleen in her new
quarters.

Telling Jessie, the maid, that she would

   
     
     
        
     
    

  

 

 

 

not need her services, Kathleen threw
herself down upon the bed and burst into
tears, while she murmured over and
over again:
“ My God!

CHAPTER XII.
THE COMPACT.

Several days passed at Glen Idle, and
though outwardly calm, Randolph Nor-
man was suffering torment.

He had had no opportunity to see
Kathleen again alone. and have a full
understanding with her, and he greatly
dreaded the presence of Mr. Vernon.

Kathleen assumed the full manage—
ment with the air of one who knew just
what she was about, and felt perfectly
at home.

After a stay of three days, Mr. Vernon
decided that he must go back to his asy-
lum.

He had run over business matters with
Randolph, and told him he was an eco-
nomical and splendid manager, while he

~had well acted the part of a father to

‘ Violet.

\ Had he, however, looked into the bank
. accounts thoroughly, he would have dis-
lcovered that many thousands were miss-
ing, which had gone over the gambling
.table, but which were accounted for as
“ on deposit.”

' He took his departure, and, as Violet
drove with him to the station, the arch-
_ plotter took the opportunity to have an

. interview with Kathleen.

- He at once sent for her, and asked her
to go with him for a walk. He would
~ be sure that no eavesdroppers heard or
beheld what might pass between them.

“ It must be,” Kathleen had said to
herself, as she obeyed the summons, and
the two walked down toward the river
arbor together.

“ Kathleen, Mr. Vernon’s coming the
other day prevented our settling affairs
between us,” began Randolph.

“ Well, what settlement do you wish,
other than that I am to remain here as
governess to Violet? ” she asked coldly.

. “ Of course, you are my wife; that I
do not deny; and yet we cannot now
~make it public, so I desire that you re-
-main here as Miss Randolph, and in time
I will ask you to become my wife before
the world.
T “ It will appear as though we met here
,for the first time, loved each other, and
,thus married.”
- “You are in earnest? "
f “Of course, I am; but I ask if your
»mother knows aught about me? ”
' “ In what respect? "

“Does she know me as Randolph Nor-
man? "

“ She suspects you of being the one
who so cruelly deceived me."

“Could you not convince her that I
am really Dudley Norman, and that Ran-
dolph, my twin brother, is the scapegrace
who has fled to the west?”

“ Yes, I could have her so believe.”

“ And will? ”

“That depends upon you.”

“ In what respect? "

; “Do you mean what you say about
making me your wife publicly one of
these days? ”

“ I do most solemnly vow it.”

“Will you give me a written state—
\ment that I may place in a safe place
stating that you are Randolph Norman,
and that you are the one who sinned
against me, and are now playing the part
of your brother Dudley? ”

“ This is hardly fair Kathleen.”

“ If you mean to be honest with me, I
‘shall return it to you the day you pub-

“ licly make me your wife here in Glen
Idle.”

“ I will do as you wish; but you must
convince your mother that I am all right,
and not Randolph Norman."

“ Leave that to me."

“ Then this is a compact between us? "

“When you give me the written con-

, fession and statement I ask; yes."
I “ Then let us return to the house and
-. I will write it.”

How will all this end? ”

 

   
  
  
  

 

   
 
  

 

  

Back to the mansion they wended their
way, and the man wrote as the woman
dictated.

“ I, Randolph Norman, hereby confess
to having deceived Kathleen Carrol into
what I believed was a mock marriage,
but which I now know to have been a

Th? "G ember-911mm??? PQuble Deal-

legal one, from proofs in the possession '

of said Kathleen Norman, once Kathleen
Carrol; and I also confess that I am not
Dudley Norman, M. D., as is believed, as
I have impersonated my twin brother,
who properly bears that name, for my
own advancement alone, and that he is
now‘living in California.

“ I further acknowledge it to be my in-
tention within one year from date to pub—
licly acknowledge the said Kathleen Car-

. roll to be my lawful wife, entering into

a marriage with her here at Glen Idle,
that the former marriage may not be
suspected as having occurred, and until
such ceremony of public acknowledgment
the said Kathleen Carrol, under the
name of Miss Kathleen Randolph, shall
remain at Glen Idle as governess to
Violet, the daughter of Walter Vernon,
now an inmate of the asylum at -———,
State of New York.”

Such was the damaging proof of his
guilt that Randolph Norman wrote,
signed, and placed in the hands of Kath-
leen.

The next morning Randolph Norman
left Glen Idle to meet-his brother at
Buffalo, and there confront the new dan-
ger which threatened to undo his wrong—
doing and brand him the impostor and
villain that he was !

 

CHAPTER XIII.
A BROTHER'S cams.

Doctor Carter sat in his elegant home
after dinner, enjoying a cigar, when. a
visitor was announced.

The visitor was a stranger in the city,
and his visit was on a matter of impor-
tance.

“ Show him in,” said Doctor Carter.

“ Pardon me, Doctor Carter, for im-
posing upon you by calling at your home,
but it is important.”

Dioctor Carter glanced at the card and
sai :

“Doctor Norman, I am glad to meet
you, sir, so no apologies for your com-
ing, but tell me how can I serve you.”

“I am here, sir, to ask you to visit
my brother, a twin brother, who, from
illness and an injury received in the
west, has lost his mind, or, rather, has
strange fancies.

“One of his hallucinations is that he
is myself, for he calls himself by my
name, Dudley Norman, instead of his
own name of Randolph, and has come
East for treatment.

“ My own wish is to have him taken to
an asylum and treated; and let me say,
sir, that, though he is a poor man, I pos-
sess a large fortune, and am more than
willing to pay any sum for his care and
comfort.”

“This is noble of you, Doctor Nor-
man, and I assure you I agree with you
that it is best to place him in an asylum
for treatment.

“_I can recommend one /in R—,
though it is an expensive one.”

“ Expense is nothing, so that my poor
brother has every comfort—in fact, lux-
ury.”

“ He will have that there, sir. Where
is he now? ”

“ At the hotel; he arrived to-day.

“ If you can recommend an attend-
ant, sir, and in fact, would call and see
my brother, I would feel obliged.”

“ Certainly, sir; I will call this even-
ing. In the meantime, I will send you a
man whom you can rely on.”

The visitor took his leave and drove
rapidly back to the hotel.

In a pleasant room sat a man. who ap-
parently was an invalid, for his face was
pallid, his look wan, as though from suf-
fering.

The door opened and Randolph Nor-
man entered.

 

  

  

9

 

 

In spite of the fact that the one was an
invalid, the other. in perfect health, there
was a striking resemblance between the
two.

“ Well, brother, I have engaged you an-
other nurse, and consulted Doctor Carter
about your case. He thinks, with me,
that it is best for you to go to a cure
establishment or sanitarium for a short
while, where you can have every atten-
tion. ,

“You are to have an attendant, and
every luxury, and in a short while you
will come to me in my new home well
and happy.”

Just then came a knock on the door,
and in answer to Randolph Norman's
command to come in, there entered a
sleek-looking individual, who bowed low
as he said:

“Doctor Norman’s room, sir? ”

‘1 Yes-’)

“ I’m Breton, sir—Frederick Breton,
the nurse, as has been sent by Doctor
Carter, sir.”

“ Ah, yes, Breton; I am glad to see
you. This is my brother, whom you must
care for as though he were your own
kinsman, if you wish me to remember
you liberally in addition to your regular
pay-If '

“ Yes, sir. Hi will, sir.”

“ Doctor Carter, sir, hexplained hall to
me, sir.”

Frederick Breton at once set to work
in a way that showed how thoroughly he
understood his business.

Then Doctor Carter called and was
introduced, and the invalid remarked:

“ You forgot to call me doctor, Broth-
er Randolph.”

“ So I did; but you know I have never
known you by your title, we have been
so long separated.

" Doctor Carter, I wish you now, sir,
to say just what you think is best for
my brother."

Doctor Carter took a seat by the in-
valid, felt his pulse, took his tempera-
ture, looked down his throat, sounded
his chest, and listened to the beating of
his heart and his breathing.

“My advice, sir, is that you go to a
place where you can get perfect rest,
pure air, the best of food, and every
attention, and a few months will bring
you out all right.”

Doctor Carter took his leave, Ran-
dolph Norman following him out of the
room and slipping into his hands a check.

“ Oh, no, sir; you are a member of
the profession, and—”

“ My dear doctor, this is not a case of
professional courtesy, for I shall never
ask for your services unless I can pay
for them; therefore accept my check
and take my brother’s case in hand.
What is your opinion, may I ask? ”

“His is a serious case, sir, I fear, for
these is every indication of insanity;
but, rest and good treatment may bring
him around in time, though it cannot be
hastened.” ’

“ So I think, sir.” ‘

“Here is a letter to Doctor Antisane
of the Electro~Hydropathic—Cureall Re-
treat, of which I am visiting physician
four times yearly. Your brother, with his
special nurse, can have his parlor and
bedroom, with all attention, for one hun-
dred dollars a week.”

Doctor Carter walked away, after a
warm shake of the hand of his patron,
and glancing at the check he gave a.
chuckle of delight as he saw that it was
for five hundred dollars!

And, well pleased with his evening’s
work, the learned “ specialist " returned
home.

The next day Doctor Dudley Norman
found himself an inmate of Doctor An-
tisane’s Cureail Retreat. 

 

CHAPTER XIV.
THE SEA GYPSIES.
The days at Glen Idle passed.

in the even tenor of their, way, 
seemed to be serene.  ’ e .

  

    
       
        
   
   
 
    

  

‘10 The G

 

 

enabler-Guardian’s Double, Deal.

 

 

Mr. Vernon was heard from once a
month. At times he spoke encouraging y
of his health and hope of getting well.

Each month a check went to him for
his support, from Randolph Norman,
and another check, even larger, was sent
to Doctor Antisane of the Cureall Re-
treat, to pay for the care of poor Dud-
ley Norman.

Doctor Carter had paid his quarter-

ycarly visit to that institution, and
wrote to “Doctor Dudley Norman of
(lien Idle” that his brother’s bodily

heath was perfect, but that, mentally,
he. was no better, was constantly fretted
.n" his confinement, and still had the
hailucination that he was Dudley Nor-
iiiiln.

"His knowledge of medicine I could
not understand, it was so perfect, until
your letter stating that he had studied
to be a physician explained it all,” the
doctor’s letter had concluded.

Of course Doctor Antisane had a mo—
tive in wishing to keep a hundred dollar
a week patient; but Doctor Carter, hav-
ing had no suspicion of designed decep-
tion, was really deceived.

From the day of her coming to Glen
Idle Kathleen had been a favorite with
all, the servants particularly liking her.

Violet had learned to love her most
dearly, and was improving rapidly in
her .studies. and also in her painting and
music.

When at home “Doctor”
kept a great deal to himself.

Then. he spent a considerable part of
his time in the city, where he said he
had been forced to open an office to look
after the affairs of the estate the better.

Certain it was that his letters no long-
'er came to Glen Idle.

Thrown upon their own resources, in a
measure, Kathleen and Violet rode horse-
back and drove together, took long walks
in the woods, or rowed upon the river.

Thus had passed nearly a year, and

not. once had Randolph Norman spoken
to Kathleen a word more in regard to
their compact.
‘ He was ever markedly polite, had
seemed to seek her society at times, and
they had driven together, rowed upon
the river, and frequently sat for hours
in the library in each other's company,
until the servants felt sure among them-
selves that it would end in a match be-
tween the master and the governess.

One day Violet and her governess
came in just in time to appear at dinner.

“Gardy, we made a discovery,” de-
clared Violet.

“ What was it? ” asked Randolph.

“ Did you ever hear of Sea Gypsies,
Gardy? "

“ Yes; but why do you ask? "

“ There are some here; and they are
anchored in the little basin above our
grounds. Miss Randolph went with me
to see them.”

“ Well, tell me of them.”

" They have a pretty schooner, and the
hull is painted blue, while there is a
figure—head of a witch, and the craft is
named the Ocean Gypsy. And besides,
there are fully a dozen monkeys and a
couple of tame bears.”

“ And are there no people?” asked
Norman, with a smile.

" Yes, indeed, Gardy! and a queer set
they are, too." '

“ Of course there is a Gypsy Queen? "

“I was just going to tell you about
her. She is old, with white hair, jet-
black eyes, and, though old, yet is as
quick in her movements as I am.

“ _Her name is Quito, the Gypsy Queen,
and she is a fortune teller, and Miss Ran-

‘doiph and I are going to have our fort-
unes told by her to-morrow."

“ And they are anchored near here, you
say, Vi?”

" Yes, sir, in the inlet; and they have

ytheir camp ashore in the woods.”

Norman

 

“I told Violet we would go to-mor—
row, if you did not object."

“ It is all nonsense, this pretending to
read one’s destiny,” he protested.

“Of course it is,” responded the gov-
erness, and the subject of the sea gypsies
was dropped.

 

CHAPTER XV.
THE PAST AND THE FUTURE.

A man in a somewhat picturesque
garb stood on the roadside gazing at a
gentleman passing slowly along a path
in the fine park of majestic trees near
Glen Idle mansion.

His face was youthful, dark as an
Indian’s, and his eyes were black and
full of fire.

“ Yes, that is the gentleman. I cannot
be mistaken. He has changed since
then; but he is the same, I know that.

“ And yet. the lady is not his wife here,
but she was there.

“It is strange, very strange, but I
must find out more, so that Queen Quito
may know how to tell strange fortunes."

His eyes were upon the master of Glen
Idle as he spoke, for Randolph Norman
was coming along the path directly
toward him.

As he saw the man he halted, and
glancing at him, though he hardly re-
turned his polite salute, said:

“ Are you one of the Sea Gypsies, en-
camped upon the shore above here, my
man? ”

“Yes, I am a Sea Gypsy, your Honor,
and my people are half a mile from
here.”

“But, surely I have seen you before,”
and Norman gazed fixedly into his face.

“ It may be so, sir."

“ You are strangely like one I once
knew.”

“ All gypsies are alike, sir.”

“But, the one I mean was not a
gypsy. You are strangely like him. What
is your name? ”

“Soto, senor. I belong to the Span-

' ish gypsies.”

“And your queen is in camp? "

“No, sir; Queen Quito is away.”

“ I learn that she is a fortune teller."

“ She reads human lives, senor.”

“ Well, I will come again to see her.
Don’t forget to tell her that I am coming
to have my fortune told,” and he slipped
a bankbill into the hand of the gypsy.

Raising his hat. the gypsy went away
toward his camp.

It was upon the banks of the Hudson,
and beautifully situated in a grove of
trees,

The camp consisted of one large and
four small tents, and a score of people,
men, women, and children, in pictur—
esque attire were there.

In a small indenture of the river bank,
which formed a tiny basin, a schooner
of three hundred tons was at anchor.
The young man who had met Ran-
dolph Norman went at once on board the
schooner, sculling out in a light skiff.
He entered the cabin, which was large
and decorated in a most fantastic man-
ner, with souvenirs from a dozen foreign
lands.
A woman was lying upon a divan.
Her appearance was striking, for her
hair was snow-white, her eyes jet black,
and her complexion dark, but of a rich
ue.
“ Well, Soto, who comes?” she asked
in a low voice, as the gypsy entered.
“No one, for I said you were away,
as I met one who will come to-morrow
to hear what you can tell him of him-
self, and I wished first to see you, for I
know him!”
“ Indeed? Who is he? "
“ The master of the elegant home
, on the hill above; but I knew him when
i he was poor."
“ Ah! you are sure?”

 

“ Yes, queen, for I never forget a face,” -

’and for half an hour the young gypsy

and the queen talked together.

Then the young man left the schooner
and walked away from the camp.

It was late in the afternoon when he
returned, and the Gipsy Queen asked
quickly:

“Well? ”

“I know much to tell you,” was the
reply.

Half an hour after word came off to
the vessel that a lady, one of the two
who had been there the day before,
wished to see her.

She was admitted to the schooner’s
cabin, and rising the Gypsy Queen asked:

“How can I serve you, lady‘? ”

The visitor was Kathleen Carrol, who.
not caring to have Violet hear aughr
that the Gypsy Queen might tell her, had
come alone.

“I am a doubter of your power, Gypsy
Queen, so have come to test it, by asking
you to tell me something of the past,
something of the future.”

“Why recall the past, lady, which has
had more of bitterness for you than of
joy? ”

“Ah! You know this? ”

“I could read that much in your face.
You have been rich, and you are poor.
You have loved, but loved one unworthy
.of you, while now you struggle hard to
cast him out of your heart. Your hand,
lady—yes, I see that you gave your hand
in faith, and to one who was faithless.

“ Your future, lady, is with you. There
are two paths, one to contentment, and
that you must go alone; the other leads
to sorrow, if you take another into your
life with you.

“ I can say no more, lady.”

“ You need not, for what you have
said gives me faith in a power I had
been skeptical of before.

“Here, queen, let me offer you this
and bid you farewell.”

Kathleen handed her a gold piece, and
turned away, and Soto put her on shore.

She went along the bank near the riv-
er, and thus missed Randolph Norman,
who was coming down the path from
the highway.

Soto recognized him, and, approach-
ing. saluted politely, while he said:

“ The queen is at home to-day, senor.
Would you see her? ”

“Yes,” and Norman, stepping into the
boat at Soto’s request, was rowed out to
the schooner.

 

CHAPTER xvi.
FOR GOLD.

For some reason known to himself,
Randolph Norman would have preferred
not going on board the schooner, but
he was ,told by Soto that only there
could the Queen of the Sea Gypsies read
the destinies of those who came to her.
An unbeliever in such superstitious
nonsense as “ fortune telling,” yet Nor-
man felt an irresistible desire to test the
powers of the seeress.
Impelled perhaps by the same impulse
that had prompted Kathleen to visit her
, he had gone. .
i The old queen seemed to give him the
honors, and he felt sorry that he had
i come.
i

 

But there was no backing out after
‘ going thus far, so he took the seat placed
I for him.

i “I have come, Gyp‘sy Queen, to know
I what you can tell me about my future,”

' said the master of Glen Idle.

' “Do you come with faith?” was the

; decisive demand.

i “I confess-,to but little faith, for I am
lan unbeliever in about everything, but
2 what have you to tell me? ”

“Of the past?”

“ If you can give me any facts of my
{past I may be the better able to judge
:of the future.”

“ Your hand, please, gentleman."

He gave it to her, and she glanced

fixedly at it for full a minute.
“ You are married,” she said.

   
  
  
  
    
  
    
  

   
  
      
  
   
  
  
    
    
   
 
 
  
    
   
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
     
   
  
 
    
    
   
   
  
   
    
  
  
   
  
 
    
   
  
  

           
         
      

  
 

 

 

  

H No-l’
“I say you are married, though the
world may not be aware of the fact.”

He colored, but made no reply, and
she continued:

“Your marriage was a sorrow to her
you wed, rather than to yourself; it
should not have been, but sorrow came
of it.”

“ You are guessing, gypsy."

“ Am I? Then the same power to guess
shows me that you nearly lost your life,
and a womansaved you from death.”

“Bah! This is all guesswork for the
past, so tell me, if you can, what my
future is to be? ” he said impatiently.

“You may not like it if I tell you the
truth, any more than you did what I
told you of the past! "

“Let me hear at least what you have
to say,” he demanded, impelled by her
strange revelation regarding his past.

“Well, you are leading a double life.”

“How do you mean?” he asked with
a start.

“ You are not true to yourself, or to
others, and some day you may rue the
possession of the riches you now enjoy—
some day it will be you who will suffer,
where others now sufier through you—
some day —”

" Bah! I want to hear no more of your
cant, for I did not seek you to have you
prate absurdly of the past and like a
magpie of the future! ”

“ Why then did you seek me? ”

“ To seek your aid.”

“ In what? ”

“ Are we alone? ”

“Wholly.”

“I will pay you handsomely for what
you do, and that is what you want."

“ Yes, gold is the God of the Gypsies,"
she said, with a sneer.

“There is a person in my way.”

“Yes, a woman."

“Again, you guess well."

“ Do you wish her to be put out of the
way?”

46 I ‘10.)!

“ In the grave? ”

“ Yes, or the bottom of the sea.”

“ Who is the woman? ”

“Will you do the work? "

U Yes-I, '

“ When? ”

“When do you wish it done? ”

“Within the week; but, mind you, it
must appear to be an accident, for there
must be no suspicion of foul play.”

“Trust me for that."

“ How will you get rid of her? ”

“She is not far away? ”

“She lives near."

“ Does she row on the river? ”

“Often.”

“ This is the season of storms?"

“Yes.”

“Then it is all eaSy enough. So tell
me who she is, and leave the rest to me."

“ Your price? ”

her eyes burning with a strange fire in
them.

In her hand she held an open telegram,
which she handed to him in silence.

He grasped it with a strange feeling
of dread, and saw that it was addressed
to Kathleen.

What he read sent every particle of
color from his face, for the telegram
read:

“Your brother Bennett died to-day.
’ The wound after all was fatal. Come at
i once! ”

 

CHAPTER XVII.
BACK IN VIRGINIA.

In the little burying ground of Ca-
tonsville, Maryland, a few miles out
from the City of Baltimore, a group
stood around an open grave and a

vice over the body of Bennett Carrol.
Around the grave were many with
sympathy for the mourning mother and
sister of the dead son and brother, but
no one seemed to know much about
them.
It was said in Catonsville, where they

from Virginia, and had come to the vil-
lage, to live, some time before—the
mother, son, and daughter.

The son had been brought there an
invalid. Soon after the mother had
gone away, leaving the sick one under
care of his sister and an old negress.

Then the mother had returned and
the daughter had gone away.

No letter ever had been mailed in
Catonsville, so the village Postmaster
said (and village Postmasters are au-
thority on all questions of gossip,) to
the daughter, so letters for her must
have been mailed from Baltimore.

A year the daughter was gone nearly;
then she had returned for the burial of
her brother.

A rumor, discussed as coming from
the village doctor, reported that the
young man had died from the effects of
a wound received some eighteen months
or so before his death, but how wounded
no one could learn, for it was a matter
upon which the gossips never ventured
to question Mrs. Carrol.

The young man had slowly faded out
of life, and yet, one recent day, when
death seemed yet some weeks away, he
had said:

“Mother, telegraph Kathleen to come
to me at once, for I am going."

He had said just what was true, for
within half an hour he was dead, and
the stage-driver, who drove between
Catonsville and the city, took in a tele-
gram telling the sister to comehto see
her brother buried.

All this surrounded the family with
mystery; but neither mother nor sister
revealed their secret, and Phillis had

 

“ Fifteen hundred now, and a thousand 7
more when she is dead.

“ I will give it; and pay you the first
installment now.”

He counted out the money, said a few

words to her in a low tone, and left the l

cabin. Soto had gone from the deck,
but the young and beautiful girl was
there. Randolph Norman gazed at her,
with surprise and admiration, for herj
form was exquisite and her face, though
dark, was most lovely.

“Soto asked me to put you ashore,
sir,” she said with a slight accent, and '
in a voice rich and melodious.

“I am certainly well pleased at the
change, fair girl,” he said, with a smile, :
and he stepped into the boat, while she, §
standing in the stern, sculled rapidly!
ashore. ,

“ I must see her again, for what a little .

beauty she is,” he muttered to himself 

as he walked homeward. ,

As he reached the steps he met a boy
descending, and started as he recognized
a telegraph messenger. ,

“ What could he want there? ” he
wondered.

But, ere he could question him,Kathleen
came out upon the plasma, her face white,

i

I
i

i' So had said the mother when
i

 

not a word to say when questioned, ex-
cept that “people would-git richer ef
dey ’tended to dere own business and
let other folks’ affairs alone.”

The sister came. and the two, mother

The, Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

clergyman was reading the burial ser- .

  

1.1

for it, I shall take it back, paying the
money he gave us on it, and yet having
enough over to fit the home up again,
while I will have the old servants back
again.

“It was my old home, Kathleen; as
you know—~my birthplace, and I long to
go back there.”

“Mother, I am glad to hear you say
this, and I have a thousand dollars laid
by which is at your service, if you”
need it.”

“And you, my child, will go with me? ”

“ Ah, no! My duty is where I am." '

“With that man?”

“ Yes, mother; for the end is not yet.”
“You would have had me believe,
Kathleen, that he was not the man you
had loved, but his brother; but I knew
the truth, and how you tried to shield'

1m.

“It is strange what love will make a

' woman do.”

had a little cottage home, that they were ;

“Do not upbraid me, mother; but I
must go back, for I cannot leave Glen
Idle, and I would not give up Violet for.
the world, for she is as dear to me now
as though she were my own child."

“ She is a lovely girl, and I only hope
that he will do the right part by her,
and by you.”

“ He will, he must, mother! I am
not the innocent girl I was three years
ago. I am a woman, and I know the
power I have and I shall use it to gain
the end I seek. I know all that Mr. Nor~
man is, and he shall betray no other
trust. I am jUSL hiding my time, mother."

“Then you do not love him, as I be-
lieved, for I know that he had pledged
himself to make you his wife publicly
within the year after your going there,
and that time is nearly ended.”

Laughter was a strange sound there, in
that home of death, and it fairly fright-

iened old Phillis; but it came from the

lips of Kathleen at her mother's words;
yet it was not the laughter of merriment.
It was in mockery. ,

“ Love him? Have you forgotten what
he tried to make me, mother? Have you
forgotten that we have just placed my
brother in the grave, and whose hand
it was that took his life? No, I do not
love him, mother—I hate him."

Mrs. Carrol started at the words, and
betrayed her surprise. She had believed
Kathleen won to submission by the
honied words of Randolph Norman, and
so had Bennett Carrol thought.

It was to have a talk with his sister
before he died that he had so suddenly

‘: asked that she be telegraphed for.

The two had never spoken together of
Randolph Norman. She had come to him
when wounded, and handing her the

,letter which had forced him to act, he

had simply said: “I fought to avenge
your honor. Kathleen."

After that the subject had never been
mentioned between them. When his
mother had returned and Kathleen had

-gone to Glen Idle, he had undersfood

and daughter, with old Phillis, stood:
in silence watching the coffin as it was 1

lowered into the grave.

“He has been a great sufferer; it is
better that the end has come. He is at
rest.”
the
clergyman spoke soothing words to her.

“ It was cruel that he should be taken
thus: but the end is not yet.”

So had said Kathleen to the clergy-
man, and, dry-eyed, she had turned from
the grave.

They went back to the little home, and
in the gathering twilight sat out upon
the piazza, gazing down upon, the grand
city, six miles away.

“ Now,~Kathleen, all is over," said the
mother sadly.

“Yes, mother; ,but will you remain
here?”

“Oh, no; I have a good offer for the
cottage, of considerable more than I
gave for it, and. as the gentleman who
bought Rose Hill has been unable to pay

     

that it was to have Norman, in the end,
make her his wife before the world:

Of all else, he knew nothing. and the
daughter alone knew the secret of it all.
The mother suspected much, but Kath-

? leen knew all.

“ Then you return to Glen Idle?“

“ Yes, as soon as I have gone back with
you to the old home and helped you to set
things to rights. I can give you a week,
mother."

They lost no time, and the next dav the
cottage was sold. the household goods
packed up and shipped, and Mrs. Carrot
and Kathleen, accompanied by old Phil-
lis. returned to Virginia.

With money to buy back the place, and
mother and daughter .dressed in deep

= mourning, the neighbors were anxious to

welcome them. for somehow the rumor

* prevailed that Kathleen had married the

.iiny. _ - \ ,

millionaire she had run off from home
with. and was.living in grand style in
New York. , ,

After one week at home, Kathleen re"- '
turned Northereturned to meet her

  

 

 
 
  
     
      
  
     

 

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

  

 

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE GAMBLER I’IX'JTTING.

