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Detective Fleet of London.

 

 

 

Detective Fleet of London;

0R,
Unmasking the Conspirators.

A Story of Philadelphia. and London.

 

BY A. 1’. MORRIS, JR.,
AUTHOR or “me nxx’s I’ROTEGEE,” ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE LOVERS.

MANY years ago there was situated promi-
nently on the Germantown road, a short
distance beyond the city limits of Phila-
delphia, amagnificent residence built after
the imposing style of a French chateau. It
was surrounded on three sides by beautifully-
ornamented grounds, and broad, grassy
lawns, wherein stood immense shade-trees,
at various points, underseated with iron
benches; and at the rear were well-graded tcr-
races, rendered gorgeous with innumerable
plants and flowers that lent an almost cloying
perfume to the summer breezes. From
the toad to the house was a gravelt-d drive,
dotted on either side with beds of rarest
roses, and shrubs of gaudy bloom. The
piazza, at the front, was wreathed in vine-
clad trellis—work ; while through and
. through the molded eaVes twined, in at-
tractive, drooping fashion, the golden-
leave'l ivv.

it n as here that Calvert Herndon, a retired
merchant of reputed wealth, had settled down
to the luxury and ease well-earned by ears
of toil. He was a widower. A deirly- OVed
wife had been laid torest long lret‘ore the
period in which our story opens; but a
daughter, just merging into perfect woman-
hood, remained to him, to cheer and soothe
him in his declining years.

It was a summer day of
splendor.

In the very center of a flower-bed, culling
choice buds from among a host of red, yellow
and crimson roses, stood a maiden of rare
and lustrous beauty].

Her slender ands were busy with
fragrant buds, and as she stooped to pluck
the last gul from off its stem. she uttered a
pleasud exclamation, and held the result of

er labors out at arm’s length to contem-

late it. -

“ There! isn‘t that a beauty? I promised
Victor that, when he came this morning, I'd
have the prettiest collection ready for him
his eyes ever beheld. Now, then, only a lit-
tle more evergreen, and u. leaf or two of fern,
and I’ll have my bouquet completed. But
what time is it, I wonder ?" (Drawing from
her belt a small medallion watch, and glan-
cing at the dial.) “Why. I do say! it‘s
nearly half-past ten. And Victor said he
was coming about eleven. I must make
haste,” and she proceeded to put the finishing-
touch to her light task.

Ere the fern-leaves were adjusted. however,
a footstep sounded upon the path, and Victor
Hassan, he of whom she had spoken in her
self-commune, appeared before her.

“Good morning, Pauline, my dove,” he
said, stretching forth both hands. In a mo-
ment she was in his arms, whilea fervent
kiss passed between them.

_ “I’ve come, my darling, upon the errand
I promised. Is your father in?”

exceeding

. “Yes. I left him in the parlor not more
than an hour ago. You'll find him there, I
guess."

“And having found him, pet, when I
leave him, the destiny of my whole future
will be decided.”

“"Mine, too, Victor," she added, nestling
her head confldingly on his breast. “If he
refuses to rant your request for my hand in
marriage, —I’ll—-I am sure I shall die.”

“Oh, no—not that, I hope. But don't
despond. Wait until I see him. He could
refuse me for no other reason than that
my salary is barely sufficient to support
me. Even that will not count, for I expect
soon to be advanced in my position. and
therefore I shall be perfectly independent
while my health and strength last. Here

oes, at all events; I can only fail,” releasing
himself and starting toward the house as, he
spoke.

 

“Ohl may IIcaven grant he will not refuse
you, dear Victor!" murmured Pauline.

Her lover curt back a smile of encourage-
ment and continued on, while she, in trepi-
dation of mind, sought the fragrant shadows
of an arb r, and awaited his return with
painful anxiety. ‘

Slowly the moments passed. Fifteen—
twenty minutes—and still she sat there.
waiting for her lover, and the good or bad
news he was to bring. The suspense grew
torturous.

At last he came, still bearing in his hand
the bouquet she had giVen him, and his
handsemc featurcs—handsome because they
indicated a rctined intellect and noble soul——
wore an expression that betokened naught of
discouragement to her eager heart.

“ The answer, Victor? The answer?" she
cried, starting forward, and throwing her
arms about his neck. “ Tell me quick—is it
life, or is it death?”

“Life, dearest!” he replied, in
voice. “Look up.
cited."

“What did he say, Victor?” she con-
tinued. joyously.

“ (tome, Pauline, be seated, and I will tell
you in a few words. "

\Vhen they were seated in the perfumed
boWer from which she had run to meet him,
he said.

“ I went to your father, and without hesi-
taney or parley, plainly told him of our love.
I told him how we had learned to live in
each other‘s affection with a fondness that
would render a blight of our hopes next to,
and more painful than, death. I made him
aware of how this love had sprung up~how,
since the night we met in the crowded bail-
room, we knew the same star of destiny
illumined our paths. IIc listened attentively
until I had concluded, and then, very natur-
ally, it was his turn to speak, to ask ques-

tions.”

happy
Don’t become so ex—

“ 0h. Victor! and what did he say? Was
be angry, or unpleasant in an way?"
“Not at all. He exhibite the oliteness

of a gentleman, and the solicitudeo a parent.
He asked me if I was secure enough in my
position to warrant my marrying, and if my
salarjy was sufficient for all expenses.”

“ nd you said—"

“ I said yes. In addition, I mentioned
that I ex cted shortly to be even better sit-
uated. e seemed satisfied, but at the same
time reminded me that there was another

Pauline’s gaze drooped to the grassy
carpet. .

“ There was another suitor, my love;
yetf. you were at liberty to choose for your—
sel .”

“ Did he say that?

I‘ Yes."

“ 'l‘hat other suitor is our guest—Hallison
Blair, I suppose?”

This with a all rht shudder.

“ The same. our father told me so."

“ I have suspected for a. long time that he
loves me; or, rather, professes to that end,”
and her face was upturned to his as he

ressed her to him, and said, interrogative-

Ohl are you sure ?"

y“ But you will not be at a loss to make the
chOice?”

“ No, Victor, not
on this earth whom I love besides pa.
yours alone."

“God bless you, pet! and may I never, by
word or action, give you cause to repent the
holy trust you ave placed in me by those
words. The splendor of this day is but a
reflection of the light that fills my heart since
I know that you are mine till death. I never
knew real happiness until this moment, for l
realizes. bliss intended to last forever in this
life.”

With what unusual swiftness the minutes
fleeted by unheeded, as the lovers sat there,
whispering anew their mutual troth!

It was high noon when Victor first awoke
from the sweet dream in which they were
wrap)? and starting up, he exclaimed: ,
1 “ by, really, 1 had no idea it could be so

ate!”

Pauline consulted her watch. Quarter to
twelve was the time.

“ Are you going now, Victor?"

“ Yes. I must be 03. I'll return again this
evening. By-by, darling.”

You are the only one
I am

 

One more embrace, a warm kiss, and he
left her.

He had scarce taken a dozen steps, when
Pauline detected the approach of some one
from the opposite side of the arbor; an i,
turhing quickly, dlSCtiVCl'ed Calvert IIertr
don's guest—Ilallison Blair.

This man was an Englishman, though
strikingly dark in features, and with mus-
tache and goatce of jet-black. His eyes were
of a brownish color, brilliant and fascinating.
In figure, he was handsome, rather slender,
anti, in all, not one to prove disagreeable in
the sight of those who admire exquisite taste
and display.

Pauline looked after her retreating lover,
half-persuaded to call him back; then at
the one who was coming toward her, and
with a creeping, inexplicable feeling sunk
down upon the bench from which she had
arisen.

When he drew nigh, his dark eyes sparkled
with a subtle brightness, his white, regular
teeth Were visible as he smiled in his bland
manner, and said:

“Ah! Miss llerndon, you are alone, I
pereeiVe? I have been waiting quite a little
while for an opportunity to speak with you
privately,” he continued, seating himself
ntar her, "but Mr. Ilassan seems to have
enjoyed the exclusive monopoly of your
socrety.” .

Pauline drew back from him.

“ You seem afraid of me. Am I ugly or
repulsive?”

“ ()h, no.” was her brief answer.

“As I said, I have waited patiently for
this opportunity. I desired to speak with
you alone, upon a subject that has long
reigned uppermost in my thoughts. Can
you not guess what it is?”

Ills gaze was lost upon her, for she kept
her eyes upon the green flower-stems with
which she toyed, and returned, simply:

“How should I?”

CHAPTER II.
A PROMPT REPLY. ‘

"How should you?” be repeated. “ You
are a woman, Miss Herndon, with a woman’s
quick perception, and aptitude at learning by
one’s actions, the motive which governs them.
Can you, then, say you have been, and are
wholly blind to my feelings, which I must
have betrayed ere this?”

Hitherto, he had been content, apparent-
ly, with feasting his eyes upon her beauty,
and hearkening to the sweet tone of her
voice, and this had afforded her a blessed
respite, considering she lived in constant
fear of his approaches. But now, the hand-
some Ilallison Blair was touching closely
upon the subject of his affection, and gradu-
ally approaching a positive declaration.
Her eyes raised not to meet his. She knew
the subtle power of their brilliancy; for, on
more than one occasion she had been me-
mentarily transfixed beneath his fascinating
gaze, and at these times an involuntary
chill crept over her. He drew nearer and
pursued:

“I would have returned to my home in
England, many months ago, but for the. re-
taining charm of which I speak. There has
been a magnet, as it were, which held me
fast as a responsive needle.” His voice was
low, gentle.

She remained silent—mustering her ener-
gies for an abrupt refusal, when he should
plainly ask her hand.

“Miss Herndon—Pauline, 1—”

“Sir!”

“Forgive me.

 

I must call you by that

name. V am too wild to refrain from utter-
ing it. Pauline Herndon, I lave you. idollze
you. Beyond the sea I have a gorgeous

home, surrounded by wealth and luxury, in
which you shall reign as my queen, with
every thing you can wish for to make you
happy. I will worship Orv—hasten .to ac-
complish your slightest. caire, do all in my
power to render your exxstence a pleasant
pastime. Your wants shall be my pleasure;

our contentment. my chiefest aim. Speak
but one word; say that you can love me,
will' be my cheris ed Wife, and I am salts
fled to yield up ten years of my life. Will
you be mine?” .

He had taken her hand in his own, press-
ing it tightly. bending over to gaze into her
lovely face; and his ardent syllables wen
softly whispered to her unwdling ear.

- «HM.

 

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i

 

 

   
 

»...‘ ~A-‘ .—
\

 

 

With a uiek motion she released herself,
and starte up. She had nerved herself for
this, and replied emphatically, while the
blood mantled to her temples

“Mr. Blair, I not only decline your offer
of marriage, but give you to understand that
I am already engaged. EVen if I Were not
the betrothed of another, my answer would
be the same. I do not like you. I hope
this is definite enough," and she turned to

o.

g “Stop!” hurriedly spoke Blair, placing
himself directly in her path, while his dark
eyes fairly scintillatcd with anger. and his
utterance seemed choked. “ You wholly re-
ject my suit?”

“ I have given my answer.”

“And this pennilcss boy, this Victor IIas-
sari, whom I just now saw leave you, is,your
accepted lover?”

“As you took the pains to watch our
movements” she rctorted without reserve,
noting his rise if anger, “perhaps I might
be right in drawing the inference that you
also played eavesdropper. If so, I hope you
were entertained pleasantly with our con-
versation."

“ I repeat—7w is the fortunate suitOr?”

“I do not deny it. I am proud in his
love."

“Are you aware that your father favors
me?”

"Not more so than he does Mr. Hassan.
In fact, rmit me to state, my father has
pl‘iVllch( me to choose my own husband;
my choice rests with Mr. IIassan.”

“ lie is a conceited fop."

“A man who does not possess a rational
amount of conceit, lacks one of the essential
attributes of true manhood, Mr. Blair. But
I think, sir, you are forgetting your educa-
tion as a gentleman. Such language con-
cerning Mr. Hassan, is an insult to me.”

He reddened the more, and persisted:
“ You had best reconsider your answer, Miss
Pauline."

“The answer I have given must suffice

for all time. Have the kindness to let me
pass."
, “Oh, certainly; I shall not detain you
longer against your will. But I have this to
say: I promise you, Pauline Herndon, that if
power on earth can accomplish it, you shall
yet be my wife!"

The calmness of this final speech contained
a terrible significance to her; but he stepped
aside, bowing courteously and she swept past
him to the house. -

Pauline, when she entered the house, im-
mediately sought her father. He was in the
front parlor, and, going to his side, she knelt
down b him, resting her head upon his knee,
and sob audibly.

“Why, my little bird, what do you cry
for?” he inquired, tenderly resting a hand
upon her wavy tresses.

“Oh, pa, I am so happyl—and still so
miserable l”

“ Happy and miserable in the same
moment!” he exclaimed, an indulging
smile about the corners of his mouth—a
mouth from which had come soft lullabys
and nonsense to amuse the Caroling babe,
who now was grown to appreciate his early
kindness, and be a sole and cheering light to
his hfe.

“Impossible, my child! People do not feel
happy and miserable at once. It must be some
rare cause,” and he laughed lightly.

“But, pa," she said, looking up at him
through her tears, “it is so with me. I am
joyous as a thoughtless bird. in the knowl-
edge that you have permitted me tochoose
Victor for a husband. I love him dearly.”

“ You have decided upon that point, then i”
he interrupted, playfully.

“Yes—yes. I did not hesitate when he
told me your answer to him.”

"Then. that is settled. I hope you may
both be very happy.”

.“Then, a, on were more in favor of
him than r. al—Haliison Blair?"

“ Undoubtedly so, my dau hter. Though
 Blair comes from a fam iy who ranked
high in En land. His father was an Earl.
I first m 0 his acquaintance some eight
yearsago, while your mother and I were
traveling in Europe—you were at boarding-
~school at the time—and I opined ou might,
fierhaps, prefer the title of y Hallison

lair to p sin Mrs. Victor Hassan."

 

“ Title i—Lady Hallison Blair!
you mean, pa?”

“I have never mentioned the fact to you,
my little Pauline, nor has he, I judge. He
is an English nobleman, inheriting the lord-
ly title from his father."

“This is really news to me."

“I presume so. But it will make no dif-
ference. Iguess you and Victor will love
one another as fondly as if he boasted high
lineage.”

“More so, pa.
Blair.”

“You know your own heart best. I
have always held to the determination of
letting you select for yourself when you be-
came of proper age.
Blair—as he is known here—that, if he could
persuade you to love him, he had my consent
to the marriage. I am thoroughly satisfied
as it is. Mr. Hassan I esteem highly. and
when I questioned him regarding his capa-
bility of supporting a wife, it meant noth-
ing. A111 possess shall go to make you
happyf’

" 011, pa, you are so kind!"

What can

I could never love Mr.

“And now, puss, what is your miserable :

portion?”

Again the pretty head was nestled on his
knee. and fresh tears dimmed the luster of
her eyes.

“Mr. Blair has spoken to me of his love
only a few minutes since."

" Yes? Then you told him of your
premier engagement, and of course it ended
there.”

“No, pa, it did not end there. He per.

sisted, even after I told him that Victora

possessed my heart and promise.”

“ He importuned you after that i"

"Yes. He stOod before me and pressed
his suit till the sound of his voice became
tiresome. And his eyes, pal—they looked
stran e."

“ as he impertinent. Pauline?" and Cal-
vert IIcrndon’s brow darkened.

“ Not imperiinent; but, oh! he said some
thing that fixes itself strangely upon my
mind as a dread omen.”

“ What was his speech?"

“He said that ‘if ower on earth could
accomplish it. I shoul yet be his wife.‘ "

“ What! He said that, and you tell me he
was not im ertinent? What could be his
meaning? will seek him, and demand im-
mediate explanation!"

“No, no,” pleaded Pauline, clinging to
him, as he started up to carry out his inten-
tion, “don’t go. Let it pass. He could
have meant nothing. Perhaps he spoke
hastily, before he could check the sentence
which was called to his lips upon the sudden
realization that I had rejected him. Let i
pass; please do, for my sake." '

He sunk back into his chair, with the in-
quir :

“ hat more did he say i”

“ He spoke of Victor as a top—a man un-
fitted to be my husband," answered Pauline,
hesitatingly, for she saw that her father was
considerably agitated at this account of his
guest‘s behavior.

“And if Victor knew this,” exclaimed the
old gentleman, “I’ll wager that he’d cow-
hide Mr. Blair, in default of satisfactory
apology!”

“ It shall be my endeavor to keep it from
Victor, and I want you to do the same, pa.
I don’t think Mr. Blair will forget himself a
second time.”

“Very well; I will be content to pass it
by, for your sake, my little Pauline. But if
anything like it occurs again, Ishall take im-
mediate steps to inform him that his further

resence is distasteful to me. Maybe I'll go
yoad that. ’

At this juncture the door-bell tingled, and
presently a servant entered, bearing it
upon a salver.

Glancing at the name, Herndon read,
“ Gulick Brandt, M. D.,” and instantly or-
dered that the visitor be admitted.

“Excuse me for a little while, my child,”
he said, assisting her to rise. “I desire a
private interview with the doctor. ”

Pauline withdrew, passing the comer in
the hall, who bowed upon seein her; and
in a few seconds Doctor Gulick I3randt en-
tered the parlor, Where Herndon, remaining
seated, awaited him.

“Ah! good-day, Mr. Herndon,” said the
physician; “I hope I find you well. "

I told Mr Iirillisou‘

Detective Fleet ofjiondon. 3

 

 

“Quite well, thank you. I have been
wishing to see you for several days past.
You have kept yourself rather aloof from us
lately.”

“That’s a fact,” returned Brandt. “I
admit I have neglected to call with my ac-
customed regularity. But, you see. there’s
been some extraordinary cases of fever de-
manding my attention, and I’ve been unable
to get around. You look well," he said,
drawing a long breath.

i “ I accept your excuse; wait, doctor; you
" may think it queer that I did not ask you to
be Seated when you came in. I desire to
speak with you privately. Let us go to the
library.”

Doctor Brandt followed the merchant from
the room, though a lack of promptness was
plainly noticeable in his steps, and be ap‘
peared to be somewhat uneasy, glancing at
Herndon closely.

CHAPTER III
THE TELLTALE NOTE.

Doeron GULICK BRANDT was a rather
fshort, stout personage. with broad shoul-
; dcrs, light blue eyes, florid complexion, and
head very nearly hald.

Ilis acquaintance with the Herndon family
was of long standing, he having filled the
ofiiee of their regular physician for several
years.

Calvert Herndon had first taken a liking
to him on account of his brief, concise man-
ner of transacting business, and conversa-
tion; and from an ordinary acquaintance
there had sprung up an intimate personal
friendship. '

The merchant had ofttimes consulted with
him, when in receipt of solicitations to in-
vest in private speculation, after retiring
from business, and invariably found in his
advice solid sense and sterling whys and
wherefores.

On this occasion, however, Herndon seemed
moodil thoughtful, and Brandt missed the
cordiahty with which he was wont to be re-
ceived at the home mansion.

When they reached the library, the doc-
tor was motioned to a seat. and the mer-
chant advanced to a desk, from a drawer
of which he took a roll of parchment. This
he placed upon the table, and drawing up
achair, said, while untying the tape around
it:

“You have seen this before, Doctor
Brandt?"

“ Yes; I should think so. It’s your will. I
believe. I am one of the witnesses."

“More than that, I had selected you as my
executor.”

“Indeed? You surprise me!”

“I say I had selected you,” continued
Herndon, laying marked emphasis on his
speech. “_I have since altered my mind,”
and with this he quickly tore the will into
ahundred pieces, casting them in a shower
upon the fiber.

The doctor had started forward to prevent
the act of mutilation, but checked himself
and asked:

“ What is that for?"

' “Because, sir, you are a villain.”

“ Sir!”

The two men were upon their feet; each
looked sternly upon the other; a collision
seemed imminent. Gazing thus in silence,
for a second only, Herndon resumed his seat,
saying, briefly:

“ Sit down, sir.”

Brandt did as requested, but steadfastly
returned the hard, shar ,searching glance
of the merchant, and waited for an explana-
tion.

“ Doctor Brandt, I said you were a villain;
you wish me to explain?”

“As a gentleman, and your equal, I de
mand that at once.”

“Very well; you shall have it. Wait.
It has not been until very recently that my
eyes have been opened to the inoc garb of

iety and friendshi which ou have worn
n my presence; an in the isoovery made,
so unexpectedly, 1 see you as you really
are—a hypocritical scoundrel; double-faced
rascal!”

“Mr. Herndon, I cannot tolerate this; I
am astonished; 1—"

“ Stop. You want an explanation of u by
I think you a villain. Now 1 am going to

 

 

.,‘

. .x

, .

 A
A;

4 ' Detective Fleet of London.

 

 

give it you.
day you apprised me of a scheme in the
busineSs market, in which money could be
invested to an almost certain guarantee of
netting», in the returns, over one hundred per
cent. profit. It was something new; had
originated in a circle composed of some of
the leading commission merchants of Phila-
delphia. As I had d0ne, on many similar oe-
casions before, I asked your advice in the
matter, and, though 1 failed to note it then,
I distinctly remember now, you betrayed an
extraordinary pleasure that I again solicited
your counsel. You advised me to enter;
still, ou wanted a short time to consider, to
look into the matter, and you would give me
a definite opinion. This was on last Monday.
On Tuesday last I stepped in at the United

States Hotel to see an old friend of mine, 1

who had just arrived from New York. The
coach was departing at the moment for the
Boston train. and, as the last passed er took
his seat, he drew his handkerchief rom his
pocket.

pavement. I saw it; I immediately picked

it up; [called to him; he did not hear me, '
and in a few seconds the lumbering coach l
He had , the former.

whirled beyond hailing distance.
lost a letter; I had found it. It was directed l
to one Hank llankcns. of Boston. The chi- 1
rography struck me as familiar. but I gave 1’
no second thought to it, placing the lost ar- ‘
ticle in my pocket, and intending to forward i
an advertisement to some Boston paper as!
soon as I left the hotel. , ‘

“Seeking my friend, we seated ourselves l
fora cozy chat. After a while I spoke of j
the incident. and what had come into my
posseSsion. Very naturally. he asked me to 
let him look at it. I di-l so. He no sooner I
Saw the name on the envelope than he uttered 
a surprised exclamation.

“ ‘ Why,’ said be, ‘this is directed to one
of the most notorious swindlers that ever dis- ,
graced, by presence, the good city of Bos- 
ton. lknow his reputation well. He is a

ardoned counterfeiter; lives now by play-
ing the sharp game. Let’s examine the con".
tents.’

' “‘ I endeavored to dissuade him from this; ’
he declared there could be no harm, consid- :‘
ering who it belonged to—a scoundrcl of the 
first water—and, as he extracted and perused 5
the letter, he read aloud while I listened.
Doctor Brandt, my heart was wrung. M g
friend’s astonishment was unbounded. I I
have that letter with me. You shall hear I
it'DD .

He produced the epistle from an inner'
pocket, and read aloud as follows:

“ ‘ PHILADELPHIA, June —, 18—.
“‘HANK HAWKENS, Esq.:——

” ‘ Sim—I write to state that, knowing.
you will be in town shortly, through a 
mutual friend, I am situated in such a way 1
as to be able to place a neat few thousand or i
so in your pocket. Being toterably acquaint-
ed with your habits, I do not hesitate in ,
making the following offer: I am intimate ‘
with one Herndon, who resides on the Ger- ‘
mantown road, just beyond Philadelphia
(this city)—'—a wealthy gentleman, with whom i
I sway considerable influence, and who
would readin act upon my advice, if I
would propose his investin several thou-l
sands .in a rare scheme. on understand. 5
If you will pledge me one half and Silence, I ‘
.can persuade him to advance asum of money ,
to you, byrepresenting you as presrdent of
the new ring. Please answer, stating at
what hour, and where, I can meet you on

In doing so, something fell to the 1

When you visited me the other to your dirty plans, and the express object quest, went out from the library, she raised

of your visiting me today, Monday, was to her eyes for a moment to those of Hallison

advise my entering into this scheme~which  Blair

is a sham, gotten up with a view to your in-
dividual interest, and the gain of this Bos-
ton swindler. It is a plan to rob me—rob a
friend; nothing less. I know our relative
positions now, Doctor Gulick Brandt, and
henceforth we are strangers. I have showed
you that I know you to be a villain, now
leave my house, and never darken door of
mine again.”

“I shall not go, sir, until you have given
me a chance to prove that you are mistaken
in this matter,” said the physician. “ I have
held neither epistolary nor verbal communi-
cation with any sueh person as Hank lIawk-
ens, as you call him.”

“ I think otherwise. I have proof before
me," tapping the letter in a Conclusive style.
“ I want no explanation from on whatever.
I have had my say, and again order you to
leave my housel"

Brandt's red face grew redder as he re-
turned, unflinchineg, the stern gaze of the
merchant.

“I will not go until you hear me," began

“I will not hear you; go!"

Yet, though the owner of the house
pointed to the door, Brandt moved not, but
said:

“That letter is strange to me—”

“Leave this room. this house, instantly,

. sir, or_I may forget that I am on my own

premises. 1 once more command you, go!
If you do not, I may be tempted to lay vio-
lent hands upon you. I have been hurt,
grieved; now I am angered, dangerous to be
trifled Willi. Will you hegone‘.’”

“Strike. me if you dare!" ('ricd Brandt,

' “and you’ll rue this day.”

He saw that it was useless to remonstrate,
and now spoke defiantly.

The words were scarce uttered when Hern-
d0n, with an alacrity unusual in one of his
years, sprung upon the physician, and struck
him several blows in the face.

But he had erred in judging his adversary,
for Brandt seized a favorable opportunity,
and planted his fist between the other’s eyes,
with such force as to send him reeling across
the apartment.

It would not have ended here but that
the door was burst open at this critical
juncture, and Pauline bounded into the
room.

Doctor Gulick Brandt turned to hurry out
and encountered Hallison Blair. The Eng-
lishman smiled as he whispered:

“ Well done, doctor; you did me a great
favor in that.”

Calvert Herndon was partially stunned by
the blow he had received, but walked to a
sofa, sunk down upon it, and Pauline
clung to him, beseeching him. in trembling,
anxious tones, to tell her if he was much in-
jurcd.

“No, my child,” he replied to her in-
quiries, “merely a blow that has confused
me. The scoundrel matched me well, it
seems. Has he taken himself away?” .

“0h. es. he's gone," answared a VOice,
and Paul ne, turning her head, exclaimed, as
she saw the Englishman: »

“ You here?”

“Why,” he remarked, nonchalantly. “I
was behind you when you came in here.”_

“ How happened it that you arrived
upon the scene, my daughter?” Herndon
asked. .

“I was passing the librar , pa, coming

Sui-“MW evening Dex“. J from my room, when I hear angry words

“Is this familiar to you?" questioned
Herndon, when he had concluded.

“ No, sir, it is not. And I do not under
stand an thing satisfactory from what you
have said?"

“ This letter is signed, ‘ G. B.’ "

“That counts nothing. It may signify
Gun Barrel, Green Bottles, Game Bag, or

.anything of equal unimportanee." '

“Yet: I see in the signature, Doctor
- Gale's/c Brandt f” .

“Do you mean to charge me, Ctalvert
Herndon, with being the author of this let-
ter?" demanded Brandt, his cheeks redden-
ing, paling, either from chagrin or desperate
anger, upon recognizing the fact that the
merchant was unwavering in his suspicion.

“I do, sir. No doubt you have heard
from Hank Hawkens ere this, he agreeing

between you and Doctor Brandt. I came in
, as soon as I could turn the knob.”
l “And I was going to my room,” added
' Hallison Blair, “ when I saw Miss Pauline
l disappear in here, and noticed that her
lactions were somewhat excited. I arrived
" opposite the door, only in time to see my
' dear friend. Mr. Herndon, staggering to the
l wall. I am dull at comprehension, else I
‘ would have collared the physician, who was
‘ gone ere I could understand the situation of
affairs.” . '

1 “Well, well,” continued the merchant,
soon recovering himself entirely, “let the
affair drop. He will never enter my house

again. There, Pauline, you may go now,”
(kissin her fair brow). “Think no more of
it. I esire to be alone ”

As Pauline, in compliance with his re-

 

He was gazing at her with intense
steadfastness, and a momentary shudder
possessed her. .,

She descended to the lunch-hall, while
Blair continued on to his room.

He smiled and chuckled lightly as he closed v
his door, and muttered:

“Aha! Pauline; I vowed that you should I
be mine in spite of all the Victor Hassans
who may swarm the globe! I meant it: I
mean it still! I have now only to unwind
the cord, and, with skillful management,
W111 find no knots. You shall yet be
mine!"

CHAPTER IV.
THE DEADLY I’ASTILLE.

WHEN night set in——a night as beautiful
in its starry radiance as had been the glori-
ous days; while the full golden moon pour-
ed down her soft rays through foliaged trees
and on the sleeping flowers—nine o'clock
had come, and Calvert lIerndon sat alone
in his library wmpt in the perusal of sundry
documents, which he took from, and return—
cd to, successively, and alternately, the desk
of many pigeon-holes before him.

After awhile, he took up a manuscript that
bore a fresher look than the others, and as he-
read this, an apparent emotion was traced
upon his features.

“Ah!” he mused, “ who would have
dreamed that. in Doctor Brandt, a man I
have esteemed and trusted for years, and
made my confidant, I would discover so base
a hypocrite! I had chosen him my execu—
tor, and imagined that my choice was good.
Providence has certainly smiled upon me, in
unmasking him, ere my little Pauline lived
without a father. Had my moner and es-
tate once passed into his control, fear my
child would have existed drearily in the cold
world. Now, I hurried about the prepara-
tion of this last will; have it witnessed cor-
rect; and in the event of my death, Pauline
and Victor are well provided for. I had fore- t
seen that she loved young IIassan.”

He slipped the parchment back into"its
pigeon-hole, and then leaned upon the arm—
rests of his chair, becoming absorbed in rev-
eries. As the moments floated by, his e e-
lids grew heavy; his head drooped upon is
breast; he slept. The house was Silent. No
rounds were heard in hall or passage. The
servants had retired; an ominous stillness
prevailed. _

Suddenly, in the glimmerin gaslight, a
face ap ared above the sill of t e open win-
dow. hen followed a pair of shoulders, and
a man gazed in.

Assuring himself that the merchant was
oblivious to his presence, the intruder swung
lightly into the room, and stood motionless,
to see if his advent had disturbed IIerndon’s
slumber. Then, on tiptoe, be advanced to
the desk, and cautiously drew forth the

parchment Herndon had placed there a few

minutes before. Placing it in his pocket,
he turned, stooped down, and hurried]
gathered up the slips and bits of the muti’
lated will, which lay where they had been
thrown in the morning. These were also
placed in his pocket. Pausing for a second,
to again make sure he had not been discov-
cred, the intruder went to the merchant’s
side, and, exercising an art that would have
done credit to a practical pickpocket, pur-
loined from the sleeper’s person a number of
letters. One of these he kept and returned
the others to their place.

Another glance at Herndon’s face—immo-
bile in its deep re se—and he PTOduced 9-
tiny pastille, fired t ePOinmd cone, and set
it u on the desk.

T is done, he retlgnfied ttcil tits window,

wun uietl Out, 08 0 111g e on 11 of a
Enajesgtig treg’ which had been the Ideas of
his entree and exit, and slid to the ground.
The pastille burned; a minute wreath of blue
smoke slowly ascended, and soon a fragrant
aroma began to fill the apartment. ,At first,
this was pleasant, but as itincreased, and the
atmosphere grew denser, the inhalation as.
sumed a suffocating odor, which thickened
till the senses sickened under it.

Herndon slept on. The pastille burned
lower and lo“ er. The cloud of vapor be-
came cloying in its curious smell.

 

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The merchant’s respiration sounded heav-
ier as he unconsciously breathed toe obnox-
ious perfume. His face gradually whitened;
be moved restlessly.

Suddenly came a twitching of the nerves;
the jaw dropped; the breathing ceased.

The pastille now lay in an ashen heap,
while its smoke floated slowly toward the
window and out upon the pure night air,
where it evaporated completely.

The night passed on, as if naught had
happened to mar its solitude. and when again
the bright sun mounted to the heavens, those
who bustled about the grand Home Mansion,

dreamed not of the dread discowry that was i

in store. .
Pauline, looking lovely as the morn itself.

was seated at one of the long, low vine-clad .

windows in the parlor, gazing out upon the

grass and flowers as they swayed in the mild. ‘

scented breeze. Her face was expressive of
a silent yearning. Victor ilassan, contrary
to her expectations, and his own promises,
had not called again to see her on the after-
Jnoon of the day previous. Had he forgotten
ier?

“ Pshaw!" she murmured, within herself.
“I am foolish. Some unexpected business
dut detained him.”

Y’et, she wished he had come, despite all
other pressing engagements

By and by, her musings fell into another 3

channel. She thought of what had happen-
ed between her father and Doctor Brandt;
she remembered the angry dialogue, to
which she had been a patient listener; and
finally. as she reflected the more, she won-
dered in proportion, as to what had given
rise to this abrupt enmity between them.
Doctor Brandt, she knew, had always oeeu-
pied a position of highest esteem. in the eyes
of her father; and the affair seemed more
than ever strange, owing to the fact that
Calvert Herndon had volunteered no' ex-
planation of the difficulty.

Her reveries were broken by the sound of
a light footfall on the rich carpet, and quick
tly turning, she was amazed at sight of liai-
lison Blair, \\ ho twirled his glossy mustache
between his fingers, smiled blandly, bowing

' as he remarked:

1' “ You seem to enjoy solitude, Miss Pau-
me.”
" Solitude is. at all times, preferable to the
society of those whom we dislike,” was her
cold rejoinder, resuming her absent study of
the spacious grounds.
“ You are looking very charming this

morning,"he continued, not displaying an t

inclination to notice the hint that his presence
was disagreeable; but as she made no return
to this, he went on:

“ You also portray, in your pretty face.
most perfect health. How is Mr. Herndon

this morning? I have not had the'pleasure

of seeing him yet."

 

r
l

“ You are cruel." -
“I am just to my position and my con-
: science.”
“ You wring my heart purposely.
“If performing my duty toward myself
‘ wrings your heart, then you must suffer.”

“ Pauline, reconsider.”

“ Never!” she answered, firmly.

The word had scarce left her lips when a
v commotion was heard upon the stairs in the
' hall, at the door, and two of her housvhold
' servants came rushing in, panting. out of

breath, each striving, in broken syllables, to

I speak intelligibly.
“What is the matter?" inquired Pauline,
t surpijisedly, gazing from one to the other.
i “Oh! mistress,” burst forth simultaneous-
ly, “ master’s dead !"
} Pauline paled, but did not under.~tand.
“ Dead! Who ‘2” was her hurried ques-
: tion. '
“ Why, the master—Mr. Herndon—your
3, father, sure.”
t A sense of dizziness came over her; a haze
I
I

swept across her vision; the room seemed
whirling in a confused vortex.
“ Dru/l!" was the involuntary exclamation.
, “Impossible! How?"
i “ Yes, tnissus, it’s true enough We went
into the library to dust up, thinkin', of
j course, he‘d be anywhere else than there just
now, but there he was, sure, a-sittin’ in his
t big chair, like a ghost, an' we knew he was
, dead—” '
i With a pained cry, Pauline sprung past
‘ them and bounded up the broad staircase.

iThe two girls, with mouths yawned, and‘

eyes distended in wondering curiosity, ran
after her; while the Englishman followed
leisurel ,twining and mingling his jeweled

his chin.
When he entered the library; nearly all

around, gaping and gazing upon the inotiOn-
less form of the merchant. ‘ ' ' '

Pauline, half-crazed with Sudden grief,
clung around his neck, and pleaded in vain for
. a word, a sentence of recognition. But, the.
ear of CaIVert Herndon was deaf, the lips
sealed, the heart paralyzed; be heard not,
spoke-not.  ’ " ”

At a command from the Englishman, the
room was cleared with the eXCeptioh'of one

lifeless body and carried it to a bedroom,
where they deposited it gently upon a soft
couch. Pauline kept close by them. weep-
ing bitterly, and apparently deprived of all
self-governing pOWer. Her heart had been
rent and torn at once, when she looked upon
E her father—marked the ashen lips that had

 

; given utterance to endearing words‘ only the
i da

before. .
t was so sudden, so terrible, so over-

“Nor have I," she replied, briefly, not I wlielming, her young spirit was crushed
deigning to notice his impudent liberty of | from out the gay apparelof a buoyant ex-

speeeh. which contained a more than simple
flattery.

“ And this Victor Hassan—I presume he is
well? The devil generally takes care of his
own."

She started to her feet. Did she dream?
How dared he make use of such language,
direct such words to her ear?

“ Mr Blair, {Su have overstepped all limit
to gentihtyt hat you can mean by, or
expect to acerue from this persistent, un~
gentlemanly behavior, I am at a loss to
imagine. You seem to forget that you are
merelya guest within this house, and under
obligations for the hospitality shown you.
I shall no longer tolerate your iuipudence.
I shall speak to my father, and have him
order you to leave immediately! Let me
pass. '

“ Nay, do not tear yourself away so
hastily!" be interrupted, in tones 0f 111001!
pleading, and stretching forth an arm to de-
tain her. “ I desire to whisper anew my
burning love—the passion of my SOUL the
chiefest hope of my life. It is the sole am-
bition of my heart to beat in the knowledge

that you can love me, and I cannot give you ‘

up. Will you listen to me?"

“Let me pass, Mr. Blair,” she requested,
determinedly. “I will not undergo the trial
of another scene like that which transpired
iu_the arbor yesterday. I never can, never
wul love you; so, you may cease your im~
portunities.”

‘ istence, and buried to the earth in deepest

despair. It was a transit from the bright,
treme opposite—sorrow, anguish,
She was alone.

The serving-man withdrew, leavimr her
and Hallison Blair sole occupants of the
ropim, besides the statue-like form upon the
be

The Englishman stood close by her, as if
to obtrude upon her sorrow. The pale face
of the griefvstrickeu one was turned upon
him, though her voice failed, and thetear-
dimmed eyes spoke the beseeehing volumes
which the tongue refused.

More for p0 icy than consideration for her
heartrending woe, he departed, closing the
door after him. Descending to the ower
hall, Blair ordered the private family car-
riage, and seated himself, impatient y, to
wait.

When the mystified groom drew up the
restless grays at the front door, he got in-
side the conveyance, sa ing.

Drive to Doc-

 

“ Straight to Philade phia.
tor Bran t’s office on Spruce staeet. below
Tenth. Make haste!" and as the‘horses were
whipped up to a quick pace, he sunk back
‘ amid the cushions.

A smile of diabolical satisfaction settled
upon his handsome countenance; he patted
his foot, and muttered inaudibly of what ap
parently afforded him considerable pleasure
and hope. '

 

finger in the exquisitely orled goatee upon,

the servants of the mansion were standing»:

man, who remained at a sign to tha't’efleet, ‘
and Blair, with-his assistance, lifted the

blissful, sunny happiness of life to "its ex-'
isolation. +

 

CHAPTER V.
A spinsn‘s ws’ii.

Docron BRANDr’s office was at his resi-
dence on Spruce street, below Tenth, near
Madame Guillon‘s Academy for Ladies, and
in one of those buildings which eompri~e
Portico Row, with basement well suited t)
a lawyer or a physician; and On one of the
shutters of the front basement room was
tacked a sign:

“GULICK BRANDT, M. D."

The doctor was in his office, having just
returned from his customary morning round
of visits to his patients, and a young lad,
seated in a Corner, watched his employer
studyineg as the latter stood at the window,
thrumming upon the pane, and looking out
at the passersby. While thus mentally ab-
sorbed, a carriage drew up before the house
which he recognized as being from the Home
Mansion.

lie frowned at first, but his brow cleared
as iIallison Blair stepped out, and he saw
that the Englishman was alone. In a mo-
ment Blair entered; was greeted cordially;
invited to a chair.

“ I believe this is the first time you have
honored me with a call, Mr. Blair," remarked
the physician, as they seated tilt'mSOlVeS.

“ Yes," was the rejoinder. “ Do you live
here?" leisurely removing his gloves, and
tak'iir a survey of the room.

“ ell, yea. I rent a sleeping apartment
upstairs, and this office, from the family
that’bdcupies the house. Hope you are well
today?"

"Yes, thank on. Are we alone?" '

“ Yes; John, eave us—you desire to speak
with me privately, Mr. Blair?” ’

“ Ifyou please.” -
“And, John, if any one 'comes, have the
leave theirdirections. You can remain out-1

side titl. I can you." ' 3

When‘they'were alone, Ilallison Blair fixed
himself comfortably, and‘ gazing steadfastly:
at Brandt;'sai(i: .. - > ‘ 

“ Pretty—\x'cll—donc—doetor. ' You” did
that little, job to excellenee+pcrfection—
surety.” ' -

The physician looked at himin an incom-
preheniive way. 1 - '

“.Prett well dens? I-Iow pretty well
done? What pretty well done? I don't
see.“ -- '

“ Ha! ha! ha! he's dead enough this morn-
ing. You've got satisfaction!"

Brandt‘s eyes opened wider. -

"Dead ! who? Satisfaction for what?
How satisfaction?" ' ‘ -
“ {at hai no one would suspect it but
me."

“Suspect? Eitpiain." .

“Why, there wm quite a commotion at
the Home Mansion this morning, when Cal-
vert Herndon was found dead in his liv
brary.” .

" Calvert Herndon dead!” exclaimed the
physician, gazing incredulously at the
other ,

“Of course! I say you carried it out ad~
mirably," resumed the Englishman. _

“How sudden this is!" continued Brandt,
musingly. " I always thought him sound—
free from hereditary disease—”

“Pshawt what use is there in your play-
ing this part? I give you credit for the cun-
ning means you employed to kill him so
effectually, and without leaving any traces
of the deed."

“Calvert Herndon is dead. You think I
murdered him?"

"Precisely; or rather, I know, instead of
think it.”

"Mr. Blair, you surely dream," but a chill
coursed through his veins even as he spoke.

"No, I am wide awake."

“What can you mean? I murder him?
Heavens! I quarreled with the man, I know,
but I thought no more of him or the affair
after I left his house." '

“That Would hardl be credited by any
one,” rejoined Blair, ecidedly. “it is all
clear as day to those who know of your se-
cret quarrel. I happened to witness the
deed ”

There was a terrible calmness, or dread

"significance about the closing sentence which

penetrated the physician‘s ear with cutting
sharpness, notwithstanding its even utter-
ance

“You witnessed the act of murder—saw.

 

I""“3‘~’t;~*f- 3-31.; "

6

Detective Fleet~ of London. ‘

 

me do it!” and the face of the speaker was
more like that of a ghost than mortal. “ Am
I asleep or awake? This is a terrible
charge! It is a nightmare—I dream. I can
prove—”

He was about to say he could prove that
he had been in town throughout the whole
night; but suddenly remembered that he had
returned his horse to the stable shortly before
dark, and strolled leisurely about until the
doors of the Walnut Street Theater were
thrown open, when he went to that place of
amusement. When he came home, it was
late; the family in the house where he resided
had retired; he saw no one; no one saw him;
it. was impossible to prove otherwise than
that he had spent a portion of the night
either in Moyamensing, Richmond, or on the
Germantown road.

