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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1892. by Street & Snicth, vr the Office of the Librarian of Congress. Entered as Second-class
Matter at the New York, N. Y.. Post Office, March 21.1889. Issued Weeliy. Subscription Price, $5.00 Per Year January 7, 1893

0, 199, Srreet & SMITH, Publishers, NEW YORK. 31 Rose St., N.Y. P.O. Box 2734. 10 Cents
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THE SAN PRAMAS) DETECTIVE ;

THE COLERAINE TRAGEDY.

Tt

By Eugene ‘I . Sawyer.

CHAPTER I.
STRUCK DOWN IN DAYLIGHT.
“This is an inspiriting sight, Frank.”
eho Indeed itis, Mant. How I envy the
old boys.”

ue ‘‘Colonel Coleraine’s big, brave heart
THE ROOF GAVE WAY BENEATH THEM, P IPITATING TURELL AND MANTON, Will beat faster when his eyes shall

: -  MAYNE, PELL-MELL, INTO THE APARTMENT BELOW, rest on that approaching flag.”

4

 
THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY,

No, 199.

 

 

The speaker, standing in the vestibule of a large hotel

building, pointed toward an advancing column of. veter-
ans, whose color-bearer bore proudly aloft a battle-tat-
tered flag,.on which was inscribed “Stone River.”

It was in August. Place, San Francisco. Occasion, the

grand parade and most brilliant feature of the programme
arranged fur the reception of a distinguished general and
statesman, recently arrived from across the seas, who
had won undying renown in the civil war, and who had
afterward been the recipient of the highest civic honors.
_ Prominent in the procession, over five miles in length,
were the representatives of the different posts of the
Grand Army of the Republic, and a host of other sur-
vivors of the great conflict who had not yet joined that
organization.

Among them the California contingent of the Army of
the Tennessee.

“Where is the colonel?” asked the person addressed as
Frank.

“In his apartment above, probably anxiously awaiting
the coming of his old-time comrades-in-arms.”

The veterans of Stone River come nearer —are opposite
the hotel.

Now at one of the window balconies on the second story
appears an old man of tall, imposing figure, grizzled hair
and mustache, and deep-set eyes; on his noble counte-
‘nance an expression of mingled pride and enthusiasm.

Over his breast is pinned an empty sleeve—pinned by a
star with an eagle crest, in the center of which is deeply
engraven, “Stone River—Corps d’ Elite.”

He waves a small flag with the hand that Providence
has kindly spared him, and shouts, in clear, yet tremu-
lous accents, that cause a thrill to run through the vast
assemblage below.

“Welcome, comrades! There are few of us left, but we
may meet again. Old Glory forever !”

The soldiers look up, see the tall, majestic form, read
in the flashing glance that courage which never dies, see
the badge of honor, and then each hat is off in a twinkling,
and the cheers that go up cause the very ground to
tremble.

“Stone River—Corps d’Elite! Hurrah, hurrah!”

While these sounds were ringing in the ears of the
crowd, the two friends had forced a passage to the edge
of the sidewalk, so they might lock up at the balcony.

Colone! Coleraine, bowing, smiling, crying, and waving
his flag, waited until the column had turned a corner, and
then retired to his apartment.

As the two young men started to return to their original
coign of vantage in the vestibule, they became separated
in the crowd that surged along the sidewalk.

Manton Mayne at last reached the door-way, and in a
short time was rejoined by his friend, Frank Locumb.

The latter’s face was pale, and he was laboring under
considerable excitement.

“What's the matter?” asked his friend.
been engaged in a fight?”

“Ves: knocked down a fellow who shoved against me.
There he is.”

A man with a bloody face was approaching them, hav-
ing elbowed his way through the knot of spectators who
had been trying to keep him back.

“Let me get at him—the infernal dude. Tl teach him
to smack aman for’ nothing. Ifhe’ll only give me a
show, I’ll make mince meat out of. his high-toned carcass.”

‘Have you

 

dark-featured, good-looking, with a pleasant manner, and
a keen appreciation of the pleasures of life.

Their friendship dated from a certain night, two months
back, when Locumb had come to the assistane of Mayne,
as the latter was being assaulted by a quartet of desper-
adoes in the western addition.

‘Tell me, Mant,” said he of. the dark face, when a lull
in the noisy demonstrations permitted his voice to be
heard, ‘why does the colonel wear that badge, and in
such aconspicuous manner? There must be a history
connected with it.” :

“There js, and a most interesting one. There are not
many men alive who are thus honored. He who wears it
won it by dauntless deeds in the five long, bloody days,
when thegtreams ran red in Tennessee, and the field was
won by the soldiers of the Union, After the baitle, anq
while the air was yet filled with the smoke and smell ¢
powder, the general commanding established a legion o
the bravest men. He marshaled them all, and nameo
them in distinctive and imperishable honor, the ‘Corps
d’Elite ;’ and on each hero’s breast he pinned a star wit
the crest of an eagle.”

“ Are you thick with the colonel ?”

“T have the honor to be one of his friends.”

This was proudly said, for it was an honor to be counted
a friend of the popular millionaire and soldier-hero. S

“T know him only by reputation, but”—Locumb went
on, eagerly—‘“ I should like an introduction.”

“Now is a fine opportunity. He must be in excellent
humor. Come with me.”

The friends ascended the stairs, found Colonel Cole- ’
raine’s room, and Mayne knocked at the door, which was
partly open.

There was no response.

The young man was about to turn away under the im-
pression that the colonel had left the apartment, when a
low, muffled groan, succeeded by a pecular rattling
‘sound, saluted his ears. °

He looked at his companion, apprehensively, then
wheeled and unceremoniously opened the door.

The colonel was seated ina large, cushioned arm-chair
near the open window. ;

Mayne advanced with a pale face, Locumb slowly follow-
ing.
The old man’s head was bowed, and he did not look up
at the approach of his visitors.

When within a few feet of the motionless form, Manton

|| Mayne gave a start of horror and amazement, and then
this ejaculation burst from his lips:

“Murdered! Best of friends! Murdered !”

He sank on his knees beside the body, looked up at the
glassy eyes, while great sobs shook his stalwart frame.

Locumb, with an affrighted countenance, came nearer,

‘and then the full import of his friend’s words was re-

vealed to him. ao
The breast just above the empty sleeve and the badge
of honor was red with blood.

CHART HR or:
A BEAUTIFUL* MYSTERY.

 

Manton Mayne’s outward exhibition of grief was but,
momentary. ‘
He was made of stern material. and like a flash there |

The man was somewhat under the influence of liquor, | came to him a realization of the grave and weighty duty.
and when his eyes fell on Locumb, he’ made a rush for -he would be called upon to perform.

him.

He arose to his feet, and satisfying himself for once and

But Manton Mayne thrust him aside, anda score of, all that Colonel Coleraine was dead, requested Locumb to

Grand Army men hustled him out of sight.

inot

ify the hotel manager of the tragedy, and also tele-

The friends then resumed their conversation as if noth- | phone the chief of police.

ing had happened.
Mayne was about twenty-eight years of age, tall, buili
like an athlete, with closely cropped brown hair, smooth

face, earnest, truthful, searching eyes of gray, and a/se
handsome countenance, fvll of intelligence, nobility, and |

force.
A man not to be trifled with; one not easily deceived ;

‘a true friend; a bitter enemy.
- His companion, Locumb, was a young

“Meanwhile,” he continued, as his friend started for
‘the door, “I shall remain here.”
Alone with the dead man, Mayn
arching investigation.

The cause of death was manifest ata superficial exam-
| ination. he
| The clothing had been cut with a knife or dagger, and
the sharp instrument of death, driven with a strong, cruel —

e began a hurried but

man about town, hand, must have pierced the heart. : :

x
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aon
No. 199.

THE LOG CABIN

LIBRARY _ , ae

 

 

There were no signs ano a struggle about the apartment ;
no disarrangement of furniture or belongings any where.

The hero of Stone River must have been sitting in his
chair when the assassin dealt the deadly blow.

Not more than twenty minutes had intervened between
the return of the colonel, after the balcony incident, and
the entrance of Mayne and Locumb; and the murder must
have been committed within less than ten minutes before
the discovery was made.

Looking out upon the procession, Mayne, while talking
with his friend, had paid not the slightest attention to the
movements or appearance of the parties who had been
continually passing up and down the stairs.

At first blush, there appeared not the slightest clew to
the identity of the author of this monstrous deed of wick-

edness.

The look of perplexity that sat on the young © man’s
countenance, after he had revolved all these matters in
his mind, soon gave way to an expression of stern, un-
dying resolve.

He did not speak, but had he given utterance to the
thoughts and feelings that surged in his bosom, that

made his gray eyes flash and glitter, and his lips become |

compressed, they would have been these :

“In spite of seeming mystery, in spite of all obstacles,
I will find the murderer of my dear old friend, and bring
him to the gallows; and, until that work is accomplished,
no other object shall animate my life. So help me,
Heaven!”

While his eyes roved about the room in search of some-
thing tangible to rest a hope upon, there came the rust-
ling of silken garments behind him, and, turning quickly,
he found himself face to face with one of the loveliest
women he had ever encountered.

She was a brunette, tall, lithe, and willowy, with a
pure oval face, a cream-white complexion, large, dark,
lustrous, dazzling eyes, and a delicate mouth, teeth of
pearl, and a form of matchless symmetry and grace.

The proud movement of her exquisitely shaped head,
the elegant hauteur that accompanied her even in this
most trying situation, spoke of high birth and refinement.

She was richly and stylishly habited, her jewelry being
a becoming necklace of pearls, and bracelets of antique
design.

Just now there was a wild look in her beautiful eyes, a
slight color in her cheeks, and she was making desperate

- efforts to control her emotions.

“Ts he—dead?” came from her coral lips in low, trem-
mulous tones, vet as sweet and clear as a lute.

The young man looked at her in blank surprise. Startled
at first by the appearance of a stranger, and a woman,
struck by her beauty and the terror that was reflected in
her wonderful eyes, he yet did not lose command of him-
self, nor forget his duty to the dead.

“Yes, he is dead,” was the answer, rather coldly given ;
Sots” he added, “may I ask why you inferred that death
had overtaken him? Has any one informed you as to the
tragedy ?” :

His clear gray eyes explored her face, as s if to read what
was passing in her mind.

She bit her lip, looked confused, and hastily replied :

“ VYes—no—that is—why, sir,” bursting into tears. “I
am his ward; he was the only friend I had in the world.”

“His ward? I never heard——”

“No,” she interrupted, speaking rapidly, “for the

guardianship began but yesterday. I will tell you all, if
Cue

: She stopped, her composure returned, and she eazed at

him in a manner that was at once haughty and repellent.

“Will?” interrogated Mayne, with a look of suspicion
and wonderment.

“Who are you, sir, and by what right do you question
me ey

The answer did not come, for at this moment a police
officer and the coroner’s deputy entered the room.

The young lady gave Mayne a swift glance which he
eould not interpret, and then efleg. peacay from the

apartment.

He followed her to the door, and saw her enter a room
‘on the opposite side of the corridor.
After noting | the Se 1e returned to the pres-

ence of the dead, and in a few words told the officers oe
he knew regarding the tragedy.

But where was Locumb ?
visit from the hotel proprietor, or his clerk ?

friend to give the proper notifications.

was an ordinary specimen of his class.

“The chief.”

‘Did you see the messenger who infor med the chief?”

“Yes, if was Mr. Locumb.”

te Why did he not return with you ?”

“He said he had struck a clew, and, as. time was val-
uable, he intended to work it up.”

Mayne’ s fine face flushed with pleasure.

“He has got hold of something,” he muttered, “ ee I
shall soon know what it is.”

The coroner’s deputy made an examination of the body.

There was nothing in the dead man’s pockets but a
bunch of keys.

 

‘ried off by the muderrer.
“There is no romance in this case;” facetiously re-

for plunder. Ten. to one it is the work of some ‘old cun,’
who took advantage of the procession and the concentra-
tion of interest and attention to.make a haul.”

The young man did not answer. He was thinking of a
beautiful woman.

Before more words were spoken, Frank Locumb burst
into the room, breathless with excitement.

“Good news. my boy?” eagerly demanded his friend.

“Yes, I believe I have located the man.”

Then came the sound of a heavy fall outside the door.

stumbled over the prostrate form of the murdered man’s
ward.

CHAPTER III.
TRACED TO THE OPERA HOUSE.

The young man thought as he bent over the uncon-
scious girl:

“She has been listening, and she fainted, either from
joy or terror, at Locumb’s revelation.”

He raised her in his strong arms, when a 10 sigh es-
caped her.

As her head rested on his manly shoulder, she opened
her cyes, gave one wild, startled glance into his face, the
rich blood mantled her cheeks, and then her frame began
to shake, and she burst into a flood of tears.

Locumb, the policeman, and the coroner’s deputy, stood
in the door-way, and looked on in undisguised amazement
at this strange spectacle.

Suddenly, and without a word, the lady arose to her
feet, glared at the spectators of her distress, and started
across the corridor.

‘‘One moment. if you pléase,” said Mayne, with all the
suavity he could command.

She stopped, and looked at him imploringly..

He approached nearer, and whispered :

“T must see you alone and as soon as possible. You
recognize the necessity for an understanding, I hope?”

He spoke with grave insistence.

Her eyes dropped before his searching gaze, but she
thus replied, with assumed calmness:

“JT will be in the parlor in half an hour.”

Mayne bowed, and she swept into her own apartment,
and closed the door with a bang.

“Well,” inquired Locumb, with marked anxiety, “ what
does all this mean? Who is she?”

she must have been in the act of listening when you im-
parted the information that the assassin had been located.”
‘And that announcement startled her 2?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Locumb turned away and whistled.
“What is your opinion, Frank ?”

 

 

- he desired to ascertain if it would find corroboration i in.
the mind of a friend.

And why had there been no :
At least half an hour had elapsed since he had_ sent hig

“Who sent you here?” he asked the policeman, who

His watch, his purse, and his pocket-book had been car- |

marked the policeman, “only a plain, every- “day murder

Rushing out to ascertain the cause, Manton Mayne

“She says she is the ward of the murdered man, and

Some vague suspicion had entered Mayne’s head, and

a a a a a

 
      
    
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
   
   
 
  
 
    
      
  
       
    
      
      
      
        
         
     
      
 
      
    
    
  
       
  
 
 
    

 
 

 
    
  
 

 
  
 
    
        
         

4 | THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

“My opinion? Oh, Ihave none! You surely do not be-
lieve that she knows anything about this awful matter ?”

“T don’t know what to think. By the way”—-turning
to the police officer—“ who is to have charge of this case?”

“T don’t know. Iwas directed to come here, find out
what I could, and report. All the regular detectives are
out of the city after big game—the bank business, you
know.”

“Then tell the chief that I will call on him this after-
noon. Ihave something of importance to communicate.”

Locumb looked at his friend, as if to read his secret, if
he had any; but at that moment Mayne’s face was as is
scrutable as that of the sphinx.

A few moments later, the coroner arrived, and took
charge of the body.

The police officer departed, with the understanding that
‘the information Locumb possessed would be given to the
chief in time to bring about the arrest of the assassin.

“And now, Frank,” said Mayne, when the friends had
descended to the hotel reading-room, ‘‘tell me what you
have discovered, and who is the murderer @

“JT don’t know the man, but I think I have located him
all the same. When [ left, to carry out your instructions,
IT found the hotel manager gone, and the head clerk so
busy that even a murder had not power enough to drag
him away from his desk. ‘For Heaven’s sake,’ entreated
the fellow, ‘attend to this matter for me. Get the coroner
here, and the officers, and don’t make a rumpus, if you
can help it. Poor Colonel Coleraine! Dead! and he was
counting so much on seeing that military play at the
Grand Opera House to-night.’ I cutehim short, Mant, and

went to the telephone. The chief of police was not in, nor
were any of his officers—all out, taking in the procession,
and watching for pickpockets and peace disturbers. I
thought of coming back to you, but concluded to make a

|

  
 

No. 199.

had asked’ if the tickets—the tickets—were good for this
evening. On being curtly informed that they were, he de-
parted.” on

“ And from this you infer——

“That we will catch the murderer at the Grand Opera
House to-night in one of the seats reserved by Colonel
Coleraine.” é

“You have done well, Frank, and even if the result
shall prove unsatisfactory, my gratitude for the kind
and earnest interest you have taken in the affair, will re-_
main unshaken.

Locumb murmured something in reply, while a smile
of gratification hovered about his lips.

“And now, Frank, I must increase my obligation, by
asking you to make such arrangements with the chief of
police as shall lead to the capture of this man to-night. I
have some business to attend to, but will see you this
evening.”

The dark-featured young man departed, after shooting
a furtive glance at his friend, as the latter was about to
ascend the stairs.

“Going to see the ward. I wonder what’s up ?”

Pondering some weighty subject in his mind, he passed
down the street in the direction of the City Hall.

A man in a suit of Scotch tweed watched him from the
corner opposite.

“Tl lay for you some day, my fine fellow,” he hissed,
“and then we’ll see who’s champion,”

”

 

CHAPTER IV.
MAYNE’S DISCOMFITURE.

Manton Mayne entered the hotel parlor at the time ap-
pointed for his interview with the beautiful ward of his

 

bolt for the chief’s office myself, hoping to find some one
in when Larrived. Luck favored me. I saw the chief; he
telephoned for the coroner, and I started back.”

“But the clew? Where did you stumble on that? and
what is it?”

“ Possess your soul in patience,” was the imper turbable
rejoinder, “and I will tell you all Iknow. On my way

from the police office to the hotel, a brilliant thought |

The murder had doubtless been co mmitted

struck me.
old man had. theater

for the purpose of robbery. The

tickets in his pocket, and these would be taken, with the
‘Aha!’ thought I. ‘here isa chance for
will

likely attend the theater to-night, and occupy the seats

notes and cash.
some real detective work. The thief and murderer

engaged by Colonel Coleraine. e :

There was the suspicion of a sneer about Mayne’s lips,
as he said:

“The logic is poor.
make such a mistake as that.
his neck in the noose.”

Locumb evidenced no anger or
pointed remarks. He calmlv proceeded :

“You are the smarter in most
hava not yet completed your education.

betrayed the criminal into the hands of justice?
revsoned this way, from a comm)n sense standpoint :

'Qolonel Coleraine did not purchase season tickets, but for
are one thousand to one
with the
theater, knowing who paid for these particular seats.
Mreo, any stranger, having these tickets, with the reserve
attend the performance
without any one beingin a position to say that he did

this night only, the chances
against the ticket-seller or any one connected

couvons, in his possession, may

not vurchase the right of admittance himself.”
“There is something in that.”
His friend smiled, and coolly
offering one to Mayne,. went on with his narrative.
“Ty went to the theater to look after that one chance
and I found it.”
“You did?” in pleased surprise.
“Yes, asluck would have it, th
nearly every performance since the Grang

opened a week ago, and he had always chosen the same:

seats. More than that—and here we came to the kernel ing wn
my arrival, and street and the Grand Opera House. |

    

 

‘a man had called half an hour before

No sane robber or murderer would
Why, he would be putting

discomfiture at the

things, Mant, but you
Don’t you know
that the smallest things. the veriest trifles, have ofttimes

Now, I |
tf. Thechief knew him well, and when amember of the

 

murdered friend.

There was no one there, but in front of the lounge he
picked up a chain bracelet, the clasp, a crescent, formed
of a tiger's claw, gold-mounted, and a large opal. .
| Where had heseen one like it before? Ah! he remem-
bered. The opal, held in the tiger’s claw, had gleamed

from the wrist of the woman he was seeking, when she
had swept from the room where lay the body of Colonel
Coleraine. :

He put it in his pocket, intending to restore it to the
owner, when she should make her appearance.

Minutes, a half-hour, an hour passed, and still she did
not come.

Growing impatient, and with a strange suspicion tug-
ging at his heart, he at last rang the bell, and upon the
arrival of a comely little chamibermaid, asked if the occu-
pant of No. 17 was in her apartment.

an hour ago, saying she should not return until evening.”
He left the hctel to call upon the chief of police.
Manton Mayne had made up his mind to ask for the ex-
clusive management of the case.
He had been a newspaper reporter, then a detective,
and afterward, upon the receipt of a small fortune left
him by his mother, a speculator and mine operator.

detective force he had been rated as the keenest, most
daring and intelligent rogue-hunter on the Pacific coast.

A capital mimic, fertile in resources, courageous as @
lion, and a model of physical strength and activity, he
was admirably equipped for the duty of hunting down the
assassin of the man who had been his friend, adviser, and
benefactor.

The chief of police heard his statement, with the sup-
plemental request, and expressed his pleasure at his

 

lighting a cigar, after | former comrade’s desiring to enter the case.

“Weare short of detectives now,” he said; “but were

_ they all on hand. I would select you, Mant, just the same.

|So go ahead, and count on my assistance when you want
'i4. TI will attend to this Opera House matter, though I

e colonel/had attended |don’t think there is anything init. So long, and good |
Opera House luck to you.”

Near the hour of eight in the evening, Mayne was walk-

    

“]T think not,” was the answer, “for she went out over

slowly down O’Farrell street, making for Market

 

 

 

 
    

  
 

 

 

 

No, 199 or i

LOG ABIN LIBRARY. | iB

    

        

 

 

The young man stopped, and a note was thrust into his
hand.
It was light enough for him to read the following:

“Mr. Mayne—I have learned your name, and I believe you have in
your possession the bracelet which I carelessly dropped in the parlor
of the hotel. Will you please give it to the bearer. I will explain
everything some day, and to your entire satisfaction. Allow me to
give you some sensible advice. Gono further in your attempt to
fathom the mystery surrounding the death of Colonel Coleraine, for
every step you may take will imperil the safety of one you dearly
love. Your friend, CorRINNE Dayton.”

The young man mechanically took the bracelet from
his pocket, but before he could hand it to the boy, he re-

-ceived a crushing blow on. the head, and he fell forward

on his face, bereft of sense and feeling.

CHAPTER V.
CAUGHT AT THE OPERA HOUSE.

The military play at the Grand Opera House, on the
evening of the tragedy, attracted the largest audience of
the season.

The curtain had risen on the first act of the “Guard of
Honor,” when a plainly dressed person entered the Opera
House, gave up a ticket at the door, and was ushered into
one of the seats reserved for Color el Coleraine.

Frank Locumb, who stood with the chief of police and
one of his subordinates in a corner of the lobby, glanced
at the man when he took his seat, and then turned’as pale
as death.

He recognized the individual as the one he had as-
saulted in front of the hotel, not ten minutes after Colonel
Coleraine had passed from the balcony into his apartment.

The chief noticed the young man’s agitation.

“Your man has arrived. Do you know him 2?”

“T have seen him before,” and then he told the story of
the sidewalk fracas.

“Could he have committed the murder? Did he have
sufficient time?”

“Yes, if he was expeditious.”

: Then he is our venison, beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

At the end of the act, the chief’s subordinate, who

was in citizen’s clothes, walked down the aisle to where
the “suspect” was sitting, touched him lightly on the
shoulder, and whispered a few words in his ear.

The man, who stil) wore his suit of Scotch tweed, fol-
lowed the officer out, with a white face and a sinking
heart.

At the door the twain were met by the chief of police ;
and the prisoner, handeuffed then and there, was put into
a close carriage, and driven to the county jail,

Frank Locumb rode outside with the driver.

Arrived at the jail, the supposed murderer was taken
into the office and searched.

Upon his person was found a gold watch, with the fol-
lowing inscription on the inner side of the case: ‘“ Pre-
sented to Colonel Gerard Coleraine hy the members of
—— Post, G. A. R., as a token of respect and esteem for
him as a man and as a soldier.”

W.ahen this tell-tale evidence of guilt was held up, after
inspection, Frank Locumb started violently and upon his
face rested an expression of intense amazement. This
was immediately succeeded by a look of deep exultation.

“Chief,” he exclaimed, “we have made a ten-strike. I
thought we had the fellow, but I did not suppose he would
be fool enough to carry the criminating evidence on his
person.’

The prisoner glanced atthe speaker, his brow grew
black as night, and his eyes shone savagely.

“So you are the Injun who laid this trap for me?”

“Veg, sir, Iam proud to say, Iam the man.”

“Then don’t hang around San Francisco when I get
out of this,” he hissed, “for I will kill you as sure as
fate.”

Locumb ees slightly at. thes man’s words, but made

~ noreply.