When Randolph Norman read the tele- ,

gram announcing the death of Bennett
Carrol and calling Kathleen home at

cared to admit even to himself.

Not that he had caused the death of the
young man; ah, no! that gave him not a
pang. What troubled him was the fear
that the death might get him into further
trouble.

He had already plotted to get the sister
out of the way, and so had no com-
punctions of conscience on that score.

Would Bennett’s death cause inquiries
that might lead toward him as the one
who had killed him ?

Could he, with the affair going the
rounds of the papers, hope to prove that
he was Dr. Dudley Norman, and not Ran-
dolph Norman ‘?

His striking resemblance to his brother
would deceive many, it was true; but

there were some whom he could not de-
ceive if they should be called upon to
,. testify.

And getting into the papers, would it
- not reach the eyes of Dr. Curtis Carter
of Buffalo, and also of Dr. Antisane of
‘ the Electric Cure-All Sanitarium ?

True, personal reasons, such as a hun-
dred dollars a week for board, might keep
' the Cure~All man quiet, especially with
an additional incentive to prudence, and
the doctor might silence or get rid of the
1 nurse, Mr. Frederick Overton, if he
1 should read the sensation in the papers;
but, there was Dr. Curtis Carter, who
would not be a party to a downright
fraud knowingly.

If he had diagnosed the case wrong, it
would be his misfortune to have done so
under the existing circumstances, and
doctors were as liable to err, and only
find out their mistakes when the patient
was six feet under ground, as were law—
yers to discover theirs after their victim
had been hanged.

In thinking over all these things, Ran-

dolph Norman felt that the lines were
, being drawn close about him.
i Walter Vernon was in an insane
asylum, it was true, by his own will, but
then, he was deceived in the man whom
he had made his representative, and the
guardian of his child.

Dr. Dudley. Norman was the‘inmate of
a private asylum or sanitarium, under
the false pretense that he was not of sane
mind, and was thus defrauded of what
would have been justly his.

Kathleen—already his lawful wife—
gknew him as he really was, and was
governess to the daughter of the man
,whom he was deceiving and defrauding.

Mrs. Carrol also must know much of
his secret, and then there was Bennett
Carrol, who had just died by his hand.

4 He was certainly getting hedged in,
and he saw that his only hope was in
Kathleen—the woman he had so heart-
lessly mistreated and wronged.

His vanity led him to believe that she,
still, in her heart of hearts, loved him,
and he could mold her to his wishes.

" I must use her to save myself, even if
I have to have a public marriage here,
and get rid of her afterward. It will be
time enough then to think of winning
over little Violet. She is very young yet.
and, brought up by me, she will naturally
become devoted to me, and by the time
she is eighteen, at the rate I am going, I
will need her money to live on, for my
share of the estate cannot last always,
lmless I am more lucky in my card play-
ng.

“ At the present pace, I will go through

 

get as much more by marrying Violet.
Now I must get Kathleen under my. con-
trol. I will send for her.

He rang the bell and ordered the ser-
‘vant to ask Miss Randolph to please come
to the library.

“a: She’s yg't'me, sir.’.'

weir

 
  

it in six or seven years. But, then, I will i

gram that her brother had died suddenly,
and went at once.”

“But no carriage came to the door.”

“ No, sir; she walked to the station

i along with Miss Violet, and Bob carried

 u once, he was more deeply moved than he =‘

 

she was after getting a tele- you did not tell. me soon enough, so as to
u , » ‘ J . I I h x I. z .

her valise, sir.”

i

' put me to the test of keeping it; but I

“ Tell Miss Violet when she returns to z
‘ guess I'll keep out of it,” and Violet left

come to me,” and the impostor threw
himself back in his chair in no very
pleasant mood.

He knew that the train was already
gone, and it would be imposible to catch
the Express at seven, so as to see her.
He must await the consequences.

In a short while Violet returned and
entered the library.

Her face was flushed from her walk,
but her eyes were red from weeping.

“ Oh, Gardy ! isn’t it awful about poor,
dear Miss Randolph’s brother ‘? She
loved him so dearly, and has talked about
him so often to me.”

“ It is very. sad, child; but I had no idea
that she was going before that 7 o’clock
train,” and Norman glanced uneasily at
his ward, for he was fearful she had been
told something about him by her gov-
erness.

“No, she could not have caught the
Express if she had waited, so she went
at once, with only a small satchel. '

“Gardy, Mr. Randolph was shot, was
he not ? "

“ Who said so ? ”~ .

“Miss Randolph told me long ago h
had been wounded in a duel and could
never get well.”

“ Yes, I have heard something of it.”'

“How badly his murderer must feel
when he knows Bennett is dead, for it is
murder to kill a man, is it not, Gardy ? ”

" Yes, except in self-defense," and the
sweat stood in beads upon the forehead
of the man who was undergoing torture
under this fair young inquisitor.

“Well, Miss Randolph told me that her
brother had been shot in a duel with a
man who had done him a great wrong,
and I know she looked upon him as a
murderer, and I hope he will learn that
his victim is dead and that poor Mr. Car-
rol’s ghost will haunt him. I do hope so,
indeed, Gardy. ! ” .

" This is cruel of you, Violet, for the
other man may have been right; you
have only heard one side of the story.”

“I heard Miss Randolph’s side, and I
would believe her before any one, even
before you, Gardy.”

The man gazed at the girl almost in
horror.

Did she know the truth, or was it all
merely an accident?

To change the subject as soon as possi-
ble, he asked: _

“Did Miss Randolph say when she
would return, Vi ? ”

“ In about a week, she thought, and we
must be so sweet to her when she comes
back, as to make her forget her sorrows
all she can.

“ She will feel better to have her broth-
er dead, for she said that he has suffered
untold torture for over a year, and she
has wondered if the one who had shot
him could sleep, knowing the agony he
had caused him to endure.”

“ Yes, we must be very sweet to Miss
Randolph when she comes back; and do
you know, Vi, I have a secret to tell
you.”

“Oh, I love secrets, Gardy, so tell me
quick ! ”

“I love Miss Randolph and am going
to make her my wife.”

“ Oh, won’t that be splendid! She’ll be
my mother then, and I do love her so!
But, will she have you ? ”

The man was disappointed, for he was
in hopes that, young as Violet was, she
would be sorry to have him get married.

“Yes, she will have me, for I have
asked her, and now it is a secret no
longer.”

“ Because I know it, Gardy ? "

“ Oh, no; but because it Plight as well
be known to all now, for: the marriage
must soon take place."

“ Thank you for nothing, Gardy, for

.f‘

 

hope Miss Randolph will be happier, for
somehow I think she is unhappy; and,
Cards, you don’t seem to be cheerful like
you used to be. Is it because you are
in love ?

“ My! if love makes one wretched, I

her guardian to his own reflections.

 

CHAPTER XIX.
MISTRESS OF GLEN IDLE.
One day. Violet was delighted at be—
ceiving a letter from her governess.
It was written from the cottage at

Catonsville, the evening after the funerai,k

and told her all about the death of her
brother and his burial, as also that they
had decided to go back to Virginia.

Her guardian was not mentioned in it,
and Violet handed it to him to read.

But, though not mentioned in it, Ran-
dolph Norman breathed more freely; it
gave him a respite for yet a while.

Three days after another letter came.
It was dated at Rose Hill, Virginia, and.
inclosed a sketch of the house and the
scenery about it. It told Violet to expect
her at Glen Idle in a few days.

She stated that her mother had decided
to purchase back again the old house,
and, with the old servants, to make it
her dwelling place for the rest of her
life.

“ I was glad of this,” the letter went on
to say, “for the dear place is where I
have passed many. happy hours of my
girlhood. In truth, I only knew happi-
ness while here, and any sorrows that
have been mine have come after my leav-
ing Rose Hill.

“ You will see, by the sketch I send,
that a beautiful brook runs in front of
the house, just across the highway, and

beyond are the mountains, while we look.

from the piazza miles up and down'the
valley.

“ One day, some years ago, this brook
burst out ofits banks, swollen by a
freshet in the mountains, and it swept
over the road.

“I was standing looking at it rush
along, when I beheld a man struggling in
the torrent, and as I swim well, I at once
ran in and grasped the hand of the
drowning man.

" He was a splendid swimmer, brave
and strong, but the bridge two miles
above had broken in with him, and he
could struggle no longer, so I saved his
life.

“I could not help loving him, Violet,
he was so handsome, so courtly; but he
was unworthy of my love, and loving him
brought only sorrow and suffering to me.

“ Beware that you, never love unworth-
ily.”

This little bit of the life of her gov—
erness deeply impressed Violet.

She read it to her guardian, and when
she looked up his stern face fairly,
startled her. .

“ Why, Gardy, how cross you look!"
she had to exclaim.

“ Do I ? Well, I was thinking.”

“ Thinking, and I reading to you?
Well, I’ll not tell you any more of my
dear teacher, and perhaps I ought not to
have told you that. Ah ! you are jealous
because she has loved some one else be-
fore she did you ! ” and, with a laugh, the
little lady retreated to her'own room.

“ Curse her i This looks as though she
intended to tell the child all! But, so
far, she has done nothing, and no legal
notice has been taken of her brother’s
death, so I am safe. Her mother has re-
turned to Virginia to live, and she her-
self is coming back to Glen Idle.

“ So far, good! But I must let the
intended marriage be known, and then,
if ought befalls her, why, I will have the
deepest sympathy of the community, and
even her mother can have no clue to
fix suspicion on me.

“ Then, with Kathleen gone, I must

work to'get rid of Dudley, for he is   
ing me fear-fully, just‘ for “his < a 

fanatics. .- ‘:

       

l. »' '5’

L

  
 
  

  
    
  
  
  
  
   
     
         
        
       
       
        
    
     
     
    
       
       
      
     
     
      
      
       
       
     
       
        
         
         
   
      
      
     
   
       
   
       
     
   
       
     
     
   
 
        
      
        

  
 

         
    
     
      
    
         
     
     
     
       
     
          
     
     
     
       
     
     
     
     
       
       
     
     
       
       
     
     
      
      
       
       
       
         
         
 
 

   

 

 

 

“ I wonder if that sly nurse could not
arrange it for me, so as to let him go off
slowly ? The fellow looks like a villain,
and five thousand cash might tempt him
to do it ! r

“ After that, I would have to get rid of
him, of course; but I will give him a
place here with me as valet and can soon
put him out of the Way.

“With Kathleen gone, Dudley in his
grave, and the mine out of the way,
would have nothing further to fear.

“But, first, I must publicly marry
Kathleen.”

So ran the thoughts of this veritable‘attempt treated him with silence; the

Lucifer.

Three days after, Kathleen Carrol ar—
rived at Glen Idle. She was not in
mourning, for she would not carry her
grief into the presence of sunny-hearted
little Violet.

Kathleen at once sought the master at
Glen Idle in his library, when she had re—
turned to her duties.

He had not dared go out to meet her,
.so pretended to be taking a nap in his
easy chair, for Violet peeped in, and
found him apparently asleep.

When Kathleen had laid aside her
wraps, she went to him.

He arose and extended his hand; but
she did not raise it, and said, coldly:

“ I have returned to my duties, Dr. Nor-
man.”

“I am glad to see you back again,
Kathleen,” he said, in an embarrassed
way.

" My brother died from the effects of
the wound you gave him, I wish you to
know, and now the matter need not be
referred to again.”

“ But there is another thing I wish to
refer to, Kathleen, and that is to remind
you that the year is nearly gone.”

“You refer to the year in which you
were to openly claim me as your wife? ”

It Yes-1’

“You need not worry about that, for
now I shall not consent to the mockery."

“ Not consent! ” he cried, almost in ter-
ror.

“No; for I stopped in Baltimore, and
there stands the record of our marriage
registered, so that makes me your wife,
should occasion arise to prove it.

“I prefer to be known as Miss Ran-
dolph here, and so shall remain as the
governess of Violet.”

" Not unless you openly become my
wife must you remain.”

“Randolph Norman, I shall do as
seems to me best in this matter. You
cannot frighten me. You shall enter into
no plot against Violet, that I have
vowed.

“ I love her as though she were my own
.child, and I shall remain with her until
her father again takes her under his own
charge, or she marries some man worthy
of her. .

“If you dismiss me, I shall not go, and
I defy you to put it to the test. Let us be
outwardly friends, but there is nothing
between us but a grave—yes, the grave

The Gambler-Gua

tMiss Randolph about her coming mar-

I
l few weeks after Miss Randolph’s return.

I'ited; but that was set down as sorrow
| for the grief of his intended bride.

i

J

‘ riage, and even Violet would not speak

Randolph was the daughter of the form—
er governess and housekeeper, Mrs. Car—
rol. Not even Violet knew this.

Not a servant had the temerity to ask

of it, knowing her grief.
So matters went on at Glen Idle for a

Randolph Norman appeared low spir—

Twice he had essayed to speak with
Kathleen again, but she had at the first

second time she had turned upon him like
a tigress, With this outburst:

“ Randolph Norman, dare to refer to
that subject. again and I vow to you I I
will have you arrested as my brother’s
murderer, as a man living a double life,
and will expose you in all your guilt.

“Be warned or the axe suspended over
your head will fall at once! ”

As she said this, the innocent Virginia.
girl of three years before had developed
into a woman. full of hatred and re-
venge.

The next day he announced at break-
fast that he would have to go to the
city for a week, and departed on the
noon train.

The truth was the fit was upon him to
drown his thoughts in drink and gam-
bling.

He always put up at a fashlonable hotel
near the club, and was wont, when in the
city, to drink heavily and play with reck-
lessness.

He had the name of being a very rich
man.

The club he belonged to was not a
ultra-fashionable one, but one that had
a great many free-and-easy—men-about-
town in it.

No' one suspected of a dishonorable
act was allowed a membership; but there
were many belonging to the “ All Night
Club ” who were certainly not ornaments
to society.

A stern man, friendly with few, and
not fond of yachting, horses, or sports,
“Doctor Dudley Norman ” was not a‘
very popular man, save as a. gambler and ’
companion at dinner. .

He never cared to eat a meal alone, so
always invited some member to join ,
him, and all were glad to do so, for he ;
was an epicure and the wine flowed '
freely.

Yet he always went to the opera or
theatre alone, and drove or rode in the
park without companionship.

But the “Doctor” Was known to be a
great gambler, and had very coolly lost
as high as five'thousand on a gamewith—
out flinching.

The club men counted it up against
him one night, after he had lost heavily,

 

 

t

also of a departed love, hope. and honor.” I

Without another word, Kathleen left
the library, and if she heard him call
after her in pleading tones, she did not
heed. Whatever Randolph Norman might
call himself, “Miss Randolph, the gov-

“ erness,” was certainly mistress at Glen
‘ldle.

 

CHAPTER XX.
LOST.
Of course it got around that Kathleen,
or “Miss Randolph," was to marry the

l

and gone to his hotel, and they made it '
amount to about sixty thousand dollars
in losses the past two years, while his
winnings had amounted to a quarter of
that sum.

Arriving in the city, when he ran down
for a week, to drown his thoughts, Doctor
Norman, as all knew him and supposed
him to be, went to dine at the All Night
Club the second day of his stay in town,
after he had created an appetite by a
drive in the park, and sundry absinthes 1
at the Mount Morris. 

He caught sight of only one member 
as he went to the cloak room, and said:

“ Come, Bonnell, join me at dinner,
won’t you? ”

“ Just came in to dine, thank you,

 

master. The servants were full of it, and doctor, so I Will 30in you With pleasure,"

were secretly rejoicing at a coming wed-
ding.

erness forbade familiarity from any one,§ ten.

save sweet Violet.

replied Roger Bonnell, a young man who

, belonged to the club, and was supposvd to
Though they all were much attached to : be an author. though no .one remembered
her, something in the manner of the gov- , to have ever seen anything he had writ-

He was not a regular attendant, but

All the servants knew, of course, that I always paid his dues regularly, and now :
Miss Randolph had gone home to attend and then had been known to gamble a g
the funeral of her brother, and one and, little. 3

all offered her their sympathy upon her,1

return.

A good-looking fellow, well dressed, -
' pleasant mannered, and seemingly rath-

Not one of them suspected that Miss er indifferent to the way" of the “mild,

1
. , 

rdian’s Double

Deal.

but a good talker and entertaining as a.
dinner companion.

The dinner passed off pleasantly, and,
as they lighted their cigars, a servant
from the club ofiice came in with a tele—
gram.

Norman slightly started as it was
handed to him, and there was just the
slightest tremor to his fingers as he
opened it; while seeming to think that
Bonnell had observed his nervousness,
he remarked:

“I always dnead a telegram, many as
I have received.

“ I— My God! ”

 

He dropped the telegram and the quick _

eye of Roger Bonnell read it at a glance:
It read:
“ Come home at once!
Randolph is lost!

Poor dear Miss
“ Violet.”

CHAPTER XXI. l
A BOLD GAME TO PLAY. 2

“ No bad news, I trust, Dr. Norman? ".
queried Roger Bonnell as though he
had not had the telegram which Norman
had dropped upon the table.

In an
again, as he responded: “ I sincerely
hope not so bad as this message would
imply, for it is from my little ward, a
miss of thirteen, and tells me that her
governess is lost, whatever that may im-
ply.”

“ Ah! her governess? ”

“Yes, and when I add that I am en-
gaged to the lady whom my ward re-
ports as lost, you can understand my dis-
tress.

%

l
instant Norman was himself

But I must say good night, Bon- .

 

nell, and be off at once for home.”

He grasped his friend’s hands and 
hastily left the club. 5

It was nearly nine o’clock when he i
sprung out of the carriage at Glen Idle, '
and beheld a crowd of men there.

Violet met him as he entered the door,
and cried: '

“ 0h, Gardy! SShe is gone. Poor Miss
Randolph! 

“ Come, Violet, tell me just what has?
happened, for I could learn nothing from
your telegram,” and he threw himself.-

into an easy chair, shading his face from  ‘

the lamp. ,

“She went out for a row in the river,
Gardy, just before sunset, and a squall
came over the Palisades and the waves
upset her boat, for the Gypsy Soto saw
it floating bottom upwards and went out
and brought it in.

“ The gypsies had seen poor Miss Ran-
dolph rowing in the river, and were
fearful for her safety when the squall

came up, for it was so sudden and se— ‘I

vere.

‘ t...

“I haVe had men searching for her '

ever since, Gardy; but I am so glad you
have come, for you know just what to
do,” and tears rolled down the cheeks
of Violet as she spoke.

Randolph sprung to his feet and begun
to pace to and fro. There was much
to be done. Mrs. Carrol must be at once
notified, and in such a way as not to
have it reflect upon himself.

So he turned and wrote a telegram,
worded as follows:

“ I have fears that Miss Randolph has
been drowned, though still hope for the
best. Can you come at once to Glen Idle?
Answer! Dudley Norman."

This was dispatched from the station,
and then Norman formed the men who
had gathered about into search parties
to try and find the body.

S‘oto organized a party among the Sea
Gypsies, and went to work, diving deep
where he had picked up the pretty little
rowing skiff, and also dragging the bot-
tom with pile-hooks attached to weights.

But the night passed, and the body
was not found, and at daylight Norman
retired to his room for rest, to be awak-
ened at near noon by his valet with a
telegram.

It read simply: “I leave immediately. 
Answer me on Train No. 5 out of Philasr

delphia, if there is hope. . .»
“ Mrs. ("arrolf’i

 

‘ >,~nr’,hr‘i"“v"v*‘..». . ~ I ' ‘

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

 

 

The answer was sent as directed.

“Not yet found. Will meet train on
arrival. “ Dudley Norman.”

at the depot in Jersey City, Norman met
her.

Her face was white and haggard, but
she was calm, and did not take his of-
fered hand, while she asked in a husky
voice:

“ Is she dead? ”

“ Alas! I fear so.”

“ Tell me all! ”

As they rode out through the city to
Glen Idle, the desolate mother heard all.

Her manner softened somewhat to-
wards the man when she learned that
he was away from home at the time of
the loss of her daughter, for a terrible
suspicion had come into her heart that
he had had something to do with her
death.

“My dear Mrs. Carrol,” he said, in a
low, earnest tone, seeming to understand
just what her thoughts were:

“It has pained me deeply in the past
to know that you mistrust me, and, un-
der all circumstances, I cannot condemn
you for so doing.

“I saw that you were suspicious of
me when you were at Glen Idle, and
afterwards I learned the cause—that you

‘believed me to be Randolph Norman,
and so arranged that your daughter
should come in your place so as to con—
front me with what you believed my
crimes.

“ She came, and she, too, believed me
to be Randolph, at first, and boldly ac-
cused me of the crimes of which he is
guilty.

“Now it was at my urgent entreaty
that your daughter remained at Glen
Idle, and took the name of Miss Ran-
dolph, for I was determined to find my
brother and prove at least that I was
innocent.

“What your daughter may at least
have, deemed me, or have said to you, I
do not know; but I wish to tell you that
I have found my brother and—”

“Do you mean this, Doctor Norman,
cried the widow, eagerly.

“ I have, madam, as I said, found my
brother, and I hoped long ago to have
convinced both you and your daughter
that you had greatly wronged me.

“ But, alas! my poor brother’s present
condition accounts for the wild acts of
his life, the crimes he committed, for
he is the inmate of a mad house.”

“My God! How terrible! ”

“ It is to me, certainly so; but I put
detectives upon his track, found him,
only to discover that he was mad.

“I consulted with the best specialists
- in brain diseases, and he has been under
the care of the most skillful physicians,
I hoping that he would regain his mind.

“ But it is to no purpose; he is hope-
lessly insane.

“ Despairing of his recovery, I had de-
cided to take your daughter to visit him,
~ that she might take from me the belief
that I was the guilty one.

_ “Could she have seen him, seen how

alike we are, and that one day he calls
himself Dudley Norman and the next
Randolph Norman, she would feel how
his poor brain is wrecked.

“ I fear that our nurse in child-
hood had much to answer for in this,
as she was constantly mixing us up in
our own minds as a joke.

“Why, something over a year ago I
had a letter from him from California,
. signing himself by my name, and it was
' through that he was traced by the de-
tectives.”

“I recall the letter, sir,” almost whis—
pered Mrs. Carrol.

“ Now, y dear madam, it is my wish
that you see my brother, that you go to
the asylum and talk with him, that you
may have proof that I have been
wronged, ruelly wronged, by your
daughter, w om, I must tell you, I could
mot ,h’elp loving with all my heart and

His voice quivered, and Mrs. Carrol

‘ said earnestly, as she grasped his hand:

 

“I have wronged you, Doctor Norman, :

' and s has In ' oor child.
As Mrs. Carrol stepped from the train 1 0 3 D

“You are not guilty for your brother’s
crimes, and humbly I ask you to forgive
me.

“No, no! Not for anything would I
go to see your brother! It is not neces—
sary, for I believe you now, and again
ask your forgiveness.”

“It is freely granted, my dear Mrs.
Carrol; but we are nearing Glen Idle,
and let me ask you if you do not think
it best that your daughter should still be
known as Miss Randolph, for—~”

“Yes, it is beter so.”

“You know the house and the scr-
vants, so can take charge for the pres-
ent, and your daughter can be spoken
of as one most dear to you, for all know
that you secured her in your place.”

“Yes; but God grant she be not lost.”

“Amen!” fervently said Norman, as
the train stopped at the Glen Idle sta-
tion.

CHAPTER XXII.
A MIDNIGHT VISITOR.

With the coming of Mrs. Carrol, the
search for Kathleen’s body was renewed
with two-fold vigor, and Randolph Nor-
man, in the excitement of the moment,
offer a reward of five thousand dollars
for the finding of the body.

This naturally made people work with
a greater .will, and even the waters of the
lower bay were patroled by boats hoping
to find the body borne out upon the tide
when it should rise from the depths.

Everybody felt the deepest sympathy
for the Master of Glen Idle, for it was
rumored that, in a few weeks, he was
to have married the unfortunate gov-
erness.

No one thought of its being other than
accident, and the idea of suicide seemed
out of the question.

Still Mrs. Carrol feared that the ex-
ciiement which Kathleen had gone
through with of late, and the death of
her brother might have brought on
temporary aberration of the mind, and
the poor girl have taken her own life in
a fit of desperation.

Two weeks did Mrs. Carrol remain at
Glen Idle, until all hope of finding the
remains seemed to have passed away.

Then she said she must go home, and
asked that Violet should go with her.

It was a good thought for Randolph
Norman, for he wished to be out from
under the scrutiny of the inquiring eyes

‘of the young girl.

Not that she suSpected him of the
slightest wrong; but, then, she asked so
many questions, and if his answers were
not satisfactory she at once constituted
herself an inquisitor.

Mrs. Carrol was anxious to have the
little heiress accompany her, if only for
a month. She had no longer any belief
in the deception of Randolph Norman,
but believed him to be the real Doctor
Norman—the brother of the man who
had wrought so much of misery to her
and her’s. Still she could but feel a cer-
tain restraint or reserve towards him,
though she argued in her own mind that
she was wrong in doing so.

So Mrs. Carrol and Violet started for
Virginia, Norman escorting them to the
train in Jersey City and seeing to their
wants in everything, while he forced
upon the lady what he Was pleased to
call the amount due her daughter for
services as governess, and which Mrs.
Carrol deemed to be about treble what
was really due.

But Norman assured her that he was
right, handed her the tickets which he
had purchased, and the checks to the
baggage, along with a box containing
certain souvenirs he had purchased for
the widow and Violet in the city, and
then took his leave.

The “ souvenirs ”

were an elegant
watch and chain for Violet, and an order
on a Baltimore marble cutter for a su-

perb monument, to cost not less than
two thousand dollars, to be erected con-
jointly to the memory of her husband,
son and daughter in the village church—
yard near where she lived, for the body
‘ of Bennett Carrol had already been taken
thither.

This touched Mrs. Carrol deeply, and
she murmured:

“God bless him! ”

Then she looked at a note that had es-
caped her attention, and read:

“ I beg you to at once order the menu-
ment, for I wish to see it when I come.
to Virginia in a couple of months.

“And I have taken the liberty of hav-
ing sent to you a good horse and ba-
rouche, along with Violet’s riding horse,
so you can drive about the mountains
and enjoy yourselves.

“Dick, the footman, will carry the
horses and barouche through, and left
two days ago on the through freight
train.

“If there is any service I can render,
command me.

“Any news I get of your lost' one, I
will at once send you.

“ Ever respectfully,

“Dudley Norman."

Such was the letter, and with tears in
her eyes Mrs. Carrol murmured a prayer
to Heaven for the Master of Glen Idle,
while Violet said:

“It‘s just like Gardy, ever kind and
thoughtful.

“ What gallops I will have through the
mountains, and we can take long‘drives
together, too!

“ Why, I am really happy at going
with you, auntie.” '

And while the train rolled on south
ward, Randolph Norman returned to
Glen Idle.

It looked desolate, indeed, without the
presence of the beautiful governess, and
the merry laughter of Violet.

But the master was glad to be alone.
He wished to be without restraint, and
so he had sent Jessie, Violet’s maid,
along with his ward, and as there was
no one in the mansion but the stately
butler and the woman who was to act
temporarily as housekeeper, he was left
pretty much to himself. The large re-
ward caused him to be still bothered
with visitors.

The gypsies still remained in their
camp, and Soto seemed not to have given
up the hope of finding the body, for
daily he was seen out in his skiff, going
along the shores of the river.

The first night of his stay alone, Ran-
dolph was not a happy man. He had
dined late and had drank deeply.

Then he told the butler to keep the
hall lights burning and he would put
them out, and that his valet was not to
awaken him until noon. *

The truth was the man began to feel
the presence of the dead about him, and
yet he preferred to be alone.

After dinner, he sat in his library,
, brilliantly lighted, and began to think.

The wine he had taken had not, as it.
would have done under ordinary circum-
stances, caused him to feel its effects.