" I do not think you can prove anything,
doctor,” replied Blair, “for 1 saw you p0i<0n
Calvert Herndon by means of a pastille of
deadly odor. I have but to swearto that in
court, couple the testimony of those who
know of your late qu irrel with the deceased,
and it strikes me you will either swing or
serve out the balance of your life in the Peni-
tentiary. Hal ha! ha! you’ve made a miss
and a hit at the same time—a hit in murder-
ing your enemy, thus satisfying your insult-
ed honor; and you made a miss of it in per-
mitting me to see your every action. I don't
see how you could well help it, however;
of course you were not aware of my prox-
imity.”

The physician seemed deprived of pOWer
to articulate, remaining speechless and aghast.
Blair continued:

“As I said, though, nobody suspects. I
am the only one who could get you into a
deuced embarrassing difficulty. Now, I
am not anxious to do anything of that
kind.”

“But, Mr. Blair, I am innocent.”

“Stufll How far would your unbacked
oath go in acourt of law, with overwhelming
evidence opp08ed? Don't you see you are in

atight lace?”
Gulic Brandt hung his head with a
groan.

Here was a web woven around him, so
tangled, mazy, intricate, that he could not
extricate himself.

Hern on, with the aid of Hawkens, the swin~
dler, and had experienced all the natural
chagrin at his defeat, and expulsion from the

premises of a man whose confidant he had ‘

been for years. But, when char ed with
murder, it was a new and terrib e phase!
He trembled as he realized how utterly pow-
erless he was to establish his innocence; that
he was liable to the public ignominy of im-

risonment—perhaps execution upon the gal-
ows; and his freedom or bondage, life or
death, was balanced on a scale in the hands
of Hallison Blair.

The Englishman did not interrupt these
thoughts. He was sufficient] versed to read,
in part, what occupied the p ysician's mind,

and while he watched the latter closely, a ,

subtle smile, half sneerin g, half sardonic, yet
expressive of triumph. wreathed the corners
of his mouth. He held a poWer over Gulick
Brandt. He had come there to make known
that power, and to use it.

“ Do on realize the peril of your situa-
tion?” B)lair asked, as the wretched man
looked up.

“Yes,” was the broken reply. “Consid-
ering all you have said, I realize that I am
utterl in your power. My life actually
tremb es in your keeping. But I am inno-
cent—I swear it!”

“Hardl ,” was the malicious rejoinder,
spoken w th the air of one who feels a satis-
faction in having surmounted the first diffi-
cult in the ath toward a desired accom~
plis ment. hen he added. with emphasis:
" You are in my power, Gulick Brandt, but

ou are safe enough as ion as we can work
harmoniously together. y visit was for
another object besides showing you that I
am fully aware of your guilt. ’

For answer, Brandt vented a groaning
si h.

8“I was a listener to all that passed between
you and Herndon, yesterday. And, by the
by. that letter he had in his pocket. which
you wrote to Mr. Hawkens, of Boston, would

ave considerable weight against you, if

He acknowledged, in- I
ward] , his scheme to obtain the money from ‘

l

v placed in the hands of a smart lawyer.
' tunately for you, [have it.”

“ Ah! you have? ’

“Yes. safe enough. So you need appre-
hend no danger on that score —— exccpt
through me. Now, doctor, lIerndon had
intended to name you as his executor. He
tore up the will to that effect before your
eyes." ,

“I was sorry for that.”

“Certainly you were! But that matters
nothlng; you can still handle the Ilerndon
estate if you are so minded."

“ How ‘2”

“ ()h, I can manage it easily. Come,

now, I make you this proposition: I will
guarantee your being Calvert IIcrndon’s
executor; to have full charge of all that he
‘ leaves; promise to keep secret, the fact of
your having poisoned him with a pastiilc;
in consideration of which you are to sus-
hain and aid in everything I may see fit to
0")

“I do not understand,” said Brandt.

“Then I will explain. I love Pauline
Herndon with a passion next to idolatry.
She loathcs me. I am determined she shall
be my wife. Aid me in this all you can—I
1’ ask nothing more—and I will make good the
guarantee I have spoken.”

Brandt reflected a moment, and then agreed
‘ to the proposition. He could not do other-

wise. The alternative would be attended
with fearful consequences.
“Very good,” said Blair, when the other

made answer. “ Now, come. We’ll go to
, the Home Mansion. You can decide upon
l Herndon‘s death as one from heart disease.
and so report to the Board of Health.
Come.”
i They left the office and seated themselves
in the carriage, when, in Obedience to in-
" structions, the groom turned the horses’
heads homeward. As they rolled along, the
two discussed at length their alliance——an
alliance forced upon the physician hv stern
$16, in which the dark shadow Was Hallison
i lair.
I That Calvert Herndon might have died
suddenly did not seem beyond the confines
of probability; still it were strange, as no
hereditary disease was known to exist in the
family.

But the most crushing consciousness to
the mind of Gulick Brandt was that he
was stared in the face with a charge of mur-
derl

He was mystified, as well as startled; he
wondered how it was possible to implicate
him in the occurrence.

Whatever Were his thoughts, it was ap-
parent to him that, despite all accusations to
the contrary, he could be proven guilty, not
withstanding he was innocent! No use was
there to struggle, to combat the fated coil;
he yielded to the dictates of one who now
ruled with a power which his own know-
lfedge of men told him was the power of

ate. a

In due time they arrived at the Home
Mansion, and Blair immediately conducted
the physician to the room in which lay Cal-
vert Herndon.

Contrary to the Englishman’s expectations,

Pauline was not there. A servant, who lin-
i ered in the darkened apartment, informed
! film that she had retired to her boudoir and
solitude.

“ It isas well,” he thought. stepping asideas
Doctor Brandt bent over the motionless form
upon the bed.

He had scarcely glanced at the apparently
lifeless .body, when he turned qu 0 ly and
whis red:

“ by, he is not dead!"

“ ’Shi" admonished Blair, noting that the
servant was eagerly alert to catch their con-
versation; “he might as well be. A word
from you will be sufficient to make every-
thing straight. No one but a medical prac-
titioner could detect a spark of life in that
cold form.”

“Bury him alive!” exclaimed Brandt, in-
stantly com rehending the other’s meaning,
thou h spea ing still guardedly.

“ by not? What does it amount to?
Nothing. You speak the word, and he is
. out of your path. The way is open for you
i to control rest wealth. Why need you

hesitate? A i it is too late now to think of
resuscitatng him. I would not rermit it,
and, in case of an effort in that direction, I

For-

 

 

 

would at once set the law-hounds upon your
track.”

The physician turned from him with a
shudder. Should he obey the Englishman’s
command? Ah, he dreaded the exposure
threatened, and he feared the glitter of those
deep, dark eyes as they fixed upon him, as
the bird fea's the glitter of the steel-like
gleam of the deadly serpent. Yes, he in—
tensely feared the man!

“I See all plainly,” he said, aloud. “Mr.
IIerndon has died of heart disease. A sad
case—very sad. Where did you say your
mistress was?"

This question to the sewing-girl, whose
eyes were dimmed with tears of sorrow at,
loss of a beloved master.

‘ In her room, sir.”

“ Send her to me, in the parlor," ordered
the physician, in a calm, grave voice. “I
must, as is my duty, offer her consolation in
this sorrowful moment.”

The girl departed, and, no doubt, took op-
portunity on the way to communicate with
her companions in the household, telling
them what Doctor Brandt had said.

Hallison Blair smiled approvineg upon
the physician.

“ Well done, doctor—very cleverly spoken.
Each a prize if you maintain well your part [I
Remember, I watch and wait!”

Then an unbroken silence reigned.

“I told her, sir,” said the domestic, enr
tering the room after a few moments’ ab-
sence.

“Very well,” returned Brandt. “ You
ma remain here until I can relieve you.”

’lyhe two men left the apartment. Outside
the door the ph sician paused, saying, some~
what hesitating y:

“Is it possible for you to produce a will
which will appoint. me executor?"

“Possiblei IIa-hal Alltlu'ngsa/re possible
with me! Do you see to it that a will is need-
ed. by sending your intended victim to Laurel
Hill Cemetery, and I’ll see to it that you
alone shall handle all his wealth.”

They separated. Brandt descended the
stairs, and, in the hall, summoned a male
servant, whom he dispatched to the city for
an undertaker.

This attended to, he entered the parlor to
await Pauline.

CHAPTER VI.
A LETTER.

LIKE a rose deprived of sunlight, or its
allotted attention at Nature’s hands—the fair
bud drooped despondently upon the tender
stem—Pauline came into the room, her head
hung. and the bright luster of her e es
marred by flooding tears which no 9 ort
could force back. Doctor Brandt greeted

'her with soothing words, taking her hand

and leadng her to a sofa, where he seated
himself beside her.

“My dear,” he said, mildly, “try and
not give way to your grief so. Strive to-
bear up.”

“Oh Icannot help it,”shesobbed. “How-
can I be calm under such a blow ?"

“Iam very, verv sorry,” continued he,.
“but this is one of those inevitable occur-
rences in which we have no right to ques-
tion the motive of the Great Being in so-
willing.’

“I know it. But oh! it is so hard. I
wonder that I am not crazed. Have you.
(eiver known what it is to have a father

is?”

How simple, how pointed, and yet how
natural!

Brandt was silent. Here was a question,
a home-thrust, sinking deep into the re-4
cesses of his heart, which for a moment un-
manned him. Yes. he had known the sor-
row incident to witnessing the passage from
this life to death’s cold embrace of. a loved
parent—ay, father and mother in turn.
Pauline had struck a tender chord, and the
first impulse created in the emotion aroused
by he, inquiry was to tell her that her
father was not dead, and that he might be.

aved.
8 But, in the same flash of thought, came the:
dark shadow commanding him—the dread
monitor who haunted his soul like a terror—
avision of the Englishman checked the ut-
terance upon his lips—~words that could have.
turned Pauline’s mourning into happiness—-
and he said, instead:

“Yes, my dear, I have known the pang,

WM».

vzwntemesqz

is} . 231*‘1’ ‘- Y'—

j.

. at

Detective let of London.

7

 

 

and I can, therefore, fully sympathize with
you. But you must master your feelings
as much as possible. Though you have lost
a lovin and beloved parent, you still have
kind friends to comfort you in this bereave-
merit."

“Ifeel sure—I know I shall never want
for a warm friend while you live, doctor.”

“ Qute right. I shall evor guard your in-
terests.” he assured her.

“Father selected on for his executor, did
he not? I thought theard him say so at one
time.”

“ Y-y-yes—that is—I believe—yes, he
did.”

“I am glad of that.” l’auline continued,
“for I know he made a good choice. But,
Doctor Brandt, now that I remember, what
was there between you and my father that
led to the. trouble—~”

“ Didn’t he tell you?" be interrupted,

quickly.

“ No. Will you tell me?"

The physician breathed freer. Had she
known what caused the difiicult with Cal-

vert lIerndon, he thought, she in lit also be
aware of IIerndon’s destroying t e Will in
which he, Gulick Brandt, was appointed
executor.

“ Nothing, my dear; nothing much,” was
his anSW't‘l‘. “Your father misunderstood
something concerning me—and you know
his hasty temper"? Ile would not allow me
to explain. lIe forgot himself, much to my
regiet. and struck me. I had to strike him
in self-defense—there, there, I am wounding
you. I should have been more careful."

“No, no,” she said, amid a fresh lllll'et of
tears, “you do not wound me. I am glad
to hear it explained in some way, even
though it cuts me. Iknow pa was always
hast .” ./

“ r. Victor Hassan d' ires to see Miss
Pauline,” here announced a servant.

“Admit him—admit him at once!" she
cried, for the sound of her lover’s name was
joyful to her ear.

Victor Iiassan entered the parlor, and
having bowed courteously to Doctor Brandt,
he totally ignored that gentleman’s pres-
ence, clasping Pauline to him with affection-
ate tenderness.

“Pauline,” he asked, “what means this
dread silence about the house? Why is
eve thing so hushed? I saw crape upon
the oor——"

“ Death,”was the one whispered. tremulous .

word of answer that interrupted him.

“ Who, Pauline?”

“My father, Victor. Oh! he‘s dead—he’s
dead!" and she completely broke down, pil-
lowing her head upon his breast.

The young man was staggered at, this in-
telli ence, and glanced at the physician in-
quir ugly.

“ Mr. Herndon died last night. of heart
disease. it was not known till this morning,
when the servants found him in his library,”
explained Brandt.

“This is sudden and terrible!” exclaimed
Victor; then to Pauline: “ Don’t cry so, dar-
ling. Let me soothe you if I can. Come,
sit down.”

Doctor Brandt excused himself, and left
them. Just outside the door he encountered
Hallison Blair, whose face wore an expression
of an rer, while he hissed:

“ hat did you come out for? They’ll bill
and coo like doves; while I, who love her
more than life, must be quiet witness of their
devotion to one another!"

“  proper sense of delicacy prompted me
to Withdraw, Mr. Blair. If you choose to
eavesdrop, and then cry a ainst What you
see and hear—I cannot help t,”aud with this
the Englishman was alone. '

When Victor and his betrothed seated
themselves, the former said:

“This is sorrowful indeed, dearest, but
strive to check your grief. It is all for the
pest. Providence works nothing but what

s just.”
“1" 011. VictOrl” and she could speak no fur-
er,

“I could not come yesterday afternoon. as
I promised,” he Continued. “ My employer
had some important priVate business to look
after, which no one but myself could thor-
oughly understand, But for this I would
have hastened to you. Little did I antici-

pate what news would greet me when I did
come.”

 

“ I knew it must be something of that kind
which detained you, dear Victor.”

And then their conversation fell into other
channels.

From the lover came words of tender con-
solation to the bereaved one; sentences were
ponied into her ear soothing as oil on
troubled waters. None other than a lover
could speak the condolence, whisper the
solace, which brought a balm in their very
sound; and as she listened, she felt her
weight of woe lightened by the sincere and
adequate sympathy tuned in the soft strain
of pure affection.

When the moment at last arrived for Vic-
tor to depart, he arose. saying:

“ ()ur marriage, darling, must necessarily
be postponed.”

“ Yes, Victor,” she assented.

“I can wait,” continued he, seeming loth
to leave her, “until the proper time. It
willnot be so hard to delay our happiness,
Considering it is by Heaven‘s decree. And,
besides, I know our love will live as true.
unvarying, till I can claim you for my
own.”

“I am yours now, Victor.
delay I shall think of you constantly.
will not have to wait so very long.”

“ Good-by, then, Pauline,” and with a last
parting embrace, he was gone.

Ile did not notice the shadow which
crouched close in a convenient niche as he
passed out; and when the door closet! after
him, Iiallison Blair muttered between his
clinched teeth: ,

“Ay, Victor Hassan, but the delay will
be for long—you will have to wait longer
than you imagine to claim Pauline Herndon
for a wife. She is mine. No power on
earth shall keep her from me!”

The Englishman then entered the parlor.
Pauline stood where Victor had left her.
Her head was drooped forward. and in her
fancied solitude she sobbed violently, bury-
ing her face in her tear-wet handkerchief.
But the coming step arouscd her as it drew
near. She looked up; the pallor of her fea-
tt.res deepened as she saw who was with
her, for beneath the garb of disinterested
sympathy lurked a dread something which
shone in Blair’s eyes like the light of a ser-
pent gaze.

“1 come to condole with you,” he said,
advancing close to her.

“ Oh! Mr. Blair, please leave me. Let me
be alone.”

“ But,” he pursued, “you will not deprive
me of the privilege to offer sympathy in this
sore trial which is brought upon you? '

“I would mdch rather be alone. I am
afraid of you, Mr. Blair—not as one strong
man fears another who is stronger, but be-
cause my heart trcmbles when I am in your

But in this
\Ve

compan ."
He hit his lip. but said:
“Be seated. I have something to say to

on."

" Oh! do not importune me. with your
love! Have Some consideration!" she cried.
pleadingly, while the tears so mazed her
vision that she could scarce see him t.) whom
she spoke.

“Nay, you are worrying yourself iinnee.---
sarily,” he interrupted. in a manner which
deceived her into believing his expresion
sincere. “Come, be seated, and hear What
I have to say.”

She obeyed his request, and for the time
checking her weeping, became attentive to
his speech."

“I have something to communicate” (and
as he spoke his glance bent fixedly upon her),
‘ which surprises me in realizing it, while I
judge, it will prove painful to you. I know
you do not love me, yet. in carrying out the
wishes of your dead father. you can certainly
bring yourself to tolerate me.”

"I do not understand you. sir.”

“ What I Wish to say, 1s this: your father ‘

was evidently prevailed upon b more ma-
ture thought, to alter his intentions toward
Mr Victor [ia.-san. Though he told you to
choose your own husband, it seems he
changed his mind, and concluded to make
the choice himself.”

Pauline gazed at him in bewildered si-
lence.

“I happened to enter the library. just

father Was in the habit of sitting, I saw an

 

 

envelope directed to myself, and containing
this note. Read it.”

As he concluded, he handed her a note,
which she perceived to be in Calvert Hern-
don's handwriting, and which ran as fol-
lows:

“ Loan IIALLISON BLAIR:--

“ EsTEEMEn FRIEh'Dz—There is no telling
when one maybe called from this world to
the next. in view of this, a sense of duty
indicates a course on my part, that will pro-
vide for my daughter, Pauline, as is fitting
her station in life. My conscnt, it is true,
was given to a marriage between my child
and Victor Iiassan; but, it was done without
that full thought and careful consideration
I, as a parent, should have exerciSed. I
have Weighed the matter well, and deem it
expedient that you take Pauline to yourself
—ay, particularly request, knowing your
affection for her, that you do so. She Ctln
forget the hasty engagement with one not
able to care for her as she has been reared.
In marrying you she will be elevated to that
position to which she is entitled. Take her;
be kind to her; and in that event, all I pos-
sess shall revert to her \\ hen of age. She
will not refuse your proposal of marriage
when she knows this to be my express de-
sire. the hope of a father whose solicitude is
unbounded, and every thought tended to her
future welfare. I write this while filled with
the presentiment of coming evil.

“ Your true friend,
“CALVERT HERNDON."

The epistle fell from her nerveless hand,
and, with an agonizing moan, she sunk back
in a swoon.

She lay, her white face upturned. still,
marble-like, seemingly bereft of animation;
while the villain, who had at first glowcred,
unseen, over the fair head as she bowed in
perusal of the letter, now felt uneasy, unable
to decide upon a course of action.

It was only for a moment. Then he
sprung toward the bell-cord, and pulled it
violently.

“ Help! assistance here!" he cried. “ Come,
some one—help!"

Alarmed at the fierce clang of the bell, and
his load calls, several servants came rushing
pell-melltothe arlor. ExplainingPaulines
state to one o the maids, he abruptly dis-
missed the others, picked u the billet that
lay on the floor, and retire to an alcove,
where his victim might not see him when she
recovered consciousness.

Under the persistent efforts of the terrified,
wondering waiting-maid, Pauline slowly re-
turned to that life ofvihich she had been
suddenly and momentarily robbed.

Gradually she recalled what had happened.
She glanced about her to see if Blair, her
persecutor, was still in the room.

“Are you i'll‘f—what is the mattert—what
can I do?” asked the girl, in anxious tone.

“ No'; it is nothing, Kate," answered Pau-
line, evasively, and arising from the sofa.
"I am faint, and weak—nothing more. I
will go to my room.”

With the maid's assistance, she tottered,
rather than walked, from the parlor, and the -
Englishman, as he Watched her retreating
form, muttered:

“That will fix it. This letter is allpow-
erfiil. as I judged it. would be She will not
go contrary to the wishes of her father; I
know her nature too well to anticipate any
further difficulty. She is mincl mine mine!"
and he strode from the alcove, out into the
hall, and up-stairs to his private apartments

CHAPTER VII.
A DESTROYth DOCUMENT.

HALLISON BLAIR was in a state of exuber-
ance.

“Aha!” he hissed. “ I hold the winning
card. I play my hand—it .is cunning, care-
ful, successful She is mine! Victor Has-
san shall grind his teeth in despair. Pauline

 

, shall be my wife. and bend to my rule. I
; am lucky.
; Luck comes

‘i

now, and on the large desk, at which your ‘ am lucky.

Fortune and luck. They differ.
of itself. Fortune is acquired
by labor. I have labeled very little, so far.
Well. what now?”

There was a tap at the door, and Gulick
Brandt came in. closing the door after him.

“It’s you, eh. doctor? Come. sit down.
I feel in excellent spirits, very excellent. I
l “as just congratulating my-
self when you interrupted.”

 

SW

 

8 Detective  of London.

 

 

As the physician appropriated a chair, he
asked: -

“ What has occurred?"

“The best thing imaginable. Read that."

He handed him the letter, purporting to
have been written by Calvert IIerndon,
which had caused Pauline a. new agony,
struck so dgeply to her sore heart that she

i had swoone under it.

Brandt read, and then returned the epistle.
As Blair folded and carefully replaced it in
his pocket, the other said, interrogatively:

“I suppose you mean to use this in fur-
thering your resolve iti marrying Pauline
Herndon ?"

“Certainly; but I have already used it.”

“ You have shown it to her?"

“Yes.”
“ What did she say?"
“ Fainted! Faintcd in my arms. She took

it pretty hard; but I couldn’t help that. you
know. It had to be done; now it’s over. and
I have gained my point. She is undoubted-
ly mine! Mr. llassan will, by force of neces-
sity, yield the field.”

“You wrote that yourself?" inquired the
physician, who had detected a few devia—
tions from the practiced chirography of the
deceased.

“ Yes. Is it good? I think it perfect.”

“Beyond a doubt, the handwriting would
be mistaken for that of (Yalvertllerndoufl’

“ Bttt, aside from that—what have yott
done? When have you decided the funeral
shall take place?”

“ It must be tomorrow. IIerndon lies in
a trance, produced by some powerful drug.
\Vhat that drug is, I am at a loss——”

“ Come! you might as well stop that non-
sense. It won’t do, murderer of Calvert
He'rndon/ it won‘t do!”

“Calvert IIerndou is not. dead.“

“No matter; the crime is the same. At
tempt to restore him if you dare You aimed
a blow at his life, meant to kill him. You
are guilty, and [can prose it.” And Brandt
shrunk cowerineg before this forcible
speech. “But go on. What arrangements
have you perfected?” continued the nglish-
man.

“ The reason I say the burial must take
place tomorrow is, if not then, IIerndon will
recover without medical aid.”

“Devil! That is unlucky. We must be
prompt. Have you sect the notice of his
death to an of the papers?"

“ Yes. dispatched a man a few minutes
since. The notice will be in time for the
evening publications.”

“Good. What time have you fixed ‘1"

“Eleven A. M. ”

“I give you credit again. You are man-
aging cleverly. You will gain a rich prize,
doctor. We glide along smoothly, don‘t we,
eh?”

“ When are you going to place the perfect
will in my hands?” asked the physician.

“ Oh. as soon as possible. 1 have it all
here. See!"

He took a coat from his wardrobe and ex-
tracted from the pocket the bits and pieces of
the destroyed will. At sight of the confused
jumble. Brandt criedz.

“ Why, man, that is useless. Nothing can
be made of that. If tbisis your sole depend-
ence, I fear you will disap oint rue.”

“ Not a bit of it. I con d write a new will
altogether, if it suited me to do so. But it
don’t suit me. I prefer another way.
get uneasy. When I was a boy, I

I
attention now. Lo! there’s
a start ”

He fingered the pieces with inconceivable
rapidity and precision; and Brandt saw, as he
watched. firsta letter fitted in, then two let-
ters, then a word; more letters, another word;
he was progressing fast, sure, much to his
satisfaction.

He had made no idle boast. What would
have seemed, to another, an insurmountable
task, proved a light work, an easy work =1
pastime under his skill, patience and ardent
application. The locker-on marveled at the
Worker‘s aptitude.

lit the midst of a deep silence came a
summons at the door. The Englishman
paused; the physician paled. The latter
feared detection.

“Who's there, and what do you want?"
interrogated Blair, Composedly.

“If you please, sir," Was answered front
the outside, “ the undertaker‘s waitin’ in the
parlor.”

“You had better see him,
Brandt.

\Vithout delay, the physician arose and
left the room, following the servant down-
stairs.

lIallison Blair, havingr locked the door, re-
turned to the table and his Work.

Piece after piece he took up; piece after
piece he laid dowu; pieceaftcr piece he plithd
itt its proper position; line after line, slowly,
perfectly, readany formed itself. He labored
on persistently. Moments passed; an hour;
two hours passed; the lines multiplied; his
finger-t were busy, his eyes were busy, his
mind was busy; he persevered; was deter-
mined, confident. As he applied himself the
more closely, he became the more satisfied;
that was plainly visible in his face.

I am very busy.

yr

ttiruitig to

 

He had predicted rightly in two things;
lil‘rt, he could perform what he had protu-
ised; second, he could have it done by four
o’clock.

The last small corner of the parchment was
adjusted; he started it . uttered a sigh of re-
lief, an exclamation, ' rew forth his watch.
It was half-past three.

“ Fortunate! Now this is fortunate. Ihave
Worked, and achieVed my aim. I am first
lttcky, and then fortunate. Combine the
two, and they are carpenters and builders of
triumph.”

He pulled the bellrope, unlocked the door,
and waited. A servant soon appeared, to
whom he gave the order:

“Have the black horse, ‘ Comet,’ that was
the especial pride of Mr. IIerndon, brought
around to the front door immediately.”

“ Saddle, or buggy, sir?”

“ Saddle. Be quick," and as the man de-
parted, he turned to a closet, and took
therefrom, a bottle of gum ambic. Then,
la ing a sheet of Bristol board upon the
ta le, he carefully transferred the adjusted
will, piece by piece, to it. He exercised
great care, occupying nearly the whole half-
hour left before four o clock. anti when this
second feature was ended, he held up the
final result at arm's length, and regarded it.
“All right,” he commented, layin it in a
lar er book. Then‘he redonned is coat,
too up the book, and (initted the apart-
ment. In the large ball ie met the under-
taker, who was going baek to the city for

 

Don't ’ saluted .
used to I weathcrand other unimportant toptcs, and

some trifiin g necessary, leaving his assistants
in char 0 of the supposed c0rpse. Blair
im pleasantly, remarking upon the

astoniin my companions by arrangingr Chi- , the two went out together to the front of the
nose puzzles that would batile the fingers of , house.

a magician.
will together in the same way.
very lengthy one."

x. Brandt looked at the Englishman incredu-
lousl .
of! h 8 coat, and, wheeling a chair ll
table on which he had eposited t e fra -
ments, leisurely set about his most ditlicut
task.

Now, Iam going to put this i _
It is not a also the horse ordered by the Englishman.

The latter quietly proceeded to pull , to order a horse for you. .
[0 the more pleasant than if you rode in your‘

The undertaker’s wagon was there. and

“ As we go in each other's company," said
Blair, “ I would suggest that you permit me
It will be much
i wagon Shall I call the groom?"

“Oh yes; Certainly. If it won’t incon-
venience you,” bowed the boxer of dead

“ How long will this take you?" was the ; bodies.

physician‘s inquiry, as he glanced at the:

The second horse was brought, and the two

torn. uneven slips, and squares, and crooked ‘ men vaulted into the saddles.

points that lay in a discouraging pile.
Hallison Blair looked at his watch.

At this juncture, Doctor Brandt came out
of the house, and Blair paused as he saw the

“ Just noon.” he said, contemplatively. . former desired a word with him.

"I’ll get through by four o’clock; have half i

an hour to get to town. and nearly three
hours left in which to finish the business."
“ Are you sure you will not fail in this?"
"Positive. But you must not engage my

“Did you succeed ‘2” questioned the phy-
' sician, in a whisper, restin one hand on the
pommel of the saddle, an leaning forward
so that the Eu lishman’s companion might
not catch their ialogue. '

 

"Certainly," was the reply, given in the
same low, guarded tone. “Hallison Blair
never undertakes that which he thinks he
will fail in; and once started does not stop,
nor hesitate, till the obiect is accomplished.
The will is again whole. ’

“ But others will readily detect its having
been—”

“Not when I have got through with it.
Do you suppose I would show, for examina-
tion, a stitched or pasted parchment? You
reflect discreditably upon tny ability to per-
fect whatI plan. When you see the will,
Ican defy even you to detect. a flaw, anti
therefore any one else would fail to discover
the cheat."

“ How will you do this?”

“Never mind, now. I will explain when
I have more time. An reach.” and he gave
the horse the rein with thtsc remarks. The
two men dashed off at a gallop.

The steeds from the stables of the Home
Mansion were highly mettled, blooded stock;
swift of liitih, and slender, graceful, sym-
metrical in httild. No whip, nor spur was
me tied; the voice alone proved sufficient in-
centive, and the well-groomed animals fairly
flew over the smooth road, speeding as com-
peting racers.

Doctor Gulick Brandt returned to the
house, and sought the library in which he
had quarreled with his old friend—the room
wherein he had, upon candid solicitation,
tendered his advice, counsel, views in regard
to business speculations, private schemes,
etc., that at times merited the attention of
Calvert 'Herndon. the retired merchant. the
man of Wealth, the generous, open-hearted,
whole souled man, who was universally es-
teemcd.

As he trod the rich carpet he meditated
upon the fated cluster of incidents which
seemed twincd about this particular period
of his life. Ilc reviewed the plot he was
aSsisting in carrying out.

Murder! This one word stood emblazoned
in dread letters of fire before Brandt's eyes,
carved by an invisible demon in the fore-
ground of his vision. ,

“But I am innocent!” arose constantly to
his lips, as he walked back and forth.

"l‘was useless. Even as the words shaped
themselves, were created mentally, or in out-
spoken sentencc there came a mocking, tan-
talizing voice in his ears, reverberating
through his brain, as an echo through a
litnitless cavern:

“ You cannot prove it!
itl”

His temples throbbed, his knees trembled;
he realized fully his situation, and sunk into
the n'earest chair, oblivious to all things save
the knowledge of the crime to which he was
an ally.

You cannot prove

 

CHAPTER VIII.
A mow FROM BEHIND.

THE day was a lovely one. A solitude un-
broken, save by the uarbling of birds and
soft whispering of the perfumed breezes, as
they, gently rustled the bri ht green leaves,
rei ned in and around the 101m Mansion.

umerous cabs and carriages were to be
seen slowly approaching the great gate,
wheeling silently into line, and fortning a
lelfithy cortege that stretched far down the
T0 .

Friends, acquaintances, strangers, alike
assembled in a grave, hushed way, around
the parlor-door, wherein lay Calvert Hern-
don, garbed for the final sleep which comes
inevitably to all.

At length, one by one, the sea of faces
passed before. and gazed for a moment 11 n
the cold, calm features of him who Road
So recently been flushed in rfect health.
and not a few eyes moisten as they dwelt
for the last time on that Picture of serene,
unstudied tranquillity. _

Among the rest was Victor Hassan.
Having tried in V0!“ to see his betrothed—
being informed that she had ordered "no"
to all who might seek her—he took his place,
and as he filed past the rich coflin, there
swelled within him an emotion impossible to
portray.

In looking upon the pale face of Calvert
Herndon, as the latter lay habitcd for the

rave, he had been startled by an unexpected

iscovery—a discovery which, for an instant,
checked the beating of his heart.

Upon the lips of the corpse he had fan-

‘g'r’r‘s: r»:u‘§1y‘wcw;.nflf .. .
‘ .

met-imam. «.7 a.» an  t. 

 

 

- -. -... ,. ye. ,
“Cu -:_«r—.m. _

r——-—————— r r __r -

cied lie deteeted a slight moisture.
it, Win a «leltixinli or aetual sight‘ he
was at tit-st uiiahle to deeide; hut now
he heeame fully lllllitt‘.~>t‘tl \\it|i the idea
that IIerndon \\':1\' not _\'et dead Wholly
dead

Ilut “hen the deep \‘oiee of the pastorot‘
St Slepheih Was I‘.(‘:ll'tl. in prayer to the
(iiVel (it I.Hig It) reeeiVe tln- do Ul inaihs
soul. he eouid hut think that hix Illifit't‘\~ltit|s
\veia- hut to he entirer trimed; hut. he der
tt‘l'lltlllt'ti to he Nlllstlt'tl llt‘\'(‘ltllt'lt‘\\‘ ere
niam' hourx

.\‘t’ew hrief minutes ~then eame the eall“
for llu-eul‘i‘iztgt'fi, and the In aixe l|l|)\'t'(l slow.
ly toward the gate.

 

 

 

[tullut
\lllllllliill t m.

Detective Fleet of London.

anv ()llt‘vlut? I ean not aeeount ft r11

IIe did not depart, hut sought an :i:hor iu
the garden where he hilt, down to think It
“as the same aihor in “'Illt'll he and l’aziline
had exehanged their happy vows only 1m»

t'avs Ilt‘fUn’. He was surprised lexond
measure, that I’auline's wish for Nllll'lt'
had extended even to his ext-hmon. \\ hile

thus ahwu‘hed, a hunt darkened the INHVt‘H‘ti
eutianee, and Ilallkon Illair >ttwtl la'toi‘e his
rival.

" Ah?" t‘\('I:tiIHI‘(I the liiiglulnnan~ iuune
diatel)‘. This [A a surprhe. I did not e.\pe('t
to tind you here."

“I presume n It." hluntly returned Vii-tor. .

t ".i  . \ \.
uumnmmumw“hail
'lltllltlm. . \\\\\\\\ \ \

~\ \

\
.t » 4 HI \;
ttuntttlutet ‘tx - .9»
‘, \§\\\t\\\\t\liv ‘ ,

 

 

Victor‘Went out to the steps. paulinc
passed him. her fur head howed, supported
upon the arm ot IIaIlison Blair. 'l‘tu- tum”-
seeing Victor? L'lnnt't'li at him from eiittering
eyes of eommingled triumph and hate

The train wound into the road at a slow
pace. and turned toward Laurel lliil.

"I wish to see Miss l’auhne, I tell you. I
care not for etiquette or form. I must see
her." demanded Vietor llassan, as. after the
funeral, he stood at the door of the Home
Mansion.

“ I‘m very sorry, sir," was the servant"
reply, “but I hth- orders to admit it ) one-—
no matter who "

“ Strange,’ he thought. turnng away for
he saw that argument wzw useless. “ “'hat

 

“ Aim You iuc'ricmrixi-zn 'ro PUSH ME 'rm's?"

“ I heard that you had eome to the house,
and gone away." eontinued Blair. " Why
should you remain here ‘2"

“ And why not Y” was the quick rejoinder,

and the young man flashed a steady gaze I

upon the other.
" ()h, I had no idea there could he aught

to detain you. that's all,” and the shoulder ‘

slirllflg’etl, and the lips smiled, sareastically.

“ Nauuht to detain me, sir! What do you
mean! I»: it, not natural that I should wish
to see I’nulitle‘!"

‘ I don't see that it, is. Do you imagine
to meet her here? Have a cigar."

lle produeed his eiear-ease and extended
it to his rival. maintainingr nonehalant eom-
posuie, Vietor wit" angry. IIe thrust
lllair‘s hand aside. Ile neither liked nor

| feared the man, and the Englishman's

9

Whether ean I’auline mean liythiv.’ llet'usetosee speeeh eontained an insult to his hot

nature. The Itltlt't! mantled to his eheek as
he said:

“ ll:illl.\‘ttll Illair. explain youixelf

“ In what re.~pt ('1 

“ Your \Vord.~_"

“ \Vell. I >hnll do <o_ \Vheii I >aid that :t
\\ iin on your part to >ee Mi» Ilei'ndon was
in~utlieient to detain )eii. I llit‘:tl.t :at you
liml Ill) right to >ee It('r.”

‘ XI! right to see llt'l'?‘

" l’reeiM-l)’, and for the r' awn that >he is
the :itliaiit'ed of another."

" .\tli;ineed ot' another?
Who”

' Your ohedient ~ei‘\‘;tiit

-.

Impossible 3

Ilit‘.-.

9/////

'/

//,'//H 1/ u/ /

'/

“WW , 4/ [Maw/)2

Yietor looked at him ineredulously.

“I know that you have attempted to Win
Pauline llerndon.“ he said presentlv. “and
what little penetration I possess, tellsi me you
are a man who Would not hesitate to employ
hast-'nieans. But ~\‘ou have failed. Pauline
IS mine, ’

“No, she is not," asserted Blair. calmly;
“ she is mine."

" Your? l’reposterous! Mr. Ilerndon,
ere hedied. approved an engagement between

‘ hix‘ daughter and myself."

“Sim-e “hieh time and aISo before his
det'ea~’('. he Very wisely (hanged his mind.
He eoneluded it would be more to his
daughter's interest to wed an equal and not
an inferior—that equal is myself, Lord IIaIli-
son Blair, a gentleman of rank."

"It's a base lie! Mr. Ilerndon was not

 

-.
'i
.‘I'
'i
»

 

' .it that will not bear scrutiny. You start! You

' myself, and accept the consequences—good

' plating the helpless form at his feet.

10

Detective Fleet of London.

 

 

a man to stoop to duplicity. He was tooi
noble to cherish thoughts that would crush '
the hopes he gave Pauline and I. I do not ,
believe you.”

“You will, perhaps, be compelled to}
realize it. And let me suggest that youri
tongue be stronger chained when it leaps to
give the lie.”

“If you assert this thing, I say you lie—
lie basely, and insult three persons: first,
the dead father of her whom you also insult }
by daring to call yours; and third, me, for‘
-you couple falsehoods in your language that
an honorable man would scorn. I do not
fear you. Though you be a peer to the
haughticst monarch in all Europe, here, 111 l
America, I am your- equal in title, your
superior as a man.”

“Hal”

“ Ay, you hear and understand. I do not
believe this tale. There is something behind

have concocted aome vile plot to rob me of
Pauline. I read that. in your eye. it will
not remain long unexposed. The eyes oflove
are keen. If aught exists unworthy the ap-
proval of a true gentleman, I shall ferret that
unworthiness out. ”

Blair paled slightly. Victor continued:

“ As I passed the coffin to-day, to take a '
last look at Mr. Herndon, I saw upon his5
lips, which were bloodless as those of a
corpse, a moisture. It was scarce percepti-
ble, yet apparent. Isuspect that Mr. Ilern-
don, this very instant, breathes the air of a
grave, while yet of this life. i mean to have
my suspicion verified or denied by an exam-
ination. I feel sure that my suspicions are
well founded; and if so, then we’ll see if what
you say is true.”

During this speech the pallor which had

overspread Blair‘s face, deepened, visib‘y.
When he spoke, his voice was somewhat
huskg.
“ hat—what's that you say?" he ejacu-
lated, brokenly. “You have an idea that
Mr. Herndon is not dead? You intend pe-
titioning the authorities for permission to
look‘into the matter?"

“More than that; Imean to examine for

or bad.”

“ But this idea of yours iS simply ridicu.
lous.”

“Whatever it may seem to you. does not
trouble me, nor affect my intentions. 1 shall ,
have another look at the face of the buried
merchant. When I am satisfied, one way or
the other, you shall hear from me again. i
For the present, I will overlook your insults. i
I bid you gnod~day, sir.” I

He turned to leave the spot, but, at that "
instant, he received a stunnin blow upon,
the head from some one who ha been stand- l
ing behind him.

He could have recovered from his unlook-
ed-for attack, but that. the Englishman
sprung forward, anti struck him several 9'
times in succession about the head and tem- l
pies, which robbed him of all consciousness,
and he sunk down to the greensward, limp,
powerless.

“ Well done, doctor!” cried Blair, contem-

 

N

The arbor had two openings. Blair stood
before the front, while the physician, com-
ing in at the rear entrance, and overbearing
a p0rtion of the youn man’s words, had
promptly dealt the foul 10w.

“ It had to be done,” said Brandt. “. He
would have betrayed us; and our two byes
are worth more than one. I think we’ve
killed him.”

“ No doubt of it. We pounded him hard
enough”

“And now we are in a dilemma. What
shall we do with the body ?” l

“ I see but one course. Wait a moment."

He glided abruptly from the arbor, and
Gulick Brandt was left alone with their vic-

 

 

an.

After a short absence the Englishman re. .
appeared, saying; . _ ‘

“It’s all right. No one is movmg about .
thr house. We will not be seen.” '

“ What are you going to do i"

“ We must take him to the cellar and bury
him. There will be no difficulty in that; the ,
earth is not hard: besides, I remember Mr. j
Iierndon set out some fruit trees this spring, 
and the box they came in is in the cellar, for I
I have seen it there. Do you hesitate ?’.’

 

.. av
15 -

“IIesitate? No. This body must be got
rid of, and the plan you suggest is the only
one which appears sensible.”

“Take hold then; we’ll get in by the
earth-door, and no one will see us."

The five men lifted Victor Ilassan and bore
him away.

Entering the cellar by the back outside
doors, they deposited the body, and each

, grasped a tool from the rack near at hand

and went earnestly to work, digging, shovel
ing, till the perspiration stood upon their
broWs in great drops.

The hole widened, deepened, lengthened,
until its capacity was sufficient to contain
the box.

And then Victor IIassan was placed in this
secret grave.

The loose earth was spread over the lid of
the box, and that which remained, they scat-
tered about the floor, so covering it with
straw and litter that no one would have sus-
pected that, beneath the surface, lay a second
victim to man‘s atrocity.

When the murderous riddance was thus
accomplished. the physician turned to Blair.

“ What have you done about the will?"
he asked. \

“ You shall have it in due time, never
fear. 1 have made all secure in that direc-
tion."

“Tell me your plan.”

“ Well. I don’t mind. I propose to furnish
you a lithographed copy."

“Are you sure?-are you positive there
will be no-‘—”

"No danger? Yes—certain. Money goes,
without fail, to the furtherance of all objects,
you know. I have arranged, by bribery,
with a lithographcr, to get up a true copy of
the will. He said the ‘job’ was so delicate
that he would require time. I could not do
otherwise than grant it. As soon as he has
it ready, he will place it in my hands.”

“How deep, deep. deep we are getting
half~mused the physician, as he gazed down.
meditatively, at the gravel loam they had
cast about.

“ VVhatl—do you flinch?" and Blair's eyes
fixed piercingly upon his companion.

“Not” exclaimed Brandt, with emphasis.
“I am afloat in this vile plot; now let me
see if you outwork me in sticCtrszully man-
aging it. I 'am desperate, Hallison Blair—
Lord Hallison. in this new, strange, terrible
position you have forced upon me! Mur-
der now rests upon my hands if it never

'n
.

: rested there before; and it is too late too re-

consider. Our interests. henceforth, are
identical; we are allied; 'we will work to’
gether.”

The two schemers repaired to Hallison
Blair's apartments, where they whiled away
the time in cigars and conversation.

Toward nightfall. the Englishman rung
the bell, and ordered the girl who answered
his summons, to fetch wine.

She was absent quite a while; in fact, Blair
was growing impatient at the delay, when at
last she came. '

"Well," he said, in a vexed tone, “what
detained you so?"

“ I couldn’t hel it, sir,” was the hesitating
and indefinite‘rep y.

"Never mind, then; begone,” and as the
girl withdrew, he and the physician turned
their attention to the sparkling beverage be-
fore them.

 

CHAPTER IX.
Irmr. UNWILLING RIDE.

A roarmeur passed, andlilurin g that time
Pauline remained alone with her sorrow,
scarcely ever leaving her room except to
attend meals, and quite often these were sent
up to her.

The brilliancy of her eyes were worn
away with constant Weeping; the rosy flush

v of her cheeks was faded; the whole expres-

sion of her face—a face that once had beamed
with all the light of a happy heart—was
changed to that of woe.

She had frequently wondered, as she
sat alone weeping. why Victor did not
come near her. His continued absence,
while it seemed strange, was also pro-
ductive of another pang. What could
account for his remaining away? She could
not answer, and as she marveled she grieved
the more.

And so the days dragged by; the load of
mourning became heavier.