“Now, sir,” said the chief. of. police, sternly, “I want
to ask you a few questions. You can answer them or not,

   

When opposite a narrow, as ae a bos fouchied ae 1as you may see fit; butif you are innocent, you nee
on the arin,

 

 

  

 

 

   

have no fear of — ‘speaking the truth, and telling all you
know about this murder.”

“Murder !”

The word was gasped forth, and the prisoner’s face as
sumed a livid hue.

“Yes, murder. Come, no shamming. If you did no
kill the colonel, who did ?”

The man in Scotch tweed trembled like an aspen. Then
he broke down, and began to cry like a chlid.

‘‘Come, come, this is nonsense. I have seen the orying
act done before. Are you going to open up, or not?”

“Chief,” cried the prisoner, as the tears rolled down hi
cheeks, “T never killed a man in my life.”

Then who killed Colonel Coleraine? Do you know ? ”

There was a moment’s hesitation. Then came the an
swer, slowly and deliberately :

“T think I know the party. I am not sure, but I think I
can spot him—that is, if it was a man.”

“TIfit wasaman! Why, of course,-it was a man.”

“Yes, I think so; but still, it may have been a woman.”

“ How do you know ?”

The chief spoke with threatening emphasis.

wat decline to answer until I have consulted with my
attorney.”

And not another word could they get out of him, excep
the revelation of his name and residence—‘ James Flatt,
Bangor, Me.”

A further search of his person brought forth a smal
sum of money, but no other valuables that could be ide
tified as the property of the murdered man.

A charge of murder was booked against him, and he
was placed in the ‘‘strong box,” to await his examination.

When the iron door was slammed in his face, Flatt sat
on the bunk, and slowly stroked his stubby beard.

“The woman, I reckon,” he said to himself, after a
pause. “Too bad! too bad! for she’s a stunner !”

 
   
 
   

         

  
 
  

   
      
      

   
   
   
 
 

  
 
        
       
       
  

   
 
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
    
  
   
   
   
  
    
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
  

6 CHAPTER VI.
A MYSTIFIED DETECTIVE.

When Manton Mayne recovered consciousness he found
himself lying on a lounge in a handsomely furnished
apartment.

It was daylight, and in the distance could be heard the
rattle of wheels and the movement of street-cars.

Where was he, and what had happened ?

His brain was still somewhat confused, and consider-
able time elapsed before he could get his mental apparatus —
into proper working order.

At last the recollection of his O’Farrell street adven
ture or mishap came back to him. 2

He felt his head, and found that, barring a fair-sized
lump, he was as good as new.

He made up his miud, from the absence of any lacera-
tion, that his assailant must have used a sand-bag.

Next he explored his pockets for the bracelet and the
note.

Both were gone.

While endeavoring to arrive at a satisfactory solution —
of what seemed an impenetrable mystery Corinne Dayton
entered the room. :

“T did not intend to disturb you,” she began, in accents
that thrilled him strangely, unimpressionable as he had
hitherto been, “when I ascertained this morning that you
were in no danger. : But on mature reflection I made up
my mind not to allow you to depart until you had learned
how you came to be brought here.

“T am deeply grateful for - -your condescension, # be
replied,

Miss Dayton composedly seated herself and calmly pro-
ceeded, her soulful eyes meeting his with an expression
he had never seen assumed by the guilty in heart.

‘“T owe you an apology and an explanation,” she contin-
ued ; ‘‘but first I will speak of what happened last night.
I inferred that you had found my bracelet, and, chancing
to see you walking down O’Farrell street, J went into a
drug store, hurriedly wrote a note and gave it to an errand
boy to deliver.”

Mayne felt like asking, ‘ ‘Why did you ‘not av eoet me
yourself? 2” but wey held his tongue. :

 

   
  

   
     
      
      
      
 
  

  
   
 

     
  

   
 

  
      
  

  

    
  

   

  
   

THE LOG

   

CABIN LIBRARY.

 

No. 199.

 

Divining his thought his fair visitor said :

ay at some time explain. I waited in the drug store.
ew ue eee when the boy came running back

bP

“And where am I? In some hotel?”
“No, you are in a private lodging-house at the Mission
olores.”
Manton Mayne raised himself on his elbow and regarded
ler with an expression of mingled doubt and amazement.
“At the Mission! Three miles from the city,” he ejacu-
ated, “and why has this strange move been taken?”
at did not know your lodging-place, I feared to take
rou to the hotel where I am staying, and so I was obliged
o have you conveyed to this house.”
“Did you fear for my safety?” —
He gave her a singular look as he asked this question.
“Yes”’—regarding him steadily and somewhat _ re-
yroachfully—“ for had you been taken to the hotel some-
hing might have happened that would have caused you
he greatest pain and sorrow.”
“TY confess I do not understand you,” was Mayne’s sharp
ejoinder. “I do not wish to do you any injustice, but you
must admit that the very peculiar circumstances that
ave thus far mark2d our short acquaintance warrant a
‘urther explanation from your lips. You must pardon
“me for my seeming rudeness, but Colonel Coleraine was
my friend, and I am resolved that his murderer shall be
rought to justice.”

Miss Dayton’s face paled as she listened, and there was
agitation in her mellifluous voice as she replied :

_ “He was also my friend, but there are reasons why I

‘cannot aid you in your attempt to solve the mystery at-
tending his death.” -

“Madam,” said Mayne, with more ae than he
had yet ‘manifested, “this farce has proceeded far
enough.”

She turned on him with flashing orbs, her symmetrical
figure drawn to its full height, and spoke. in tones so
charged with scorn and reproach as made him regret the
words he had used.

_ “Then you shall know the truth. Come with me at once
to the hotel.”

_ She was dressed for a walk, and Manton Mayne had
only to put on his hat to be ready for her.

Without another word being spoken they left the room.
In the corridor near the head of the stairs an oldish
woman who appeared to be the proprietress of the estab-
lishment accosted Miss Dayton hurriedly in these words:
“A gentleman below, miss, who wants to see you on
most important business.”

The young lady appeared to be both surprised»and an-
noyed at this announcement, but with a gracious smile
she turned to Mayne and asked him to excuse her fora
moment.

Then she went down the stairs, and opened the street
oor.

_ The detective instinct caused the young man to follow
her.

As he reached the open door he saw her enter a coupe.
Before he could say a word or take any action the
‘driiver mounted the box and drove rapidly off.

er walked swiftly after the vehicle, looking around
at the same time for some sort of conveyance with which
to follow.

But none were in sight.
_ He saw the driver turn into Valencia street, headed for
the. city.

“Perhaps she is on her way to the hotel,” he thought.
“At any rate I will defer my judgment until I have ascer-
tained.”

He waited until a street car came along, and half an.
hour. later was in the hotel where the tragedv had oc-
urred.

=

  

  
   
 

I did not care:to meet you just then, for reasons which |.

 

He called an hour later. She had not returned.

-At night she was still absent.

“ Have I been hoodwinked?” he muttered. “It looks like
it. Very well, Miss Dayton, it’s a long lane that has no

turning, and the str uggle to reach the end has just com-

menced.
country.”

His first move was to hunt up a disguise. Cunning must
be met with cunning. He wasa marked man in propria
persona, and henceforth he must guard himself against
sudden surprises.

The inquest had been set for the following day.

,Manton Mayne would have been intensely surprised
could he have had an inkling of the startling develop-
ments the morrow would bring forth.

CHAPTER VII.
A DAY OF SURPRISES,

The inquest was conducted in the room where the mur-
der had been committed.

After the cause of death had been shown by the surgeon
who had made the autopsy, and the fact made apparent
that the assassin must have stood behind his victim when
the fatal thrust was given, and that the instrument of
death was a double-edged knife or dagger, most probably
the latter, Manton Mayne was called upon to give his
testimony. °

He concealed nothing, but spoke of the finding of the
body, and the appearance in the room of the beautiful
woman, who called herself the ward of Colonel Cole-
raine, and whcm he knew as Corinne Dayton.

Frank Locumb told his story clearly and succinctly,
and that portion relating to the arrest of James Flatt, at
the Grand Opera House, was corroborated by the chief of
police.

At this point one of the jurors asked if Miss Dayton had
been subpoenaed.

“A subpoena was issued,” replied the coroner, “but the
young lady cannot be found. She has mysteriously disap-
peared.”

The testimony of the next witness created a sensation.

He was George Benton, a mine owner from Grass Val-
ley, middle-aged, prepossessing in appearance, and with
a reputation as areliable and experienced mining man
that was not confined to the county in which he lived.

In fact he was well and favorably known in San Fran-

I’ll get to the bottom of this affair, or leave the

|ecisco, and the statement he made furnished the motive

for the assassination.

For several weeks past, he said, negotiations had been
pending between himself and Colonel Coleraine, looking
to the sale of the witness’ gold mine near Grass Valley.
Two days prior to the murder the terms had been agreed
upon, and a few hours before the discovery of the crime
the papers had been signed, and $50,000, the purchase
price, paid over in bank notes, of $50 each, to the colonel.

“He was loth to receive the money,” Mr. Benton went

, ‘for the reason that the banks had closed for the day
in honor of the military procession, and the reception
tendered to a famous soldier; but upon my representation
that urgent business would call me away in the morning
he consented to become its custodian. I left him about
half an hour before the procession started... The news of
his awful death of course made me postpone my de-
parture.”

It was on Manton Mayne’s lips to ask a question; but
he forbore out of motives of prudence. When the inquest
was over, however, he sought and found Mr. Benton, and
inquired if he had taken the number of the notes.

“Yes.” was the answer, “they run from 1114 to 2113.”

The detective noted the figures in his book, and then
secured a promise from the mine owner that he would
keep the matter a secret for the present.

But to return to the inquest.

The chief of police. recalled, testified that the only
property found on the person of James Flatt was a gold
watch and a few dollars in silver.

Not a single attache of the hotel could be found is had
‘seen any person going into or coming from the colonel’s

nqu ry showed that Loe Gene had not Dae driven room for an hour preceding the finding of his dead body. :

They had all been 1 the pro ession

 

 
       
      
 

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PS

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iNo. 199. .

 

Although the unaccountable absence of Corinne Dayton
was regarded as a suspicious circumstance still there was '
nothing to connect her with the murder.

It had been proved by the manager of the hotel that she
had arrived the day before, accompanied by Colonel
Coleraine, and that he had spoken of her as his ward, ,
whose father had recently died in Nevada City.

George Benton was recalled. :

‘‘Nevada City is but a short distance from Grass Val-
ley, is it not?” interrogated a juryman. |

“ Yes.” \

“Are vou acquainted in Nevada City ?”

“TIT know nearly every person of standing in the place.”

“Do you know Corinne Dayton ?”

“T have known her for three years, ever since her re-
turn from an Eastern seminary.”

Manton Mayne listened with the greatest interest.

“Was her father in his life-time possessed* of any
means ?”

“He died a bankrupt—without a dollar in the world.” |

“Do you know why Colonel Coleraine was selected as
her guardian ?”

“Because Paul Dayton was the colonel’s former partner
and the friend of a life-time.”

The witness was excused, and the jury, after a short
deliberation, returned a verdict to the effect that Colonel
Gerard Coleraine had met his death at the hands of one
James Flatt, and that the fatal wound had been inflicted
with murderous intent, for the purpose of robbery.

It was shortly after the conversation with Mr. Benton in
reference to the bank notes that Mayne, who had parted

1

|

~with Locumb, in order that the latter might fill an engage-

ment, again encountered the mine owner in the hotel office.

‘‘There’s one thing that puzzles me,” he remarked to the
detective, “and that is the non-appearance of Sidney
Turell.”

‘Who is he?”

‘The colonel’s step-son.”

“ Ah, yes, I remember that the colonel once spoke of
him.”

“Well, he is a hard case, and was sent adrift by the old
gentleman several years ago.”

“Do you know him ?”

“Very well; he passes a great deal of his time at Grass
Valley.”

Mayne was now all attention. The subject interested
him greatly. He felt that a new and important element
was about to be introduced into the case.

‘‘Can you describe him?” he asked.

“Yes. He is about your height, has reddish hair and
mustache, dresses well, and is passably good-looking.
But he is a gambler and a scoundrel.”

“Why did you expect his presence at the inquest?”

“Natural curiosity, if nothing more, ought to have at-
tracted him. Besides he isa friend of Corinne Dayton.”

A friend of Corinne Davton! This rascal a friend of this ,
lovely and refined young lady! |

Thus thought the detective. Butallat once his brow:
clouded.

“Why not?” he said to himself. “If she is wicked and.
false, why should she not mate with a rascal ?”

“You seem struck all of a heap,” ventured Mr. Benton. |
“Do you know the lady ?” |

}
i
i
\

“T have met her,” was the answer, shortly given.

“T have heard that she is engaged to be married to the.
fellow,” pursued the mine owner, “but I can scarcely :
credit the report. Irespect the lady as much as I despise
the man.” Aged

“When did you see Turell last?” abruptly inquired the
detective.

“I will wager a ten-dollar piece that I saw him last
evening.”

“‘In San Francisco ?”

ce Yes. 99 i

“Where?”

“On O’Farrell street.”

 

‘THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

ther grand one night, and IJ irrigated a few times at you
expense.” \ :

    

  

   

. CHAPTER VIII.
A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER. a :
Manton Mayne was intensely astonished at the reve.
tions made by Geonge Benton. Hee
If Sidney Turell, this graceless step-son of Colonel
raine, was on O’Farrell street the evening before, 1
might he not have been connected with the sand-bag
sault, and the robbery of Miss Dayton’s note and bracel
He was lost in troubled thought for a few momen:
Then he again turned to the mine owner, who-was plac

    

  

 
     
     
  

 
 

      
    
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
  
    
  
   
      
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
    
  
    
  
  
   
    
   
    
 
   
    
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
   
 
   
  
   
    
  
 

sinoking a cigar. ° ae

“Was Turell in Grass Valley on any day during
past week ?” he asked.

“Let me think. Yes”—after a pause—“I am sure Is
him the day the colonel’s agent made the agreement wi
me regarding the sale of the mine.” :

“Then he might have learned of the terms—ha1
known, in fact, that you purposed coming to San Fra
cisco to pay Colonel Coleraine fifty thousand dollars?”

“Possibly, but not probably. But then if he had ma
the discovery how could he know that I intended to p
over the money on the grand parade and reception-da
when all the banks would be closed ?” i

“Still, he followed you to San Francisco,” persisted t
detective, who disliked to have cold water thrown on
new theory that had entered his brain. :

“Or came of his own accord. He travels, backward and
forward, a great deal’ But you don’t suspect Turell
the murder, I hope? Why, man, he has not gumpti
enough for such a deed.”

“It requires no gumption or courage to stab an old mar
from behind his back,” was the cold response.

“Well, I hardly think Sidney didit. Still, this is
queer world. Go ahead with the case; work it up, and
will know by the papers when you have caught yo
man.” x

They parted, Mr. Benton to prepare for his return thi
afternoon to Grass Valley, Manton Mayne to strike the
trail of the disreputable step-son. .

It was shortiy after sundown when a stylishly dresse
young man, with reddish hair and mustache, restless li
blue eyes, and a dissipated look, while walking alér
Jackson street, in a disreputable locality, ran plum
against a roughly dressed old man, with a gray beard an
straggling gray hair, who, from his appearance, mighi
have been either a miner or a rancher.

“TI beg your parding, mister,” apologized the old on
as if he were to blame, “but I was lookin’ at that thar
picter in the winder, and didn’t see you.”

“That’s all right,” was the surly rejoinder, “but b
more careful in future.” ee

“Say,” said the old man, as a pleased smile illuminated
his rugged features, “you oughter know me—old Abe
Perkins ?” ca

A sharp scrutiny, and then the reply :

“You are mistaken. I don’t know you.” a

“Well, thet’s your misfortin’. I’ve seen you manya
time, old hoss.” ae

“Seen me? Where?”

There were suspicion and ugliness in the pale blue eye

“In Grass Valley. I have been workin’ for a long time
in the Benton mine.” ei

The person addressed came nearer, looked puzzled, and
then said, after a pause:

“If you are working in the Benton mine what are y
doing here?” ae

‘Takin’ in ther sights, seein’ the off side of ther ele
phant, peelin’ ther moss off my back. Ther mine shu
down a few days ago on account of ther sale.”

‘Has Benton sold out?”

“IT reckon he has, old son.”

‘Who is the purchaser ?”

“Give itup. Never inquired, and don’t keer.”

The old man talked and acted as if he were sli
‘“how-come-you-so,” as the saying is.

‘And you have seen me in Grass Valley ?” :

“Sure. The last time ’bout a month. You wuz doi

 
   
 
    
      
   
 
   

 
  
  

   
  
 

ghtl

   
  

   

    

The red-haired young man’s brow cleared. If he

    

  
     

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THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

, No. 199.

 

 

 

 

ntertained any suspicions they had been dispelled by the
iiner’s words. ;

He had “done the grand” a great many times in Grass
alley.

‘Suppose we irrigate now,” he said.’ '
“You've called the turn on me. Lead the way, for I’m
with you.” :

They went into a long, narrow, dingy saloon, and after
each had poured down a scant supply of the vile liquor
which the place afforded, the red-haired young man, who
as doubtless been recognized by the reader as Sidney
urell, felt in his pockets for the change.

‘He scowled at not finding any, and then drew a fifty-dol-
bank-note from his vest-pocket.

*Can you change this bill?” he asked.

The old miner gave a quick glance at it, and the muscles
f his face twitched, and a low grunt of satisfaction
scaped him, for the note was numbered 1121.

‘At last,” he gleefully thought, “I have the murderer.”
‘The barkeeper looked at the note, and shook his head.
Manton Mayne, alias Abe Perkins, spoke up instantly,
th a brave attempt to maintain his composure.
‘Gimme the paper, pard; I’ll change it.”

-Turell was about to return the note to his pocket, but
inking better of it laid it on the counter in front of the
etective.

“Hedoes not suspect that the numbers were taken,”
thought Mayne, as he fished out the change from a
‘eapacious wallet; “but he won’t rest in ignorance very

ong.” °
After he had placed the criminating evidence in his
wallet, and put the wallet back in his pocket, he said:

- “Now, my young huckleberry, come along ‘ith ther oid
man and see ther show.”

' “Much obliged,” was the curt reply, “but I have busi-
ess to attend to.”

“Whar air you goin’ ter meander ?”

_ Glancing at a poker game in progress at the rear of the
bar-room he responded :

_“] think I shall hang up here tor a while.”

_ The detective saw that he could not get him out by mild
‘measures. His manner suddenly changed.

“That's where you make your mistake, Sidney Turell.
You will go with me,” and the next instant he had his
uarry by the throat.

There ensued a fierce struggle, but Mayne was getting
| the upper hand, when the barkeeper and the ‘‘tin-horn”
gamblers interfered.

“A detective!” was the savage cry. “Lay him out—salt
Phin !”

Mayne heard, and releasing his hold on Turell fora
moment struck right and left with sledge-hammer blows.
- Down went every man who felt the force of his power-
«ful arm.

When he saw the way was clear he started after Turell,
who was slinking away toward the back door, and en-
circling him by the waist, carried him bodily to the rear.

The door was kicked open, and they stood upon a nar-
row platform, overlooking several flat-roofed wooden
structures occupied by the Chinese.

Here Turell put forth all his strength, and giving the
detective a vicious kick released himself and sprang like
a deer upon the roof of the nearest building.

The detective, without pausing to consider, intent only
on arresting a murderer, sprang after him. ;

' They both landed near the center of the roof, which was
old and rotten, and their combined weight caused it to
break and precipitate them pell-meJl into a small apart-
ment ten feet below. | Va
Half a dozen persons, who had _ been reclining in differ-
ent positions upon the floor, sprang up, wild-eyed, as the
strange descent was made.

But Mayne stopped not an instant to take in his sur-
roundivgs. . : :
Dealing Turell a powerful blow he saw him fall oe a
log. Bs
As he stooped over .the prostrate rascal, handcuffs in
nd, a chair came down on his head, and blows were

  

  

  

  

 
 

  
   
  

  

 
 

 
 

  

  

   

 
 
 

: CHAPTER IX.
A STARTLING REVELATION.

Rendered temporarily unconscious by the sudden and
violent attack made upon him when in the act of placing
the darbies on Sidney Turell, Mayne was surprised, when
he opened his eyes, to find that he was in some under-
ground apartment or cellar.

His wig and whiskers had been removed, which fact
told him that his identity had probably been discovered.
A.dim light through the one grated window enabled
him, after he had with difficulty risen to his feet—for he
was very sore from the beating he had received—to form
a correct opinion regarding his quarters.

The irdn door, the brizk walls, the iron staples, and the
chains, all told him that he was an occupant of a Chinese
prison.

Mayne was not astonished, though he was vexed be-
yond measure, when he made the discovery that his wal-
let, containing the fifty-dollar note and all his money,
was missing.

the man he was seeking to arrest.

He walked up and down, looking here, there, every-
where for something that might offer a means of escape.
At last he turned his eyes to the ceiling, some eight
feet from the floor.

In the center he saw something which made his pulse
beat faster and sent a ray of hope into his brain.

A door, which might be like the ordinary trap, or which
opened upward.

Tf of the latter design he might escape.

1t was closed, but a table showed him how to reach it.
Placing it under the door he mounted, and found to his
joy that he could touch it, and still have forceful play for
his hands.

An upward shove with all his might, and the door
opened.
His athletic practice now came in good play, and he
soon landed safely in the upper apartment.

As he had conjectured, it was on the ground floor, and
to his delight was ungccupied.

The door was open, and Mayne, hurrying through it,
found himself in a narrow corridor, through which a faint
light penetrated.

Moving forward cautiously his attention was soon at-
tracted by the sound of voices issuing from a room on
one side.

Mayne listened a moment, and then a blush of shame
and indignation suffused his honest countenance.

He had recognized the voices. One was a man’s, Sidrey
Turell’s: the other a woman’s, that of a woman he had
not yet condemned, the woman with the dazzling eyes
and the look of innocence—Corinne Dayton.

What was she doing in this vile hole?) And what rela-
tion did she bear to Sidney Turell, the murderer of
Colonel Coleraine ?

Mayne thought of George Benton’s revelations, and
steeling his heart again utilized the keyhole.

Turell was now speaking.

“T have not deceived you,” testily. “The man is here.”

“ You haven’t harmed him?” was the anxious inquiry of
Miss Dayton.

“No, but I ought to have killed him. How was I to
know that he would spot the bill?”

“T have it now, so it need not trouble you any more.”

“He may turn his attention to you next.”

“T will prevent him.”

66 How a ;

“That is my business. He will not trouble me after to-
day.”

‘Do you think you can silence him ?”

**T know I can.” :

‘lo say that the detective was amazed at this language
would but feebly express the state of his feelings.

“Sha is a cold-blooded monster,” he thought, ‘‘and once
IT have her in my power I will show her no mercy.”

“Do you want to go to him now?” Turell asked.

 

rained on him thick and fast, until he knew no more.

_ “Yes, I have done my part; now.do yours. You are
safe. I will look out for what is to come.”

 

      
    
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
  
 
   
 
  
 
  
 

He had fallen into a den of thieves, friends, probably, of

 

 

    
   
 
 
    
     
   
    
 
    
    
   
     
    
   
 
 
    
   
   
    
    
      
   
   
   
   
   
       
      
        
       
     
   

  

  
 
 
 
     
       

  

 

 

 

 
     

- prison-room, take a large key from his pocket, turn the

‘ loose from her clinging arms.

 

 

= = THE LOG CABIN LIBRA

   

RY.

 

 

There was a movement as if they were about to leave
the room.

The detective retreated to the room he had last left, and
partially closed the door.

Sidney Turell and Corinne Dayton passed his hiding-
place, came to a flight of stairs beyond, and slowly de-
scended to the basement.

Mayne cautiously followed them.

He saw Turell pause in front of the iron door of the

lock and enter.

Corinne Dayton followed. :

The detective crouched behind the door.

Suddenly Turell uttered an angry exclamation.

“He has escaped us. Look there!”

‘Our hero showed himself in the door-way.

“Yes, he has escaped. Look here!”

The conspirators turned, Corinne shrieked, but Turell
gave utterance to a horrible oath, and made a dash for
liberty.

But he never passed through the door, for Mayne shot
forth his right with such force as to cause the villain to
measure his length on the hard floor.