His brain seemed strangely clear, mt B-
so than he could have wished, for he
had intended to deaden his sensibilities.

He conned over his past, and how his.
passion for gambling had led him to
squander money.

Then he had recklessly appropriated
the funds of others entrusted to his care,
and from bad to worse he had gone, un-
til he had deceived Kathleen Carrol most
basely, the woman to whom he owed his
life, and had added to his crime by giv— '
ing her brother a wound which in the
end had proven fatal to him.

His accidental fortune in impersonat-
ing his brother, and the double life he
was then leading, with that brother who
had so often befriended him then suf-
fering in a mad house, all this came upon
him as he pondered there in his library.
| He had lulled the suspicions of Mrs.

Carrol; his brother must be put away,

 

i

 

 

 

and it would be safe if Walter
never recovered.

In the midst of his meditations he
started, for their came a tap upon the
window.

He glanced up and beheld a face peer-
ing at him through the curtains, that
were partly drawn aside.

It was a face that made him spring to
his feet with a cry of alarm.

Vernon

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
A FEE ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

Alont 3:: the room, and alone with his
though.s. .he tap on the window had
startled nandolph Norman as with a
shock. '

The window was open, and the curtains
not half drawn, for the night was warm.
He had heard no step upon the broad
piazza, but he sprang in alarm to his
feet to behold a face gazing in upon him!

He saw at a second glance whose face
it was, and then cried, sternly:

“ Curse you! What do you want here? ”

“Never curse a gypsy, for you know
how like chickens curses are; they go
home to roost.”

“ How did you get here? ”

“ Walked.”

“ But into my grounds?”

“Over the iron gate.”

“And the dogs never tore you to
pieces? ”

“ Oh, no; dogs never attack a gypsy.”

“ Well, what do you want?”

“ To talk business.”

“ I have nothing to talk to you about.”

“ Oh, yes, you have.”

“ Well, what is it?”

“ Let me come inside the room and I
will tell you.”

“ The window is open,” said the man,
sullenly; and the next moment, taking
this as an invitation, the curtains were
drawn back and the midnight visitor en-
tered.

It was the old Queen of the Sea Gyp-
sies! She was a weird-looking creature
in her fantastic dress and long white
hair, as she stood there beneath the
glare of the lights.

“Be seated,” said Norman, in a tone
of sarcasm, and with mock politeness.

The woman took him at his word and
sunk into a luxurious chair.

“ Did any one see you come here? ’

“ Oh, no; I am particular in my deal-
ings with gentlemen.”

“Do any of your people know that
you came? ”

“ No. Why should they? ”

“How is it that you came past my
dogs, which are noted for being vicious,
and are kept to drive river pirates off.”

“ I am not a river pirate.”

“ The dogs do not know that.”

“ Oh, yes; dogs have more sense than
some human beings. Yours came to the
gate and saw me enter, yet did not dis-
turb me."

“ It is strange.” ‘

The woman laughed lightly, and Nor—
man quickly demanded:

“ Why have you come? ”

“ For my pay.”

“ Your pay? ”

“ Yes, certainly.”

“ Why, you already have fifteen hun-
dred dollars of my money! ”

“I know, and I was to get one thou-
sand more when the work was done.”

“But, you never did what you agreed
to, though I confess it was not your
fault.”

“ Oh, yes, I did it.”

“ Did what? ”

“ Got rid of her."

“ You? Why, she was upset in her boat
by the storm that suddenly came up."

“Oh, no; you are mistaken; she was
riding the storm well, and showing great
pluck, so would easily have reached the
shore, but for an accident."

“And that accident was the capsizing
of her boat? ”

‘ “ Yes, by the hands of a Sea Gypsy.”

OF

1
l

“Ha! Do you mean this? ”

“It is true.
he brought the boat ashore and kept it
as a witness that the storm had upset
her boat.”

done the work? ”

do it, by my order.”

“One thousand more,
you? ”

“Yes, one thousand more.”

“And there is no doubt about her
death? ”

I promised

water for weeks? ”
“But are you sure she drowned? ”
“Where is she, if she has not?”
“True; only the body was not found.”
“ So much the better, for it keeps her
grave from haunting you."
The man shuddered, and the Gypsy
Queen added:
“ Is it any wonder that a body should

like a mill race, and the sea is near ?

“ Why, the tide, when the body rose,
carried it out, doubtless by night, in a
few hours from here through the Nar-
rows and well out to sea.”

“ Very probable; so I will pay you your
price; but remember, this ends it, for
there are to be no more calls upon me.”

“I never take pay twice for the same
work.” ’

“And who else than yourself knows
of this—this—work? ”

“ Soto, as I said—Soto, my son.”

“Ah!” and Randolph Norman arose
and went to what appeared to be a desk.

This desk swung out from one side on
hinges, when a spring was touched, re-
vealing an iron door a couple of feet
wide by five in height.

This door was opened by a combina-
tion lock, revealing an iron vault, or
safe, within, and here the valuables of
Glen Idle were kept.

He seemed to have no fear from the
Gypsy watching him, for that safe re-
ceptacle could not be opened by an ex-
pert burglar under many hours, and to
touch it, without disconnecting a secret
spring, known only to Mr. Vernon, Vio-
let, and himself, would ring an alarm
in the master’s bed—room, the kitchen
and the servants’ quarters.

The money, one thousand dollars, was
counted out and paid to the woman, who
accepted it without thanks, and then
turned her eyes upon the decanter of
brandy with a wistful look that Ran-
dolp-. could not ignore.

“ Will you have a glass of brandy?"
he asked, willing to conciliate her all in
his power.

“I will, for the master of Glen Idle
drinks a liquor a poor Gypsy, even' a
queen, can know not the taste of.

“ Your health, sir! and may these spir-
its be the only kind that ever haunt
yr 11! ”

He shuddered at the toast, but bowed,
\and drinking off the liquor, the Gypsy
Queen started towards the window.

“ One minute.”

“ Well, sir.”

“How much longer will you remain
about here? ”

“We will leave within the week.”

“ To go where? ”

"‘ Whither the winds carry us. We
never sail against a wind; we go with it.”

“Ah! then I suppose I shall never
see you again.”

“The world is large, sir; but men
often cross each other’s path in it.”

“True. Good-by.”

She bowed with a strange grace and
glided out through the window.

Norman listened, but there was no
sound of a bark from his dogs, and all
was quiet.

When the butler came into the room
in the morning, he found the lights still
burning and the decanter empty.

" The Master made a night of it, but
then he’s in sorrow,” the man servitor
said.

 

Soto did the work, and ‘

“ I do, from having one of my people r

“Can a human being live beneath the

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.-

9

l

15

CHAPTER XXIV.
A SECOND NIGHT OF HORROR.
It was noon when the Master of Glen

. Idle arose to his breakfast.

1
“So you claim the reward for having ‘

Jessoo, his valet, called him just at

, twelve, and after a bath, a stiff brandy

 

and soda, and some coffee, Norman felt
quite himself.

“This won’t do,” he muttered, as he
walked out into the grounds, after his
noonday breakfast.

“ This will not do, for I shall break
down under it. I must drink less and
keep better hours. I have little to dread
now, or will have, in fact, nothing, after
I have seen that sleek rascal, Frederick
Breton, my brother’s attendant.

“ Yes, all will go well then, and Old
Vernon, too, will drop off in the course
of time.

“ If I have spent my share, by the time
I marry Violet, say, in five or six years,
what she has will enable us to live splen-

not be found, when the tide runs out , didly, and I will be ‘willing to settle

. down, having sowed my wild oats.

Equestion of conscience.

 

 

“But there is some work to be done
yet, and it then comes down to only a
I guess I can
school myself to forget, though devils!
what a time I had of it last night!

“ I had the horrors.

“ I must school myself against all this,
and be surprised and startled at nothing
—ohl There is Bludso, and I’ll ask him
about those infernal dogs.” ‘

He called to his head man as he saw
him crossing the yard.

“ Ho, Bludso! where are your dogs?"

“ Chained, sir,” answered the man, po-
litely. “I always chain them up, sir, at
six in the morning, you know, and turn
them loose at half past nine, unless you
are out, sir, or have company.”

“And do you consider them good
brutes? ”

“I do, sir, the best in the land.”

“ Are they watchful? ”

“Yes, sir; wide awake, for, you see,
they sleeps all day.”

“ And would bite a stranger? ”

“ I’m the only one, sir, that they let
in the mansion grounds of a night.”

" And yet I think I saw a Gypsy in
the grounds last night.”

“ Ah, Dr. Norman, there’s the rub, for
Gypsies dose hoodoo dogs.”

“ Hoodoo them? ”

“ Yes, sir, charms ’em, for I never see
a dog as would bite a Gyp.

“ No, sir, they seems to cow ’cm down
at will.”

“Well, I fear those Gypsies may be
looking around for no good, and if you
see that tall, handsome young fellow
they call Soto, and the old hag they call
a Queen, in the grounds at night, shoot
them! ”

“ Lordy, I'd not kill a Gyp, Docnor Nor—
man, for ten years’ service money. Why,
they’d track me to death in no time! ”

" Well, 1 am sure one was in the pi-
azza last night, looking in at me in the
library, and so I fear they mean trouble.
But, never mind; I’ll watch them, Bludso,
as you are afraid to.” .

"I am, sir, for a fact, for I knows
’em, and these Sea Gyps is worse than
any other kind.”

Norman said no more and strolled on
about the grounds.

Later on he took a drive of a couple of
hours, and returned to dinner at seven.

Then he again went to his library, de-
termmed to school himself into going
to bed at midnight, and show his de-
fiance of haunting spectres, by putting
out the lights himself.

He drank less than the night before,
ate with more relish, and, in dressing-
gown and slippers, and with a fragrant
cigar between his teeth, went to his li-
brary to glance over the papers, which
of late he had neglected.

He turned from the papers to some ac-
counts: then he took up a novel. and
when the clock on the mantel, modeled
after an old country church with its;
graveyard about it, chimed out, day-

 

   
   
    
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
    
   
   
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
   
 
   
   
    
  
  
   
 
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
   
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
    
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
  
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
 
   
  
  

 

\

  

 

  

‘ night.

i ,_, “7,. -w” ~ ‘ l

‘16

 

—. 4.5,.

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

 

toned and mournful, the hour of mid-
night, he went promptly to retire.

As he did so there came a tap on the
window, as upon the night before!

He started in' spite of himself, and
stepping there drew back the curtain.

It was Soto, the Gypsy.

“ Ha! you are fortunate that I did not
kill you, for I am armed. What do you
wish, Gypsy? ”

Soto stepped, into the library, wiile
Norman turned} pale and trembled with
rage.

« It was so easy to kill him, and it
_. would appear as though he had shot the
Gypsy. as a burglar.

But then, Bludso’s words flashed across
his mind—now they would track him to
death, should he kill one of their tribe.

' And again he would have the old
Queen to deal with.‘

So he repeated:

“ Well, what do you want here, and at
night? "

“I thought you would prefer for me
to come at night.”

“ And why so? ”

" For my reward."

" What reward? "

“ For the body.“

“ Great God! have you found the
body? ” gasped the Master of Glen Idle.

u Yes."

“Where is it? ”

“ 0n the schooner.”

“ And all know it is there? ”

“ No; it is hidden away, and only the
Queen and I know it is there. Will you
come and see it? ”

“No! no! no! that is, I do not wish
to see it, for it has been so long in the
water that—”

“ Well, shall I carry it to sea, for we
sail to-morrow, and drop it into the
ocean with weights? ”

“ Yes, yes; it would be better so; far
better.”

“ Give me my reward, then? "

“ I will pay you a thousand, and—~”

“ You offered five thousand, so that is
my price.”

“ I will not pay it.”

“Then I will take it to the Chief of
Police in the city, and tell him that you
were willing to pay to have the lady
die, and maybe there might have betn
foul play in regard to her death."

Norman fairly quivered with rage, and
was pallid with fear; but he controlled

, himself and said, in an indifferent way:

“It would be the trumped story of a
Gypsy, and no one would believe it; but,
as I offered the reward, I suppose I must
pay it, so will do so; but you are to take
the body to sea and sink it."

“ Yes; that is understood.”

“ You pledge yourself to this? "

“ On the honor of a Gypsy.”

Norman walked over to his desk,
opened the safe and counted out the
money, for he made it a rule always to
have a large sum on hand, should he
have to decamp suddenly.

The Gypsy received the money, and
said simply:

“ Good-by.”

Another moment and he was gone, and
once more did the lights burn all night,
for to Randolph Norman it was another
night of horror.

The next morning the blue-hulled
schooner of the Sea Gypsies was not at
her anchorage.

‘She had sailed under cover of the

 

CHAPTER XXV.
THE DETECTIVE CALLS.

'Having paid the reward, which he
had offeied for the body of Kathleen,
Randolph Norman felt easier in mind.

He argued that the gypsies would not
dare betray him, as they were the guilty
ones, and they would doubtless be sat-
isfied with the large sum which he had

. paid them and would never again cross ,
' his path.

‘ g “ This is as expensive as
lainbling,” he muttered, as he recalled
how much his sins had cost him.

But there was more work to be done
before his mind could be at ease, and
by this he, of course, meant the death
of his brother and also the death of Wal—
ter Vernon. Only until that was done
would there be no one to contest his
claim to all of the estate, and the guard-
ianship of Violet.

And after all this diabolical addition
to his crimes he expected to be capable
of enjoying the ease and position which
great wealth only could secure.

If he bribed the nurse, Frederick Bre-
ton, to cut short the career of his
brother, and afterward get him the
place of an attendant on Walter Ver-
non to carry out the same fatal game,
he reasoned that what the man would
have done, certainly would keep him
silent for his own safety, and having
been liberally paid for his valuable ser-
vices he doubtless would return to Eng-
land to play the gentleman on his com-
petence. But, this Lucifer’s thoughts
took shape: “if he getstroublesome, why,
then, I must take him in hand myself,
and thus destroy the last link of evidence
against me, and I think I can do it with-
out danger to myself.

“But, great God! what a fatal list it
foots up! and all for gold!

“And, how it all comes out just as
lying does, for, as one lie told must be
hidden by others, so one life taken must
cost others to conceal it.

“ And the expense?

" It is fearful, for I shall not get off
with less than fifty thousand dollars in
bribes and expenses, and I have lost that
much already over the gaming table.

“A hundred thousand gone, not for
expenses either; but then it is to preserve
to me a million.”

So set this master of evil musing in
his library the next day after the sailing
of the Sea Gypsies.

His reveries were broken in upon by
the butler announcing a visitor.

“ Why, Bonnell, this is a surprise,”
he said, as he recognized Roger Bon-
nell, the young author with whom he
had been dining at the club when Vio-
let’s dispatch came announcing that her
governess was lost.

He did not say to Bonnell that his
visit was a pleasure, but a surprise.

It was a surprise, as he had never
asked him to Glen Idle, and so he won-
dered why he had come.

“Yes, I thought I would surprise you;
but I wished to have a talk with you on
a little matter of business.”

“ I will be in the city soon, and—”

“ Ah, yes, but I deemed it best to see
you here, so ran up on the train and
walked over from the station.

“You have a superb house here, Doc-
tor Norman."

“Yes,” and Norman was annoyed or
worried, for what could have brought
Bonnell up out of the city to see him?

“You must pardon me, Doctor Nor-
man, for I knew I came to a home of
mourning, as no word of your missing
governess has been found, I suppose? "

“She is dead; I supposed you knew
that.”

“It was so stated.”

“Yes, she was drowned, being caught
out on the river in a sudden squall which
overturned her boat."

“It was very sad, for she was certain-
ly a very beautiful woman.” .

“Then you‘ have seen her? ” and Nor-
man spoke quickly, almost excitedly.

“ Oh yes; seen her quite often, I may
say; and it is of Miss Randolph that I
came to see you.”

" Indeed? And what could you have
had in common with my ward’s gover-
ness, Mr. Bonnell?” asked Norman
haughtily.

“ The truth is, Norman, I had some
business matters with her, and —”
" Business with Kathleen Carrol—"

 

“ No, with Miss Randolph, I said.”
“ Ah, yes,” and the man’s face flushed
at his mistake, while Bonnell continued:
“Now I would ask you. Doctor Nor-
man, to swear to secrecy, if I: tell you—
/

that is, you will not betray me in any
way.”

“I cannot understand all this. Bon-
nell,”

“ I will explain
pledge.”

“ To do what? ”

“ Not to betray me.”

“In Satan’s name to whom can I be-
tray you?”

“ To any one. You will not let any one
know about me, or what I may tell
you? ” he persisted. -

“ You speak like a madman, but I give
you the pledge.”

” Thank you; so, now, I will tell you
that I came to you as the one to whom
I deem it just I should apply to, under
the circumstances, and of course you
will do right in this matter, as I am not
a rich man and cannot lose my money."

Norman gazed at the man as though
arguing in his own mind if it was not
best to call the butler and tell him his
visitor had gone mad. .

“Again, Mr. Bonnell, I ask you what ,
you mean, for certainly I do not under-
stand you? ”

“Then I will be more explicit, sir, for
I am anxious to be understood. '

“ The truth is, having your pledged
word not to betray me, I am a detec-
tive! "

“A detective? ” gasped Randolph Nor-
man. “I thought you were an author,
and a gentleman.”

“ An author I am, of certain police re-
ports and histories of cases never yet
compiled for publication. As to being a
detective and not a gentleman that is a
creed I do not acknowledge.”

“But why am I honored with a. call
from a gentleman detective? ”

“Well, sir, I received word one day
from my chief to report to a lady at a
hotel in the city. 'I did so, and found her
to be Mrs. Kathleen Norman, nee Car-
rol.” , 

It  ll 1"

“ So she gave me her name, sir, and
she desired me to begin work for her.

“I was to shadow a certain person
who was a member of the All Night
Club.

“I had the entree there already, but
I secured a membership and went to
work.

“The lady was not rich, she said, and
as my duties were not heavy, I made
easy terms with her. i,

“ I need not tell you that you were the
person to be shadowed, Doctor Norman,
and I received a note from her when-
ever you came to the city, and that set
me on your track.

“ I reported to her your doings while
in the city, and so kept her posted re-
garding you, but must admit, save your
heavy gambling, and a few other little
indiscretions, I had little to make known.

“ Now I had received from Miss Ran-
dolph, as she was known in this house,
three hundred dollars, leaving a balance
due me of six hundred dollars, and, as
she died so suddenly, and I believe left
no property for me to realize my
claim. I naturally come to you to settle
my bill.

“ Here it is, sir, with services rendered,
and amounts paid and due, so please
give me a check for it and oblige."

Randolph Norman was inwardly curs-
ing the man, but outwardly was calm '
and smiling, and he said almost pleas-
antly:

“ Live and learn, Bonnell, is certainly
a true adage, for I never suspected you
once of being a detective.

“ As to your bill I will pay it, and I
can now understand why Miss Randolph
set you to watch me.

“Confldentially we were engaged. She
was the widow of my brother Randolph,
and, hearing that I was a wild fellow,
she wished to know of my doings when
in the city.

“ Six hundred you say is the bill? ”

“ Yes, sir,” and the detectiVe was

if I receive your

 

slightly taken aback at the coolness of
,r/ ’  ’

 

 

h“

    
         
       
     
     
     
         
        
        
        
     

 

 

h‘

 

\

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

1'7

 

the man, whom he expected would ut- "

terly refuse the demand.

Norman again went to his safe and
counted out the money, handing it to the
detective, who receipted in full, and
then, for policy’s sake, was invited to
dinner.

When he departed from Glen Idle he
voted Doctor Dudley Norman a “ deuced
good fellow, but sly as a fox, and
wicked as a tiger if aroused,"

But this was his own opinion. and to
be kept to himself.

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
NORMAN VISITS THE CURE-ALI. HOSPITAL.
The night after the visit of Roger

- Bonnell the master of Glen Idle ascended

to the second floor apartments of his
ward and the governess.

There was no reason why he might not
have gone into their rooms by day, be-
ing the master there; but he seemed to
prefer to do so by night.

The visit of the detective had alarmed
him.

When he had returned to Glen Idle in
answer to the telegram from Violet call-
ing him home he had on that night
crept into Kathleen’s room and slipped
out of her desk a certain book which he
knew she possessed.

That book he had hidden away in the
folds of a portiere, so that, if its exist-
ence was known by Mrs. Carrol, and it
was demanded by her, it could be found
in the private apartment of the governess
by a thorough search, and where Kath-
leen, it would be inferred, had put it.

But it had not been missed, and now
Norman went upstairs after it.

He found it where it had been hidden.
and, as Mrs. Carrol had taken away with
her the things belonging to her daughter,
the chamber looked deserted and deso-
late.

Then he went into Violet’s chamber
and made a search, but found nothing
that seemed to occasion him anxiety; so,
with the book from Kathleen's desk, he
descended to his library.

It proved to be a large, well-bound
diary, and what he read there of happen-
ings the past few years, caused his face
to pale.

The volume had a lock clasp upon it,
and he had not the key, but it was
opened by a wire, with the skill of a
locksmith, as though he was not a novice
in look picking.

For several hours he looked over the
diary, and then muttered to himself:

“ This record would hang me, and I
must keep it from all eyes. I will now
put. it away until I can look over it
more carefully, and then destroy it.”

He arose and put the volume in his
safe and then returned to his easy chair
and his musings.

“ Yes, now go and see my brother, for
that task must be next disposed of. I
will start to-morrow," and on the mor-
row Glen Idle was closed, and its master
was on his way northward.

The Electric-Magnetic Cure-all Hospital
of Professor Antisane, M. D.——and with
still other letters after his name. which
might mean much, as well as very little
——was an institution for the perfect cure
of diseases of the brain.

The house had been rented as a
“ water cure,” for there were some valua-
ble springs on the place, and several
houses and cottages, with a large man-
.:;ion and a hundred acres of land.

The establishment was charmingly sit-
uated, the springs were really of medici-
nal value; and as the professor-doctor
lived well, had good horses, a splendid
orchard, and extensive gardens, the san-
itarium'was, apparently, one of good re-
pute.

The doctor invited certain prominent
physicians to rest themselves for a week
or so at his home, and nine out of ten
accepted, and the result was that they
Rated him a splendid host, his establish-
.ent a fine one in every particular, and

   

 

 

 

by their recommendations kept it filled
with patients willing to pay big prices.

It was there, as We have seen, that poor
Dudley Norman had been sent by the
great specialist. He had the best quar—
ters about the place, was attended by his
own nurse, Frederick Breton, was al-
lowed to fish, hunt, and enjoy himself
at will, with the use of the well-filled
library, and the fare was excellent.

He was improved in bodily health, and
yet, when he found that he was being
kept there against his will, he fretted
greatly.

He appealed to Dr. Antisane, but that
gentleman was sure that his patient was
insane—had a malady, in fact, that could
not be quickly cured.

All of this talk about himself, Dr. Anti-
sane knew, were his ravings, for he had
been “ posted” by the rich brother who
paid the bills so promptly, along with
numerous “ extras ” that were a necessity
at the Cure-all-Sanitarium.

When, therefore, “Doctor Dudley "
Norman drove up to the door of his Cure-
all establishment, Dr. Antisane recog-
nized him and met him with open arms.
so to speak, although the proprietor of
the institution feared that he had come
to take his brother away, and that meant
five hundred dollars a month off his in-
come!

“And how is my brother, sir? ” asked
Norman, as the doctor ushered him into
the most charming of rooms.

“Well in general health, but he frets
a great deal, and continually says he is
being wronged, for you know he sticks
to it that he is you, and that you, for
some reason, are playing a traitor’s part
to him.”

“ Poor fellow! How demented he is!
But I will have a talk with him, and if
you would advise that I take him
away—” .

“By no means, sir! Under no circum-
stances would I advise it, for he is just
beginning now to really improve in mind.
A few months more, say a year, and then
I feel sure, if his bodily health keep good,
he will be entirely cured.”

“ You are right, sir, I think, so I
shall leave him with you for yet awhile
at least.

“ Now I would like to see him.”

“ Certainly, sir,” and Dr. Antisane
led the way to the victim’s quarters.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
RANDOLPH VISITS THE VICTIMS.

In a large and comfortable sitting-
room at the corner of the second floor
in the stone mansion of Dr‘. Antisane’s
Cure-all establishment, sat Dudley Nor-
man, the victim of an utterly conscience—
less brother’s audacity and lust for gold.

The room was almost luxuriously fur-
nished, and commanded a view on two
sides, from four windows.

Across the windows was iron grating,-

which gave it the appearance of a jail
from without.

Up a fine valley the windows on one
side looked, and across rolling hills to a
range of mountains was the other view.

There were meadow lands, winding
stream, farm houses here and there, for-
ests and cultivated fields, all a very pret-
ty picture. /

Within the room was a piano, for the
“patient” was a skilled musician, a
bookcase well filled, a pair of foils and
boxing gloves, with backgammon board,
chess table and pack of cards.

Then there was an easel and an open
portfolio containing numerous sketches
of all kinds. '

Opening into the room on one side was
a bed chamber, handsomely fitted up, and
adjoining it was a smaller one.

Certainly no one could complain of a
lack of creature comforts who dwelt
there. -

Seated at the open window was the
victim.

He was a very handsome man, so strik-
ingly like his twin brother as to be read-

ily mistaken for him, but now a shadow-

 

rested upon his face, and there was a
worried, hunted look in his eyes.

A key turned in the door, and his at-
tendant entered, but he did not look
around as Frederick Breton came in.

Mr. Breton looked just as he had when
seen last in Buffalo—smooth-faced, smil-
ing, and sleek.

“Mr. Norman, you ’ave ha visitor.”

“Ah! a visitor—for me?” and the
"patient" started to his feet.

“Yes, sir; but, be calm, please, for hit
his wearing hupon the nerves to get hex-
cited.

“Hit takes hoff ten months from ha
life to git hinto ha temper, sir.”

“Who is my visitor? "

“Your brother, sir.”

“Of course. Who else could it be?
Show him in at once, if he has come to
take me away from this hell on earth.”

Mr. Breton smiled; be rather enjoyed
living in that “hell on earth,” as the
victim termed his very pleasant quar-
ters.

Mr. Breton retired, locked the door
after him, and soon after reopened it
and ushered in “ Doctor Dudley Nor-
man.” ‘

The door closed behind the visitor, and
the victim stepped quickly forward.

“ God bless you, Randolph, for com-
ing to me, and after me as I know you
have, for these accursed people here are
trying to convince me that I am insane."

“My dear Randolph, I came to see
you__n

“Randolph! Randolph! Why do you
call me Randolph, when you know I am
Dudley?”

The visitor shook his head sadly, and
said:

“ Ah, Randolph, I fear you are no bet-
ter than when you came here. I re-
mained away, hoping for your cure-"

“ My cure? Great God! Look at me.
I never was better in my life."

“ Bodily, yes; but, mentally, you have
been a great sufferer, my dear Ran-
dolph.”

“ There it is again—Randolph! You
know that I am Dudley, and that you are
Randolph. Why Vex me in this way? ”

Again the visitor shook his head.

“Well, we will not quarrel, brother
mine. I came to see you, and know just
how you are.”

“My God! I must be mad, indeed, if
you insist upon it that I am Randolph
and not Dudley Norman.

“Did I not study medicine and then
go West to settle and practice?

“Did I not go to the mines, and have
I not letters from you, signed Randolph,
and addressed to me? What mockery is
all this? What does it mean? ”

“ Show me those letters, brother.”

Dudley sprang to his desk, took out
several packages of letters and threw
them on the table.

Then he opened one, and said, ex—
citedly:

“ See there, at the date from our old
home in Maryland! This letter asks me
for money, and I sent a draft for five
hundred, and the signature, you see, is—
God in Heaven! it is Dudley! "

He dropped the letter and fell back in
his chair. white as a corpse.