 

In the time that had elapsed since Calvert
Herndon’s burial, the two schemers accom-
plished much toward furthering the stability
of their position. a”

The will Hallison Blair had promised
should be read at the proper moment, came
promptly from the lithographer, who was
sworn to secrecy ere he received his pay;
and Doctor Brandt experienced a feeling of
security when he glanced over the parch-
ment. It was perfect; no flaw, mistake nor
difference from the genuine chirography
was discernible; and when the dvcutnent
was read in court and Brandt was reCognized
by law as Calvert Herndon’s executor. with-
out bond, he inward] rejoiced—~tliercafter,
his life was to be one 0 luxury, ease, comfort,
without effort or toil.

One day Pauline reccived a message from
Hallison Blair to the effect that he wished to
see herin the drawing-room. Up to this time,
he had not imposed his society upon her, and
she felt grateful. Now he wished to speak
with her—of what?

She trembled with doubts, yet resigned
herself to the fate in store; she easily sur-
mised what was coming. and endeavored to
calm her nerves, to dry her tears, to prepare
for the pending ordeal, the inevitable—in-
evitable, because she had thou ht maturely
upon the wishes of her dead ather, as set
forth in the letter shown her by Hallison
Blair, and concluded that, in duty she was
bound to follow the dictates of the departed
one, no matter how severe the trial.

She descended to the parlor. where were
seated the Englishman and Doctor Brandt.

“ We regret to have called you from the
solace of solitude, Pauline,” spoke Blair,
“ but it is time that I touched upon the sub-
jectof our marriage. As I propose returning
to England immediately, the sooner our wed-‘
dint.r is solemnized the better.”

“ So soonl" she exclaimed, in a low voice,
full of surprise.

. “It is soon,” he acknowledged, speaking
mildly. as if the tone he used was reviously
studied, “yet. it is necessary. {have re-
ceived letters which call me back to my home

in London, and as I cannot go without you. I “
think we had best be married before we start;
don’t you ?”

Then he continued, after a moment’s si-
lence: “My trunks have alread gone for-
ward to the‘ ocean packet, at ’ew York.
You can get your own apparel ready at
once. I presume?" V

“It will look so strange, Mr. Blair," she
remonstrated, tearfully. -

“Obi uno; we will be married, and [sail
for England at once. There will be no
room for gossip, and if there should be any,
it will not greet our cars. But I am speaking
rather for granted-——you have decided to re-
spect the last wishes of your father, have you
not, as regards ourselves?” a

“ Yes,” was the sad reply. "I must obey
lie was so good, so kind to me always, that I
can not rebel now.”

“ That‘s right. Ver right, Miss Pauline,”
said Brandt. “Thong your father is not
here to control your actions by pleasant word
and governing smile. rest assured he looks on
from above, and all you do will give him
pleasure, nevertheless."

“ I judged this would be our decision.”
resumed Blair, “and when r. Hassan came /
.here the day after the funeral—”

“ Oh! then he has been here? He did
come?" she interrupted, with quick eager-
ness.

“ Yes, he came and had a long talk. You
were very much indisposed then, you remem-
ber, and of course he could not see you. I
told him of the change in aflairs; of your be-
ing my amanced through deference to Mr.
Herndon's expressed wrsh, and he has not
called since," and he cons1dered this matter
safely, cleverly otton Over-

“ Ah!" thong t she. “then this is wh I,
have not seen him. 0h! Victor—dear ic
tort I must ive you up. I may never see
you again. ay Heaven guard you always,
and bring you happiness that never can be
minel" 'i‘hen aloud:

“Since it must be soer. Blair, when are
we to be married.”

“ To-morrow.”

“ 'I‘o-morrowl" the word echoed from
Pauline’s lips, in tone of veriest astonish-
ment.

 

 

 

I
a “A W‘s, _... .

, )-n§.4~afl. wv-q‘ «a m”. ,h m

 

 

Detective Fleet of London. .

11‘

 

 

“‘ Yes, to-morrow. The doctor will ac-
company us on our voyage."

There reigned a stillness in the room of
several seconds’ duration,
asked:

“Are you determined to push me thus?
Can you not wait a short time ?"

“impossible. I cannot delayl" he answer-
ed, and his manner was rather emphatic.
“ (tome, do not let this give you fresh worri-
ment. ‘Strive to look brighter, more cheer-
ful. Are you going to bestow yourself upon
me a sorrowin bride?”

Ile advancet , and, twining an arm round
her waist, imprinted a kiss upon her unwitl~
ing lips. It was done ere she divined his in
tention, and though she could not prevent his
action, she reeoiled from his embrace asif the
touch were pollution.

“ I—I—I will endeavor to be ready by to-
morrow,” she said, drawing back. “ At what
hour must 1 be torn from the dear old Home
Mansion 7”

“ At precisely twelve—noon. We can then
be married in time to catch the evening,r train
for New York, and be aboard ship by ten
o’clock day after tomorrow. One reason why
I am in such haste is, the vessel sails on the
day and at the hour named."

“ I will be ready,” and with this, she walked
slowly from the parlor, struggling hard to re-
strain the gushing tears.

So soon! To—morrowl

A few hours more, and she would bid
adieu to the loved spot endeared to her from
childhood; enter a new field in life; be sur-
rounded by strange faces; hearstrangc voices;
with no friends, save her husband and the
physician—the first, a man she could never
love; the latter, one whose villainous hypo-
crisy she had yet to learn; both of them
friends that were not friends, but enemies
whose natures warped to diabolical ten-
dencies. '

She left all arrangements to her waiting-
maid, a girl who knew well how to please
the taste of her mistress, and then, when
night came, retired to her couch. llcr head
did not press the pillow to seek repose. Her
mind was too busy, toovloadcd, too agonized
to admit of slumber.

The next day brought no cheer or gladness
to her exhausted spirits. The bright sun-
shine, the caroling birds, the hummin‘ 1n-
sects, the lovely flowers and freshly-b own
rosebuds, all were lost in the one sole anxiety
of thought. The warm light was joyless;
the bird songs were as a funeral chant;
the voice of the insects seemed as a death-
watch.

The hour arrived—the dread hour in
which she must take a farewell leave of the
may charms and loved objects that clus-
ter around her‘home. The last servant
was dismissed, the house closed, and at
twelve o’clock Pauline was seated in a car-
riage. in company with Doctor Gulick Brandt
and the man who was to be her future hus-
band.

The wedding at St. Paul’s Church. Phila-
delphia, was a quiet one, only a few being
there to witness the ceremony, and these few
especially invited throu rh favor.

Some thought the bri e strange] affected
for one about to win a rich and andsome
husband; a few thought that, beneath the
vail she were, they saw the glisten of tears.
But this attracted no very particular attenv
tron.

Perhaps she felt deeply moved by the hap-
piness about to be realized in the cementing
of the golden bonds? They who looked upon
her, thought this; but how widely of! from
the true cause!

The Englishman had made good his vow.
On that calm, clear, beautiful day, Pauline
Herndon became his Wife. He had won the
object of his passion; she was his by right
0‘ 13W. and by the words of a minister of

; yet, how had he accomplished these
finds?

After the conclusion of the ceremony,
they returned to the carria e. As they en-
tered the conveyance, the driver thrust a slip
of paper into her hand, sa ing:

“ ide that—quickl an read it when you
have time.”

Involuntarily she secreted the paper in her
bosom, and as they whirled away toward the
ferr .she wondered within herself what it
e_ou d be she had received. She had not had
timeto notice the two forms on the opposite

when Pauline ‘

 

side of the street, staring at her like statues

: of living marble, flxed, pale, motionless, as

she emerged from the door of the church;
and who followed the carriage with their eyes
till it was lost to view. .

From the ferry Pauline, her husband and
the physician went to the cars at the Cam-
den depot, and continued their journey.

Arriving in New York without accident
or delay, they went aboard the ship to which
the baggage had been previously ordered,
and at the hour fixed, the vessel left her an-
ehorage.

Pauline seemed as one in awalking trance;
her surroundings being in a maze of confu-
sion that did not distract the vision, but ra-
ther soothed it. She lived, heard, saw, but
could not fully realize. Blair became more
than ever attentive to his sad bride, striving
to win from her a smile such as she was wont
to bestow, at one time, upon all the inmates
of the Home Mansion.

But his efforts were in vain. Pauline bow—
ed her head to the cruel fate which had allot-
ted such a gall to her existence, such a thorn»
path under her—smiled not, and when she
spoke her voice was low, sweet, mild, and
tremulous with emotional sadness.

As the White sails filled, and she was
borne slowly, further and further from her
native land, she stood upon the deck, near
the bulwarks, and a sigh, a hushed moan of
an uish quivered on her lips.

hen naught was to be seen save the sky,
above, and the waters beneath, and the rid-
ing, dancing ship, the last spark of hope
seemed faded.

She was upon the broad ocean, going to
London, the home of her unloved husband.

 

CHAPTER X.
A NOBLEMAN'S norm.

A FINE house, a disagreeable owner—like
a pretty box, with miserable contents—a
palatial abode, with disliked occupant. Here
lived the man who was unpopular, because of
his uneharitableness, inhospitality, hauehty
and arrogant exterior toward the community
in general. A gambler; a lover of fast
horses; a man fond of extravagant, flashy
display and strong drink; a frequenter of
fare-tables; a heavy better at roulette; ex
perienced at cards, to trick, cheat, defraud—
a winner often, a loser seldom; a. handsome
man, an educated man, polite to equals,
cringing to superiors, steel-hearted, proud,
quick-tempered with inferiors; his conver-
sation with either class always in speech that
contained a hidden significance; and, finally,
holding reputation considerably below par
among the eminent social circles of London
society.

This was Lord Hallison Blair—a man who

had played recklessly with a name handed
down unsullied, yet was received graciously
at the royal court, was flattered by smiling
ladies, was feared by the‘common people,
whom he despised. . '

“ May he be cursed!”

Exelamations like this escaped the lips of
many who had occasion to pass a magni-
fiCent residence, of unusually attractive
architecture, situated in Square St. James,
London, where lived Lord Hallison Blair
with his bride—where lived the two plot-
ters, the noble, and the physician. com-
panions in guilt, but apparently secure in
their princely retreat from all inquiry or sus-
pieion.

The Englishman and Brandt were seated
in the private apartments of the former on
the afternoon of a clear, warm day, near
summer’s close. A decanter and wine- glasses
were on the table before them, and they dis-
cussed the liquor in familiar style and lively
strain.” ’

“Well,” said Blair, holding up a glass of
sparkling wine between himself and the sun-
rays that entered at the window, “ what do
you begin to think of the general state of
things now, eh? Don't you find it different
from being hard at work-beating a living
out of ailing patients, and writing Latin pre-
scriptions‘t"

“ You will remember, I once said I might
be reconciled—"

“Reconciled? Hal ha! ha!"

“You will not let me finish. I said I
might, after awhile, become reconciled. I
am more than that now. I am pleased in
reviewing the cleverness with which we have

 

managed the affair throughout,” and the phy-
sician smiled grimly.

“ Of course you are! Of course you are!"
exclaimed Hallison Blair. “You are learn-
ing what it is to live stylishly among our
best society. You have ridden behind the
best horses in my stables, and there's some
flesh there that can’t be beaten by any other
in the country! You’ve seen the ins and
outs of London life pretty thoroughly, after
being my companion in everything. You
have seen how much satisfaction is derived
from a fat purse; and if you’re not more than
reconciled, I marvel greatly. By-the-by.
don’t you think my pretty Pauline is well

deserving of the unbounded admiration which '

everybody bestows upon her ?”

“Undoubtedly. I can hardly believe my
e es—”

“And they are not so good as they were
once," interrupted Blair. “I am afraid you
don’t sleep well, doctor, notwithstanding
your habitual outward composure. I am
very quick to perceive these things. Take
my advice, and don't think so much about
the money you are handling—where it came
from, and so forth. But, excuse me. Pro-
ceed. What were you about to say?"

“It surprises me to note how Lady Blair
has improved since her sojourn here. I
feared she would never regain her former
look of bloaming health; but she is even
more lovely than she was before her father
died.”

“Died! Died you say? Ha! ha! ha!
How singular it is, doctor, you persistently
assert that Calvert Herndon died! I believe
you will stand by that as long as you live."

“I was not the direct cause of the mer-
chant’s death, Lord' Hallison,” said Brandt,
a shadow settling upon his face. “In truth,
I am innocent.”

“Innocent! There you go again, avow-
ing your innocence for the one-hundred-and-
first time. I wonder if you were in a som-
nambulistic state when you drove from the
city of Philadelphia out to Herndon‘s house,
entered the library, placed a poisonous
pastille on the desk under his nose and
caused his unnatural decease? I have often
wondered” (he concluded with a touch (f
sarcasm) “if such might not have been the
case.”

Doctor Gulick Brandt looked the other in
the eye. But only fora second; his gaze was
not so strong, steady, unflinching as the hard,
metallic glance of the Englishman; and as
the physician winced under the searching,
snakycyes that fired upon him, his head
drooped, and he said:

“ You know i am innocent of.that deed of
which you accuse me.”

“ [know you are innoccnt? I? I, of all
persons, to acquiesce in that? To the con-
trary, I know you are guilty. Don‘t I keep
reminding you of the fact, to keep your
spirits up? Ila! ha! ha!"

“Ay, you torment me, each day that
passes, by Speaking of Calvert I-lerndon’s
murder,” cowerineg rejoined Brandt. "As
to keeping my spirits up—bahl l’ve none
left save the evil spirit which exists in my
heart. I know that, to-day, I am as great a
villain as you. But it was not so once.”

“ Very likely. Few men are born vil-
lains.”

“ Even admitting that I was instrumental
in Herndon’s death, what use is there in
throwing out unending charges of murder?
I be 'eve the burial of Pauline’s fathers more
horrible murder than if we had killed him
outright.”

“Victor Hassan, for example."

“While Calvert Herndon lay dressed for
the grave, there was yet life in him. Neither
you norIstayed the funeral. Therefore, you
are deeply involved as myself.”

“That is absurd. How was I to know he
still lived ?" _ '

“I am a physician, and I saw the fact be-
fore me; I advised you of it. Then, instead
of countenancing an efiort to resuscitate him,
you threatened me if I disclosed my knowl-
edge to others. I hold on roportionately
accountable in this, Hallison lair."

As Brandt thus spoke, he appeared to de-
rive considerable self-assurance from the
words. He looked up again; assumed a
calmer air.

“ But the pastille—the pastille t" malicious-
ly suggested Lord Hallison, leaning slightly
forward, and concentrating upon the other

2

 

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12

Detective Fleet of London.

 

 

a gllance that would seem to read his very
sou .

“I have my opinions regarding that." re
turned the physician. “ Since I came to Lon»
don I have had time to reflect. I have my
opinions.”

“And, pray, what are they?" was the in-
different question.

“I am not only satisfied in my own con-
science, of my innocence, but I suspect who
placed the deadly pastille in the library.”

“ Have you? Well, and whom do you sus-
peet?”

“You.”

“ PshaW! Let us talk of something else.
I have been holding this glass in my hand
till my wrist aches. Fill your glass and
drink.”

Nothing more was said upon the subject
then; the physician poured out some wine,
and each drank to the continued success of
their scheme.

As they set down their empty glasses, the
door opened, and a lady entered.

She was attired fashionably for a drive;
jewels upon her fingers and person, and
rainient of costly fabiics. IIer ripe lips are
arched; eyes sparkle with fire beneath the
long, shading lashes; her mien is graceful.
composed, commanding. It is Pauline—-
Lady Ilallison Blair—a leading belle—a peer
among the haughtiest and wealthiest—with-
out a rival in loveliness, brilliancy of conver-
sation, and love of her gay life. Lords and
ladies alike pay her their homage, forgetting,
in her society, that she is the wife of a man
disliked and shunned by all honorable men.
All within her circle of acquaintance are cap
tivated by her winnin smile and sensible
converse; yet not blini' to notice, at times.
a sudden change, when she would become
cold toward those around her.

Lady Hallison Blair alone, knew the cause
of these abrupt changes in herself from life
and gayety, to silence and immobility. Amid
the estive scenes in which she mingled,
there would come a feeling as if her dead
father stood near; a shadow like a cloud be-
fore the bright sun; a sensation of an exist-
ing something, which lingered, unseen, at
her side, and stayed her light laugh, paled
her cheek, rendered motionless the lips that
had been movin fast in pleasant strain.

“ Well,” said ord Hallison, “you are go—
in g out ‘2”

“For a short drive,” she answered, and
her voice was even richer in its musical pu-
rity of tone than when she reiterated her
betrothal vows with Victor Hassan, at the
Home ManSion, beyond the Atlantic.

“ You go alone, my love ?” he pursued.

“ Yes. I presume you have no desire to
accompany me—you and Doctor Brandt seem
so absorbed in each other,” and here she
flashed a significant look upon the physician,
whose back was turned toward her. Blair
saw, and smiled.

" I suppose my wife, Lady Hallison Blair,
so favorably received everywhere, admired
by all for her beauty, a queen of society, can
do without the company of her husband this
once—eh, love?” ,

“Oh, certainly. Rest assured I shall not
long want for compan
“Au rewir, then.

able ride.”

he swept from the apartment without
speaking further, and as the door closed after
her, Lord Hallison turned to his companion
with the exclamation: .

“B Heaven! I think she grows more
beaut fiil every hour. She was a perfect
houri when I married her; now—now—what
term is fitting? what word ade uate? what
name, unless we borrow that of enus, could
do 'ustice to her charms?"

'llhe physician made no answer.

“ You see,” continued the nobleman, “I
have won a prize—you have gained a mint.
Take my advice for a. second time, and spend
her money freely while you have opportu-
nity. You know Pauline comes of age in
November. All her father’s wealth becomes
here then. Draw heavily while the chance
lasts.

“Do you not apprehend that suspicion
may be aroused, if I spend too much
money?"

“Suspicion? Nonsense! N obodyin Lon-
don knows the amount of the annuity left
you by Calvert Herndon; and what if it were

I'wish you an enjoy-

otherwise? It would make no difference.

 

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Had any individual sufficient brass to ques-
tion you regarding your finanCial affairs, you

i

could refer them to Lord Blair, who, I pledge i

you, would never answer to their satisfaction.
tint never fear; we don‘t do things that way
ere.”

Brandt arose and walked to the window.
He simply wished to see Pauline driven off
in the open barouche, with restleSS. gayly-
caparisoned horses, held in rein by the flash-
liveried groom.

But he had no sooner looked out, his gaze
had scarcely been directed to the opposite
side of the street, when he uttered a stifled
cry, dashed his hands to his forehead, and
reeled back to the center of the apartment,
falling.

 

CHAPTER XI.
WHAT ALARMICD 'l‘llE I'iiYsICIAN.

AS’I‘ONISIIED as was Hallison Blair by this
singular condition of his friend, he (lid not
pause to ascertain the cause, but sprung
quickly forward, and sustained Braiidt’s sink-
in g form. '

“ In the name of the Seven Wonders, doc-
tor, what ails you?" cried he, dragging and
lifting the physician to a chair.

Brandt groaned, gasped, parted his lips,
but could not articulate; and his eyesjblood-
shot and staring, Were distended widely.
This exhibition now thoroughly alarmed
Blair, who exclaimed:

“Man alive! what has happened? Speak.
Are you paralyzed? Are you dumb?” .

For answer, Brandt hurriedly grasped his
wrist, bounded from the chair, and ran to
the window. Here he found his voice, for
he fairly screamed:

“Look! Look here—see!” pointing down
the street at a man who was walking rapidly
away.

Blair followed with his eyes the direction
of the other’s finger, and instantly he, too,
started, paled, was agitated.

“ Can it be?" came from his lips, in husky
accents. “Do I dream? Fiends! no: I am
awake. I am not mistaken. That form!—
tliat stepl—it must be !———it is Virtur Hansen !
Doctor, by the cross of England—" but he
addressed empty air.

The physician had dashed wildly from the
apartment, and presently Blair saw him
emerge from the front entrance, and walk
exeitel after the object that had caused their
mutua alarm.

The Englishman paced back and forth,
his arms folded, his brow darkened, and glit-
tering eyes bent upon the carpet in meditative

“ Did I not help strike him down with my
own hands?”he mused. “Did I not help
dig his grave, place him in that grave, and
cover him over with earth? What, then, is
this but a delusion? But I saw him, I am
sure of that; Brandt saw him—silly fool,
and he is nearly become a raving lunatic in
consequence. What has be gone after him
for ?—to be discovered, arrested, implicate
both of us, and wind up all our well-ordered
scheme in a crushin overthrow? ’Sdeathl
I wish I could have etained him.”

Hallison Blair, though astounded, was not
of a tem erament to lose all composure. He
reasone as he walked to and fro.

‘ Perhaps as much as half an hour went by
when Brandt made h'is reappearance.

The physician’s face was pallid as that of
a corpse.

“ it‘s be! It's he, Lord Hallison! What
shall we do?”

The picture of object fear, unbounded ter-
ror, which was presented in Doctor Brandt,
for a moment forced a smile to Blair’s lips.
But this was supplanted by an expression of
supreme contempt. r

" Doctor Brandt, you are a fool.”

“A fool! You think Iam a fool because
I am excited? You should tremble, Lord
Hallison—tremble as with an ague when you
realize that Victor Hassan, he whom we
thought dead, is alive. well, here, in London,
stop ing at the —-—— llotel.”

“ -Iow do you know, positively, that it is
Victor Hassan? How do on know that he’s
stop ing at the —— Hote "

“ know it is he, because I saw him with
my own eyes. I know he is sto ping at the
———- Hotel because I followe him there.
Oh! Lord] what is to be done?” groaned the
terrified man.

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“ Sit down, and cease this nonsense,”
commanded Blair. “ Are you a timid child?
You are playing the deuce to perfection. Sit
down.”

Brandt obeyed with a moan.

“ Now,” continued the Englishman, also
seating himself, “the first thing to be done
is to stop this tomfoolery. _
once, so that we may converse rationally.”

Brandt finally mastered his excitement, and
looked at Hallison Blair despondingly.

“You saw Victor llassan in the flesh, and

followed him to the —— llotel‘!”

“Yes. I even ascertained the number of
his room, and found that he had registered
under a. fictitious name.”

“ And that name—what was it?"

“ A most singular one—Lord Victor llas-
san B.”

The Englishman leaped from his chair and
became greatly excited.

“ What!" he cried. “ Whatl—rcpeat that ”

The physician did so, and, to his surprise,
Lord Hallison began pacing to and fro in an.
unwonted manner.

“Might I ask what is the matter, Lord
Hallison ?"

“Matter? Matter enough! But, never
mind, it is no business of yours,” and he
continued, musingl : “ Strange, strange—
What can this coincidence mean? Lard Vic-
tor Hassan B. What can it mean?” He
checked himself abruptly, and, turning upon
Brandt, said: “It is unnecessary for us to
give ourselves any anxiety in this matter.
it is simply lucky that we are so providen—
tially thrown on our guard.”

“ But what are we going to do?”

“You shall see,” replied Hallison Blair.
“ If I were so easily upset, as you, by trifles,
I don’t see what we would do.”

“ Trifles!”

“ Never mind. No more of it. You shall
learn ere long what course I propose to
adopt,” and a sinister light gleamed in his
dark eyes as he pulled the bell-rope. In an-
swer to the summons a servant stood in the
doorway—bowing low.

“Come, sirralit enter the room and'close
the deer. Why do you stand there? Shall
I break every bone and muscle in your mis-
erable body ?”

With commendable alacrity, the man closed
the door and advanced a few steps, reluctant-
ly, as if he momentarily expected some mis-
sile to meet him half-way.

“ Mark me. Do you know where is situ-
ated the National Gallery?"

“ Yes, my lord}?

“Close by to it you will notice a restau-
rant, or wine-saloon. Go there. Look about;
you, and you will observe a man who wears
a broad sombrero and a cloak; has black hair
and mustache, and eyes of a corresponding
color. Speak to him guardedly; let no one
who may be loitering near catch our words.
Say to him that Lord Hallison lair desires.
to see him without delay. If he chooses to
follow you, then conduct him to me. Do
you understand my wishes?”

“Yes, my lord."

“Then make haste upon your errand. Or
shall I make you bear a note to him, telling
him to send you in pieces the moment he sees
you—good! e's gone,” and as the servant
disappeared Hallison resumed his walk up-
and down the room.

“ Who is this man you’ve sent for?" asked
Brandt, when they were alone.

“ Hal hat hal he‘s not a man—he’s afiend,
adevil, a Satan in the garb of man. For
twenty pounds I could bribe him to quarter
you, and feed your bleeding body to the
Thames. Ha! ha! ha!”

Gulick Brandt felt an icy shiver creep over
his frame. -

“But don't be alarmed,” added the Eng-
lishman, "‘ I shall not bribe him to that end.
I have other plans.”

The afternoon was then well advanced,
and twilight shades were deepening in»
night ere the servant who had been dispatch-
ed to Trafalgar Square returned. When he
came he brought with him the man to
whom he had delivered Lord Hallison’s mes-
sage.
Blair knew this, for the reason that, even
in the room where he and Brandt were seat-
ed, the hall-door was distinctly heard to
open, and shut with a bang, and in a second
thereafter, was audible a growl. something
like the grumble of distant thunder, and the

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Detective Fleet of London.

13

 

 

servants could be heard running away from
the vicinity of the front entrance.

“\Vhat does that mean? Some one has
forcibly entered your house — perhaps a
drunken man."

IIallison Blair smiled.

“ No, doctor, it is all right.
presently, the man I sent for."

In a few minutes a heavy footfall was
heard upon the stairs. The Englishman
waited expectantiy. Doctor Gulick Brandt
was silent in his surprise. Unannounced,
as if he Were owner of the palatial residence.
this strange visitor burst open the door with
hardly an effort to turn the knob. and roared;

“Dias! but it is a more tedious Way up
here to the rooms than all the walk from
Trafalgar Square. My legs tire with hav-
ing to mount so many Steps, and I‘m in a
r-r-rage of impatience. By the bald head
of his holiness the pope! turn our house
down side upward, my lord, that may reach
you the easier when you send for me.”

You shall see,

 

CHAPTER XII.
'rnE BULL FIGHTER.

Tms visitor was a Spaniard by birth—as
a glance at his swarthy features told; a ruf-
flan by nature—as the flaming, leering eyes
betrayed; by profession a bull—fighter; by
name Diego Perez; the bravo, the rough, the
man who eluded and defied the authorities by
day, and prowled, shadow-like, at night,
committing daring and successful burglaries
under Cover of the darkness.

He was tall, broad, heavy; muscular as a
gladiator: attired partly in the costume of
the Spanish arena. and partly in the more
civilized style of English, while over his
arm was slung a long sable-hued cloak. A
loose blouse was thrown carelessly open at
the front, as also was a colored shirt of
woolen fabric, exposing a massive, hardened
chest,‘and from an inner pocket hung the
stock of a istol. His great hat was pulled
down unti it touched the knolled, bushy
brows, and underneath the latter two glaring
eyes, black as coals, with the glisten of a
dagger, flashed defiance and insolence up-
on .the beholder. His lips, like those of an
angry mastiff, drew back. presenting long,
strong, snow-white, regular teeth that grated
and gritted till one’s blood fairly curdled.

.In all, he was just such a character as
would, by his tOWering build, murderous
visage, immense strength and heavy. grind-
ing voice, strike terror to the timid heart.
Having delivered himself, as we have seen,
he strode forward and appropriated the casi-
est chair he could find.

“ You should be introduced to the public
by means of the theater stage, Diego,” re-
marked Hallison Blair, arising and proceed-
in to close the door—which oflice the bull-
flg ter had neglected.

“Devils seize the theater. and its stage,
tool" snarled the rufflan, doflln g his hat, and
brushin back the matted looks from his
forehea . “My stage is the gallows; and
the hangman Will introduce me to the public
some day.”

“I sent for you, Diego, to say that I have
something for you to do. But 1 see that you
are cross this evening.”

“ I am cross at all times. I am like a dog
-—mad at every moment of its life, so that
when it bites, though it played with you like
a kitten, its tooth is poisonous as if it raced
about withhydrophobia.”

r,“ “There It! wine 0n the table. Drink, and
wash some of the fire out of your brain.”

“ Obliged to you, my lord. Feed fire with
fire, and let us see the cfkctf'eo saying the
Spaniard raised the decanter toms lips, and
guzzled a long draught. He looked upon
the tiny wine- glasses contemptuously. Satis-
fying his thirst, he set the decanter down,
smacked his lips in a lively way, and return-
ed to his seat.

“Tim is a. friend of mine, Diego, whom
you have never seen. This is Diego Perez,
doctor.” '

“Deer of odd jobs, and attender of cut-
throat affairs for his lordship,” chimed in
Diego. with .a nod of his shaggy head; “how
(1’ e do?”

randt merely bowed. He was studying
the man before him, and the result 0 his

«conclusions was—a villainous. treacherous
rascal; an individual addicted to vicious
habits; yet, withal, just the fellow to rid you

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of an enemy either by knife-thrust or bullet,
when money Was to be the reward.

But what did Hailison Blair want of such
a person? Wait. We shall see directly.

" \Vell, Diego, you are a great villain—do
you know it ?” s id the Englishman,

“Yes; I knogv it. In Madrid I fought
bulls, drew their warm blood with a trusty
sword. Here, in London—bah} one must
depend on his brain alone; must fight men
with cunning. It is dull for me. this bleed-
ing of purses, and plundering of rich houses,
and hum-drum fiddle—faddlc at, the gaming-
saloons, where I am rich to-day and poor to-
morrow, by turn. Iam sick of it. Iwant
to Use steel.”

“Perhaps you will have a chance to wet
your rusting blade, ere long, Diego.”

“ Pohl 1 Wish I could believe it. Men
avoid me. They shrink from a quarrel with
Diego Perez, because he is l‘OVt’llgt‘flll as a
hyena, strongr as an ox, and deadly as a Cobra
di capello. I would I Were Weaker, that
they might fear me the less, and seek a (hill-

culty with me when Icall them liars, f0ps,
cowards. You know the young Viscount
Berkley ‘2”

“ Yes, I know him well. I won a thousand
pounds from him a night or two since.”

“So? Well, Ispit upon him last night,
before a. host of others, as cowardly as be.
He grew red in the face, and his rage burst
out, but he said nothing to me. I even offered
him a knife, and dared him to a fight—agree-
ing to whip him, myself unarmed. But he
fled—ran away like a yelping dog that had
been kicked. Ha! ha! ha! I laugh when I
think of the sorry show he made. But you
said I might have an early chance to color
my knife-blade. What do on mean? Say

your say in a bunch, my 0rd, and not in
ittle dribs, or you will tire my ears to catch
a meaning. If there‘s bloody work, say so—
and where's the money for it?”

“ I will be brief as possible. I have work
for you to do—work which, if well perform-
ed, and you should be discovered, would send
you first to jail and then to the gallows. It
is dangerous and bloody. Now, do you un-
derstand me ‘3" '

“Dias! yes.
pays___ll

“ It will pay handsomely.”

“ Good. As for the danger. Madre .’ I
can face it.. Discovery I fear not. Tell me
what to do, and pay me well, and may Satan
seize the pope if there happens a botch in
my task!” ‘

“You sre, doctor,” said Blair, turning to
the physician, “this man will do anything I
desire. simply for the asking.”

“And good pay," quickly‘ corrected Diego,
with a growl.

“Of course," acquiesced the Englishman,
and the bull-fighter pursued: ~

"Come. come; what is it I am to do? It
is full dark outside, and I live a l g ways
from here, when Madge Marks has a supper
waiting lorme ere this. Whatever you have
to ca must be spokenat once. ”

“ on know where the — Hotel is?’
questioned Lord Hallison.

" Yes.” with a snarl.

“ There is stopping there," continued Blair,
“9. young man, who has registered himself,
‘Lord Victor Hassan B.’ " l

“I know that,” interrupted Diego. “ I
happened in at the office, not thirt hours
ago—primped like a band-box dun y, and
waiting to see a rich gentleman, who owed
me check-wager—aud to pass the time I
glanced at the book on the counter. I won.

cred who, in the flend’s name, Lord Victor
Hassan B. was. Ihave not heard of him.
But 0 on; what of him?"

“ e is my enemy.”

" You have a great many. m lord.”

“True. But this one, dead iest of all, is
beyond my reach.”

“ You mean that I must deal with him?"

“I do. And so does my friend here, Doc-
tor Gulick Brandt.”

“ Yes,” assented the physician, “ we want
him removed from our path.”

“That I see plainly,” said Diego; “so it
is settled. But the pay is the the thing now.
How much money, my lord? My pocket is
drained. It is a deep one, and it needs fill-
in r.”

“I’ll give you twenty pounds."

“Twenty pounds!" and the two words
were ground between the Spaniard’s teeth

As for the work—if it

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like corn in a mill; while his tone was sneer-
ing, contemptuous. sarcastic, “You will
pay me twenty pounds to rid the World and
you of an object that hurts nobody? How
generous! How liberal! Bah! a dozm
times, bah! I would not raise my hand to
strike asqualling cat for such asum. Twenty
pounds! Think of it! D1703! have you a
mind to beggar yourself? Seriously—this
will not do. Twice. nor thrice that amount
will not do. Make it a hundred pounds, and
our bargain is done.”

“I was only feeling you, Diego,” smiled
the Englishman; “ we are Willing to pay you
a hundred pounds, if you will swear by the
Virgin to rid us of this enemy. Is it not so,
doctor ?”

Brandt assented. and the bull-fighter said:

“I swear by Satanl—not by the. Virgin.
for the oath would not bind me. \Vuen we
pray, we pray to the Virgin; when \\ e curse,
or swear. or make oath, it is by his majesty,
the devil.”

“Either or both, Diego, it makes no differ-
ence tome. \Vill you do your task for the
hundred pounds?"

“ Yes,” with a grunt.

“ Are you sure you know your man ‘2"

“Yes,” with another grunt.

“Then kill him, Diego—kill him! Don’t
let him escape you. i will pay you half
your money now, and the balance when your
work is done."

Lord Iialli80n Blair arose. and going to a
large secretary, opened a drawvr which eon-
t~tined the book of his bank account. Tear-
ing out a blank, he wrote. a check for fifty
pounds, and handed it to Diego Perez.

“There it is." he said. “ You can draw
it at leisure. When you are ready to report
to me the fact thatthis ‘Lord Victor Ilassan
B ’ is no more. another like it awaits you.
Are vou satisfied?”

“Yes, I am satisfied, and obliged to you,
my lord.” and the bulLfighter carefully fold-
ed, and placed in a pocket, the check he had
received.

“Now, Diego Perez, be sure you do not
fail,” spoke Guliek Brandt, at this point.

“Fail!” was the quick, savage rejoinder,
and the accent, the tone, the force of utter-
ance, was so unexpected that the physician
started. “Fail, did you say? Wherefore
should I fail? Do you sce me? Can you
read me? Do I look like a man who would
fail? He who suggests failure to Dir-no
Perez makes himself my enemy, and I'd
crush him beneath my foot as i would a
poisonous spider i Fail indeed !" This
speech was followed by a hiss from the lips,
a grindin of the teeth, a knitting of the
brows, and Blair glanced at the physician
in a way that conveyed the words:

“ Be careful. If you make him your ene-
my, it were better for you had you neVer
been born.”

“ When will you go about this thing?"
asked the lord.

" The sooner the better, I imagine. Does
that suit you?"

“ Perfectly.”

“Then I will be ofl,"sayging which, he got
up and walked toward the door.

Lord Hallison was about to follow the bull-
flghter, when the latter paused abruptly, and
said:

“ No need to trouble yourself. I can find
the way out." o . _

He quitted the room; they heard his
heavy step in the entry; then he descended
the stairs, and an indistinct roar came to
their ears as the servants were heard scat
terin before him as they had when he came
in. he front door banged, and silence
reigned.

“ He ll gone,” said Blair.

“And Iam glad of it,” added the physi~
clan. “1 half fear him, even though he is
I should tremble

or my life if I met him in' the dark."

“You would have cause to. if he knew
you carried money about your person. You
did wrong in suggestin a failure to him. I
saw by the glitter of Iris e es that he was
slightly angered. Perhapsi will amount to
nothinw, though. I know how to deal with
him. I picked him up ina gamblin saloon,
a half-starved wretch—fed anti clot ed him.
He has been a handy tool ever since. Wht n
I am in a difficulty from which I cannot ex-
tricate myself, I send for Diego Pi‘l't'z.‘fliltl

 

he adjusts it to my benefit. He is feared by

 

 

 

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'14 .

Detective Fleet of London.

 

allwith whom he mingles. You have seen
him in a tame state. When you behold him
enraged, boiling with passion, then you hear
the roar of a lion, the yelp of a wolf, the cry
of a panther; see the battling of a Bengal
tiger. I have seen him whip adozon men,
though every man held a cocked pistol, and
feared to discharge a shot at him. He is a
bloodhound, fierce and «terrible, when money
is the incentive; and if Victor llassan es-
caped our first blow at his life, he will not
escape the second. 110 is doomed from this
hourl But how strange it seems to me, that
he was not killed !” and IIallison Blair fell to
musing inwardly

CHAPTER XIII.
01.1) MADGE.

THE bull-fighter wrapped his heavy cloak
about him, and hurried on through the
streets, turning numerous corners, and anon
passing through courts and alleys. in order
to make his o‘ioincward route the nearer.
As he walked along, he muttered half-aloud,
cursing the distance that was necessary to he
traversed ere he could partake of his evening
meal. Alternately mumbling and swearing,
with his eyes fixed upon the pavement, he
abruptly came upon three men who stood
before the entrance to a gambling-hell noted
for its richness of interior and flourishing
business.

At sight of Diego Perez, one of the men
said to his companions:

“ Here comes the Spaniard now.”

Though it was not intended for Diego’s
ears, he heard it and instantly paused in his
walk.

“ Well, it is I. What then? ’ he demanded.
“ Have you aught to say?”

One of them, a young man of not more
than twenty-five years, but whose features
indicated dissipation, stepped forward, say-
ing: '

“ So Diego Perez comes to try his luck at
cards again to-night, eh? Are you possessed
of considerable money that you wish to
lose?” ’

“The first is a lie! The second is im-
pudence! Are you suited in my answer,
Viscount Berkeley?” and Diego gazed with
open contempt upon the slenderly-formed,
lfltippishly-attircd individual who addressed

m.

But he perceived that those who were
with the young Viscount were not of. his
own rank. They were men with bearded
faces, dark features, dark eyes, muscular
limbs; and seemed as if waiting for a word
from him who was evidently performing the
part of spokesman.

When the bull-fighter had measured these
men, and bestowed a searching lance upon
the Viscount, he muttered, whi e his hand
glided to the pistol beneath his blouse;

" There is mischief in this. Here is the
fellow I spit upon last night. He feels sore
yet from the insult. He would have satis-
faction. These allies are hired to attack me.
Let them try it. If I lay hands upon them,
I shall crack their brainless heads together till
they ring like bells.

“Your answer is not a suitable one con-
sidering our stations,” continued the vis-
count

“Then make what you like of it. As for
stations—pan I” snapping his fin ers indepen-
dently, and then he pursued: “ Vhat do you
want of me? You Were waiting forme—you
address inc—and yet you say nothing. If
this is all. stand asich Iain hungry, and
want m supper.”

“Ant who said we wished to exchange

' words with you, bragging Spaniard ?"

“Said, or unsaid, see you hesitate in
somethiu , noble coward.”

“ Hear ow he talksl”cried the young man
to his companions.

“Then why do you waste time with him?

At him now!” was their simultaneous re-
Joinder; and, as they advanced upon Diego,
the Viscount dpshed forward with upraised
arm. ' .
Quick as thought, though with apparent
ease, the bull-fighter caught the young man‘s
arm in a Vise like grip, and placed the cold
muzzte of a pistol to his temple.

in the Same moment. one of the others
came upon Diego‘s rear, struck him a blow
on the heaJ, and, whlle staggering- under its

effect, the pistol was wrencth from his grasp
and discharged.

The bullet cut a hole through his som-
brero.

At first, the Spaniard was surprised at this .

unexpected promptness and/success of action;
and for a brief space they clung tenaciously
to him, hammering him with their fists, yet
striving, invain, to bring him to the ground.

Then there was a growl, he shook them
off, vented a loud roar, and laid about him
with all the telling force of his enormous
strength.

Whiz l thug !
found himself spinning like a top out into

the center of the street, where he sprawled, '

full length.

The attacking party were strong, but they
did not know their man.

Diego Perez kept his word.

4- l
Ile knocked them down as a careiul play- :

or will a set of nine~pins, and when they
scrambled up. he sent them to the earth
again~liis ponderous fist cutting, and cir-
cling. and darting horizontally through the

air like lightning streaks, and with irre-:

sistible precision. With every sweep of his
brawny arm there issued from his lips a
grunt.

Seizing a favorable opportunity. he rrasp-
ed his assailants. one in each hand, am at a
jerk, brought their heads together with a
stunning crack.

Pausing to bestow a kick upon the vis-
count, who had returned from his first ex-
perience and was about to renew the attack,
Diego Perez uttered a hoarse iaugh, and,
picking it the pistol, which lay at his feet,
started 0 at a slow pace, glancing over his
shoulder to see if they dared to f. llow him.

When the Viscount Berkeley could collect
his scattered senses, and found breath to

The Viscount Berkeley,

' get outside, I shall eat it nevertheless.- ~ So
I give it to me.” and his capacious jaws were
! 80011 hard at work.
Suddenly, Madge cried:
“ Hal Diego, what‘s this on your sleeve—
, blood?"
g “ Yes, blood,” he replied. indifferently, as
l he raised the beer—mug to his lips.
} “And how came it there?" she continued,
! interrogativcly.
I “Why do you ask?
my actions always. I am tired of it.
i your peace.”
“ Tell me how the blood came upon your
; sleeve,” persisted Madge Marks.
Diego finally told her of his fight in the
1 street; and at the conclusion of his explana-
tion, she shook all over, as she laughed in a
. harsh, sepulchral way. Suddenly, however,
: she sobered down, and asked:
“ But what were you doing at the mansion
‘ of Lord Ilallison Blair? We bargained to
keep aloof from him, you know.”
| “Look at me!" bellowed he. “You see
me? Do you read me? Am I one who
would tell all his secrets at the asking?"
l With this, he turned again to his rcpast.
, But Madge screamed in his ear:
“Devils on earth! am i a baby, that you
l think I'll prattle them about like a brainless
child? Tell me your business with the Bug
lishman—if you had any.”
i “ I had none,” was the Spaniard’s brief
' answer. hoping to end her cniiosity.
“Now you are lying, Diego Perez. I see
, the falsehood in your face—read it in your
, words.”
At this, he started up, and raised his great
fist to strike her. Madge Marks flinched not,
{ but looked him steadily in the eyes, while
; she sneered:
i “ Strike!

You seek to pry into
Keep

Strike if you dare! You know

speak, he raVed at the men who had suffered l me better than to do that,” and there was a
in his employ; called them fools, cowards; 5 deep significance in the banter which caused
tried to bribe them by rich offers to ursue ; him to pause in what he was about to do.
the bull-fighter. But they ShOOK their now | Grumbling in a dissatisfied way, he resumed
half-crazed heads, and muttering maledic ’zhis seat. and she resumed her importnnities.

 

tions on the fate that had led them into such
a plight, slunk away. ,

The Viscount entered the gaming-house.

In a dark. fllthy, and naturally uninviting
alley, which branched off from one of the
more secluded thoroughfares, was situated a
dingy-looking, dilapi atad building termed
a house. It was the home, the abode of
Diego Perez; occupied by himself and an old
hag, known to the neighborhood as Madge
Marks.