The next instant Corinne Dayton threw her arms about
the detective, while her voice, in wild entreaty, rang out:

“Don’t hurt him—escape, Sidney—quick, quick !”

Manton Mayne was not disposed to be rough with this
woman, even though he entertained the harshest opinion
eoncerning her. Still he used sufficient force to break

 

But by this time Turell had made himself searce.

The detective started after him, and had one foot on the
lowest stair, when the colonel’s lovely ward again threw
her arms around his waist.

He felt like striking her to the ground; like treating
her as he would treat the brute in whose escape she had
just assisted ; but as he turned and met her tearful glance,
saw the look of agonized entreaty on her beautiful face,
his hands fell by his side and he gave a groan of despair.

“Tt is too late now; he is out of the building by this
time,” he muttered. “But I will make amends by paying
my attention to his accomplice. Besides she has the bank-
note.”

As if to put the finishing touches on the brave man’s
discomfiture, Corinne Dayton, suddenly removing her fair
arms from about his person, took the bank-note from her
bosom, deliberately tore it in pieces, and threw them out of
an open window near which she was standing, where they
were caught by the wind and scattered beyond recovery.

The detective was too much amazed to make a move to
prevent her. ;

He stood and glared at her for one brief moment. Then
placing his hand upon her arm he sternly uttered :

“You are my prisoner !”

CHAPTER X.
CORINNE DAYTON’S VICTORY.

The surprise of Corinne, when Manton Mayne said :
“You are my prisoner,” was evident in every feature.
She staggered and would have fallen but for the detec-
tive’s supporting arm.

“No, no,” she gasped, “you can’t mean that. I—I am
not guilty.”

“Then why did you assist in the escape of Sidney
Turell? Why did you destroy the bank-note? You have
been chary in your explanations thus far, Miss Dayton,
and IT amin no mood to show you any consideration, un-
less you can throw some favorable light upon your
strange conduct.”

“Do you want to know why I saved Sidney Turell?”
she asked, as she placed her hand on his arm and gazed
with imploring earnestness into his face.

“No tell the truth—yes.”

“Because, to my everlasting shame and disgrace be it |
said, he is my husband.” ay

“Your husband! He, that man, that scoundrel, your |
husband 2?” |

“Yes, it is too true.”

 

_ “Then I understand.”

x E

  

The words yorelenelen slowly, but they were meant to
convey a world of meaning. f i

Just the shadow of a smile flitted across the lovely fa
of Corinne.

“Tam afraid you do not understand,” she said; “bi
perhaps I can enlighten you. I was married secretly t

   
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
  
  
  
   
    
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
 
    
 
    
      
    
    
  

Sidney Turell one year ago. We parted one hour after
the ceremony, and ever since I have been to him a wi
only in name.” Bo

“Thank Heaven for that.”

“T left him,” she went on more rapidly, as if shed
sired to finish the narrative in the shortest possible time,
“ because I discovered almost as soon as we were man and
wife, that instead of the honest gentleman I had supposed
him to be, he was aconsummate scoundrel. I ‘will not tell
you what was revealed to me, but suffice it to say that
the disclosures were such that all the wealth of the Indies
could not have induced me to live with him as his wife.’

“Then why have you associated with him since?” a

“Because I am a poor, weak woman, a coward. By
money I kept the fact of our marriage a secret from the
world, and since then I have supported this husband of
mine, furnishing him the money to continue his evil
courses, on condition that he kept himself aloof from me
and never breathed a word of our relationship.”

“Why have you *hade me your confidant?” oa

“ Because I can trust you; because I want you to think
as well of me as you can.”

The detective gave a sigh of intense relief.

But soon a thought obtruded itself, which brought his
old suspicions to the foreground. os

“Thus far,” he said, “your story is a consistent one. A
few questions, and Iam done. First, have you recovered
your bracelet ?”

“No,” in surprise.

“Have you ever asked your husband about it?”

“Certainly not,” disdainfully.

“Perhaps he is the thief ?”

“Very likely,” with a shrug, “he is capable of any:
thing.”

“But what have you to say about the bank-note ?”

“Ah, yes; I can explain that episode. Sidney Turell
came to me this evening for money. He pretendea tha
he was in sore need of it, because a detective had stolen a
fifty-dollar bill from him. When I demanded an explana.
tion, he said he supposed the bill was a counterfeit, al-
though he had received it as genuine. I then asked wha
had become of the detective—for something led me to su
pect that you were the man—and he informed me that he
was a prisoner in Chinatown. a

“T promised to give him the money, if he would accom
pany me to the place and release his victim He consented,
and I went with him to this awful locality. I did not rel
ish the undertaking, I assure you, but I would not trus
his word, and there was no one to whom T could appea
for aid. On the way he told me, shamefacedly, that he
hai deceived me: that he had recovered the bank-note. I
induced him to give it to me, and—you know the rest.”

“Vou came here to rescue me?”

‘“‘T came here to rescue you.” ;

Not as officer and prisoner, but as two friends, this
strangely circumstanced pair left the building. :

Thev met with no interference, and Mayne escorted
Miss Dayton in safety to the hotel.

He little thought, when he sought his couch that night,
of the strange and terrible complications which the future
held in store .

  

  
  

   

  

  
      
   
   

  

 
    
   
  
   
   
     

  
    
   
  

   
     
     

 
        
         
      
    
    
     
          

CHAPTER XI.

A BLIGHTED HEART.

  

  

It is time the reader understood the nature of the rela:
tions that had existed between Manton Mayne and the
murdered man.

  

  

metropolitan journalism, that Colonel Coleraine, the Cali
fornia millionaire, had met and fallen in love with hi:
only sister, Adelia, a charming blonde, full of spirit an
gayety. : a

  

    
 
 
 
     

 
   
 

——
> Anengagement had followed, and young Mayne had
arrived at home a few hours before the time set for the
wedding.

But instead of entering a joyous household, he was con-
fronted with terrible tidings.

The ceremony would never be performed.
The bridegroom had left for California, and his mother
and sister had gone to Florida.

While in a state of utter distraction over the outcome
of what, promised to be a season of happiness, he received
4 letter from his mother, which stated that owing to cir-
cumstances which cast no discredit on Colonel Coleraine,
the marriage had been indefinitely postponed; that
_ Adelia had taken the affair so much to heart that a change
| of scene had become necessary. She was now in better
| spirits, and would soon be_ her old self again. The letter
| further stated that the visit would probably be protracted
- several months, on account of the salubrity of the climate,
| and the fact that an old friend of the family, a wealthy
planter, had been met, at whose mansion they were then
| staying.

r Manton Mayne, not quite satisfied, returned to New
- York. A few weeks later he departed for California, hav-
' ing received a most advantageous offer from the pro-
| prietor of one of the San Francisco daalies.
| twas at a military reception one evening, not long
- after his arrival, that he met and was introduced to Col-
‘onel Coleraine.
~ The hero of Stone River was attracted both by the name
and the young man’s manly bearing.
| Mayne was anxious for an explanation, and atter the
| short conversation that followed the introduction—which
- gerved to reveal the young man’s relationship to the col-
- onel’s late fiancee—an invitation was cordially extended
_ to call on the veteran at his hotel.
' It is needless to say that there was a joyful acceptance,
and that Manton Mayne was promptly on hand at the ap-
» pointed hour.
) Then and there was the mystery surrounding the Phil-
» adelphia affair fully explained.

A few years after the close of the civil war the colonel

had married a widow with one son. After two years of
| unhappiness, caused by the extravagance and shameless
| conduct of the wife, there had been a legal separation,
|. but no divorce.
Less than a year subsequent, the step-son, Sidney Turell,
had called upon the colonel, stated that his mother was
dead and appealed to his step-father for protection and
‘maintenance. °

The old soldier, in the goodness and simplicity of his
heart, never questioned the truth of the information
‘Turell had given him, but made the young man a liberal
allowance, and gave him every chance. to win an honor-
‘able position in the world.

_ Buthis kind offices were thrown away. Turell was a
“gambler, with no moral sense, and at last his wild esca-
“pades culminated in the forgery of his benefactor’s name

  

  

10 THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY. ue

taken up her residence with a wealthy maiden aunt near
the Quaker City.

Her brother’s motives in desiring to run to earth the
murderer of his friend and counselor—his second father—
will now be readily appreciated.

On awaking in the morning after the queer adventure
in the Chinese quarters, he comprehensively reviewed
the situation.

He dressed himself, and at eleven o’clock, the hour set
for the reading of the will, was in the parlor of the hotel.

Edward Burnham, of the law firm of Blake & Burn-
ham, was there, together with a number of the late mil-
lionaire’s personal friends.

Corinne Dayton made her appearance just as the lawyer
was becoming impatient.

She was followed a moment later by Frank Locumb.

Mr. Burnham adjusted his glasses, drew the will from
a large envelope, and commenced to read it. f

It was constructed in the usual form, and after the cus-
tomary preamble, the lawyer came to the principal pro-
vision, which read as follows:

“After the payment of all my just debts and liabilities,
the expenses of my funeral, and the erection of a suitable
monument over my grave, I give and bequeath the sum
of one dollar to my step-son, Sidney Turell, and, if he will
take my advice, he will devote the money to the purchase
of some good book, which may teach him the first prin-
ciples of morality; all the rest and residue of my prop-
erty, real, personal, and mixed, of whatever character
and description, to be divided between my beloved ward,
Corinne Dayton, and my early esveemed friend, Adelia
Mayne of Philadelphia, share and share alike ;.and I nom-
inate my esteemed friend, Manton Mayne, as executor to
serve without bonds.”

Then followed the signatures of the witnesses.

“There will be no contest,” observed Mr. Burnham,
‘“‘for Sidney Turell is not an heir-at-law, and has no claim
whatever upon any portion of the estate.”

The person most affected by the reading was Corinne
Dayton.

There was nota particle of color in her face when the
lawyer ceased, and the detective, who was sitting near
her, heard her mutter :

“This is a terrible retribution—terrible.”

He looked at her keenly as the words unconsciously fell
from her lips, but she did not notice him.

Her eyes, wild in their expression, were fixed on
vacancy.

At the next speech of the attorney she gave a start, and
crimson blushes dyed her face and temples.

 

“T congratulate you, Miss Dayton,” he said, “upon your

good fortune. The estate is valued at over one million
dollars.”

She tried to speak, but the words would nut come ; and,
unable to control her emotions, with trembling lips and
tearful eyes, she hurriedly left the room.

Frank Locumb whispered to Mayne:

“Strange that she should take her windfall in this way,
isn’t it?”

 

to a check for a large amount of money.

The colonel paid the check, refused to prosecute, and
’ told his conscienceless step-son never to” darken his doors
again.

(  ~=6Time passed. The colonel went East on business, met
“Adelia Mayne, and won her consent to become his wife.
One week before the day appointed for the nuptials, his
wife, long believed to be dead, appeared in Philadelphia,

accompanied by her son.

Colonel Coleraine never recovered from the blow thus
given to his hopes.

As for the grief and despair of the young girl to whom
he was engaged, it can better be imagined than described.

Returning to California, after a terrible scene with the
» woman who had been his curse, he sought relief and for-
_getfulness by plunging deep into business.
Manton Mayne heard the story, and his heart became
‘filled with deepest commiseration for the man who had
guffered so cruelly.
He attached himself to the colonel by bands of sym-
- pathy and interest, and their friendship bore good fruit.
After the death of her mother, which occurred a few
months before the opening of this tale, Adelia Mayne had

“Very strange,” was the reply.
“By the way—who is the other legatee? Any relation
of yours?” a

“My sister.”
“You don’t meanit! Then Jet me congratulate you,
old boy !”

As the detective and his friend left the room, Miss Day-
ton, standing in the door-way of her own apartment,
beckoned to the former.

He obeyed the summons, though his heart was sad.

“T promised to give you an interview to-day,” she fal-
tering said. ‘“ Will you excuse me, and call to-morrow ?
J—I am not strong enough to talk to you to-day, or any-
body else.”

“Very well,” constrainedly replied the detective. ay
will wait until to-morrow.”

He had reason, afterward, to regret the postponement.

The affair was about to assume another strange, phase.

 

 
    
    
   
   
 

 

     
     
    
   
    
   
    
   
    
       
     
  
     
      
      
     
      
          
  
       
     
     
      
   
   
        
    
   
      
         
      
    
 
   
   
   
   
      
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
    
   
 
    

 

 

 

 
  
 

 

 

janine ee ee ee nS Ee :

 

 

 

No. 199.

 

CHAPTER XII.
IS SHE THE MURDERESS ?

When Manton Mayne left Corinne Dayton, he found
Frank Locumb awaiting him in the vestibule.

To his friend the detective related the strange happen-
ings of the past twenty-four hours.

“Did. you see the man who struck you on O’Farrell
street?” he was asked.

“No. If Ihad seen him, I would not have been sur-
prised.”

“It must have been this Turell, or one of his tools. y

“T think so.”

“There is one singular thing about this matter, Mant,
and that is the caution contained in the note from Miss
Dayton, handed you on the street by the errand boy.
She writes that every step you may take in this hunt
after the assassin will imperil the safety of one you love.
What does that mean?” and Locumb bestowed a curious
look upon his companion.

“TI confess that puzzles me. But it may be a blind.”

They parted shortly afterward, and the detective, with
certain vague notions in his head, proceeded to the county
jail.

He intended to interview James Flatt, the man accused

of the murder of Colonel Coleraine, and whom the general |

public looked upon as guilty.

The jailer, who had received his instructions, permitted
him to see the prisoner alone in his cell.

Flatt scowled when the detective entered.

He recognized him as the companion of the man who
had assaulted him in front of the hotel.

‘Are you a newspaper reporter ?”

cc No. 99

‘*A detective ?”

"Yo!

“Then,” with a surly grunt, “you may as well vamose,

for I’m not blabbing anything to-day.”

Mayne had had experience with men of his stripe before,
and was not discouraged.

He took a seat and handed Flatt a cigar.

The prisoner was not one who would “bite off his nose
to spite his face.”

He accepted the cigar, lighted a match, and began to

smoke. -
Some philosophers assert that tobacco warms. the heart

and thaws the tongue.
“You have no objection to telling me your name, have
ou ? 97?

me No. James Flatt”—puff.
‘Manton Mayne.”
“Mayne?”

“ What’s your’n?” | oo

Flatt removed his cigar, and looked searchingly at his.

inquisitor.

‘*Yes, Mayne. Ever heard the name before?”

“T knew a man once as was called Alfred Mayne.”

“You did ?”—with great interest. “Where did he live?”

‘‘Philadelphia.”

‘‘He was my father.”

‘“You don’t mean it!”

And the prisoner was on his feet, his countenance _ be-
traying the keenest pleasure.

“Yes, Tr mean it. He died seven years ago.
only son.’

a Geek Mayne saved my life once, young man; and if,
you’re his son, and like your father, you may ask me any |
questions you please.”

Flatt was affected almost to tears, hardened criminal
though he was.

The detective was not slow to take advantage of the
opportunity thus offered.

“T have always lived an honorable life,” he said, with
manly sincerity, “and whatever you may choose to tell
me, in so far as it affects vour position, will be kept as
secret as the grave, until you shall give me permission to
speak. I never break my word.”

James Flatt measured the young man with his eyes.
Then he held out his hand.

“*) believe you,” he said.

x

I am his

“And what do you want?”

  

Bay

THE LOG CARIN LIBRARY. a en

_ ing from the little pocket in his patns.

  

 
  

  

ie Below I ask a single question, I desire to say to
that I do not believe you either connived at or committed
this murder, of which you are accused.”
“Tam obliged to you, sir, but you have spoken Heave 7
I am innocent.” .
“T will tell you frankly,” pursued the detective, for Be
now believed he had gauged his man, “that I am seekin
to discover the party who did kill Colonel Coleraine.

 
     
  

  

 
 
   
 
  
  
    
    
    
     
  
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
     
   
   
   
    
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
    
  
  
  
    
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
     
   
   

‘“*T see’ _nodding approvingly.
“And as I intimated before, whatever shall tend to
criminate yourself in other matters” —looking at him
keenly—“ will be kept a secret.” :
“T understand,” was Flatt’s reply. “I am not afraid o!
aman with your face, sir, especially when heis the son
of Alfred Mayne. Iam ready. Pitch in.”
“You were at the hotel—on the forenoon of the murder ?”

a was. 9

“And you went into the colonel’s room ?”

66 Yes. ”

‘Now, tell me all that happened there, everythin in
fact, that will be likely to throw any light on this mys
tery, Don’t spare yourself. You have my promise, as a
man of honor, to guard your confession.”

The prisoner then commenced his story, and, from hi
manner, the detective felt convinced that he was speaking —
the truth.
| “T came here from the East on the train that carried a
big delegation of Grand Army chaps to meet General ——.
I knew there would be a big blowout, and I thought there —
might be a chance for a haul. On the morning of the pro
cession, I knew the game was made. The rooms in the.
big buildings would be deserted, and everybody would be >
watching the parade. I determined to getin my first
work at the —— Hotel. I went up the stairs, turned into
the first room I came to, and found an old man asleep in >
a chair.”

“Asleep ?” e

“Well, he might have been in a fainting fit, for his faee
was pale, and there was a clammy sweat on his forehead.”

“ Might he not have been dead ?” :

“No, for he was breathing.”

‘No blood on his clothes ?”

“ce No. > bh}

‘Are you sure of this?”

“Ags gureas I live. Well, I sneaked up, and the first
thing my peepers got onto was the fob tohis watch, hang-
I drew the ticker
out, stowed it away and was about to work his clothes,
when I heard a noise outside. Thinks I ‘some one is‘
coming.’ So I flitted.”

“Did you see any one outside?” asked the detective,
with intense eagerness.

“Yes; just as I reached the head of the stairs, a woman
,crossed the corridor, and entered the room I had just ~
left.”

‘“ A woman ?”

Mayne was trembling with excitement.

He felt that he was on the verge of a terrible discovery.

“Yes, a woman!”

“Did she notiée you?”

“T don’t think she did. She was gazing ae ahead,
and her face was of the color of ashes.”

“How did she look? Can you describe her ?”

“T didn’t notice her dress, but I saw her face plainly.
She was dark, with big, staring eyes, and as pretty as a
picture.”

‘‘Anything else?”

‘“Yes. As she was about to pass in the door, she raised
i her hand, and I saw that she wore a heavy chain bracelet.”

“The clasp a tiger’s claw and an opal ?”

“Couldn’t sav. I didn’t notice the clasp.”

But the description was enough. Tt was Corinne Dayton :
bevond the shadow of a doubt.

Manton Mayne breathed heavily. The narrative had
most unpleasantly affected him. -

He had hoped that suspicion would be turned in another ~
direction. ;

Alas! his faith in womankind had received a severe
blow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

  

    
       
  

  

   
 

  
     
     
  
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
 
 
 
 
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
    
  
  
 
   
   
   
   
    
     

   

CHAPTER XIII.
THE MYSTERY DEEPENING.

 
 

But James Flatt’s narrative was not yet finished.
“A short time afterward,” he continued, “while I was
standing on the sidewalk, I accidentally nudged a man in
the ribs, or he shoved his ribs against my elbow, I don’t
know which. Anyhow, he let out with his right duke
and flattened me on the sidewalk.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Tf that fellow is a friend of yours he mustn’t get in
my way when I waltz out,” was the savage outburst.
“Let that go, Flatt. It doesn’t interest me. I want to
ask you a few questions.”
“Tam willing to answer them. Drive ahead.” .-
“This woman with the bracelet—which arm did she
show, the right or the left?”
‘The left.”
“ And you did not see her right arm or hand ?”
Sere) No. ” °
“Now, Flatt, where did you obtain the theater tickets?”
“1m blessed if there isn’t something strange about that
affair. I picked them up on Dupont street. They were
n an envelope.”
‘Picked them up! Who dropped them ?”
“Don’t know; the party you are aiming to corral, I
reckon.”
Manton was lost in thought for a few moments. Then
he said:
“ How long after the sidewalk assault did you find the
tickets?”
“ About half an hour.”
“Couldn’t it have been later ?”
“No; more likely it was not so long.”
Here was a new complication.
_ If Corinne Dayton had committed the murder, and not
Sidney Turell, she could not have dropped the tickets on
Dupont street, for, in all probability, she was at the ——
Hotel for over an hour after the finding of the dead body,
and the discovery of the murder had been made within
less than fifteen minutes after its commission.
‘‘Where were you just before you found the tickets?”
| asked Mayne, who was anxious to obtain more conclusive
evidence if possible.
== “In a saloon.”
“ Were there any other parties in the place?”
“Yes, but I can’t remember their faces. I was there but
a minute, but as I was going out a man that I had seen
before about town came in.”
“Describe him ?”
“Fe had reddish hair and a mustache, and looked like
a Tar Flat dude.”

 

Ee ohusband.”

_ “Whose husband? The woman’s?”

“Yes,” mysteriously, “some woman’s.”

- Manton Mayne, with new food for thought, left the jail
shortly afterward. :

His mind was nearly made up on the proposition. that
Sidney Turell was the murderer, and that Corinne Day-
ton, willingly or unwillingly, was his accomplice.

On reaching his room in a retired part of the city—for
he wanted to devote a short time toward the preparation
of certain plans—he found a letter and a package await-
ing him.

_ The letter bore the city stamp, and read as follows:
Manton Mayne, Esq, :

‘Dear Srr:—If you will call on me at your earliest convenience I
will show you something that will throw new light on the murder com-
mitted at Hotel the other day. I went to the chief of police,

and he referred me to you as having full charge of the case.
: “W. B. Dorxrne, 197

The package, a small one, that had come through

_ Wells, Fargo & Co.’s expréss, was found to contain a
chain bracelet, the clasp a tiger’s claw, and an opal.

No note of explanation accompanied it.
Tt was Corinne Davton’s, and the one that had been

stolen from him on O’Farrell street.

- Why had it been returned ?

 

street.”

 

 

“THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

“Sidney Turell !” was the surprised exclamation. “ Her

The mystery was deepening. ;

But it was useless to speculate, and half an hour later
he was in conversation with Mr. Dorking.

That gentleman had, indeed, discovered most important
evidence, and when the detective left the place he had
not the slightest douba as to the identity of the assassin.

CHAPTER XIV.
CAUGHT IN A TRAP.

Half an hour before the detective called upon Mr. Dork-
ing a messenger of the District Telegraph Company rapped
at the door of room 17 in the —— Hotel.

Corinne Dayton appeared in 1esponse, and received an
envelope containing a message that perplexed her deeply.

“No answer,” she said to the boy, and then returned to
her room.

The message was the following:

‘Miss Daytron:—Five minutes hence I will be on my way to the San
Jose depot, on business that will compel my absence from the city for
several days. The bracelet, which was stolen from me the other even-
ing, has been returned. I have not time to deliver it in person, but
leave it with my landlady at —— Broadway, together with a package
that should be in your hands before night. Hoping that you will get
them in time, I am, your obedient servant, Manton Mayne.”

After some moments spent in deep reflection the young
lady attired herself for the journey.

A hack was found in front of the hotel and the driver,
having received his instructions, started up for the desig-
nated locality.

No. —— Broadway was found to be a dilapidated three-
story building, not far from the water front. ”

‘‘Rather a queer place for a gentleman to reside,”
thought the lady. ‘But then these detectives are peculiar
people, and perhaps he has reasons for staying in sucha
neighborhood.”

No suspicion of deception entered her mind.

The driver waited while she went up the steps and rang
the bell.

A slatternly woman of middle age, with greenish gray
eyes.and a decided mustache, opened the door.

‘Mr. Mayne,” began Miss Dayton, rather undecidedly,
“does he live here ?”

“Yes, mum; you must be the person he spoke to me
about. Walk in, while I get the things.”

The colonel’s heiress, somewhat against her inclination,
was ushered into a musty, furnitureless room.

The blinds of the room were drawn, and she could
scarcely see about her.

While waiting for the woman to return—she did not sit
down, because there were no chairs—a door opposite to
her was opened, and two masked men sprang upon her.

She tried to scream, but a rough hand placed over her
mouth effectually drowned her cries.

But little consideration was shown her, though she was
a woman, and young and beautiful.

Forced brutally upon the floor, a large handkerchief,
folded, was drawn across her mouth and tied tightly be-
hind her ears.

She ceased to struggle when she became convinced that
present efforts to escape would be futile.