His brother took up the letter and
glanced over it.

“This letter is, as you say, written
from our old home in Maryland, but
sends you a draft for five hundred, and
is signed by me, Dudley Norman, while
you see it is addressed to you, and here is
the postmark on the envelope.”

Randolph Norman was not a man to
do things by halves. Every letter of his
brother’s. every paper, and all bearing
the name of Dudley Norman. had been
taken by him and duplicated, with a
change of names.

The postmark had been forged, even, '
and then the trunk, containing all, and

which had gone astray on reaching Bufe ~ '

falo, had been returned to the victim,
as though just found.  #

Dr. Antisane and Breton had seen-531!
this, and had no doubt of the insanity“

 

  
   

 
 
 
 
  
   
 

18

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

the patient when he claimed to be Dr.
Dudley Norman.

The doctor and the nurse made it a;
rule, a business, in fact, to know all
about a patient, get the knowledge as
they might.

White and quivering, the victim lay
back in his chair, while his lips parted
with the words:

“ God of Heaven, pity me! I am mad! ”

It was too painful, even for the iron
nerves of Randolph Norman to remain
long with the man whose life he had
wrecked, and against whom he was plot-
ting still more deeply, so he soon took
his departure, and finding that he could
catch a night train out of the town, he
departed, having asked Frederick Bre-
ton quietly, to get a few days’ leave and I
run down to see him at Glen Idle, but to
say nothing about his destination to any
one.

Then “Doctor Dudley” Norman vis-
ited Walter Vernon, at his asylum, and
remained a couple of days, telling him
of the death of the governess and that
Violet was visiting Mrs. Carrol in Vir-
ginia.

And did not the conscience of the plot-
ter smite him when, in bidding farewell
to Mr. Vernon he heard the words:

“You are a noble man, Dudley Nor-
man, and God bless you! ”

CHAPTER XXVIII.

MR. BRETON'S BARGAIN WITH SATAN.

Mr. Frederick Breton was a man of his
word. He had promised Randolph Nor—
man that he would visit him at Glen
Idle, and so he decided that he needed
a week’s leave of absence.

Dr. Antisane had found Mr. Breton a
very valuable man. He knew a good
nurse when he saw one, and the victim’s
attendant was just the man for the
place.

Over a little gin and water they had
talked together many an evening, and
thus had become quite chummy.

The nurse told Dr. Antisane that he
needed a week’s recreation, and would
run off, with his permission, of course, to
see a brother who lived in New York.

The complaisant doctor consented, so
another attendant was put in the place
of Breton to look after Doctor Norman,
who had become very moody and sad
since the visit of his brother.

Mr. Frederick Breton felt that there
was something more than the ordinary
in this visit to the wealthy gentleman of
Glen Idle.

He got his expenses and a hundred dol-
lars a. month, not to speak of an occa-
sional fee, and as he was a man who
believed in saving his money, he had
laid up quite a handsome sum for a
“ rainy day.”

It Was in the afternoon when he ar-
rived at Glen Idle, and he was fairly
stunned at the beauty and magnificence
of the place.

“ So like Hold Hengland! Why, hit’s
ha place equal to ha lord’s hestate, hit
his.”

Mr. Breton was a Cockney, pure and
simple, but looked like a gentleman from
a. country town.

The butler at Glen Idle was a French-
man, so did not note the peculiarity in
Mr. Breton’s conversation.

“His this Glen Idle?” he asked.

“ Yes, monsieur.”

“ Hand his the master hat ’ome? ”

" Yes, monsieur; your card, please,
zair, and vill you valk into ze antecham-
ber? ”

Now, Mr. Breton had no card; that was
a luxury he could well do without, so
he had never indulged in the extrava-
gance, having no one to call upon.

“Say that Mr. Frederick Breton, of
Hengland, ’as called hon ’im.”

Mr. Breton gazed around him admir-
ingly until the butler returned and ush-
ered him into the library. ’

There sat the master of Glen Idle, and
he arose and greeted his visitor cor-

 

 dially.
" - “Ah, Breton, so you' have arrived.

Glad to see you, and hope you left my
brother improving? ”

“I ’ave harrived, sir, hand ham glad
that you hare glad to see me, Dr. Nor-
man; but, Hi left your brother not has
’appy has ’e might be.”

“I am sorry. But be seated, for I
want to have a talk with you.”

Mr. Breton sat down, and at the call
of the master a servant brought a silver
salver with wines and liquors, and was
told that the gentleman would remain
until the next day.

Mr. Breton felt flattered, and was cor—
respondingly condescending to the man
who showed him to his room.

At dinner he behaved better than his
host had expected.

The truth was, Mr. Breton had an-
swered to the name of “Fred ” as waiter
in a millionaire’s family in Melbourne,
and he had learned, from observation,
how a gentleman should cenduct him-
self at table.

So the dinner passed off well, and Mr.
Breton scored a point.

He was in ecstasies over the splendid
service and the wines, saw everything
that was elegant about the grand es—
tablishment, and said to himself:

“ What he wants hof me ’e must pay
well for.”

That evening, when the two sat alone
in the library, Norman began to hint at
the reason he had for desiring a visit
from Mr. Breton.

“Breton,” he said, after having dis-
cussed his brother’s case for some little
time, “it pains me deeply to see my
poor brother in the condition he is, and
were I in his place I would wish to die.”

“So would Hi, sir.”

“Congress should pass a law making
it just for a physician to put out of their
misery hopelessly insane people, and all
terribly deformed children, at their birth,
as well as idiots and those with incura-
ble diseases, where it is only torture for
them to live.”

“ Right you hare, sir! The Hamerican
Parlimint should do this.”

“ It would be a great mercy to suffer~ l
ers, and I feel that it would be just, and ,
so physicians should be allowed the right i
to take life under the circumstances.”

“ Yes, sir.”

“I would not scruple in such cases,
and I would feel that I was merciful to
a sufferer.”

“Has Hi would, sir.”

“I am glad to hear you say this, for
I feel so sorry for my poor brother that
could I find one who would be thus mer-
ciful to him, and, by degrees, end his
misery, I would willingly pay him five
thousand dollars to see him out of all his
sufferings, which give me such incessant
distress of mind.”

“Oh, Lord!” ejaculated Mr. Breton.
“ Five thousand dollars? ”

“ Yes, I would give that sum.

“Of course I would not wish him to
die suddenly, nor to be given any vio-
lent medicine to cause him pain; but a
man like you, say, should know the use
of medicines well enough to give doses
that would gradually break down
strength and in the end cause death as
peaceful as though going to sleep.

“Were you willing to do this I would
pay one thousand now, say, and one
thousand each month for four months,
by which time he would be free from his
sufferings, and I relieved of all this dis-
tress of mind.

“ What do you say, Breton, to thus sav-
ing him from a prolonged life of wretch-
edness and sorrow?”

“ I think it would be merciful, sir, and
I’d undertake it.”

By this Mr. Frederick Breton com~
mitted himself, and after half an hour’s
longer conversation, he retired to his
luxuriously furnished room for the night.

And more, he had a soother for any
compunctions of conscience he might
have for the pledge he was under, in a
roll of crisp bank notes that he took to
bed with him for fear that he might

 

1

CHAPTER XXIX.
A YOUNG HERO.

Rose Hill, the home of the Widow
Carrol, was an attractive place.

It was located upon a rise in a valley,
with the brook in front, the meadows
and fields on either side, and the forest.
and hills in the rear.

Across the valley a mile were the
mountains, and so a grand view was
obtainable from the little porch.

The house had been improved, the out-
buildings and fences put in good trim, so
that, altogether, with its wealth of flow—
ers around it, its location and cozy corn—
forts, Rose Hill was a charming resi-
dence.

Two miles and a half distant up the
valley, the spire of the village church
was visible, and down the valley half a.
mile was a settlement and a school-
house, and there it was that Kathleen
had been the teacher.

0n the hillside, as one neared the vil-
lage, was an old church, built before
Revolutionary days, it was said, and
about it were a number of ancient tomb-
stones.

And here was the burying ground of
the Carrols for several generations.

Mrs. Carrol had felt embittered by the
gossip of some of her neighbors, when
Kathleen had gone away with Randolph
Norman, and was anxious to show them
that she was not the poor widow they
had assumed her to be.

The order she held for a monument to
her husband and children, she was deter-
mined to have erected at once, and so,
on their way from Virginia, she and
Violet had stopped off at Baltimore to
see the marble cutter regarding it.

Together the widow and young girl
selected a shaft, and a very handsome
one it was, and the names of the dead
were given, a name to each side, the
fourth being reserved for herself, Mrs.
Carrol sai with a sad smile.

The mo ument and its massive base
and iron fence were to be shipped soon,
with men to put them up; then the‘
widow and her beautiful young guestl
went on their way to Rose Hill.

The barouche and horses had arrived,
and had been placed in the charge of

lold Denver, the husband of Phillis, and

Violet expressed herself delighted with
everything in and about the place.

On her pony, when Mrs. Carrol was
busy with household duties in the morn-
ing, Violet was wont to ride about the
country, going miles away from the farm
and always alone, for she had no fear.

Her horse was a spirited, small wiry
animal, but he knew his fair rider per-
fectly, and though a trifle vicious toward
others, followed her like a dog, and if
she dismounted to gather wild flowers,
he would never leave her, but keep near
by, hovering in the woods, or along the
road side, as the case might be.

The neighbors had ventured in to see
the widow upon her return, many of
them from idle curiosity to learn the
facts of Kathleen’s drowning, and to
gratify their morbid tastes for gossip,
and a few from interest and sympathy,
for they remembered how Mrs. Carrol
had lost husband, son and daughter, and
was alone in the world.

Then Violet’s coming created a great
sensation. Who was the beautiful child,
and what was she to Mrs. Carrol.

As the widow had not taken the neigh—
bors into her confidence about her and 1
her children’s affairs, they knew nothing-
of Violet Vernon.

They beheld a wonderfully beautiful
girl in her fourteenth year, dressed with
taste, yet very richly, and the owner of a
thoroughbred horse, a costly riding hab—
it, gold-headed whip and watch and
chain, for these were quickly inventoried
, by the curious neighbors.
| The new barouche and a fine horse,
with stylish harness, was also noted,
along with the fact that Miss Violet
Vernon had brought several trunks with
her.

 

awaken in the morning to find his good
fortune but a dream!

The “ improvements " in the grave—'

 
 

 
   

 

  

 

 

yard were also observed, and
seen that arrangements were being made
for the erection of a monument abovei
the ordinary. }

What all this meant the neighbors}
were curious to know; but the widow;
was sad-faced and silent, and Denver!
and Phillis knew nothing when ques-i
tioned. '

As for Violet, there was something'
about her, girl though she was, that for-
bade idle questioning, even from the
most hardened old gossip-fiend of the
community.

One day while out riding she saw a
dove coming swiftly toward her, then
came the sharp report of a gun from the
hillside and the bird dropped into her

lap.
She was startled for a moment, but]
reining in “Doctor,” which she had;

named after her guardian, she caught1
the dove, which she saw Was only
wounded, and just then the sportsman
came in sight. He was mounted upon a
shaggy pony, and had fired from his sad-
die.

He was a youth of seventeen, well-
formed and with a bold, handsome face,
with dark eyes full of expression and
waving hair falling upon his shoulders.

He wore a homespun suit, with home-
made leggings of red leather, and his
jacket was of sporting cut, while his cap
sat jauntily upon the side of his head.

“I beg pardon, miss, if I alarmed you,
but did not see you until after I fired,”
he said as he halted and raised his cap.

“ You startled Doctor more than you
did me; but see, this poor dove is wound-
ed, and it fell in my lap.”

“It was reckless in me to fire across
the road, and I am taught a lesson, for
I might have harmed you, miss. But, the
dove belongs to you. Maybe I can set his
wing and he will live.”

He took the dove from her hand as he
spoke, while she said: “Oh, if it only
would live, and 1 could have it! ”

“Yes, its wing is broken, and I can
soon have it well for you. Where shall I
bring it, please?”

“To Rose Hill, Mrs. Carrol’s farm, if
you know where that is? ”

“Oh, yes; for I used to go to school to
poor, dear Miss Kathleen. I thought you
were the beautiful girl they said Mrs.
Carrol had brought home with her.”

Violet‘s face, saddened at reference to
Kathleen. flushed at the frank compli-
ment which she saw had been uttered
without thought, and asked quickly to
hide her blushes:

“ So you knew Miss Carroll? "

“ Ah, yes, miss, and I loved her dearly,
and often brought her home in wet
weather behind me on my pony."

“ You are Duke Sanford, then?" and
Violet eyed the youth with interest.

“Yes, miss; but, how did you know
that? "

“ Miss Carrol often told me of you, and
how she had ridden home behind you
on your pony; one day, she said a tramp
came to the schoolhouse, the day she
had received her quarter’s salary; all the
children had gone. The rufl‘ian robbed
her of her money and her watch and
chain, but you had seen the man hang-
ing about; you returned, and, having
brought your shot gun to school with
you. told him to surrender. But he at-
tacked you with his knife and you killed
him. It must be awful to kill any one.”

“ It certainly is, miss, and I never go by
the tramps grave if I can help doing
so. But, I must not detain you, and I’ll
bring the dove when it gets well,” and
Duke Sanford raised his cap again and
rode back into the woods, while Violet
returned to Rose Hill, quite impressed by
her adventure.

When she arrived at Rose Hill, Mrs.
Carrol was in tears, and handed her a
dispatch sent over to her from the town,
some dozen miles away, for there was
no office at the village.

The dispatch read:

: Idle, 

 

“ The body has been found. Have sent

 5

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

, i
it was

it to the town by Express. Have wagon
there to meet it. Have written fully.
“ Dudley Norman.”

 

CHAPTER XXX.
CAST L'P By Tim SEA.
When Mr. Frederick Breton left Glen
was with a full understanding
that he was to be guilty of an “act of
mercy.”

Under the circumstances he argued
with Doctor Dudley Norman that it was
far be. er for a human sufferer, who
could never hope for health and happi-
ness. to Llid rest in the grave and joy
in Heaven. than to linger on earth in
misery.

Then Mr. Breton had been assured of
another position, after his patient died,
to look after another invalid who was
a great sufferer and would be far better
off to be at rest in the tomb.

And should his second patient also go
the way of all flesh, in spite of his
nurse‘s de'Ioted services, then Mr. Bre-
ton might try his hand as confidential
valet to the master of Glen Idle.

Mr. Breton had seemed pleased at the
prospect; but, at heart, he refused the
honor of some time being valet, though
his lips accepted the service.

With Mr. Breton’s departure, Doctor
Norman’s spirits rose. He saw matters
shaping themselves to his advantage,
and he was content.

For a long while he had not appeared
so serene, and almost cheerful, the but—
ler thought.

But, one day another visitor dropped
in to call on the master.

The master had no visitors from the
neighboring gentry. but somehow he had
been called upon considerably of late by
outsiders. There were the Sea Gypsies’
Queen, then Soto, next Mr. Roger Bon-
nell. and he was followed by Mr. Breton,
who. in turn, was followed by the visitor
who had found the doctor not in.

“Haint he in, Mate?” asked this last
caller. in not very elegant language.

“No. he vas out,” replied the butler,
Pierre.

“ When will he come back?”

“ Soon: he’s vas gone fer a drive.”

“ All right. When he comes, tell him
Skipper Lute Bowles, of the Sloop Rocka-
way, has been here, and that my craft
lies off there at anchor, so to come down
and hail and I'll come ashore in a boat
for him.”

Captain Lute Bowles was a sailor, and
he looked it. He hailed from Jersey, and
his trading voyages were from Barnegat
Bay. New York and Philadelphia, and
his cargoes were anything that he could
get.

His message was repeated to Doctor
Norman upon his‘return, and the gentle-
man did not appear pleased. '

He asked the butler many questions
about his visitor, and then, afraid to neg-
lect the request, strolled on down toward
the shore.

There lay the Rockaway, true to her
name, rocking upon the tiny waves of
the river. which a fair breeze was send-
ing ashore, and breaking in a miniature
surf.

The sloop was a stiff craft, a good sail-
er, but by no means yacht-like in design
or beauty.

Upon her deck was seen the skipper
and a youth of .eighteen. The former
sprang into a boat when he saw the mas-
ter of G‘en Idle and rowed ashore.

The guilty conscience of Norman
made him both curious and anxious.

There would be no perfect rest for him,
he thought, until his brother, Mr. Ver-
non and Mr. Breton were six feet under
ground.

With Bennett Carrol and Kathleen
dead. and three yet to die, it would re-
quire just five graves in the world to
insure the perfect happiness of “ Lord
Lucifer,” as the neighbors had begun to
call the master of Glen Idle.

 

   
    
  
   
  
 
   
 
   
    
   
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
  
   
    
   
    
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
   
   
   
 
 
  
   
  
  
    
    
   
  
   
   
   
 
    
   
   
  
   
  
  
   
   
 
 
  
 

M19

Norman eyed the sailor suspiciously
as he ran his boat ashore, and asked:

“ Are you the man who called at my
mansion to see me? ”

“I are, Captain Lute Bowles, of the
sloop Rockaway, of Barnegat, at your
service, sir,” and the sailor, having once
served in the navy. made a salute.

“Well, Captain Lute Bowles, of the
sloop Rockaway, what is your business
with me?” and there was something of
a sneer in the query.

“ You be Doctor Norman of Glen Idle
home? ”

“ Yes.”

“I has that for you, then, that you
wants.”

“What is it? ”

" A corpse.”

Norman started in spite of himself and
turned pale.

“A corpse?” he huskily asked.

“ Yes, and one you must prize high, as
you offers for it more than any farm and
the Rockaway together is worth.”

“What is it? ”

“ I has got her."

“ Got who? ” ‘

“The dead lady.”

Norman choked back his emotion.

He knew that the sailor had found a
body. Was it Kathleen’s? If so, the Sea
Gypsies had deceived him!

He mastered himself with an effort
and said:

“My good man, tell me just what you
have? ”

“A lady got drowned from here didn’t
she, a week ago? ”

“Yes.”

“You advertised for her, didn’t yer?”

“ I did.”

“ Five thousand for the floater."

“ The what? ”

“ We calls ’em floaters arter they 'rises
from the bottom.” , »

“Well?”

“ I has found ther floater.”

“ Where? ” ,

“On the Jersey coast nigh Barnegat.”

“When did you find the body? ”

“ Yesterday morning, when we was
coming out, me and my son. Matt, that’s
him on ther sloop and he are my mate,
crew and all.”

“Yes?”

“ Waal, we seen ther body on ther sand
on the beach, put in arter it with the
skiff, and I says, says I:

“Matt, this are ther floater as is ad-
vertised for in ther New York papers,
and my wife read it to me. So we puts
ther deader—”

“What?”

“ The deader, or floater, for we calls
’em both names, inter ther fore hold 0’
ther sloop and sailed up here ter find
you and fetch it back, and tho’ we'd
a done it without ther reward, still, as it
were offered, I guesses yer’ll pay it, for
yer look rich as Croesus, wife has read
ter me about in the book."

Norman was in a quandary. He had
paid the Gypsy for the finding of the
body, and now here was another demand
upon him.

Had the Gypsy really found the body
of Kathleen?

Yes, it must have been so, as he had
asked him to come and see it; and Soto
had known Kathleen by sight.

Then this man must have another
body, that of some unknown woman he
had found floating about.

“ My man, the body of the lady I of-

 

fered a reward for had certain distin- .

guishing marks about her clothes and—"

“ It’s not easy, sir, to recognize a body
as has been in the water so long; but I
remember the description, and the dress,
hair and ring answers exactly, and here
are ther ring I tuk off the‘ weddin’ fin-
ger. and ther body bed a rope about it,
with loops as if weights hed been hung
on and had slipped out, so as to simply
show she hed been drowned on purpose.”

“ My God! ” muttered Norman.

 

sunk the body, but it had been bulw-

,I‘ ,fl.‘ .
.41

 

 

His- * ,
thought was that the Sea Gypsies had 

   
   
  
   
    
 
  
 
   
 

l

' 1" fund

20

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

lingly done, and it had risen and washed
ashore.

“I guesses the murderers forgotted
this ring,” continued the man as he felt
in his pocket and drew forth a ring, a
wide marriage gold band, which he
knew but too well.

Had he been in doubt the engraving
within would have dispelled it:

“R. N. to Kathleen”
was what was engraved in the ring, and
it was the one he had placed upon her
finger when the, as he had believed,
mock marriage was performed. She had
.svorn it ever since.

Then it occurred to him what no one
had thought of before: that she had her
watch and chain and earrings on when
drowned. These the prsy had not re-
turned. So he said:

“But the body had on a watch and
chain and earrings?”

“ They were gone, sir; guess the mur-
derers got them, and forgot the ring,”
was the reply of Skipper Bowles.

CHAPTER XXXI.
HUSH MONEY.

Randolph Norman was deeply moved
as he stood there on the shore, holding
the ring in his hand—the little circlet
of gold with which he sought 'to betray
Kathleen Carrol, the woman who had
saved his life.

It seemed to him, as he stood there,
that he could never down the past—that
grim spectres of his evil deeds would
continually rise before him.

He had believed Kathleen really
lost in the squall, and suddenly the Queen
of the Sea Gypsies appeared before him,
claiming that he had done the work he
had paid her to do.

He had thought Kathleen’s body at
rest beneath the sea, and up comes Soto,
the Gypsy, to claim the reward for it.

Then the body must again appear,
wearing her marriage ring, and with
evidence upon it that she had been load-
ed down with weights, as though to prove
that she had been murdered—not lost.

What a sensation this for the news-
papers! And how could it all be ex-
plained away?

There was but one course to pursue,
and that was to draw again upon his
gold reserVe and pay the reward.

If he did this he would make a, friend i

of Captain Lute Bowles, and he would
help him out. So he said:

“ My dear sir, this is a very sad mat-
ter to me and to others. The mother
of this poor lady’s body, whom this ring
shows that you have found, is very' ill,
and if the body was now taken to her it
would cause her death, so I wish you to
help me in the matter, to keep it out of
the newspapers. I will pay you your re-
ward at once, and all other expenses
you may have to incur, but I wish you
and your son to say nothing of the affair.
Can I rely upon you both? ”

“ You kin, for you shows y'er is squar
by payin’ ther reward, and Matt and me
can keep our mouths as shot as oys-
ters when thar is need ter be, and we’ll
say nothin' to ther old lady about it,
bein’ as wimmen folk is cur’ris about

ther tongues; they will talk onless it are ‘

about themselves.”

“ Well, you remain at anchor where
you are, and after dark come ashore here
for me, for I will have to go and get you
the money.

“ Then drop down the river to the foot
of Forty-second Street, and I’ll join you
there during the night, and have a coffin
taken on board for the body, and will
then send it away by train to Virginia,
where the lady lived.

“ For your extra time, I will give you
a hundred dollars, but, for the sake of
the poor dead lady’s mother, I wish no
public affair of it, which a coroner’s jury

 would occasion.”

"*‘fI'll be mum, sir, and so will Matt,
I thank you,” replied the skipper,
hdid not guess at the depths of wick—

!

edness in the heart of the man he be-i

lieved s0 noble and generous.

Back to his splendid home walked
" Lord Lucifer,” to sit down alone to his
sumptuous dinner, while the shadow of
death was not a quarter of a mile away,
and the little sloop held a secret the
world would have given much to know.

While enjoying his cigar in his library,

the twilight crept over land and water,
and Pierre came in to light the lamps.

Soon after he arose, opened his safe,
counted out from his diminishing funds
the money for the skipper.

Had he dared, he would have attempted
to bribe the skipper to cast the body
back into the sea.

But, he thought he saw in the weather—
beaten face an honesty that warned him
not to make the effort.

No, the body must be sent home to
Virginia, he knew, and then all that
could be said, if known, would be that he
had to avoid publicity, not reported to
the coroner its being found.

So down to the shore, he went. The
skipper was there and rowed him out to
the boat. \

In the forward hold was the body, the
hatch off, and, by the aid of a lantern, he
saw the body laid out on a board, the
long hair and the face covered with a
towel.

“ It hain’t fit to be seen, sir,” said the
skipper.

“For God’s sake don’t uncover it!"
he cried, in a tone of horror, and added
calmly:

“I recognize the hair, her dress; yet
the ring alone is conclusive proof.”

He shrunk back, and entering the
cabin, counted out the amount of the
reward. Which done he gave the skip-
per further directions, and returning
ashore. went back to the mansion, and,
half an hour after, drove to the station
to catch the train to the city.

With gold a man can do much, and
by paying liberally, and telling his own
story to an undertaker about the sor-
rowing mother, Randolph Norman got
a metallic case sent on board the sloop;
and with it packed securely, the Rocka-
way landed on the Jersey side.

The body was there borne to the ex-
press oflice and forwarded to the old
home in Virginia.

A telegram was then sent to Mrs. Car-
rol. a letter written at the Hotel in Jer-
sey City, and dispatched, and the work
of Randolph Norman was done, as far
as his dead wife Kathleen was concerned;
at least he so believed.

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE TRAMP’S GRAVE.

It was a sad satisfaction to Mrs. Car-
rol. and also to Violet, to feel that Kath-
leen was to at last find a resting place
on earth. and not to be at the bottom of
the sea.

“I will feel better, so much better
now!” said the mother. ‘

“Yes, auntie, and so will I, for I will
dearly love to go with flowers to her
grave.”

“ How noble that man is. You have a
guardian, Violet, to love and be proud
of,” said Mrs. Carrol, and she added to
herself:

"And to think how poor Kathleen and
I misjudged him, and made him suffer
for his wicked brother’s sins. But then,
if he is insane, I should not judge him
rashly, for he did not know what he was
doing.”

That afternoon Violet took a walk and
alone. She wandered down through the
meadows by a path she had never gone
before.

t It brought her out half a mile from
Rose Hill. in a little vale, and on the
bank grew a large tree.

She stopped with an air of reverence, as

 

she beheld beneath it a grave. It was
grass-grown. and at its head was a white
. wood cross. ,

/

 

 

Approaching it, Violet saw, most skill—
fully cut into the arm of the cross, and
in neat Roman letters, the words:

“ UNFORTUNATE AND UNKNOWN.
Killed Oct. 15th, 18—.”

This was all, but it told a pathetic
story.

Some one, unfortunate and unknown,
lay there beneath the sod, and some one
with a kind heart had erected the little
cross above the grave, and cut the sim-
ple inscription into the wood.

Upon the cross hung a battered tin—
cup, a long-bladed clasp knife, and a
small ivory crucifix hung upon a brass
neck-chain. These were all, and they

.told of the belongings of the dead.

For some time they had evidently hung
there, and yet no one had removed them,
no impious hand had dared disturb them
from above the dead.

There was no farm house nearer than
a quarter of a mile, Violet thought, and
so with a sigh for the “unfortunate and
unknown,” in the lonely grave, she
walked on toward the highway, which
she knew ran not far distant.

As she reached it, she saw a little white
school house not far away, and beyond
a small settlement.

“ It is poor Miss Carrol’s school house,"
she said. as she recognized it, for Mrs.
Carrol had showu it to her in their
drives.

Then she took the road back to Rose
Hill. and as she did so met an urchin
truding along toward the little settle-
ment.

“Whose grave is that up the vale, lit—
tle boy?” she asked, seeking informa-
tion from the freckle-faced lad.

“Lor’ yer musn’t go there, ’cause its
hanted.”

"' The grave? ”

“ Yes, it’s the place where they buried
him.”

“ Him? What him? ”

“ Why, don’t you know? me tramp as
big Duke Sanford kilt, when he robbed
Miss Ca'rl, our teacher. He’s a brave
boy, Duke is, and hain’t afraid o' hants
or nothin’.”

“ And that is the tramp’s grave? " said
Violet, thoughtfully, speaking to herself
rather than to the boy.