This woman, being somewhat connected
with our story, must necrssarily be intro-
duced to the reader; and. therefore, we look
into the habitation, select its chief and best
room, which is, at most, a dirty den of foul
odor.

A candle burns upon a table; beside. it sat ‘

a bowl and plate, and knife and fork, as if
the arrival of some one was momentarily
expected; while she who baked the coarse
bread, and made the muddy cofl’ee, sits be-
fore the hearth, gazing silently into the
smolderin r embers.

Madge
build; a bag of ugly mien; disagreeable to
look upon, for, about the corners of a tooth-
less mout , were yellow streaks, which told
that she .hewed snuff. Her features were
wasted and wrinkled in flabby seams. The
comb and brush were strange to her thick,
black and wiry hair. Her eyes, small, jet-

black, still sparkled and flashed like the orbs ;

of a serpent, and the fire therein bespoke an
evil nature—one much to be feared.

She feared neither man, beast, God, nor
devil. She loved liquor, and was addicted
to fits of drunkenness, in which none could
manage her but Diego Perez.

She was sober now. She sat there, reflect-
ing, absorbedly, upon something, which, in
all probability, was—nothing.

Presently the door opened, and a man en- E

tered. it was Diego; and as he drew up a

chair to the table, be cast aside his hat and .

cloak. growling, at. the same time:

“ Here I am, Madge Marks, and starved to '

madness. Where is my supper?”

“It’s a sorry meal to-night, Diego,” re-
turned the hag, as she proceeded to place
the rough fare before him.

“\Vell. well,” he said, and the voice
Seemed to issue from the very pit of his
stomarh. “good or bad. I am starved. I say;
and if it be not so good as what I ofttimcs

I l
Iarks was a woman of masculine v

i There was one person who kn w Diego
,Perez, and did not fear him. Time was
f one person whom the bull-fighter would not
injure by insulting word or angry blow.
That person was Madge Marl-1s ; and
whether it was that her glance, her speech,
her action awed him, or that he feaml her,
from some secret. inexplicable cause. was a
question which the Spaniard himself could
not anSWer.

“Will you tell me—surl
business appointment you ha
ship?"

Perceiving that she would not cease to
torment him, he related the baigain he had
' entered into with the Englishman; and con.
. cluded by saying:

“The money is all mine this time. No
half for you. SO let that end our talk about
it.”

He expected her to cry out“ for half the
mOney immediately, but, to his surprise, she
remained quiet for a few seconds. her eyes
' bent upon the bare floor. Then she looked
up, and said:

' “ You must not do this deed, Diego."

i “Not do it!" he roared, in astonishment.

% “Hot what's the matter now? llas Madge
Marks joined the church? Has she reform-
ed ?—be00me a cackling preacher on the Vi( e
of murder? Baht let me alone! This is my

‘ affair—not yours. Keep your peace.”

wolf Y—w hat
with his lord-

' repeated the bag emphatically.

Diego Perez \\ as, at first. astonished.
Now he was bewildered. Ilithcrto Madge
had always been with him. heart and soul,
in every plot or scheme to obtain pioney-
Here Was a chance for him, and she protest~
ed against it! What meant this sudden
change in her nature? Why must be fore-

0 his promise to execute that for which
iord l-Iallison Blair had agreed to pay him
so liberally?

“Look at me! You see me? Do you
read me? Am I one to be deterred from an
object wherein lies money? Here is a hun-
dred~ ound chance."

“ on must not do this deed,” said Madge
I’ Marks, again, her emphasis of Speech more

marked than before; and then she mused
F aloud, though it was apparent that she did
not Speak for Diego's benefit; “ What’s this

Ihear? Diego to kill him? How strange!

It's a long way back—yet my brain is gOOd.

“ Diego, I say you must not do this deed,”

 

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for it—twenty-five years—no, twenty-eight.
TWenty-eight years since Sal, my sister,
brdught me the babe. It was three years
old then. Sal‘s dead now, I guess. I have
not heard of her for nearly twenty years. I
saw her once after lcamc back from Ameri-
ca. Can this be him ?—Lord Victor Ilassan
B.?. They called him Victor Hassan. I
called him Vic. till Icut away from him
But here is Lord Victor Hassan B. Diego
is about to kill him. What if it should be
the child? I would Save him; not that I
care for him an atom, but because I hate the
usurper of his rightsl—I hate the man, the
son of my sister, who revels in wealth that
is not his. This must be prevented.”

CHAPTER XIV.
EXPLANATORY.
II" we would keep matters in hand, it is
now necessary that we turn back a period,

and ascertain how it was that Victor liassan .

was not killed, as his enemies supposed;
how it was that he escaped from his secret
grave—a thing which would seem both
miraculous and impossible, when We con»
sider how carefully he Was buried in that
grave, in a box, with the lid fastened down,
and heavy earth packed upon it.

It is also essential that we follow him after
his delivery from death to see wh he was
registered on the books of the — iIotel, in
London, as Lord Victor ilassan B.

The young man was merely stunned, un~
conscious, 'et in a state so nearly bordering
on actual d3eath that his would-be murderers
were completely deceived.

When they left him they considered him
dead; while, even as they ascended the
stairs leading from the cellar, their intended
victim was slowly recovering his senses.

When the heart resumed ts re ular beat-
ing, the blood its natural flow, am the facul-
ties asserted their sway, it required consider-
able effort to recall the past, and having done
this, his thoughts tended to a realization of
the resent. '

here was be? He reached out his
hand; to the right. it came in contact with
rough wood; to the left, it encountered a
like substance; overhead was the .same: he
was lying, prostrate on his back, on hard
boards.

“What can this mean?" he exclaimed;
and the hollow, choked, sepulchral tones of
his voice alarmed him. He noticed that his
respiration. was heavy, despite himself; he
was cramped, though he could raise his arms
above his head; no sound came to his ear;
all was hushed, fearfully still. '

The atmosphere grew warmer; he breathed
heavier: and as the moments passed, there
came before his strained vision red and yel-
1on flashes of light, and moving spires of
blue and green, studded with golden, flam-
ing dots.

The time flew by. He kicked at the
wooden covering above him; he hallmed;
he pounded with his fists, until his knuckles
were sore and bleeding, and his voice hoarse
and unnatural. All in vain. After eVery
cry, every eflort to release himself from his
strange, dark, horrible prison, there came
the same ominous, mocking silence which
maddened the brain and checked the pulsa-
tions of the heart.

Suddenly he comprehended his situation,
and he trembled in ungovernable horror.

~' He was buried alivel

He Cl'itd out afresh, kicked the stronger,
pounded the more determinedly; but onl
to experience a result similar to that whic
had attended his former exertions—fatigue,
alarm, despair.' Finally, he sunk back,
helpless; the hot air grew hotter. Then
came a ringing in the cars, as if numerous
drums and cymbals, at a long distancecfi,
were rapidly approaching 1n hammering.
rattling, clashing discord.

Ile gasped for breath. IIis senses spun
around as in a maelstrom, he was falling
back to insensibility, and thence, perchance,
to death.

But, at that critical moment, he caught
the faint sound of a step directly over his
head. He was seized with new hope, new
strength of voice and limb. He cried out
with despairing energy:

“Help! help! help!” and immediately
heard a voice exclaim:

v  -
|"  ." x ’1:
‘ u 1‘! _ ' ’

 

“ Mercy on us! what’s that 7"

“Help! help!” he shouted.
am buried alive! Here l—underneath your
feet. ’

There was a timid scream, and some one
answered, in female accents:

“ It's Mr. Victor Hassan! Where are you,
sir? I'm frightened to death—”

"Kate! Kate! don’t you know me?
bend—buried right under your feet!
suffocating—dying!"

“ Land's sake! it’s a ghost!”

lam
Iam

(9
“)0, no, no; it is I—Victor Ilassan. I

don’t know where I am, cxcr-pt that I am in
the ground, underneath your feet. Help me
out—quick! or I shall die.”

Though frightened half out of her wits,
when first attracted by the voice of appeal,
which seemed to issue from the very how'els
of the earth. the girl finally mastered her su-
perstitious feeling, and compiehendcd that
there actua'ly was alive mortal beneath her,
covered up by the new. damp car h.

As Victor renewed his urging, she. grasped
a pick, struck into the ground with all her
strength, and had the satisfaction of hearing
it strike a hard substance.

Then, alternately using shovel and pick,
the lid of the box was at. length exposed.
and torn open. when Victor Hassau dragged
himself out into the pure air.

“Land's sake!” exclaimed his deliverer,
throwing aside the implements which she
held. and quickly assisting him—for he tot~
tered weakly, under the sudden, joy-giving,
life-preserving change.

“Land’s sake! Mr. Victor, how did you
eVer get buried there Y"

“Get me some water, Kate—quick!" in a
husky, failing tone.

At one side were sundry shelves contain-
ing wine, and hurriedly procuring a bottle,
she handed it to him, as a substitute for the
beverage he asked. “

To break the neck. and drink the stimu-
lating liquor in eager gulps, was but a mo-
ment's work, and he immediately felt invig
oratcd by the draught.

“ How in the world did you get in there,
Mr. Hassan?" pointing to the grave; “and
—gracious me! you are covered with blood.”

a as few words as possible. he told her
how he had been holding conversation with
Hallison Blair in the arbor. when he was
suddenly struck a blow which rendered him
insensible: and how his mind had been a
blank, until he awoke to a realization of his
living tomb. ‘

Throughout his explanation, the girl lis-
tened attentively and in amazement.

“Now, Kate,” he concluded, “you must
say nothing about having rescued me. Be
sure and keep silent. I have a great ob-
ject.” ' r

“ Oh, to be sure! Iwon't say anything if
you don’t want me to.”

"But, how happened it that you so pro-
videntially came hc'c?“ Victor continued.

“There! that reminds me of my c'rand.
Mr. Blair sent me for some wine. [expect
he'll be angry at my staying so long " a rd
as she hastened to select a couple of bottles
from the shelves, Victor said, inquiringly,
and at hazard:

“I suppose Hallison Blair has already
made himself a sort of master about the
Home Mansion?"

“Yes, sir, he has. lie and that doctor
seem to be doing whatever they please. 1
don't know anything—l suppose it‘s all right,
though. It must be—”

“But it is not, Kate; and I hope to be
able to' show that to you, before a great
while. I think there is a piece of villainy
going on."

l. 

She was moving away, and he added:

“Ishall remain here. D') you perform
your errand, and then, return to me. When
you come, bring some water. so that I can
wash the blood from my face.”

The girl took up the candle, and he was
again enveloped in thick darkness—but how
different from that which had shrouded him
so reev‘ntlyl

He walked to and fro over the level earth,
stretched and exercised his arms and limbs.

it was this occurrence, this discovery of
Victor liassan, which caused the hesitation

of speech in Kate, the waiting-maid. when, '

after a long delay, she entered the presence
of Hallison Blair and the physician, hearing

I

 

i the wine on a salver, as was mentioned in a
“It is I. I

previous chapter.

VVheu the Englishman dismissed her, she
procured basin. water and towel, and hurried
back to the cellar.

The young man washed his face and
hands, cleaning them of the bloody stains,
and he bathed his bruised head—for Brandt
had struck him with a hard weapon of some
kind—~a heavy, convenient piece of wood, no
doubt—which left a blood-st -:'e welt.

“What time is it, Kate?" he inquired, as
he finished with the towel, and turned to
her. ‘

“Why, it‘s after dark!"

“And it Was nearly four o‘clock when I
stood in the arbor, ’ he mused, aloud.

“Didn‘t you go home after the funeral,
Mr. llassan‘t"

“No. I came directly back to the man-
sion, in hopes of seeing your mistress, l’au-
line. But I could not. They said she would
See no one; not even me

" Ah! my poor, dear young mistress," she
said, sadly. “She takes on dreadful about
her dead father. And you. too, Mr. llassan;
she's sighiug your name all the time.”

“ She is? She is?” he asked, eagerly.
“ What does she say, Kate? Tell me.”

“ She wanted to see you very bad, sir; and
that’s why I think it’s so queer that the ser-
vants wouldn’t admit you.”

"More villainy!” he thought, “ for Halli-
son Blair, beyond a doubt, gave the orders
to the servants as coming directly from their
mistress. The day of retribution shall
come!"

" But, sir," interrupted Kate, “if you
didn‘t go back home, you must be hungry.
Shall I get you anything to eat ‘I”

“ Can you do so without betraying that I
am here ‘1’”

“ Oh, yes; easily enough,” and she started
up the stairs. ,

When she returned. she carried a small
waiter, set with plates of nourishing food,
and carrying in one hand a hat.

“ I thought maybe you might need this”
—handing him the latter article—" so
brought it.” a

A barrel served him as a table; and Kate
stOod beside him, holding the light, and lis-
tening to his disconnected but more minute
ex lanation of his situation.

be food, aided by more wine, generous
wine—

“ For if you do but taste
’Twill make your courage rise—"

of which there was a plenty, soon restored
to him his strength; and he signified a de-
sire to depart iqstantly, as something of mo.
mentous import demanded his prompt at-
tention. ‘

“ How can I get out without being seen ‘2"
he asked.

" Wait,” was the reply, “ and I’ll go around
and open the cellar window.”

\Vhen she had done this, and Victor
clambered out into the fresh air of the
world, he delivered a further admonition
that she should say nothing whatever con-
Cerning that which had transpired; and
thanking her with all the sincerity that filled
his grateful heart, for having preserved
him from a horrible death, he left her, say-
in :

g‘Good-by, Kate. You have saved my
life. and I shall never forget it. I Lupe I
maybe able, some day, to reward you as
you deserve."

" Good-by. Mr. IIassan,” and he was gone.

Victor went out to the road, where he
paused a few seconds, and appeared to he
resolvmg somethin in his mind. He soon
arrived at an inwar conclusion, for he start-
ed off. saying to himsglf:

“Yes, I must not delay. » I am, more than
ever, convinced now; and my nights would
be sleepless if I neglected this. I must walk
the whole distance, I suppose. But 0 I
must!" and he quickened. his pace. he
road was dark and deserted, and he was not
walkingr t0ward the city.

At the end of a mile. his ears were greeted
by sound of wagm-wheels in his rear, and
be halted, exclaiming:

“How fortunate! Here comes a wagon,
and perchance the driver goes Someth.‘e
near my destination,"

There was a loud whip-crack, a "gee-

  
  
   
 

‘l

  

 

up!" and the vehicle was nearly abreast of
him.

"Hold on, fricnd!’ cried Victor.
8. minute.”

“Hello!” returned the man, suspiciously,
though reining in his horses.

Victor advanced, and the other grasped
the small end of his cowhide whip, as it' he

“Stop

. distrusted this intrudur upon his solitary

ride.

“Which way do you go?” continued the
young man.

“ A considerable distance.
the reply and question.

“Do you go anywhere near Laurel llill
burial-grounds?"

“ Right past the gate—why?"

“I am glad to hear that: for I have to go
there, and I hope you will take me in the
wagon with you."

“That‘s a fac‘! It’s a right smart tramp,”
demurred the countryman.

“ \Vill you take me in?”

“ Yes—l guess so."

No more was needed.

In a brief space, Victor had gained the
seat, and as the horses were whipped up, a
lively conversation ensued. much to the
stranger’s satisfaction. who was glad to have
found so agreeable a companion.

Why?" was

 

CIl.\P'l‘ ‘th XV.
WHAT Tun DREAM-BOOK sun.

THE superintendent of Laurel llill ceme-
tery,la fussy, genial old bachelor, of nearly
sixty years, sat before the large lamp on his
center-table, in the small house on one side
of the great gate, when he was startled from
an absorbed perusal of a book by a loud
summons at his door.

“Now, what‘s that. I wonder?" and as he
jumped to his feet. very much like the noble-
man in“ lianca, or the. Magic. Sword," when
stalking skeletons came to «fine, w ith him, we
See the title of the volume he has been read-
ing—“Book of Dreams.”

“ Who's there?" he demanded. timidlv, as
the knock was repeated. and half faring to
open the door ivmm-tliatcly,.lest. Some grin-
ning ghost, in white shrmhi. might leer upon
him from the darkness out~ide.

“ Let me in," vx as the response.

“Now,” he concluded. confidently. “that’s
neither a specter nor a walkingr devil—why?
Because it speaks with mortal tongue. SO,
now, I'll let you in, whoever you are."

Having thus assured himself, he advanced
to the door, turned the key, and slid back
the bolts, of which there Were a number; in-
tended no doubt to shield him from prowl-
ing spirits, in the hour “when graveyards
yawn.”

Victor Hassan- entered; and the superin-
tendent bowed, bent. smiled, and said: ,

"Ah! goodevening to you. sir. This is

unexpected. PeOple. do not often come here ‘

at night. Take a seat, sir."

The young, man did as requested, and
when the worthy watcher of ('oilltrholed and
tomb-sunk ground had Carefully relocked the
door, and also seated himself, Victor ad-
dressed him with:

“ Ydur name is Kraak, I believe?"

" Yours truly—Simon Jeremiah Ebenezer
Kraak. At your service; air,” and the time-
worn countenance Was overspread with an
open smile.

“ Mr. Kraak, I have come upon important
business "

“ Aha! n0w here’s my dream out. My
dream! I dreamed that somebody came to
.see me in the night—a very dark night—and
made me dig graves Ha! I must look a' my
book and see what this signifies; for, here is
a visitor, and a dark night, and—well, that’s
half, anyhow," and he took the book from
the table. ‘

“ Mr. Kraak. I have no time to daily. A
life depends u n immediate action." ‘

But 8. J. E. tank was quietly determined
to know the meaning of his dream; and as
he turned over the pages. he said:

“Now, young man, you may be one of
those who don’t believe in dreams, or that.
dreams go by contraries—"

“I believe neither,”‘inte'rrupted Victor.
“I tell you you are wasting valuable time.
Listen to me. ’ ' ~

“But I, you see,” continued the superin-
tendent composedly. “:believe exactly what
you dream must come to pass. Ah! here it

b .

Detective Fleet of L0

w quently

 

ndon.

 

is. Here‘s what the book says of my dream.
ilear this: ‘Ile who dreams of visitors eom-
ing in the night—if they come to meet him
at a. church, or at a bedside in sickness, or at
a grth-yartlmmay depend that something
strange is brewing.’ Do you hear that?
Something strange is brewing. Further: ‘If
that court-r ask of the dreamer to perform a
singular task, it may be believed that fearful
discoveries are in storc.’ Do you hear that?
The, book is by a reliable author, and conse-

H

 

“ Are you done. with this nonsense?"

“ ()li, yr  That‘s all. Something strange
is brewing, for here is half my dream out,
you see. Now, young man, what is it you ,
have to say?"

“I am about to make a singular request."

“ Oh, that means ‘ l‘earl‘ut tliscoveiies.’
\Vhat can they bct‘ But go ahead.”

, “ You buried in these grounds, today, a
gentleman named Calvert I'Ierndon?" :

“ Yes, ytw, true; I did. He was a good
man, too. I knew his reputation, but I never
saw him.- Ile. had a fine collin."

“And that cotlin inelosed a live. man, Mr. ,
K raak. "

“ Eh?
dent Kraak, in. astonishment. and
comprehending V:ctor‘s words.
that you say, young man?"

“I say that the coffin contained a live man.
That is, Istrongly suspect so; and Calvert
.IIcrndon is now in a livmg grave."

“ Lord preserve me! what's all this?
Singular request—fearful discoveries—some ‘
thing strange brewing—I‘m frightened, I
am. You're jesting. Young man, do you
drink? You’ve guzzled too much. Your
head is upset. You’Ve wandered from home.
You'd better return as soon as possible," and
then, in hurried thought: “Living gravel ,
Not dead! What can he mean? I sha’n't
sleep this night!” _

“Iam in full possession of my senses,”
returned Victor, calmly. “You must go ,
with me to Mr. I‘Ierndon‘s tomb; the wrcket :
must be opened and the lid of the coffin re- .
mowed, so that we can satisfy ourselves, be
yond a doubt, relative to my suSpicion. ' If
there is any responsibility in the case, let it ,
rest. on me. I am wellknown in the com- E
munity.” |

The grizzled hair on Kraak‘s head stood
on end; his eyes widened like expanding 1
bubbles; he had scarce breath enough to
exclaiin: “Lord in Heaven, hear this!” and
he looked blankly at the composed features
of his visitor.

“ You have heard my business," (and
Victor arose from his seat); “now, put on f
you}; hatrlight your lantern, and come with
me.

“ Yo—yo—youn man, you are mad!”
brokenly ejaculate Kraak. , ,

“Bestir yourself, Mr. Kraak, if you would ,
aid in a good deed.”

“But this is lunacy!"

“It mav be wisdom.”

“it isn‘t! It isn’t! I say it isn't! To 0
and take a body from the tomb? To wa k
among the graves? Horror! Not wisdom, I
but absolute lunacy, this is!" '

“ Will you be quick, or must I go alone?”

‘ Alone! Would you dare to go alone?”

“Posrtively, yes."

“ SuppOse we should be seen—but you are i
craz l” -

" am not crazy, Mr. Kraak. I am bent ',
upon a good purpose, and I am determined. t
Will you light your lantern, and come with
me to the tomb of Calvert Herndon?"

"‘ To the tomb! Good Lord! what am I to
do?” cried the startled man, more to him-

What?-—what?" Cried Superinten-
not. fully ‘
“What's 1

 

 

 

 

self; “he will go in spite of me. I can’t
help it. Yet, he is crazy! An escaped
lunatic! An inmate of a near mad-house,

broken loosc—"

" Will you hurry, Mr. Kraak ?" interrupted
Victor, rroving toward the door.

"No—that is, yes. -Stop! I'll go with
you. I must go. I must guard my grounds
from injury.” And then to himself again.
as he took the lantern from its pin. “Oh!
oh! guard them I must. though I wish they
could take care of themselves Lord! what
shall I do? Yes, yes, I'm coming. I'm in a t
shiver. He’s a"atrong man, and I'm so old
and Weak. And he‘s mad! I must humor
him—coming right away. your most Royal
Highness—that! please im. Ishall die of
fright! Here is my dream. I’m doomed!

 

.1

3' r ‘ V 3 "' . . I. .‘ . ', t -‘ " n”, > .  )- t ».‘ “.
t. “‘11 ,I’Jq 4 ms - t. ,3, ’5. it. (a. .ga‘tllu' ~,. ,,.1. ‘ .1 jffiu we”, ‘. 4,, .443th L,  ._>‘__-:  '-’
. .v. I . . . !I a. .

.What will he do next?

Alone with a madman! Suppose he should
strangle me! Yes, your worshipful grand
self I'm ready.”

After much delay, and superfluous inm-
bling, the lantern was arranged, and Victor
said:

“Now, have the kindness to lead the way, .

and endeavor to act sensibly.”

“ \ es, I'll act sensibly. 0f courSe I'll act
stnsiblv. I am calm; I am collected; lam
\\ ith you in this wild—no, no, no—this most
cradle/it z'r/m. ‘ And aside: “ I must not let
him are I am excited. lle'll strangle me.
A madman! An escaped lunatic, etc.—
Vl'hat's that? Oh, it‘s only a tombstone.
Lord! Here we are all by ourselves, in a
lonely grave-spot. I'm dying with fear.
Perhaps take a
fancy to dig up all the graves around here!
(lood Heaven! and I can't help it. I can't
help it! This way, noble prince—this way.”

Victor smiled. lie readily comprehended
the other's state of mind, but said nothing,
and fol! Wed after the man, whose knees

, were (ptaking in verv fear and horror.

When they paused before the small iron
gate to the tomb, Superintendent Kraak
mustered strength to say: “ l’lease censider,
sir, what we are about to do. What if some
one should see us? They would SllOUt us
for body-snatchers. Shoot us! Think of
it! A cold piece of lead tearing through

‘ onc’s flesh—0h! Lord! don’t go any fur-
! ther.

Don’t! Come back to the little

house."

. ‘
“Open the wicket," commanded Victor,

somewhat sternly.

“ Ye—-ye—yes. Certainly! anything to
oblige you. Heaven presrrvc mo. here’s an
end to us both! There you are, king of the
world, and unrivaled sharer of the universe.
Enter.”

As the young man was about to step past

, the superintendent. he was struck with a

sudden thought.
lantern’s dim
Kraak‘s features.
printed pages.

“He wishes me to enter first,” be resolved,
mentally, “and then, when I am in, will
close and lock the wicket, thus making me a
prisoner. Then he will arouse the neighbor-
hood, if he can find any one, and proclaim
me a lunatic.”

I'Ie almost laughed aloud when he, read
this intent in the face of the afirighted man,
and stepping back, said; “You will go in
first, Mr.-Kraak,”

He paused, and by the
light. narrowly scanned
They were legible as

“ Now then, I’m a dead mortal!" groaned‘

Kraak, within himself, as her/hastened to
obey Victor‘s command; for he concluded
that any delay would insure his instant
death.

Keeping close watch upon the other’s
movements, Victor advanced to the trestle
which supported the coffin containing the
body of Calvert Herndon. .

“ Don’t touch it! Don't touch it!" cried
Kraak, while his limbs trembled, and the
hair upon his head fairly raised. “You’ll
arouse all the fiends. goblins, phantoms, etc.,
of the other world. Oh, Lord! let us go
away from here.”

“Silence!” rejoined Victor; and the
superintendent obeyed him. while he‘s‘nook
as with an ague, and rattled the lantern in
his hand.

Victor produced his knife, which was,
very fortunately, something more than a
mere penknife. and opening the large blade,
proceeded with considerable effort to turn
the coffin-screws.

While thus engaged, both distinctly heard
a smothered groan.

Victor uttered an excl ati‘on, and re-
doubled his efforts; whie Kraak became
whiter, more fearful, trembled till his teeth
chattered. .

“I told you so. That’s the vorce of the
devil! We’re done for! Heaven receive
my soul! there it is again! Oh! oh! Why
was I born? Why (lid ever I accept the
Superintendency of the Laurel Hill, with
its graves. and its tombs, and its dead
bodies, and the consequences of this horrible
night! It’s my dream. Something strange
brewing; fearful discoveries. Lord! there
it is again.” _

There was another groan came to their ears.

hushed. faint, yet audible; seeming to dwell

in the air, issue from the earth, exist upon the
lips of ya sepulchral invisibility.
if . "

, .

     

H41)

 

 

At l‘h‘l the first piece was removed and
turned down upon its hinges.

'l‘nougn Victor llasxin expecttd it,
though he wits prepared for it, he drew back
quickly, a shuddering thrill pervading his
system

Kraak stooped; the hat fell from his head;
his mouth opened; his eyes distended; the
astounding discoVery they had made, for a
moment, wrought such amazement in the
superintendent, that his Senses of fear were
paralyzed; he gaped at what he saw ~ motion»
less, pale as a ghost; holding the lantern
mechanically, for, in truth, he forgot it was
in his hand.

Detective Fleet

r

   

17'

 

QfLPWOH'

 

Kraak struggled to his feet. and stood'

gaping, staring, bewildered, as if [)(tWt‘I‘lOSS

to stir; butaroused by the young man‘s im- t

patient tone, hc hastened back to the house
at the gate, to procure the water, scarcely

, conscious of what he did.

\Vrapped in white, g-iuzy shroud, the‘

features immovable and of a dt-zuhly hue.
Calvert llerudon grind upon tnem, from
his coilin. with an unearthly expression
The bloodless lips moved fill'll, they uttered
no sound; the eyes elost-d \vearilv. the
head turned upon its narrow pillow of
satin, there was a deep sigh, then a
hushed surrounling. Kraak was Complete-
1y ovchome, and, letting fall the lantern,

 

 

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titttllllll  all
.., u ‘

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H

4/
I

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up
(/i.
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r/

V

BRANDT ROBE AND WALKED TO THE WINDOW. ITE SIMPLY WISIIED TO SEE PAULINE DRIVE OFF IN THE OPEN BAROITHE.

he sunk to the stone fl0or in a semi-conscious
state.

'Yictor Ilassan had been correct in his sus-
piCtons. It was no delusion when he thought.
that be detected upon (Jalvert llerndon slips,
as the latter lay in his coffin at the Home
Manston, a slight moisture; but it was a
fact now proved. There, in the tomb of the
dead within the sacred precincts of final
bodily rest, the lips were seen to move,
the eyes to gale—not vacantly nor staring,
but with the light of life; the Mud was Been
to turn; and as the atmosphere b02811 to act
upon the skin, a perCeI-itihle blush sufiused
the Cheeks.

_I“ortunately, Victor recovered himself in
tune to snatch up the lantern, which, but for
h S'prompt attention, would have been extin-
guished. Setting it upright, carefully upon
theflags, heagain plied his knife-blade to the
screws, Working with all the rapidity capable
to his energy, at the same time crying to the
superintendent:

“ (let up, man, got up. Don’t you see
Mr. llerndon is alive? But he has fainted.
Rou~e yourself, quick. and fetch some
water!"

llt 
l A;
.r 3

l

 

(‘ll.\l"l‘lilt XVI.
A itisst'itltI-zo'riox.

Winds Superintendent Simon Jeremiah
Ebenezer Kraak returned to the tomb, Vicr
tor had removed the whole eotlin-lid, torn
away that portion of the shroud \\ hieh con-
tined the hands; and the latter he was rub-
bing and chafing.

Receiving the pitcher of Water which
Kraak brought, he poured some of the cool-
ing liquid upon the merchant 's time, and pro
iusely bathed the pallid temples.

“ lie is alive,” whispered the superintend-

l

l

of my dream out. Something strange brew-
ing; fearful discoveries, etc., etc... etc. And
now, young man, you see, I am more firm
than ever in the beliefof dreams. So! Now
we'll get this gentleman from his horrible
bed. Ugh] what a predicament he has been
in!”

They gently raised Ilerndon from out the
coflin, placing him upon his feet, and sup—
porting him. “'hen they led him a step for-
ward, a cry of pain was wrung from his
lips, owing to the stiffened condition of his
limbs.

Victor and the merchant embraced. Their

 

l eyes Were humid With tears, and their voices

cut, as he gala-d in an awed manner at Vie— ‘

tor‘s proceedings, Now that. he saw there
was life in the body, he no longer, upon re-

,tlection, con~idcred his companion crazy;

 

but, wait'Jd anxiously, assisted chteriully in l

.Vlr’lil‘l “ll'

tl‘  .i
Jlllpil’illl/
' .1

//,

56/”
/

z 0///

,
/ //
4,524;

n
.

. >

the operation to restore Calvert Ilerndon to
consciousness.

Their persistent endeavors Wt re at last re~
warded. The merchant opened his eyes, and
exclaimed, in a weak voice: “ Victor, God
bless you !"

Then, as he caught sight of the pitcher, he

started to a sitting posture, and outstretched
his hands toward it in eager pleading; while
Kraak, totally unprepared for such a move-
ment, sprung backward, as though a grin-
ning skeleton or hungry ghoul were about to
grasp him.
. Victor did not permit the rescued man to
imbibe too copious a draught, lest the reac-
tion might prostrate him, but slowly satiatcd
Ilerndon’s thirst to an extent which he
deemed proper‘.

“ More. Victor, more!" he cried.

“ No. Mr. llerndon; too much will injure
you. Come—let me assist you from your
unpleasant position,” and as he thus spoke,
how his heart throhbed! llow the warm
blood coursed through his veins! He had
saved a ireeious life.

“ Lord savv me!” exclaimed Kraak, as he
came forward to assist; " here's the whole

choked. It was a pieture~the rescuer and
the rescued, two men, within a tomb, clasp-
ed in each other's arms, wcepiug like chil-
dren; while Kraak stood to one side, holding
the lantern, whose flickering ray was an
auxiliary to the impressive solemnin of the
scene; and the superintendent‘s face “as
expressive of deepest feeling: the eyes that

. had so recently started wide open with t: r

 

 

ror, now half-elosa d toehcck the sympathetic

 

 

‘t
*2
tear which trickled in a hot line down his
cheek.

When the first mutual transport was in a
measure lulled, they would have entered into
explanations then and there; but Kraak
said:

“Come, gentlemen, it‘s a had omen to
spend time talking among the dead. My
valuable dream-hook cautions against that.
So, we"‘ go back to my little house, where
you can talk as much as you please. Come.”

Before leaving the tomb. Victor readjust-

ed the coffindid; and then they went out,
closcd and locked the iron wicket, and con-
tinued slowly toward the house at the en-
trance gate—Herndon supported by them;
one on each side.
' When they reached the house the super-
intendent produced some wine and edibles
from a well-lardered closet, and set them be-
fore the famished titan.

llerndon appeascd his hunger and thirst,
and at the conclusion of the impromptu meal,
asuit of clothes was furnished. A few mo-
ments sufficed to change the merchant‘s ap—
parel from that of the dead to that of the
living; and, though still very weak and pale,

 

 

is

t- t

 

18‘

Detective Fleet of Ifondon.

 

he gradually regained something of his old  transpire, flew to the sick-chamber to apprise

vigor.

Then ensued a lengthy conversation and '

explanation. The merchant told his terrible
suffering when, awaking from an insensi-

bility he could not account for, he found!

the merchant of the proceeding.
It was a terrible announcement.
“What? Pauline to be married to Lord

l Blair?" fairly screamed Victor.

“So the usher told me; and all the ser-

himself within the suffocatin confines of a ! vants were there!" said the old man. sad! '.
g .

coffin.
mouth opened wide; he leaned forward as if
fearing to lose any portion of the recital; his

, eyes were now enlarged with Wonder, as they

had been with fright when Victor forced him
to the tomb.

Victor Hassan also told his story, narrated
his experiences, and brought charge against
Hallison Blair for all that had transpired.
He made known how the Englishman had
declared that Pauline was his, on account
of change of determination on the part of
her father. erc the latter died, and concluded
bydenouncing Lord Blair as the author of all
the evil done. ~

Herndon reflected over the matter long and
silently, and was forced to the conviction
that Victor‘s sUspicions were well founded—
that it must be Hallison Blair who had per-
petrated all this foul work.

“ But come," said Victor, after a consider-
able pause. “ what shall be our course now?
Hallison Blair must certainly believe us
both dead. What shall we dot—face him at
once?"

“ No, no. Victor; let us wait," and the
reply was half-involuntary, as though the
speaker was thinking deeply; “I am very
weak after the trying experiences I have
passed through. My brain is confused. Let
us wait awhile. We mustnow feel our way.
for an enemy so unscrupulous would still
find means to accomplish his ends if he were
to suspect of our existence. He has, doubt-
less, so covercd his tracks, in this desperate

ame, that, even now, we would be thwarted
if we should confront him. Iam now re-
solved upon one thing—to give the villain an
opportunit to consummate the villainy he
has plotte , that his ruin may be overwhelm-
ing. It is the only way, I am convinced, by
which we can convict the scoundrel, and
convict him I will, at any cost. But secrecy
and silence are now all essential, if we would
succeed.”

“ I feel that this is the wisest course. if we
would give the villain his deserts. But oh,
think of Pauline's position! Can we not
communicate with her i" Victor spoke with
great earnestness. ‘

“ We’ll see. My heart is heavy for her,
but we’ll make her happy yet, my boy!” and
the merchant clasped the young man’s hand
fervently.

Victor sighed. To wait now was agony.
but prudence approved the merchant’s sug-
gestions; and so it was resolved to seek a
secret boarding-place—to let events develop,
and to act as the future should determine,
but always to be watchful.

So, dispatching Kraak for a cab, the two
men bade the superintendent adieu. at early

, dawn, and driving to the house of Ilerndon’s

old servant, they were, by six o’clock, safely
domiciled under the wondering but happy
old servitor's roof. ‘

But both men had counted too much on
their own strength, for the reaction, after so
much excitement, folloived; and so utterly
prostrated was the merchant that a low fever
set in, and a lethargy succeeded which gave
Victor the keenest anxiety, and for two days
he never left the bedside. A physician was
then summoned. and be pronounced the case
one of com lete nervous exhaustion; absolute
rest and reedom from excitement was his
only hope.

Ah, how weary passed the hours to both
father and lover! but, had they known all
that was transpiring in the Home Mansion,
not even that sick couch could have held
them prisoners. '

The old servant, having been commission—
ed to watch over the Mansion and to act as

Kraak sat silent, marveling. his]

 

 

“Oh, Heaven! is this the end for which
that villain has plotted?" moaned the mer-
chant. as he sprung up in his bed and at-
tempted to arisc. Reaching the floor, he
staggered, then fell heavily, overcome With
excitement.

“0n the bed with him, James!" cried
Victor. “ Tell him I am gone to the
church," and away the frenzied young man
went, little caring who saw him, or what
might happen.

He reached St. Paul to behold the crowd
at the door blocking up its entrance. To
get in was impossible. but on the husth
air came the, words, distinct and solemn:
“I pronounce thee. man and wife, in the
name of the Father, the Son, and the «Holy
Ghost. Amen!”

“Too late! Too late!" groaned the young
man, as he stood there like one stnpeficd.
“ ()ti. Pauline: Lost to Inc—lost!" He r
struck his hand to his half-crazed forehead.
“ 'l'he vultuie has seized the d )VC, but I Will
throttle the vulture and save her yet! Yes;
lost to me, but she shall not perish."

He was aroused by the pressing backward
of the crowd. The usher was opening the
way for the bride and groom to pass down
the aisle to the carriage in waiting. To act
now with prudence was an instinct. Draw-
ing forth his memorandum. the young man
penned a few words, torc out and folded the
leaf closely, and pressing up to the footman
of the carriage, put it in his hand.

“ Give this to the lady as she passes into
the carriage will you? Ilere is something
for your trouble."

The footman, beholdin g a five-dollar gold-
piece in his palm, smiled, and responded
with alacrity: “Certainly, sir; with pleasure,
sir!"‘and Victor hurried on over the way to
witness the end.

The bridal-party came forth; Pauline was
puSsed into the carriage by Lord Blair, but
her vail caught, as by accident. in the car-
riage door-knob, and she paused to dislodge
it. It was the footman‘s ruse to get at her
hand, into which he slipped the little piece
of paper, and Victor’s message was safe in
her keeping.

Did she know 'it was a message from her
mysteriously-absent lover that she clasped it
so fervently, and looked so inquiringly into
she footman’s smiling face? ,

The carriage rolled away, andiVicto‘r, with
a heart as heavy and yet as hot as molten
lead, hastened back to the sick-chamber of
the now doubly-bereaved father.

 

CHAPTER XVII.
ANOTHER DREAM.

BACK again in London.

In a quiet section of that vast, overgrown
metropolis of the British Empire was situ-
ated a neat cottage, owned by a widow lady,
whose needle and spare rooms were her solo
support—the latter generally being let to
students who sought the qiiietude and pri-
vac of the locality in which to puisue,
wit more ardent-y. their studies.

At a certain date su .sequent to the occur-
rences Set forth in our last chapter, there
were three upper rooms in this cottage en-
gaged and in use by four Americans, who,
for reasons of their own, preferred the hum~
ble accommodations provided here to the
blazing luxury of a hotel.

It was the close of a fine day. the diamond
stars, in myriad number, peeping from their
cerulean canopy in merry twinkles, and the
bustling widow had just Conic (iou'mstaii‘s,
after having carried the lamps to her guests.

In one of the rooms. seated with his el-
bows on a table, his chin supported in his

spy on Blair’s prom-edings. kept the two i hands, and eyes fixed steadfastly upon the

men apparently well informed, and thus, in l
_ : stature, spare features. grizzled locks, and
'simple-minded old man was no match for]

a measure. 'allayed their anxiety; but the

pages of a book, was a man whose small

genial expression of countenance, at once

such secrecv and art as Lord Hallison Blair , introduce our bachelor friend of Laurel Hill

could practice, for he learned nothing of the l Cemete

projected marriage of Pauline. and was as-
tounded, one day, to see a partv proceed
from the Mansion to St Paul’s, whither he

, Simon Jeremiah Ebenezer Kraak.
The boo in which he appears to be. so ob-
liviously absorbed is his favorite Book of

, Dreams; thou h, as he sits, seemin ly so in-

followed it, and there learning what was to terested and 0st to his surroun ings, his

9

l
.i~

 

 

mind d0es not dwell wholly on the printed
lines. At least, his eyes have rested, for the
last five minutes, on the same word, and a
train of thought was flushing through his
brain, Something like the following:

“ So 1,.Kraak, once a young man, now an
old man; once a poor man, then a rich man;
then again poor; and at sundry times in my
biest bachelor state, first a school-boy. then a
clei k, then a cook—luckily it was that I learn-
ed to cook when I was a boy—at times doing
nothing. at times doing something, alter-
nately nothing and something, somehow,
with somebody, and again with nobody, for
in my youth, my accommodateness in every-
thing made me valuable; finally a superin-
tendent of graves, a watcher of ghostly
flocks, a protector of inanimate flesh from
the claws of thieving body-snatchers—I, as
I said before, am reduced to a rather odd
and enjoyable situat.on. Here. 1 am; and
that‘s good enough. My board is paid; I’ve
nothing to do; I shouldn't complain. I don’t
complain, I won’t complain. Mr. llcrndon
—silly man to spend his money on nae—has
promised me idleness and case for the rest
of my old days. I am simply to swear that
i saw Mr. Ilassan get the old gentleman
out of a coffin. Swear that I saw it with
my own eyes. My own? Of course! how
could I see with another man's eyes ?
Umph! Why couldn’t I have stayed in
America and done this? Isn't there plenty
of paper. envelopes. stamps, ships, mails,
etc., etc.? But there’s where I’m a fool
again! I’m better off in England than in
America; not that there is anything in the
change of air, mode of law. or the like—I've
heard a great deal of talk about ‘dcar old
England,’ and that sort of thing, but what
does it amount to ? b'hucks l Spoiled
shacks, at that, as soon as you get there:
It isn’t like America—the home of freemen,
the haven for warm hearts and true souls, a.
generous refuge from the pricking malice
of a royal despot, the fortress to defy the
world; ah! me! my country ’tis of thee,
sweet landtof liberty, etc., etc. But it’s be-
cause 1 ve no marble slabs, and pointed
monuments with imitation angels to guard;
and when I go to sleep, Idon’t expect to
wake up and find an unrested dtad body
perambulating at my bedside. I knew by
the dream I had that something “as going
to turn up, and it has—it has! Lord! what.
strange things have happened sinci- I had:
that dream! That reminds me, by the
way, I was looking for an explanation of
the dream I had the other night. it was a.
very queer one, lthink. Let me see, now,
what in book says about it.” And :‘rousing
from hg meditation, he whisked the leaves
over in scarch of something which seemed
determined to elude him, and whiJi some—
thing, he was sure, was to be found in his
valuable Dream Book.

In another room, we find the tidy. pretty-
featured Kate, the waiting-maid, who saved
Victor Hassan’s life at the Home Mansion.

Calvert Hernddn and Victor IIassan are
seated, conversing, in a third room at the
home of the widow.

“ We have done nothing yet, Victor.”

“No,” returned the young man, “ nothing
at all,” his tone low and thoughtful, like his
friend’s.

“And you have seen Pauline?"

“Twice,” was the reply, and Victor’s face
wore a. pained expression; “ once. I saw her
on the drive at Hyde Park; a second time,
passing through this very street in her ba-
rouchc.”

“ How did she look, Victor? Did she see
you ‘2”

“ No; she saw me not. Her ap arance—
alas, my heart throbs when I reco lect; for I
could not see in Lady Blair the sWeet, gentle
Pauline, who was once mine. Oh! how my
brain whelms with grief! ’

“Cheer up, Victor. Do not grow so dc-
Sponding, my dear boy. I am tortured be-
yond measure, and you must aid me in re-
taining mental strength; for, remember, I
am older than you, very many years. and
besides. Pauline being my own. only, warm-
ly-cherished child, my agony of mind is no
less, if not more than ours. We shall strike
our biow ere long. an crush the villains who
have wrought our mutual misery. We shall,
at least. See. meted out that punishment so
justly meiited by the wicked. Come: bear
up.’