Meanwhile the driver of the hack had been informed by
the slatternly woman that the young lady would remain
until evening, and return by another conveyance.

Shortly after nightfall another carriage drove up to the
house, and something enveloped in a blanket was borne
down the steps by two men and deposited in the vehicle.

In alone dwelling far out of the city toward Bernal
Heights Corinne Dayton found herself, near midnight,
after she had recovered from the swoon which the inhu-
man treatment she had received had thrown her into.

She was a prisoner in a room securely locked, and she
had not the slightest idea as to the identity of her
enemies. ;

There was a bed in the room, and, utterly exhausted by

the ordeal she had undergone, Corinne, without disrobing,
sank upon it, and, despite her desperate situation, was
soon in the land of dreams. . a

 

|. Day was just breaking when she arose, with a haggard
face, and began an inspection of the premises. _

 

 

 

 

 
       
       
     
      
  
 
  
    
   
  
  
  

 

 

 

  
 

        
 

   

me to go in peace.”

the strange spectacle of a lovely woman trying to free

to San Francisco.”

 

 

BIN LIBRARY 13

 

She found she was in the second story, and that the
one window in the apartment overlooked a deep gully.

She could hear the swish of waves in the near distance,
which told her that her prison was not tar from the bay
or ocean, probably the former.

About seven o’zlock steps were heard ascending the
stairs. :

Corinne Dayton, who. had been sitting by the window,
at once sprang to her feet with an expression of stern de-
termination on her beautiful face.

Her eyes flashed in deadly earnestness.

Her blood was up, and she meant to seize the first op-
portunity of escape, using any means that lay within her
power. ;

Snatching a glass water-pitcher from the small table, she
stepped behind the door, just as it was opened by a short,
thickset man of forbidding aspect.

He had barely time to give one astonished glance about
the room when the pitcher, thrown with all the young
lady’s force, struck him full in the face.

It was shivered in pieces.

He reeled from the terrible blow, but before he could
recover his senses Corinne had passed through the door
and closed and locked it.

Without stopping a moment, her heart in her mouth
and her face on fire, she hurried down the stairs, past a
woman in the kitchen, who stared at her in open-eyed
amazement, and soon found herself in the road that led
to the main thoroughfare connecting with San Francisco.

She ran with all her speed, for she knew that the man
who had been assaulted would soon be in hot pursuit.

But on turning a corner, not a hundred yards from the
house, she came plump against Sidney Turell.

The shock of the collision nearly threw him off his bal-
ance, but before Corinne could continue her flight he had
caught her by the arm.

Panting with exertion, and with rage and contempt in
her heart, she gave her husband this pointed salutation:

She needed no second invitation, but allowed the kind- o
‘hearted hackman to assist her into the vehicle.
| The horses had just started when the man from the
house, his face covered with blood, came up to Turell
puffing and blowing. ae

. You are not going to allow that tigress to escape, are
ee os rhe es Ce ;

*Can’t help myself. ou don’t suppose I want
filled full of holes, do you?” a

“ You can have a dose of the same medicine, too, young ~
feller, if vou want it,” sang out the driver, as he flour-
ished his pistol.

But no demonstration was made by the villainous
twain, and the hack with its lovely freight proceeded
safely up the hill, and along a deep ravine, to Baden.

In front of the hotel the driver pulled up his horses just
as a dark-featured gentleman, in faultless attire, steppéd
on the veranda.

“Tam all ready.” he said.

It was Frank Locumb.

CHAPTER XV.»
MANTON MAYNE TO THE RESCUE.

As Frank Locumb, the friend of Manton Mayne, spoke
to the hack driver his eyes fell on the occupant of the
vehicle,,and an expression difficult to analyze crept into
his face.

“ What does this mean?” he thought.

Then he stepped forward with a pleasant smile, and
touching his hat said, in his politest manner:

“Miss Dayton, I believe.”

“Yes,” she replied, looking at him intently, for she had
not yet recognized him.
| “I saw you at the —— Hotel.
company with Manton Mayne.”
Her expression instantly changed. She beamed on him,

 

Iwas there twice in

“So you are the author of this indignity! You are the, her luminous, soulful eyes glistening with pleasure.

wretch who is responsible for last night’s shameful
cruelty! You are the thief who stole my bracelet, and
forged the name of a man whose boots you are unworthy
to black! Let me pass, for your touch is contaminating.”

She flung off his hand with an imperious gesture, but he
again caught her, this time more firmly.

“T cannot let you go,” he harshly
looking out for your safety.” :

“Mv safety! And how does that concern you?”

She regarded him with proud disdain.

“Well,” he blurted out, with brutal frankness, “if you
get into trouble my allowance will be shut off. I am
looking out for number one.”

“You always did, Sidney Turell, and one of these days,
if you don’t take care, your course of life will bring you
to the gallows. But I prefer to be the judge and regulator
of my own actions. I should think,” she continued, ina
tone of bitter reproach, “that after the terrible sacrifices
I have made for your precious. benefit, you might allow

‘replied. “Iam

“T ean’t argue with you,” he responded, for he sawa
man issue from the house where Corinne had begn con-
fined, “but vou must go back all the same.”

“JT will not. You shall kill me first.”

‘She struggled to free herself from his hold, and while
thus engaged a hack drove rapidly up from the direction
of San Francisco.

The driver reined up his horses, when his eyes fell upon

herself from the grasp of a ruffian, and calling out sternly,
“Say, let her g0, young fellow, or I’ll get down and bore
a hole into you,” drew a revolver and jumped to the
ground, f

Turell released his hold instantly.

He had no desire just then to give the coroner a job.

“Oh, sir,” implored Corinne, “I am grateful, deeply
grateful for your generous interference. Please take me

“Can’t do it, miss, just now, because I’ve got to pick

‘‘T remember. Iam glad to meet you.
to San Francisco ?”

“Such is my interition.
came darker.

*T am the victim of circumstances.
driver’s pleasure to return to the city.”

Locumb drew a breath of relief.

“Then we shall be compagnons de voyage,” and he
stepped quickly into the hack and took a seat opposite
her.

The driver whipped up his horses and was off.

Coming up the road was a covered wagon with three-
men on the seat, one of whom pointed to the approaching
hack, and then gesticulated violently to his companions.

A moment later the wagon stopped on one side of the
thoroughfare, and the three men leaped to the groud.

A premonition of coming danger caused a slight pallor
to overspread Corinne’s oval face.

“Are you armed?” she nervously whispered to her
companion.

“Yes”—in surprise— what is the matter ?”

“Tam afraid,” she responded. ‘‘that my enemiés are in
advance, and mean to attack the hack.”

Locumb arose to his feet with celerity, and looked out
of the window. :

What he saw brought a strange light into his dark eyes.

“T believe you are right,” he said, quietly, and without
a trace of fear, “but you may count on my assistance.
They shall not take you unless they walk over my dead
body.”

She thanked him with an eloquent look.

A few rods brought the hack to the covered wagon.

Another suspicious movement had been made.

The men had separated. i

Two stood on opposite sides of the road, while the third |
remained by the wagon.

As the hack drove up the latter individual made a
spring, grasped the bridles of the horses, and brought ..
them to a stand-still.

Are you going
And you?” as his dark face be-

I only wait the

 

upd a gent at Baden, a few miles out. Butif you want to
get in and ride there I will drive you back in the course
-of an hour.”

One of the other two pointed a pistol at the head of the
driver, while the third, who was Sidney Turell, sprang
toward the door.

  
     

   

  
 

  
  
1

THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

% es
No.1¢3.

 

 

He saw Frank Locumb for the first time, gave ere
toa yell of surprise, and retreated.
But on the instant there was the report of a pistol, and
he staggered backward, with his hands to his face.
Throwing open the door Locumb leaped out, and seiz-
ing the villainous husband of Corinne Dayton bore him to
the ground.
- The driver, who had his revolver on the seat beside
him, was ready for the emergency, and disregarding the
argument of the pointed pistol he flung his own weapon,

when Locumb fired, into the ruffian’s face, then jumped to}

the ground, and grappled with him before the fellow
could recover from his astonishment.

As for Corinne, she seized the opportunity presented by
the temporary discomfiture of two of the assailants to
open the door on Locumb’s side, and step quickly out.

As she did so Manton Mayne’s friend, who still had
Turell by the throat, cried out, earnestly :

“Make arun forit. I will be with you presently.”

She took his advice, and dashing by the villain who
stood in front of the horses, sped down the road with deer-

like rapidity.

The fellow, as she passed him, released his hold on the).

bridles, and started after her.

Corinne heard him coming, but the sight of a lone pedes-
trian walking rapidly up the hill at some distance ahead
of her gave her courage.

“Help! help!” she cried, hoping to attract his attention
and make him hasten his footsteps.

The appeal was heeded.

The man started on a run to reach her.

At the same moment Locumb, aroused by the cry, left
his prey, and hurried down the hill in Corinne’s direction.

Her pursuer also took his cue about the same time, and
leaving the road started over the side of the hill toward

_the bay, running with all his might.

Sidney Turell, on his feet once more, and apparently not
much the worse for the encounter, took in the situation at
a glance, and at once followed his comrade.

Locumb reached the fleeing woman, just as she had
grasped the arm of the lone pedestrian.

He stopped in marked astonishment.

“Just in time!” he panted; “for, between us, we have
routed them.”

The man he addressed was Manton Mayne.

CHAPTER XVI.
A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

Mr. Dorking was a photographer, and his studio was in
the second story of a building opposite the hotel where the
Coleraine tragedy had occurred.

_. Manton Mayne called early in the afternoon in answer
to the note which promised important developments in the

ease to which he was devoting all his energies, and was
- courteously received by a small, delicately framed gentle- |

man, whose countenance denoted intelligence and honesty.

He ushered the detective into his private office, and
then closed and locked the door.

“TI have some idea of the duties and responsibilities of
men of your profession,” he said, smilingly, in answer to
Mayne’s look of inquiry, “‘and it is proper, I think, that
our interview should be a secret one.’

In breathless attention thé detective awaited the dis-
closure.

“Ag you will see, if you will take the trouble to look
out of this window, my studio, which overlooks the street,
is directly opposite the —— Hotel.”

“Yes,” and Mayne began to havea faint ee of what |

was coming.
“On the forenoon of the procession I took pdveeal views

up and down the street. of the soldiers, the arches, the

“spectators, and the decorations. I 1emember perfectly
when Colonel Coleraine stood in the balcony, and was
cheered by the Stone River veterans. It was shortly after
that, fifteen or twenty minutes, I won’t be sure of the
time, that I prepared to photograph the front of the hotel,
which, as you will remember, was decorated in a lavish
and artistic manner.’

‘Yes, yes, I remember it all.

Go on,” the detective

excitedly exclaimed, as he followed what promised to be
a most interesting narrative.

“My plates were ready, the camera was in position,
and—I ‘let her go.’ The window of Colonel Coleraine’s
room was raised at the time, and the interior was in full
view.”

“And you saw ?”

“No, I did not see anything. I had no cause to look in
any particular direction at that time, and I Suppo I was
gazing at the apparatus.”

“Well, what next?”

“T made a good picture. Would you like to see it?”

Mr. Dorking appeared to enjoy Mayne’s emotion, for
his eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he took from the
drawer of a table a photograph, cabinet size, and handed
it to the young man.

The detective took it with trembling hands, gazed at it
searchingly, got up, walked to the window, looked at it
again, this time Jong and earnestly.

“Well, what do you see?”

“T can see the interior | of the colonel’s room, and the
faint outline of his form

He gave a sigh of intense disappointment.

“You may have had a bead on the murder, but it.
doesn’t show up.’

“Tf I had gazed only at the print I might have over-
looked something myself,” was the quiet observation.
“But, you see, 1 had the negative first to deal with, and
what I saw there told me the truth.”

“What did you see?”

wel answer the photographer produced a magnifying
glass.

“Take this,” he said,
observe.”

The detective, with the glass at a proper focus, gazed at
the diminutive presentment of that portion of the room
nearest the window with what seemed to be the eyes of
fate.

There was no mistake this time as to the result of the
photographer’s work.

Manton ‘Mayne saw all he wished to see.

The colonel’s chair, it will be remembered, was near
the open window, and thus, with its occupant, un account
of the favorable light, was in a fair position to be photo-
grahed.

There sat the old man with his head bowed on his
breast, while above him was an arm, the hand of which
held a dagger, and the dagger was buried in the aged vic-
tim’s breast.

The person of the assassin could not be seen, as it was
on a line with the side frame of the window.

One more look, deep, searching, intense.

“ At last! at last!” was his cry, “but, oh, how forbs | me

“and then tell me what you

 

For upon the arm which grasped the dagger was a
bracelet, and the clasp turned toward the window dis-
closed a tiger’s claw.

At that moment Manton Mayne was forced to believe
that in Corinne Dayton he had found the murderess of
Colonel Coleraine.

CHAPTER XVII.
A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.

When the detective left the studio of Mr. Dorking.
the photographer, his brain was in a whirl.

He wanted time to collect his thoughts.

He had supper, and at about eight o’clock in the even-
ing walked, with set lips and a pale face, to the ——
Hotel, and, ascending the stairs, knocked at the door of
Corinne Dayton’ s apartment.

He had made up his mind to place her under arrest
once.

There was no response.

He knocked again, this time with such force as to call
out the chambermaid who had entered the parlor on the
occasion of the finding of the bracelet.

‘Miss Dayton is not in her room,” she said, coming for-
ward. “A messenger-boy came with a note aye in the
Vatteeioon, and_ she left immediately afterward.”

“And she has not since returned ”

at

 

 

 
 
  

  
 
 

ot 199 es

 

THE LOG CAI BIN LIBRARY.

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

“No, sir.”

Manton Mayne bit re lips in vexation.

Was she, this woman with the face of an angel and the
heart of a fiend, to escape him, after all ?

Me ‘*Do you know if she took a conveyance ?” he asked.

i “Ido not. I did not spy on her”—pertly.

ee oe The discomfited detective went down the stairs.

The hack driver who conveyed Miss Dayton to the house
on Broadway happened to be awaiting customers in front
of the hotel.

From him Mayne learned of the trip of the afternoon.

He jumped into the conveyance, and directed the driver
to take him to the house.

Once there, he knocked at the door.

No answer.

He tried the knob.

The door was locked.

“You needn’t waste your time,” called out a coarse-
featured woman on the sidewalk, “for no one lives there.
The house hasn’t been occupied for a month.”

“Not occupied? Why, you must be mistaken.

_ were parties in the house this afternoon.”

“People may go in once in a while to look at the place,
but I tell you no one lives there. My house is next door,
and I think I ought to know.”

The detective was not entirely satisfied, and, entering
the yard, found one of the lower windows open.

He effected an entrance, and made a thorough search

S of the building from top to bottom.

ARs ‘No one was there, and there was nota stick of furni-
one ture any where.

- The house was deserted.

a _ And yet Corinne Dayton had entered the building, and

i - a woman had opened the door. He had the driver’s testi-

mony to both these facts, and the man’s character—he

‘was an old San Franciscan, and the fa of a family—

-was above reproach.

Where had she gone?

Instructing the driver to remain in front of the house a
short time, Mayne started down the street on a tour of in-
vestigation.

‘By persistent inquiries, he at last found a Chinaman
who knew something about the matter.

In his “pidjin” English, he imparted the information
) io that two men, with a long bundle, covered with a blanket,

: had come out ‘of the house an hour before, and had entered
Bo a hack and had gone toward Hayes Valley, or the Mission
Dolores.

: He had watched the vehicle from the top of the hill, for

* his curiosity had been excited on account of the ‘‘bundle,”

and no turn had been made toward the business part of
the city.
Manton Mayne was driven to Hayes Valley.
No one had seen a San Francisco hack that evening.
Po At the mansion a number of these conveyances had
| ee passed, some going to and some coming from the city.
i But though baffled, he was not beaten.

Vic dismissed the ‘driver, and put up at a hotel, deter-
mined to make a further investigation in the morning.

Up betimes next day, he ate a hasty breakfast, and then
went to the nearest liverv stable for a rig.

None could be had for love or money.

Every horse and vehicle had been engaged for a grand
military entertainment at the Pavilion in San Francisco
that day.

While conversing with the stable-keeper in his private
office, a covered wagon dashed by at a terrific rate of
Pt ae speed.
bee lavas, turning quickly, caught one glance of the man

| aS on the seat, and then started out in hot pursuit.

ii He recognized, in the driver, Sidney Turell.

i: The wagon, leaving the Mission, took lace road for

Bernal Heights and Baden.

The detective believed tbat the key to Corinne Dacia s
disappearaecne could be furnished by her husband.

He managed, by running and rapid walking, to keep
_ the wagon in sight, but he was too far off to understand
_ the meaning of the scene at the approach of the hack.

But when he saw a woman running rapidly toward him,

he quickened his pace.
vee new. that a climax had been reached.

There

 

 

My

4

‘

which, though flushed with a joy that but added to its

 

shot from over the hill was heard.

    

The reader knows what afterward anepieee
Frank Locumb’s surprise at meeting Manton Mayne
was not greater than the detective’s at encountering his
friend in this out-of-the-way locality.

Locumb answered the detective’s questioning glance.

‘You are wondering what I am doing out here, Came
out for my health. There was a stag party at Baden last —
night, and I took a hand. Had a first-class time. You
ought to have been there. Our old chum, John Soule, was.
with us, For full particulars, ask him when you see hi
He left for town about daybreak.”

The young man would have said more, but Corinne
Dayton interposed, and gave eloquent and grateful ac-
knowledgments of the service that had been rendered her.

‘‘Mr. Mayne,” she said, raising her lovely eyes to his
face, “I can never thank you enough for coming to my
assistance. You don’t know what you have saved me
from. And you, too,” turning to Locumb; ‘you have
acted bravely—like a hero.” :

The friend of the detective actually blushed, while
Mayne turned away his eyes from the face of the woman,

      
     
     
     
    
        
   
         
     
        
      
   
   
 
          
      
       
 
     
      

loveliness, he believed to be the face of a murderess.

“T but did my duty,” returned Locumb: “and, as it
was, I did not accomplish much, for my man ran away.”

‘Then Sidney was unharmed ?”

She asked the question on the impulse of the moment,
but turned away her head to hide her confusion, when she
found she had betrayed the identity of Locumb’s adver-
sary.

‘Manton Mayne was on the alert on the instant.

“Sidney Turell? Was he one of the men who escaped 2”
Corinne did not answer, and the detective did not re-
peat the question.

In this case silence meant consent.

“Frank,” he said, in low tones, but with rapid earnest-
ness, as he beckoned his friend to one side, “I must pur-—
sue that man.”

‘Let me go with you!” eagerly. “I have got my hand
in now, and, besides, I have taken a professional interest
in the fellow. I shot at him, knocked him down, and then
let him escape in order to hurry to the assistance of Miss
Dayton.”

‘No, I cannot permit that. 1 want you”’—in a voice just’
above a whisper—“to take charge of this woman. The
hack is there ahead of us, and I see that the driver has
captured one of Turell’s accomplices.”

The worthy knight of the ribbons had in fact overpow-
ered the rascal—who was lying on the ground—and was
standing guard over him with a brace uf revolvers.

“Don’t let her impose upon you,” pursued Mayne, “by
any plausible story. See her safely to her room in the
——Hotel, and have a guard placed over it. On no ac-
count must she be allowed to leave the building before I
return. The matter is of the utmost importance, and
much depends on your ae carrying out my in-
structions.”

“You may depend on me.’

“T am sure of it, or I ao not leave her with you.”
“You suspect her, then, of the murder?” asked Locumb,
with a pale face. ogee

“TI more than suspect her—she is the murderess. Now, —
you understand. Guard her faithfully Frank. So long.” —

And with a cold “good-by” to Miss Dayton, Mayne
started up the hill in pursuit.of the men whose figures he
could just discern a quarter of a mile ahead of him.

When they reached the hack, Locumb assisted the
driver in securely binding the ruffian he had disabled.

The fellow was insensible from the terrible beating he
had received, and the work of rendering him hors de com-
bat was expeditiously accomplished.

After he had been tumbled into the hack, Locumb and
Miss Dayton watched Mayne and the fugitives, until all
had disappeared over the brow of the hill which over-
looked the bay.

Then they turned to the driver.

“Ready to start?” he interrogated.
At her companion’ s desire, Miss Dayton took a seat on |
the box.

‘She had just been assisted to her place, when a pistol-

      
       
       
     
     
     
     
 
        
 
        
     
       
       
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
     
     
       
   
     
       
        
 
 
 

  
 
 

 
 
 
  

 
 
  
  

 
 
 

16

 

Locumb started, and looked nervously at his charge.

A moment later came two more shots in rapid succes-
sion.

The friend of Manton Mayne no longer hesitated.

Taking out his memorandum-book, he tore out a leaf,
wrote the following upon it, and handing it to the driver,
instructed him to deliver it into the hands of the manager
of the hotel:
J “My Dear :--It is the earnest request of Manton Mayne, the
_~ detective, who has charge of the Coleraine case, that Miss Corinne
Dayton be kept under close surveillance until he returns to look after

her in person. She must on no account be allowed to leave the hotel.
‘FRANK Locus.”

 

‘Then he said to Miss Dayton :

“My friend may bein great danger. [intend to go to
his assistance. The driver will take you to the —— Hotel.
As for this fellow”—pointing to the prisoner and speaking
to the driver—he must be conveyed to the city prison
and locked up. Tell the chief that either Mayne or myself
will call and explain this evening or to-morrow morning.”

Without waiting for a reply, he lifted his hat to Cor-
inne, and started rapidly in the direction of the shooting.

When he arrived at the top of the hill, he looked down
upon the waters of the bay.

But no sign of a human being on land or water could be
seen.

Pursuer and pursued had disappeared as mysteriously
as if,the earth had opened and swallowed them.

CHAPTER XVIII.
CORINNE DAYTON’S INDIGNATION.

While Frank Locumb gazed about him in amazement, a
pistol-shot rang out sharp and clear in his near vicinity,
and, turning his head quickly, he saw a man emerge from
a hole inthe midst of a group of stunted bushes, not
twenty feet from him, down the hill toward the water.

The man no sooner had both feet on upper earth than
he staggered a few feet, and then sank down upon the
ground, as if mortally wounded.

Locumb rushed forward, his nerves wrought to the
highest tension of anxiety and amazement, when from the
cavity appeared the head and shoulders of Manton Mayne.

He looked at his friend in pained surprise, then at the

~ “body of the fallen man.

“You here!” he exclaimed. ‘“ Where is Miss Dayton?”

Loecumb hastened tv drive away the frowning expres-
sion on the detective’s face by briefly narrating what had
transpired.

“T couldn’t leave you to the mercy of a brace of scoun-
drels after I heard the shots,” he concluded, in accents of
reproach.

“Forgive me, Frank,” was the hurried response. “Now,
tell me, for I am losing time, where is the other fellow—
Turell? Which way did he go?”

“The other fellow! No one came out ahead of you but
this chap, and”—bending over the body—“ you have pep-
pered him for keeps. He’s as dead as a door nail.”

“He deserved his fate,” returned Mayne, grimly. “But
I have an idea where Turell is. Remain here, Frank, and
keep your eyes on the shore. When you see something,
act as you may see fit. So long,” and, like a flash, he

. disappeared in the cavity.

Frank Locumb, his mind: filled with strange forebod-
ings, stood for a minute, lost in thought.

Then, with an oath, he drew his revolver, and entering
the cavity, followed the trail of his friend.

“It won’t do to take any chances,” he muttered, “and I
may as well be in at the death.”

As’ he descended, he saw he was on an incline, some-
thing like that he had seen in the silver mines on the
Comstock, but on a smaller scale.

Fifty feet brought him to a level, with a dark drift in
one direction, and a tunnel in the other.

A moment’s reflection told him the truth about the
locality. :

Turell and his accomplices had entered the tunnel at
the base of the hill, hotly pursued by the detective. :
‘The man who had afterward been killed, had turned up

THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

‘the incline, the direction taken by Mayne, while Turell,
in all probability, had secreted himself in the blind drift,

The facts, in detail, were that the detective had reached
the brow of the hill just as the fugitives had arrived at
the mouth of the tunnel, one hundred feet below.

He fired one shot as a menace, and two shots came back
in retaliation.

None took effect.

Then, to Mayne’s surprise, the men disappeared.

He hastened down the declivity, and the cause of their
sudden exit was revealed.