“ Yes it is.”

“ They did not know who he was? ”

“ No, indeedy, fer he hadn’t nothin’ to
tell. and Duke shot him stone dead.”

“And wno had him buried?" the girl
asked.

“ Duke did.”

“ And did he put that cross there? "

“He did. did Duke, and he cut the
writin’ on it, too. and hung up ther
tramp’s fixin’s on it, and said he’d lick
any gerloot as tuk ’em off; but Lor’! no— ,
body wants ter go thar, cause hants is
seen thar at night, and tramps’ graves is
allus hanted. folks says.”

Violet smiled, and feeling in her
pocket found a half dollar, which she
gave to the boy, thereby almost paralyz-
ing him, for. as far as she could see
him, he was standing where she had
left him, gazing after her as though he
thought she might be a “ hant.”

CHAPTER XXXIII.
AT REST.

When Violet Vernon returned from
her walk, which had led her by accident
to the Tramp’s Grave, she found that
old Denver had returned from the village
with the mail.

Mrs. Carrol was reading a letter from
the marble cutters in Baltimore, telling
her to expect their men in a couple of
days to put up the monument.

As a graVe now had to be dug for poor
Kathleen’s remains, Mrs. Carrol drove
over to the village the next day to see
the sexton and also to mark the spot
for the base of the monument over the.

‘ bodies of her dead.

, \N  .r
.J. \ ' .. Muir-H

 

74

 

 

 

Other of her kindred were buried there,
but the new monument would not inter—
fere with the other t( mbstones.

Mrs. Carrol also called upon the worthy
old clergyman, a man whose hair had
whitened in the service of the members
of his little church, and asked him to
perform the last rites over her daughter.

“From the church you will bury, her,
my dear madam?” he asked.

“No, .we will go to the town, Violet
and I, and accompany the body to the
burying ground. There meet us, please,
for I care not for a crowd. No, no; let
us bury our loved one without show.”

Driving to the Post Office, the after-
noon mail had just arrived, and a letter
came from Randolph Norman.

It was not opened until they reached
home. Then Mrs. Carrol read aloud
what had been written from the hotel in
Jersey City:

“ My Dear Mrs. Carrol:

“ My telegram informed you of the
finding of the body of your loved daugh-
ter. I have just sent by Express, seeing
it placed on the train, the metallic casket
containing the remains.

‘I was called upon yesterday at Glen
Idle, by the skipper of a coasting craft,
who informed me that he had on board
the body of a young lady fod'hd upbn the
beach at Barnegat.

“I viewed the body in the hold of his
vessel, and recognized the dress which
I had often seen her wear, and took from
her finger her wedding ring, which I will
send to you, and this is proof positive

v that there is no mistake as to the identity
10f the remains.

“ I also cut for you a lock of her hair,
as further proof, and because I believe

. you will be glad to have such memento
.of your loved one, and I know that the
casket cannot possibly be opened after
‘being closed.
1 “ Bettie, the upstairs girl, whom you
,remember, tells me that your daughter
.had on her watch and chain, and ear-
'rings the day she lost her life; but if
.so, they were lost, or perhaps taken,
though I believe the skipper who found
the body to be an honest man.

“Of course I paid to him the amount
of the reward I offered, and I assure
~ you, my esteemed friend, it was a pleas-
ure for me to do so, and I trust you will
so consider it, while, as I am rich in this

‘world’s goods, I trust you will com-
!mand me in any way in which I can serve
iyou.
I “I only wish I felt able to come to
‘you for the burial, but I cannot do so,
.yet hope to visit Rose Hill before very
~long, when I come to bring back with
. me my sweet maid Violet.

“I have a notion, when Violet is a
year older, of placing her at boarding
.school, where she can receive every ad-
.vantage, and then closing Glen Idle, I
‘will go to Europe for a few years, until
she is ready to make her debut as an
heiress, and belle, which latter I am
sure she will be.

« " My best love to her, please, and say
' that I will write to her soon.

! “With a heart full of sympathy for
‘you in your sorrow, believe me,

‘ “Yours very sincerely,

‘ “ Dudley Norman.”

Such was the letter, and its kind words
brought tears of gratitude to the eyes of
the poor widow, while Violet said:

“ Gardy is a good man; but sometimes

' I wish he was a little different from
~what he is.”

The next day Denver drove Mrs. Carrol

‘ and Violet to the town to meet the body
of Kathleen, old Phillis accompanying
them.

The hearse was there to meet the
train, and with its single carriage follow-
ing, took up its slow drive of a dozen
miles to the village burying-ground.

, The white-haired clergyman sat alone
upon his little piazza and saw the hearse
coming far down the road. I

,, He we. went to the‘church, put on

 

them. at the gate.

  
 

T113, gambitGuardian’s .Doubleflesla

along with the sexton and his men.

As the little cortege moved from the
hearse to the grave, the four workmen
bearing the casket, the clergyman, the
mother, and Violet, followed by old Den-
ver and Phillis, a person glided out from
the shadow of the church and approached
with uncovered head, while in his arms
he bore a huge bunch of wild flowers.

When the last words were said, and
the mound had been made into a grave,
this person stepped forward, and bend-
ing over, placed the wild flowers upon
the grave.

“God bless you, Duke Sanford, for
this act. You loved her, too,” cried the
widow, and her tears flowed afresh,
while silently the youth stole away.

And soon after the others followed,
leaving the dead at rest.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
DUKE SANFORD. .

There was surprise in the community
in which Mrs. Carrol dwelt, and more
gossip.

The people could not at first under-
stand the quiet funeral: but hints soon
went out, perhaps from a word dropped
from the honest parson, that, as poor
Kathleen had been basely slandered in
the past, the mother saw no need of
asking the slanderers to come and mourn
for her.

“ No pail-bearers, only the widow, that
young girl visiting her, and Duke San-
ford—why, the workmen at the burying
ground took the casket from the hearse
to the grave!” was what the oracle at
the village tavern said, as the affair was
talked over.

The inmates of Rose Hill Farm had
certainly given the people in its vicinity
food for talk the past two years, for from
the coming to the village tavern of Ran-
dolph Norman to the putting up of the
grand monument in the Carrol plot, there
had been something for them to gossip
about

Then, soon after the funeral of Kath-
leen, came this grand monument, upon
a huge log-bearing wagon, and the hand-
some fence followed.

The tall, snowy shaft was seen from
the village, and from farms up and down
the valley for miles.

And more, over the brow of the hill it
was visible from the piazza and sitting-
room windows of Rose Hill Cottage.

The men did their work well; the iron
fence was put in place and painted, and
the villagers were proud of the addi-
tion to their little cemetery.

One afternoon Violet~went there alone,
and walked, carrying with her a large
bunch of flowers, to place in the urn at
the base of the tomb;

There she found a bunch of wild fiow-
ers, fresh and evidently placed there but
a short while before.

She knew who it was had put them
there, for Mrs. Carrol had told her how
the wild flowers laid on the grave the
day of the funeral by Duke Sanford had
been her daughter's favorites, as her
old pupil had known, for often had he
carried bouquets to school for her.

“ And who is he, auntie? ” asked Violet.

“His mother lives on a farm down
the valley, some two miles from here.
She comes from some of the oldest blood
in Virginia. They are well to do. Duke
is to go into the army, I hear, for he is
striving to get a cadetship at West Point.

“He is a splendid boy, and I wish
him well, for my child thought so much
of him, and he really. seemed to love
her.”

It was getting along toward twilight
when Violet hastened home, and she was
beginning to get a little anxious, for
she had not intended to stay so late, so
she was glad to see a horseman coming
along behind her at a gallop.

She recognized Duke in an instant, and
drawing rein, the boy sprung from his
lpony, and leaving him to follow, joined

er. -

Dofling his cap with one hand. she saw

 

 

  

   
   
  
   
  
   
  
    
   
   
   
   
  
   
     
  
   
  
   
  
    
    
  
    
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
 
   
    
  
   
 
 
 
 
    
 
  
    
 
   
 
 
   
 
   
 
  
 
   
   
 
 
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
   
 

21

 

that he held something in the other, and
he said:

“ I came after you, miss, to bring you
the dove, for its wing I set, and it’s about
well now, and it's yours, you know."

“ Oh, how kind of you, and to think you
were in earnest about giving it to me!” ..

“Oh, yes, for it went right into your .-"
lap when wounded, you know; but it’s
getting quite tame.”

“ So it seems; but will you take it out
of the cage for me—”

“The cage is yours, too, miss, for I
made it for you, if you will accept it .‘
with the dove? ” 

“You are so good to me; but, what a “
beautiful cage, and so well made—how
ingenious you are, Mister—Mister—”

” Call me Duke, please, miss."

"I will if you wish it; but we have 
never been introduced, and yet I seem to '
know you so well, for Miss Carrol spoke
of you to me, as I told you, and Mrs.
Carrol, too.”

“ Did you ask her about me? ” he eager-
ly queried, as though delighted at the
idea. that she might have done so.

“ Oh, yes; but, will you not go on home
with me, Mister—Duke, I mean—for it
is getting dark, and I really am a little
afraid of those dark woods, you know,
where—”

She stopped, for she was about to say:
“Where the tramp’s grave is,” for the
way she had taken would lead her near it.

“ You mean where the tramp’s grave is.
miss? "

“ Yes, Duke; but you must call me
Violet.”

“I will, miss; but you need nor. be
afraid, for I will go home with you, and
be only too glad of the chance," he
frankly added. .

Then he took the cage, and calling to
Buttons, his pony, to follow, he walked
on by her side. ‘

“ You must be so brave to go by that
grave at night, Duke.”

“ I don’t like to, Violet, because I.  _
killed the poor man in self-defense; but, ‘.. 3"
then I do not believe the dead come back‘k

again. .
“I often think of it, especially now 
Miss Kathleen is gone, and pray I may 

never have to take another life.” j ,

Soon after they reached Rose Hill, and
Mrs. Carrol was becoming alarmed about
Violet; but she welcomed Duke and
urged him to stay to tea, which he gladly
did.

When he left that night Violet retired
to her room in full consciousness that she
was in lovekher first love!

And Duke Sanford? He, too, was in,
love with the pretty little heiress of _,
Glen Idle! 

 

CHAPTER XXXV. .
THE WARNING. s 

“ Mount Sanford Manor ” was the
name of the home of Duke Sanford.

It was an old brick mansion, with
large rooms and many of them. It had  ’4?"
been built by the great grandfather of 
the youth, in Colonial days, and with
an eye to the comfort of its owners.

Over a thousand acres were in the estate
around the mansion, fields, meadow land,
and forests, and the cultivation of the
large farm brought in a very liberal in—
come to Mrs. Sanford, who wished to
leave to her only son and heir a hand-
some fortune.

She was justly proud of this handsome
boy of hers, and never had he given her
a pang of real sorrow, though at times .
he was a trifle wild and full of boyish
pranks.

He rode like a Comanche, and hid
though he was, he constantly won all
the prizes at the county fairs, and could
outjump, outrun, and swim further and
Better than any one matched against

im. - ' .

His father had determined to-make an 
athlete of him, with a view that, b.‘
should enter the army or navy, for p ' ‘
tain Sanford had been a naval. r. 
of distinction. '  -

    
   
   
   
  
  
  
    
  

     
        
  

  
    

 
 

 

  
  
    
  
  
    
 
  

- . «$7,911....1. 2gp.

~ The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

 

 

. His grandfather had been an army
officer of the war of 1812, and his father
before him had served during the Revo-
lution, and before it, so that he came of
“ fighting stock.”

Though the Widow Sanford lived eco-
nomically, she was yet generous, for the
poor had reason to bless her, and she
saved but for her son.

"You shall at least have an income
larger than your army pay, Duke,” she
was wont to say, when talking to him
about his future as an army officer.

Mrs. Sanford was also one who had
never allowed an unkind word to be said
in her presence about Kathleen Carrol.

She had always liked the beautiful girl,
and when the tongue of scandal was
busy, she was wont to say:

“ You do not know what she had to go
through with, and how she may have
been tempted, so do not misjudge her,
but look to your own lives. I can never
believe a word against that dear girl.”

And Duke, too, had been his teacher’s
’ stanch friend, and took great pleasure
in reminding those who had talked
against her of how willing they were to
praise when they found she had married
a millionaire, as the gossips had it was
really the case.

“Will you be back to supper to-night,
Duke? Since you have met that pretty
little Miss Violet Vernon, you are a sad
runaway from home!” chided Mr . San-
ford one evening, as Duke mounted his
best .horse and was about to ride
away.

“ I guess I’ll stay to tea at Rose Hill,

mother, for Mrs. Carrol always urges me
to,” and Duke blushed, raised his hat,
and rode on.
' He had become very particular about
his dress of late, always looking his best,
and had not ridden Buttons for some
time, preferring to mount Vixen, a thor-
oughbred mare he had won at a fair for
being the best rider.

Mrs. Carrol had found her table con-
stantly supplied of late with game, brook
trout, and fruits, and it all came from
Duke Sanford.

He had never forgotten to take either a
bunch of wild flowers, or of roses, from
Mount Sanford Manor twice a week to
the burying ground, and in many ways

he had completely won the widow’s}

heart.

When Duke reached the cottage, Phillis
told him that “ Ole Miss” had gone to
town that morning to attend to some
business, and Missy Vi had been writing
letters, so did not go, but half an hour
before had left for the graveyard, on
foot.

“ An’ I is real skeert about her, too,
Mars’ Duke, ’cauSe soon arter she left, a
mighty w ckedJookin’ man went along
de road 0 foot, and den dere was a
karidge come along wid annuder man in
it, Jist as mean lookin’, and he war driv-
in’ slow.

“ Missy Vi hoped as she’d see Ole Miss
and ride back wid her; but I is anxious
about dem men, sah, ’cause I is sartin
dey was known to each other and meaned
no good.”

“ I’ll go at once, Aunt Phillis, and—~”

“’Spose dey was wicked men, Mars’

Duke, is you got yer weepins wid
you? ”
“ No, Aunt Phillis, but I guess I won’t

need any.”

“Hold on, chile‘! Don’t you go widout
nothin’! I’ll git Mars’ Bennett’s pistul,
ther same he fought de dool wid dat got
him kilt—Lordy! what is I talkin’ about?
I declar I do run on dat nonsensikil I
doesn’t know what I says. I’se gittin’ so
old I is gittin’ childish—wait, Mars’
Duke, till I gits de pistul.”

Duke was half tempted to dart away
without the weapon, but he knew some
hard characters had been seen about of
late, and he thought it best to be armed.
' "it’s loaded, sah, ’cause Missy Vi
' loaded it herself only yesterday, arter
hove heerd de Spencer house was broke
inter and robbed.

' “Now go, honey, and I knows if dem
' is. wicked intentioned, you kin

 

  

pertect Missy Violet, ’cause you is dat
brave to do it, and I hain’t forgot how
you kilt de tramp and saved—~L0rdy! I
done losin’ my breb talkin’, while he
are flyin’ away like a bird.

a leetle older may be she fall in luf with
him, and I guess dat is just what Ole
Miss wanter ter happen.

“If on’y Missy Kathleen cud have had
sich a beau as dat, how happy we’d all
have been; but it am too late now—too
late!” and old Phillis returned to her
duties, after another glance down the

where the youth was rapidly dashing
along, Vixen at full speed.

And old Phillis’ fears were not with—
out cause, for, as Duke Sanford rode
swiftly around a bend of the road, a
carriage dashed rapidly past him, and
in it he saw a dark, evil-faced man on
the front seat, who was urging his horses
along at a slapping pace.

The curtains of the carryall were
down, but Duke beheld some one on the
back seat, and there came a stifled cry!

“Save me Duke! for—oh! ”

It was Violet’s voice, and her words
were cut short, ending in a cry.

She had been kidnapped!

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE KIDNAPPERS.

So dearly had she loved her governess,
that the thoughts of Violet Vernon were
in the little graveyard with the dead
many and 'many a time during each
day.\

She went whenever she could
flowers to put in the urn, and she
always found that there were others
there; some one had been before her,
and that someone she knew to be Duke
Sanford.

Upon the afternoon when Violet walked
alone to the cemetery, she had expected
to reach there, place her bunch of roses
in the um, and return to the lower
I highway in‘time to be picked up by Mrs.
=Carrol on her return from town, and

thus get a ride home.

i If she did not meet Mrs. Carrol she
i would have to walk back home, unless
she might meet Duke, as she rather ex-
pected would be the case.

 

: overtaking her while alone on the high-
1 way.‘

| So she walked rapidly along the high-
“ way until she reached the churchyard.

She found the water in the urn nearly
gone, so she took the sexton’s bucket
from the tool shed and went to the
brook to get more.

This consumed some little time, and
she was coming back with the water
when a man arose from a seat near a
grave and said politely:

“I’ll carry yer bucket, miss, fer it’s
two heavy for you.” '

She was slightly startled, but yielded
the bucket to him with a quiet:

“I thank you, sir; it is heavy, and I
am carrying it to that large monument
yonder.”

“ It’s light fer me,” and the two walked
on together.

In spite of his politeness the counte-
nance of the man was an evil one. He
was dark-faced, bearded, and had small,
black, piercing eyes.

He was dressed in a style more like
a sailor than a landsman, and walked
along at a quick, nervous pace.

That he was a foreigner, a Spaniard
he appeared to be, Violet was certain;
but he spoke English without the
slightest accent.

“There, miss, and I’ll clean the urn
out for you.”

“ Don’t trouble yourself, sir, for I can
do it,” said Violet.

“ It’s no trouble,” and with his large
hands he soon had the urn clean, and
emptied the water into it.

“Now I’ll take the bucket back.” he
said.

“ You are very kind; but do you know

 

“He do look awful fine on (lat wild ,
crittur he ridin,’ and if Missy Violet was I:

highway to where a cloud of dust showed .

where it belongs? ”

“ Over in the tool arbor, yonder.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s your mother, maybe is buried
here? ”

“No, sir; my governess.”

“ You must love her heaps to bring
flowers here so often, for I see the faded
ones about? ” .

“ I did love her devotedly, and I love
her memory.”

“ Does yer live near here, miss? ”

“About two miles down the valley.”

“ It’s getting late, so you better let me
see you home, miss? ”

no, thank you, sir. I expect to be

' taken up by auntie’s carriage.”

‘ she hastily arranged the flowers.

“ Your auntie? ”

” I call her so, sir, but she is no rela-
tive, only she is the mother of my gov-
erness," and Violet was growing ner-
vous at the persistency of the man.

“Now I must go, sir,” she said, as
H I‘m
ever so much obliged for your kindness

3 —Good evening, sir! ”

with ‘
most 3

She walked away, while the man said:

“ My way leads down the valley, too,
miss, so if you don’t see your carriage
and wants comp’ny I’ll be near.”

“Thank you” replied Violet, and she
hastened away.

She reached the highway and glanced
nervously up toward the town.

The carriage was not in sight, and as
twilight was near at hand, she walkeu
rapidly away.

She knew that for a mile there was
not a single farm house, and felt that
it would be after dark before she got
home.

She could hardly believe that the man
was following her, and yet she was
aware that he was behind her and com-
ing on at a quick walk.

Presently she saw a vehicle approach—
ing, and as it drew near it came to a
halt.

In another minute the man behind her
was by her side and he said:

“Miss, this is my mate, and he was
coming after me, for I went in to visit
my mother’s grave. We goes on down
the valley, so we’ll drop you at home.
Just git right in.”

“ Oh, no! Thank you, sir! I prefer to

, walk,” and Violet tried not to be afraid

I , 3 of one who had just been to visit his
I If not, then she had to risk darkness

mother’s grave.

But if anything, the driver of the
carryall was more evil looking than his
companion, and she wished to get rid
of them, so said again, as they both

I urged her:

F
l
i
!

 

      

“ No, I will walk, so please go on and
leave me to do so.”

“Can’t think of it, for it wouldn’t be
perlite; you must ride,” and, instantly,
he seized her around the waist, and,
while the driver threw open the door of
the carryall, he thrust her inside, and
springing after called out:

“Now drive for it, Jim, and I’ll keep
her quiet.”

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE CHASE.

The horses of the kidnappers had not
well started before around the bend
dashed Duke Sanford.

He had heard the cry of Violet, recog-
nized her voice, muffled though it was,
and essayed to check Vixen at once.

But the mare was iron-mouthed, and
then on the full run, wished to have
her way, so it was a several hundred
yards’ dash ere Duke could bring her
to a turn, and the vehicle then had all
of a quarter of a mile the start.

It was now dark, and the kidnappers
were anxious to get as far ahead of their
pursuer as possible. so as to dodge him.

“ I don’t mind him, for he looked like
a boy; but he may set men onto us,
mate, so don’t let ther horses rest.” ’

“ I hain’t a goin’ ter, and of he follers
into the bottom, on ahead, I says putfa
bullet in him, for we kin reach the
river in four hours, and by daylight ‘

  

 

 

sat.

a :vI-r ..

4 them! "

 

  
 

The.-Gambler-GeerdéansDouble Deal 23

 

 

have ther craft a long way out 0’ dan—
ger.”

“We must; but We must dodge that?

boy, or he'll get help at every farm-
house he passes.

“Yonder is where ther leetle lady
lives, and beyond that is ther settlement;
then comes ther bottom, and thar is whar
we has got ter check ther boy.”

“ Yes; but keep ther gal still, or she’ll
open up a yell as she goes by.”

“ No danger, if I puts my heavy hand
over her mouth, which I will do, miss,
if you hollers, for we hain’t goin’ ter lose
yer now we has got yer.”

Violet said nothing. She knew that
she had been entrapped for a purpose,
and had heard the threats against Duke
Sanford. '

They might say he was “only a boy,”
but he would rescue her she knew, un-
less they killed him. She could do noth-
ing but bide the time and see.

The horses sped swiftly by Rose Hill,
startling old Phillis, who supposed they
were running away.

It was dark. but there was a young
moon, and the road was plainly visible,
while the driver drove skillfully.

Through the little settlement they
went, and on past the school house, the
vale in which was the tramp’s grave,

Twenty miles away was the river, and
and down the hill to the valley bottom.
along this road Violet had heard there
was not a single farm, for it was all low-
lands.

And Duke Sanford?

When once he had checked his head-
strong mare and turned, he went with a
vengeance to the rescue.

By this time a third of a mile ahead
ran the vehicle.

Like a bird Vixen flew on, and Phillis,
startled by the rapidly passing carryall,
was fairly frightened as she saw the
shadowy form of a horse and rider and
heard the words sharp and ringing:

“Ho, Phillis! Spread the alarm!
That carriage holds Violet. She has been
kidnapped and~”

Phillis heard no more, for the horse
and rider were gone.

Her yells brought another servant, one
of the farm hands, and she hastily told
him what Duke Sanford had said, and
added:

“Jump on de plough horse and ride
to de village, and spread de alarm, Joe,
for Denver he’s away wid ole miss in
town.

“Lordy! dat young Mars' Duke done
got de mad up in him now, sure, an'
somebody is gwine ter git hurted!

"I so glad I give him do pistul! It is
dem men I seen go as has kidsnapped
dat bressed chile. Lor’ be praised! here
are ole miss now! ”

Just then the barouche drove rapidly
up to the gate, and Phillis quickly told
what had happened, as far as she knew.

Mrs. Carrol was almost dazed with
alarm and amazement 'for a minute, but
then she said:

" You have done just right, Phillis. I
will drive on to the village and spread
the alarm.

“Thank God, that noble boy is after

She sprang back into the barouche
and Denver drove rapidly to the little
settlement.

The farm hand was there, and an ex-
cited crowd were gathering, while half
a dozen men had run for their horses.

They had seen the vehicle dash by,
and soon after it Duke Sanford had
fairly flown by, while he had shouted:

“ To the rescue, men! A young girl
has been kidnapped and is in the vehicle

seen Duke, who called to him that they
' had gone that way.
With a cheer the horsemen rode away,
i but the fugitives had the start of them
i by over a mile.

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
BROUGHT 'ro BAY.

The road through the bottoms was as
level as a tenpin alley, and without a
rut to marlrthe smooth run.

There was only a turn here and there,
and those not short ones, while the
young moon lighted the way fairly well.

The kidnappers had arranged against
all accidents, and had prepared for a
chase if it became necessary.

The man who held the reins devoted
himself to his duty, and the one on the
back seat sat with his arm and hand
ready to grasp his captive or smother
her cries.

And Violet, motionless, silent, but
watchful, waited calmly for the result
of all this.

They swept through the settlement,
down the valley road, not a word spoken

- until'they had left the house a mile be-

hind them.

“Are that boy coming?” the driver
spoke.

The other looked back through the
little glass lookout in the rear curtain.

“ Yas, he’s coming; and more—he’s
gained conmderable."

“ Waal, let him.”

This remark sent a chill to the heart
of Violet, for she knew well what it
meant.

“He are coming pretty peart, mate,”
said the man on the rear seat, again
looking back.

“Waal, then, yer’ll have ter do it;
but, fix the gal fust."

What being “fixed” meant Violet
could not understand; but she was not
left long in doubt, for suddenly she felt
something cold touch her wrists, and in
an instant she was manacled.

“This is infamous!” she cried.

“Can’t help it, miss, for we has got
ter save you and pertect ourselves. I
has ter gag yer, too.”

“To prevent my calling out?”

“ Yes, miss.”

“If you will not do that I pledge you
my honor I’ll not. utter a cry."

“ Come, mate, if the gal is ironed she’s
safe, so look to that boy, for I hears
hoof-falls closer.”

The man then quickly tied a rope about
Violet’s waist, and made it fast to the
seat; then be grasped a “pistol, just as
the head of Vixen appeared alongside
and Duke Sanford cried out:

“ Draw rein, quick, or I’ll kill you!”

It was to the driver he spoke, and the
latter dealt him a- blow with all his
force with his whip.

The boy did not flinch, but, with a wild
snort of rage and fright, Vixen sprung
forward and aside.

This act doubtless saved Duke San-
ford’s life, as the man on the rear seat
fired at him and the bullet cut through
his sleeve.

The shot startled the flying carriage
horses and gave the driver all he could
do to see to them, and Vixen became
almost frantic.

But, just here did Duke Sanford show
his superb horsemanship, great strength
and nerve, for, in an instant, he again
ranged alongside of the running team.

“Stop! or I will kill you!”

“Kill him, mate, for he's got me cov—
ered! ” yelled the driver, aiming an-
other blow with his whip.

His mate fired as the whip struck
Vixen, and the animal, with‘ a cry of

 

ahead! Follow me! "
As Mrs. Carrol arrived several horse- ;
men, armed with shot-guns, rifles, or z,
pistols, came dashing down the one street
of the settlement, and a voice called out:
“Which road did they take? ”
“ The bottom road to the river,” shout- ,
ed a. man running up, and who had heard i

 

the rumble of the flying vehicle. He had}

pain, sprung into the air and stumbling,
fell—shot.

But, as she fell, Duke Sanford fired,
not at the driver, but at the nigh horse,
and with a snort and plunge the animal
went down!

With a loud snap the pole broke and
the vehicle surged forward upon the
fallen horse, whose mate was also

 

dragged down, and the driver was hurled
by the sudden stop over upon the kick-
ing, struggling animals.

He gave a loud yell of fright, and
then a groan of pain. while the door
opened and his comrade sprang out, re-
volver in hand.

In spite of his nimbleness, Duke San-
ford had fallen heavily, and was con-
siderably shaken up by the fall; but he
staggered to his feet, and, pistol in
hand, rushed toward the vehicle, crying:

“You must submit now!"

The man inside sprung out, and three
shots were fired in quick succession.

Then came the cry:

“ Violet! Violet! say you are not hurt! "

“No, indeed, you brave, noble Duke!
I am all right, but am tied fast to the
seat.