C

\

   
 

Q

“Detective Fleet! of London. i”

 

19

 

 

Victor arose from his chair.

“ Let us go out for a walk, Mr Herndon.
I must have some fresh air. I am nearly
choked in this confinement. Will you go
with me for a short stroll ?”

“Yes, yes I need a drau ht of the pure
air. too. We will take a wal '——”

He did not finish his speech. for, at that
instant, the door opened, and Kraak rushed
into the room, carrying the Dream Book in
his hand, and his face betraying a high state
of inward satisfaction.

“ Here i Here i” he cried, jubilantly.
“Look! Listen! I‘ve found it—hei'e it is!
Iknew it was here. I always find it here.
I’ve got it! I—l—”

“ What, Mr. Kraak?” inquired Victor,
while he and Ilerndon found it impossible to
refrain from smiling.

“Why, my dream, of course,” answered
Kraak. “ Here it is!"

“ Your dream?" interrupted Victor. “ \Ve
were unaware that you had had any recent
vision.”

“ That’s a fact,” realized Kraak. “ 1 didn’t
tell you of it. Well, then, you must know
that, night before last—”

‘ The evening we had the wine in our
rooms?" inserted the young man, suggestive-

”Ay,that was the night," assented Kraak,
not seeing the pomt. " I went to bed rather
late, you know—hem! rather late—but, then,
that hadn't anything to do with it! I
fell asleep in my chair. I dreamed there
were a great many packs of cards—«all alive!
Do you hear that? All alive! And these
cards were dancing about, making faces at
me. The ‘aces’ were funny things with
funnier heads; and the ‘ten spots were
rats and spiders, and all that‘ sort of thing.
Do you hear?—rats and spiders! Mind.
They all jumped—the cards did—trying to
break their pasteboard necks; and then set
tied down to pairs, playing euclier. I was
playing. too. We played and played, and I
was losing all the time. llooked up, and
trim do you suppose I had for an adversary?
But, hear this!" (Reading from the b0ok.)
“ "I‘o dream of cards is an unlucky onien.’
Do you hear? Unlucky! Further ‘ Though
this may, in a measure, depend upon the
kind of an antagonist you should have.’
Antagonist! Mind, nmv! ‘ If he or she be
good looking, you may surmount the diffi-
culty in store; but, if he or she be coarse,
rough, ugly, you may safely depend upon it
trying experience.’ Hear? Ifyour antago.
nist is ugly, you'll have hard times. Now,
then, we’re going to have hard times. Why?
Because my antagonist was anything but
handsome. In fact it was Old Nick, Satan,
the devil himSelf, with horns, fins, claws,
clovcn feet, 'etc., etc. Don’t you see what’s
coming? And now, what are we to do?
This will come to pass; my Dream Book says
so, and it never lies."

The err-superintendent walked to and fro
in tragic style, his eyes bent upon the para
graph of valuable information, reading and
rereading, as if resolved to commit it to
memory, “ unmixed with baser matters.”

Calvert Herndon and Victor liasmn had
found Kraak, with his eccentric moods. and
ridiculously grave faith in dreams, intermix-
ed With 3 humor that neVer was reduced to
absolute seriousness, a pleasant relief to the
dull monotony of life which existed to them
always; and t was their aim to encourage.
rather than be given to faultfinding With
the bachelor. So that, on this occasion,
they affected a serious consideration of his
diSCOVt‘FY. lauded the promptness of the
Dream ook in explaining dreams, visions,
prescntiments, and prom sed to take steps
guarding against the impending calamity.

This fully satisfied K raak. an leaving him
to mom minutely analyze the vision and its
signification, they went out for the stroll
which the ex superintendent‘s unceremonious
advent had delayed. ,

As we stated at the opening of this chap-
ter, the section in which was situated the
boarding-house, was a quiet one; and now.
as they left their rooms and entered the
street, there prevailed a pleasant air of soli-
tude. They walked slowly and in silence,
each wrapt in meditations of his own, and
half regardless of the direction they pursued,
only intent upon their reflections.

A few blocks were gone over in this man-
ner, when, as they passed beneath a street-

. _l
c, y. .i v.

 

lamp, the were recalled 'to a sense of the lin this instance it was not- required, for the-
present, y something that flitted before reason that she whom they had brought there
them, quick, hasty, without a pause, and ut-  was dying, through dread disease and gnaw-
tered a slight scream. in hunger.

lhen the merchant entered the foul-
sme ling room inhabited b this woman, she
CHAPTER XVIII' tottered away from him, grid he heard her

A MARVELOUS REVELATION- ! fall upon what he judged, in the darkness,

THAT which darted past our friends, Cal- l to be a straw mattress.
vert Herndon and Victor Hassan. so sudden- “There’s a table in the middle of the
ly. so abruptly, like a phantom, was the ,room,” she said, feebly “And there’s a
figure of a woman, whose startled cry and icandle on it and a tinder-box. You can.
eagerness to flee from them at once arrested , strike a light. I am dying.”
their attention. ! Herndon groped about him and finally

Her flight was a short one. She seemed j succeeded in lighting the miserable dip of
exhausted. for she clutched at the iron rail. 1 tallow.
ings before a near house, and then sunk ‘ The woman lay upon a ragged mattress
down upon the steps, where she lav motion. in one corner, of what they di~covered was a
less and hardly discernible in the gloom. most Wretchcd apartment. Everything de—

As they reached her, she uttered a stifled noted poverty and misery. .
groan, and moaned: “ What can we do?” asked the merchant.

“ Oh! don‘t take me! Don't! I was not “ It will not do to leave her alone, fast sink-
begging. 1—" she evidently imagined them ing as she is.”
to be policemen, for, happening at that in- “I hardly know,” hesitated Victor, re-
stant to mark their civilian garb, her tone moving his hat to wipe the perspiration-
changed, and she. continued: from his brow.

“()li! sirs. pardon me. I am starving— Before they could speak further the woman.
dying! Give me food. Give me something uttered a stifled exclamation, and pointed her-
to eat!" long, skeleton finger at the young man; while

“My good woman,” began Herndon, but , her haggard features became more deathly in
she interrupted him with; | hue than they had appeared in the first glim-

“Charity! Give me food! I am dying!” i mering of the light.
and her voice grew fainter rapidly. ! ” Water!” she gasped, at length, sinking

“She 1's dying!” exclaimed Victor. back as if overcome by a sudden excite-

“Yes, yes. Oh! give me food!" wailed ment.
she. Victor sprung to a cupboard which, till

“This will never do," Herndon said. then, had escaped his notice, and where,
“ She must have nourishment. Poor beg- fortunately, he found an old pitcher contain-
gar2—strange that the authorities will not ing water. '
provide for you better than they do. But, This he held to her lips, and sprinkled her
where can we get you food? We are stran- face at the same time.
gets here.” ~ She gradually recovered from her faint,

Raising hrr arm with ancfiort, she point- and, fixing her dark eyes upon him piercing-
ed 104 ard a shop window on the opposite ly, cried suddenly, in a hoarse whisper
sine of the street; but her voice failed her. "It’s the boyl—Victor! He had that tiny
Victor immediately ran across to the place mole in the center of his forehead, and the
indicated. On his return, he found a cab same eyes and—and—God! haveI found him
standing where he il‘l'i left the merchant. at last?"

“ IIerc, Vietor,"cal'ed IIcriidon, from the She closed her eyes dizzily, and after 3
interior of the vehicle. “We are in here. moment quickly said. interrogatively:
Hurry. She's gasping." “Your name is Victor Hassan? Tell me

“Give me food!" brokenly pleaded their —is it not? Say ‘yes!’ I know you. You
charge, so strangely dependent upon their are Victor!”
bounty; and the young man, as he got in- “That is my name. returned Victor, in
side, and took his seat, handed her two surprise, rising, and going close to her, while
loaves and some wine that he had brought. Calvert Herndon also drew nearer.

The driver closed the door, and mounting, to “ I knew it must be. God in heaven! this
his box, drove off. is a mercy! Young man, bare your arm!—

“Where are we going, Mr. Herndon?" bare it! Let me see. Is there not some-
Victor asked, glancing atthe starved woman, thing 'pricked upon your flesh? Quick!
who was savagely munching the bread, and show me." '
as eagerly gulping the wine from the bottle Victor, bewildered at her mysterious be-
—almost checking her respiration. havior, complied with the request—baring

“To take this woman home," was the mer- his arm to the shoulder.
chant's reply. “While you were gone, she “Aha! there it is. There it is! You are
told me where she lived, and entreated me Victor Hassan! You are the boy!” and she
to take her there. Ithought we could not sunk back again upon the rough couch,
neglect .her—she is in a pitiable condition; laughing sepulchrally.
not havmg tasted food for nearly four days; “Give her water, Victor—quick!" said
and, besi es, she is. stricken with disease. Herndon, a bhrning curiosity now aroused
The di‘iverhas his directions.” within him to know what this forlorn being

The carriage rolled on through the streets, could mean. ‘i l
a silence reigning among its occupants, un- That which was displayed upon the young-
broken save by the sound of eating and .inan’s arm was a coat-of-arms, prielfed in
drinking made by the woman, who. to judge i colors, and beneath it the words: "VICTOR
by her actions, mtist,surely. have been \\ ith- t llxssAN."
out anything to eat for fully the length of ‘3 When the woman recovered from this
time she had aver"cd. ‘second insensibility, Victor found voice to~

So occupied was she, devouring the food, ’ question her.
and drinking the strengthening wine, that Z “What do you mean by this? What if I
she could find no words in which to thank . am Victor ilassan? Explain yourself."
her benefactors. “ Yes, explain your strange words," added

The stopped shmtly before a miserable ; Herndon.
hovel ocated in a filthy alley, and where an “It’s Victor Hassan; son of Harold, Lord

_

 

 

F-u-

M

 

impenetrable darkness shrouded them. tBlair, Earl of —-—! How merciful is Hea-
“ Do you live he 'e, my good woman?” in- ' ven to ordain this before Idiedt”
quired Icrndon, , “ Son of Lord Harold Blair, Earl of ——!"

“ Yes, yes; help me into the house. I— ' repeated they; together; and Victor contin-
I’m dying—dying—dying." ucd: “Woman! do you know alight of my
They assisted her Out. and Herndon sup- parentage? Speak.”
ported hi-rinto the crumbling dwelling. Scanning his face with steadfast glance,
As Victor turned from the cabman, with she said: I
whom he had been settling, the latter said: “ Ay, I do know of your parentage !
‘.‘ I‘d advxsemye to be cautious. mister. What can you remember of your child-
This 'ere’s a b neighborhood; an’ that old hood ?"
hag what’s got ye here ain t too good to let “Nothing.” he answered. excitedly. now
ye off ’itliout some harm, or the likes—mind kneeling beside her; “not even she who
now) I tellye‘ ’ , gave me birth. I know when I played in
But, though the caution would have been, the parlors of a comfortable home in Ameri-
as a general thing, valuable to one unfa~ ea, where I called a gentleman and ladyr
mili ith the countless modes adtiptednpy uncle and aunt Beyond this, I cannot re—
shre ‘ villainy for the perpetration of cri e, calla scene. They could never tell me of.

., ‘, '. ,.. iv ._- .
..~._m— ‘WupA—‘vmh—Vr‘ R

'I‘m —m. s

.caiml

 
 

720 “

my parents. Speak, if -you know—who was
my father?—my mother?"

“It is the hand of God! I thought you
must be dead; but I wasn’t sure; and now
I’m glad I got ready for this! So! it’s Vic-
tor? My little Vic. that I used to dance
on my knee, and sing lullabys to—how
strange!”

“Will you explain?” the young man in-
terrupted, impatiently. “ You say you knew
my parents. Tell me of them! lleaven
grant you may live long enough for this!"

“Listen.” A strength seemed mustered
within her that had lain dormant till now;
and seizing Victor‘s hand. she wniuered,
hoarsely: “My name is Sarah Marks. I
was your nurse when you. a puny babe.
kicked with your chubby feet, and struck
about with your dimpled fists. it was near-
ly thirty-one years ago. How old are you
now?"

“Thirty-one,” he replied, briefly, leaning
forward to catch her every word.

“ Yes, that's right. Thirty-one. I told
Madge. when I gave you to her. that, if she
ever parted with you. to be sure and pin a
paper about you. telling your name—for
very few people would ever find that name
under your arm—and she did it. When I
saw her, nearl twenty years ago. she said
she had placedyyou in the entry of a grand
house, closed the door. rung the bell, and
left you forever. She—”

“ My parents?” cried Victor, too excited to
hear this prelude.

“ our father was Lord Harold Blair. Earl
‘’of ———; and your mother was a French lady,
descended from noble blood. You are heir
to—to—give me some water!"

Hastily drinking from the pitcher which
he held to her lips, she continued:

“ You are heir to the title, and moneys, and
«estates of that nobleman. You are Lord Vic-
tor Hassan Blair, by birth, by the laws of
England. Your place is usurped by my son!
His name is Hallison. I did it all. Oh! for-
give me for it!”

What did they hear? Victor Hassan di-
rect heir to the title of Lord Harold Blair?
Marvelous! They were mutually astounded.
The young man doubted his 'ears. He gazed
incredulously at the woman who called her-
self Sarah Marks. Herndon’s astonishment
‘was equal to his young friend’s. Both were
silent. Sarah Marks was panting for breath
»—struggling against the grip of death which
was fast clinching upon her wasted frame.

“ Woman! do you speak the truth?” Vic-
ttor asked, when he could command his
speech.

“ Look u on me. Don’t you see I am dy-
ing? Won d I dare to lie in this awful hour?
No, Ispeak truthfully. I was your nurse.
I can prove what I say. I may die before I
'finish; but I’ll try.”

“Do not delay! Tell me all! Oh! I
thank God for this strange occurrence,
which is to tell me of my birth—my par-
entsl”

“I have only a few moments left," said
Sarah Marks. “Pay attention to what I am
going to say. I will prove to you that you
are of noble birth—I will tell you how to
prove it to others.”

More eager listeners never gave ear than
did Calvert Herndon and Victor Hassan to
the words of the dying woman as she be-
gan her story—a stor in which lay the key
to Victor’s irth an earlier life, and on
which rested the momentous import of his
future destiny.

CHAPTER XIX.
MBA}! umxs’s s'ronr.
"MY name is Sarah Marks,” she began,

2 her tone visibly much weaker than ever;

“thirty-one years a o I obtained, through
the kind influence 0 many friends, a situa-
tion as nurse in the noble family of Lord
Harold Blair; Earl of —-, who was noble
in character, as he was in name—generous to
all, and watchful of the comfort of the lowest
menial in his employ. His wife. the gentle
Countess Marie—oh. how I loved hart—your
mother, was as mild. as BWeet as an angel,
beloved by every one. '

“I was called to nurse their new-born
babe; and what a little jewel I thought it
.was, too! It was on, young man—you.
How careful I was 0 you! How I watched

   

 

your every movement lest you should be
hurt in some way! I was wrapt up in you.
1 idolized you; and when I took you in my
arms, I was a child myself, for I used to
laugh, and sing. and play, trying to get a
crow from your cherub lips. And
was this? \Vhy were you so precious to
me?

“I obtained, for my carefulncss, the end-

less thanks of your perfect mother. And this ‘,
I was?

is why I gave you such attention.
married at the time, though nobody knew it,
to a nice young man, who only waited for
better times, better prospects, when we
should proclaim our secret to the world, and
live happily together. as only those can live
who love each other fondly. God! the time
never came for us to do that. The bright

future we had looked forward to faded like a

a mist before the winds, and left dark
clouds before the sun. left me, a widow, help-
less. But wait, and ill speak of that pres-
ently.

“My care of you was rewarded well by

the earl and the countess; and the knowledge 1

that I was pleasing them. besides expecta-
tions of the day when my husband should
take me to him openly, made my life a happy
one. Oh. how happy! But I said it faded.
Listen. The ml was poswsscd of a notion
to prick your name in india—ink upon your
arm, and spoke of it to your mother. But
she would not listen to it; so he said no
more about it. though he did not give up the
idea. He did it. lie placed your name

upon the inner part of your arm, near the ,

shoulder, besides his ‘coat.-of-arms.’ I was
the only one, save himself. who knew it.
There it is now. There it has staid fast, in-
delible. Your mother never found it out,
nor anybody else.

“ How happy were your father and mo-
ther in their only pet! How happy was I
in pleasing them’! But there camea shadow
Like a foggy shroud, wrought by Satan, it
came! .

“ No purer woman than the countess ever
graced a man's home. Yet, see what envy
did. See what accursed jealousy and
masked enmity perfected in the garb of
hypocritical friendship. The countess had
foes—sly. subtle, scheming foes—who sought
to ruin her fair name, and rob her of a fond
husband‘s love. They were Successful.
And these enemies were at court; they visit-
ed her house; partook of her hospitality;
they smiled before, and scandalized behind
her: they plotted injury to her, and accom-
plished it!

“It was done through a steward of the
earl‘s—a handsome man, with a black,
devilish heart. This man was hired by gold
to aid in the base designs upon the countess.
Hear, now, how straight the plot was car-
ried out

“ The earl was called away from his home,
one day, on private business, and his wife
was alone. as he knew. At a distant part of
the city—it was here, in London—he met a
friend. Friend! It was an enemy. a very
devil, with his true nature concealed, and
smiling face and mild-toned voice substituted.
This man, this wretch, had intended to meet
Lord Hamid. and immediately bean a pro-

lude of apologies for expressing regrets at a |

certain occurrence wine had recently come
under his notice; and to which the earl gave
wondering and confused car. He demanded
of the other to speak out his say without fur-
ther hesitation. But this pretended friend
was cunning. He was careful in. playin
his part. And when he at last explains .
our father’s mind was shocked, he quivered
n dumb amazement, and. finally, wasfabout
to strike to the earth the devil who bore him
such hellish news; but the latter, with oily
speech, rotected himself against the just
indignat on of the insulted husband. In
addition, he volunteered to prove his asser-
tions.

“ Consenting. in the end. to his treacher-
ous friend’s proposal, the earl repaired, with
his fiend companion, in great haste. back to
his mansion. They did not enter the house,
but went around to the rear, into the gar-
den, on which fronted the windows of the
countess’s boudoir.

“What did they see? It was enough f0
palsy the very heart-beats of the most con-
flding man who ever shared prosperity and

fliiction with woman! There, seated at the
window, which was open, was the earl’s

 {th-   af: ‘3’ ,‘~; if...-{..  ’.-l ';l,.
‘  W5“ r‘v“~,.~W-.ow [partake in, ' “ff .1! t 

why'

Detective Fleet of London.

!

' steward. He was leisurely smoking a cigar.
and cooling himself with a fan, and, at the
moment. seeming to converse with another
occupant of the room, who could be It!) other
than the Countess.

“The steward did not appear to, see
them, and they hurriedly drew back with-
in a clump of shrubbery, and watched.
; Presently the steward starteo up. cast
aside his cigar and fan, and exclaimed,
while the words were borne distinctly to
their cars:

“‘Marie, you are mine! You say you
are only mine? Then, indeed. this is blissi’
and he stepped from their sight, as if to
‘ embrace her to whom he addressed him-
self.

“The earl staggered; be burned to lay
hands upon the foul being who dared invade
the sanctity of his love for the countess; but
he tottercd weakly, and sunk. overcome. to
the sword. When he recovered, he was
alone. lle looked up at the window. where
had been enacted the scene to blast all faith
in one who had held his loftiest confidence.
 The sash was closed. No vestige remained
j of the dreadful disclosure foreed upon him.
1 His reason must have been dethroned. in
[ part, for I remember. when he came into
l the house, he appeared like one bereft of his
> senses.

“ He retired to his room and locked him- ‘

5 Self in; and after a while a servant was sum
1 moned, to whom lte handed a note for the
countess. [was that servant. I went to the
l rooms of my mistress, and found her reclin-
ing upon a sofa. just awakening from what
she and I always thought a natural slumber,
and in which belief she died. I gave her
the note. She read it. She read it twice,
thrice; then rubbed her eyes, as if she was
not fully aroused from sleep, and did not
read aright; and the next moment, with a
painful cry, swooned. It was the note that
caused it; and these were the words it con-
tained—they are stamped on- my memory in
letters of fire:

“ ‘Couu'rnss MARIE, wry-n or HAROLD,
Lom) BLAIR, EARL on ——-: I

“ ‘MAnmrz—Accursed be the hour in
which the words of a minister created us
man and wife. I have lived in
blindness—adored at the shrine of a dissem
bling woman, whose lips. guileless. yet are
Ifraught with guilt concealed beneath the
a charm of 8. studied piety and chasleness.

You, the once pure angel who taught me the

lesson of a husband's honor for his wife. are
lunmasked in all your guilty inconstancy;
, and while my pen shapes these lines, no flut-
', tering heart nor sick-lover brain is mine, but
a torturous calmness grasps m faculties, and
a stern realization of our iynfidelity faces
me. I have witnesse your familiarities
with my steward this day, while you
imagined me well removed from the oppor-
tunity of penetrating your actions. There-
fore, understand me: your further presence
is a dis race to the honorable name I be-
stowed n marriage. Let your departure
from my house he at once; or I shall aban-
donllt and leave you to the sole companion-
ship of your partner in this miserable crimp,

" ‘HAROLD, Loan Basra, EARL. or =.'

 

“No wonder she swoonedi No wonder
her features were as if carved from whitest
marble! Was it not enough to kill her?
Was it not enough to crush the very soul of

or wrong? The countess was such a one.
She was as pure as woman ever was!
blow was so heavy, so unexpected, that I
feared she Would go mad. I had never seen
her grieve before. She moaned, and cried,
and sobbed; and to me, who stood nintely
there, protested that she was innocent. I
had snatched up the note from ,the floor,
where it fell, read it. and thrust it into my
bosom. where I kept it ever afterward. I
believed she was innocent; I knew she was
innocent; and I joined my leading and en-
treaties to hers when she as ed her husband
for an interview. But all begging was use-
less. He was stern, cold-hearted, refused to
listen. said he had ‘seen enough to satisfy
him,’ and repeated his intention to leave the
house. if she did not do so. He never wished
to see her face again. ,

“After a time, she went. She had no
relatives—was the last of a noble family.

 

*i

. t - i.,
 t .

foolish‘

any woman who was unconscious of guilt‘

The ‘

 

 

k-

Detective Fleet of London.

at

 

 

But she had a comfortable annuity. I went
with her. With tears in her eyes, she asked
me to bring the babe—her dear child——y0u.
Idid this. Istole it from its crib, and we
departed together. But I should have
thought over it more than I did. I did not
reflect that Lord Harold, upon missing the
babe, would demand it, and, if his sup.
posed guilty wife refused to give it up,
would then carry the case before the courts,
thus exposing the whole affair. I knew my
mistress would shrink from open calumny;
and, as I saw how attached she was to her
little one, I had not the heart to take it away
from her, and place it back again. YetI
loved her! Something had to be done.
Hear the sacrifice I made!

“ A plan suggested itself to me which I
dismissed at, first, butq'at length decided to
adopt. I saw my husband and told him all
that had happened, and the embarrassment
I was in. He agreed to do as 1 propOSed.
0117' child, whom we had had privately
christened ‘Hallz'san.’ was placed in the crib
which had contained the true child of the
car]. As the ages of the babes were nearly
alike, Ihoped Lord Harold might not find
out the deception. And he didn’t.

” But, before I parted with my own child,
I had its name pricked upon its arm—the
left arm—near the shoulder, in small letters
—‘ Hallison Gregor.’ That was the name of
my husband—though I haven‘t used it for
many years; in fact, it was never known that
I was married at all, except by some near re-
lations of my husband. ()n the other arm,

. and in a like place, I had pricked in still

smaller letters—‘ NOT Victm- [Ian-an B.’
These two marks were never noticed by
future nurses—I wonder at itl-and, per-
haps, no one save Hallison to this day knows
they are there. My son. Hallison, now
grown to a man, is called Lord Hallison, in‘
stead of Lord Victor Hassan. I’ll tell you,
in a word, how that happened: It was a
strange coincidence. Your father wished to
destroy all relics of her whom he believed
unfaithful, and to that end had his sup-
posed child’s name changed, as he thought.
‘ Hallison ’ had become a popular name
about then, and, as I said. through a strange
coincidence, he had it altered from Victor
Hassan to Hallison, which was really its
name anyhow. So the child lived. So it
grew up. Always called Hallison after that
—Lord Hallison Blair.

“Ihad hoped that everything might, at
some time, be arranged happily. and the
separated man and wife he rejoined. But a
chain of events quickly ensued which de-
stroyed all such anticipations.

“Ilearned the vile plot that had ruined
the lives of two beings, through the steward
himself. I found him one day, in a dirty
shanty—that was what he had got down to—
dying; and he confessed to the part he had
acted. He had received a thousand pounds
for his villainy. and fled to France as soon as
he performed his share of the hellish scheme.
He had administered a drug to the countess,
and while she was insensible, gained access
io her boudoir, where be seated himself to
await the appearance of the earl in the gar-
den. This lan had been well laid. He
was on the a ert; he saw when Lord Harold
stood there. beneath the windows, and at the
fixed moment uttered the words which so
cut the husband’s heart.

“But I received this information too late!
WhenI returned to my home, I found In
mistress dead! Her woe, caused throng
the unjust charges against her honor, and
sorrow at the estran meat from one who
she knew was deoeiv , had so preyed upon
her that she died suddenly, a broken-hearted
wife. There was no will; nor were there
any surviving relatives; everything of hers
was seized by the crown, With the approval
of the earl; and the money she left went to
charitable purposes. I was without a home.
and had the care of the baby. 3/01! ; f0? it
was well known that, in case anything hap-

‘ fiened to my mistress, I should take care of
e

r child.

“ 1 took you and went to a house where
lived some relatives of my husband’s, and
there I was greeted by terrible news—
Waterl water! give me water!"

She grasped tremblineg the pitcher that
Victor held ready. ’

Satisfyin her thirst. and appearing re-
lieved of t e lump which choked her throat,

\

. .

 

, _ -s, \
‘, .L'l )"Lr'y’r I“ ;-   .,.-

she paused for a few seconds to regain
breath.

The young man was impatient He for--
got her low condition, her failing strength:
he considered but one thing—he was listen-
ing to a history of his birth, which had al—
ways been a mystery to him; and the brief
stop in her recital chafed upon his eager-
ness.

“Go on, Sarah Marks; go on!" he urged.
"Tell me the rest. In Heaven’s name,
speak!”

CHAPTER XX.
A “srurnnnom” CASE.

SARAH MARKs at length resumed, in a full
voice:

“I said I was met by terrible news. My
husband was addicted to drink. But this
never marred his love for me. It proved
his doom, though. While intoxicated, he
had walked from a bridge into the Thames.
and was drowned. By a lucky chance, his
body was found by persons who knew and
recognized him, and it was brought to his
relatives. Although this nearly killed me,
I did not forget my charge, the babe, you,
in all my sorrow. You were closely on two
years old then, and behaved nicely; and
I even took you to the funeral of my bus-
band.

“The time flew by. I lived off of the
money I had saved while employed in the
service of the countess. This small fund
grew smaller, until it dwindled dowu to
almost nothing; when, one day, my sister
Madge came to see me———I had a sister, but I
hardly ever saw her, because she lived
away at the further end of the city—and she
said she was going to America. I was al-
most a beggar then, and I could not get any-
thing to do, so I concluded I must part with
you. You were then about three years of
age. I asked her if she would take you
with her, and she agreed. I took you to
her on shipboard, just before they set sail;
and I told Madge who on were, and all
about everything. I to] her to be sure
and pin apaper to your garments. with your
name written on it, if she ever got clear of

on.
y “She took you and went to America.
After that I never saw you, till this night,
and then I knew you right away. by your
remarkable resemblance to your mother, and
by those two small dark moles on each side
0 your forehead. Madge came back again
soon, and I saw her once—it was nearly
twenty years ago. Maybe she has lived in
London the twenty ears gone; but I'have
never set eyes on er. My relations and
friends. one by one, all died, or went away,
and I was left alone without money or place
to suppOrt myself. To get me a livelihood,
I have done a rest many wrong things. I
was forced to t. I continued to live on—
sometimes a chhrity-seeker and sometimes
with plenty of money. Within a few years,
though, even the vile existence I had accept-
ed failed to be of much account. I became
a thief. I was too ashamed of the low repu-
tation I had accepted for myself to seek hon-
est employment. Now I am dying! I have

' not many more moments left for this world;

and I die, repenting all my evil ways; happy
in thinkin of how pure 1 was once. I never
did, would not dare, to assert my relation-
ship with the proud Lord Hallison Blair,
who lives so grandly in Square St. James; I
would be sco ed at, perhaps cast into prison
for my boldness. But he is my son! He has
his true name—‘ Hallison Gregor ’—npon his
left arm; and on his right is ricked; ‘No'r
Victor Hanan B.’ This is 81. Water! I
am dying!”

She drained the pitcher to the last of its
contents, and then added. hastily:

"Go! Go bringalawyer here. Tell him
to fetch pen and ink. I must sign my name
to an affidavit. Be quick!"

“Where will I find one?" cried Victor,
starting to his feet; “we are strangers in
London. Direct me—”

“ When you leave this house, turn to the
left; when on go out of the alley. turn
a sin to the eft; keep up a few blocks un-
ti on reach a corner house, built .of brick,
wit railings to the ate 3, long windows
opening on a balcony at t e front, and light-
ed vestibule. One of a firm of lawyers lives

 ' kn  '3‘: .i.  .,., "‘1," t. .t

 

there. I am sure you’ll find him in. Bring
him to me. I must finish this. It is the.
hand of God!”

' Victor bounded from the room, and hur-
ried upon his errand without waiting to hear
more.

When Sarah Marks and the merchant
were alone, the former said:

“ Look in that trunk over there and you
will find some papers. I wrote them: I
wrote them all. I am not the worthless:
being you would take me for. I have
had a better eduCation than you would
think. Open the trunk and get out the.
writings.” ‘

Herndon did as she requested, finding,
upon opening the trunk, a large roll of'
manuscript. A glance at it showed him
that it was an affidavit, and more lengthy
statement of that to which he had lie--
tened.

“ I don’t know what made me write it.”
she continued; “but I did it at odd times,
after I had been thinking a great deal. It.
eased my mind to place my thoughts in
words. I never dreamed it would go into
the hands of the very child whom I used to
nurse—to the true child of the earl! It's
the hand of God. He ordained that this.
should come to pass before I entered His.
presence!"

“Woman—Sarah Marks, you have given
us most valuable information! This is in—
telligencc both pleasing and startling!”

“But it’s true! It’s true!” she asserted,
with husky vehemence.

“I cannot doubt it,” he returned. “ It
does really seem to be a Providence which-
bronght about this most strange meeting.”

“It’s true, every word of it!” repeated
Sarah Marks. “ I have written it all down,
there, on the paper, and with my dying
strength I am going to sign it. For it wil
be one good eed to wipe out the many
wicked ones 1 have committed. Oh, that I
could live to see again the happiness of my
early life!”

“ How long has the earl been dead?” in—
quired the merchant, still busily rnsing
the manuscript by the pale can le-light,
though his question had no definite impor—
tance.

She answered promptly:

" It was over ten years ago.
the grand funeral well.”

“About two years previous to the date
when my wife and I first met Hallison.-
Blair,” thought Herndon.

He devoted himself to making her as com—
fortable as possible, considering the lack of
conveniences; for which kind attention she
returned feeble thanks.

As the moments passed, she began to fear
that Victor would return too late to accom-
plish that which she desired; but, while ex-
pressing this anxiety to Mr. Hern‘don, the
door opened, and the young man entered,
flushed with the excitement of thought, and
a hasty walk. He was accompanied by not.
only the lawyer named by Sarah Marks,
but also by an Episcopal c ergyman, whom;
he had found with the lawyer's aid. The
latter-named gentleman, comprehending at
a glance how matters stood, wheeled up the
rickety table, placed beside it a stool. and
snagging the sheets so that they could be
sign successive] without delay, said:

“Now, then; t ere you are. All ready-
Come!”

" Sign the papers, Sarah 'Marks, while
you have strength enough left," Herndon
said, assistin in raising her to the stool.

With trem ling hand she dipped the pen
in the ink, and, amid a profound silence, at-
tached her signature to each of the papers;
and the lawyer stood by, business-like, to
dry the name as fast as written, and noddin
his small, shingled head in a rapid, satisfi
manner.

I‘ remember

“There!” she exclaimed, in a whisper,

when she had scratched the last letter on the
last sheet, ” it is done! That will prove
everything. I am going. Hold me!”

She tottered dizzin in her seat, and was
near falling; but Victor caught her, and she
was gently placed upon the mattress, where
she lay like one in calm repose. .

Suddenly the dark eyes of the; dymg wo-
man opened—they were filming, and un-
steady in their gaze; and in a voice so low
that they could scarce distinguish: the words,

she pleaded: -

   

i

'C'VL

.. __,.._‘.'_. x.-

 

.r I,
I F”)
:2.
i
I .

 

a

22

*3 Detective Fleet of _I_Jondon.

 

 

“Water! Just one more drink, and then
.I_I__)i ‘

Victor took up the pitcher, and would
have procured the water, but the clergy-
man laid a detaining hand upon his arm, say-
in :

a Stop. It is useless. 'She cannot live five
minutes. She would be dead ere you came
back. Let us pray for her,” and he knelt by
the torn, ragged couch, and pra ed.

The others bowed their he s, in solemn
accord. When they looked up, the non! of
Sarah Marks was mingling with the hosts

' that throng the beaten path‘leading to the

spirit realms.

The lawyer began fumbling and shuffling
the manuscripts, and immediately interested
himself in the affidavit, wi‘hcontracted brow
and mien of gravest study. He represented
a most respectable firm. The worthy minis-
ter was pleased to accept full char re of the
matter in hand, and was authorized-J to sum-
mon an undertaker, and see that the corpse
had decent burial at a joint expense betWeen

I the merchant and the young man; and, after

giving him their directions, they withdrew
to the main street, where they were fortunate
enough to secure a cab, and ieturned to their
boarding-house.

Ex-Superintendent Kraak had retired, and
they were partially glad of it, as his presence
might not have been so desirable under the
existing circumstances.

They had no inclination to sleep; and
thenight was passed in conversation upon
the singular and most wonderful develop-
ments so brought about as to seem hardly
credible.

Early next morning3 the business card of
“Messrs. Blank & lank, Attorneys and
(Jounselors-at-law.“ was presented, and the
lawyer was admitted.

A lengthy dialogue, statement, and ex-
planation ensued, in which the lawyer was
nformed of Hallison Blair's apparent vil-
lainy, and that the witnesses were on hand,
prepared to testify at any moment. Law.
yer Blank evinced much interest, and began
to take notes. It appeared to him an ex-
traordinary case—a case that was of mo-
mentous imp0it, but crystal transparency.
He entertained no doubt as to their being
amply qualified to thoroughly “oust” the
Englishman, besides having him dealt se-
verelv witht’according to law, for attempt at
double murder.

“ Not the slightest article of a chance
for him!” exclaimed t e attorney, rapidly
pencilin off the more weighty points given
'him. “ e'llgo under like frosted cabbage
in boiling water. Hem! Very queer com-

lication. this. I read all the manuscripts
.ast night. Haven't had a wink of sleep for
about thirt -six hours. Sarah Marks will be
buried to- ay. I’ve attended to that; ex-
pense light—hum! no hurry about the cash.
you know! How funny is this case, now!
Our firm concedes it to be stupendous!
We’ll prove two murders on him. and a wife
under false representations; we‘ll prove him
a fraud on nobility; a son of nobody; a con-
summate scoundreland outlandish liar—etc,
etc., &c., &c., and we'll have him put in
jail, in prison; exile him, banish him for-
ever—maybe hang him! Of course this
shall be kept quiet until all the documents
are prepared, you know—untilthe machinery
is all well g-r-e-as-evd—then we'll shove the
giston-rod, open the safetyyalve, turn the

y-wheel, and run our circular saw of 'us-
tice through his live-oak body. See? Right
in keeping it quiet, am I not?—yes? Cer-
tainly. I thought so. There you are!"

His speech had been broken by short
intervals, as he wrote rapidly, and now
he closed his memorandum-book with a
slap. Shortly thereafter he took his depar-
ture.

It was two da 5 subsequent to the inter-
ment of Sarah arks, when, in and by the
approval and advice of their lawyer, Calvert
Herndon and Victor Hassan engaged rooms
at the —— Hotel for themselves, ex-Super-
intendent Kraak, and Kate, the waiting-
maid.

All, however, were registered under fic-
titious titles, with the exception of the oung
man, whose name was written in the ks:
"Lord Victor Hanan B."

The residence of Lord Hallison Blair was
but a short distance from the —— Hotel,
and on the first day they occupied their new

 

rooms, Victor had walked out in the direc-
tion of St. James Square, hoping to feast his
eyes fora moment, if possible, uprin l’tulihe’S 
face. He knew she was accustomed to ride ,
out in the afternoons; and his wish was grati- ;
fied. He noticed the fine span, the elegant i
livery, before the Englishman’s house, and
well knew that it was hers—for he had been
there more than once before to feast his eyes
on her—the still~cherished idol—the sacred
image engravon so deep in his heart that
time nor effort could erase it. He saw
her driven off; and then turned his eyes up-
ward to the windows. They rested on Dec-
tor Gulick Brandt!

He heard the physician utter a cry,
saw him reel back from view, and without
waiting further, returned to the hotel.
where he related the incident to Calvert
Herndon.

In the same moment in which Victor
Hassan was telling the merchant what he
had seen, Doctor Gulick Brandt was busy.
perusing the page labeled “ Late Arrivals,"
in the oiiice, down stairs; and having dis
covered Victor‘s name, he turned his foot-
steps, in hot haste, back to St. James
Square, where he rejoined the Englishman—
liis features whitened, his whole manner one
of guilty excitement.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
JOSEPH FLEET, s. s.

“Sim—Please cal! immediately at Room
-—. — Hotel, on account of urgent busi—
ness."

“ Now, who the deuce can this be, who
signs himself ‘Lord Victor Hassan B., and
wants to see me on business?”

Thus read Detective Joseph Fleet, from a
small slip of paper he held in his hand; and
thus he soliloquized, as he perused his brief
messa e.

Lor Victor Hassan B. was a nobleman of
whom he had not yet heard. Lord Victor
Hassan B. was a personage new to his knowl-
edge of the lights of the nobility; and he
studied the scrip perplexedly. ’

“ The best way to decide is to go and find
out,” he concluded. “Business eh? it’s
always business with Joe Fleet. I'll see the
gentleman at once,” and a few minutes later,
he was hurrying in the direction of the
hotel.

Presenting his card, he was promptly ush-
ered to Room ~, where the servant announc-
ed him. CaIVert IIerndon and Victor llassan
were there, as if awaiting his arrival, and the
detective entered with a bow.

“Good-evening, Mr. Fleet,” said Victor.
arising; but Fleet paused in the center of
the apartment and interrupted him, saying:

“Hold on. You sent for me on business,
didn't you?"

“ We did," answered the young man.

“Very good; and on business I’ve come.
First and foremost, my name is Joseph
Fleet—‘Joe’—for short—some call me Joe,
and some call me Fleet, while others call me
Joe Fleet. Therefore, you will choose one,
two or all three of the titles, if on wish;
but don’t call me Mr. Fleet. ow then,
business. ” i

The detective was a medium-proportioned
individual, with heavy black whiskers: his
face was pleasant, yet expressive of deter-
mination; his eyes, small and keen, darted
in every direction and fixed in the mind all
they saw; his manner was agreeable, though
blunt; quick to perceive, as prompt to act,
safe in conclusions, reliable in word; some-
times irritable, sometimes lenient—in all his
moods. shrewd and decisive; not a man to
be trifled with, and a man who understood
the duties of his office in the Secret Service.

As he spoke, be seated himself in a con-
venient chair, placed his elbows on the arm-
rests, let his chin fall to his hands, and cross-
ing his legs. gazed at them in a way that
partially discovered his nature.

“ Now. then, to our busmess.”

Without further ceremony, Victor pro-
ceeded to lay before Fleet his whole case.

He began with the first incident—his dis-
covery of moisture upon the lips of Calvert
Hern’don, when the merchant lay in his
coffin, in the parlor at the Home Mansion in
America, and from this point, began a re-
cital of everything—his own near death;

 

his being saved b the waiting-girl; the
merchant’s rescue mm the tom ; Doctor

Guhck Brandt’s assumption of the office of
executor, when the will to that effect had
been destroyed, their coming to London; the
discovery of Sarah Marks and her story; all
was set forth, including Victor's intended
claim to the hereditary title of Lord Harold
Blair, Earl of —~—.

Throughout the whole of which, Detective
Joseph Fleet paid strictest attention, and
marveled not a little at what he heard. But,
he was matter-of-fact, and did not dwell
mentally very long upon the singular com-
plication. He was ready to arrange things
the moment Victor concluded, saying:

“Now, Mr. Fleet—"

“Joe Fleet,” interrupted the detective.

“Well, as you please. ()ur object is, to
be satisfied, to a certainty, that l-Iallison
Blair, or rather, IIallison Gregor, with his
associate, Gulick Brandt, did first bury Mr.
Herndon alive, for purposes of his own; and
did, afterward, attempt my life, because I
was likely to unmask them. Do you under~

' stand ?"

“ Understand? Oh, yes; I understand that
I've got a pretty difficult job. And, how
the deuce am I to get at a knowledge of this
thing, unless I place a pistol to my lord's
forehead, and make him swear that he did
do thus and so? Umph!”

He reflected upon what was before him,
but presently declared himself equal to any
task imaginable in his line; and then arose to
depart,

"There’s nothing else besides the object
you’ve stated, is there?"

“Nothing.”

“And when are you going to kick up this
row?"

“Our lawyers informed us this afternoon,
that they were ready at any moment, only
waiting for us to explain our wishes. I re-
plied that I should probably be prepared
within a few days. I desired a delay in or—
der to have Y‘m perform, if practicable, that
with'which you are now intrnsted. If you
cannot do it. then we must strike without
your aid. If you should fail, of course a fee
awaits you for your trouble.”

"Good," Commented Fleet. “ I’ll do what
Ican. Good-evening.”

“Goodevening,” returned Victor and the
merchant; and the detective was gone.

Joe Fleet considered the duty in hand a
most intricate one. 'He was half-inclined to
admit that he had fallen into a desperate
strait, in which this wits were at fault. He
did not doubt that such a piece of villainy
was probable; but, hbw to manufacture in.
dubitable proofs, based upon actual investi~
gation, appeared a task of towering insur-
mountab lity. -

“Well,” he thought, “I’ll shift the mat.
ter to my brain, and sleep on it. Mayhap,
by tomorrow, I‘ll be able to see how to
work.”

Upon his return to Headquarters another ,

note was handed him.

“ Now,” he exclaimed, “who the deuce
can this be, who writes in a lady's hand, and
wants to see me on business? More business.
Always business.”

His question was answered when he open~
ed the billet and read:

“Your early presence at No. —, Square
St. James, is particularly requested. Ask
for, and see only

“LADY HALLISON BLAIR."

“Oho! then, what's up? She wants me,
tool—the young man‘s former SWeetlieart.
What can be the matter in that direction, I
wonder?"

He lost no time in answering the summons,
starting, straightway, for Square St. James,
and thinking deeply as he went.