During the past decade there have been many attempts
made to find gold in paying quantities in the vicinity of
San Francisco—toward the Cliff House, at the Patrero,.
and in the hills beyond.

Some enthusiastic, but not level-headed, gold-seeker,
had tunneled this hill by the bay.

No shaft had been sunk from the top on account of the
/expense, but half-way up the hill an incline had been con-
structed, connecting with the tunnel. -

No gold to speak of was found, and the place had been
deserted for years.

When Mayne reached the point where the tunnel de-
flected, he was for a moment at a loss in which direction
to proceed; but trusting to luck, he hastened up the
rudely fashioned steps of the incline.

When near the surface, the light disclosed the figure of
a man crawling toward the outlet.

On shouting, “Stop or I'l! fire!” he was surprised when
a bullet whizzed past his head.

In the suddenness and shock of this murderous attack,
he failed to understand that the shot came from the rear
and not from in front: and so he gave the man in sight
the benefit of his suspicions, and sent a bullet through his
heart. :

He had no reafon, afterward, to regret his action, for
ithe fellow was a thug and a murderer, one of the most
‘hardened and desperate criminals that had ever preyed
| upon society.

_ Returning to the drift, after his short interview with
_Locumb, he explored its recesses thoroughly.

Turell was not tnere.

Then he hastened along the tunnel.

His friend, arriving on the heels of his departure, made
a similar exploration, and reached the mouth of the tun-
nel in time to see Mayne running down the beach, in the
opposite direction from San Francisco, with Sydney »
Turell a hundred yards in advance.

It was the detective’s desire to capture the man alive,
and therefore he did not fire.

But soon he ground his teeth in rage as he saw Corinne
Dayton’s husband jump into one of two small row-boats,
that were drawn up on the shore, and push it rapidly off
into the water.

Manton Mayne wasin the other a minute later, and
then a race on the water began.

Frank Locumb, arriving at the point of departure too
late to be of any servcie, watched the pursuer and the
pursued with’ feverish interest.

But it was not long before it became apparent that
Turell would escape. =
He was one of the best amateur oarsmen in the city,

while Mayne had but little experience in boating.

When the gap between them had increased to nearly
half a mile, Locumb slowly retraced his steps toward the
San Francisco road.

Sidney Turell Jandea safely on the Alameda shore, over
half an hour in advance of his pursuer.

As for the detective, he disappointedly watched his prey
disappear in the grove of trees that extended for miles
toward the foot-hills of the Mount Diablo range: and |
when he was on terra firma, walked to the railway sta-
tion, and was a passenger on the next local train to the
ferry.

He was in San Francisco in time for lunch, after which,

 

 

%

jin a more presentable attire, he proceeded to the ——

Hotel.

The manager informed him, much to his gratification,
that Miss Dayton had safely arrived, and that his orders,
as expressed in Locumb’s note, had been faithfully com-
plied with. 7p be

 

 
          

  

    
    
 
   
      
      
   
    
    
    
       
    
    
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    
   
 

 

     
     
 
   
 

 

 

 

 
  
 

        

 

- of her apartment in response to his knock.

Why, by your orders, am I treated like acriminal? An-

were destined to hear some wonderful disclosures.

-made a discovery, which, to my mind, leaves not the
slightest doubt as to the identity of the assassin of Colonel

- changed at this outburst.

the forenoon of the tragedy, and at the exact time. Here

 

No. 199,

THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

 

 

Colonel Coleraine’s beautiful ward appeared at the door

When she saw him her eyes flashed, and in a voice
quivering with scorn and indignation, she said : :
“And now, sir, what is the meaning of this insult?

swer me, if you can?”

The detective coldly replied:

“T have come to render you a satisfactory explanation
of my conduct? Will you walk into the parlor?”

She swept by him with the mien of a princess.

He followed her with a grave face. In the parlor both

 

CHAPTER XIX.
A TERRIBLE DISCLOSURE.

“Miss Dayton,” Manton Mayne began, in a voice tinged
with sorrow, “I had earnestly hoped, after our conversa-
tion in the Chinese quarter, that the opinion I then formed
of you would never be changed, and that the future might
show that all your actions, taken since our first meeting
in the room where lay the dead body of my friend, would
bear a creditable construction. It is my painful duty to
inform you that I can no longer regard you with respect,
and that your statements concerning your unfortunate
condition, your innocence of crime, ot murder even”—she
started and a spasm of horror seized her—“ must be taken
as but the crafty emanations of a guilty mind.”

“What!” she gasped, gazing at him with dilated eyes
and a face bereft of color. “ What do you mean ?”

“T mean,” he answered, gravely, “that yesterday I

Coleraine.”

“And you mean to imply”—rising to her feet and speak-
ing in a strangely discordant voice,—‘ that I—I killed
him?”

“Yes,” he solemnly responded, “I cannot but believe
that you are the author of this monstrous deed.”

“Heaven have mercy upon you for your blindness,” she
uttered, in a tone of intense reproach, but exhibiting none
of the indications of shame, or guilt, or terror, “for you
have been most woefully deceived.”

He looked into her clear eyes, luminous with truth and
loyalty, and at that moment knew not what to think or
believe. se

But facts were facts, and, alas! how could such evidence
as he possessed be controverted ?

“T wish you were innocent?” he impulsively exclaimed,
in the conflict of his emotions. “I would give all my for-
tune—the best years of my life—to know that you are, in
truth, what you appear to be, the loveliest and most inno-
cently unfortunate woman on the face of the earth.”

Corinne Dayton’s expression of proud resentment

She resumed her seat, and looked at him inquiringly.

“JT am ready for you to proceed,” was her quiet remark,
after a short pause.

Manton Mayne “ pulled himself together,” and was once
more the detective. ,

“Tt is best,” he said, in a voice that trembled but
slightly, “that this interview be as short as possible.”

She looked at him with eyes that said: “Suit yourself.”

He cleared his throat—the brave, tender-hearted fellow
was slightly hoarse—and proceeded :

“This matter is painful to me, as you must be aware. I
am acting solely in the performance of a solemn duty.
Yesterday, Miss Dayton, I obtained this photograph from
Mr. Dorking’s studio across the street. It was taken on

is a magnifying glass. Take it, and see what fate dis-
closes.” : :

She received the picture mechanically, for not the slight-
est suspicion of its importance as a piece of evidence had
entered her mind.

But when she gazed at it through the glass, a look of
terrified amazement showed itself in her face.

“Tt is fate,” she murmured, brokenly ; “and the truth,

“Yes,” returned the detective, “the truth can no longer
be hidden. The assassin was a woman, and that woman
wore a bracelet, with the clasp formed of a tiger’s claw
and an opal.” '

“Yes, yes”—in a voice just above a whisper, but preg-
nant with anguish—“the secret must be told. I can no
longer blame you for your suspicions,” she said, raising
her dazzling eyes, and looking at him cominiseratingly.
“The evidence must, in your mind—would, in the aver-
age intelligent mind—be regarded as overwhelmingly
against me. I have deceived and disappointed you. [
have been seen in strange places and in strange company.
My husband is a villain, and I supply him with money. [
refuse to explain away circumstances pointing to my
guilt or complicity. I—I stand convicted, I suppose,” with
a rapid change of expression, bringing with it a trembling
lip and a wave of color, “of being the most adroit and
conscienceless being that ever wore the face and spoke
with the voice of a woman.” .

“You must answer to Heaven for your misdeeds, I can-
not judge you,” Mayne evasively replied, for he was again
beginning to feel the wonderful fascination which the
beautiful Corinne exercised over all with whom she came ,
in contact.

“But in your inmost soul you believe me guilty ?”

“T have said so.”

“Then,” in.proud dignity, and with the voice of an out-
raged goddess, “I shall be compelled ‘to scatter your proofs
and your deductions to the winds. Iam not guilty. IL
had no more to do with the murder of Colonel Coleraine -
than you, yourself.”

But Manton Mayne had steeled his heart against her,

The time for hoodwinking him had passed.

He bowed to her superior intelligence, to her matchless
wit and audacity, but he could not retract the opinion
which indubitable evidence had forced him to entertain.

But he was polite enough to say :

“TI wish I might be convinced of your innocence.”

“You shall be convinced.”

This time he looked at herin surprise. Surely this
could not be acting! Her manner was confidence itself,
her bearing superb, and there was not a false note in her
clear, vibrating voice as it rang out the words. ‘

“T admit the correctness of this picture,” she went on,
once more on her feet and standing proudly in front of
him. “There is not asingle detail lacking, except the
identity of the person whose arm is so clearly exhibited.”

Manton Mayne listened in silence, waiting in an agony
of suspense for what was to come.

“Here,” said she, showing her left wrist, “is one of
the bracelets. Where is the other?”

“Tt was stolen from me on O’Farrell street.
yours, for in your note you claimed it.”

“Ves,” with a strange look, “it was mine.”

“Then, if yours, why do you——”

“Wait and I will tell you. I lent that bracelet toa
friend. She wore it on the day of the murder.”

“What!” ejaculated the detective, as a hope he dared
not give utterance tonow dawned on his mind. “An-
other woman! Not you?”

She smiled on him compassionately.

“Yes, there was another woman.
what I said in my note?”

“Ves, that any steps I might take in ferreting out the
truth would imperil the safety of one I dearly loved.”

“You are right, and I told you the truth.”

‘‘And the murderess—who is she?

“Vour sister, Adelia.

Manton Mayne uttered acry of mingled horror and
anguish, and covered his face with his hand.

It was

Do you remember

CHAPTER XX.
A BRAVE WOMAN’S SACRIFICE.

The agony of a strong man is a pitiful spectacle, and in
the presence of such anguish as was exhibited by Manton
Mayne after the terrible revelation of his sister’s guilt, all
of Corinne Dayton’s sweet, womanly sympathy was
aroused.

 

the whole bitter truth, must now, be told.”

«>. .
f

But she made no attempt to console him.

8

  
    
    
    
   
   
    
    
   
   
   
   
    
    
   
    
    
 

 
 
 

 
      
   

   

 

  
 
  
  
    
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
 
   
   
    
  
  
   
   
    
  
   
  
    
 
  
 
   
   
   
  
  
  
  
    
  

    
   

 

. isn uttered by the lips of supremest pity, at such a
-Inoment?

and then, as he looked up, with a face that reflected the
horror and amazement that filled his mind, she softly

_ sister at that awful moment was insane.

- With a brave attempt at composure, he awaited her ex-
_ planation.

adelphia, I became acquainted with your sister.
always rested on her sweet face.

fornia,

the entreaties of Colonel Coleraine, who promised to ac-

“hat the colonel was in the hotel and on the same floor.

past hour had probably overcome him. I have since come |
_to the conclusion that at the time he was in a fainting fit,
for he was subject to severe attacks of vertigo.”

_t#hat she gave way and. permitted me to smooth her hair, n

   

“18 THE LOG

  

CABIN

  

“TABRARY.

 

 

Of what value or power could mere oe be, even
She waited until the first storm of grief had spent foc

sarc ;

“It is not quite so bad as you think, Mr. Mayne. Your
Iam sure of it.”

His face brightened instantly, and he inwardly blessed
her for the words.

“T helieve you, now,” was his husky ai aae “Tell
me all. I must know everything, even to the smallest
aeiail,”

“Four years ago, while attending a seminary near Phil-
She re-
sided in the neighborhood.”

“Yes, with her aunt.”

“We became great friends, although a look of sorrow
She told me the story
ef her ill-fated engagement to Colonel Coleraine when we
tad become bosom friends, and my heart was then drawn
te her more strongly than ever. When I returned to Cali-
we kept up a regular correspondence. A few
weeks ago she wrote me tbat she had received positive
proof of the recent death of the colonel’s wite, and that’
ahe was coming to California to see him.”

“Poor girl, she was deeply in love with him,” mur-

 

mured her brother, in a broken voice.

“In any one else,” continued the fair narrator, “the
sourse she purposed taking I would have considered un- |
smaidenly, and a shocking violation of the proprieties ;
wat knowing Adeliaas I did—that her mind had never
Yeen the same since the breaking of the marriage engage-
saent—I did not even wonder at her determination.”

“But why did shenot write to me of her intentions, so
ahat I could have received her ?”

“She explained all that in her communication to me.
Ske wrote that your last letter; dated two weeks previ-
wasly, stated that you were about to sail for the Sand-
wich Islands for a two months’ vacation.”

“That’s true, that is true; but I did not sail, owing to

wompany me as soon as he had completed the purchase of
the Benton mine at Grass Valley.”

“T answered her letter,” Corinne resumed, “told her of |
the death 6f my father, of the appointment of Colonel |
Coleraine as my euardian, of my approaching departure
for San Francisco, and invited her to nfake her home with
ane after her arrival in the city.”

Mayne shot her a glance eloquent with gratitude. .

“T reached the —-— Hotel the day before the tragedy.
Your sister arrived the same evening, but owing to some
@usunderstanding, did not call on me until the next fore-
moon.

“When I received her, she knew nothing of Colonel
®oleraine’s presence in the hotel. She was pale and agi-
tated, and acted in such a_ peculiar manner, that I began
to entertain the worst fear regarding her.”

“‘Poor Adelia !” sroaned the detective, “how you must
have suffered !”

“Almost her first question, after we had embraced,
was: ‘Where ishe! Is he still in San Francisco?’ I
thought it best to tell her the truth, and so informed her

“She said she must see him atonce. I tried to prevail
em her to wait until afternoon. No, she would die unless
she had an immediate interview. Finding all my en-
treaties to be of no avail, I went to the colonel’s room at
ence. to ascertain if he wasin. As I opened the door, I
saw him sitting in a chair, asleep. The excitement of the

 

“You then returned to your own room ?”
“Yes, immediately.

firmness that she should make herself more presentable,

a Mv information served but to in-—
grease your sister’s agitation, but I insisted with such

arrange her dress, etc. She noticed my bracelets, while I
was thus engaged, seemed to admire them, and so we
made an exchange, she taking one of mine and I taking
one of hers. She left my room about five minutes after
my return from the apartment of the colonel.”

Corinne had proceeded thus far with her strange nar-
rative, but now her voice betrayed considerabie emotion.

“Not more than two minutes had elapsed.” she con-
tinued, looking away from the sorrow-stricken listener,
‘before she burst into the room looking like a maniac.
Her eyes were staring wildly, she was shaking as if with
the ague, and hysterically exclaiming, ‘Oh, my love, my
love, my poor, dead love, this had to kill you,’ she held
up to my horrified gaze a blood-stained dagger.”

“ Horrible, horrible !” burst trom Manton Mayne’s blood-
less lips..

“T said to her in my terror, ‘Why did you doit? How
could you? How could you?’ but she only laugheed ina
way that made my blood run cold, and cried: ‘He.
knows and I know, and I'll never tell.’

‘‘Her wildness increased until she sank in a Swoon on
the bed. IT administered an opiate, forcing the liquid
through her lips, then concealing the dagger. left the
room to learn if my suspicions were to be confirmed. As
I cautiously entered Colonel Coleraine’s apartment, I saw
you. DP]

“TI remember, and now your strange demeanor is ac-
counted for.”

His tone was sadly apologetic, but he did not look up.

‘“T was afraid to tell you the truth, for at that time I did
not know yourname. Afterward, when I learned who

‘you were, I was still averse to making the revelation, for

I wanted, if possible, to spare you the knowledge of what
to-day I am forced to declare.”

He raised his eyes, and there was so much of self-
reproach in the glance that she melted immediately and
returned a look of deepest pity.

“Can I ask you—have I the right to ask you anything?
But the motive? How could my sister kill the man she
loved ?”

“‘T have thought the matter over,” was the sorrowful re-
ply, “and I think I understand. Your sister, with mind
distraught, on the verge of nervous hysteria, entered the
room and awoke the colonel. Knowing nothing of the
death of his wife, startled by the apparition of the woman
whom to love was acrime, he might have said: ‘No,
no—go away—I cannot,’ or given utterance to words of
similar import. Then the mind must have given entirely
away, and——’

“Yes,” interrupting hastily, “it must be so, for I have
heard of similar causes. She slew him because she loved
him, and because she thought he no longer loved her.
But tell me, where is she?”

‘‘At the first opportunity,” replied Miss Dayton, “I had
her removed from the hotel to a Jodging-house at the Mis-
sion Dolores, kept by my father’s old housekeeper.”

“At the Mission? Notin the house where I found my-
self after the assault on O’Farrell street?”

“Yes, and your sister arrived there afew hours after
your departure. A female friend of mine had her instruc-
tions, and went to the —— Hotel for her.

‘‘When I promised you in the lodging-house,” she went
on, “that I would tell you the truth meant it, for I am
but a woman, and the language you used on that occa-
sion exasperated me beyond endurance.’

“But you will forgive me?” with an imploring look.

“Yes, Ihave already forgiven you; I don’t blame you
now.

“The important business,” resuming her discursive
tone, ‘‘which took me away from the house so suddenly-
was a call from my ease-hardened husband. I dared not
disobey, and could not render you: any explanation. So
T cut the knot by. riding off, and leaving you to entertain
an unjust suspicion concerning me.’

““T confess it,” he humbly replied.

“Your sister isin good hands, though when I saw her
last she was feverish and irrational. The doctor says she
is suffering from severe nervous shocks, but he does not
regard the symptoms as dangerous. I intended to call on
her on. the afternoon I received the note signed with yous

name.”

}

s

  
 

o

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
 

 

 

 

No. 199.

THE LOG CABIX LIBRARY.

  

=

19

 

“A note from me? What do you mean 2”

Corinne rapidly unfolded the plot that had lured her
to the house on Broadway, and had culminated in her
rescue on the Baden road. —

“So all this is the work of your husband. He isa
precious rascal, and I am sorry he slipped out of my
grasp. But I must hasten to my sister.”

He rose to his feet, and then continued, with impressive

earnestness :
-**Before I go, Miss Dayton, I want to ask your pardon
for my past actions. Can you ever forgive me for my un-
warranted suspicions? Can I ever hope to be called your
friend, the friend of one-who has acted so bravely, so
generously, so self-sacrificingly ?”

Her eyes were brimming as she made him this answer :

“TI pardon you freely and unreservedly. Be my friend
henceforth, and—never doubt me again.”

_“I never will,” he impulsively responded.

She gave him her kand, and he pressed it to his lips.

Half an hour later they drove up to the house at the
Mission.

The day’s developments were not yet over.

9?

CHAPTER XXI.
THE MYSTERY GROWS MORE PERPLEXING.

Manton Mayne’s heart beat violently as he followed
Corinne Dayton into the lodging-house in the Mission
Dolores.

When he left the place a few days before his mind was
bitter against the woman he now regarded with feelings
of profound admiration and respect.

But his thoughts centered upon his sister, the unfortu-
nate victim of cruel destiny, and he listened in excited at-
tention to the following dialogue between Miss Dayton
and the homely but kind-featured proprietress :

‘How is Miss Mayne?”

‘‘Better, much better. Thank Heaven, she recovered
consciousness yesterday, and the doctor says she is now
entirely out of danger.”

“Is she awake now ?”

“Oh, yes, and sitting up in bed.”

Manton Mayne followed his fair conductress to his sis-
ter’s apartment.

Opening the door slightly Corinne gave one glance, and
then nodded encouragingly to her companion.

A moment later and the detective had his arms about
his sister, while she wept tears of joy upon his neck.

A scene like this, affecting in the extreme, cannot well
be described. Much must be left to the imagination of the
reader.

Adelia Mayne, a handsome blonde, whose beauty was
not dimmed by her pallor, was propped up in bed, and in
the first stages of rapid convalescence.

In her large blue eyes there were no signs of insanity,
and after the first greetings were over she talked cohe-
rently and unrestrainedly.

Mayne, while deeply anxious to learn if she remembered
anything concerning the tragic occurrence, yet felt some
delicacy, in her present weak condition, of taking the
initiative as a questioner.

Adelia herself paved the way for an explanation.

“I know what has happened,” she said, looking with
wistful sadness at Corinne, “and I can now talk quite
calmly about it.”

“Don’t agitate yourself, dear,” entreated her friend,
earnestly. “By and by we will talk the matter over.”

“No,” was the petulant rejoinder; “a sick woman has
her fancies, her crotchets, and her desires. I must know
from you if the murderer has. been caught.”

Manton Mayne groaned in despair, and then gave
Corinne a look of agonized appeal.

That young lady, rightly interpreting it, turned to
Adelia, and said, consolingly :
~ “There, there, we will tell you al) there is to be told bv
and by. You have much to say to your brother. I will
leave you and come in after a while.”

She turned to go, but the sick girl’s voice recalled her.

“Nothing that you may Say can agitate me now. I know |
the worst, and I know it is all over. See, Iam not crying. |

 

I have cried so much that the fountain of my tears must
have dried up. All day Ihave been thinking of but one
thing, and that is that the murderer of my love must be
caught and punished.”

She spoke with feeling, but there were no tears in her
eyes, and none of the premonitory symptoms of hysteria.

Corinne Dayton now glanced entreatingly at Mantom
Mayne.

The latter spoke up in tender accents :

“T£ you must know, Adelia, I will say for Corinne—
Miss Dayton—that no one but ourselves knows how
Colonel Coleraine met his death. The secret will not be
divulged.”

‘You know,” she exclaimed, in bewilderment, ‘and yet
you say it must be kept a-secret. I—I don’t understand
you. Have you all gone mad ?”

This was too much for both the brother and the friend.

The strong man sobbed, while Corinne burst into a flood
of tears.

Adelia Mayne looked on in undisguised peepee and.
astonishment.

When she opened her lips to speak there was a trace of .
anger in her voice.

“What mystery is this?” she demanded. “Colonel
Coleraine has been murdered—cruelly murdered. What
reason exists why the name of the murderer should not
be known ?—why should he not be dealt witb according te
law, and hanged—hanged by the neck until he is dead?
Did you kill him?” with ironical sternness to her brother.

“TI? Great Heaven, no!”

“Corinne couldn’t have killed him, unlest—— 2

She paused, looked at her friend hesitatingly a moment,
then blushed in very shame at the monstrous thought.

‘No, no,” she went on; ‘‘of what am I thinking. But,”
with a commanding manner, “some one killed him, and
if you know the person, Manton, I insist that you tell me
his name.”

“Do you know?” he inquired, looking- at. her with eyee
of sad reproach.

s I? _ Of course not.
room.’

ee is

Mayne almost shouted the word, so great was his amaze
ment.

“Yes,” her manner a wonderful contrast to that of her
brother. “ When I left Corinne to go and see him he was
dead, stabbed to the heart,” and as the recollection of the
awful scene came to her she trembled like a leaf and her
voice broke.

‘‘ Heaven be praised for all its mercies !
all! not she!”

And the strong, brave, and ordinarily self-contained.
detective fell on his knees, and lifted up his hands im
thanksgiving.

As for Corinne, she dashed at her friend and covered@
her face with kisses. oh

“What fools, what idiots we have been,” she burst owt.
“To ever think that you, poor innocent, had, anything t@
do with it.”

Adelia Mayne was dumfounded at this exhibition.

Pushing her friend away she indignantly asked:

‘And did you think J killed him ?”

“What else could I think, dear, after you came into my
room with the bloody dagger in your hand, and acted s®
strangely, giving no explanation of your conduct?”

“T understand,” said Adelia, as her head drooped, “ you
must, indeed, have thought—that.”

“JT was/a wretch to think so, nevertheless.”

“No, I might have formed the same opinion had our
positions been reversed.

“Now,” she continued, “I will tell you all I know, and
I want you to promise me, Manton, that you will catel
the murderer.”

“Tf heisontop of the earth I will find him, >was the
determined reply.

“When I went into the room,” began Adelia, quite
calmly, “Colonel Coleraine was sitting in his chair, dead
or nearly so. In. his breast was a dagger, buried to the
/hilt. Idrew it out, and then, overcome by the sight of the
blood, and nearly bereft of my senses, I rushed back te
Corinne’ sroom. And that is all I know about it.”

He was dead when I went into the

Not she, after

 
 
    
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
   
  
   
 
   
  
    
  
  

   
   
  
  
    
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
   
 
   
  
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
   
       
     
    
   
  
 
  
   
 
 

  
  
  
  
   
  
    
  
 
 
  
   
  
   
   
    
   
  
  
  

 

THE LOG CABIN

LIBRARY.

 

 

    

"You saw no one in the corridor when you entered or
came out?” asked her brother.