“And the men?” she asked in a low
tone, as she opened the door.

“ I had to kill the one who just sprung
out, and I think the horses have kicked
the other to death.”

The driver, bruised and bewildered,
rose from the wreck as Duke stepped
forward.

“Come, my man, surrender quick, or
you go to join your comrade! ”

“ I’se got nothin' else ter do, yer young
devil,” was the sullen, vicious response.

“ Very well; hold up your hands, while
I get your weapons.”

“I has got none.”

“Up with them, I say, for I am in a
killing humor just now!”

Up went the hands, and the youth
quickly disarmed him.

“Oh, Duke! others are coming! ” cried
Violet.

“Yes, they are friends, Violet.”

Five horsemen dashed up, and others
were heard coming along rapidly behind
them.

“ Ho, Duke! you’ve got ’em! Hurrah! ”
cried one of the party.

“ Yes, one is dead, and here is the
other, a prisoner, Captain Lane. Will
you see to the dead man, too, sir, while
I go back with Miss Violet? ”

“Yes, indeed, my brave boy, I will!"
said Captain Lane, while one of the
others laughineg remarked:

“ We’ll bury ’em by your tramp, Duke,
so you’ll have a little graveyard of
your own.”

Duke went to the carriage, and soon
freed Violet of her irons and bonds, and
just then up drove Mrs. Carrol in the
barouche.

A few words of explanation followed,
and Violet told what she had heard the
men say about a vessel. Duke at once
decided to put his saddle on the other
horse from the carryall and ride on with
Captain Lane and several others to see
about this craft of the kidnappers.

Mrs. Carrol and Violet at once drove
back home, while Duke and a few other-
rode on to the river.

It was afternoon of the next day before
they returned; then Duke Sanford
learned that the crowd had tried the
kidnapper before “ Judge Lynch,” and
had hanged him soon after the depart-
ure of the mounted party, after which
the two bodies had been buried by “ Duke
Sanford’s Tramp.”

“And you could not capture the ves-
sel?” asked Violet, as Duke stopped at
Rose Hill.

“No. Those on board seemed to sus-
pect something when they saw us ride
up, for they set sail and made off.

“An old man and a youth were on
the craft, and I saw the name on the
stern, and it was:

“ ‘ The Rockaway
of
“ ‘ Barnegat Bay.” ”

“Why, that is the name Gardy wrote
me, of the sloop that found poor Miss
Kathleen’s body, and he said, too, theré
was only an old man and youth on board.
What a coincidence," said Violet.

“ There was no other craft near

 
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
    
   
  
  
  
    
 
 
    
   
   
  
   
  
 
  
   
  
 
    
    
   
  
    
  
  
  
  
    
   
    
 
    
    
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
   
 
    
  
  
  
  
  
 

  
     
     
     
       
      
      
     
      

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

 

we could get, and the wind being fair, ' Glen Idle when he came on to enter the

they escaped us,” Duke explained.
To escape Violet’s expressions of grat—

itude for his rescue of her, he declined.

to remain to dinner, and went on home-
ward.

CHAPTER XL.
A PRISONER AGAIN.

This attempted abduction of Violet
Vernon created much comment in the
neighborhood of Rose Hill, and many
persons called to congratulate Mrs. Car-
rol and the young heiress upon the fail-
ure of the plot.

Of course, Duke Sanford came in for
a great deal of praise, and he was looked
upon as more of a hero than ever.

The dastardly plot had certainly been
well avenged, and it was looked upon
as done to get ransom money from the
guardian of Violet.

At once did Violet sit down and write
her guardian a full account of the affair,
not forgetting to dwell upon the heroism
of Duke Sanford.

Then Violet urged Mrs. Carrol to drive
over to Mount Sanford Manor with her,
that she might personally tell the mother
of her boy hero how full of gratitude
her heart was for her escape, and all
owing to Duke’s most noble conduct.

In answer to her letter to her guardian
came a telegram:

“Am coming to Rose Hill. My con-
gratulations upon your escape, and last-
ing gratitude to your Boy Hero.

“ Dudley Norman.”

The third day after Doctor Dudley
Norman put in an appearance at Rose
Hill.

He was given a warm welcome by the
Widow Carrol and Violet, whom he sur-
prised by walking over from the village,
for he had come by private conveyance
from the town, and not by stage, as they
had expected he would.

1 “ How did you find your way so read-
ily, Doctor Norman? ” asked the widow.
His face flushed slightly, as he an-

swered:

“I met several persons who directed
me; but what a lovely home you have
here!”

Phillis shook her head as she scrutin-
ized the visitor attentively at tea that
night, saying to herself:

“ If dat hain’t de man dat ust ter
visit Missy Kathleen, den it am his
ghost, sartin sure. Folkses may be twins,
and look all alike, but somehow I be-
lieve dat am de same gemman, only I
wouldn’t say so to ole miss.”

Duke Sanford rode over after tea, and
Doctor Norman warmly thanked him
 for his very great goodness to his ward,
' while he added:

“I took the liberty, Mr. Sanford, of
sending you a saddle horse from Balti-
more, in place of the one you lost that
night. She is a splendid animal, I can
assure you, and I took the liberty of
naming her Violet.”

“ You are most kind, sir, and I shall
appreciate your gift, I assure you, be-
cause it is from you, as well as on ac-
count of her name, and the circum-
stance it will remind me of,” said Duke.

And as Norman told him the mare
was by that time at the tavern, he rode
over to the village with "him, driven by
Mrs. Carrol’s coachman.

“ There is the tomb, sir, of poor Miss
Kathleen and her brother, sir,” remarked
Duke, as they drove by.

“Yes,” was all the reply, and they
soon after reached the village, where
they found that the mare had arrived.

Delighted with his present, Duke
placed his saddle, which he had brought
along, upon her back, and set off for
.home.

When he had come to Virginia, Violet
had expected her guardian to remain a
week at least; but, haunting memories

used him to say they must at once re-

were said, and with an
for Duke Sanford to visit

 

West Point Military Academy, the guar-
dian and his ward left for the north.

CHAPTER XLI.
THE ABDUC'I‘ION.

It seemed very lonely, very desolate to
Violet Vernon, when once again she
found herself at Glen Idle.

In spite of the grand mansion, and
all in it and about it that heart could
wish, the young heiress found herself
roaming about in a. dejected kind of way.

She preferred dear old Rose Hill Cot—
tage, and the hills and valleys about it,
to Glen Idle Manor and the grand beauty
of the Hudson River.

She also found herself wishing for the
society once more of Duke Sanford in
preference to that of her guardian.

Although but a girl, Violet was mature
for her years, and really begun to feel
that she was heart and soul in love with
her Boy Hero.

Her guardian had expressed himself
as charmed with Duke Sanford, and
really felt most grateful to him for the
service he had rendered, as far as one
of his selfish nature could feel gratitude
for anything.

But he had feared, young as she was,
that Violet had become interested in
her Virginia Paladin. This would not
do; he had other designs for his ward!

He had decided that he would put her
at boarding school, and the Convent of
the Sacred Heart presented to his mind
the place of all others for her, as he
felt assured she would there be kept
away from any influence that might
arise against him.

He spoke to her upon the subject, and
was pleased with her reply:

“I am willing to go anywhere you
deem best, Gardy, for I wish to learn all
I can and become an accomplished wo-
man, and Miss Randolph said that the
convent was a most delightful place for
a young girl."

“Then, Vi, we will get you ready to
go there. I shall close up Glen Idle and
go to Europe for a few years.”

“ And papa? ”

“I shall see him before I go, and, of
course, if he improves, he can return
at once to Glen Idle, while he will doubt-
less visit you from time to time at the
convent."

“ But, Gardy, you will not remain
abroad until I graduate? ”

“ No, indeed! I shall return each
year, and shall not go for some little
time yet, but am anxious to see you set-
tled comfortably in the convent as soon
as possible.”

“Yes, but you know Duke comes on
soon, Gardy, and I wish to see him, of
course."

Randolph smothered his wrath, and
placidly responded:

“ Ah, yes, and he is to visit us for a
few days, I remember; but, it'is arranged
that, after he leaves, you will go to the
convent?”

“Yes, Gardy,” and Violet retired to
her room.

The next day she got a letter from
Duke. It told her he was coming on, a
week sooner than he had expected, as
he wished to visit a relative in New
Jersey, and would call on her before he
came to make his promised visit, as he
was coming up to the city for a day.

Delighted at the prospect of seeing her
boy lover, Violet went off to look up her
guardian, who, a servant told her, had
walked down toward the river.

She followed the path along the bank
until she came to the spot where had
been the camp of the Sea Gypsies, when,
suddenly, two men sprung out from be-
hind a thicket, and a. heavy blanket was
thrown over her head, smothering her
outcry of alarm.

Then she was seized by strong arms
and borne rapidly to a boat tied to the
shore a few rods distant, and two min-
utes later the, heiress of Glen Idle was
a prisoner in the cabin of a small sloop.

 

f

CHAPTER XLII.
THE SKIPPER'S RESCUE.

Captain Lute Bowles, of the coasting
sloop Rockaway, was what is vulgarly
termed in Florida “half horse, half
alligator”—that is, he was both farmer
and sailor.

He had a little farm not far from
Barnegat Bay, and he had a bed of fine
oysters in the waters quite convenient
to his home, and which gave him a good
revenue.

Then his sloop coasted with freight
when oystering, fishing, and farming
were dull.

His home was an humble one, but he
was prudent, saving, industrious, being
anxious to have a. fine home and to leave
his only son a. snug little fortune.

Mrs. Bowles was a good housewife, and
therefore a real helpmeet to her husband.

Their ambition was for their only son
and heir to live on the farm, in a nice
house, and to command a large vessel
some day that traded along the coast,
while they sat around the hearthstone
to welcome him back from his voyages,
and to play with his children, should he
marry and be blessed with a family.

On one ocoasion, some two years before
the Rockaway is introduced to the read—
er, Skipper Bowles, and his son, Matt,
had an adventure that well-nigh cut
short their usefulness.

Skipper Bowles had a chance to make
a snug little sum by running a gentle-
man’s yacht up to the city, as the ama—
teur crew, in the face of ugly weather,
concluded to desert the craft and go by
land.

The skipper urged that it was best to
wait for the storm to blow over; but
the owner said no; so they started, with
two others to help them.

They were 'hardly well oi! shore when
the fiercest of hurricanes swept the sea,
and the yacht, though stanch, soon
showed signs of distress. Every sea
broke over her, and one of the two men
was washed away, to perish in the storm-
riven sea.

Then the slender masts went by the
board, and the next moment Skipper
Bowles found himself and his son cling-
ing to the yacht’s lifeboat, which. was
full of water, and the other man had
gone down with the foundered craft.

Thus they were driven, clinging for
their lives, all through the night, and
when morning came they were well-
nigh completely exhausted; they knew
that the end was near, unless help came,
for the sea yet ran mountains high,
though the storm was breaking away.

But, help did come, for an odd-looking
schooner, the hull painted blue and the
rails a dingy red, hove in sight. Its
crew saw the lifeboat and the half—
dead sailors clinging to it, and bore
down upon them.

“ Lordy, Saint Matthew!
cried the skipper, excitedly.

“Then we is fixed,” assumed Matt,
whatever being fixed meant.

A hail from the strange craft, as it
luffed up near, and the question:

“ Are you able to swim to the schoon-
er?” -

“ No, mate!” came the faint reply.
“We is too used up.”

“ Hold on then! ”

A moment after a man sprung into
the sea; to launch 'a. boat would have
been madness; and the bold swimmer at
last reached the sunken lifeboat.

He had a. rope about his waist, and
made it fast to the bow rings.

In an unknown tongue he called out
to those on the schooner, and they at
once proceeded to haul the boat under the
schooner’s lee. ‘ .

“ You are all right, now,” the rescuer
said, cheerily, as the swamped lifeboat
drew near, and ropes were thrOWn, which
he tied around the waists of the two
half~drowned sailors.

That done, they, were drawn by strong
hands on board ; the daring fellow who .
had risked memo to save  ,2

It’s a pirit,"

 

 

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

25

 

 

next; the lifeboat was lifted end up, then
down, on deck, and the schooner stood
away on her course.

Back to their home Skipper Bowles
and his son were taken, their rescuers
kindly landing them on their own beach,
near to their very door.

Skipper Bowles offered to repay them
liberally for their time and service, but
they refused, and the schooner sailed
away.

That craft with red sails was the home

of the wandering Gypsies of the Sea!

l

 

CHAPTER XLIII.
FOR LOVE OF GOLD.

Around his fireside on winter even-
ings, Skipper Bowles, his wife, and son
were wont to talk over their rescue by
the bold Sea Gypsies, and wonder what
had ever become of them.

There was also a lingering desire in
the heart of the skipper that he might
some day see the strange vessel again
and its strange crew.

And, singularly enough, this wish was
gratified, for while the Rockaway was
anchored off Barnegat Light one day,
and Bowles and his son were busily fish‘
ing, a craft hove in sight.

She was not sighted until near the
Rockaway, and then Skipper Bowles
fairly howled to his son:

“ Matt! Matt! there is the Sea Gypsy! ”

It was true; there came the blue-hulled,
red—sailed schooner, fairly flying along
dOWn the coast!

She luffed when near the Rockaway,
dropped anchor, and at once her crew be-
gun to fish.

But soon a small boat put off from
her side, containing but one occupant.

“It’s ther feller as saved us, Matt! ”

“ Yes, daddy! ” '

“ He’s a. comin’ ter call, civil like.”

“ Yes, dad!”

The light boat ran alongside the fisher
schooner, and Gypsy Soto sprung on
board. -

He grasped the «hands warmly of both

, father and son, and sat down with the

air of one who had something to talk
about.

“ How are you getting along, mate?”
he asked.

“ Waal, so—so, for times is a leetle dull,
capting.”

“ How would you like to make, say, a
couple of thousand on a short cruise?”

Skipper Bowles nearly broke his head
against the main—boom as he sprung to
his feet.

“A couple 0’ thousand, capting? You
mean hundreds, and that’s big pay.”

“ I mean just what I say—thousands.”

“ Lordy!"

“I have a chanCe to make five thou-
sand dollars at a time, and I’ll give you
two thousand if you’ll do the work
for me.

“The truth 1s, I do not wish to go
back into New York harbor, for two
of my best men got into trouble there
and would be taken by the police.

“ A lady was drowned some time ago,”
he went on,- “and some say she was
murdered; but there is a reward of five
thou-sand dollars offered for the return

of her body.”
“My! they must have loved 'her a
heap.”

“Oh, yes; but, as they are rich, they
are quite able to offer a big sum. Now
mates, I have to tell you that I have
found the body.”

“ You has? ”

“Yes, on the sands at Barnegat Inlet.
I wish you to take it up to the home of
the gentleman who offers the reward;
that is all you’ll have to do.

“ I saved your life, and I want you to
dome a favor, you and your son.”

“We’ll do it.”

“And you can help yourselves at the
same time.”

“Waal, what are it, as we wants ter

- show you our gratitood.”

. ’_ “As I said, I ‘do not wish to run into

 

New York harbor, so you can take the
body in the hold of your vessel, run
up to Glen Idle, up the Hudson, ask for
Doctor Dudley Norman, and tell him you
have found the lady’s body.”

“But, you found her.”

“Yes, but don’t mention me in the I
matter; be very careful about that. Just ‘

say you found her at the inlet beach,
and, having read the offered reward, you
recognized her from her description, and
so brought the remains to him. You
must see him alone, no one else; and
more: you must take him on board the
sloop at night, and show him the body
if ‘he wishes to see it.”

“ Yes, capting.”

“ Tell him you will turn it over to him,
or do as he wishes, and give him this
ring, which you can say you took from
her finger.”

The skipper took the ring gingerly,
and then heard the further instructions
of the Sea Gypsy; all of which 'he faith-
fully carried out, as we already have
recorded.

The errand was not one to the coast
skipper’s liking; but the big pay, and
his obligation to the gypsy, were incen-
tives to a careful obedience to instruc-
tions.

The duty done, the coaster returned to
Barnegat Inlet again, where the Sea
Gypsy schooner had awaited the Rock—
away’s return.

All seemed satisfactory to Soto. and
the red-sail craft soon thereafter left
for parts unknown, while Skipper Bowles
went home to tell his wife his quite re-
markable story of how he earned so
much money, yet suppressing all con-
cerning the Sea Gypsy.

“ We picked up a body, as there was a
reward for,” he explained, “but, as it
may not be ther right one, I guesses
you’d better never mention it, Ann Eliz-
abeth,- to a livin’ soul, for they might
come back on us for the money, if they
know’d, which, as it stands, they don’t
know whar to find us.”

This advice kept Mrs. Ann Elizabeth
Bowles as close as a clam on the sub-
ject, and she at once begun to build
“castles in Spain,” by drawing the plans
for a substantial two-thousand—dollar
house on the farm.

What they already had laid by would
erect outhouses, fences, build a new
wharf, and improve the farm.

“We is gittin’ rich, Ann Elizabeth,
and another haul 0’ that floater kind
would make us like unto millionaires.

“Then we could buy a yacht and take
those summer folks cruising, couldn’t
we, Matt? ”

“Yes, dad,” replied Matthew, who,
though a youth of few words, was a
thorough sailor, and had an ambition
to some day command a pleasure craft
to take out summer guests, at the water-
ing places along the coast, for short
cruises, which he knew paid well.

Q

 

CHAPTER XLIV.
ANOTHER PLOT FOR GOLD.

One Saturday night, several months
after the‘Rockaway had taken the body
to Glen Idle, the little sloop was stand-
ing in toward Barnegat Inlet, her skip-
per hoping to drop anchor by midnight
before the Bowles homestead by the sea.

“I guesses we’ll git in all right, Matt.
for ther wind holds on fresh yet,’ the
old sea wayfarer observed.

“Yes, dad; I hopes so, but yender is a
sail comin’ right astern. See it? ”

“Sartin, sure, Matt. It's right in our

wake,” which was true, for not a mile‘

away came a schooner flying along after
the sloop. A moment’s observation of it,
then the skipper said:

“Matt, see them lights?”

“ Yes, dad; they is red, green, blue, and
yeller.”

“Them’s the Sea Gypsies’ colors, yer
know.”

“Yes, dad.”

“Then we lays to;” and as Matt had

the tiller the skipper attended to the
sheet ropes and the next moment the
sloop lay to.
3 “Maybe

i gested Matt.
1 “I dunno; but I hopes thar is money
in ther comin’.”

The vessel astern ran up near, lay to,
and a boat left her side, and Soto soon
sprung on board the coaster.

“I was just going to run in and see
you, mates,” the gypsy announced.

“ Waal, yer’d a bin welcome, capting.”

“I’ve got another little job for you
to do.”

“ Another floater? ”

“ No, but there is money in it, mate.”

“What’s ter he did?”

“I’ll tell you. I wish you to run up
to town with me and two more of my,
men. We are to anchor up in the Hud-
son River, above the city, and I’ll attend
to the balance, which is to get a girl into
my possession~” ,

“Lordy, capting, are it a runaway
match? ”

“No runaway match. Simply, I am
determined to make a man pay me big
money to get the girl back again; that
is all.

“ I mean her no harm, of course, and
to prove it will tell you that she is a.
lovely little maid of thirteen or four-
teen years, and an heiress to a large
fortune.

“I wish to capture her and give her
to you to take care of for a week or so.

“She need not know any more than
that she is held for ransom, as she will
be, and you can have your wife come on
board to look after her, for it is best not
to take her to your home.

“When her guardian, which is the
same man who paid you for the body,
is willing to hand over the sum I shall
demand, you can sail up to his home
and give the girl up to him, getting the
reward, and you shall have just as much
as I gave you before. It will not take
more than a week to do it all; but if it
does, I’ll give you five hundred dollars
more. Good money, easily earned.”

The skipper’s eyes glistened, and Matt
begun to feel that he was already a.
millionaire’s son. .

After some further parleying the ar-
rangements were made, and the Rock-
away headed for an anchorage in the
Hudson.

Two of the gypsy crew had been lay-
ing in wait about Glen Idle, as prear-
ranged. When the sloop hove in sight
the right occasion quickly offered, for
Violet was found out on the grounds by
herself; the men in ambush easily seized
her and bore her to‘the sloop, which at
, once set sail for Barnegat Bay.

With a guilty conscience Skipper
Bowles entered the inlet by night, with
his charge; his wife was brought off to
care for the captive, and the Rockaway
headed at once for the North Shrews-
bury River, where, under pretense of
oystering, she would be near the Sea.
Gypsy captain when he came to order
the commander of the little sloop to
take the heiress back to Glen Idle and
get the ransom money, for this was to
be arranged with her guardian in the
meantime.

it’s another floater,” sug—

 

CHAPTER XLV.
BROUGHT TO TERMS.

When the discovery was made that
Violet was missing, there was great ex-
citement with all in the Glen Idle man-
; SlO‘n.

j Jennie, her maid, was nearly frantic,
remembering the attempt to kidnap her
in Virginia, and it was her suggestion
which caused Randolph Norman to be-
.1ieve she had been abducted, rather
, than that an accident had happened to
her.
a Inquiry among the workmen on the-
place discovered that a sloop had been
‘ lying at anchor in the basin above, and
lwhich .had been lately known as the:
I Gypsy’s Harbor. , ‘ 

 

  

  

  
  
  
   
        
  

       

  
 

  
 

26

 

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

   

 

 

This sloop had sailed toward night,
going down the river.

Norman recalled that it was a sloop
which Duke Sanford had seen in Vir-
ginia waters, so he was convinced that
it was the parties who had before at-
tempted to kidnap his ward who now
had successfully carried out their in—
tention.

Of course they could have but one
motive—to secure a large ransom for her.

He gritted his teeth savagely at the
thought, for it would draw upon his
pocket again; but then, he must have
his ward back, or he could never hope
to get her riches in the end.

That was one thing which held him
in check, for Walter Vernon had so in-
vested Violet’s inheritance that it could
not be draWn upon, and every dollar of
interest remained in hand to swell the
principal.

When she was eighteen, all would be
hers.

But the other half, with the income
arising from the lands about Glen Idle,
was all in the control of the man he
had trusted.

Out of this he was, of course, to pay
all expenses and educate Violet, while
Glen Idle was also to be kept up, to be
turned over to her in good shape when
she received her fortune.

It was a very generous sum, too, and,
but for the gambling mania which pos—
sessed Randolph Norman, it would have
enabled him to lay by a very large por-
tion of the income.

But, so far, he had drawn it down to
a very small sum, comparatively, in
bank, and he knew that soon he must
begin to draw upon the fortune itself,
at the rate he had been letting the gold
slip through his hands.

So he could not let Violet be lost to
him, if he had to pay any amount to get
her back.

To put it in the papers would be to
have it perhaps reach the eyes of Wal-
ter Vernon and cause trouble.

Then it would attract attention again
to himself and Glen Idle, which he was
most anxious to avoid.

So he called all of his servants to-
gether, and told them that he was cer-
tain Miss Violet had been kidnapped,
and for the purpose of getting money
out of him.

If he advertised her loss, it would only
delay the abductors in bringing her back;
therefore, 'he wished not a word said of
it, and would vouch for it that some one
would soon appear to negotiate for her
return.

Two days passed after the abduction,
and as Norman was pacing to and fro on
the piazza, he beheld an organ grinder
coming up the gravel wa‘”

He was about to order the vagabond
musician away, when the man said:

“Donta getta mad a’ my moosic.
Donta wanta play. Wants. talka about
senorita.” -
Norman started, for he knew what
this meant.

The man had brought him news of
Violet.

Glancing about him to see that none
of the servants were about, he said:

“Come up here, my man.”

The invitation was promptly obeyed.
The organ was placed upon the top step
of the piazza.

“What did you say about senorita?”
demanded Norman, almost fiercely, of
the black-bearded, long-haired man.

“ Senorita gona? ”

“ You stole her, you rascal!“

“Oh, no! no! senor! I was gooda
man.” ‘

“I have a mind to have you thrown
in jail until you confess where my
ward is.”
I' “ If senor pleasa; but, betta not. Pay

1 mona, and getta senorita. Putta me in

locks-up, me talka about senor—Jtella

" ‘ ; badda story.”

 “You kidnapped her, did you not? "

ita, and tella me come tella senor pay:
fiVe thousand dolla and getta senorita.”i

“Where is she? ”

“If senor know, he no paya momma”;

“When can you bring her back?"

“ Two days.”

“ How? ”

“ Boata come ponda——two day, at sun-
seta; senor coma with monna; paya and
getta senorita.”

“ I’ll be there, and if you play me
false, I’ll have men there to capture you.”

“If senor playa false to kidnappa, will
tella heapa stora on senor.”

“I’ll be there, and all will be right.
Now go.” -

“Thanka, senor. Playa. moosic,” and
the man struck up “Viva Garibaldi,"
which drove Norman hurriedly into the
mansion.

 

CHAPTER XLVI.
DUKE SANFORD TAKES A SAIL

On the shores of the North Shrews-
bury River there dwelt, at the time of
which I write, a family by the name
of Duke, who prided themselves upon
their ancestry.

There home was a fine one, and stood
upon the highlands of the north shore,
until a few years ago, when it gave place
to the more modern residences of the
New York millionaires who went there
to “ Summer by the Sea.”

Mrs. Sanford of Virginia had been a
Miss Duke, and it was her brother whom
her son, Duke, had gone to visit on his
way to enter the West Point Military
Academy.

He looked forward with considerable
pleasure to a week or two to be passed
with his aunt and uncle, before settling
down to the life of a soldier.

He had written to Violet that he would
make this visit, and take a day off to
run up and see her and her guardian,
before coming for his visit of a few days

 

I letic form and a-handsome, resolute face.

Iford. as though to hurl him back into

 

on his way to the “ Point.”

He arrived at the Highlands, to receive
a most affectionate welcome from his
uncle and aunt.

Major Duke had a very trim cat-rigged
boat, and the day after his arrival Duke
went for a sail in it.

He ran up the river for some distance,
to suddenly come Upon a sloop at an-
chor there.

Now, there was nothing strange in
this; but, somehow, the sloop had a
familiar look in Duke’s eyes.

On the deck sat a youth about his own
age, and he alone was visible.

Running close in, Duke held in under
the stern, and his hand almost let go
the tiller as he read the name:

“ Rockaway, of Barnegat Bay.”

Of an impulsive nature, he at once
put his helm down and ran alongside of
the sloop, for he remembered her as the
craft which had been at anchor in the
river in Virginia to carry off Violet.

He had no'design in boarding, other
than to see just who the people of the
vessel were, and thus discover how it
was they had attempted to kidnap the
young heiress.

As he glided up to the sloop, he sprang
forward, seized his painter, and leaped
on board.

“What on arth did you do thet fer?
Dad, come here! A young feller has
boarded us!” cried Matt, taken by sur-
prise, for he supposed the catboat was
going about, or intended passing by.

Then, from the cabin, came a wild cry:

“Oh, save me! for I am a captive
here!"

Duke Sanford was startled, for he
knew that voice!

Out of the cabin rushed Captain
Bowles, and he beheld his son confronted
by a tall young man, with a fine, ath-

Matt had stepped toward Duke San-
his boat; but there was a look in the

face of the stranger that seemed to
dare him to attempt it.

 

  

Out came the skipper, and he seemed
to be also taken aback.

There was no longer any cry. from
the cabin for help; he had seen to that,
for he had thrust his captive into the
one little stateroom forward of the cabin,
and Ann Elizabeth B-owles stood guard
over her.

“ Waal, Matt, what’s the racket?”

” Why, dad, this feller jist boarded us
uninvited like. Shall I toss him back
into his boat?” .

“No, don’t do it. Leave me ter talk
ter him.” .

“Well, talk fast, for I heard a cry for
help, and I’m not one to let it go un-
answered. What have you to say, old.
man?” demanded Duke, peremptorily.