Arrived before the house, he ascended the
broad steps, when something fell in a show-
er about him, fluttering through the air like
snow-flakes, only larger, confined to a cer-
tain space, and distinguishable as playing-
cards.

“Hello! somebody’s throwing a pack of

cards out the window. He! he! he! I‘

suppose my lord and lad have quarreled
over a game of whist, an she’s settled the
matter by throwing the cards on my head.
Lucky they weren’t stones! And now, your
humble servant, Joe Fleet, out of considera-
tion for the reputation of the house of Blair,
willItake the pains to prevent unpleasant
gossip in the neighborhood,” saying which,

iv

 

)ate your brains; aid your memory
' out!” “The action had the desired effect.

. Detective Fleet of London.

   

23

 

he carefully collected the cards that lay
scattered upon the pavement, mumbling the
while. '

“Nice cards these. So! ‘jack’s’ up,
‘ king's‘dowu. ‘queen ‘ on her head. ‘Ulubs’
must be trumps, upstairs, where that light.
burns! Not ' hearts,‘ I‘ll bet. a shilling!” and
so forth, until he had stowed the entire pack
in his pocket. ’

Then he rung the belt, and was admitted
to the long, broad, smooth-floored, richly-
decorated, brightly-illumined hall.

“l've come to seelLady Blair," he said,
briefl , u iin asttie man.

“ er-libs?e sif’Pbowed the servant; ‘what
name shall I say, sir? Walk into the parlor
if you please, sir.”

“Joe Fleet. llurry.”

“ Ye-lres, sir,” with another bow.

“Then hurry, and don‘t stand there
wriggling like a man with a pain in his
Stomach."

" Ye hes, sir.”

“Be quickl—do you hear?" taking a step
toward the other and frowning.

The man disappeared on winged feet, and
at the expiration of a few minutes returned
to find the detective, in a side parlor, pacing
to and fro, lost in thought. and exhibiting a
carriage of such truly independent ease
within the house-walls of the proud, wealthy,
exactin Lord Blair, as to astonish the me—
nial. esides, Fleet was indulging in a
strain of broken, incomprehensible utter-
ances; arching and contracting his bI‘OWs;
patting his hands upon his folded arms; evi<
dently resolving something in his mind, and
also impatient at having to wait.

“ Crackey l"

“Ha!” exclaimed Joe Fleet, sp ing him.
“Now. devils catch you! how ong have
you been standing there?—idiot! Stop your
squirming! You set my nerves on edge. "

“Ye-hes, sir!” only, instead of straighten-
ing up, as the detective desired, the latter
eXpected, momentarily. to see the man‘s
back split, and his sundered body fly in op
posite directions.

"What you mean by ‘Ye-Iies, sir?‘ Did
you see Lady Blair?”

“ Ye-hes, sir.”

“ ‘ I‘e-hes, sir,’ again! Well—jackass!—

and what did she say i”

“That if you was a mind, to be sure—of
course she’d—that's to say. hif you choose
—~I might—you—-hif it was convenient—
We_II

“Now—foolt—you’vo forgotten what she
did say.”

‘ Ye hes, sir; I've forgot what she—”

“ Ho! you have, eh? See now! I’m going
to make you remember!” and the we in
which he snatched up a bound volume mm
a table near him, said, as plainly as words:

"This book shall break your skull, vIentik—
100

“ Ye-hes, sir. I was about to say, sir, my
lady would like to Scaryou in her apartments
up-stairs, hif you please; ye-hcs, sir.”

“Good. Now, then, lead the way. And
stop Hurt twisting, or I ll put a bullet through
your cranium!” With tius latter admoni-
tion, he followed the intimidated servant
from the parlor, and ascended the stairs to
the rooms designated by Lady Hallison Blair,
who anxiously awaited his Coming.

And, with all her changed life, seeming
buoyancy, endless luxury of surrounding.“
had Pauline ceased to love Victor I lassan ?

Considering her pure heart, gentle nature.
rapt affection, would it be reasonable to
suppose. that she, who. in words of fervent
sincerity, when she conversed with her fa-
ther, declared an aversion to HalliSon Blair
even asa friend. should feel the happiness
she simulated, and which others believed?
Not so. Though she resigncdly bore the
cross put upon her through base design;
though she displayed, by word and action.
a contentment with her lot, though she gra-
ciously permitted. and appropriately ac-
knowledged. the homage paid her on every
side; still. there existed in the secret recesses
of her heart a dreary, desolate something
which wrought a constant but concealed sor-
row.

The note she had received from the foot-
man of the bridal carriage, on the day of her
wedding. had been treasured jealously, and
was stained with bitter tears that had fallen
from her lustrous eyes at times when she

 

would seek privacy, and read and re-read the
lines upon that precious fragment. It was
a fond relic of one who had been “all-inall "
to her—the only being remaining. after the
burial of her father. on whom she could be-
stow her full, undivided love, and he, in that
hour when she deemed him nigh. was torn
from her by a fate as cruel to realize as the
will of the OmnipoteLt.

The words upon the hastily-scribbled note
WCI‘C:

“ Paulinel—darling! Lost to me. But I

am ever nigh you!"

Yet she had not seen him since the day on
which her father was discovered dead in
the library at the Home Mansion! If ever
nigh, why not come to speak a welcome
word? \Vhy not gladden her sight?-—ex-
change a greeting?—utter a word of whis~
percd recognition? Her fated portion was
the harder in this ban.

“ The miserable have no other medicine,
‘ But only hope."

Amid the gay scenes, the festive throngs
with which she mingled, her eyes eagerly
sought for him; but, as often as she strained
her vision, as often was disappointment the
result; and she would cease the rippling
laugh or merry speech. become silent, pen-
sive, unmindful of the compliments inces-
santly showered from tongues of admiring
friends.

Withal, her position as Lady Hallison
Blair was maintained despite th‘ gnawing
agony of mind forever hers; and even the
Englishman did not imagine the struggle
constantly burning, and heroically screened.
within the bosom of his calm, beautiful
wife. The man drives, with showy livery.
and in blazing isplay, Were not without an
object beyond mere pleasure. That object
was a nurtured hope that she might see Vic-
tor—that. he mi ht see her. All in vain!
He was, it woul seem, held from her by a
merciless decree; and the days, the weeks
passed, until her suffering was augmented
by despair.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
JOE FLEET on TRAIL.

THAT afternoon, when Pauline went out
for her accustomed drive. leaving her hus-
band and the physician discussing their vil-
lainy, she was not long without all desirable
company for one occupying the position
alone hers, but in the midst of the gay
throng which filled the fine drives of Regent's
Park she saw not the face and form of‘ him
who was ever uppermost in her thoughts. It
was pleasant to be out in the open air, away
from a home whose every association was
so distasteful to her. and it “as near night-
fall when she ordered her coaclunan home-
ward. When she reached Square St. James.
the lamps before her own house had been
lighted.

With a sense of loneliness and distress, she
entered the gcrgeous hall of her aristocratic
home. and ascended the staircase, intending
to retire to her boudoir. To reach her rooms
it was necessary to pass those of her husband,
and as she came to the door of the latter
apartments, an animated dialogue Within ar-
rested her attention

There Was- the voice of Lord Hallison
Blair, and, once in a while that of Doctor
Gulick Brandt; then there was another—-
coarse, rough; fierce, and vulgar in expres-
sion.

“ There is registered there "—-—came to her
ears, in the voice of her husband—“ a young
man who has registered himself ‘ Lord Victor,
Hassan B.”’

Victor Hassanl How the utterance of
that mane riveted her! She waited to hear
more \Vhat of Victor IIassan? Her heart
was palpitating nervously, with a sudden
excitement. For the first time in her life,
Pauline played the eavesdroppcr. What
brought Victor‘s name into the mouths of
these men?

She drank in every word of their dialogue.
Her face grew whiter and whiter, until it
vied with the pallor of the driven snow. They
were deliberately plotting a foul murder!
And Victor to e their victim! Heavens!
what did she hear? Was, then, the mask
falling from the smooth-spoken man she
called, unwillingly, her husband? Was she

 

L

le ning the true devilishness of his nature
at ast?

She was a listener to the whole diabolical
plot and agreement entered into between
the noble, the physician, and the bull-
fighterl '

When the interview was concluded, and
the Spaniard arose to take his leave, she
was surprised at the strength which enabled
her to flee from the position near the door,
and gain her apartment in time to prevent
discovery.

A moment’s delay. now, would result in
murderous consequences. A life depended
upon her calmness, her immediate action—-
a life precious to her. even beyond her own,
and she prayed Heaven to endow her with
power so to act that she might save Victor—
save him who was dearer than all things on
earth.

A brief reflection suggested a course
which, she felt assured, would prove suc~
cessful. \Vithout taking time to lay off her
things—without noticing the staring maid,
who wondered greatly at her mistress’s agi-
tation—without other thought than the
object before her, Pauline opened her escri-
toire, took up a pen, and hastily wrote a
line. Folding, enveloping, directing the
epistle, she handed it to her maid and bade
her dispatch a servant with it speedily, to its
direction.

Then the time which followed seemed a
tormenting delay. The waste of a single
second might, perchance, result fatally, and
he, Victor, would be sacrificed! The suspense
wasgerrible. the fears excruciating. the situ-
ation well-nigh unbearable, and it required
an almost superhuman effort to control her
excrtement and uneasiness.

At the moment when the note was deliv-‘
ered at the headquarters of the London police,
there happened to be no membcrof the Secret
Service on hand, and Joseph Fleet, returning
from his interview with Calvert Herndon
and Victor Hassan, being the first at the
chief post, received the billet. As we have
seen. he instantly bctook himself to S uare
St. James, to the residence of Lord Hal ison
Blair—was admitted—was ushered upstairs
to a private reception-room, where Pauline
awaited him.

“Lady Hallison Blair, I believe?" said
Fleet. bowing politely, as he entered.

“ Yes. Enter, sir, if you please. What I
have to communicate is private as well as
important, which will excuse my inviting
you to these rooms. Be seated."

" 0h, certainly,” closing the door and do-
ing as directed.

At the expiration of ten minutes Detective
Joe Fleet understood “exactly” and "‘ pre-
cisely”——as he remarked—the business nature
of his call. At the conclusion of her state-
ments, he smiled meaningly, arched his eye-
brows suspiciously, gave vent to a low
whistle, and thought:

“Now, then, here's more complication!
Lord Hallison Blair is going to have a young
man killed; and that young man is a former
lover of this young lady’s; and this youn
lady is the wife of Lord Blair; and my lord
is not the true lord; and he is a villain; and
he has associated with him in his villainy
one Gulick Brandt, M. D.; and, finally, I’ve
gained a point—a heavy point; for now, I
know my lord is a rascal. Good! Things
progressing at this rate will show me what
i0” 0’ next, after I’ve done something first.

’ 9

“ But," was Pauline’s interruption to this
mental summing, “I could not learn where
Mr. Hassan was to be found. I know not

what to do. I must trust to you, sir. You
can, perhaps, find him—can you not?"
“ Find him? Oh, yes. Not the least doubt

of that,” he returned, in a tone of confidence
which caused her a glad thrill.

“Thank Heaven! I hope you are sure.
When—when can you—”

.“ Now. Right away—in a minute—in two
minutes—in a jiffy!”

Pauline would have spoken further, but
Fleet, fully recognizing the urgency of the
case in hand, took his departure, saying:

“ I’ll fix this thing all right for you, Lady
Blair—trust me for it," and in a moment,
bowing, he quitted the room.

The detective hurried straightway to the
—— Hotel. He had not expected to return

there so soon—in the same evening; but, with
the new duty before him, of placing the young

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24

Detective/Fleet of London. ' ~

 

 

man on his guard against a second attempt
upon his life, then pending, he entered the
hotel, and continued up stairs.

He had reached the floor on which were
the rooms of our friends, when he was checked
by an unexpected sight. That part of the
house was quilt and deserted, yet the detec-
tive saw something which caused him to halt,
and to remain silent.

The suite engaged by the party of four was
accessible through a narrow side passage,
branching off from the main hall and unlight-
ed. There was a window at the opposite end
to where Fleet stood, through which was
dimly reflected the lights from the street
without. and the pale stars.

Ilut, faint though it was, it formed a back-
ground against which was discernible the
outline of a man. The detective saw that it
was a man of heavy build, prodigious
strength, and that he was enVeIOped in a long
cloak.

He was leaning forward—was engaged in
picking the lock of a door, and that the door
to the room occupied by Victor IIassan as a
sleeping apartment. ~

Fleet did not pause to ask himself who
this could be, but concluded at once that
his arrival was just in time to frustrate a
murderous design.

Drawing back quickly in the recess of
another door beside him, he took off his
boots, and then he peered out, to see how
far the wouid~be assassin had progressed in
his labor.

The latter was no longer to be seen!

“ Ah!" Fleet exclaimed, as he glided
along the entry, noiseless as a cat, and
reached the d0or where he had seen the man
at work.

The door was open. Passing around the
jamb. he saw the intruder standing in the
center of the apartment, his back toward
Fleet, his eyes bent upon a couch whereon la
Victor, who had retired earlier than usua ,
and whose loud respiration at once told that
he slept soundly.

The would-be assassin advanced step ‘b
step toward the bedside, concentrating his
enormous strength to give the fatal blow.
The shining steel raised and poised aloft.

“Thudl’ something whizzed through the
air, arrow-like, and wzth unerring precision,
striking the wretch squarely upon the tem-
ple, causing him to stagger}. Ere he could
recover himself, there was a loud or ; he
received another blow which felled him to
the floor, and the cold muzzle of a pistol
touched his temple.

CHAPTER XXIII.
TEE TIGER PLAYS THE FOX.

WE left Diego Perez in a state of mental
stu efaction, insensible to an immediate
res ization of the unaccountable change in
Madge Marks, which transformed her from
the vulture to the dove. She protesting
against the bargain entered into by the bull-
fighter, to murder Lord Victor Hassan B.!
It was stran ei

He looke at her searchingly; a frown
settled on his brow. What interest had she
in the youth whose life he was to take?
Why should she interfere in his plans?
What had produced this change in her vicious
nature?

“ Look ye, Madge Marks.” he cried, “ what
means this turn about? Are you mad? Then
hie to Bedlam mad-house! Are you a fool?
Then go to the asylum! I’ll have none 0’
this baby-talk. Were you of the old Garduna
with me, you would get a bath" for our
weak heart! Are on so 00d of a an den
that you do not ear be ng choked in the

amokelli-or that you do not fear the jam of _

the wolf}: Bah! A grand serene you would
make uie!”

“Diego Perez," she screamed. “ you must
not do this deed. Mark what I sayl—you
must not do it. It is no business of ours
what my reason is; but you must g ve it
u I" . ‘

p“You rave, Madge Marks!” he expostu-
Iaied, with a growl; “how can I Well hold
back now, when I am part paid?"

‘ Drowned. 1' Seized b the Law. tPriwn.
Terms in use among the nrduns of Spain,“ the
time when the Inquisition. at Seville, was in the
zenith of its power. Diego had, probably, ascer-
tained them by accident. retains them in memory,
and, at thishte day, introduced on in his speech
as more forcible than plainer English.

 

‘.‘Give my lord his money. Give it back
to him. You shall not fulfill your bargain if
I can help it!"

“ Poh !" he grunted.

Having finished his supper, the bull-fighter
arose, slapped on his broad hat, and threw
. his cloak over his shoulders.

“ Where do you go now?"
Madge. '

“It is no business of yours. Keep your

questioned

moment he had gone out; but the hag also
left the miserable room, and followed close
upon his footsteps.

I)i('!t) was in a disagreeable mood. He felt
his plans if possible. He glanced back Over
his shoulder, to see if he was being dogged,
but could (li~cern no one, owing to the general
gloom which shrouded that Section invariably
after nightfall.

Ilc Continued on until he arrived before a
decayed ranch, Where poisonous liquors and
sloppy wine were the attraction for those who
could only afford small investments in the vile
beverages; and here he entered.

Diego was loth'to partake of the fiery
liquors here dispensed, yet, as there were
no other shops on the by-route he pro-
posed taking, in order to reach the ——
Hotel, and consequently no other opportunity
to obtain drink; and finally, that he desired
a fiery stimulant in the undertaking he had
agreed upon, therefore, he advanced to the
counter and called for the best, which, at
least, was no more than pure alcoh’ol, slightly
colored.

It was seldom his face appeared in this den;
but the keeper knew him well, and was
‘prompt to act so as to obtain his good grace,
considering the Spaniard‘s strength and
friendship two valuable auxiliaries to the
quietude of his house.

Diego Perez gulped down the sickening
stuff, and, having paid for it, turned to
leave, when he was confronted by a face.
It was a familiar face with a leering ex-
pression, with glaring eyes, Satanic in
mold, disagreeab y ’swarth '. The stained,
withered lips were screwe up in a ghast-
l smile; the dark orbs flashed in un-
ii’inching stare; the owner stood there in a
way that conveyed, clearly as words: “I
am here!”

‘ ‘ Satan seize you, Madge Marks !" he cried,
in an undertone, not caring that the few
loiterers should catch his utterance. “ What
brings you upon my track ?”

“You know well enough, Diego Perez,"
she answered, slowl , and in the same
guarded tone; “I said you should not do
this deed—and you shall not! I have sworn
it!”

“Dias! what shall I do with you! Look
at me. You see me? Do you read me?
Am I to be turned aside by your crazy
caekle? By the Pope’s toel—no! Then
he appeared to have suddenly conceived an
idea; for he continued, more mildly: “Come
—drink—-you have not drank since yesterday,
Madge Marks."

“ No; I don‘t want any drink. If I
muddle my brain you will elude me.
Ha! ha! Diego, you can’t beat me at a fair
game!” '

“Now, my good woman,” said the bar-
master,,with an eye to business, “come, have
a drink. It’ll do ye good—put warmth in ye.
Try a glass. There y‘ are, now,” and he set
another black bottle on the counter beside a
dirt glass. _

“ rink,” urged Diego. “You are in a
bad mood with yourself to refuse. Drink. I
say, and then leave me to myself. Keep
your peace.” .

She looked at the tempting bottle in a
wistful way. Then, unable to resist her
natural craving, hurriedly filled the glass,
sayin : '

“ ust one, Diego!
more!"

Her back was toward the bull-fighter, and
the latter, with a quick motion, made a sig-
nificant sign to the man behind the bar.
The sign was answered by a knowing wink,
and while Madge Marks was busy pouring
alcohol down her insatiate threat, the Span-
iard, without any noise, passed out through
the door, and hastened along the street.

When Madge set. down her glass, she turned

just one, and no

 

' t. ’ i i, . y 1 I.
' the at; t- we». 4.1.; ,

'.‘ .x

to where Diego had been'standing.
!

Wright:-  J .41  "if  , '1‘,- mt,

place,” was the brief, surly reply; and, in a '

convinced that Madge Marks would defeat,

l “ H—a!” she screamed. “He has fooled
me! He is gone!”
“ Stop,‘Madge, stop,” said the master, as-
, she was about to dash away, and in accord»
ance with the silent instructions he had re-
ceived. “Stop. Ilave another drink. Here‘s
i the bottle. Help yourself.”
5 She paused. She glanced first at the door.
1 then at the black bottle. She had not tasted
{ drink for many hours till now, nor was there .
other prospect of procuring any; for she had
no money. The invitation was irresistible.

She returned to the counter, drank again
and copiously, and uttering an unintelligible
ejaculation, bounded from the place in head-
longr pursuit of Diego.

But Madge Marks was completely foiled.
Diego Perez knew that, when she drank,
she drank a great deal at a dose; he knew
that one or two drinks Would suffice to turn
her brain and render her incapable of all self-
control.

/And be guessed correctly, for she had not.
walked a dozen rods before her vision grew
hazy; she staggered blindly Ionward. for-
getting Diego, his mission, her resolve to
prevent it.

CHAPTER XXIV.
MADGE 0N nan METTLE.

“ LORD “ALLISON. will you answer an in- ,
quiry of mine?” said the doctor, after the
bull-fighter had left the two conspirators on
his mission of blood.

“ Well,” returned the Englishman, set-
tling to a comfortable position in his chair,
and lighting one of his favorite Havanas,
“provided you don’t search too deeply for
information, yes. I will answer you. What
is it it” «I
“ I would like to know,” continued Brandt,
“ why you became agitated this afternoon,
when I returned to you, and told you that
Victor IIassan was at the —— Hotel?”

“Oh, pshawl it was nothing. I was not
agitated simply on account of the intelli-
gence that he was there. But it was—it
was-”

“ Ah! it was something else? And what
was it? Will you tell me?"

“ Ay, a something far more important than
the mere fact of his being so close upon our
track caused the agitation to which you allude.
I am greatly perplexed.”

“ Is it, then, a secret?”

“ Yes, a secret.”

“ Yet you may safely intrust it with me.
I onl‘)r ask through .curiosity—nothing
more.’ .

Lord Hallison Blair laid down his cigar,
and frowned involuntarily as he gazed into
his lap, appearing to reflect upon the pro-
priety of granting Brandt's request.

The physician id not note the quick, sharp
look that was darted at him as the other’s eyes
raised fora moment, and then dropped again,
instantly.

Presently Blair said.“ “If I were to tell on
this secret, you would'probably use it a net
me." The tone was to probe the phys cian’s
eagerness or indiflerence.

“ Is it so momentous?”

“ Yes.”

” You may rest assured I shall never be-
tray it.”

“And what security have I for this? You
.know, doctor, we are both liable to deceit if
there is benefit to accrue.”

“Then keep your secret. If it is of so
great a value that you would hesitate to lisp
it, even lacin me on oath, I do not care
much to now it. I should feel uncomfort-
able in my knowledge.”

Another searching glance of only a second‘s
duration flashed unseen by Brandt. fro!“ the
eyes of the wary nobleman. .Then Blalr con-
cluded, mentally:

H He does not seem anxious. He can not,
have a pur se of his own in seekin this,
I do not glit- the man! I do not th nk he
will dare betray me. I might as well tell
him, I may be wrong: in so doing; but
never mind.” '

Looking up, he continued, aloud:

“ Doctor Brandt, will you swear to
secrecy ?"

“Certainly; though, when I first asked
you the question, I did not anticipate this
phase.”

When Blair had bound Doctor Gulick
I Brandt, by a most solemn oath, not to reveal

 

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as.

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Mark"

’is highly probable.

Detective Flee of Londcm.

  

25

 

 

that which was about to be made known to
him, the former said:

“I'll now tell you, in a few words. It is
this: I am not the true heir to either the title
or wealth of the deceased Lord Harold Blair,
Earl of , who. you know, was always
thought to be my father.”

Brandt made no remark, and the English-
man added:

“ That is, I am of the candid opinion that
the earl was not my father, for cogent reasons
heretofore judiciously concealed.”

“ And from what do you derive this sup-
position?” asked the physician, during the
brief pause that followed. “Besides, what
has Victor Ilassan to do with it?"

“Both of those inquiries 1 am about to
explain. It is universally believed that I
am the true son. The earl certainly died in
that belief. lani recognized as Lord llarold’s
son and heir. But I doubt if Iain entitled to
my position. \Vlicn you came back this after-
noon from your half-fool‘s errand in pursuit
of your enemy, what did you say? You said
that it was the young man whom we thought
dead, buried in the cellar of the Home Man-
sion, in America—did you not‘B—or words to
that eifect t”

“ I did.”

“And what more? You said that he had
registered under a fictitious name—‘ Lord
Victor IIassan B.‘ Is it not so ‘2"

“Yes.”

“ Now, see why I became suddenly
excited,” and as he spoke, he took off his
coat, rolled up the shirtsleeve of his right
arm, and raising it so as to expose the
under part, held it to the physician's gaze.
The latter saw, pricked there in India ink.
«each letter clearly defined: NOT Victor
Missal: B.”

“ You see that, Doctor Brandt?"—-re-
arranging the sleeve. “I have an indis-
tinct remembrance of once having been
called Victor. It must have been very
many years ago; but it is still in my mind.
Besides this, just before the old earl died,
when he had but a few moments to live—-
it was about ten years ago—l went to his
bedside, and asked him whythe name, ‘ Victor
IIassan,’ was pricked upon my arm. He
told me he had put it there, in my infancy,
together with the coat of arms of his
family. You noticed there was no coat of
arms there; only the name. Then he told
me of an estrangement which had arisen
between him and my mother when I was
only a babe, and which had blasted his
whole remaining life, and so on. To that

art I paid but little attention. And further,
he said that my name had been changed
when I was about four or five years old to
IIallison. 1 was careful enou h to prevent
him, or anybody else, from seeing all that is
pricked upon my arm; for this suspicion of
mine has been of long existence. I asked
him no more. Now, here is what makes me
sure that I am not the son of the late Lord
Harold Blair, Earl of ——;” sa ing which he
hated his left arm, and Gulick randt beheld
thereon:

“ Halliaon Gregor.

 

f”

" You astonish met" exclaimed the
physician
"DO 1? Well. on see, this is why the

name of Lord Victor Hassan 8., coming
from your lips, had such an effect upon me-
I know that my name was, once, Victor
IIassau Blair—I had it from the earl on his
deathbed. When in America, though the
name of Victor Hassan was familiar to me,
it never struck me as being particularly sig—
nificant But. now, when the name alters
to Lord Victor Hassan B., I confess it
troubles me. What does the ‘B.’ at nifyt
Is it not possible it may mean Blair? hen,
taking up my view, there is a singular com-
bination; for the name on my ,left arm in
‘ Gregor,’ and erhaps my father 8 name was
Gregor; there ore, might not the young man
who is in'udiciously followmg us be the
true son of the earl?—having lately discov-
ered his title, by accident, and intending to
push a claim? Adding everything up, the
(truestion 1 cannot solve is, how came I where
am?"

“ Assuredly, I—”

“I do not doubt myself but that all this
Now, what shall I
infer?"

" I am at a loss-”

“Never mind—it matters little. Diego

 

will attend to him—he will kill him! Do
not forget your oath."

“Your secret is safe with me, Lord Hal-
lison.” -

“ I suppose so; only guard your tongue, or
it may accidentally move in a speech that you
cannot control. But no more of this. Let us
drop the subject.”

“ As you please.
am at liberty to wonder inwardly, am I
not?" meaningly, half-sarcastic; for he felt
the sting of the bridle this man was wont
to put, at. fancy, upon his tongue and
actions.

“You eim use your mental faculties as
you are untried,” replied Blair, also signifi-
cantly; “ but be sure you do not speak too
many of your thoughts. What say you to
a game of cards? I have no engagement at
the ‘club' this evening."

“With pleasure,” and as the physician
drew his chair nearer to the table, Lord llal-
lison Blair went to a small stand at one side,
where he procured a small box containing a

' pack of elegantly-glazed, elaborately-stamped

plaving-cards.

\Vith this box he returned to the table. and
was about to resent himself, when there sound-
ed aloud commotion in the hall, and ltcpallscd.
as heavy, shutlling footsteps approached
along the entry.

The two exchanged glances. and the phy
sician suggested:

“It is the Spaniard.”

“Not so,” returned Blair; “for it is not
his step. Who can it be?" If a visitor, it is
strange that no servant has preceded, and
announced to me the name!"

Their alternate inquiries were answered in
a few seconds. The comer halted at the door,
and. turning the knob with a twist and a
wring, stood before them.

The first glance discovered that it was a
woman, the second, that she was of dis-
proportioned and masculine figure, with a
visage of the devil, a glance of hate—an eye
that lecred, glared, flashed with basilisk
light—a general mien of disgusting front.
ller long, thick, black, wirv hair was knot-
ted and twined in disorder; her clothes
were wet, muddy, dusty, dirty, torn—as if
she had rolled, first in the gutter, then in an
ash-heap, finally reading her garments, as a
pastime. IIer poise was unsteady, as if
aboard a ship at sea; she caught hold upon
the door-jamb for support; then, with a reel,
she strode forward.

“()hot” she cried, “how’s this, now?
Where've I—(hic)——got to, eh? A nice house
for Madge Marks to—to—to come into! Ho!
—(hic)———again! Now, who—who're you—’re

out” pausing beside the Englishman, and
ooking him full in the face, her breath strong-
ly perfumed by the bad whisky which she
had swallowed.

Lord I-Iallison saw that she was drunk,
and reckless; he knew who it was—the
dare-devil Madge Marks—for he had seen
her once before, in a similar condition. He
flushed with an or at her unwelcome res-
ence, and impu ence in coming to his private
apartments.

As he looked toward the door he beheld
several domestics, men and women. who
had followed Madge, not; daring to inter-
fere with her, and now stood at the en-
trance, watching to see what their master
would do.

His actions surprised them. Hastily step-
ping forward, lie banged the door in their
faces, and, wheeling round upon Madge
Marks, hissed. rather than asked:

“Miserable being! what brought you here?
Do you know where you are? This is my
house."

“Know wher’ I am? I—(hic)—I don’
know. May Satan catch me 2—(hic)—
where—where’s Diego, eh! Where’s he, I
say?” assuming a manner both ludicrous
and fierce. ‘

The En lishman readily comprehended-

that troube was imminent. It was una-
vmdable. He did not wish to call in the
servants, and have them kick her from the
house, because she might babble an import-
ant secret. '

He left his position at the door, and ad-
vanced to a corner, near one of the windows,
where he kept a heavy cane.

Madge Marks, though drunk, understood
the movement; more-she felt that he would
not hesitate to use the cane; more—she de-

Though I presume I.

 

* t‘ -. . y,  " 3,545. ,‘ 
mas...» :~;‘ra~ .nv~.neumncgmze em -. t'.»r'~9~7.eam.-swsrrmtefir

termined to commence the attack herself, and
she did so, by grasping the card-box on the
table, and hurling it, with terrific force, at
the head of the nobleman.

Her aim was a blind one. He dodged
the missile, which passed out through the
window, like a shot. where the lid of the
box slipped off. The cards scattered in the
air, and fell inasliower upon Detective Joseph
Fleet, as he ascended the front steps, in an-
swcr to the note he had received from Lady
Hallison Blair.

With a panther-like cry, a scream of a
cornered beast, Madge Marks staggered
toward Lord Blair, her great arms out-
stretched, her fists clinched like sledge-
hammers; and in the same moment Doctor

iiilick Brandt sprung to the Englishman’s
assistance.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
A TIGER IN A more.

LORD HALLIsoN BLAIR met the headlong
attack of the drunken Madge in a summary
manner. Quick as a flash, his stout cane
circled through the air, and, like a bar of
iron, it came down upon her head—not true
to his aim, however, as a sudden, involuntary
movement on her part caused the stroke to
fall upon the side of her skull, glancing
thence to the shoulder, where it hit with a
a deadened sound; and, for a second, she
tottered as if about to go down under the
chastisement. '

But, recowring herself, she again started
at lzim, when the physician, from behind,
threw his arms around her, pinioned her
elbows, bent her head down, and called on
Blair to assist. -

Quite unexpectedly Madge Marks straight:
encd up, shook her arms loose, and, by the
motion, sent Doctor Gulick Brandt backward
upon the floor.

Another blow from the cane, truer than
the first, at this instant felled her, and. trip
ping over the prostrate form of the physician,
she struck with such force as to fairly shake}
the room.

“Perdition l" exclaimed Blair,as he replaced
the cane in the corner, “she is a perfect
devil unchained! Now, what to do with
her perplexes me.” .

“ Curse her!” blurted Dr. Brandt,regaining
his feet; “my bones are nearly all broken.
She is as strong as an ox!” '

“ I could have warned you of ‘that; but
there was no time to advise in this case. She
is helpless enough now. We have no other
course than to keep her here. She will
probably have to sleep of! her intoxication,
and we may have to put up with her disgust.
ing presence until to-morrow. I think Diego
will be here then, and he can take her away.
Come, we’ll put her on the sofa. The idea
of having to handle such a thing. Ugh! I
will have to get rid of the sofa after her dirty
form being on it.” _

They raised the limp, heavy body of Madge
Marks and placed it on a sofa. ,

“ Who is she 1" very naturally inquired the
physician.

“ An old ha , as you see—one among the
hundreds whomfest London. She lives with
Diego Perez, in their miserable hovel, wher-
eyerit is, and, I suppose, gets her living by
picking. stealing—throat-cutting, no doubt.
Her nature is of that kind, and the Thames
is convenient for such purposes. By-the~by,
doctor, hurry down-stairs and gather up
those cards she threw out of the window.
If they should be found there, in the street,
it Would create unpleasant talk in the neigh-
borhood."

The physician immediately quitted the
apartment on this errand. When he gained
the street, he looked about him on every
side, but failed to discover any signs of the
cards. I

“ Not there!" exclaimed Lord Hallison,
surprisedly, when Gulick Brandt returned
and reported a fruitless search; “ why,where
can they have gone to? Oh, rhaps some
passer-by has already picked)6 them up.
Never mind; if they are not there at daylight
I am satisfied. Eh? Listen. What is that
hag saying in her drunken sleep?”

“ You must not do it, Diego, I Say! Ay,
‘ cospz'ta ’ as much as on likel—I have sworn
you shall not do it. t is young Victor—hat
ha! hat you don’t know who he may bet Hot
If know, though—I, know who—who—he—

6—!) ’

 

  
   

 

.‘fi.-'. _—-<. ..

  

26

Detective Fleet  .London.

 

 

“Whatisshe talking about?” asked Brandt ‘ his cheek blanched in the horrible fire of

in a whisper.
The nobleman smiled. Incoherent as was

her utterance—the above is only the .sub- .

stance—the few plainer-spoken syllables Were
readily comprehended by him; and he an-
swered, in an undertone ~

- “ I see through all this now. I know how
she came to be drunk. Diego is cunning——
but he has given me trouble in this in-

‘ stance. "

“ What is it, Lord Hallison? Explain.”

“ When Diego Went from here this evening
I judge he returned to his home, and she
pumped his seeret from him-—his bargain
with us. The probabilit is she has opposed
him, and he, to get rid 0 her, has given her
drink until she is intoxicated. Iknow she
dislikes nte; DICiIO has told me so. Why it is
I know not. And by the Words she dropped,

. I think she vowed to prevent his fulfillment

of the bargain in regard to Victor Ilassan.
That is what 1 divine from her— Ah! Iiear!
She is chattering again.”

“ Ha! ha! ha!" she guttumlly laughed.
starting in a fresh strain. “ You think to
fool me. Just one, and no more. Only one
drink. Ha! he'sgonel Diego—Diego—come
back! Don’t kill him l”

“ You see," said Blair, in an undertone.
“ Diego has eluded her, and gone to perform
his task.”

" Come back, Diego!" went on Madge
Marks, as her brain, and lips, and lungs oc-
cupied themselves even in her drunken in-
sensibility. “ 0h. Diegol-it maybe the boy—
it may be young Victor. Satan! he will go—
and I am foiled! Curse you! If you knew
it was the—the real son—the real son-who
—who—”

“ What is she saying?" and the Englishman

~ leaned eagerly forward; for her last words

seemed to interest him.

An unbroken quietness reigned; both lis-
tened for the next words to escape her swol-
len lips; but the latter were sealed in silence.
She said not another word. For full twenty
ininutes they waited, but she spoke no
more.

“ Wake her, Lord Hallison,” suggested
Brandt, at the expiration of that time.

“ Wake her? 0!), no; hardly! Do you
imagine I am anxious for a repetition of her
demonstrative hate? Let her alone, and she
will sleep qfl the effects of the liquor I only
hope she‘may remain where she 13 till Diego
comes again. Ayhol I am very sleepy. ' I
propose to retire. We must do without our
game of cards to-night."

“Will you leave her here?” pointing to
Mad e Marks.

“ h, yes; as well here as anywhere. We
can lock the door. When she recovers her
senses, she will not injure anything.”

“What if she should struggle up, and in
the dark fall out of the window ?”

" Hal ha! I half-hope such willbethecase.
Come. To bed.” (Stretching wearily.)
“ I wonder how my pretty Pauline enjoyed
her ride‘this afternoon? Ha! what’s that?”

There was another sound of confusion in
the ’hall below, and this time it Was of a
familiar kind. The front door banged; the
servants were heard to flee precipitate] be
fore the corner; a heavy step ascende the
stairs; a surly rumbling, grunting, growling,
ejaculating became audible.

“ It is Diego Perez! ’ at once exclaimed the
noble-man. “Can he have performed his
work so soon, and returned to receive the
balance of his pay?"

With a jerk and a whiz, the. door flew open
and back, striking the wall with a clang, and
the bull-tighter entered. His hat was gone;
his cloak was missing; his appearance was
strange; his bronzed features wore a disap-
pointed look. They saw that he was dis-
pleased, that he was furious; his teeth ritted;
his eyes snapped fiercely; his fists oubled
and relaxed alternately; he snarled, looked
wild, haggard, terrible—like a beast ready to
devour, or like a giant ready to annihilate;
his whole mien was calculated to impress one
with the idea that a tiger, transformed to a
man with bristling face, sinewy limbstreach-
erous heart, was about to launch itself, roar-
in , biting, tearing, upon somebody or some-
th ng, or anything. or everything.

Near the center of the room he halted
abruptly and cast a glanco upon the two men
who were, for a second, speechless on behold-
lug him in such a condition, such fury; for

 

fill‘fith which turmoiled and seethed within
1m.

“Well, Diego," spoke the Englishman in-
terrogatively, “ what does this mean?”

“ Mean, my lord l—mean!" he roared, with
voice of a hurricane, lungs of alion. “ Meant
Dies—and Dias again! You see me? Do
you read me? Am I myself‘t—or doI picture
a scarecrow in my look? ’Sdeathl—and the
devil! Iam only half come? I am here—
but my life nearly paid for it, instead of
that striplin ‘s for whom I meant a knife-
thrust!” an he rocked to and fro un-
restedly.

“How. Diego?” and Lord Ilallison Blair
stepped up to him, also frowning, as he
halfvsurmised his meaning; “ have you
failed ‘2”

“ Failed? No!” (with a scowl at Brandt.)
“But 1 am balked. l’mlked. Do you un-
derstand that? Balked."

“ Di i you attempt the young man’s life?”

“ Yes,” surlily.

“ Did you sur-eeed?”

“ No; curse him!" hotly.

“ Ha! then you did fail?”

“No, Idid not fail!” fiercely: and be con-
tinned:

“ I tell you I was balked. My knife was
sharp; my arm was steady; my nerves were
well braced; I had sworn to do the deed——
then how could I fail? I was by his bed-
side; I was about to strike at his heart, when
something struck me from behind, somebody
pounced upon me; and more—they carried
me down fhhefore I could fight. A pistol
pressed m cheek; I tried to shake off my
enemy, an -bah! what use is all this? The
young man lives. I am lucky in keeping
my Own life!”

“ llow unfortunate!"

“ Ten thousand blasphemiesl yes.
tricked dirtily.”

“And how happened this interferer in
your plans so opportuncly on the scene?
Who was it? Do you know him?”

“ . Satan take him! well do I knowhim.”

“ ho was it?"

“Mr. Jose h Fleet, of the Secret Service
force of Lon on, is in the parlor, and would
see my lord without delay,” at this juncture
announced a servant, ere the bull-fighter
could answer the nohlcmar‘s inquiry.

“ 00mm!" exclaimed Diego; “the very
man! It was be! He it Was who foiled me!”
and he glared upon the servant in a savage
way, evidently astonished at hearing that the
detective was in the house. '

The reader will remember that, when Joe
Fleet discovered Diego Perez operating on
the lock of the door, he drew back into the
space of another doorway near him and pulled
off his boots. They had served him now
admirably. One boot, with unerring aim,
struck the Spaniard on the temple. and in a
trice the detective was astride of Diego. He
piniOned him firmly down, placed a pistol
against his shaggy head, and chuckled over
the capture.

The noise aroused Victor Hassan; and, as
the youn man started from his couch, two
doors on ghe opposite side of the room opened
throu h which appeared Calvert Herndon
and imon Jeremiah Ebenezer Kraak, both
considerably alarmed. ,

“ Mr. Fleet, what on earth is this? What
has happened? How came you here? Who
is that man?”

“Well,” answered the detective, coolly,
“I came here on business. This rascal came
to stick you with a knife. That‘s all. See
it?———the knife. There it is on the floor you-
der.” Then, to his captive “But you
didn’t do it—eh? You dog! I say you
didn’t do it. My name is Fleet—Joe Fleet.
You know me? ii We you ever heard of me?
you devil! Tha me for this I just
came in time, did ’t I? What do you think
of yourself? you scoundrell” poking Diego

Iwas

'in the ribs, which called forth a deep growl,

another oath, a snap of the massive jaws as
they closed in a smothered imprecation.

The bull-fighter was taken at a weak point.
With all his strength, with all his audacity,
he was overpowered and powerless. His
limbs and bodv were securely held, as if pad-
locked to the floor, by a man whose physical
endurance and elasticity of frame were ade-
quate to conquer his ugly antagonist.

“ There! I‘here! See now i" cried the ex-
superintendent; “ I told you so! Didn’t I

 

say we’d have a hard time? Didn’t my
dream book say that to dream of cards and
the devil, meant trouble? Here it is! It’s
come! Iknewitl Wait. 1’]! find it in my
book and read it to you.”

But the others paid him little heed. Their
attention was directed to the bull~fighter and
the detective.

“Let me up!” howled Diego, dismally,
choking back the consuming chagrin and
anger which tee “ed in his breast; “I am
foiled in this-curse your coming! Then
why keep me down here? Let me up; or,
by his Iloliness the Pope, I'll burst a vein
at blaspheming!”

But he writhcd in vain as he tried to re-
lease himself from that iron grip.

“Easy, now,” admonished the detective.
“ You See, this pistol is loaded and cooked;
so that, if you disturb the. trigger, it will be
apt to result in a promiscuous scatteration of
your brains. Now, will you live or die?
You can choose.” Then compressing his
lips firmly “ llark yo! 1’]! not be triilcd
with. Say so by action, and you can quit
this world in a twinkling."

“ Bah! the world is a 11—1. Yet, here. I
am master of myself and many Others. If I
die—though my lot be a heaven, it would he
aservile one. Wisely, I choose the world;
for, in it, I have a certain reign. Otherwise
I would become a slave. I must—”

“That’ll do for you. I know you, Diego
Perez—know you fora thief and a rufllan,
and well deserving of the halter. Now, if I
let you up, will you behave yourself and go
with me?”

H Yes.”

“ First: who sent you here ?”

“ It is no business of yours. ”

“ Tell me,” continued Fleet, sternly,press-
ing the weapon closer against Diego’s head.

“Lord Hallison Blair!” blurth the Span-
iard after a moment’s hesitation.

“ Good! That's what I thought. Now
y)ou may get up,” saying which, he released
tego, and the latter scrambled to his feet.

Ostensibly, the bull-fighter meant to keep
his word, to accompany Joe Fleet. But the
detective was blinded here.

No sooner was Diego Perez free than,
stretching his limbs, twirling his arms. utter-
ing a defiant snarl, he dashed toward a win-
dow opposite to where he stood.

Fleet endeavored to intercept him, hut,
failing in this, he tired the pistol—tono effect,
as be judged; for, without reckoning .upon
the conse ucnces. Diego sprung through the
frame. here was a crash, a jingle of glass,
and he disappeared.

Simultaneously they ran to the window and
looked out. The darkness of the night Oh
scured everything.

“ Devils catch him!" muttered Joe Fleet,
“ he’s escaped me after all, but he’s my bird
yet. I know his roost.”

“What is the solution of this occurrence,
Mr. Fleet ?” interrogated Calvert Herndon, as
he and the others turned to the detective for
an explanation _

“ That man is Diego Perez—once a Span-
ish bull-fighter, now a London rough, and a.
tool of Lord Blair’s. He came here to kill
you, young man (to Victor), but I prevented
the catastrophe, as you see. It's all right,
sir; I’ve seen her—your lady-love; that is,
Lady Blair, I mean, All the same. Whole
thing fixed shortly. Have yourself ready to
come to me when I send for you. I don‘t
know exactly when or where it will be. Be
on the watch against assassins.”