“No, not a soul.”

“Then who is the murderer ?” looking at yoorene as if
she could help him.

The latter turned pale, as a thought came to her, but
said nothing.

Manton Mayne understvod her silence.

Sidney Turell was the man.

GHAPTER XXII.
MAYNE’S STRATEGIC MOVE.

Frank Locumb was standing in front of the —— Hotel,
when, late in the afternoon, Manton Mayne and Corinne
‘Dayton returned from the Mission Dolores.

As he noted the blushing face of the heiress, and the
happy, contented expression on the countenance of her

companion, his brow darkened, and something that
_sounded like an oath fell from his ‘lips.

“What's up?" was his thought. “Has she bewitched
him, as she has bewitched me?”

But he lifted his hat when they came up, and said as he
conjured up a smile of welcome:

‘You two appear to be in excellent spirits.

_drawn a prize in the big lottery ?”

' “ Better than that, Frank,” returned Mayne, as he shook
_his friend heartily by the hand, “we have learned the

truth.”

“The truth! About what?” and he gazed expectantly in
the joyous countenance of the other.

‘‘About me,” put in Corinne, in her sweetest tones. “He
has diseovered that Iam not quite so ferocious as he had
supposed.”

* But,” with a bewildered air, “I don’t understand.”

iy You shall soon be informed if you will wait for me in
the reading-room,” and so saying Mayne escorted Miss
Dayton to her room.

As she was about to enter a thought struck him.

“Is the dagger vou took from Adeli a still in your pos-

- gession?” he asked.

“Yes. Wait a moment, and I will bring it to you.”

She vanished on the words, but returned a few moments
later: with the instrument of death wrapped in a handker-
chief.

. Mayne took it, and after they had parted and she had
elosed the door looked at it intently.

_ It was a small, double-edged affair, with an ivory han-
dle, gold mounted.

‘He had seen others like it, but there was nothing about
this one to determine who had been its owner.

_ With a sigh he again restored it to the handkerchief,
and placed it in the inside pocket of his coat.

In the hotel reading-room he found Locumb anxiously
awaiting him.

Without giving his friend a chance to ask a question
the detective briefly recounted the developments of the
day.

Locumb whistled more than once during the recital.

His face was grave when the detective had finished.

‘Look here, Mant,” he said, “you ought never to have
suspected Miss Dayton. She is not the sort of woman to
commit such a deed. 1 wonder that she ever forgave you
for your suspicions, and for the language you have used
» toward her.”

“She is an angel of goodness,” was the enthusiastic re-
ply, “or she never would have pardoned me.”

“See here, Mant,” remarked the other, after a pause,
“what did you mean the other day when you said she was
not for me,” and he looked keenly at his friend.

Mayne laughed.

‘*So that’s the way the wind plows, is it?
love with her.”

‘“T am beginning to be.”

« Well, I will save you from many heartburns by in>

‘forming you that she has a husband living.”

‘“‘The dickens you say! When did you make that dis-
covery ?”

Locumb was as pale as ashes as he asked this question.

¥ Several aye ago.”

Have you

You are in

 

“And you never od a word to me about it.”

‘““No. I had reasons for keeping silent.”

“And the reasons no longer exist ?”

“No; but you must not breathe a word of the sqcret
to any ‘one. »

‘‘Bah! whom should I tell?.
feel like mentioning the subject ;
my word it is.”

‘You must have been hard hit.”

“Yes,” with a sigh.
business. Too bad, Mant, too bad.”

“It is worse than you imagine.
Turell, the man who escaped me in the boat.”

“No! ! You don’t mean it?”

Locumb’s face was a study.

“Yes; and what’s more, he is, unless my deductions
are all wrong and my facts illusions, the murderer of
Colonel Coleraine.”

it’s too painful. Upon

The detective’s friend sprang to his feet as if shot, and

began rapidly to pace the floor.

“This is a go!” he ejaculated, as he noted Mayne’s
amused expression. “This lovely heiress the wife of a
murderer, and I ehad the double- dyed scoundrel by the
throat, and then let him go. Just give me another such
chance, and J’ll make her a blooming widow in short
order !”

el thought the intelligence would not please you,

Frank,” remarked the detective, half maliciously.

“Please me!” tacing his friend with a lowering brow.
“‘No. There’s no hope now of my winning this peerless.
creature. I wish you’d never meddled with the affair,
Mant. You’ve broken me all Up. y

And he looked ‘‘broken up

“I’m sorry, old fellow,” aaid the detective, “but you
might have been i in a worse state at I hadn’t put in my
oar.’

There was a long pause.

“Tell me why you think this Turell is the murderer,”
Locumh at length asked.

Mayne outlined the case as he understood it.

“Pretty strong,” was his friend’s comment,
tirely circumstantial.

“but en-
Now, since you have mentioned

Turell’s. mother”—for the detective had concealed
nothing—“‘a new theory has presented itself to me. How
do you know it was not.a woman after all? To be plain,

who had better cause to hate the colonel than his wife?”

“Her hate is buried. She is dead. 2

“Are you sure of it?”

‘““A friend of my sister saw her in her coffin.”

“That settles it then.”

Mayne left Locumb puffing viciously at a cigar, and in
no enviable frame of mind, and made his way to the
office of the chief of police.

As he walked along he reviewed the evidence that had
accumulated against Sidney Turell.

He saw there were gaps to be filled, and that unless he
could get hold of all or a portion of the numbered. bank-
notes. and trace their possession to Corinne’s husband, as
well as prove his presence in the neighborhood of the ——
Hotel near the time of the murder, that a conviction
could not result in the event of an arrest and trial.

“This is the most mysterious and complicated affair I -

ever had anything to do with,” he muttered. “TI build up
a beautiful edifice of proof, and a puff of wind blows it
over. I wonder if I ever will discover the truth.”

Arrived at the jail Mayne learned that James Flatt. od
waived an examination, and that after hearing the testi-
mony of the chief of police for the prosecution the judge
had held him for trial without bail.

He asked the chief if any complaint had been lodged
against the man who, Locumb had informed him. had
been brought on by the driver of the hack from Baden
during the forenoon.

“No,” was the answer.
you or Mr. Locumb to appear.”

“How does he take it? Is he down on his luck 2”

“No, not at all. On the contrary, he has been in re-
markably fine spirits ever since he was brought in. The
last time I saw him, about an hour ago, he asked if any of
his friends had called yet.”
“What is your opinion ?” is :

 

—No.199,

Besides, I should never

“That ride from Baden did the

Her husband is Sidney —

“T have been waiting for either

     
    
 

  
    

    
 

 
    
   
      
       
  
       
       
      
        
     
     
     
     
     
   
   
 
 
 
    
 
  
  

 

 

     
  

 

   
        
     
      
    
    
    
   
  
 

 
  

  
    

   
 

  
      

  

   

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o

Ce ay

 

 

 

 

 
    
     

  
     

   

 

 

ee “But I have my instructions, and I know what your

oe

>

“Prefer your own charge.” ; husband would be likely to attribute the man’s releage “to

     

_ “J think he has wealthy backers, and is relying on their, ‘Are your sureties here?” asked the-magistrate.
efforts to get him out on bail.” : “These are our sureties,” briskly responded the attor-

“I want*to use this fellow,” said the detective, after a ney, as he stepped forward and laid five hundred dollars
pause, “and I think, after I have stated the case, that I in crisp gold notes on the desk.

THE LOG CABIN. LIBR

_may rely on your assistance.” “Cash bail. Very well. The prisoner is released on bail,
Anything in reason, Mayne. You know you can de-| pending the examination.”
pend on me on any square deal.” As Holbun walked out of the court-room a roughly
oe ll not compromise you, never fear.” dressed man, with black hair and beavy black beard, who
! * Then open up. Ee had the appearance of a sailor or ’longshoreman, arose
oo Well, then, I want this man released in order that I from a seat in the corner and spoke a few words with the
may trail him to his employer’s stamping-ground.” _attorney.
Mayne then explained why he suspected Sidney Turell.| Then he quickly followed the discharged tool of Sidney
The chief was silent. Turell.
‘‘He can’t be released only in a legal wav,” he at length; And now began a game that was destined to be fraught
said. with the most important consequences.

‘‘And that way will suit me,” was the quiet response.
“None of his friends have called on him, and the way is
oe for the ap Spee ye plan I propose to adopt. First,| ~ CHAPTER XXIII.

want you to go to his cell and tell him that one of his
friends has left word that he will be in to see him after a a ee
while.” Manton Mayne, disguised as the black-bearded sailor,

The chief did as requested, and on returning said: followed closely in the wake of Mark Holbun.

“He bit like a gudgeon; smiled all over when I spoke’ He knew that in the game he proposed to play there
cf his friend’s intended visit. ‘Oh, I’m solid in this burg,’ was one chance against him.
he said; ‘I knew the boss wouldn’t go back on me, I| Sidney Turell, in all probability, had confederates, and
awon’t be in the cooler long, if you hear me.’ ” ‘if they happened to be in his company when Holbun

“Nothing could be better,” observed the detective. should make his appearance the bail scheme would speed-

 

_ “Now, chief, what is the lowest charge that can be pre- ily be exposed.

ferred against him ?” | But as he hoped would be the case, if Turell chanced to
“T have nothing to do with that. This is your own case, be alone, the triek, might not be detected, for Corinne’s

“All right. Come with me.” the efforts of a co-conspirator.

Mayne led the way to one of the justice’s office, and be-| Hoibun, unsuspicious of the sleuth-hound in his rear,
fore a committing magistrate swore to a complaint against walked rapidly along Kearney street until he came to
Mark Holbun, the name the man had given, for an assault | Bush.
with a deadly weapon. | He waited a few moments, and then boarded a street-

This done he asked what amount of bail would be car, taking a position on the rear platform.
required. Manton Mayne jumped on in front.

“JT don’t ask for a_high figure,” he said. They thus journeyed, changing cars but once, until they

The justice thought a moment, asked a few questions, arrived at the terminus in the Mission Dolores.

- and then fixed the bail at $500. . It was now after dark, but the moon was in its first
_ Our hero smiled, and then walked back with the chief quarter, and the detective, keeping in the shadow, found
to his office. |no difficulty in trailing his man,

Then he explained all the details of his plan. | Holbun, after fifteen minutes’ walk, entered a saloon in

«asa light broke in on his understanding, he shook the

The chief listened in marked astonishment, and then, alow quarter near the sand hills, and Mayne, passing by
‘the door a moment later, saw him disappear in a small

detective’s hand warmly. ; apartment at the rear.
“Tt ought to prove a master-stroke,” was his frank com-| On one side of the saloon—a low, one-story frame struc-
mentary. ture—was a blind alley, extending a few feet beyond the
“T hope it will.” building.
“Still there is a chance, a dangerous chance, against) The detective passed some fifty feet down the alley, and
ou.” halted in front of the outer door of the room in which his -
“T knowdés’—grimly—“ but I will take all the risks.” man had entered.
It was now five o’clock in the afternoon. The sound of voices made him prick up his ears.
Two hours later the door of Mark Holbun’s cell was un-| Mark Holbun had undoubtedly found his employer.
locked, and he was ordered by the chief to come out. Mayne utilized the keyhole, and saw a man whom he
“Has my friend come?” he asked. recognized as Turell walk toward the door.
“Ves, and it leoks as if you were to be bailed out to-| As noiselessly as a cat, and with equal -celerity, the de-
night.” tective crawled under the steps, which were open at the
This with a sour expression, as became the enemy of sides.
law-breakers. Corinne’s husband turned the knob, looked about care-
“I told you so,” the prisoner chuckled ; “I knew they | fully up and down the alley, and then, with a satisfied
would come to time.” : air, closed and locked the door.
In the justice’s office Holbun was accosted.by a middle-| In an instant Mayne was back at the keyhole, and was

 

aged man, with a sharp nose, a sunken face, and piercing 'a deeply interested listener to the conversation that en-

" eyes, set deep in his head. |sued between the man he had tracked from the jail an

“He was a well-known police court lawyer, with not the the man he looked upon as the murderer. -

best of reputations. | “Now,” spoke up Turell, “explain, if you please, how

- “Tam here,” he said, “at the request of a friend of you managed to get here, after being dumped into the

~ account of urgent business in another part of the city.”

| hands of the chief of police.”

“T was bailed out as I told you,” was the gruff response.
“Didn’t you work the racket?”

“Me? No.”

yours, who unfortunately cannot be present himself on

-. He winked one eye, and Holbun nodded his head.

 

: friend wants. You will be admitted to bail, the bail will) ‘‘But the shyster that engineered the game said as how
_ be given, and upon your release you are expected to meet he was acting for my friend. Now, who is my friend in

 
   
   
 

. your friend—you know who—at the usual place to-night.” this particular monkey business but you? That’s what I’d

“TJ understand,” was the low reply. “I can find him.” | like to know.”

' “Allright then. Sit down and keep your own counsel.” Turell looked perplexed.

_ After the case had been called and the defendant,| Soon his face lightened, and he muttered :
through his attorney, had entered a plea of not guilty, the “She did it, of course. Just like her. A regular trump,
question of bail came up. and yet she hates me.”

  
  
     
     
   
    
 

   

  
 

  
 
 

  
 
 
 

 
 
 

 
  
 

  
 
 
  
 
  
  

    
 
 
  

   
  
   
  

LOG CABIN

 

LIBRARY.

   

 

 

“She,” repeated Holbun, in surprise, ‘‘who’s she?
_ there a piece of calico in this funeral ?”

“Shut up,” exclaimed his companion, with a menacing
look, “this isn’t an affair that concerns you.”
~— “Doesn’t concern me, eh? Then why am I in it?”

“You occupy a certain position, and you are paid to do
eertain work and ask no questions,” sternly replied
Turell. “So let that satisfy you.”

‘*But I don’t believe a woman had anything to do with
my skipperee. The shyster chinned as if a man had
planked up the boodle.” ;

“Of course it wasa man. What a dunce I was not to
recognize his hand at first.”

Turell bit his lips in vexation at what he considered his
blind stupidity.

“It was ‘Old Smoothy’ and no one else. I might have
known he would have taken a hand at the right time.”

“Who is ‘Old Smoothy.’ One of the gang ”

“*Yes, and he’s a bird.”

Then he added :

“T am glad you have come to-night, for IT havea job on
hand that needs a strong arm and a steady nerve.”

“ That’s where I live,” was the bombastic response.

“ He promised to send me a man, and perhaps he means
you. Wewill waita while and see. If no one comes
within an hour Ill let you work the snap alone, but I will
be better satisfied 1f another party hops in. There will
be no mistake with a pair of you on n deck. :

“ 'W hat’s to be done ?”

‘A woman is to be muffled.”

‘*Is she to croak ?”

$6 No. 9

“Then I’m your missionary. There’s less danger in it,
and I don’t care about doing the grand at a necktie party
just yet. What’s the stake?”

“One thousand dollars.”

“Gimme the gir}.”

Manton Mayne waited to hear no more.

Time was precious, and he had evolved a plan in a.
mind that promised to result in the discomfiture of the
villains.

He stood at the mouth of the alley, but concealed by
the side of the building, for some minutes.

At last one of the worst featured desperadoes the de-
tective had ever seen came under the gas-light on the cor-
ner, and approached the saloon.

He wore an old blue army overcoat and a_ broad-
brimmed slouch hat.

When he was within a few feet of the door Manton
Mayne stepped out from his place of concealment, and
beckoned to him.

The man quickly moved forward.

“Are you from ‘Old Smoothy?” the detective cau-
tiously whispered.

“Yes, and you are the blooming ringmaster in this cir-
cus ?”

“You've struck it.
business.”

A. few feet down the alley Mayne halted, and looked the
rough full in the face.

A fateful rnoment had arrived.

‘Have you got the papers?” he asked, with a meaning
expression.

“What papers?”

“ Of introduction—to tell that you are the right hair-
pin—that you are dead safe on the. lay.

The man engaged for this particular enterprise, having
mo reason to suspect that he was being played with,
answered in the affirmative, and then drew a paper from
his pocket and handed it to the detective.

The latter could hardly conceal his gratification.

It was not light enough for him to read what was writ-

Come here and I will give you the

ten on the paper, but he believed that it would be an.

“open sesame.”
Placing it in his vest-pocket he remarked :
“T reckon it’s all right,” and then——
The emissary of “Old Smoothy” became the most aston-
ished man in San Francisco.

With a leap like a tiger Manton Mayne seized him by |

the throat and bore him to the ground.

Is|

he was no match for his determined spe

Before he could utter a sound the detective released one
hand from his throat, and clapped it over his mouth.

Then, with his knees on the prostrate man’s chest he
hissed these words into his ear :

“Tf you make the least ouctry or attempt to struggle ia
will kill you as I would a dog. Do you understand ?”

The victim’s staring eyes expressed the fear he felt, and
the question was answered.

Manton Mayne had come prepared for such an oe
ency.

In an incredibly short space of time, for he worked rap-
idly, skillfully, and expeditiously, the evil-faced man was”
bound hand and foot and gagged.

‘““T must leave him here for a while,” our hero mute
as he arose, panting, to his feet. “ There is no alternative.”

read the paper handed by his victim, without being Ee
ceived by any person who might be inside.

The writing was on a sheet of small note-paper, and was
unfamiliar.

It zontained these words:

never yet missed a trick. Look out for NuMBER ONs,”’ |

“Now Iam _ heeled,” was Mayne’s joyful thought, ‘
one of these fine days I will look out for ‘Number One.’ ”

Replacing the paper in his pocket he boldly entered the.
saloon and knocked confidently at the rear door.

‘“'W ho’s there?” came a voice just above a whisper.

“Old Smoothy,” was the answer, in the same key, and
the door was immediately opened.

The only occupants of the apartment were Sidney Turell
and Mark Holbun.

ful inquiry, but he was soon reassured on reading the
note which was handed to him.

He recognized the handwrting, and implicitly believed
he was in the presence of the man selected for participa-
tion in the evening’s work of villainy.

“'What’s your name?” he asked.

“Simon Caine,” was the answer, in deep tones. “Now,
what’s the job?) ‘Old Smoothy’ didn’t explain, but said
you’d give me the points on the layout.”

“Sit down and I'll |tell you, and you, Holbun, can pipe
it off.”

After introducing the pseudo Caine to the bailed- out
criminal ; Turell began his explanation.

i There isa woman who is inmy way. I want her re-
moved, not for good and all, mind you, but simply taken
to a place which I shall designate, and where Tf intend she

with the sylvan beauties of nature, or with her own sad
thoughts.”

“ Belay there, with your fine talk. Speak plainer, can’t
you?”

It was evident that Simon Caine had a contempt for
educated swells, such as Sidney Turell appeared to be. ~

“Well, then,” pursued Corinne’s husband, good-

flyer, a short distance from here, that I want snaked to-
night to a crib in Hayes Valley. It will be a picnic for

act.”

“'What’s her name 2” as

“Never mind the name. If I show you where she is to
be found that’s enough for your purpose, my covey.”

“No, I want to know her name.
a change on you to-day.
will be a go to-night if I get the points down fine.”

 

pause, answered :
“Well, I will tell you her name.”
“Spit it out, cully.” ce ae
“But it must never be mentioned by you. Your life

j

The fellow was strong, but thus taken ata disadvantage

“Isend amanasI promised. You may depend onhim. He has

‘andy

The former looked at the disguised detective in doubt- — :

shall pass a few weeks in strict seclusion, communing .

humoredly, for he was most favorably impressed with
“Old Smoothy’s” man, “there’s a Mother Hubbard high- |

you, because she’s weak as a cat from doing the fever

She may have worked —
I never make a mislick, and it ~

Reassured by this speech, and remembering what _
‘Number One” had written in regard to the reliability
and staying qualities of the man, Sidney Turell, after aes

     

     
       
      
    
        
   
    
    
         
       
   
     
       
        
   
   
  
 
  

  

After waiting a few minutes to compose himself, he went
to the sidewalk and near enough to the saloon window to —

 
 
  
 
       
      
        
   
   

‘G2 hin

 

fa
_ oft

 

 

   

f
me

  
   
   

    
      
    

  
  

  
     

THE LOG CA BIN LIBRARY.

23

 

 
 

a4 be worth a postage stamp if you blabbed, and

Old Smoothy’ found it out.”

‘I’m dumb as an oyster. Her name?

‘Adelia Mayne.”

_ The disguised detactive started, and nearly betrayed
eel ‘$0 great was his amazement.

  

Who is she?”

   
 

 

CHAPTER XXIV.
A BLACK PROSPECT.

when Sidney Turell spoke the name of the woman he
desired abducted he noticed the start made by the false
Simon Caine, and it puzzled him exceedingly.

But he was not gifted with sufficient shrewdness and
Ml B penetration to make him suspicious. Still he asked:
Oy = “What’s the matter? Have you heard the name.before?
Do you know the woman?”

The detective’s wits came back to him. He was not
en off his guard by the question, and he had his answer
ey: :

“You almost knocked me silly when you reeled off that
name. But I’m hunky-dory now. The gal? No, I don’t
know her, but the name staggered me. Mayne! That’s
the handle of a cursed detective who came near walking

‘my log a few years back.”

- f'Oh, I see. You have no love for him?”

Sidney Turell’s face at that moment expressed the
ercest passions.

_ “Td like to get him in my clutches once, and I’d show
you how much I love him !”

_ This with a perfect simulation of murderous rage.
“Then you won’t mind carrying off his sister?”

“Mind! I wouldn’t miss such a chance to make his
blamed heart ache for all the cart-wheels you could stack
_ @ up on that table!”
ors - “Then you are just the man, of all men, for me!” cried

“Turell, with enthusiasm, “ and I don’t mind telling you
now that it is solely because I hate him, and want to

_@f make him suffer, that this job has been put up.’

Sy = ‘’ What has he done to you?”

. “He has done enough,” evasively, “to make me his
enemy for life.”

“Do you know his sister ?”

_ “No, I don't know her; but I have seen her.”
- | “How did you locate her?”

| - “A friend of mine, who is a friend of hers—that’s queer,
rp ent? it?—went to the house. JI am naturally curious, and
| I made inquiries, and found out what I wanted.”

“Ts this friend of yours in the game?”

“No,” moodily, “and worse than that, she’d stop it ina
jiffy if she tumbled to it.”

- At that moment Manton Mayne was in deadly peril, but
he did not know it.

In blissful ignorance of his desperate situation he sat
facing Sidney Turell, with a highly satisfied expression

_ofcountenance.

He looked upon his position as perfectly secure.

But an unfortunate circumstance had arisen.

During the scuffle in the alley his false whiskers had
become slightly disarranged, and a portion of his face, on
the side turned partially away from Turell, was exposed.

Mark Holbun, sitting behind him, had detected the im-
re eon.

{4 / He had not ventured to put ina word during the con-
“8 i versation, but he had used his eyes all the same.

"7 About the time that Mayne, with a suggestive gesture,
expressed his hate for himself Holbun grasped the situa-
tion.

He bided his time, and when the detective was about to
eee his line of inquiry, with the rapidity of lightning,
he flung his arms about the disguised man-hunter’s neck,
und wrenched him backward to the floor.

As hé fell his adversary, with the other hand, jerked
he black whiskers from his face.

Sidney Turell, in blank amazement, which soon changed
30 wild-eyed terror, gazed.down into the features of the
'man he feared most on earth. a
ut while he looked the face was turned. and wriggling
an eel out of Holbun’s clutches Manton Mayne
anted his ot in canta S stomach, ie that worthy

   
 
  

 

 

 

  

  

  

  

 

candidate for the gallows doubled up in direst agony in
the nearest corner.

As the detective arose Turell, who had recovercd from
his astonishment, struck him a powerful blow full in the
face.

Mayne reeled, tbat did not fall, and before his red-haired
enemy could follow up his advantage he found himself

| locked in the detective’s muscular arms.

Then ensued a terrific struggle for the mastery.

There would have been but one termination to the con-
test, for Turell was no match for his more powerful and
scientific opponent, had not Mark Holbun recovered to
take a hand.

With eyes gleaming with murderous fire he advanced
from behind the detective, with a long knife in his hand,
and made a thrust that ‘might have ended our hero’s
career then and there had not the combatants turned on
the instant.

The sharp blade, meant for Manton Mave: pierced Sid-
ney Turell’s arm, causing him to utter a howl of pain,
and relinquish his grasp on the detective.