“What does yer want aboard my
craft, young man? ”

“I’ll tell you in a word. I am visit-
ing up yonder, on rthe hill, but I live in
Virginia, and some time ago I Saw this
very craft in Virginia waters.

“She came there for no good, for a
young girl was kidnapped by two vil—
lains, and if I had not killed one of
them they would have gotten off with

er.

“The other man was captured and
hanged to a tree by the people.

“Now, I was sailing by, recognized
the craft and her name, and as I came
aboard I hear a cry for help from the
cabin.

“Give up the captive you have, or I
will make it so hot for you that you’ll
likely be swung up to a tree ashore, as
the other villain was.

“There is little breeze; you cannot
escape out of the river; so do as I say,
or take the consequences! ”

The skipper was terribly frightened
and turned pale; so he sought to hedge.

“Mate, I has heerd yer in patience,
and I desire to say as how this craft
were chartered by bad men fer a run to
Virginia waters, and, as I larnt arter-
wards, for an evil purpose.

“Then, agin, some parties chartered
me for a run inter York harbor, and a
leetle gal were brought on board, and
my wife were axed ter take keer 0’ her
fer a few days.

“ They said as how she were a leetle
light in ther upper story, and they would
call fer her in a few days.

“So we tuk her, and she are in ther
cabing, and thet are all ther is "to it.”

“I’ll tell you what I'll do, captain,”
said Duke, after an instant of thought.

“Waal.”

“Let me see the girl, and if I know
her, and I believe I do, then I’ll take her,
if I have to take your life to do it! "

“ I’ll tell yer, mate, what I’ll do,”
and the skipper betrayed his deep ex-
citement.

“Well?”

“ I’ll give her up, if yer’ll say on yer
honor, I kin git up anchor and go free,
and yer won’t prosecute me fer what I
hev’ did, not knowin’ it were wrong.”

“ Agreed! Now show me your captive,”
said Duke Sanford, and he still stood
aloof, determined not to be caught in a
trap himself.

,—

\

 

CHAPTER XLVII.
SURPRISES ALL AROUND.

"Has I yer pledge, mate, that me,
mine, and my sloop are ter go free, and
yer will not prosecute us? ” demandedl
Skipper Bowles, as he moved toward the
cabin.

It I do',)

“Yer means it, for though I are a. hon-
est man, I has sense enough to see what
I has did may git me inter a peck o’
trouble.”

“I will keep my‘word, as I promise
you.”

“Wall, come inter ther cabing and
see ther leetle leddy.”

“ No, I am no 13001, old man. Let my ‘

come on deck."

./-

“ Yer is scared?” . 3 ‘-. j j in!"  ‘

  
   
   
   
    
 
   
  
       
         
     
           
   
       
     
        
       
   
       
         
       
       
     
   
       
         
       
     
     
           
       
     
     
         
       
       
     
     
       
       
           
     
     
       
     
       
     
     
     
   
     
   
   
   
   
         
       
       
     
       
         
       
       
   
     
         
     
       
       
     
     
     
     
  

   

 

 

 

     
   
   
  

I ' . yet must hide his time until her arrival,

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

“Not scared at all. Simply, I am not
to be caught.”

“Maybe you is right; but I intended
yer no harm.”

“ Bring out the one you have, then!”

Skipper Bowles sighed heavily, and
went into the sloop’s cabin.

There stood his wife in the companion
way, her face very pale, for she had
heard all.

In the stateroom was Violet, a quiet,
but attentive, listener.

“Whar be she?” asked the skipper.

“In ther cuddy, and I’ll git her, ’cause
we don’t want ter do nothin’ as hain’t
right,” replied Mrs. Bowles.

“Say, puss, yer is wanted out here,
and it do look as though we had done
wrong in keepin' yer; but, then, it are
ther fault 0’ them as fetched yer to us.”

Violet made no reply, but hastened out
of the little stateroom, and sprang to
the deck.

“ 0h, Duke! ”

“ Violet! ”

And they grasped hands in their de-
light.

" How came you here?” asked Duke,
excitedly.

“ Kidnapped.”

“ By these people? ”

“ Oh, no, by others, who brought me
on board, and I really believed did de-
ceive these people about. me, for they
have been very kind to me.”

“I am glad to hear that. But come;
get into my boat, for my uncle Duke
lives up yonder on the hill. Are you
ready? ”

“Yes, indeed, I am! ” and Violet leaped
down into the catboat.

“Captain, I advise you to lose no time
in getting up your anchor and setting
sail out of this, for when I tell my story
there may be those who will want to
punish you, in spite of all that I can do.
You can get dowu to Sandy Hook by the
time I reach the house yonder, and—”

There was no need to say more, for,
while Matt had sprung to the anchor,
his father was already setting the sail.

As the cat-rig swung off to the breeze,
the sloop began to move, and by the
time that Duke Sanford was heading
for the Highlands dock, the Rockaway
was under all the canvas she could set,
flying down the river toward the lower
bay.

As Duke at length reached the man-
sion with Violet the Rockaway was
crossing the Horse Shoe and flying along
toward Sandy Hook, under a freshening
breeze and with night coming on.

Entering the mansion, Duke introduced
Violet to his aunt and uncle and soon
told his story.

“That fellow ought to be hanged,"
declared Major Duke, going out upon
the piazza to look out for the sloop.

But, darkness had fallen upon the sea,
and with it had come l‘ain, so that noth-
ing could be seen.

A telegram at once was sent to Glen
Idle, as follows:

“ To Doctor Dudley Norman,
“ Glen Idle Manor.
“ Above Washington Heights,
“ New York.

" Rescued from my kidnappers today
by Duke Sanford. Safe and well. Start
for home to-morrow under escort of
Duke. Violet.”

“ Curses upon that boy! He has saved
her again, and at that rate she will fall
so desperately in love with him, I will
never be able to win her from him.
This must be stopped!”

So said Randolph Norman, when the
telegram was handed to him, as he sat
in his library, happy in the thought that
he had arranged for the restoration of
his ward at the sum of five thousand
dollars with the pretended organ grinder.

1n amazement at Violet’s dispatch, he

I

   

 

 

   

27

 

when he could discover just what had
happened, and decide what it meant
for him.

 

CHAPTER XLVIII.
A vrsrr FROM THE GYPSY.

The organ grinder who had appeared
at Glen Idle and negotiated with Ran-
dolph was none other than Soto, the
Sea Gypsy.

The gypsies having discovered that
it was easy to get money from the mas-
ter of Glen Idle, determined to work
that mine for all there was in it for
them.

‘incy had been paid to do away with
the governess, and their money had been
forthcoming.

And again, through the skipper, Lute
Bowles, they had secured three thousand
more of the reward.

Then it occurred to Soto to “ strike it
rich ” again, and he had attempted to
kidnap Violet, in Virginia.

Foiled by Duke Sanford’s pluck, he had
not given it up, but once more made the
attempt, and with success.

Having her in his power, he had visit-
ed Glen Idle, and obtained the pledge
of ransom money, so had but to go after
the captive.

He returned to New York City, and
leaving his hand organ at the place
where he had hired it, went to the As-
toria Ferry, and there found one of his
crew awaiting him in a small sailboat
which belonged to the gypsy schooner.

He took the tiller when his man had
raised sail, and headed up the Sound.

In due time he reached Flushing Bay,
where the schooner was at anchor.

Ten minutes later sail was set and
she was going down the East River on
her way past New York.

Soto had planned so as to pass by
night. He did not, just then, care to
have his weird—looking schooner seen
and attract attention.

It was not dawn, when, before a good
breeze, he ran up to where the Rockaway
had been at anchor.

He had left her there and gone on to
New York, in his little boat; but the
sloop was surely gone.

He sailed along the shore looking for‘

her, and meeting an oyster boat, hailed
and asked about the sloop.

She had left the evening before, round—
ed the hook, and headed south, the man
replied.

So, all sail was set, and the schooner‘

headed out of the river.

Had Violet, the next ,,morning, at
an early hour, glanced out of her win-
dow across the Shrewsbury and the
narrow neck of land that forms Sandy
Hook opposite the Highlands, she would
have recognized the gypsy schooner; but,
when she did look out, the strange craft
was far in the distance.

“A strange craft passed down just
after sunrise this morning, heading south.
It had a blue hull, and red sails, like
you told,me the schooner of the Sea
Gypsies had, Violet,” said Duke Sanford
at breakfast.

“ Yes, it is the Sea Gypsy schooner, for
I have seen her pass several times,”
said his uncle, and he added:

“ But, I don’t wish to hurry you, Miss
Violet, yet we have to hasten to catch
the boat from Red Bank, if, as you say,
you must go home'tooday.”

“Oh, yes, sir; I must return, for I
suppose Gardy is even now wild about
me, although he must have my dispatch
by this time,” and then hastened to
catch the boat, Violet little dreaming
that the appearance of the Sea Gypsies’
schooner in those waters had aught to
do with her abduction.

And on sailed the red-sail schooner,
under shortened sail, as Soto had no
desire to run into Barnegat Bay in day-
light, so it was after sunset when he
headed into the inlet. \

She went in slowly, and dropped an-,
chor off the home of Skipper Bowles. I {

I

   

  

 

2 There lay the Rockaway at anchor, but
3no one was on board of her.

Landing, Soto made his way to the
skipper’s home, and his hail soon brought
old Lute to the door.

He was frightened, without doubt; but,
recognizing the Sea Gypsy, he asked
thim in, and told him just what had oc-
curred.

“That cursed boy again!
who killed Mona and Vara.

“Now he comes here and saves the
girl when the gold was as good as in my
hand. I do not blame you, my friend,
for you could do nothing; but, another
time we will—”

“ We won‘t, Mate Gypsy, for I has had
a lesson and been scared nigh into fits.
No, I has helped you all I kin, so let
us part good friends, and not a cent
do I want for the last trip.”

“Well, you know best, and I act alone;
Ibut, skipper, don’t talk, for gypsies re-
.member! We part friend-s. I’ll git .the
I money yet. Good-by.”

i Soto left the' house, to the great joy
of the skipper, and soon after the weird
schooner sailed away.

“That ends it, Ann Elizabeth and Mat-
thew—making money in an unsquare
way. We’ll be honest in future,” avowed
the old coaster; and he stuck to his'
‘ resolution.

It was he

 

m m——

CHAPTER XLIX.
BACK TO GLEN IDLE.

The dispatch from Violet was a cause
of more anxiety to Randolph Norman
than he cared to admit.

He was almost bewildered with doubt,
apprehension, and fear as to what it all
boded for him.

He gave orders for the carriage to meet
each train, and let the servants know
about the dispatch he had received.

The afternoon train brought Violet,
,whom Mrs. Duke had rigged up to look
,as well as possible on the way home,
lfor she had only been in her every-
day suit when kidnapped.

Duke Sanford was with her, a proud
smile upon his fine face, proving how
pleased he was that he had again saved
the little maiden, whom he loved with
all the warmth of his young heart.

Randolph Norman gave them both a.
hearty welcome, and asked his ward to
tell him all that had happened, for he
was even more anxious to know it than
she could imagine.

She told of her having gone out to
seek him, and how she had been sudden-
1y caught down by the gypsy camp and
carried in a boat to the sloop.

Then she gave the story of her cap-
tivity, of how the vessel had been run
down the harbor and into the Shrews-
bury, and how Duke Sanford had hap-
pened on board.

“Why, it is like a romance, my child;
but, thank Heaven, you are back again,
safe at home, and I will see that you
are not kidnapped again.

“ I have also to thank you, my young
friend, for, though they would not have
harmed Violet, they would have made
me pay a round sum for her release.
Already I was negotiating with a rascal
for her restoration to me. I only wish
I could get hold of him.

“Now go, Violet, and make the ac-
quaintance of Mrs. Scott, the new house-\
keeper, who came to-day, and get ready

to the comfort of Master Duke.”

Violet was glad, indeed, to get back
to her own room again, and she took an
instant fancy to Mrs. Scott, who came.
to congratulate her on her safe return,
as did all of the servants, while Jessie
wept with delight, as she was deeply at-
tached to her young mistress.

Duke was shown to an elegant room,
and' made to feel at home, while Ran— 
dolph went to his library. ' 

“Yes, it will end in a love affair which. v.
I shall never be able to break, so I must
get her into the convent, where her

 
 
  

   
  

 

 

not correspond with’ her. For my
. , fl 1 i ‘.  ‘

"1.._ 9

 

to join us soon, at dinner, for I will look , .

  
     
         
  

  
 
 
    

    

 

 
    

    

28

The Gambler—Guardian’s Double Deal.

  

 

 

he will be like one in prison, at West
Point, and by the time he graduates I
will take good care that she shall have
become my wife.

“ But I wonder if that infernal organ
grinder will dare call on me, now that
she has been brought back?

“ Well, I saved my five thousand dol-
lars through the boy’s pluck and good
luck. I have that to thank him for, at
least,” and Randolph turned to greet
his young guest, who just then entered
the library.

 

CHAPTER L.
RANDOLPH NORMAN'S CONSCIENCE.

The visit of Duke Sanford was a pleas-
ant one to him, whatever it might have
been to the master of Glen Idle.

He tried to be the courtly host, and
appeared to be anxious to make the
youth’s stay most agreeable; but, some-
how, the demo-n in ‘his nature would
master him at times.

With a perfect knowledge of her guar-
dian’s disposition and moods, Violet real-
ized that something was wrong, and she
determined to fathom the cause.

This did not take long, for, intuitive-
ly, she saw, girl though she was, that
Norman was jealous of her Boy Hero!

At first she was indignant, then it
amused her.

Duke, also, discovered that something
was wrong with his host, 'try as he. did
to hide it; yet the boy could not think it
was jealousy of him, so he set it down to
anxiety proceeding from this second ab-
duction.

In his heart Duke did not like the
man, and somehow had distrusted his
sincerity from the moment he met him
at Rose Hill. Why he should distrust he
really could not explain; but the feeling
was firmly fixed in his mind, and kept
him, almost unconsciously, on an anxious
seat, when in the presence of the master
of Glen Idle.

The visit at length ended, and the
youth arranged to go to New York, pre-
paratory to entering the academy. at
West Point.

 

daily, sir, for his appetite is not so good,
he is growing thinner, and becomes more
violent.

“Be prepared, sir, to hear of his de-
parture from life within a few more
months.

“The nurse I recommended for Mr.
Vernon writes me that he, too, is failing
fast; but, all is done that can be for the
unfortunate sufferers, and we leave the
rest to Providence."

At which the Lucifer of it all would
smile sardonically.

“When they die and Breton, too, is
out of the way, my anxieties will all be
at rest, and not until then,” said this
veritable genius of evil.

 

CHAPTER LI.
A VALET’S CLAIM.

The Lucifer of Glen Idle begun to feel'

better, as the weeks passed and no other

attempt was made to get possession of

Violet.

Then, too, letters from. Doctor Anti-
sane’s Cure—all Sanitarium seemed more
satisfactory, and the surgeon in charge
of the asylum where Walter Vernon was
had written him that, from some reason,
his patient was getting into a worse
condition.

So the master of Glen Idle secretly re-
joiced 0Ver his good fortune!

Of late Violet had taken to reading
the papers, and her quick eyes had dis—
covered something which her guardian
had not seen, or, if seeing, had failed to
read to her.

It was a notice of

“A Daring HorSeback Feat!
“A Young Virginian’s Pluck!”

Then it went on to tell how a new
cadet at the academy had boldly ridden
down the dangerous pathway along the
cliff known as “ Lovers’ Walk,” to the
admiration of his fellows, and the ap-
plause of many others who had witnessed
his daring feat.

The article went on to say:

“The hero of this bold deed is Cadet

The day he departed he StOOd With I Duke Sanford, who comes from an old

Violet upon the piazza. The carriage had
not yet come around which was to take
him to the boat landing.

“Violet,” suddenly spoke the young
Virginian, “you are but a girl, and I
certainly am not a man yet; but we can
both love, and hate, I know, and I wish
you to learn to love me, for, some day, I
will come to you and ask you to be my
wife—”

He ceased, for the guardian was quick-
ly approaching.

Violet’s face was crimsoned with
blushes, which she knew her guardian
must see.

Had he overheard what Duke had said?
She could but feel that he had. Indeed,
his very manner indicated as much to
her questioning eyes. '

Duke Sanford went his way, and Violet
so plainly showed how much she missed
him that her guardian decided to still
keep her at Glen Idle, and not to send
her to the convent, at least to board.

He bought for her a little carriage and
horse and gave her a special driver, to
be driven daily to and from the convent.

Mrs. Scott was an estimable, middle-
aged lady, the widow of a clergyman, and
I was a good chaperone when Violet need-

ed one, and Randolph Norm-an felt sat-
isfied with his new arrangement.

This the young girl rather liked, for
she dearly loved Glen Idle, and her
charming rooms there, while she was not
under the restraint she would be if a.
boarder at the school.

Dinner she always had with her guar-
dian and Mrs. Scott; but at breakfast
she had that estimable lady only for com-
' pany. as Norman never rose before nine

‘ go’clock.
 Norman had had several letters from
' Mr. Frederick Breton. in which that

   

this effect:
"4&1 fear your loved brother is failing

    

 

Southern family, long connected with
both the army and navy of the United
States.

“ Cadet Sanford is a handsome, fear-
less-faced youth of eighteen, well formed
and an athlete, being the champion of
his class.

“It is said that few of his fellow-
cadets care to face him when he has the
gloves on, and he came to the Point a
skilled hand with the foils, having been
taught by his uncle, Major Rodney Duke,
of New Jersey, who was the best swords—
man at the academy in his day.

“He came to the Point with a record
of having, on one occasion, killed a tramp
whom he caught robbing a lady school
teacher, and who attacked him. On an-
other occasion, he saved a young heiress
from being abducted by two villains, so
says the Weekly Truth Teller of Virginia.

“We predict for Cadet Sanford a.

brillaint career in the future.”

The brow of Randolph Norman dark-
ened as Violet read this glowing account
of her Boy Hero, and she noticed it.

Some time after there was another
account of Duke Sanford having saved
a. lad who had broken through the ice
while skating, and had done so at the
risk of his OWn life by plunging in among
the pieces of shattered ice.

Again did Randolph Norman have to
hear the account read, and between his
shut teeth came a bitter execration.

But, Violet heard the utterance, though
though she did not app-ear to, and it gave
her more food for thought.

One day, soon after this incident, while
Violet was at school, a visitor called to
see Randolph Norman.

This visitor he received coolly.

“Well. sir, how can I serve you?” he

worthy always sang the same tune, to» demanded.

I The caller was well dressed and had
the appearance of a foreigner.

’ 6

“You do not seem to remember me,
Mr. Norman,” and the speaker slipped
into a chair uninvited.

“Your face is familiar, but I do not
recall you.”

“I was your valet, sir, in Baltimore,
then known as Pedro.”

“Ha! I recall you now; but I have no
work for you now, Pedro.”

“I did not ask for any, Mr. Norman;
but your eyes are not so keen in recalling
faces as one would think, for I have met
you since those days in Baltimore, and
yet you did not remember me.”

“Nor do I care to remember any old
servant I have bad. If you need aid, say
so, and I will help you, but if not say
what you do want, for I am very busy."
) “Mr. Norman—”

“ I am Doctor Norman.”

“ I knew that you had a twin brother
who was a doctor, but I did not know
that you had that title.”

“Will you state your business with
me and be off? ”

“ Money! ”

“ I knew it.
and—”

“Mr. Norman, I don’t want ten dollars
——see, I have several hundreds with me.”

“ What in Heaven’s name do you want,
then? ”

“ Five thousand! ”

“Do you think I am a fool, that you
make such a demand upon me, simply
because you once served me for a couple
of months as a valet? ”

“ No, it is because I know you are not
a fool that I make the demand, and also
on account of having served you as a
valet for a few months.”

“Ha! you expect to blackmail me, do
you? "

“ No, to make a request, and if you do
not grant it, to make a demand. I want
five thousand dollars, Mr. Norman.”

“ You’ll not get it.”

“ You refuse? ”

“ I do.”

“Then I demand it.”

“I have a notion to kick you out of
my home.”

“Your home! Pah! And a kick, eh?
Try it on at your peril! Now to business,
Mr. Randolph Norman! ” and the vis-
itor's demeanor was decidedly aggressive.

“I first saw you one night when you,
with a party of friends, were visiting
some rather wild places in the slums of
Baltimore, and, but for me a man whom
you threw out of your way would have
knifed you.

“You offered me a place with you, for
I said I was in need, and I was, then; I
was 'in hard luck, for my vessel had
sailed without me, and I was in distress.

“I took the place you offered, and so
learned all about you.

“ I was the one who secured the man
to marry you to Miss Carrol, and you
supposed that it was not a minister; but
I pitied her sad fate, and so engaged a
real clergyman, to protect her.

“I was your valet longer than you
thought, for I was with you when you
shot Mr. Bennett Carrol in the duel, and
know that you wore a wire net, or shirt
of mail, and that it saved your life.

“ You owed me my wages, and de—
serted me in the town, leaving me prac-
tically penniless; but my ship came back,
and I was all right once more.

“The next time we met, Mr. Norman,
was on your grounds here, but you failed
to recognize me, though I knew you,
and yet I did not come here then ex—
pecting to see you. .

“ It was an accident; but I had my
mustache then, and as Soto, the Gypsy,
you did not know your old valet, Pedro
of Baltimore, ‘

“ The Sea Gypsy Queen is my mother.
and we are a people who cruise about at
will.

“ I was in bad luck, as I told you, when
in Baltimore; but now I am captain of
our craft, and I needfive thousand dol-'
ars.

Here is a ten-dollar note,

 

“ You tell me you are Doctor Dudley
Norman now, yet you admitted I was

    

 

 

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

  

29

 

 

  

your valet in Baltimore, and then you

were Randolph Norman.

 I have no desire to push you hard,
Mr. Norman, but I lately lost some money
that, I may say, I had already made, but
was euchrcd out of, so I come to you, nat-
urally, for the sum.”

“ Did you not say you would never
come near me again when I paid you the
last money? ”

“ That was as Soto, the Sea Gypsy; but
now I come as your old and attached
valet.”

“If I pay you the money you ask, you
pledge yourself never to demand another
dollar from me, as gypsy, valet, or any
one else, or to let any of your accursed
people do so? ”

“Yes, I promise."

“ Will you keep your promise?”

“ I will.”

V “ Then I shall pay you the money, and
I swear to you, if ever you again come on
1 my grounds, I will kill you at sight.”

Then he arose and took from his safe,
with a deep sigh, as though every dollar

1 was a. drop of his heart’s blood, the sum
of hush money, demanded by the man,

land counted it out to him.

S “ There is your money, so be off, and
remember my threat, for I mean it, so
help me Heaven!”

The gypsy pocketed the money and de-
parted, leaving Randolph Norman in a.
frame of mind by no means enviable or

amiable.

 

CHAPTER LII.

, THE TELL-TALE BLANK.

f The papers were full of the “terrible
affair ”-——the burning of an insane asy-
lum in which a number of the unflortu-

1 nate inmates had been lost.

1. Violet heard it the moment she reached

jschool, and going to the Mother Superior
asked her permission to return home,

,as she had an intimate friend there.

| Her own carriage had gone back to

‘gGlen Idle, so she took a hack from a.
stable near by and drove home.

‘ Norman was just coming out of his

- room to his usual late breakfast, when

' Violet, white-faced, but calm, met him,

~gas she came in.

‘ “ Gardy, the asylum where poor papa

:is was burned to the ground night before

‘last. I heard it at the convent, so re-

.‘ turned at once. Have you any tele-

Q-grams about it? ”

’ The man was startled, but a. strange
look passed over his face—a look that

EVilolet could not read.

j He stepped to his seat at the dining-

1 room table and grasped his mail.

( There was no letter, no telegram from

1 the asylum, so he turned to the morning

ipaper, to find in it the full account of

'_the calamity and the names of the dead.

That of Walter Vernon was not there.

. Then Pierre came in with a telegram

lwhich had just arived.

{ It read:

3 (I 
l “ Doctor Dudley Norman:

“ Too worried and hard worked to wire
before. Mr. Vernon is not injured, and
fhas gone with his attendant to Doctor
tAntisane’s Sanitarium. His effects were
all lost. L. Warmouth, M. D.”

a “Thank God!” 'came fervently from
;Violet’s lips. “But why did poor, dear
‘papa not come right home? ”

‘ The prayer was not echoed by the
Igu-ardian, nor was the wish that he had
Tcome to Glen Idle.

‘ There was another expression upon his
' face which Violet could not read.

“Your father, I fear, is not in a con—
dition to Come home, my child; but I
must at once telegraph Doctor Antisane
to give him the best of quarters, and get
for him all that he needs.”

“Who is Doctor Antisane, Gardy, for
the telegram is signed Warmouth? ”

.“ He is the doctor in charge of the
Cure-all Retreat, or Sanitarium.”
“ You know him, then? ”

 

.‘L

 

“Ah, yes, I—that is, you know, I had
some correspondence 'with him when
your father first thought of going there.”

Randolph Norman saw that he must be
careful, for Violet was no longer a little
child, and was now, evidently, think-
ing for herself.

At once he took up a pencil and wrote
a message on the pad of telegraph blanks,
read it to his ward, and dispatched it by
a servant to the station.

What he read to Violet was:

(I 
“ Doctor Antisane.
“ Physician in charge, 850.

“ Give to Mr. Walter Vernon your very
best; rooms, and every luxury without re-
gard to cost. Write me fully regarding
him, and draw on me for all articles he
may need to purchase.

“ Dudley Norman, M. D.”

“ You are so good, Gardy,” said Violet,
who had decided not to go back to school
that day, and as the gardener sent in to
see the master, Norman, having finished
his breakfast, left the table.

Violet took up the papers and tele-
graph blanks, to put them in the library,
and her eyes fell upon the trace of words
on the pad, which the pencil had dis-
tinctly impressed through the first sheet
of paper.

“Why, I can read it,” she said, and,
as her guardian had read it to her, she
felt that it was no detrayal of confidence,
so read as follows:

If 
“ Fredericw Breton,
“ Attendant Insane Ward,
“Cure-all Hospital, &c.

“Heard from Doctor Warmouth of
burning of asylum and that Vernon was
sent to Cure-all Hospital. Assume full
charge of him and write me fully at once.
Draw on me for all funds needed and
do all in your power for his comfort.”

N D. N.”

This was certainly different from what
her guardian had read, and she greatly
wondered at it.

It was not even to the one whose name
he had pretened to read out.

“For some reason Gardy is deceiving
me,” she murmured.

Pulling off the tell-tale blank, she car-
ried it to her room, and all that day the
beautiful young heiress was in a very
thoughtful mood, which her guardian at-
tributed to her father’s narrow escape
from an awful death.

 

CHAPTER LIII.
SERVING TWO MASTERS.
Two days after the burning ‘of the
asylum, a letter came from Doctor War-
mouth. It was brief and to the point:

“I wired you of our fearful tragedy.
Your friend Vernon escaped, and, as his
attendant urged it, I let him go at once
to Doctor Antisane’s Cure-all Sanitarium,
and he is now there.

“ There is half a week’s board due, for
which I send bill, and will be thankful if
you will remit, as we will need all funds
now which it is possible to obtain, for
we lost heavily,”

The check was filled out; then, Ran-
dolph turned to another letter.

It was from Mr. Frederick Breton,
written in a very neat, clerk-like hand,
and read as follows:

“ My dear sir:

“Of course you have read'full par-
ticulars regarding the asylum fire.

“I was there that very night, to see
how my nurse was taking care of Mr.
Vernon, so at once decided to bring the
patient to this place, considering it best
under all circumstances.