” You have seen Lady Blair?" interrupted
Victor, anxious to hear of Pauline.

“ Oh, yes. She's all right—perfectly well,
I mean Remember, and be on 'our guard-
MOre anon. Hem! Good by, 3! -" ,

Havingdrawn on his boots while speaking,
he hurried from the room. from We 110101,
along the street, turning, foot-hot, back
toward Square St. James. leaving the trio to
marvel over the occurrence which had very
near cost Victor his life.

When Diego Perez launched himself out
into the air from the window of Victor Has-
san’s room, be fully expected to be mangled
in the fall. But he was desperate, and with
him desperation smothered fear; he cared
not, as longl as he would by the lofty jump
escape the etective and the prison-cell which
had loomed in his vision.

Instead of striking, after a violent descent,
upon stone, brick or dirt, and being crushed.

 

a

..I_I§.

 

Detective Fleet of Lndon.

2’7

 

 

he suddenly alighted upon the roof of a
dwelling without so much as spraining an
ankle.

Looking about him, he soon found a trap-
door, and he made his way through this to
the interior of the building. The house was
unoccupied. He continued down the stairs,
clambered out at a side window, and entered
the street. He was bareheaded—was without
his cloak—but he,too, started in the direction
of Square St. James, in a state of mind diffi-
cult to describe.

He reached the nobleman’s house in ad-
vance of Joe Fleet; and now, upon hearing
the detective announced, hiswild rage cooled;
he could not decide whether Fleet was in
hound-like pursuit of him, or whether he had
really come there on business with Lord
Hallison Blair.

CHAPTER XXVI.
'I‘IIE m'rnm'mw.

MOTIONING Diego to be quiet. Lord Hal-
lison Blair turned to the man who waited at
the door, and said, calmly:

“Show the visitor to my fencing-room.
And mark—do not make any great haste
about it. Delay a few minutes,”

“ Yes, my lord,” and, as the servant with-
drew, the nobleman continued, addressing
the others:

“Both of you will come with me, You,
Diego Perez, must secrete yourself, and,
at the clapping of my Lands, be ready to—
to—H ‘

“Well,” prompted the Spaniard, “and
think you i am dumb?—that I know not
your meaning? I must be ready, at your
say, and then—s-q-u-i-rl" w th a twist of
his fingers around the throat, and feeling
for the small, sharp poniard he invariably
carried in his bosom.

“No, Diego—not that. Simply knock
him down—insensible—that‘s all. If our
blow is hard enough to kill, why, we'll ave
to be satisfied. I will look to the rest,” and
the significant fire in his eyes was answered

.by aknowing leer on the part of the hull

fighter. “But, come," added Blair, “ there
is no time to lose, if we would reach the
fencing-room before this rash corner. I fear
a dangerous secret has leaked out. Maybe
the detective has discovered something to in-
jure us. Come.”

The recumbent form of Madge Marks had,
all alon , escaped Diego’s notice. and, as he
follow after the two plotters, his eyes were
ablaze, his only thought was of the oppor-
tunity about to present, in which he could
turn the tables on the detective.

Madge was, therefore, left to herself, and,
for the time, forgotten. Her drunken sleep
was not destined to be of long duration; her
action, upon awakening, was to be of consido
erable importansg in the pending scenes of
the night. '

“Do you entertain any idea that we have
been discovered, Lord Hallison?" inquired
the physician, in a tremulous whisper, as
they descended the stairs to the floor below.

“ Discovered ? Pshaw 1 what grounds
could I have for any such imagination?
Why, Jou are already turning white. You
must 0 better than this, Gulick Brandt. If
you pale and tremble when there is no cause,

ow.wdl it be when you are arrested for
placmg the pastille beneath Calvert Hern-
don’s nose? Beware! l a lvise you for your

own welfare, when I say, guard your expres-~

sion of face even closer than the words of
your mouth; or, as sure as death, you’ll

ring destruction, on yourself. Well, what
now? Where are you going. sirrah?” the
latter interrogatory speech to a serving-man
who was ascending to the floor they had just
left

“ I—I—I want to get something, my lord;
hit you please, 1-”

“ But your place is in the 11811. You have
no business up here." ,

“ Hif on please, your lordship: Jecms
dropped is kerchief when he‘s comin’ back
from a-tellin’ you of the vis’tor down-stairs
an' ’e asked me to get it for ’im, sir, my lord
-—that's it,” bowing low before his exacting
master.

Blair eyed the fellow sharply for a second,
and then continued on, without comment
upon this plausible excuse. Diego snarled,
and frowned darkly upon the servant, who
made haste to depart.

The Englishman had been lied to by his
empioyee. The latter’s real mission was to
the apartments of Lady Blair, and he carried
a note, under command of strictest secrecy,
which contained the following:

“All right. Young man safe. No dan-
ger. JOE FLEET.”

The fencing-room was a square apartment,
with high ceiling, matted floor and smooth,
white walls, against which were hung, on
spikes. nails, pins and knobs, various arms
of numerous patterns and elaborate finish.

There were knives, poniards, rapiers,
broad-swords. pistols, hunting-rifles, game-
bags, shot and bullet pouches, powder-horns
an;l trumpets; foils, masks, gloves, leggings,
arm shields, boxing-gloves, costumes for the
chase, ri ling-whips, spurs—all these, sus-
pended, with taste, in appropriate sections
and convenient positions—Showing that he,
Blair, was fond of boxing, fencing, bunting,
riding, chasing, yet only an amateur, with
small reputation in either line—his forte be-
ing the table with the green baizc and metal
card-box, or roulette, or cards; or, in fine.
anything for money, wherein defrauding and
mental cunning were applicable.

Near the door was an iron plate—such an
one as is in use in our shmrt.ing-galleries—at
which to discharge a pistol, in practicing—
and behind this the bull-fighter secreted him-
self, check-reining his eagerness to deal a
foul blow at the one who had so successfully
thwarted him at the —— Hotel.

Joseph Fleet was soon ushered into their
presence, and he entered, saluting them po-
litely, which salutation was stifiiy acknowl-
edged by the Englishman. Brandt neither
bowed nor spoke — he was beginning to
tremble; for, with the first glance into the
detective's eyes, he fancied he saw there
something threatening, and he remained si-
lent, dreading he knew not what, almost
ready to cry out in despair, as he imagined
that Fleet had discovered their villainy, and
had come to arrest them.

“Take a scat, sir,” Blair said. “ You
have important business with me, i presume,
that you should call at this hour—it is grow-
ing late.”

“ Yes—business. Were you going to bed?
Sorry,” was the detective's indifferent reply,
as he dropped into a chair.

“ Be kind enough to state your business at
once, then,” pursued the nobleman.

“In a hurry? Oh—weli—” Joe Fleet
laid the forefinger of his right hand in the
palm of his left, as if about to explain a
problem in algebra:

“You see, fact is, Lord Blair, business is
business, at all hours—either day or night.
Makes no difference to me, if you’d been .in
bed; you would have got up, of course.
Sorry—I am—to intrude, but there‘s some-
thing I want to know—something that you
alone can tell me—and something I am de-
termined to et at. Understand? I say
determined. am an emissary of the law—
a Spy, an explorer at large, in the Secret Ser-
vice, and so forth. See?” '

“Pray you, proceed.”

“I wil . ’Tisn’t ofien that my calling
brings me in contact with any of the nobility.
In fact, I’ve never had a case among any of
the noblcmen of England since 1 received my
commission—not insinuating that the charac-
ters of some don‘t need investigation. But,
as I said before, business is business—and on
business I’ve come here, to see you, and that
man, there-Brandt, I believe his name is,”
and, as he turned from one to the other of
his hearers, fixing that steady, sharp, analy-
tical gaze on each, alternately. the physician’s
nervousness increased, though he strove to
conceal it.

After a momentary pause, he went on:

“ The question I shall ropound must be
answered promptly, satis actorily, or I shall
be obliged to resort to more persuasive meas-
ures than mere polite inquiry. Understand?
It is this: Why did you wish Lord Victor
Hassan Blair removed from this world to the
next, eh? Why did you bar ain with a base-
born assaSsin, named Diego crez, to murder
him, eh? What is your excuse forit? Now,
don‘t tell me it was because you feared he
would claim and get, by right of lawful herit-
age, the position you usurp; for I know that
already. But, tell tne what other motive you
had. See? I'm as sharp as a swordfish,
’ keen as the back of a dolphin, on which no-

 

 

body could ritle without a saddle. poets’ as-
sertions to the contrary, notwithstanding.
yhat did you want young Hassan killed
or?”

Blair started and paled; Brandt trembled;
Diego. in his concealment, grew red with
pent-up rage.

“Answer me, Lord Hallison Blair.” close-
lv pursued the detective, as he saw that the
Engli hman hesitated; why did you bribe a

ruman to kill Lord Victor Hassan Blair, the ~

true son, and only surviving relative of Lord

Harold, Earl of —, whose position you dis-
grace? Queer that I know so much, isn’t
t?" .

LOrd Victor Ilassan Blairl The“ B.” did,
then, signify Blair? Victor had discovered
his claim to the title!

The words of Joe Fleet rung in the noble-
man’s ears, sunk like fire into his brain. He
must have seen Victor Hassan! The young
man must have acquainted him with the
attempt made upon hts life in America!
What was pending? A crisis, a denoumnent,
in Which he, Blair, would become prey to
an avenging law!

The above flashed across the Englishman’s
mind, and while the pallor on his handsome
face assumed a whiter hue. he, too, with all
his reckless nature, indifierev cc to every
situation, boasted promptness to deal with
any emergency, grew ill at case under this
plain speech, which indicated that the speak-
er was thoroughly familiar with the matter
in hand.

Gulick Brandt could scarce smother the
groan which arose to his lips. The atmos
pherc seemed, to him. to be growing chilly,
disagreeable; a creeping sensation came over
him.

“I do not understand you, sir. What is
the meaning of this enigmatical strain?"
Blair mustered strength to say and ask.

“ Oh, you can’t comprehend? Listen.
Now, I know exactly what I’m about. Just
come from the hotel, from the young man
on whom your hired rufi‘lan was about to
practice his knife-tricks. I happened to be
there in time to prevent a murder. See? I
half captured the assassin—rascal—had him
and he got away—”

“Did he tell you?" sputtered Brandt. in a
broken, hesitating way; for which utterance,
Blair could have throttled him, and at which
Fleet smiled, as he answered:

“ Partly. He told me— But, never mind,
I know all about it. I always get at Such
things in the nick of time. The Spaniard
was terreceive one hundred pounds for his
little job—and I have gleaned a variety of
other particulars from different sources.
Come, own up. More—tell me why you
wanted Victor Hassan murdered ‘2”

“There—there must be some great mis-
take. I do not, at all, understand this rig-
marole,” stammered the nobleman, but it was
in well-affected surprise.

“ Now, look here,” reasoned the detective,

argumentativer and emphatically; “I have -

eyes, and I have ears. I have seen, and I
have heard. Seeing and hearing is believ-
ing, and consequently you can’t blink me
by tomfoolery. As long as you won’t an-
swer my questions straightforwarle as.
long as you won‘t give me any satisfaction,
I'll create a focus by stating why I am here.
1, Joe Fleet, legally authorized deput of
justice in the Secret Service force of ion-
don—thanks to the favor of Her Majesty——
do pronounce you under arrest for having
bribed one Diego Perez to murder, in cold
blood, a young man, whose name is Victor
Hassan, who is the rightful claimant to the
title and estates of the late Lord Harold,
Earl of -——-. Further, for having attempted
this young man’s life on a former occasion,
in America. More, for having buried alive
one Calvert Herndon. with the assistance of
§our assocrate rascal there, Doctor Gulick
randt. More yet. on suspicion of having
persuaded Into wedlock, through misrepre-
sentation and fraud, the daughter of said
Calvert Herndon. And, to wind the matter
up. add my Opinion of you, which is, that
you are a villain at large, a gamester, a
trickster, a man who can espouse, first. the
Tor party, then the Whig, then the Tory
again, and kill conscience in the furtherance
of every dirty triumph. Plain talk, isn't it?
Makes you wince. doesn’t it? Joe Fleet,I
am! So, come along. Business, this is,”
arising and pointing toward the door.

.» w :z... 'v\- -. _ woe _ ,. . .
n~-.W..« m. u“ a.~—_-.-- .V »~.-..—~,-.»...

 

: would be bleeding faster.”

  

28

I Detective  London.

 

 

A bent, crouching form was moving noise-
lessly behind the detective, gradually ap~
proaching nearer; a great fist was doubled
and clinched till the nails fairly sunk into
the hard flesh: a pair of glittering eyes were
fixed, without a quaver, upon the intended
and unconscious victim.

At this critical juncture, there was a rap
.at the door, and a voice outside said:

“Lady Blair would see my lord in her
rooms immediately."

“I cannot come. Bear that messaue to
her,” quickly answered Blair, fearfuf that
Fleet would turn and ascertain the danger
hovering over him.

“Come, my lord, you are my prisoner in
the name of the law. Will you go peace-
ably, or must I use force? Business is busi—
ness. Come.”

“It shall be neither!" cried the English-
man, losing all control oVer himself, in the
feeling of triumph, which he experienced
upon marking that Diego was ready to
strike. “Perdition catch you fora meddling
fool! You have Sealed your doom by com-
ing here!" lle clapped his hands; there was
zgrowl, and Fleet, with a groan, sunk to the

oor.

Diego Perez had felled him use. butcher
does the helpless ox, and no iv stood glower-
ing dowu upon the still, motionless body.
laughing gutturally, entirely forgetting his
recent passion in the present moment of ap-
parently perfect triumph.

“ Thank God!" ejaculated Brandt, hoping
it had been a death-blow.

“Well done Diego; welldone. You shall
have another fifty pounds for this!"

“Then I am satisfied,” returned the bull-
fighter, subsiding to his habitual hang-dog
manner. “ And, now, you shall pay me fifty
more to take him from the house—"

“Hal See—he bleeds,” interrupted Lord
Hallison, pointing to their victim, from
whose bruised temples tiny drops of blood
were trickling down to the carpet.

“ So be it,” was Diego's comment. “ Let
him bleed. If I had but used my knife, he

He was interrupted again. This timeby
asecond tapping upon the door-panel, and
the servant who had knocked before, now
:said:‘ '

“Lady Blair requests me to say that, if
my lord would not incur her displeasure, he
w 11 come at once.”

“Tell her I will come at once,” Blair re.
plied, in a pet of impatience; then to the
others: “I must go. Fiends take her at
this time! She will come here, if I do not
attend her. You can return to the room
up-stairs, while I see what my charming
wife wants of me. Let this miserable car-
cass remain here until I am released from
the interview with Lady Blair. I shall not
be long, depend upon it. Come.”

The trio quitted the room, turning the
key, and leaving it in the lock.

Lord Hallison Blair sought his wife; and
the physician, with Diego Perez, repaired
to the room where they had left Madge
Marks.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
A WOMAN'S ANGER.

LORD HALLISON BLAIR found his wife
standing in the center of the boudoir, gazing
toward the door throu h which he entered.
Her perfect form was rawn up to its fullest
height. her lustrous eyes sparkled with a

prer brilliancy than ever before marked by

m.

“ Well, my lord,” said Pauline, regarding
him steadily, "you have condescended to
come at last.”

“ Excuse my delay, love; it was impossible
sooner. I was very busy."

. He smiled. His manner was studiedly col-
lected; no trace of his late excitement the
least visible.

“ Busy? At what villainy now ?” she
asked, quickly.

“ Villainy? ' he repeated, in astonishment;
“ what do you mean 1”

“I mean, sir, that I at last understand
{gut base nature—your vile hypocrisy. You

ve long and successfully deceived me.
Contemptible as I have always believed
you to be, I never imagined your real wick-
odness—"

’you to the hallsof justice.

‘ “Woman—Lady Blair—Pauline,” he in‘
, terrupted, “ what is all this?"

I “What is it? It is to strip the mask from
.your face; but, I sent to you now for the
'purpose of demanding to know why on
bribeda man to kill Victor Nassau? ell
me. Lord IIallison, for I have ascertained
all!" and she took a step forward, riveting
her bright eyes even more searchineg upon
him, while a crimson flush supplanted the
delicate bloom of her youth.

He drew back and stood gazing at her
while he thought.

“Tell me," continued Pauline, interroga-
tively, “what your object was in wishing
Victor Hassan murdered? I overheard the
whole conversation between you and the
wretch who was bought by your gold. I
dispatched a note to the headquarters of the
London police, summoning a detective, to
whom I gave all the information i possessed,
and who, through a merciful Providence,
was enabled tothwart your de~igns. Speak,
sir, speak; for i am aroused! The dislike
that has ever dWelt in my bosom for you,
even in the hour when my lips answered
‘ Yes" at the marriage altar, has turned to
bitter hate. Since 1 know you as you are,
even toleration is impOssible! I would dragr
Speak, if you
have voice!”

IIer bosom rose and fell with the power of
her stormy feelings; she stood before him
as an accusing angel.

The Englishman’s eyes lost their mildncss
and assumed a scintillating stare; which,
could she have read its meaning, would have
warned her of a devilish flame fast kindling
in his heart.

“Have a care, Lady Blair!" he hissed,
through his pearly, tight locked teeth. “ You
are at something dangerous! This accusa-
tion is faiso. You—”

“No! It is not false, but truei—truel
0h! coward that you are! A man that you
fear to meet yourself, you hire others to at-
tack! You. are a treacherous serpent, Lord
Hallison Blair, andI have found you out. I
shall expose you before noon to-morrowl
This tool of yours shall be found, and cos-r
pelled to testify against you. Tremble!
Justice shall overtake you sooner than you
had imagined. If 1 were a man I would
drag you from this house to a prison cell!
I hate you! I hate you! Villain, Idespt'se
you i" and her fixed gaze seemed to burn upon
the very core of his heart.

This was a reception he had not antici-
pated.

Casting aside all restraint, Lord Hailison
Blair sprung forward, er in hoarsely: -

“I must kill you! on now too much!
You shall die I” and he grasped her, apparent-
ly set upon this horrible performance.

A piercing scream rung from her lips; she
struggled in his tenacious hold.

At that instant there was a loud rapping
at the door, and the voice of Brandt said,
hurriedly.

“ Lord Hallison, come here—quick! Come
here!"

“What do you want?” huskilyinquired
Blair, still retaining one arm around Pauline,
who had fainted, and clutching her fair
throat the tighter.

“ Come quick, Lord Hallison! Madge
Marks is gone—"
“Curse her! What do I care? Do you

come in here and help me. Hurry!"

The physician ap ared, and as he did so,
there was a stifle exclamation of horror
from the opposite side of the room, where
stood Pauline's waiting-maid, who, alarmed
at her mist ress’s shriek, had hastened to see
what was the matter.

“Seize that irll Seize her!" cried the
nobleman; and randt, only comprehending
that immediate action was necessary, leaped
to the maid, secured her, and clapped a hand
over her mouth ere he realiZed the state of
thin s.

“ ou are strangling her. Lord Hallison!”
he exclaimed, as he saw the deadly gri in
which Pauline was held. “Don’t kill er!
What‘s the matter it"

Seeming to have changed his mind
through a sudden idea, rather than being
influenced by Gulick Brandt, Hallison Blair
released Pauline’s throat, and lifting her un-
conscious form in his arms, made toward the
door, saying:

 

 

“ Wait till I Come back—wait for me here.
Don’t let that girl escape you.”

He left the room and walked rapidly along
the entry with his burden. Then, with a
crook and a turn, he continued through a
side passage, leading by a spiral staircase to
the top of the house. Arrived at the upper
landing, he opened the door to sill another
entry, narrow, long, low; passing thence to
a small room. secluded from the main por-
tion of the mansion, into which he carried
his wife. Placing her upon asofa, he de-
parted hastily, having first taken the precau-
tion to turn the key in the lock. On leaving
the by-passage, had he turned his head, he
would have discovered a tall form, intently
Siltllt, with eyes bent upon hiru, and mouth
drawn in a significant smile. It was Madge
Marks. IIer sleep had ended abruptly as it
had come upon her. Arising from the lounge
in the room where she had been stricken
down insensible, she glanced about her in
Surprise, but snon remembered all.

“llere is no place for me," she re-olved.
“I must leave quickly. Devils and fiends!
Diego foiled me in getting me to drink! It
shall not be so again. \Vhen there is busi-
ness—thennoliquor. Iswcarit!” Shestole
silently from the room.

As she was about to advance to the stairs,
she heard persons ascending; and, to avoid
an encounter, she fled noiselessly in the op-
posite direction, concealing herself in an al-
cove at the further end of the hall.

'I‘Wo men entered the mom she had just
left; one kept on, halting before a door near
her, and disap caringr inside. The latter she
recognized as rd Blai'r.‘

Prompted by curiOSity, she went to the
door, and listened attentively to what passed
between the husband and wife.

She chuckled with satisfaction as she
drank in every word of l’auline‘s indignant
outburst. She was arouced from her caves-
dropping by the approach of Brandt, and
had barely time to regain her concealment
when the physician paused at the same
door. ‘

Then came a scream; Brandt cried out
that Madge Marks was gone; and in the
same moment, he, too, disappeared into the
room.

Presently the door opened; Blair came out,
carrying Pauline; and Madge Marks followed
after him like a specter.

Lord Blair returned to find the physician
as he had left him—still holding the terrified
girl, who trembled as her master re-entered
the boudoir.

“Mark me," he said, advancing, and ad.
dressing her sternly; “ if you do not wish to
die, you will be quiet." ‘

She crasped her hands imploringly, but
could not speak, so firmly did the physician
press his hand across her mouth.

“ Let her go, doctor.”

When Brandt released her, she sunk upon
her knees, and wailed: .

“Oh, tell me, my lord—what have you
done with my mistress? Where is she?
01)! oh! you have killed her! you have
killed her! ’and hiding her face in her apron,
she burst forth in a tempest of hysterical
sobs.

“Si‘ence, girl," commanded the English-
man. “Your mistress is safe enough. She
is unharmed. But heed “hat I say;" (tak-
ing her wrist, and closing his fingers over it
till she suffered intense pain); “if you dare
lisp one hint of what you have seen or heard,
I will certainly kill you, as I meant to kill
her! Do you understand me?"

“ Oh! yes, yes; if you tell me she is safe,
indeed, I wil say nothing. I will keep 3i:
lent; I will never let anybody know—you
are hurting me, my lord. Please let go my
wrist."

“Remember,” he admonished, hissingly,

threateningly. “If you 3911 any 0116. our
doom is sealed! NOW go! and she fled mm
the room.

“What have you done with your wife—
Pauline?" asked the doctor.

“Never mind her. I will attend to her.
Come, we must look to the detective.”

They returned to where Diego awaited
them. and the three started for the fencing-
room.

“ You owe me fifty pounds, my lord. Re-
member that,” said the bull-fighter, as they
moved away.

“Yes, Diego,” Blair assented, “,and fifty

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Detective Fleet of London.

29

 

more when you get the body afloat in the
Thames.”

“Good. Ithou ht it."

When they reac ed the room where they
had left Joe Fleet lying on the floor, ap-
parently lifeless, judge of their. astonish-
ment, upon opening the door, at disc ivering
——nothing!

He was gone!

CHAPTER XXVIII.
JOE FLEET DEFINES ms POSITION.

SCAM'E five minutes had elapsed after the
departure of his Would-be assassins, when
consciousness began to assert its sway; and
gradually the detective recovered from the
effect of Diego’s dreadful blow He sprung
to his feet and gazed about him bewildered-
ly. Then he advanced and tried the door-
knob, to find that he was securely fastened
in. But, as he turned again to the center of
the apartment. he smiled complacentlyms
he took out his diary and scribbled hastily
on a loose sheet:

“Send posse of lice to St. James Square.
House of Lord B air. Hurry up! Devil to
pay! .101; FLEET."

“ That’ll fix that!” tearing out another leaf
and writing as f0110Ws:

“Come to St. James Square. House of
Lord Blair. Hurry! You mustcome! Devil
to pay in full! JoE FLEET.”

“And that‘ll do for that! Now, then,
my worthy lord, we’ll see who plays trump
on this trick. ’Um! Can‘t beat me! can't do
it! I’m Joe Fleet, I am!”

Crossing over to the window, he raised
the sash, and, leaning out, blew a shrill
whistle.

In a few moments two
running, on the pavement
him.

“Here!” called the detective, who could
but faintly distinguish their outlines in the
gloom, “it's rue—Joe Fleet—Secret Service
—here’s a note. Take it to the nearest
station! Be nick! Watch for it!" and let-
ting fall the rst note, it fluttered lightly to
their feet. ’

“Here’s another,” he continued, casting
out the second slip. “Take that to the —
Hotel. Ask for Mr. Hassan—give it to him.
Be quick, now! I’m a prisoner. Cut-throats
and assassins up herel Run!” and as they
hurried off, the detective left the window.
Folding his arms, he paced to and fro, mut-
tering, with sarcasm:

“ The villains! Try to kill me, eh? Me!—
Joe Fleetl—detectivel—Secret ServiCe of
London! ’Um! very good! I’ll be even
with them. There’s another pickle for ’em
to suck. Oho! tpon't there has mess when
Messrs. Blair and Brandt find me alive and
kicking, and lots of lice on hand? Hal"

He paused and listened. Some one was
coming toward the fencing-room Close at
hand was the iron image which had served
Diego Perez. In a twinkling he had whisked
himself behindrthis, and none too 8000; for
he was scarce out of sight when the door
opened. and the noble, the physician, and
the bull-fighter entered. '

“He’s gone!
We are undone!”

“Silence, doctor; you are a fool !” ordered
Blair, sternly; thou h his own amazement
at not finding the etective was not with-
out its suggestions of fresh troubles.

"What do you make of this strange dis-

appearanCe, Diego?”
, “ Do I not see, like you, that he is gone?
What more is there? Am I a magician,
that I can tell wonders where other men
marvel?"

Advancing further into the room, Blair
overturneda heap of coats and leg ings in
one corner, as if he expected to flu the de-
tective hidden there. Then he turned to the
image, and was about to look behind it,
when a sound of tramping feet and murmur-
ing voices fell upon his ear.

“ What’s that?” he exclaimed, under his
breath, turning to Diego Perez.

“Dias!” surlily returned the Spaniard.
“why do you aim questions at me? I know
not. Here comes one who may tell.”

As he spoke, a comm footstep was heard
in the hall without, and a servant, panting
for breath, dashed in among them.

linemen met,
irectly beneath

Lord Hallison! He’s gone!

 

“What is the meaning of this, sirrah?
Why this disturbance below?" demanded
Lord Blair.

“D-d-d-hif you please, m-m-my lord, the ,
hall's full of coves who-who-who w-ww- '
want you, my lord! Police! ’ere they hare, g
a-comin' up ’ere, my lord,” and he was dis ;
torted with shivering and shaking.

The Englishman paled. Gulick Brandi'sw
face turned white as a sheet. Diego Perez
scowled and ground his teeth.

“Back! Back to the bait!” cried Lord
Blair, “and say your master offers twenty
pounds to' every man who will defend this
house and me against the intruders!” Then
to the physician. “ We are caged. You
must fight. Get a sword—quick!” and he
snatched 8. light saber from its hook, while a
savage, defiant gleam lighted his dark, ser-
pent eyes.

“ Htt’s too late, my lord! Hit‘s too late!”
brokenly ejaculated the serth; “ ’ere they
be a-comin’ now—oh!”

The confusion of sounds bad now ascend-
ed the main stairway; the stamp, clatter and
shuffle of numerous feet drew closer along
the entry.

DriVen to it by force of his perilous situa-
tion, Brandt armed himself with a rapier,
and took a stand beside Hallison Blair

Diego Perez tore abroadsword from the
wall, and giving utterance to a roar like an
enraged bull, bounded toward the stairway.

As he did so, a number of servants crowd-
ed in, keeping him back like a solid wall,
and in vain he threw himself against them
in a mad effort to break through.

The Spaniard’s object was to get out and
off He cared little what became of his two
com anions after that, but finding his wa
bloc ed, be fairly howled, and forced hs
way througl, only to be confronted by the
law deputies.

“It’s the Spaniard! seize him !”

Then began a struggle The hull-fighter
was well known to those who faced him as
a desperate character. and one for whose
arrest the authorities had frequently given
order. They attacked him 'with their batons,
and he fought and raVed, circling the bright
steel about his head with lightning quick-
ness and furious strength; but his fierce re-
sistance ambunted to naught. Wherever he
struck there scented to be a dozen batons
ready to receive and turn the blow; and with
every stroke a dozen batons bruised him in a
dozen different parts, until, bruised and
bloody, he tottered back into the fencing-
room; the sword fell from his grip; he sunk
to the floor, exhausted, to be immediately
seized and bound.

Headed by their sergeant, the policemen
filed in on one side of the apartment, while
the wondering, trembling servants shrunk
before them.

Blair leaped to the iron plate, and, placing
his back against it, brou ht his weapon to a

uard. In this action fie was imitated by

ulick Brandt.

“Back!” cried the former; “back, I say.
If you court death, then come on. The first
who approaches me dies. I will slay you all
sooner than be taken. Back! You dare not
lay a hand on me—”

A form whipped around the iron target;
the saber was knocked from the English-
man’s hand; astron grip was fastened on
his collar, and Joe leet, in a voice of tan
talizing calmness, said:

“ Can't, eh? Nobody lay a. hand on you?
Mistaken. See? I've got you tight! Now,
don’t by any means allow yourself to become
excited, my lord. It‘s unhealthy even for
the nobility. Joe Fleet, I am.”

Lord Ilallison Blair glared upon the de~
tective, and nearly choked in discomfiture as
he thus found himself overpowered in an
Instant by the man he had considered his
victim.

Qulick Brandt, with a wail, let fall his
rapier, and offered no resistance when strong
hands were laid upon him.

“Here‘s somebody that‘ll make you feel
bad—rogue!" continued Fleet, slightly shak-
ing the nobleman, and he pointed to Victor
Hassan, who at that moment entered follow-
ed by Calvert Ilerndon.

At sight of the latter, Blair gazed as one
who doubts his vision. Gulick Brandt tot-
tered and fell in a faint.

Joe Fleet was evidently well pleased with

 

“the situation. ”

‘

CHAPTER XXIX.

A RED TABLEAU.

Wr'rn face of ashen hue, the now thor-
oughly cowed Lord Blair turned to Calvert-
Herudon and gasped;

“ You—you are alive!”

“ Ay," returned the merchant, sternly,

i solemnly; “ alive, and come to confound you,

miserable wretch! justice demands that you
be delivered up. The injured victims to
your inhuman plottings await to see you
punished. Are you prepared ro render an
account to the Supreme Being for your
wickedness? Oh, villain—”

“Mercy!” fell from the nobleman’s lips,
in an involuntary breath, his hitherto strong
spirit now completely broken down.

“Mercy!” repeated Victor, gazing fixedly
at his enemy; “mercy? You ask mercy at.
our hands! Had you mercy for usi—for me,
when you tore from me a cherished idol, and
would have blasted my whole existence?
You strive to brutally murder two persons,
and blight the hopes of a third, and yet cry
for mercy! In the hour of our downfai
you cringe before your felow-men, and,
with lips that. never knew a prayer, but.
rather given to the defilement of Ho y Writr
crave pardon! Ask pardon of our God!
it is not ours to grant. Where is aulinef”

Before Blair could reply, the moment’s
silence was broken by a howl, as Diego
Pe ez, who had wrung his arms from the
hold of his captors, though not extricated
them from their bonds, darted from the
room.
“Quick, Madge Marks—cut these ropes!
My knife is in my bosom. Quick!”

in a second the ropes were sundered; and.
none too soon, for two policemen were upon;
him, their batons raised to strike.

With a yell, he swung his great arm
aloft. Crash! came his huge fist between
the eyes of the foremost, and, ere the sec-
ond could act, Diego was gone down the
passage.

" Answer my question, Lord Hallison-
Blair,” pursued Victor, advancing; ” where.
is Pauline ‘2"

“Yes, where is she?" screamed a cracked
voice at the door, and Madge Marks stood
before them with a glare of hatred fixed
upon Hallison Blair. ‘

“ She is here!" immediately cried another-
voice. and Pauline ran from behind the hag.
Two men exclaimed joyfully at her appear-
ance; one man, even in his despair and
chagrin, shot a baleful, fiery glance at those
new reunited.

Pauline seemed not to notice her wicked'.
husband: all others, save one, were lost in.
that riveted gaze which fastened upon Cal-
vert Herndon. Her beautiful bmvvn eyes:
widened, her breath seemed checked as she
beheld her father, like an apparition from
the grave, holding out his arms to receive
her.

“ Pauline! Pauline, my child?"

“Father! fatherl” '

All doubts were at rest, and' in: another
moment she was. nestling to that parental
breast.

Victor, despite the consideration that she
was the wife of another, instinctively clasped
her to his breast.

“Come,” said Fleet, addressing the ser.
geant in a business tone, " take these rascals
alwlay. ’ My Lord Blair says he‘ll go peace-
a y—’

“ He’s not 3 lord !” screamed Madge Marks”,
shrilly; "he‘s a low-born villain! He’s m
nephew! He’s the son of my sister, Sarah
Marks. Her husband’s name was Gregor—
his name's Hallison Gregor!” '

When Madge entered the room, a police-
man had xnstantly seized her, and as she thus
spoke, he shook her roughly, saying:

“Silence, hag!”

,"1 Will not," she persisted. “I know‘}
himwell. He’s my nephew. Itookthetrue'
son of Earl Harold to America many years
ago. I This man is only Hallison Gregor, my"
stster 3 child."

_ “ Ha!" exclaimed Victor, stepping vo'her
side. “you knew Victor Hassan- in his in
fancy? Do you know this, woman?” baring
his arm, and holding up to her view the

.coat-ofvarms of Blair, with the name.

For a moment she gazed upon the device;
for a moment she bent a close scrutiny upon ‘
his features; then she cried:

“ It is he! You are Victor! You—”

O

 

. l ",A v ‘ ‘ ‘
V...;;;.-..,g..;‘,..._-r.~ W‘.",fi;.—.32 L ‘_ ‘ ‘

....'.,..~.

C 3".

3O

Detective Fleet of London.

 

 

She was interrupted by the detective, who,
having been noting attentively what she
islaid, now enjoined upon the man who held

er:

“Keep her tight. Important witness she
is. Good! Everything goes on nicely. How
do you like it, Lord Hal—"

Blair was no longer at his side, and he
whirled around to discover the Englishman in
the act of committing suicide.

He had snatched up the fallen sword,
springing backward out of Fleet’s reach;
the hilt was against the floor, the point at
his breast. Before a hand could stay him
he threw himself upon the weapon; the
sharp blade pierced his heart, and without
g. groan or a cry, he sunk lifeless at their
eet.

“Bad—very bad that!” commented the
detective as a murmur of horror rose simul-
taneously on all sides. “Cheated the law,
after all. I— Eh? Hold him! Stop him!
Catch him!”

The latter cxelamat ions were‘ calleil forth
by a sudden commotion created by (.iulick
Brandt, who, half-mad with desperation,
had broken loose and dashed off in the con-
fusion.

Ile was pursued, but managed to escape
from the house, and that was the last ever
seen or heard of him. \Vhat became of hnn
after that night is a problem that even Joe
Fleet never could solve.

He was sorry, was disappointed at this
unlooked-for turn. He had anticipated a
rare case in the courts, as a result of the «.1:-
pose in which he had fltrured; when, here,
everything was quite sporled throu rh one of
his prisoners having committed an cide, and
the others having effected their escape.

The officers were dismissud, but Fleet re-
mained to attend to matters.

Pauline, with her father and Victor, re-
tired to a private parlor, where they could
enjoy, in rivacy, the emotions incident to
their bliss ulreunion~blissful even with the
ghaéiow of wrong and death over that house-

ol .

Fleet joined them shortly. and tendered
his congratulations, inquiring at the same
time if they had decided upon a course.

“Can we not go back again to America,
dear father?" suggested Pauline.

“But, what of Victor, my child ‘2” replied
the merchant, glancing at the young man.
“ He has a title to receive—a position to fill
in England.” '

“Title, father?"

It was then she learned of Victor what
the reader already knows; ascertained that
he, instead of the man who had been her
husband, was the son of the deceased Earl
Harold, and sole heir to the titles of that
nobleman.

“But I care little, if at all. for either title
or estate now. Mr. Herndon,” said Victor,
gazing lovingly at Pauline; “Pauline is re-
leased to me, and I am possessed of unrivaled
wealth in her love.”

“Well.” interposed Fleet, “I express my
opinion that you’d all‘ best ‘go to roost.’
It’s late—very late. To-morrow you can
arran e matters to suit yourselves.”

“ r. Fleet—-" began Victor, as he was
aboutto 0.

“Joe Fleet, if you please," interrupted
the detective.

“I must thank you for the great, great
service you have rendered me. I owe you
my life, and—”

“There! That’lldo. Go to bed. Go to
sleep. Get some rest, sir, get some rest.
Clear your brain for the debate to-morrow.
I‘ve got something to look after before
morning. Good night.” And as Victor,
bidding him good-night, passed out at the
door, he continued: “ ’Um! I’m glad of this.
Half expected they’d sit u all night! Very
sensible they are. Now! ‘11 see if the ser-
vants have attended to defunct Blair, and
then to the private papers, etc., to see what
1 can find. I want to know how Gulick
Brandt got into the position of executor,
after Herndon destroyed the will to that ef-
feet, as I have been informed was the case.
I'll see. Got an idea."

He went to the fencing-room, and seeing
that eve thing had been pro rly attended
to, first ispatched a servant or the under-
taker, and then proceeded to carry out the
idea he had conceived.

As Detective Joseph Fleet ascended the

 '1' 1.,. ..  ._.-. ,.,,. . .,..,.,, .,.

.w.

 stairs to the floor on which were the sleep-

: ing apartments of the late Hallison Gregor,
i a distant bell chimed forth upon the still
air, denoting the hour of two, and as the
clear notes echoed four strokes, Fleet
mused:

“Two o‘clock—and an echo, which is two
more. Twice two are four, and now I will
explore. So—thus slowly drags the night,
and all is quiet.”

CHAPTER XXX.
HOME AGAIN!

Two months later! The day was fine, the
wind fair, and a steady breezo filled the white
canvas of a noble vessel as it steered seaward.
bound for that haven for true hearts and
warm souls—America.

She bore upon her neat decks five passen-
gers. Who have figured as important charac-
ters in our narrative. viz ; Calve2t Herndon
and Pauline—the widowed Lady Blair—Vie.-
to. lizasan S. J E. Kraak, and Pauline's
former waiting-ninid. Kate,

It had lwt,‘ll decided that Victor should not
a'lvam-n his claim to the lordly title of the
deceased Earl of ————; the young man being
doubly lt‘l‘SiltliiCii by the merchant, who
promised ample income for his daughter and
her husband, fora brilliant wedding was to
take place immediately upon their arrival in
New York.

The lawyers, who had promiscd them-
selves an interesting court proceeding, were
somewhat disappointed on ascertaining the
altered intentions of their client; but a lib-
eral fee sufficed to pay them for what small
trouble they had already been at, to procure
the restoration of the papers in their pos-
session, and to insure their silence in regard
to the matter. Thus the proposed testimony
of the err-superintendent and Kate was done
away with.

Their future was, however, fully pro-
vided for; Kraak being appointed to a pleas-
ant position in Herndon’s house, and Kate
once more waiting upon her beloved mis-
tress, Pauline. ,

Of course the widow of deceased Lord
Blair duly received her portion.

Joe Fleet had been well rewarded, and had
given promise to hush the rather tragical ro-
mance to the extent of his ability. But just
sufficient leaked out, as is generally the ease.
to create a sensational gossip, which was
augmented by the sudden departure of Lady
Blair from London. '\

The sensation created by the advent of
Calvert Herndon. after so many had seen him
consigned to the tomb, is another point upon
which the reader must give his, or her,
imagination play.

The callers at the Home Mansion, when
it was again thrown open to life and
gayety, were numerous, and rumor, like a
rolling snowball, grew in bulk as it spread
about.

The merchant was overrun with visitors,
whose curiosity made them eager to know
by what miracle he had, as it were, arisen
from the grave.

Madge Marks was liberated by the London
authorities, after obtaining from her much
important testimony, but on condition that
she would leave the city immediately. This
she com lied with, and we take it for grant-
ed that Biego Perez went with her; for nei-
ther was seen again about their favorite
haunts, and, among others, Joe Fleet was
glad of the riddance.

 

A lovely night—the first snow of winter
Houses, trees, bushes and round are clothed
with the soft, pure mantle of flaky white,
which, though unlike the blooming and re-
freshing luxur of springtime, that adorns
nature in sub ime majesty and inspiring
grandeur, is not without a charm.

The air is hushed—but hark! there’s music
sounding. It seems smothered in a distant
place. yet distinct, and floatin to the ear in

entle cadence. A glaring laze of light
ails from the windows of the Home Man-
sion upon the glittering crust without. and
forms are flitting to and fro in the mazy
dance.

A ingle of sleigh-bells sounds on the road;
gay aughter of ladies and gentlemen drowns
the strains from violin and flute. and another
party has arrived to participate in the fes-

 

tivities.

.w...'..,--’.,.,.. A n,‘ 

 

Here we pause, hoping that the joy in-
augurated on that happy evening, when the
parlors thronged with well-wishing guests,
lasted, without a mar, through earthly life,
and alway

 

“ health and innocence
Transport the eye, the soul, the sense.”
THE END.

 

Beadle’s Halt-Dime library.

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER. JR.

3 Yellowstone Jack; or, The Trapper.
48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, The Out-law’s Rein IL.
65 llurrieune Bill; or, Mustang Snm ".4 Hi. pm),
119 Mustang Sam [orfli‘ho King oi the Plninl.
[Bil NixIIt-llnwk hit; or. The Daughter oftho Rnnch.
144 Dainty Lance the Boy Sport.
151 Pnnthor Paul; or, Dainty Lance to the Rescue.
160 The "lack Glunt; or, Dainty Lanrein Jeopardy.
Hill Deadly llunh ' or, Fighting Fire with Fire.
18 l The lloy Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on the Wnr-l‘ntn.
203 The llo l'ardn; or. Dainty Lance Unmnlks.
all Crooke Cale, the Caliban oi' (‘elentlnl City.
810 The llnrrnIu-n “'oll'; or, The Beautiful Decoy.
319 The llluek Rider; or. The llone-Thievu’ Longuo.
33.”) 0M Double Fin! 3 or, The Strange Guide
355'! 'l'lr- Kin;r oi the “'uodn: or Daniel Boone's Luv trail.
‘ll’ Kit Fox. the Border Boy Detective
625 (‘hinenpin Ilun, the Boy Trailer.
677 Chincalpln Dan‘s h‘m-oml '1 rail.
689i (lhim-npin lion‘s Home Stretch.
69?! "Id Crazy. the Man \‘l'ithuut n iiend.
70R Light-llonrt Lute'n Legacy.
718 Ll ht—lloart Lute’n Lav-t 'I‘rull.
723 Hi verhluilr. flu- Rho-hone.
729 flilverblmle, the Half-Blood; or, The Border Boogie ll Boy.
789 Silverhlnde, ihe l’lt'filill“: or, The Border liengle’n Trail.
748 Sllverblnde the Friendly; or, The Border Bengle'l Boy Pnrd

 

ll \' J0 PIERCE.