Like a flash the latier turned, and paid his respects to
the treacherous Holbun in a manner that would have re-
flected credit on the world’s champion prize-fighter.

Like a pile-driver his right arm shot out, and the man
with the knife, with his head filled with all sorts of
buzzing noises, strack against the wooden partition with
such force as to shake the building to its very foundation.

The lessons our hero had taken in the manly art were
here of considerable service.

Attracted by the noise the barkeeper, armed with a
heavy club, rushed into the room before this interesting
battle against odds could be resumed.

He looked first at Mayne, and then at Turell; and when
the latter, who was nursing his wounded arm, pointed to
the detective, and viciously said, “That’s the man—a fly
cop—down him!" the dispenser of adulterated drinks—a
bullet-headed, weasel-eyea individual, with the cut of a
slugger—aimed a terrible blow at Manton Mayne’s head.

But it never reached him.

Anticipating the assault the courageous and keen-witted

detective ducked his caput, and then shot it forward, like

a battering-ram, in the direction of the barkeeper.

Struck in the pit of the stomach, the bullet-headed club-
wielder fell heavily against a small table which held a
lighted lamp, and table, lamp, and man rolled in «a con-
fused mass on the floor.

Luckily there was no explosion.

In the darkness, however, that succeeded the conflict
was resumed, under different and more terrible auspices.

With the extinguishing of the light Manton Mayne
sprang in the direction of Sidney Turell, but that worthy
had already executed a strategic move.

He threw himself on the floor, and the detective, stum-
bling over his body, fell heavily against the door Sea:
into the blind alley.

He was somewhat dazed by the collision, and as he en-
deavored, in a confused state of mind, to regain his feet,
a pair of arms encircled his neck.

Meantime the barkeeper, on his feet and once more
ready for action, stumbled against Mark Holbun.

Taking that individual for the detective he retreated 4
step. and then, with the swiftness of thought, brought the
wooden bludgeon down on the spot where he supposed the
head of his enemy was located.

Holbun, who, in his bewilderment, had not moved, fell
as ifa house had fallen on him, and after a few convul-«
sive kicks and twitches ceased to be a terror of society.

The blow had fractured his skull, and ended his earthly
existence.

The noise of the struggle going on between Mayne and
Turell next attracted the barkeeper’s attention.

He listened amoment, and then, as a strange suspicion
entered his brain, he threw open the door leading into the
bar-room.

The faint light which streamed in showed him the true
situation of affairs.

He had killed the wrong man, while in the farther cor-—
ner the detective, whom fortune had again favored, had
, Sidney Turell on the floor.

With a pair of handcuffs, which he had just taken from

iy

   

    
 
  
   
   
   
    
     
    
    
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 

 
 
  
 

  
  

  
 
  
 

 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
   
   
   
   
   
     
    
   
          
    
      
  
  

 
 
  

   
 
 
  
  
  
 
  

  

   
 

   

 

 

\

the armhole of his vest, he was about to finish what had
been a most perilous undertzking.

At this moment, and while the barkeeper, who was in
league with Turell, was deciding on his next course of
action, an evil-faced man rushed through the saloon and
into the room. s

It was the party who had been sent to the place by “Old
Smoothy,” and wko had been left, half an hour before. by
the detective, bound and gagged in the alley.

And now Manton Mayne found himself in a desperate

situation.
Enemies on all sides, and not a friend in sight.

CHAPTER XXV.
THE MAN WITH WHITE WHISKERS.

Between nine and ten o’clock in the evening of the
events recorded in the last chapter Frank Locumb sat in
a chair in front of the —— Hotel, lazily puffing a cigar
and musing over the strange complications of the
Coleraine murder case. :

The approach of the manager of the hostelry inter-
rupted his not altogether agreeable meditations.

“There is a gentleman inside, just arrived by the Sac-
ramento boat, who is anxious to find Manton Mayne. As
his friend perhaps you can either furnish the information
required or act for him.”

Locumb arose hastily and went into the hotel office.

There he found George Benton, the Grass Valley mine
owner, whom he remembered to have seen at the inquest.

‘‘Gan you inform me where I can find Mr. Mayne?” he
inquired, after an introduction, ;

“No. He is at work on a difficult case just now, and it
is hard to tell where he may be engaged at this moment.
Perhaps the chief of police may know something about
him. I will accompany you to his office if you desire.”

This courteous invitation was accepted, and on the way
Mr. Benton informed Locumb after he had learned of that
gentleman’s intimacy with the detective, aid his connec-
tion with the discovery of the murder, that most import-

‘ant evidence, though not conclusive, had been discovered
by him since his last visit to San Francisco.

Manton Mayne’s friend was eager to learn what it was.

Mr. Benton thereupon opened his budget. —

“Well,” said he, “I left for my home in Grass Valley
on the afternoon of the inquest, after giving in my testi-
mony about the sale of the mine, and the delivery of the
bank-notes. Yesterday I met a merchant of the place, an
old friend of mine, who seemed to be greatly excited
about something. He drew me to one side, and after stat-
ing that he had been in the city on the occasion of the mil-
itary parade, said that he had not learned of the murder
in the —— Hotel, until the day after his return home. He
had taken the afternoon train. after witnessing the de-
monstration of the veterans, and it was not until he had
read the San Francisco papers that he became informed
of the terrible tragedy. Now, what do you think he told
me after the explanation ?”

“T have no idea.”

“aid he,. solemnly, ‘Benton,

Locumb threw his cigar away,
eagerness :

“You are sure?
course—who stabbed Col

“That was what he said. He sat in the window of a
building directly across the street. He located the win-
dow for me by stating that next adjoining it was a pho-
tographer’s studio.”

“Yes, yes, he was
did see,” and in feverish expectation the o
the explanation.

“You want to assist your detective chum in catching
him, eh?” observed Mr. Benton, as he noticed the agita-
tion of his companion’s manuer.

“Indeed, I do.” hastily, “and give me but a chance,
show me but a substantial, definite clew,
faithfully for Mayne until he appears himseif and takes
hold in a more experienced and intelligent style.”

I saw the murderer.’ ”

aod asked, in trembling

He saw the man—for it was a man, of
onel Coleraine ?”

in a position to see, but tell me all he
ther awaited

THE LOG CABI

and 1’ll work|/

     
    

LIBRARY.
“The merchant further stated that after looking atthe | :
procession for a while he chanced to glance across the —

€

x

q

 

ee

street. -_He saw Colonel Coleraine, who appeared to he gu
asleep in his chair, and he saw a man approach him from [
the rear——” \ ee iM
“ And then?” excitedly exclaimed Locumb. oat
“He turned his head away to look at something else, for — ,
of course, he hadn’t the faintest suspicion of foul play.” < y
“Did he notice the man particularly? Could he describe |

 

   
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
 

him ?”

“He saw his face, but all he could remem
he had long, white whiskers.”

“An old man, then?”

“Ves, older than Colonel Coleraine.”
“ At what time did your Grass Valley
discovery ?” ae
“He said, as near as he could recollect, it was a short ‘
time after the colonel had appeared on the balcony to

ber was that ~

friend make that

greet the veteran survivors of the battle of Stone River.” 4
Frank Locumb mused a moment or two over what he a
had heard, and then he said, in a tone of disgust : es Ee
“Did you come all the way from Grass Valley to tell
Manton Mayne this?” : ee ‘&
“Yes, for I thought he might be on a false scent,ona | 4
wild- goose chase after the wrong man.” le
‘““You know he suspected somebody, then?” . ‘ ;
“Ves, 1 did,” \ a
‘A man or a woman ?” } d

“A man—Sidney Turell, the colonel’s step-son.”

“ And what leads you to believe he is on a false scen
eying him keenly.
“What I have told you. That old man was undoubtedly
the murderer. and a smooth customer he must be, evenif
his hair is white.”
“T perceive you have not had much experience in crim-
inal matters, Mr. Benton,” said the detective’s friend, half
pityingly. : aay
“No. My attention in life has been turned into other >
channels. But I can put two and two together in spite of
that.”

Locumb shook his head. Then he remarked :
“Tf you had investigated the methods of crime you |
might perhaps have arrived at the probably correct con-
clusion before this, that the man was disguised. The
author of such an act would not likely leave a loop-hole’ 4

‘ef
ie oe

be ee

pete

for possible detection, if he could help it, provided, of | ‘
course, that he was possessed of average intelligence.”
“Then you infer——” <
“That Sidney Turell may be the murderer—yes. And 24-4
why not? It would not be difficult for him to procure :
such a disguise.” :
Mr. Benton was silent, and no more was said until they :
arrived at the office of the chief of police. :
That official received them with his customary urban-— 1

ity, and in reply to Frank Locumb’s question as to Man- ©
ton Mayne’s whereabouts, stated that he had left but a
short time before to discover if possible the hiding-place —
of Sidney Turell. er
The mine owner related the substance of the disclosures _
made by the Grass Valiey merchant. a
The chief’s views regarding the matter coincided with ~
those expressed by Locumb. a
“JT am inclined to think,” he said, in addition, “that —
Mayne is on the right track. If Turell is not the murderer
then I must confess, from my present knowledge of the
facts and the circumstances, that the case is far beyond Hy
my depth.” OM
“Tt is a mixed up affair,” remarked the mine owner.
“T never heard of such a puzzling case.” “
“By the way,” observed Locumb, “what has been done -
with the fellow I sent in by the hack-driver ?”
“Mr. Mayne has taken charge of his case,
chief, rather mysteriously.
“Preferred a complaint?”
“Yes, and he has done more than that.”
“Explain.” me oe
“T may as well tell you, in confidence, for both of you ©
can be depended upon to keep it a secret, that the man ig, |
out on bail, furnished by Mayne, and that your friend,® .

   

 

   
   
    
   
       
     
     
   
   
    
   
    
   

  

 
    
 

 
   
 

 
   
 

” replied the :

   

sates

  

 

t

 

 
   
 
 
    
    
   

 
 

 
 
 

 

The mine owner nodded his head in approval, and then
went on: — :

   

Mr. Locumh, left the City Hall in disguise about two ,
hours ago, in sharp pursuit of the fellow.” ee

 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 

No. 199.

a

 

THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

 
 

 

 

- “To what end?” interrogated the young man, in intense |

 

     
   
    
 
   
 
 
    
  

e | surprise.
nm | “To the end that Sidney Turell may be run to earth.
_ | Mayne hopes to trail this Holbun—that’s the name the
_ | fellow gave—to one of Turell’s hanging-out places. Don’t
Yr | you see ?”
ss -“T do,” was Locumb’s hoarse exclamaion. I see that
S Mayne has made careful preparations to either make an
_.., [Lass of himself or get killed!” and he paced the floor in
 Bnervous agitation.
oo '’ laughed the chief; “he can take care of him-
self.”
t “Do you suppose,” returned the other, as he halted in

front of the officer, ‘that this Turell won’t see the game
@when this man Holbun puts in an appearance? Then
where does Manton Mayne get off !—excuse the vulgarism.
He will find himself ina hole of his own making, with
two against him, at least, if not more. Who knows how
many ruffians Turell has at his beck and call? I tell you,
my friend has bitten off more than he can chew, and I’m
going to his rescue; that’s all there is about it.”

The chief interposed no objections, for there was really
a fear im his honest heart that the detective had under-
taken an extra hazardous job.

Pydvided with the meager information regarding the
man-hunter and his cat’s-paw, Frank Locumb, after bid-
ding Mr. Benton a hasty good-by, left the office and
.¢, plunged up Kearney street.

His brain was in a whirl, and it was not until he had
collided with half a dozen people on the sidewalk that he
calmed down and pursued a less erratic course.

Five minutes after his departure the chief of police and
Mr. Benton were on the street.

The former, after pondering over the words of the de-
tective’s friend and the terrible probabilities they sug-
gested, determined to take the field in person.
~ Mr. Benton’s offer to accompany him was accepted.

From the fact that Corinne Dayton had: been imprisoned
in a house near the Mission, the chief determined to ex-
plore that suburb of San Francisco.

It was more than likely that Turell had a rendezvous
in or about that locality.

iY ’ Market street, as they walked down it looking for a

iy “f conveyance, was brilliantly illuminated by electric lights,
| soasto render the features of pedestrians recognizable
3 across the street.

1 They had proceeded but a few blocks, when they saw a

hack stop at a corner ahead of them.

The occupant whose face could not be observed, beck-
oned to an old man, with white whiskers, who was stand-
ing on the sidewalk.

The latter saw the gesture, hesitated not a moment, but

hurried to the vehicle.

The door opened, he disappeared within, and the hack

_ drove on.

The chief thought nothing of the circumstance at the
time, but it was afterward recalled by a startling
_—f incident.

' The night was destined to be filled with wonderful sur-
prises.

wx 1

 

  

Ue

   
  

  

| es

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
A MURDEROUS CONSPIRACY.

The reinforcement of the enemy was made known to
Manton Mayne, when the evil-faced man—who, after long
and strenuous efforts, had succeeded in extricating him-
self from his bonds in the blind alley—had dashed past
the barkeeper, and come to the rescue of Sidney Turell.
| There could be but one outcome to this affair.
| The detective, thrown on the floor and beset by three
desperate men, must have been gifted with superhuman
' power to have successfully combatted them.

When he was fast bound, hand and foot, the three men,
who had suffered so grievously, but so righteously, at
his hands, arose and looked at each other.

  
  
 
  
  
  
 

   
     
      
   

  

  

place, stole, my admission ticket, and knocked me out
when I wasn’t looking. Sabe?” pe

“] understand,” puffed the red haired rascal, “and I
must say that you dropped in just in time to put the
kibosh on his little game.”

“Don’t mention it.” And then, in response to Turell’s
inquiries, he explained, in full, how Mayne had circum-
vented him.

‘‘Did ‘Old Smoothy,’ after handing you the note, give
you any instructions?” asked Corinne’s husband.

‘No, he merely told me where to go.”

“ Always careful ; just like him,” muttered the other.
“Yos, pardrer, I like him myself,” hearing only a por-
tion of the words, and misinterpreting, them. “He’s a
dandy old coon, you bet. Must have been a lightning-
striker when he was young.”

“Ves,” returned Turell, absently, for his eyes were
fixed upon the upturned countenance of Manton Mayne.
Our hero, though death was apparently staring him in .
the face, was yet an eager listener to the foregoing con
versation.

“Tf I am lucky enough to get out of this scrape I'll call
this ‘Old Smoothy’ to a terrible reckoning,” was his
thought.

Then he repeated, in a savage whisper, inaudible to his
enemies :

“T am not dead yet! I am not dead yet!”

Sidney Turell and his companions in villainy went into
another corner and conversed in low tones.

The detective rightly interpreted the action.

‘“‘T am to be put out of the way. I wonder how they pro-
pose to do it? Well, I shall soon know all about it, I sup-
pose.”

The man sent by the mysterious “ Old Smoothy” tapped
the hilt of his knife significantly in answer to some sug-
gestion made by his red-haired employer.

Then the trio acted.

The barkeeper, with another lamp, procured from the
bar-room, went ahead, and opening the side door, stepped
out into the alley.

The evil-faced ruffian lifted the powerless detective in
his strong arms, and followed.

Sidney Turell, his heart filled with devilish glee,
brought up the rear.

The alley terminated at a high board fence.

But there was a means of exit. \

The barkeeper stood before it- a moment, and then a
door flew open.

Stepping through the opening he halted, and held the
light so that Turell, who had come quickly to his side,
could see beyond for some distance.

Before them stood theruins of a brick building, de- .
stroyed by the earthquake of 1868.

No-attempt to rebuild it had ever been made, for the
reason that the original owner had died in 1869, and the
property had since been in litigation.

No purchaser could be found for a piece of real estate
saddled with a defective title.

The weasel-eyed dispenser of liquid poison evidently
knew all the ins and outs of the place, tor he confidently
led the way down into the basement.

Far in the rear he stopped in a room partially filled
with debris, and to which the light of day never pene-
trated.

Manton Mayne was roughly dropped on the floor, and >
then Turell, handing his murderous tool a bull’s-eye lan-
tern, ready for use, silently left the spot, in company with
the barkeeper.

The time had arrived for the consummation of an
atrocious deed.

The conscienceless husband of the beautiful Corinne
reached the outer air, and then shuddered and turned
deathly pale. For a heavy fall, followed by a deep groan,
smote his ears.

At the mouth of the alley he waited in keen suspense,
while the barkeeper proceeded to the bar-room prepara-
tory to closing up for the night.

 

§} “Old Smoothy’s” emissary was the first to speak, and he
§ addressed his conservation, by a sort of intuition, to Sid-
mney Turell.
; He,” pointing to the disgruntled detec

oi ea e

    

      

Not five minutes had elapsed when a man, in an old
‘army overcoat and a wide-brimmed slouch hat, came

igswiftly toward him.

tive, “tookmy “Is it done?” Turell whispered, with chattering teeth.

 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 

  

 
 
 

   
   
    
   
TH nd

LOG CABIN LIBR ARY.

 

 

- Yes,” was the husky answer; “but come away, come
away! I can’t bear it, I hear his voice, I see. his ghostly
face yet.”

Carried away by the awful picture which these few
words presented, Sidney Turell allowed himself to be
drawn a block distant from the saloon.

When thus far from the scene of blood his companion
drew a long breath of relief.

“T’m all right now,” he said, “and I’m ready for the
next business, only I hope it’s lighter.”

But he spoke too soon.

For the supposed murderer of Colonel Coleraine had
not yet recovered his equanimity,

They were opposite a vacant lot on which was a pile of
lumber.

Sitting down in a spot secure from observation Turell
looked searchingly at his confederate and tool.

But it was not light enough for him to see the workings |

of the man’s face.

“Do you think your nerve is steady enough for another
job to-night?” he at length asked.

“Try me and see. I am after bullion, and I want to-
night’s stake large, to take me to Mexico.”

“Then you may work up this woman business.”

‘*What woman:business?” was the innocent inquiry.

‘Oh, I forgot. I told the detective all about it on the
supposition.that I was telling you.”

Turell then explained what he wanted Apne and the rea-
sons therefore.

‘‘T don’t see any sense in the job,” remarked the other,
“though I will do it all the same. Now that this Mayne
has croaked, what good will it do you to worry his sister ?”

‘‘Who’s running this steamboat?” snarled Turell.

* You are—or ‘Old Smoothy.’ ”

“Then don’t ask foolish questions. T will tell this much,
however, on general principles. There is another and a
powerful reason why Adelia Mayne should temporarily
absent herself from the society of her friends and the gaze
of the public. Her brother’s quietus does not settle the
business by a long way. Now, that’s all I have to Bay.
You carry out my orders and leave the reasons to me.’

The man thus addressed said no more, and after some
further conversation, in which the details of the plan of
abduction were arranged, they parted with the under-
standing that the job was to be consummated at midnight.

Two blocks beyond, in across street, was the lodging-
house in which Adelia Mayne was domiciled.

She found herself much stronger after the visit of her
brother and Corinne Dayton, and close upon midnight,
when she was in a deep, refreshing slumber, aman in a
slouch hat and wearing an old army overcoat. softly
ascended the stairs, and halting infront of the door of
her apartment listened intently.

The deep, peaceful breathing of the sleeper continued.

Then this yan, sent by Sidney Turell on a dastardly
errand, did a strange thing.

With his knees on the floor and his eyes uplifted, he
reverently whispered these words:

“Heaven watch over you, my sister, and protect you
from all harm.”

Five minutes later the detective, Manton Mayne, with
his master-stroke yet to play, went down the stairs alone.

CHAPTER XXVII.
TURNING THE TABLES.

Sidney Turell had been tricked, and the detective had
accomplished his purpose in the following manner :

When, in the darkness of the room opening out of the
saloon, the barkeeper, in mistake, had brought his club
down with deadly effect upon the head of Mark Holbun,
that worthy had fallen toward the alley door, and the
knife with which he had punctured Sidney Turell’s arm
had dropped from his fingers.

In the semi-darkness, in which the art of binding
‘Manton Mayne had been accomplished, the weapon had
escaped unnoticed.

Besides the villains were too greatiy excited and ee
ried to pay attention to anything but the living form of
_ their powerful and relentless enemy.
een the eas: had been peeaialy bound he found

 

that one of his hands rested on something conn
and hard.
It was He blade of Holbun’s knife.

This done he arranged the severed ends so as to cone
them from view when he should be lifted, ‘end then cae

terfered with. :

When he was left alone in the ruins of the brick buila-
ing with the man who had been employed to put him out
of the way, he watched his opportunity for effective \
action.

The time arrived, and Manton Mayne was equal to the
emergency.

As the man with the evil face was in the act of placing
the bull’s-eye lantern on the floor by the side of his in-.
tended victim the detective reached out his hands,
grasped the villain by the legs, and threw him over.

His feet were still bound, but with. the advantage he
now possessed he thought nothing of being thus handi-
capped.

When the would-be murderer fell Mayne drew himbene
forward with almost as much celerity as if all his limbs
were unfettered, and winding his strong fingers about. the... |
prostrate man’s neck choked him until his face grew
black and his eyes fairly started from their sockets. '

Then removing his hands quickly he as rapidly drew
the knife from his victim’s belt and cut the cords that
confined his feet. _

It was a full minute before the murderous agent of
Turell was able to appreciate the situation.

When he did awake to a realizing sense of his failure.
Manton Mayne had utilized the cords that had shortly ss
before served a less righteous purpose.

The detective worked rapidly, and attired in the evil-
featured man’s army overcoat, and with the black hat
drawn down on his forehead as far as possible he soon
started for the blind alley.

The man who had been vanquished was smooth- faced.
So was Mayne.

Rubbing some brick dust over his cheeks and about his
eyes, as he stepped out of the ruins, made him feel fairly
confident that in the semi- -darkness he would be able is
pass for the person he proposed, for justice sake, to pér-”
sonate.

He felt highly elated at this moment, for he had made a
ten-strike in the saloon.

As soon as he had downed Sidney Turell in the darkness _
he deftly abstracted the rascal’s pocket-book, the bulky
size of which induced him to believe that it contained
money in notes, and probably a part, if not. the whole, of
the plunder taken from the person of Colonel Coleraine.

But he had no time now to verify his joyful suspicions,

The relations concerning the mysterious personage re-
ferred to as “ Old Smoothy” induced him to make some
change in his plans.

When he rejoined Turell at the mouth of the alley it
was with the resolve not to arrest him until he had run
down the man who had sent the ruffian to the saloon to.
aid in the abduction of his sister. me

Something told him that the arrest of “Old Smoothy,’ ”

even upon a charge of criminal conspiracy, though it Sy

might not eventually hold water, through lack of proof, ©
might materially assist in tightening the coils about Loe
murderer of Colonel Coleraine.

To jail Turell at once might scare “Old Smoothy,”
cause him to leave the State.

When Mayne left Corinne’s husband at the lumber we
he saw that he had two hours at his disposal, for mid-_
night had been fixed as the time for the abduction. nae

He crossed the street with the ostensible purpose of get-
ting the bearings of the lodging-house, but when once out
of sight of Turell he turned back quickly, and hee to”
shadow that precious reprobate.

The work was not difficult. ae

To his delight his quarry did not go in the direction ,
the saloon.

GO rina etna Tos

 
   

No. 189

oe

 

 

{once

After trailing him half a dozen blocks into the business
part of the Mission he saw him engage in conversation
with a hackman, and soon after enter the vehicle to be
driven off toward San Francisco.

With a heart buoyant with hope Mayne hurried back to
the saloon.

_ It was closed.

-~* Again luck had favored him.

He had the bull’s-eye lantern, given to “Smoothy’s”
emissary by Turell, and he speedily found the room in the
ruins where he had left his victim.

The man was still there.

‘*Hor the love of Heaven,” he groaned, when the rays
of the lantern were flashed in his face, “let me out of this.
The cords are killing me. I believe I’m paralyzed.”

“You ought to be paralyzed,” was the unsympathizing
reply, ‘for all the wickedness you’ve done. But I will be
easier with you than you deserve.”

With these words he cut the cords that bound the fel-
low’s feet, and then, with his knees on his breast, per-
formed the same operation about the wrists.

: This done, he handcuffed the wretch and assisted him to

is feet.

‘what's your name?” he sternly demanded, as the

Jd-be assassin stood tremblingly before him.
¥ dail Dobb.”

“Well, then, Bill Dobb, we will take a walk,” and he
marched him out.

That night, after an exceedingly interesting conversa-
tion with the detective, Mr. Dobb found needed rest in a
cell in the city prison.