“ Doctor Antisane gave him the rooms
on the south corner on the same floor as
your brother’s, and they are equally as

 

elegant, so the price is the same—~one
hundred per week for patient and nurse.

“ This will make your check for Doctor
Antisane reach two hundred weekly,
without extras, and the pay of myself
and my assistant attendant.

“Kindly send checks on lst and 15th
of each month, and for our salaries in-
cluded, and oblige.

“Mr. Vernon took the burning out
to him, and I expect it will show itself
against him in time.

“ As for your brother, his condition is
the same.

“ Perhaps it would be well for you to
run up ‘here, if you care to do so.

“ Your humble servant.

“ Frederick Breton.”

“P. S. The purchases I was com-
pelled to make for Mr. Vernon, who lost
everything, amount, as you see by Within
bills, to three hundred and fifty dollars.

“ I paid the bills from my own money,
so kindly send check and oblige.”

“Money! Money! Thus it goes,” and
with an execration Randolph Norman
wrote another check in favor of Freder-
ick Breton, and sent it with a snort letter.

“Two hundred weekly, not to speak
of extras and the pay of the two attend-
ants. I’ll not get off with less than a.
thousand a month. It is expensive to
keep insane people,” and with a scowl-
ing face he left the room, muttering:

“ Does the fool think I would go to than;
place again? ”

Now, Mr. Breton had no such idea—he
was not such a fool.

But the request for his principal in the
game of life and death, as he then well
knew it to be, to put in an appearance at
the sanitarium sounded well; it showed
that he was anxious to have himself in—
vestigated by his master.

i

But, he perfectly understood, as we ‘

shall see, that Randolph Norman would
not care to come!

Had the Genius of Evil made the visit
he would have been startled in» deadly
earnest!

Truth to say—Mr. Frederick Breton, of
“Lon’on, Hengland,” was serving two
masters—or, indeed, three masters.

The attendant loved money—was ava—
ricious; but, he had a. tender heart,
withal, and his contact with suffering had
not made him callous.

Somehow he had begun to distrust his
employer, even before he had visited
him at Glen Idle, and after that visit
he knew Randolph Norman to be a vil-
lain. So he began to take notes, and to
secretly investigate affairs as opportun-
ity offered.

He drew Dudley Norman into conver-
sation, listening with interest deepening
with each interview, and shorthand writ-
ing being one of his accomplishments, he
took down all that was said.

Again and again he brought out the
story from Dudley Norm-an, each time
putting it down, when the poor man
believed him only scribbling, and not
listening attentively.

And each time the date was put on the
slips, so they could be compared.

Then Mr. Breton asked his patient
about one Walter Vernon.

Dudley told of his having saved his
life, and this story, too, was gone over
and over again.

“Where is this Mr. Vernon now?"
asked Breton.

“I do not know, for I have never met
him since we parted, after his recovery
from his wound.”

Then Mr. Breton asked him all about
his brother, and the patient smiled sadly
and said:

“You are only laughing at me, and
urging me on, for you know my brother
says that I am not Dudley Norman, but.
Randolph.

“ That is why I am here, because he
says I am insane, and you also think a).
Great God! can it be true? Can I really
have lost ,my mind? ” he groane‘d.

" Mr. Norman, my idea is that you 
not insane, and my. advice to you is 

l

  
 

    

   
   

  
 

..,.,,‘ai-jf’~,~>x,.,ie_,‘,¢ N; h, ‘ s  ‘ "

  
    
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
    
    
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
   
 
    
  
  
  
 
    
  
  
   
  
 
    
   
   
 
   
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
 
   
  

  

  
  
 

  
 

,‘ versation. he said:

The Gambler-Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

 

to worry, for I believe you are coming '

around all right.”

“Thank you for those kind words,
Breton," and the man was deeply moved,
for they were the first words of encour-
agement that had been uttered.

After this Breton took a couple of days
off and ran down to see Mr. Vernon.

He was known as Doctor Dudley Nor-
man’s confidential man, so had full
permission to visit the patient.

“What have you done so far for the
patient?” he asked the man whom 11
had employed as special nurse. '

“ Nothing out of the hordinary. ’Ave
been waiting your hinstructions, has you
irld me,” replied Juniper Berry,
vizs also a Cockney,

who i
and had been a!

shoolm-ate of Mr. Breton’s in the old‘

country.

“Very well,," and Breton had a long ‘
: the cloud and mists have cleared from

talk with Mr. Vernon.

That was the night of the fire, and
Walter Vernon and his nurse, Juniper
Berry, went back with Breton to Prof.
Antisane’s Cure—all Sanitarium and “ Pri-
vate Retreat.”

 

CHAPTER LIV.
wnAerG A wan.

Walter Vernon was located in the
rooms assigned to him at the Cure-all
Sanitarium, and as Doctor Antisane saw
that Frederick Breton knew his busi-
ness, gave him no trouble, never ob-
jected to his “ bill of extras,” and seemed
to have Doctor Dudley Norman’s full
confidence, he allowed him his way, so
the rooms of Vernon were in the same
wing with that of the patient Randolph
Norman.

Soon after the arrival of Mr. Vernon,
Breton had long conversations with
him, and again he used his skill as a.
stenographer.

He soon made one discovery, to the.
effect that Mr. Vernon was variable in ‘

his moods.

His stories of the past agreed, but he
seemed to distrust himself at times, and
said that he was glad to be under re-
straint.

Mr. Breton decided in his own mind

that there was a reason for all this, and .

he talked to him about his wound, and
then examined it with the air of a man
who knew what he was about.

“ Mr. Vernon, I am sure that you can
be cured wholly, sir, if you will do as I
ask you.”

“Gladly, my man!”

“Let me telegraph for Doctor Carter
to visit you.” '

Many doctors had seen him, and all
disagreed, and none had helped him; but
he was willing to see the surgeon Breton
referred to.

.Mr. Breton telegraphed and advised
the doctor to come prepared for an opera-
tion in surgery on a patient's skull.

The doctor came, examined his patient,
was told that Doctor Dudley Norman
had urged his being sent for, knew that
a big fee was assured, and then told
Breton:

“ You ought to have been a surgeon,
for you have diagnosed this case exact-
ly. It is as you say, the bullet indented
the skull just there, and when the bone
is raised I believe he will have a mind
as clear as ever.”

“God grant it!” said Walter Vernon;
whereupon the surgeon set to work, with
Frederick Breton aiding him.

Then Breton took the first thousand
dollars paid him by Randolph Norman,
for “fatal services to be performed” by
him, and paid the doctor, who departed,
very well pleased with his earnings, for
a thirty-six hours’ trip.

Mr. Vernon had, of course, to be kept

quiet, the fresh wound had to heal, and ;
so Mr.‘

he must have no excitement;
Juniper Berry was told to devote himself
to him at all times.

One day, several weeks after the opera-

tion, Vernon was seated in his parlor,1

looking out at the scenery.

He appeared like a different person,
and greeted Breton pleasantly as he en-
tered.

“You seem all right, sir.”

“I am wholly so, Breton, and never
felt better in my life. When will you
let me go to my home? For now that

my brain, I feel anxious to see my loved
daughter, and look to her future hap-
pineSS.

“God bless you, Breton, for it was
you who brought this perfect cure to me.”

Breton took a seat and said:

“Mr. Vernon, I wish to have a very
important talk with you, and I desire
that you listen calmly to all I tell you.

“You need have no fear, for your
daughter IS safe and well, and there is
nothing for you to worry about, only do
not get excited, as there must now be
no set—back to your healt 

Vernon was uneasy, and asked anx-
iously:

“Has my daughter’s guardian lost her
fortune? ”

“ No, but it is of Mr. Norman I wish
to speak.
did not know, but you must leave all to
me in what is to be done. Can you
trust me? ”

“ Certainly, and will.”

“ Now, as I said before, do not be anx-
ious, for you will have no cause to worry.
I know that you were half-demented at
times, rendered so by that bullet wound;
but I know now that you are wholly
yourself again.

“I am aware that you, fearful of trust-
ing yourself, went willingly to the asy-
lum, and placed in the hands of another
your fortune and your daughter’s guar-
dianship. But, when you did so, were
you aware that Doctor Dudley Norman
had a twin brother? ”

“ I was not."

“ He had, and they were so near alike
that few persons knew them apart. One
was a. doctor, and went West; the other
was a. lawyer, and remained East.

“ Now, somehow, your letter to Doctor
Dudley Norman, I am sure, reached the
hands of his lawyer brother, Randolph,
who, a fast man, extravagant and deeply
in debt, played the desperate game of
representing his brother; moreover, he
headed off that brother by meeting him
in Buffalo, pretending that he was in-
sane, and sending him to an asylum.”

“ My God! "

“ Do not get excited. Mr. Vernon, for
it is all right now, as I was Mr. Norman’s
nurse.

“ At first I deemed him insane. but I
had occasion to visit Glen Idle, to see its

master, and what I learned there con-,

vinced me that Randolph Norman was
playing the‘ boldest game for gold that
I ever heard of mortal man daring to at-

: tempt.

Doctor Carter was deservedly famous ‘

as a surgeon, and his skill soon did for

ton said it would.
Then the surgeon was asked to have
a. talk with “ the other lunatic," as Mr.

'Walter Vernon just what Frederick Bre- .

Breton put it, and after an hour’s con- ‘

“Breton, I fear I was over hasty in

 my decision in that man’s case, and per-
'r hope it would have been better not to

 
    
   

' have sent him here.

“t But, you watch him closely and re-
peat, and when you consider him safe, I’ll
ya you’ the certificate of discharge you

filer bins” ’ '

\

 

“ In fact, Mr. Vernon, while even your
daughter believes him to be a noble man
and all that is good, he is to—day at
Glen Idle as its master, while his de-
frauded, shamefully used brother, Dud—
ley, is an inmate of this very asylum.”

" Great God! what a plot! what a hu-
man vampire he is."

“He is all that, sir; but I wish to
have you meet Doctor Norman, the real
one, who saved your life. and you will
soon, by comparing notes, decide that
there is no mistake, for there must be
many little things which you will be

able to recall between you that only the

true rescuer could know."

I wish to tell you what you v

“True, indeed, Breton, so let me go
to him at once.”

“ No, I will bring him here, for I have
to prepare him to meet you, though he
now knows that his brother has cruelly
wronged him,” and Breton left the room
and sought that of Dudley Norman.

CHAPTER LV.
run was wovnx.

Doctor Dudley Norman was pacing to
and fro in his room when Frederick Bre-
ton entered. He had been told that he
was indeed not insane, and that for cer-
tain purposes his brother had placed him
there; but he did not know the whole
truth, and Breton, as he entered, re—
marked:

“ Sit down, Doctor Norman, for I have
something to tell you.”

Dudley silently obeyed,
said:

“I told you that your brother had
placed you here in order to play a bold
game for his own advantage. You know
that he pays most liberally, and so must
have plenty of money. That money he
got through his startling resemblance to
you. In other words, he has played Dud-
ley Norman the past two years and more.

“You have told .me how you saved
the life of a California miner, and had
not met him since; but, it was not his
fault, for he sought to find you, and at
last addressed a letter to you to your old
home, where your brother Randolph re-
ceived it, I am confident, and, being in
need of money, played a daring, danger-
ous, desperate game to get it.

“The letter was from Mr. Walter Ver-
non, telling you he believed he was go-
ing insane, and should enter an asylum,
and it gave to you the power of attorney
over his fortune and the guardianship of
his only child.

“ Mr. Vernon met your brother—met
you, as he supposed—and did all his let-
ter had stated, and then went to the
asylum. Your brother became master
of Glen Idle, a magnificent estate, and
guardian of Violet Vernon, then a maid-
en not yet in her teens.

“ He placed you here, so as to preserve
his secret, and all would have gone to
his diabolical planning had he not be-
lieved that gold would buy any man, and
got me to visit him at Glen Idle, where
. he quietly paid me money, for which I
was to take your life, by slow poison,
and then was to get rid of Mr. Vernon in
the same way.

.“ I took the money, and, of course, it
set me to thinking. I comprehended that
you were the victim of a cruel. wrong, so
I at once determined to save you, and
also to be just toward Mr. Vernon. The
asylum where he then was caught fire
and burned down, and it was I who
brought him here.

,"I disccvered that a surgical opera-
tion would cure him, and sent for Doctor
Carter, whom you saw here a few weeks
ago, and Mr. Vernon is to—day a perfect-
ly well man.

“ More: he knows all, and is now wait-
ing to see you, and when you are con-
vinced that all I have told you is true, I
have something more to say to you both.
Come w1 h me, please, to his rooms.”

Dudley Norman was too amazed, too
i pained to speak; but not a word told
, to him by the nurse could he now deubt,

and he went with Breton to meet the
. man whom he had last seen out on the

frantier.
“ Mr. Vernon, let me present Doctor
i Dudley Norman,” said Breton, as the two
entered the room.

“ My God! can two, beings be so alike in
face and form, and yet so different in
heart? Doctor Norman, you recall me,
do you not? "

“Indeed. I do, sir, though you have
aged since we passed a few weeks togeth-
er ln what you called Camp Samaritan,"
answered Norman. and their hands were
clasped in true friendship.

“I regret that we meet again under
such painful circumstances,” said Ver-
non.

and Breton

 

 

  

 

      

The Gambler-Guardian’s Dou

 

 

 

the guilty should prosper, for I believe
you know all.”

“Yes, all, and we owe it to our good
friend Breton, here.”

‘ We do owe him more than thanks can
ever repay.”

“ Gentlemen, I assure you I have made
a snug little sum out of the affair, for
thus far he has paid me three thousand
dollars—and I was to get two thousand
more when you two gentlemen had de—
parted this life through my work.

“ To Doctor Carter I paid one thousand
dollars, knowing that you would gladly
do so, Mr. Vernon, and the balance, with
my very liberal earnings, I now have.

“To Berry I have said nothing; nor
will I; but I have a desire to track this
whole affair out, and as you two gentle-
men wili now be company for each other,
I will be my own detective and begin
on the career of Mr. Randolph Norman,
since he and his brother parted.

“When I have all proofs, I will place
them in your hands, gentlemen, for you
to act in the matter as you deem best.
So now, sirs, what say you?”

They both agreed with Frederick Bre-
ton, and the next day he started on his
work as his OWn detective.

Juniper Berry was installed as the at-
tendant of both the “ invalids,” who
were now allowed free access to each
other’s rooms, though Doctor Antisane
was not made aware of the true state
of affairs. '

 

   
 

 
  

CHAPTER LVI.
TIIE ms'r snow.

For three months was Breton absent-—
time enough to make his work as a de-
tective most thorough.

He had gone to the old home of the
Normans, and had made every. discovery
there that he sought.

He had gone to Baltimore, and his work
in that city was to the point.

Of course he used the money unstint—
ingly, whlch he had received as blood—
money from Randolph Norman, and by
its use was able to track the man, who
was still dwelling in fancied security at

 
    
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
   
 

posed, in all his deviltry.

His marriage, his duel, and his gam-
bling were all traced out; then the silent
shadower went to Virginia.

Not a suspicion did he leave in Mrs.
Carrol’s.mind, though he saw and had
a talk with her.

He simply said that he came as Doctor
Norman's friend, who meant to help her,
and yet .he begged her to say no word
about it.

She wondered, yet promised.

He saw the Carrols’ tomb, and he re-
turned to New York to find out all else
necessary to complete his case.

An adept at disguises, a half a dozen
different times he went to Glen Idle, each
time as a different person.

He had a talk with Pierre, as one who
intended to establish a “Society of But~
lers."

He interviewed Mrs. Scott as a book
agent, and had a long talk with Jessie,
Violet’s maid, as a young man who was

‘ a devoted friend of her sailor brother,
then at sea, and which fact Breton had
most adroitly discovered.

He visited Glen Idle in the known ab-
sence of Randolph Norman, in the dis-
guise of a clergyman, a friend of the
Reverend Snow, of Virginia, who had
buried the dead Carrols for two genera-
tions.

In his ingenious way he secured a
number of important points from the un-
suspecting Violet.

This was his last master-stroke, and
then he returned to the Sanitarium with
his data.

By registered letter to Dudley Norman
he had sent all of his “notes,” as he

, had called them, so that, upon his return,

‘ ’ the two friends were wholly posted as to
x ‘ his movements. '

.When all was known, that Randolph

   
   
   
  
  
  
    
 
  
    
  
  
    
    
   
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 

   
  
       

 
 

    

Glen Idle, and prospering, as the sup—-

 

   

“ It is sad, sir, but better so than that 5 Norman deserved hanging there could be

no question, in the mind of his
brother.

He certainly had slain Bennett Carrol,
and that he was in some way implicated
in the death of Kathleen they now firmly
believed.

When all the facts were before the
three, Walter Vernon said:

“ Doctor Norman, you see for yourself
this fiendish plot of which your brother
has been guilty; but, for your sake, I do
not wish to see him hanged, and I assure
you that I believe our good friend here,
Mr. Breton, will hear me out in saying,
that, though we have the power to hang
him, we had better let him go.

“My desire, then, is for you to visit
him, not from here, but from some other
place to which the three of us will go,
and, telling him you know all, advise
him to seek safety in immediate flight.

“ Tell him to take what money he can
lay his hands upon, and go, and to leave
Violet to await your coming.

“What say you, Breton?”

“I will be guided wholly by you, sir,
and for Doctor Norman’s sake, I think
it best.”

“ Thank you, Mr. Vernon; and you, too,
Breton, for you. are more than good to
me in this,” returned Dudley Norman,
and his voice quivered with emotion.

’ilzihus it was decided, and Mr. Vernon
sa :

“ We have Doctor Carter’s certificate of
discharge, so we can go at once to New
York, and you, Breton, can go on to Glen
Idle to see what has been the result of
Doctor Norman’s letter.

“I can have a talk with my daughter
and explain all, and it will not be my
fault if happiness to us all does not follow
all this plotting and unexampled villainy
of this modern Lucifer.”

The letter was written. It told the
story of guilt, and was as follows:

“You played your game to win, and
won, for you put me out of the way
forever, as you believed; but, chance has
helped me out of my living tomb, and in
the hands of a detective are the papers
which will put you in prison for your
sin, and wrest from you the property
you have so long controlled and the
lovely girl you have taught to believe
you were the legal guardian of and pro-
tector. ‘

" But you are my brother, my twin
brother, Randolph Norman, and I can
not bear to see you suffer as I have, even
though your crimes and perfidy deserve
it, and I secretly write you, while the
axe hangs over your head, this letter of
warning, that you may fly far away be-
yond pursuit and arrest. *

-" Take what cash you yet may have
in your possession, and go, leaving the
home and little Violet to await my com-
ing.

" Tell her what you will, as to your go-
ing, for I shall not contradict you, and
let her know you to be the wicked man
you are.

“But go; do not delay; and let me tell
you, Randolps, if you ever cross my path
again I will send you to prison, aye, to
the gallows, for you well know that I
can do so.

“ Go and be warned.

“Your wronged brother,
“ Dudley Norman."

Such was the letter that Randolph Nor-
man read aloud, in the privacy of his
elegant room.

It had come to him that day; he had
found it ,ypon his desk—brought by spe-
cial messenger. the butler said—when he
returned home from the races, where, as
usual, he had bet heavily and recklessly,
and also, as usual, had lost a consider-
able sum.

“ Cursies on him!
But, he is free, that is certain, and he
can send me to prison, perhaps worse, as
his letter hints.

“ I dare not delay; I must escape 'while

even

I can: but, what ill luck it all is! At any

other~time I could have taken with me a
t , “- i ' ‘ '

How did he escape? ,

ble De_?it:__

 

 

  

31

 

 

large sum of money; but now, those in-
fernal races have nearly cleaned me of
all my ready funds!

“Let me see: I will write a check and
send it down to the treasurer of the club
and get it cashed to—night, for he often
has cashed my checks, and can let me
have a thousand, at least; and I guess I
can raise as much more from my desk.

“But, I go not alone. Oh, no! They
do not know me who would think so.
Violet Vernon goes with me!” and he
broke forth into a mocking laugh, such
as Lucifer only might utter. ,

He sat down to his desk, and hastily
wrote a check for a thousand dollars,
and calling a servant said:

“Order the carriage at once for the
station. Go to the club and get this
check c;.shed for me; but be back by
seven, for I must take the nine o’clock
train to-night, as I am suddenly called
away. Send the housekeeper to me.”

The servant disappeared, and, a few
moments after, a matronly looking per—
sonage entered the library.

“ Mrs. Scott, I am going to take a trip
to Canada, and I wish my ward to ac—
company me, so please get her ready at
once, for I go by the nine o’clock train."

“ This is sudden, is it not, sir? ”

“ Yes, quite so; but, Violet will only
need one small trunk and heavy clothesl
I will pack my own trunk myself; but
pray tell my ward to be ready when
I am."

“Yes, sir,” and the surprised house-
keeper retired.

A moment after a young girl of four-
teen dashed into the room.

“Going away, Guardy, and going to
take me, Mrs. Scott says?”

“ Yes; so do not delay in getting ready,
Vi."

"No, indeed! for, I wish
much! ” and away she darted.

Then Randolph. Norman set system-
atically to work to “pack up."

All his valuables he put away, and
looking over his private desk, he found
several rolls of money.

This done, he went to his bedroom and
selected from his clothes what he would
most need. His quick mind had already
decided where he should go. And as the
kidnapper of Violet Vernon, the little
heiress, he well realized that he would
be a fugitive from justice, and if tracked
would suffer for more than the crime of
running of! with the child.

A couple of hours passed. The serv-
ant had returned from town with the
money, and the nine o’clock train carried
with it Randolph Norman and Violet
Vernon.

Usurper, fearing the brand of crime,
he had heeded his twin brother’s warn-
ing, and escaped; but had now added to
his sum of crimes the heinous offense of
kidnapping the little heiress of the great
Vernon estates.

to go, so

 

CHAPTER LVII.
BY AN ACCIDENT.

There was an accident on the railroad.
and lip-going and down-going trains on
the Hudson River road were detained.

There had been a death at the Military
Academy, and the young cadet was to be
sent home for burial.

A “ Guard of Honor ” was with the
body, and one of the number was Duke
Sanford.

When the accident occurred he walked
down to the wreck.

There was a train in front of his, de-
tained, and going through it he heard his
name called.

“ Why, Violet! and Doctor Norman!"
he cried.

They explained that they were going
north, to Canada, when the cadet officer
in charge of the guard‘ of honor entered
and called out: '

“Cadet Sanford! " ' i

“ Yes. sir! ” and Duke Sanford was 0.1 ._ ‘
attention. H i

“ Go forward and see, if you can. pew
long this is likely to delay us, fora-Int“

32

The Gambler Guardian’s Double Deal.

 

 

morning, I must go back to the station
and telegraph the commandant.”

Duke said hastily to Violet that he
would see her on his return and de-
parted.

He reached the wreck, and the con-
ductor told him it would be an hour be-
fore the up train could go, on the right-
hand track, but much longer before the
down train could go through.

As he turned he suddenly saw a gen-
tleman near him.

“Why, Doctor Norman, how did you
get here so soon, when I just left you
yonder, in the train, on the side track,
and I certainly. hurried? ”

“ My dear young friend, you call me
by name, and yet I do not recall you.”

“Not know me? Why, doctor, I just
left you and Violet, and—~"

The man he addressed started, turned
pale, and called to two gentlemen who
stood near.

Duke was turning away, when the gen-
tleman placed his hand upon his arm.

“ My dear sir, did you ever hear that
Doctor Dudley Norman had a twin

brother? ”
~' “No, sir."

" Well, he has, and I am that brother.
Your name, please? "

“ Duke Sanford, cadet at United States
Military Academy, sir."

The three gentlemen looked at each
other.

“ Ah! you are Cadet Duke Sanford,
then? Well, we have heard of you, sir,
and that you twice saved Miss Violet Ver-
non from ‘being kidnapped. Now, Cadet
Sanford, you say you met my brother in
the train on the side track? ”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ And Violet is with him?”

" Yes sir. I am one of a guard of honor
to a dead cadet comrade, and passing
through the trains, I met them. They
are on their way to Canada."

Again the three gentlemen looked at
each other, and then the one who had
formerly spoken said:

“ Cadet Sanford, I wish you to do me a
favor, but I cannot explain now, more
than to say. that this gentleman is the
father of Miss Violet Vernon, and is on
his way to visit her.

“ Pray go back to the train and simply
say to Mr. Norman that Miss Violet’s
father is here, a passenger on the down
train, and with him is his brother and
e detective.

“ Tell Miss Violet that her father is on
his way to visit her at Glen Idle, and
wishes you to bring her to him.”

“ And Doctor Norman, sir? ”

“ He will not care to come,” was the
significant reply.

" I will do so, sir, if I may. first report
to my ofiicer.”

“ Certainly.”

The cadet departed, now filled with
astonishment and anxiety.

He proceeded to his officer with his re-
port, and was told that they would wait
and go through

Then he returned to Violet and her
guardian.

“Doctor Norman, I met three gentle-
men just now, and one I mistook for you,
while another said he was Miss Violet’s
father and on his way to see her, with
your twin brother and a detective, and
he begged me to escort your ward to
them.”

The cadet saw the face of the man he
{addressed turn of an ashen hue, saw

him spring to his feet, and heard the
‘ trembling words:

" Yes, yes, my brother—your father—-
go with him, Violet, and I will follow
_ presently.” .

Violet went with the cadet, but Ran-
dolph Norman did not follow! '

The up train found a way sooner than
was expected, and he went with it, and
'Duke Sanford rode on the same train to
New York with Violet, her father, and
taliie man who should have been her guar-

an. -

He was asked to stop the next day at
-, Glen Idle, and got permission to do so.

,¢,_Then he heard the story which Violet

“r l

 

already knew, and, as they talked over
the strange career of Randolph Norman,
a telegram came, telling of his death in a
railway accident.

“ It is better so,” said Dudley Norman.

CHAPTER LVIII.
CONCLUSION.

A well man once more, Walter Vernon
resumed full possession of his estate.
while Doctor Dudley, Norman settled in
the neighborhood to practice his profes-
sion, and the people found him to be a
very different personage from his twin
brother, of whose violent death they had
all heard.

A month after the return of Walter
Vernon to his home, a veiled lady ap-
peared there, one day. She had a won-
derful story to reveal.

It was Kathleen Norman! She told
how she had been kidnapped by the Sea
Gypsies, but not killed, and had been
held by them a prisoner on their vessel,
to in the end he used to extort from Ran-
dolph Norman a large sum of money. for
her captors.

They had used another body with her
clothing and wedding ring, to impose on
Randolph, and so had obtained a consid- '
erable sum from him.

But, she had been well treated, and
when Soto had seen an account of Nor-
man’s death by the railroad accident,
he had at once released her, under pledge
that the Sea Gypsies should not be prose-
cuted. In their schooner they had sailed
for other lands, while she had returned
to Glen Idle.

Can words describe the Joy of Violet
at the return of her governess, who was
to resume her duties as such, as soon as
she had returned home to visit her
mother?

Thither Mr. Vernon went. with them.
and the result of his visit to Rose Hill
was that, six months after, he became the
stepfather of Kathleen!

Nor was this all; for, in time, Dudley
Norman offered his heart and hand to
Kathleen, and she became his wife, and
a noble husband he made her.

Frederick Breton decided that he would
open a detective agency in New York.
Mr. Vernon set him up in business, and
he became famous as a secret service
expert, and, as if to make the romance
more romantic, Jessie, Violet’s maid, was
won over into becoming Mrs. Fred Bre-
ton.

Cadet Duke Sanford graduated with
the first honors of his class, and, years
after, when he had won rank and fame,
he offered his heart and hand to Violet
Vernon, the belle and heiress.

That they. were wed, and were happy
beyond all words 'to express in that con-
summation of affection, is the climax to
a history of human experience whose
record reads like some weird dream.

mm.