89'! "oh 0' the Bowery; or, The Princo of Mulberry Street.

‘15 The Vagabond Detective; or. Bowery Bob's Boon.

453 Ilotn ur Bob, the Street-Boy Detective.

460 The nwycr’n Shadow; or Luke's I‘m.

‘79 Jaunty Joe, the You Horse-King.

494 Surly Sim, the Youur erryman Detective.

504. Five Points PM], the Pavement Prince.

509 Jack Ja zero, the Butcher Boy harem".

516 Tartar ' lm; or. Five Points Phil’s Menagerie.

520 North River Nat. the Pier Detective.

533 “'rentllng Rex, the Pride ol'the Sixth Ward.

541 Jefl' Fllt-kor. the Stable Boy Detective.

551 Nick Nollie, the Boy Shadow; or, The Old Well Mystery.

559 “In-[em Jack, the (tiller Boy Dru-cure.

669 Brooklyn “on, the On-lilr-Own-iiook Detective.

577 Pavement Pete the Secret. Sifter.

588 Jnek-o’-Lnntern, the Under—Sen Prospector.

608 Wide-Awake Bert. the Street-Steer".

814 Whlntling Jacob, the Delefllre’l Aid.

628 Buck Bumblebee, the leiem Hummer.

 aurlnens?!‘ tlgolxpreaz‘Trnin Ferret. u M
l-n o.te wory “momma. m

658 Sky-Rocket Rob. the Lilo-Savor.

098 fl-Itpcter Fol. the New York Navigator

094 Spicy Jirn, the Onh‘ One of His Kind.

706 Tom Thlntle. the Road-House Dotectlu.

71‘? Mosquito Jack, the Hustler Gnmin.

Tail Dennis [half the Brown Sport’s Kid.

744 "lek of flu- Ilm-kn, the Night-“aids.

T65 Flipper Fl rm, the Street Patrol.

7’“ Foxy Fred I (Md l’nrdt or, The Kuner’s Hogs Hails.

7H1 (Inst-(HY Pale, the Scapegoat Detective.

824 llowrry Billy, the Bunro Bouncer.

88? The Big Four of the Bowery.

846 Buck. the New York Shnrpcr.

850 The Grand Street Arab.

865 The West Broadway Gar-in.

I I SOELLAN noun AUTIOII.

4 The Wlld-lloroo llnntorn. By Capt. lay-o Ida and

Frodorich Whittaker.

O Adventures of Baron Munch-noon.

I. Gulliver‘s Trnvolo. B Donn Swift.

1‘ Alnd dln; nr, The Wonder ul anp.

10 Roblnoon Crum. (91 Illustrations.)

18 Bindhnd the Sailor. His Seven Voiyggu.

II The Son Serpent; or. The Boy Bob naon Crusoe. I, J...
i

w s.
I! The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pinion of in.
Cnrribees. B S. W. Pierce. -
80 The Boy lownt or, The Arena Queen. By l' 3.11“.
88 Ned Wyldc. the Boy Scout By Texas Jack.
51 The lloy "lilo-t or. The Underground Cnmp. By A, 0,110...
95 The Rival Ilovero; or, The I‘mboours of the “hi-sip“
By Noun-Col. Hmltino.
98 Robin Hood. tho Unilever! l‘mlz on“. lorry In or on...
wood. B Prof. Gildenloovo.
10‘ old Ruhe, the Hunter: or. The Cm Captive. By cw
Hamilton Holmes.
11. Tho Ind "Intel" or. ‘hoCsvo o nth. By Bub-Sou.
I“ Tipp’. the Tex-I8 or, The You Champion. .7 Goo".
GI so

I.

1.8 Th: Yul-z I'rlvnuort or. Tho Pluto's Stronghold. By
Harry Cavendish.

1‘8 SDI-Pp Inuit or, The Advo: tum or n Noodle-I Boy. By J.
Alexander Patton.

"1 hunky Darrell. Tremor; or. The Green Buger oilho Ysl.
low-tons. I.By Edwardht  Y” '0’ ' a 1““

201 l' I enrnnnc o 0- . . .

I00 Kllfh‘lnr. the Guide; ~r,D-vy Crochw. M.
By Ensign C. D. amp.

.0. Rod Glow. the Onto-I!“ Tm 0'. The Hold oi the Clll.

I C oioc .

ur 3%....°"‘t'p::‘. on may w tron my". a, u...
to t Alfred 'l'harno. -

I” Tallinn” Reflective: 0'. A Boy’0 Fight ior Lites-d Honor.
B Inior Mickey Free.

“0 od Rnlph, the River Rover. on“. W lo-

vonn. By Ned Bun tline.

it: Eaten?"  htb’a‘fam ' z- is":

- nut own: or. nl n .
.70 gflllfori'nll Joe’s First Troll. ’7 COO-'1 TIC-
\ .
41s Bi 1'; mm... or. our Climb-r. my I. s. Winthrop.

. Bv John I Warrior.
2::  lane”: and Illa Three lnvlnoihloo. I,
. Tbornol.
“I Ryd'owho Duke. ’7 l4!"- Broeh PM.
“I Ariel the A 1.... Iv David Druid.
5” Will Wotan, m Bov Yams. Bv H. lam.
on Tim no I Motlve’o Donhlo. By a...” cm“.
7.1 anorle‘ fictive; or, The Wind d
Urkon Paul. By will Liwnheo.
809 Don llnnton. the Gent from Denver. By Kin. Rummy“,
. . Secret Service Corps.
814 A re High. the Fri-co lkieetlve. By C. E. Tripp.
880 The Grill Lodan in R. Au." 0" emu" R.“
of Number Seven. By Ben D. H: lidnv.
By J. G. Bethnro.

RM The. Chicago llrnnlvner’n Deni.
841 Pug-neophnrlle, the Cat’s-in Sport. By Minna-

dn 0 \.
848 Don t e River Sport; or, Polling the Frisco Sharp. By
Haro d Payne.
I New lune Every Tudor-

‘l‘ho Rolf-Dino Llhrnry ls lor ulo try all Nowodalsn, Ivo
sniper copy, or out by nail on receipt of six oolio noel.

BEADLI AND ADAII, Poul-hon.
.8 Willin- “root. NW YOU.

 

no... the Arisoon

 

, “flkvwg A _

“’1’

 

< s 1‘.‘ “A---

"1 ‘._‘..-v

BEADLE’SrDIMErflBR/XRY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER. JR.
92q Old Sobersizles, the Detective of 9*. Louis. .
925 White-Horse Wheeler, the Revenue Detective.
916 The Double Edge] Deteciive.
907 Maverick Mark. the Mm from Nowhere.
‘l Silky ‘H'Ole, the Stay-in Spin",
6‘81 T e S hitter-Sport’s N C!:-'l‘ie Par-y.
870 High- ater Mark; or. Silver-Tip Sid.
862 Riata Rob, the Range Cliam ion.
85?) The C arbor Chief s Sure-S 0t.
846 Tue Rival Red-Hat Sports.
8‘37 Curlv Kid. the Clieyt nne Sport.
82A The Soft Hand Dett ctive.
815 The Soft Hand‘s Clutch.
809 Din Dunn the Soft-Hand Spelt.
796 The Frisco lletectlve’s Tl tic-Tangle.
789 Sam Cary. the Rivet Sp rt.
780 l‘ e l)t*'l<l Stu rt‘s l‘t uhlv'.
771 Prince John. Detectiw Special.
763 handy boil, the Denver Detective.
754 l he Man floui Texas; or, Dangerfield, the
744 goctor Defective.
wee ta es Sam the Silver S ort.
720 The beforet Six; or, 0 d Iiulcygn.
712 The Man of Si.k.
705 Bantam Bob. the Beauty from Butte.
693 hent K‘lSSull, the Preacher Sport.
681 Bob Breeze. the Rounder Do tective.
675 Steel Sorry, the Sport in m Sunrise.
Solemn Saul's Luck Str ak
661 The Get-There Sham.
651 Silverlip St ve, the Sky Scraper from Siskiyou.
61.6 (lopher (iuhe, the UllSt‘i‘ll Drti‘cllVO.
636 Dandy Darling, Deli-Clive.
627 Mossbrtck Mose, the Moun aiiieer.
The Grip Sack Sharp‘s Even up.
597 Big Bandy. the Brigadier of Brimstone Butte.
588 Sandy Sands. the Sharp l'rotn Snap City.
576 Silver-Tongued Sid: or, Grir Sack Sharp‘s Sweep.
664 The Grip-Stick Shurp; or. The Seraplis of Sodom.
$5 Grip-Sack Sid. the, Sample Sport.
547 lhe llui'ied Detective; t r. Sn 1‘s Six Sensations.
541 Major Magnet. the Men of Nerve.
535 Dandv Dutch. the Decorator from Dead-Lift
527 Dandy Andy, the Diamond D. tective.
514 Gabe Gun). the Urizzl ' from Ginseng.
504 Solemn Saul. the Sad lion from San Saba.
495 Rattlepate Rob; or. The Roundhcad‘s Reprisal
486 The Thort u nbred Sport.
474 Daddy Dea -Eye. the Desnot 01' Dew Drop.
466 0‘6 Rough and Ready, the Sage of Sundown
458 Dutch Dan. the Pilgrim tr. m Spitzenberg.
44-3 A Cool Hand: or. Pistol Johnny’s l'icnic.
418 Oklahoma Nick.
483 Laughing Leo; or. Sam‘s Dandy Pard.
426 The Ghost Detective: or. The Secret Service Spy.
416 Monte Jun. the BlaCK Sheep of Bismarck.
1409 Rob Roy Ranch: or. The lmps of Pan Handle.
40‘: The NameleSs Sport.
395 Deadly Aim. the Duke of Derringers.
387 Dirk Durg. the Ishmael of the Hills.
“372 Captain Crisp. the Man with a Record.
367 A Royal Flus.i: or. Dan Brown’s big Game.
360 Jumping Jerry. the Gamecock from Sundown.
355 Storm Steve. the Mad Athlete.
351 Nor‘ est Nick. the Border Detective.
345 Masked Mark. the Mounted Detective.
339 Spread Eagle Sam. the Hercules Hide Hunter.
331 Chispa Charley. the Gold Nugget Sport.
817 Frank Liglitfoot. the Miner Detective.
‘292 Moke Homer. the Boss Roustabout.
286 Pistol Johnny; or. Ore Man in a Thousand.
283 Sleek Sam. the Devil of the Mines.
257 Death Trap Diggings: or. A Man ’Way Back
219 Elephant Tom. of Durango.
4241 Spitfire Saul. King of the Rustlers.
.233 The Old Hoy of Tombstone.
201 Pirate of the Placers: or. J0 uin‘s Death Hunt
18) Old '49' or. The Amazon of A .
170 Sweet llliam. the Trapper Detective.
“165 Joaquin. the Terrible
154 Joaquin, the Saddle King.
141 uinox Tom. the Bul' ' of Red Rock.
119 A abama Joe: or. The 'azoo Man~Hunters.
105 Dan Brown of Denver: or. The Detectivn.
88 Big George; or. The Five Outlaw Brothers.
71 Captain Cool Blade: or. Mississippi Man Shark.
67 The Boy Jockey: or, Honesty vs Crookedness. .
:50 Jack Rabbit. the Prairie Sport.

BY \Vl'l. G. PATTEN.

310 Fire—E e. the Thug‘s Terror.
795 Old ght-Hawk, the Crook Shadower.
768 The Fun 8 of New York Crooks.
756 Old Burke, the Madison Square Detective.
747 Double-voice Dan‘s Doubt. Disguise.
715 Double—Voice Dan on Deck.
702 Double-Voice Dan, the Always-on-Deck Detective
696 Double-Voice Dan, the Go-lt Alone Detective.
689 The Sparkler Sharp.
676 Hurricane Hal. the Cowboy Hotspur.
069 Old True Blue. the Trusty.
003 The Giant Sport: or, Sold to Satan.
056 Old Ptu'z Urzly. the Rough and Ready.
648 Gold Glove Gi l, lll‘ M?!“ of Grit.
041 Aztec Jnck. the Desert Nomad.
5331 Colonel Cool. the Santa Fe Sharp.
‘602 outrun, Nam.qu ti 9 Mountain Mystery.
571 01 Dismal. the Borg: Detectiw.

Hustler Harry, the Cowboy Sport.

nv (monun C. JENKS-
910 The Arizona Detev'tive.
Silver Sam. the Shasta Srort.
The Silver Sport‘s D uhle.
The Race-Course Dl-tectlve.
l‘he Hayseed Detective.
Cg tairi Corden the Twister Detective.
755 \\ (1 Pete the Broncho-Buster Detective-
Fearless Sam. the Grand CombinJion Detective.
719 fission 1130b, tillie S rt Detective.
1 un y 00. t e orke ' Detective.
% Mad Sharp. the Rustle’r
hm Rilbe Rocket. the Tent Detective.
so? Death-Grip, the Tenderfoot Detective.
he Drummer Detective.
m The Giant Horseman
Sleepless Eye. the Pacific Detective.

a
H
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BY ‘VILLIAIVI R. EYS'I‘EII.

916 Two Dead-Square Sports.

902 Sort, Velvet, the, Man trom Sandrock.

891 lienteel Jim. Sport-atvLargE.

Stu The Clubman-Crook‘s Cat's-paw.

867 The Frisco Sport.

852 The Stranger S ort‘s Shake~up.

8228 Kirk King. the, an from Kirby.

8l8 Gentleman Dave, the Dead Game Sport

7 The King-Pin Tramp.

767 The Sport of bilver Bend.

7'18 Unc e Bedrock’s Big Bounce.

707 The Rival Rovers. _

667 Double Cinch Dan, the Spt rt With a Charm.

6? Mr. Jackson, the Gent in m Jayhlrd.

659 Gilt-Edge Johnny: or. Roldan and His Rovers.
650 Lucky Lester’s Lt ne Hand.

634 Old iiandcurt‘s Big Dump.

622 Th.- All Around Sports.

603 Deser. Alf. the Man With the Cougar.

590 Gentle Jack, the High Roller from Humbug.
.578 Schii Snot Steve, the Sport with a Smile.
568 The Dude Detective.

558 Hurrah Harry. the High Horse from Halcyon.
549 Belshazzzir Brick. the Bailiff of Blue Blazes.
533 Oregon. the Sport \\ ith aScar.

50"; The Dude from Denver.

478 Pinnacle Pele; or. The Fool from Way Back.
459 M'ijor Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives.

420 Hair ’l‘t‘igqm‘ Toni of Red I end.

402 Snapshot Sam: or. The Angels” Flat Racket.

:5. ' The Piper Detectiw; or. The Gilt Edge Gang.
376 Royal George, the Three in One.

356 ’i‘hr e Handsome Sports; or, The Combination.
tiflfl Derrincer Dick. the Men with the Drop.

268 Music Mike “to Man of Frills.

2120 Captain (‘ii‘Sleevc: or. The Little Sport.

211 Th i Two Cool Sports: or. Gertie of the, Gulch.
182 Hands Up; or, The Knights Of the Canyon.

160 Soft Hand, Sharp: or. The Man with the Sand.
145 Pistol Pards; or, The Silent Sport from Cinnabar

BY NED BUN'I‘LINE.

657 Long Tom. the Privateer.
633 The Sea Slpy.
621 The Red rivateer; or, The Midshipman Rover.
58-! Fire Feather. the Buccaneer King.
517 Buflalo Bill‘s Finst Trail.
361 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot.
1'22 Saul Sabberday. the Idiot 
111 The Smuggler Captain: or. to Skipper’s Crime.
13 The Sea Bandit: or, The Queen of the Isle.
16 The White Wizard; or. The Seminole Prophet.

“Y JACKSON KNOX—“Old Hawk.”

938 Old Grips Still Hunt.

827 Detectiio \\ nltlt-n‘s Web.

778 The Butler Detective; or. Old Grip’s Grip

77‘) The Showman Dete two.

762 Old Grip. the De'ectiVe.

740 Capt in Clew, the Fighting Detective.

732 The Hurricane Detective.

643 Castlemaine. the Silent Sifter.

616 Magnus. the Weird Detgctive.

606 The Drop Detective.

595 \Vellborn. the Upper Crust Detective.

582 Jori m. the Detective Expert.

574 Old Falcon‘s Double.

561 The Thug King' or, The Falcon Detective's Foe.
518 Falcmibridge. t e Sphinx Detective.

5‘36 Old Falcon 5 Foe: or. The Detective‘s Swell Job.
515 Short-Slop Mn 'e, the Diamond Field Detective.
509 Old Fal on. t io Thunderbolt Detective.

501 S ringstcel Steve, the Retired Detective.

491 T e Detective’s S y
485 Rowlock. the Ear
477 Dead-arm Brandt.
467 Mainwaring. the Salamander.

462 The Circus Detective.

451 Griblock. the Rocket I‘etective.

444 The Magic Detective; or, ihe Hidden Band.
424 Hawk Heron‘s Deguty.

386 Hawk Heron. the alcon Detective.

I
Q'—

‘2

r Detective.

BY J. C. CO‘VDIIICK.

752 The Sus ect S or‘ of Dnisv Drift.

626 Ducats ion, t e Nnbob Sport Detective.

612 Sherifl' Stillwood. the. Regulator of Raspberry.
5% The Dominic Detective.

591 Duke Daniels. the Society Detective.

580 Shadowing a Shadow.

565 Prince Paul. the Postman Detective.

557 The Mountain Graybearils: or. Riddles’ Riddle.
519 Old Riddles. the Rock Ranger

499 Twilight Charlie, the oad Sport.

473 Gilbert or Gotham. the Steel-arm Detective.
452 Rainbow Bob. the Tulip from Texas.

436 Kentucky Jean. the Sport from Yellow Pine.
422 Blue Grass Burt. the Gold Star Detective.

390 The Giant Cupid: or Clbuta John‘s Jubilee.

BY EDWARD WI LLET'I‘.

483 Flush Fred. the River Shgig).

368 The Canyon King: or. 8. cc on his Head.

348 Dan Dillon. King of Crosscut.

337 Old Gabe. the Mountain Tram .

327 Terrapin Dick. the Wild wood etective.

315 Flush Fred‘s Double; or, The Squatters' League
303 Hemlock Hank. Tough and True.

296 L ‘gzer Lem: or. Life in the Pine Woods.

289 Flus‘i Fred‘s Full Hand.

274 Flush Fred. the Mississippi Sport.

248 Montana Nat. the Lion of Last Chance Camp.
2‘22 Bill the Blizzard: or. Red Jack's Crime.

209 Buck Farley. the Bonanza Prince.

129 Mississippi E1030: or. a Strong Man's Sacrifice.~

BY (‘1 PTAIN MAYNE REID.

W The White Squaw.

an The. Hunter’s Feast.

21 l The Wild Huntress; or. The Squatter.

200 The Rifle Ran rs: or. Adventures in Mexico.
74 The Captain 0 the Rifles: or. The Lake ueen.
66 The Specter Barque. A Tale of the Pact c._

55 The Scalp Hunters. A Romance of the Plains.

 

BY COL. PREN'I‘ISS INGRAIIAM.

911 The Blue Blockader; or, The Coast Grayhound.

906 The Cuban Crumer.

851 The Ocean Gipsy.

834 'l he Wild Steer Riders;or, Texas Jack’s Terrors.

819 The Rival Monte Cristos.

805 The Last of the Pirates; or. Do In Driven.

801 The Water \Volves’ Detective; or, Trapping the
Grave Ghouls.

791 The Coast-Raider’s Death Chase.

748 Arizona Char-ie. 'ITl‘ Crat k-sl ot Detective.

704 invisible Ivan the Wizard Detective.

685 The Red-skin Sen RoVer.

679 Revello. the Pirate Cruiser; or. The Rival Rovers

672 The Red Rapier: or, The Sea Rover’s Bride.

662 The Jew l)~tective: or, The Beautiful Convict.

610 'I‘:;e Rov r’s kit ibutitln.

6‘1") The Ex Buccane r t r. The Stigma of Sin.

6‘25 Red Wings; or. The Gold Seekers of the Bahamas.

615 The Three uccaneers.

610 l he Red Flag Row r;or.White Wings of the Deep.

605 The Shadow Silver Ship.

600 ’l he Silver Ship: (r, The Sea Scouts or ‘76.

59:5 The Sea Rebel: or. Red Rovers of the Revolution.

597 Conrad. the Sailor Spy; or. True Hearts of ’76.

591 The Outlawul Skipper; or, The Gantlet Runner.

560 The Man from Mexico.

535 Mink Monte. the Mutineer; or. The Branded Brig.

516 TM Doouied Whaler: or. The Life Wreck.

.530 The Savages of the Sea.

5'34 The Sea Cb'iser; or, The Pirate Noble.

510 El Moro, th ~ Corsair Commodore.

493 The Scouts of the Sea.

457 The Sea Insurgent: or. The Conspirator Son.

446 Ocean Ogre. the Outcast Corsair.

43.3 The One-Armed Buccaneer.

430 The Fatal Frigate; or, Rivals in Love and Wu;

399 The New Monte Cristo.

393 The Convict Captian.

377 Afloat and Ashore: or. The Corsair Conspirator.

369 The Coast Corsair: or. The Siren of the Sea.

364 The Sea Fugitive: or. The Queen of the Coast.

311 The Sea Desperado.

336 The Magic Snip' or. Sandy Hook Freebooters.

325 The (leiitlenmn Pirate; or. Tn! Casco Hermlts.

318 The Indian lsuccaueer: or. '1 he Red Rovers.

30? The Phantom Pirate; or. The Water Wolves.

255 The Pirate Priest; or. The Gam bler’s Da hter.

246 ueen Helen, the Amazon of the Overlan .

235 Lightning the Man of Chance.

2‘34 Black Beard. the Buccaneer.

an The Specter Yacht; or, A Brother's Crime.

210 Buccaneer Boss. the Lioness of the Sea.

305 The Gambler Pirate; or. Lady of the Lagoon.

198 The Skeleton Schooner; or. The Skimmer.

184 The Scarlet Schooner: or. The Sea Nemesis.

104 Montezuma. the Merciless.

103 Merle, the Mutineer; or. The Red AnchorBrand.

BY PHILIP 8. WARNE.

802 Dan Dirk King of No Man’s Land.

58‘! Captain Adair. the Cattle King.

567 Captain Midnight. the Man of Craft.

544 The Back to Back Pards.

522 The Chain ion Three.

502 Bareback uck. the Centaur of the Plains.
472 Six Foot Si; or, The Man to “ Tie To."

431 California Kit. thn Always on Hand.

404 Silver Sid; or. A “ Daisy " Bluflf.

380 Ticer Dick’s Pied e: or. Tne Golden Serpent.
359 Yellow Jack. the estizo. "

338 Jack Sands. the Boss of the Town.

299 Three of a Kind; or, Dick. Despard and the Sport.

‘ 251 Tiger DiCK .ve. lt‘ou Despard.

Old Hard Head: or. Whirlwind and his Mare.
1 1 Tiger Dick. the Man of the Iron Heart. ,
114 The Gentleman from Pike.
80 A Man of Nerve; or. Caliban the Dwarf.
54 Always on Hand; or. The Foot-Hills Sport.
29 Tiger Dick. Faro King; or. The Cashier’s Crime.
4 The Kidnapper; or, The Northwest Shanghai.

BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON.

823 Hotspnr Hum; or. The Banded Brothers.
811 Heavy Hand: or. The Marked Men.

305 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover.

291 Horseshoe Hank. the Man of Big Luck.

285 Lightning Bolt. the Canyon Terror.

276 Texa ' Chick. the Southwest Detective.

271 Stoneflst. of Big Nu et Bend.

266 Leopard Luke the us: of Horse-Thieves.
an iron-Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destroyer
258 Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo.

237 Lon -Hairerl Max; or, The Black 0.
227 Buc shot Ben, the Man-Hunter of Ida i0.
223 Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mountain.

219 The Scorpion Brothers; or. Mad Tom’s Mission
H12 Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide.

194 Don Sombrero. the California Road Gent.

176 Lady Jaguar. the Robber Queen.

BY OLL COOMES.
619 Kit Bandy& Co . the Border Detectives.
148 One-Armed Alf. the Giant Hunter.
99 The Giant Rifleman: or. Wild Camp Life.
43 Dakota Dan. the Reckless Ranger. -

BY COL. THOMAS H. MONSTEB'o

236 Champion Sam; or. The Monarchs of the 3101!
150 El Rubio Bravo. King or the Swordsman. '

BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR.
919 The Sea Scout; or. The Patriot Privateer.
$6 The King of Crooks.
858 Number One. the Dead-set Detective.
850 The Planter Detective.
780 Duke Despard. the Gambler Duelist.
604 The Detective in Rags; or, The Grim Shadom'
500 The True-Heart Pards.
4 new {sew every Wednesday
Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale 13] ‘
Newsdealers. ten cents per copy. or sent by m a
receipt of twelve cents each.
BEADLE AND ADAMS. Punt.qu
N \VILLIAM Sin. N" You.

 

1

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 .5 aim-wave 5 “

BEADLE’SrDIMEruBRARY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Umform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

‘l.’.

 

 

—_

BUFFALO BILL NOVELS.
By Colonel Prentiss liigraliam.

943 Buffalo Bill’s Block Game. =

936 Buffalo Bill s Black Pard.

927 Buffalo Bill‘s Bluff; or, Dinky Dick the Snort.

921 Buffalo Bill‘s Quandary: 0r. Velvet Bill's Vow.

915 Buffalo Bill and the Surgeon-Scout.

909 Buffalo Bill’s League; or. Red Butterfly.

904 Buffalo Bill’s Tangled Trail.

900 Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders.

895 Buffalo Bill‘s Secret Ally.

890 Bufl'alo Bill‘s Lift-Stake.

882 The Three Bills: Bull?an i‘ill Wild Bill and Band—
box Bill: or. The Bravo in Broadcloth.

874 Buffalo Mill‘s Buckskin Braves.

869 Buffalo Bill’s Road-Agent Round-up.

863 Buffalo Bill’s Dell‘ll Charm.

857 Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush.

851 Buffalo Bill's Double Dilemma.

845 Buffalo Bill’s Redskin Ruse.

8‘30 Buffalo Bill‘s Bows in Blue.

826 Buffalo Bill’s Shar Shooters.

822 Buffalo Bill‘s Best owel‘.

816 Buffalo Bi l‘s Red Trail.

812 Buffalo Bill‘s Death-Kile".

794 Buffalo Bill’s Winning Hand.

78? Buffalo Bill‘s Dead Shot.

781 Buffalo Bill‘s Brand.

777 Buffalo Bill’s Spy Shadower.

769 Buffalo Bill‘s Sweepstake.

765 B rfEalo Bill‘s Dozen: 0r. Silk Ribbon Sam.

761 Buffalo Bill’s Mascot.

757 Buffalo Bill’s Double.

7" Buffalo Bill‘s Big Four;or. (Juster‘s Shadow.

743 Buff-do Bill‘s Flush Hand.

739 Buffalo Bill‘s Blind: or. The Masked Driver.

735 Buffalo Bill tml His Merry Men.

731 Buffalo Bill‘s Beagles: or. Silk Lasso Sam. -

727 Buffan Bill‘s Bodv Guard.

722 Buffalo Bill on the \\'ar- ath.

716 Buffalo Bill‘s Scout Sh8( owers.

710 Buffalo Bill Bafiil d: or. The Deserter Desperado.

697 Buffalo Bill’s Buckskin Brotherhood.

691 ~-uffalo Bill's Hind Trail: or. Mustang Madge.

667 Buffalo Bill‘skaoopwr. The King of the Mines.

658 The Cowb 1v Clan: or. The Tigress of Texas.

653 Lass ) King‘s League; or. Buck Taylor in Texas.

649 Buffalo Bi.l's Chief of Cowboys: or. Buck Taylor

614 Buffalo Bill‘s iloiiat za; or. Si ver (‘ircle Knights.

362 Buffalo Bill's Grif : or. (111111 Bound to (luster.

829 But!an Bill’s Plet go: or. The League of Three.

189 ll iid Bill‘s Gold Trail; or. The Desperate Dozen.

175 Wild Bill’s 'l‘ruinp Card: or. The lndian Heiress.

168 Wild Bill. the Pistol Dead Shot.

By Bu ll‘ulo Bill.

839 The Ranch King Dead-Shot.

820 White Beaver ’s Still Hunt.

807 Wild Bill. the Wild West Duelist.

800 Wild Bill. the Dead-Center Shot.

639 Buffalo Bill’s Gold King.

599 The Dead Shot Nine: or. My Pards of the Plains.

414 Red Renard. the Indian Detective.

401 One-Armed Para; or, Borderland Retribution.

897 The Wizard Brothers: or. White Beaver’s Trail.

894 White Beaver. the Exile of the Platte.

319 Wild Bill. the Whirlwind of the West.

304 Texas Jack. the Prairie Rattler.

243 The Pilgrim Sharp: or. The Soldier‘s Sweetheart.
8‘3 Gold Bullet SOON; or. Knights of the Overland.

[52 Death-Trailer. the Chief of Scouts.

By Loon Lewis, Ned Buntllne, etc.

773 Buffalo B'li’s Ban; or. Cody to the Rescue.

682 Buffalo Bill‘s Secret Service Trail.

629 Buffalo Bill's Darin Role; or. Daredeath Dick.

517 Buffalo Bill's First rail; or. The Express Rider.
158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts.

117 Buffalo Bill 8 Strange Pard: or, Dashing Dandy.
92 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King.

BY HAROLD PAYNE.

883 The Man from Mexico in New York.

872 The King-Pin Shark; or, Thad Burt's Ten Strike.
861 The Tenderloin Big Four

858 The Quaker City Crook.

844 Tracked to Chicago.

886 The Policy Broker‘s Blind.

829 The Frisco Sharper‘s Cool Hand.

821 The Tramp Siiadower‘s Backer.

813 The Sham S otter's Shrewd Scheme.

$6 The Grand treet Gold-Dust Sharpers.

798 Detective Burr‘s Lunalic Witness

799 The Wall Street Sharper’s Snap.

784 Thad Burt‘s Death Drop.

742 Detective Burr Among the New York Thugs.
734 Detective Burr’s Foil; or. A \\ oman‘s Strategy.
728 Detective Burr. the Headquarters Special.
713 Detective Burr‘s Spirit Chase.

706 Detective Burr’s Seven Clues.

698 Thad Burr. the Invincible: or, The “L ” Clue.
690 The Matchless Detective.

680 XX. the Fatal Clew; or, Burr’s Master Case.

BY LlEll'l‘. A. K. SIMS.

914 Snowflake Sam's Double.

897 The Six-Shot Spotter.

887 The. Stranger Sport from Spokane.

873 The Sport Detective’s Colorado Clew.

860 The Spangled Sport Shadower.

813 PM Crescent City Sport.

832 Gid Gale‘s Block Game.

804 Tue King Pin of the Leadvilie Lions.

786 Chicago Charlie‘s Diamond Haul.

776 Chicago Charlie, the (‘oiumbian Detective.

758 The Wizar l King Detective.

721 Teamster Tom, the Boomer Detective.

709 Lodestone Lem, the Champion of Chestnut Burr.
695 Singer Sam. the Pilgrim Detective.

666 River Bustiers; or, the Detective from ’Way Back
673 Stuttering Sam, the Whitest Sport of Santa Fe.
666 Old Adamant, the Man of Rock.

618 Kansas Karl, the Detective King.

‘652 Prince Primrose. the Flower of the Flock.
628 Huckleberry, the Foot-Hills Detective.

 

Juli

BY CAPTAIN H0“'ARD “()LMES.

929 Gentleman George, tire Showman Sport.
912 Genteel Joe's Lone Hand.
903 The Train Detective.
896 Kent Keen. the Crook-Crusher.
888 Nightshade in New York.
879 Falcon Flynn, the Flash Detective,
" The Crook Cashier.
859 (flew-Hawk Keene‘s Right Bower.
817 Hiram Hawk, the Harlem Detective.
640 Major Bullion Boss of the Tigers.
S‘ll Shadowing the London Detective.
817 Plush Velvet. the Prince of Spotters.
803 The ilogu< Broker‘s Right BOWer.
788 The Nightfliwk Detec’iVe.
7‘79 Silk RdibOii‘s Cr. sh-out.
766 Detective Zach. the Broadway Spotter.
The Dark Lantern Det. ('tive,
736 The Never-Fail D tectiVe.
724 Captain Hercules. the Strong Arm Detective.
711 Dan Damon. the GiltvEdge Detective.
701 Siivor Steve. the Branded Sport.
694 lideon Grip, the Seeiet Shadower.
684 Velvet Van. the Mystery SllfldOVVtF.
67s The Dude Desperado
671 Jason Clew the Silk-Wnnded Ferret.
664 Monk More, the Man-Hun er.
651 Sol S hiiix. the Feriet Detective.
612 Red ard itllll Yellow
608 Silent Sam, the Shadow Sphinx.
592 Cu llfllil Sid, tlte Shasta Ft rret.
579 Old Cormorant. il e Bowery Shadow,
569 Captain Cobra. the Hooded Mystery.
559 Danton. the Shadow Sharp.
5.30 Silk Hand. tlie Mohnw Ferret.
613 The Magnetic Detective.
532 Jack Javert. the independent Detective.
523 Reynard of Red Jack: or. The. Lost DetectiVe
512 Cu tain Velvet's Big Stake.
505 Phil Fox. tiieGeiiteel Spotter.
496 Richard Redftre. the Two Worlds’ Detective.
48? Sunshine Sam. a Chip of the Old Block.
480 Hawkspear. the Man with a Secret.
4 '8 Coldgrip in Deadwood.
460 Captain Coldgrip. the Detective
45% Captain Coldgrip's Long Trail.
447 Volcano. the Frisco Spy.
411 The California Sharp.
434 Lucifer Lynx. the '0 outier Detective.
421 Father Ferret. the Frisco Shadow.
4133 Captain Coldgrip in New York.
407 Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve: or. lnjun Nick.
400 Captain Coldgrip: or. The New York Spotter.
392 The Lost Bonanza: or. The Boot of Silent Hound.
382 The Bonanza Band: or, Dread Don of Cool Clan.
374 Major Blister. the S ort of Two Cities.
365 Keen Kennard. the Shasta Shadow.
352 The Des erate Dozen.
347 Denver uke. the Man with “ Sand.‘
340 Cool Conrad. the Dakota Detective.
3% Flash Dan. the Nabob: or. Blades of Bowie Bar.
321 California Claude, the Lone Bandit.
291 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy.
941 The Shadow Sport from Frisco.
BY WILLIANI ll. l'lANNlNG.
931 Frisco Frank at Glory Gulch.
920 The Montana Miner in New Yoik.
906 The Doomsday-Den Detective.
699 The Double-Quick Detective.
893 Yellow Gid. of Dark Divide.
885 The Expert Dctective’s Shake-u p.
875 Trapglng the Race'l‘rack Judge.
864 The oiice Special’s Dilemma. ,
84l The. Geiiteei Siiarper's Combine
841 Graydon‘s Double Deal.
838 The Sport. Detectivc‘s Gilt}:
8'23 The Athlete Sport About own.
8% Tthrook-Detective‘s Pull.
790 Pliin er Pete. the Race Track Detective.
782 Roya Rock, the Roundup Detective.
774 Steve Starr. the Dock Deltc‘live.
764 The New York Sharp’s Sliadower,
738 Detective Clax ton. the Record Breaker.
714 Gabe Gail. the Gaiiibolier from Great Hump
70‘3 Spokane Saul. the Samaritan Susoect
692 Dead Shot Paul. the Deep-Range Exglorer.
656 Strawberry Sam. the Man with the irthmark.
646 Dark John, the Gilm Guard.
6'56 Murdock. the Dread Detective.
623 Dangerous Dave. the Never-Beaten Detective.
611 Aimii Abe the Game Cl icken from Texas.
596 Rustler Ruhe' the Round-Up Detective.
585 Dan Dixon’s ouble. .
57o Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives
563 Wyoming Zeke. tile Hotspiir of Honey suckle.
551 Garry .Kean the Man with Backbone.
539 Old Doubledark. the Wily Detective.
531 Saddle-Chief Kit. the Prairie Centaur.
521 Paradise Sam. the NON-West Pilot.
5131‘»an Tartar, the Man With Nine Lives.
506 Uncle Honest. the Peacemaker of Hornets” Nest.
498 Central Pacific Paul. the Mail Train Spy.
492 Border Bullet. the Prairie sharpshooter.
486 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detective.
479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack.
471) The Duke of Dakota.
463 Gold Gauntlet the Gulch Gladiator.
455 Yank Yellow bird. ihe Tali Hustler of the Hills.
449 Bluff Burke. King of the Rockies.
442 Wild West Wait. the Mountain Veteran.
437 Deep Duke: or. The Man of Two Lives.
427 The Rivals of Montana Mill
415 Hot Heart. the Detective, Spv.
405 Old Baldy the Brigadier of Buck Basin.
297 Colorado Rube. th- Strong Arm of Hots ur.

find

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H

279 The Gold Dragoon, or, California. 8100 bound.

1: V L EON LE‘VIS.

797 Pistol Tommv. the Miner Share.

785 l‘he Do ‘u East Detective in Nevada.

773 Buffalo Bill's Ban' or. Cody to the Rescue
699 The Cowboy Couriers.

666 The On-the-Wing Detectives.

624 The Submarine Detective: or, The Water Ghouls.

484 Captain Ready. the Red Ransomer.

491 The Silent Detective: or. The Bogus Nephew.
The Demon Steer.

428 The Flying Glim: or. The Island Lure.

 

A LBER'I‘ \V. AIKEN’S NOVELS.
Dick Talbot Series.

741 Dick Talbot‘s (‘lose Call.
7.‘ 7 Die. { Talbot in Apache Land.

‘. "3% Dick Talbot. the Ranch King.

1
729 Dick Talbot’s Clean-Out.

? 72.3 Dick Talbot in No Man‘s Camp.

354 Dick Talbot: 0i. The Brand of Crimson Cross
36 Dick Talbot; or. The Death-Shot 0f Shasta.

Aiken’s Fresh of Frisco Series.
825 Fresh, the Race-Track Sport.

660 The Fresh in Montana' or. Blake's Full Hand.
65?. Tue Fresh’s Rustle at Painted City.

3 617 The Fresh at Santa Fe; or, 'i h ' Strange Sh" rp-
5’36 Fresh. the, Sport: or. The Big Racket at S ide Out.

537 Fresh Against the Fie'd: 01‘, Blake. the Lion.

' 49’~ The Fresh in Texas; or The Escobedo Million ‘-.

461 The Fresh of Frisco on the Rio Graiide.
97 The Fresh in Big Walnut Camp; or. Bronze Jack

Alken’s Joe Plienlx Series.
944 Joe Pheiiix‘s Right Bower.

, 865 The Female Barber ill tectiv. ; or, Joe Phenix in

Silver City.

1 799 Joe. Pheuix‘s Great Blue Diaim nd Case: or, The

New York Sport at Long Branch. r

l 793 Joe Pheuix’s Decoy: or, The Man of Threey

' 760 Joe Pheiiix’s Lone Hand.

749 Joe Phi-nix‘s Big Bulge.

, 745 Joe Phenix’s Mad Case
. 708 Joe Phenix‘s Siren; or, The Woman Howl’s‘ riv

700 Joe Phenix's Unknown; or. Crushing the Crooks.
681 Joe Phenix‘s Specials; or. The ActreSs Detective
6'37 Joe Phenix in Crazy Camp.

632 J0e Phenix’s Master Search.

628 Joe Phenix‘s Combin ;( r,the Dandy Consp rator
620 Joe Phenix’s Silent Six.

= 601 Joe Phenix’s Shadow;or.the Detective‘s Monitor

419 Joe Phenix., the King of Detectives.

161 Joe Phenix‘s Great Man Hunt.

112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or. The League.
79 Joe Phenix. the Police Spy.

A lken’l Misc ellaneoun Novels.

910 (‘aptnin Jack. the Scalper

935) The hawks and Wolves of New York

932 Detective Gordon‘s Grip.

926 Old Sunflower, the Silent Sniiter.

92l Old Sunflower. the Hayseed Detective.

901 The Hotel Swell-Sharp; t r, The Siren Shadower.
892 The. Countryman Detective.

876 Gold Button S 11; or. 'I‘h - Miner Sharps.

842 Teton Tom. 1: e Half-l 110d.

835 The King-Pin Detective.

814 The New Yorker Anion? Texas Sports.

775 King Dandy, the Silver Spor‘.

75‘} Gideon’s Grigiat lfaiiylon l ar.

717 (‘aptaiii Pat cGowen, ti 0 G reencont Detective.
674 Uncle Suii Up, the Rom Detective.

670 The Lightweight Detective.

. 665 Tue Frisco Detective; or, The Golden Gate Find.

r

l
I
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I

613 Keen Billy. 1: Sport.

607 Old Benzine. he "Hard Case “ Detective.

594 Fire FaCe. the Silver King‘s Foe.

583 The Silver Sharp Detective.

577 Tom. of Calif ( mm; or, I)( tective’s Shadow Act-
570 The Actress Detective: or. The invisible Band.-
562 Lone Hand. the Shadow.

8‘1) The Lone Hand on the Ceddo.

490 The Lone Hand in Texas. '

475 Chin Chin. the Chinese Detective

465 The Actor Detective. _

440 The High Hor e of the Paulie. .

42’s The Lone Hand; or. The led River Recreaiits.
408 Doc Grip. the Vendetta of Death.

381 The Gy sy Gentien'nu: (r. hick Fox. Detective
376 Black Beards: 01. The Rio Graiide Hirh Horse
370 The Dusky Detective: or. I‘ursued to the E20.
363 Crowningshield. the Detective

320 The Genteel Spotter: or The N. Y. Night Hawk.
252 The Wail Street Blood; (r. The Telegra in Girl,
203 The Double Detective: tr.’l‘he Midnight ystery.

: 196 La Marmoset. the Leirclive Queen.

947 Cool Chris. the Crystal Sport.

l
l
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101 The Man from New York.
91 The Winning Oar: or. 'lhe lnnkeener’s Daughter-
84 Hunted Down: or, The League 0 Three.
81 The Human Tiger: 01'. A Heait of l‘ii‘P.
75 Gentleman George: or. Parlor. Prison and Street..
7'.‘ The Phantom Band: or. The 5th Avenue Heiress.
56 The Indian Mazeppa: or. Madman of the Plains..
49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kaiiawha een.
42 The California Detective: or. The Wire es of N.Y..
31 The New York Sharp: or. The Flash of Lightning.
27 The Spotter Detective: or. Girls of New York.

NEW ISSUES.

950 Buffalo Bill at Bay. By Col. P. lngrnham.

951 Detective Fleet. of London; or, Unmasking the
(‘onspirators By A P. Morris.

952 Verne Velvet. the Ventriloqnlst Sport.
E. Badger. Jr.

953 Dashing Charlie's Minute Men. By 001- Ingrnham

954 Joe Phenix in Chicago. By Albert w. Aiken,

JUST ISSUED.

By Jos.

916 Dashing Charlie‘s Dead-Shots: or, Black Horse

By Col. P. Ingraham.
By J. E. Badger.
h . Red-Gloved Detective; or. Crushing the Gold
948 Griibber Gang. By Wm. H. Manning.
9 The Doctor front Tl xas: or, Joe Phenix’s Shadow
94 Cine. By Alb rt W. Aiken. .
A new issue every Wednesday.

Beadle’n Dime Library is for sale iy all
Newsdealers. ten Cents per copy. or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS,
Publishers. 92 William Street, New York.

Bill‘s VOW.