His last words to Manton Mayne were :

“Tl do it, if you will keep your promise.”

“J am a man of my word,” was the answer.

After leaving the prison Mayne took out the pocket-
book he had filched from the person of Sidney Turell and
began an examination of its contents.

An exclamation of delight fell from his lips, when he
realized the importance of the “ find.”

_ The evidence of the guilt of Corinne’s husband was now

| / before him.

' In the pocket-book were bank-notes of the value of ten
thousand dollars, and the numbers showed that upon the
forenoon of the military reception they had been the

_ property of Colonel Coleraine.

       
       
    
      
        
    
   
     
     
    
    
   
    
      
     
    
      
      
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

Ww

 

\ s

Ja

CHAPTER XXVIII.
“OLD SMOOTHY” LOCATED.

Manton Mayne, after leaving the City Hall, hurriedly
returned to the Mission.
He arrived at the lodging-house a few minutes before

midnight.
_. When he returned to the sidewalk, after the visit to the
room of his sister, his plan of action was fully matured.

He thought he saw daylight and victory in the distance.

Sidney Turell, standing in front of a covered carriage
drawn up to the curb, was awaiting him in anxious ex-
pectancy.

When he saw the false Bill Dobb, he started in sur-
@ prised disappointment and chagrin.
Poe What!” he hoarsely, ejaculated.
7. ceeded 2”
> “No,” in sullen wrath, “she was not alone. There were
two other womenin the room. If you think I’m ‘filling’
- you, go up and see for yourself.”
“No, I don’t care to do that,” for Turell now reposed
' the utmost confidence in the detective. “ But,” he added,
“this is a pretty how-do-you-do. What’s to be done?
What will ‘Old Smoothy’ say.”

“If you will let me put in my lip,” remarked the latter,
I say, hunt up ‘Old Smoothy’ to-night, and follow his
dvice. If he shall say, make a raid and waltz in on
hree petticoats, instead of one, I’m with you. With the
help of a couple of laddy-bucks like you and ‘Smoothy,’
the snap ought to be worked.”

Turell scowled.

“No, it won’t do; but,” nervously, “something must be
one, andina hurry. That’s what.”

He pondered a moment, and then continued :

 
 

    
     

 
 

“You have not suc-

 
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
 
 

THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

 

 

“T’ll try and find the old man to-night, though I don’t
think I can reach him. Isaw him an hour ago, met him
when I went to town, but where he is now the old Nick
only knows. But,” meaningly, “it will be worth your
while to hunt me up in the morning.”

“Where will I find you?”

Turell named a certain place on Brannan street.

“Itis over asaloon, and the number of the room is
fifty,” he added.

The detective felt that a chance was slipping away from
him.

A delay, even until daylight, might threaten disaster to
his plans.

He fidgeted.a moment, and then suggested :

“But if you should meet ‘Old Smoothy’ to-night, might
you not want me? The gal may be scooted out of the way-
to-morrow, for there’s no telling what she may do, if, as
you say, she is dangerous.”

“That’s so, my man. Your head is pretty level.”

“Well, then, you’re dead right. .My head is level, be-
cause it’s my head, and Iam looking out for William.
Just put this in your pipe and smoke it, that I want this
biz settled as soon as possible, so I can light out for Mex-
ico. That’s what ails me, boss.”

Turell looked at him critically.

“Vou’re talking sense,” said he. “I believe you can see
clearer than I can,” continued the utterly befooled rascal.
“Meet me at Room 50, in two hours, and I will see what
I can turn up in the meantime.”

They parted, Turell jumping into the carriage, and
Manton Mayne making his way down the street on foot.

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning when he stood
in front of a small, weather-beaten building, a relic of the
days of ’49, on Brannan strees, the place appointed for the
rendezvous.

Creeping softly up the stairs, he found Room 50, which
was at the extreme rear, the window overlooking a large
yard filled with tin cans, boxes, and all sorts of refuse.

Through the keyhole he saw there was a light in the
room, and presently the sound of voices showed that the
apartment was not unoccupied.

Two men were engaged in conversation, carried on in
low tones.

Mayne could see Turell, but his companion occupied @
position out of range of the detective’s vision.

Turell appeared to be both frightened and angry.

“My pocket-book has been stolen, with the ten thou-
sand. I must have been crazy not to have discovered the
loss before.”

“The detective stole it,” suggested the other, just above
a whisper. “But if he is dead, you can go back to the
place and recover it.”

‘Unless Bill Dobb corraled it.”

“We will know all about that when he turns up, if he
ever does.”

“T don’t think he went through Mayne,” returned
Turell, as he reviewed the situation with more compla..
cency ; “he did not have time.”

“But this woman business’—and now the voice of the
other occupant of the room seemed strangely familiar
“vou made a botch of it.asI thought you would. You
never could be trusted.”

‘A boteh of it!” ‘Turell indignantly responded. “Do
you call salting Manton Mayne’s bacon making a botch of
it on .

“Ves: for his sister lives, and there’s no telling when
her keen intelligence will not give the right clew.”

“But who will she open up to?” asked the other.

“To the chief of police, you fool, or some other detec-
tive. Do you suppose she will keep from Corinne Dayton
what she knows, or what she may suspect? Are you s0
blind, so dull-witted, as to imagine that the death of Man-
ton Mayne ends the hunt for the truth? Bah! you have
lost your head.”

The speaker, as he uttered these words in accents Of
supreme disgust, arose and began to pace the floor.

As he passed the door, the detective caught a glimpsé
of his face.

He was tall. with white hair and long, white whiskers.

 

“*O}ld Smoothy,’ as sure as fate,” he chuckled. “The
game is in my own hands at last. Now to close in,”

  
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Retreating noiselessly, he reached the sidewalk in a
highly satisfied frame of mind.
CHAPTER XXIX.
TRAPPED AT LAST.

When Manton Mayne stepped on the sidewalk, after his
important discovery in Room 50, an expression of grim de-
termination, mingled with deep exultation, rested upon |
his handsome countenance.

He did not leave the vicinity of tha stair-way, but
waited impatiently until the policeman on that beat; put in
an appearance.

Accosting the night guardian of the peace, and making
himself known, he requested him, on behalf of the chief
of police, in whose interest he was acting, to take a mes-
sage at once to the City Hall.

The policeman made no objection.

Then, by the friendly aid of a gas-light, he wrote a short
but explicit note of instructions, and handed it to the offi-
cer, with the request that he deliver it into the hands of
the captain of police as soon as possible.

The policeman, who had heard of Mayne, and had great
respect for his abilities as ‘a detective, sped down the
street like a deer.

Our hero waited for his return in feverish suspense.

Ever and anon he would cast a troubled glance up the
stairs, in the fear that Turell and his mysterious compan-
ion might take a notion to come down.

His mind, however, was fully made up, in the event of
their departure from the room, to make the attempt to
arrest them both single-handed.

But luckily for his plans, they remained where he had
left them.

The policeman was gone about half an hour, and re-
turned with the captain of police, a squad of officers, and
Bill Dobb.

The latter had entered inte an agreement with the de-
tective, after he had been locked up, to betray his two
employers, on condition that he should not be presecuted
for his attempt at murder at the Mission.

With the odds so largely in favor of the officers, there
was no likelihood that he would prove talse to the trust
that was about to be reposed in him.

A short, subdued conversation near the stair-way, and
the squad divided, three experienced and resolute officers
to find their way by means of an alley to the yard back
of the building which held the detective’s quarry.

Then, when matters had been fully arranged, Bill Dobb,
attired once more in the army overcoat, and with the
slouch hat on his head, ascended the stairs and knocked
softly at the door of Room 50.

When the detective saw that he had been admitted, he
cautiously followed, in his stocking feet.

The captain of police and three policemen, who re-

mained, took ‘similar precautions, and successfully
* brought up the rear.
On the entrance of Bill Dobb—Turell had been expect-
ing him for some time—the conspirators, with voices
raised, held an interesting conversation, every word of
which was heard by the listening man-hunter.

“So you did find your Injun?” Dobb said to the husband
of Corinne, as he jerked his thumb in, the direction of the
white-whiskered man of mystery. “It’s lucky I put it in
your knob to make this appointment.”

“Yes, I found him by a piece of good luck.” ,

~““Old Smoothy,” who was sitting on the bed, now put in
a word :

“You are sure Manton Mayne was dead when you left
him ?”

“He'll never wake until the last trump. After I pricked
him, I raised a monument over his body in the shape of a
pile ‘of brick.”

“You must have worked with swiftness.”

“You bet your bottom dollar I did. I wanted to get out
of there, I can tell you.”

“Tam really sorry.” observed the old one, with an ex-
pression of sadness, which might have been simulated,

“that extreme measures were resorted to; but’”—with a
sigh—“TI suppose it had to be done. With Manton Mayne}
alive, our safety would be coe imperiled.”

 

Sidney Turell, who had been itching to ask a question,
now burst out: :

“Did you find anything on the detective’s person ”

“Find anything? No; I didn’t go through him. I was —
in too big a hurry to eet out of the cursed hole—ugh!” ©
and be made a gesture of horror. e

‘‘Will you excuse me?” said “Old Smoothy,” in nee
blandest voice, as he stood before the traitor; and upon |
the words he deftly searched Bill Dobb’s person, much to —
that individual’s fear and astonishment. oe

“No,” as he concluded; “I think the fellow has spoken
the truth. x Be

“He might have hidden the plunder,” suggested Turell. —

“No, he did not,” in a tone of conviction. ‘

“Why are you so positive ?”

“Bevause, if he had captured such a big stake, do you
think he would have shown up here to-night ?”

This argument was unanswerable.

Sidney Turell looked at the old man admiringly.

“You area daisy! You never make a niistake !” was.
his flattering commentary.

“Yes, Ido. I have made one to-night.”

“Tn what respect ?”

“By not taking a hand in this affair myself.
much to other’s intelligence, and to chance.”

“T beg your pardon, gents,” interposed BiJl Dobb; “but = §
Icame here on business. If you need me, chin; if you. .
don’t, I°ll mosey.” :

“You, have asked a leading question,” rejoined the
smooth one, bending a contemplative look on the man.
“But itshall be answered. We do need your esteemed
services !”

“On the gal racket ?”

‘On the gal racket, I presume, if you have reference to
the young lady at the Mission. You failed last night—or ~
to-night, for it yet lacks two hours of daylight—because ©
you unexpectedly found she had company. Now, to my
discerning mind—excuse the egotism, Tur ell—she is not |
likely to have company at this hour in the morning; or,
to face the situation in its worst aspect, if she is enter-
taining two visitors of her own sex’ at the present time, it.
is extremely unlikely that any of them will be awake.
So, if three determined,’ muscular men--I am old, my
friend, but my biceps have not yet lost their cunning
force—if three men, I say, cannot overcome three weak,
sleep-crippled women, then it is about time to call a halt,
and apply for admission into the Home for the Feeble- ©
Minded, at Santa Clara.”

To this satirical speech, Bill Dobb vouchsafed no reply.

Asa matter of fact. he had nothing to say.

He was thinking of the detective outside, and of the |
probable outcome of. this interesting conversation.

‘‘Old Smoothy” proceeded :

“We will chloroform every person we may find in the
room, and if my directions shall be followed, we will
carry off Miss Adelia Mayne without making any noise,
or running the slightest risk.”

“Tt is none of my business,” now spoke up Dobb; “but
I’d like to know what makes you so dead set against the
detective’s sister.”

‘It 7s none of your business,” was the cool reply, “and
therefore what you would like to know you are not likely
to find out while your aged uncle is on deck.”

“Suit yourself, captain; I only asked,” in a disap- *’
pointed tone. a

“A friend of mine was once asked a question,” pursued.
this consummate scoundrel with the white whiskers, | . “and -
what do you think was his answer ?”

“T give it up.”

“Tt was ‘not guilty, your Honor.’ ”

Sidney Turell laughed.

“I don’t see anything funny in that,” said Dobb., who
now began to exhibit signs of uneasiness.
“Not in the answer, certainly not.

cropped out in the sequel.”

‘““ How so?”

“He was hanged.”

Bill Dobb was now standing close to the s0un a with
his back to it.” et

The time for action had arrived. oe

eee the mou quiet he shouted :

1 left too

The funny part.

f

 
 

 

 

 
     
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
   
 

 

  

oo HE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

 

 

 

 

 

“Now—may they haiig you !” |The proofs are on my person in the shape of ten thousand
And MantoneWMayne, closely followed by the four offi- dollars in bank-notes, the number of every one of which
cers, entered the room. was taken by George Benton before they passed into the
Befére the conspirators could recover from their aston- hands of Colonel Coleraine. But I am wasting time in
ishment, each was covered by a revolver. arguing with you. We’ve got you foul, and if Turell
The game was up. | swings—and he surely will—you shall pass the remainder
“Old Smoothy” had missed another trick. Lo your life behind bolts and bars.”

The red-haired husband of the beautiful Corinne gave
vent to a yell of terror at this fiercely uttered speech.

In imagination he saw the gallows before him, and he
CHAPTER XXX. | began to.experience a peculiar choking sensation.
| He gasped, caught the bedpost for support, and then,
before the officers coula make a move: to close in, yelled

Sidney Turell’s white-haired confederate had not spoken with all his might:
half a dozen words after the entrance of Bill Dobb—his “No, no; you shall not hang me. I didn’t do it. TI
voice being louder and more distinct than on the occasion didn’t doit. Iam innocent, 1 tell you, I ara innocent.
of the detective’s first appearance as eavesdropper at the There,” pointing with shaking fingers at the man with the

The prince of rascals had been caught in a trap at last.

 

THE MURDERER UNMASKED.

door—before Manton Mayne turned ashy pale. . white whiskers, “there stands the murderer! I know it,
As the conversation proceeded, and “ Old Smoothy’s and I ean prove it !”
voice became. clearer and clearer, the detective’s agita- But he was never given an opportunity.

tion increased, until,in an agony of mind, he arose to his — As the terrible accusation was made, the man whose
feet, and, leaning heavily against the casing, looked at life it affected, disregarding the presence and attitude of
the captain of police with an expression that caused that the officers, drew a pistol and fired at Turell’s head.

worthy official to start forward, and whisper, anxiously: , The bullet sped on its fatal mission, and entered the
“What is it? Has a mistake been made?” brain of Colonel Coleraine’s graceless step-gon.

“Yes, and no,” was the hoarse answer. | Death was instantaneous.

“Shall we remain ?” : Swift upon the report of the pistol, the captain of police,

“Yes—yes ;” and the brave detective waved his coad- who had joined the detective in guarding “Old Smoothy,”
jutor away, as if the subject was too painful for him to made an unexpected movement. :
discuss. He fired on the impulse of the moment, and when the

Our hero had received a terribe blow,but as he thought gmoke cleared away, the man with the white whiskers
of what had occurred, and of those he loved, his heart gtaggered, and then slowly sank to the floor, wounded

hardened and his self-possession returned. unto death.

But he was about to perform one of the most painful Manton Mayne, after the first start of surprise, sprang
and disagreeable acts of his life. forward and bent over the prostrate form.

There was no help for it, however. With arapid movement, he tore the false whiskers from

_ When Bill Dobb unlocked the door and gave the signal, the wounded man’s face.
Manton Mayne and the officers bounded into the apart- He was not surprised at the change that was presented.
ment. For he lodked down upon the ghastly countenance of
Covering the man with the white whiskers, our hero Frank Locumb.
shouted, in deadly earnetness :
“One move to draw a weapon, and your life pays the
forfeit !” CHAPTER XXXII.
“Old Smoothy” was no longer smooth.
His teeth chattered, and he looked at Mayne asif he

 

EXIT THE PRINCE OF RASCALS,

saw an avenging ghost. | The words uttered in the room while the detective lis-
“Not dead !” he hoarsely articulated. -tened at the door, had left no doubt in his mind as to the
“No, not dead, but no thanks to you. Up with your identity of the white-whiskered companion of Sidney
hands !” Turell.

Sidney Turell, as if this command was directed to him, But the captain of police was thunderstruck when the
threw up his hands, and looked the picture of abject con- disguise was removed.
sternation and terror. | “Frank Locumb! Heaven and-earth! is it possible?”

But his confederate was made of sterner stuff. | Yes, it was possible, and it was true.

Overcoming his astonishment and trepidation by a The murderer of Colonel Coleraine was the debonair
powerful effort of the will, he spoke, with assumed friend of Manton Mayne.
bravado: Lifting the body up, and resting the head upon his

“Quite an elegant comedy, this. Yes,” looking around knee, the detective, with emotions impossible to describe,
the threatening circle with a supercilious sneer, ‘‘quite gazed anxiously into the face of the man who had so
an interesting tableau. Will the gentlemanly stage man- cruelly deceived him.
ager”—bowing to Mayne—“be so kind asto informus The dark eyes opened at last, and a bitter smile cutled
more particularly as to its meaning ?” about the pale lips, as he recognized his old-time friend.

“It means, you devil in human shape, that your career “The hand of fate, eh?” he huskily uttered. ‘“ Bound
is ended for a while.” to come sooner or later, I suppose.”

“And of whatam I accused ?”—with a poor attempt at It needed but a glance to show that his hours of life
calmness, for his coolness had again deserted him. were numbered. uy

“You are accused of complicity in a murder, of being The bullet-had entered the breast, and reached a vital
the accomplice of Sidney Turell in the killing of Colonel part.

Coleraine.” | §tanching the wound with his handkerchief, Mayne

The words of the detective, uttered with stern impres- gave Locum) a sip of brandy from a flask in the posses
Siveness, sent a thrill of terror through “Old Smoothy’s” sion of the captain of police.

brain. | When he had drank the liquor, he said, with forced

He started, changed color, and turned his eyes to the calmness:
floor. “Tt’s all up with me. I knowit. I played and lost.”

But he.was not beaten yet. “Yes,” was the solemn response, “you have but.a short

His active mind was soon at work again. ‘time to live.”

“TI think you will discover that you are laboring under ‘And the proper caper, I suppose,” as his voice grew
asad mistake,” he said. “If Sidney Turell is the mur- clearer from the effect of the stimulant, and a scintilla of
derer, you will find it up-hill work to prove that I had his old superciliousness manifested itself even in the face
anything to do with the affair.” of death, “is to make a confession; relieve my mind, as

“Tf Sidney Turell is the murderer!” exclaimed Manton it were, and satisfy the absorbing curiosity of the min-
Mayne, in tones of triumph. “I know he is the murderer. ions of the law, and the community in general.”

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No. 199,

 

 

 

 

“Don’t, Frank, for your soul’s sake, don’t talk in that
way,” entreated the detective. “Can’t you understand
' that you are standing on the verge of eternity. Don’t you
yealize all that death implies?”

“Release, that’s all. It’s too late to preach, Mant, too
tate,”

The face took on a look of gravity, a sigh followed, and
be gasped for breath,

Another sip of brandy was administered.

_ “Frank,” urged the detective, “it will ease your mind
to tell the truth. How could you, oh, how could you com-
gait such a monstrous deed ?”

Locumb looked steadily at the wall for a moment.

Then he slowly said :

“ZT killed him because I wanted money ; because my
whole life has been one of deceit and shame. You shall
have my story,” a change coming over him, as if he al-
weady felt the workings of dissolution, “though I know
you will execrate my memory. when | am dead.”

His head was lifted higher, and a pillow from the bed
placed behind it.

The dying man then began his awful narrative, speak-
img sometimes clearly, sometimes with difficulty, and re-
lheved now and then by the stimulant.

“My: parents died when I was very young, and an uncle
educated me. He was not a moralist, and only smiled,

knowingly, when he heard of my wild courses. *You’re
sowing your wild oats, Frank,’ he would say. ‘When
you are through, you will settle down asI did.’ He died

jast after I left college. I soon squandered the small for-
tune he left me, and then, having acquired a distaste for
work, was forced to live by my wits.

“Several years.ago, inan Eastern city, I became ac-
guainted with Sidney Turell and his mother. The young-
ater was sadly deficient in morals, and he had but a modi-
¢um of intelligent common sense. But I found him of
some use asa convenient tool. When he went to Phila-
@elphia with his mother, for the purpose of preventing
the marriage of your sister and Colonel Coleraine, I ac-
eompanied him. I saw your sister several times.
were never introduced, but I am satisfied she knew mé as
he friend of.the colonel’s step-son.”

“Then that explains why you wanted to abduct her?”
pat in the detective.

“Ves. I had worked my points so carefully that I
@hought there was absolutely no chance of detection. But
when I learned through Turell, who kept a close espionage
an his wife, at my direction, that your sister was in San
Brancisco, I became alarmed, lest she should see, recog-
mize me, and gain an inkling of the truth. The fact that
wou, her brother, was engaged in the work of unraveling
“Ghe mystery, but served to make me more determined
fhan ever to get her out of the way, until I had placed an
@ceau between me and America. The China steamer sails
disree days hence.. But for this accident, I might have
lbeen a passenger, and thus escaped your vengeance.”

“No, Frank, you could not have escaped me,” was the
Bow reply, “for I would have followed you all over the
world, sooner than have given up the case.”

Manton Mayne was not given to boasting.

He meant what he said.

The dying murderer smiled queerly, and then resumed
this story.

‘“Mrell was in Grass Valley when the agreement for
the sale of the Benton mine to Colonel Coleraine was
made. He learned it in a casual way—for it is hard to
keew such‘a large transaction a secret in a small town—
and he follewed Benton to San Francisco in the hope that
chanee might help him to capture the fifty thousand dol-
Jars. But Benton was never alone, and Turell had t6, give
np his idea. He informed me of the facts, but made no

suggestions, for it never entered his head that I would)

plan to secure the money.

“When he had gone, I could think of nothing but the
money. I was about strapped, and King Faro is a very
@eceitful monarch. It did not occur to me at once that
here was any chance to carry out my design, but when it
#hought of the ‘grand military parade that had been ar-
ranged for the next day, and of the fact that the banks
grould be closed. I determined to watch for and seize the

eas

We!

epportunity that might be presented. I had sometimes for I felt assured that the ownership would never be

—* to resort to a disguise, that of an old man. I always
carried the wig and whiskers about my person. Before I
met you at the —— Hotel, I had learned that Benton had
paid over the money to Colonel Coleraine. I was prepar-
Ing to secure it, when you approached. You remember
our conversation, and the balcony incident don’t you 2”

“Yes, perfectly, but I can’t see——”

“You will see,” Locumb interrupted, ‘when I demon-
strate to you how easily it was done.”

revelation.

“When the colonel left the balcony to re-enter his
apartment, we were standing at the.edge of the sidewalk,
if you remember. When he passed from sight, I felt that
the time for action had come. We tried to regain our
former position in the vestibule, and were separated in
the crowd.”

“Yes, yes.”

‘The separation was of my own doing. I seized the op-
portunity chance offered, and gaining the stair-way, hur-
ried to Colonel Coleraine’s-room. At the head of tt.e
stairs, I glanced’ back to see if I had been observed. No
one was looking in my direction. Every eye was riveted
on the procession. The corridor was deserted. Every cir-
cumstanee was in my favor. At the dvor of the colonel’s
room, I whisked out my disguise, put it on, removed my
hat, then cautiously turned the knob, and peered in. The
colonel was sitting in a chair by the open window, appa-
rently asleep. I stole along the wall and got behind him.
There was but one course. to- take.
the notes, he might awaken, there would be a struggle,
and probable detection. I took no chances, but with a dag-
ger I had purvhased some time before, I stabbed him to
the heart.”

The detective groaned and averted his eyes.

“To remove the pocket-book, assure myself that the
notes were there, and make my escape, was the work of
a moment. The whole affair did) not occupy three min-
utes. On returning tothe corridor, which was still de-
serted, I removed my disguise. Then I approached the
head of the stairs and looked down. Every head was
turned to the street, the bands were playing, and the peo-
ple were cheering. The conditions for me could not pos-
sibly have been more favorable.

‘‘} reached the vestibule with swiftness and caution,
and mingled with the crowd on the sidewalk. Once there,
I became alarmed for the first time. My face might be-
tray me, for the cold perspiration had started from every
| pore. The devil must. have prompted the move that
ishould effect my temporary salvation. I shoved against
the fellow in the Scotch tweed suit, and when he turned I
‘knocked him down. Then when I appeared before you a
;moment afterward in a state of excitement, I knew I had
an explanation ready.”

The detective shuddered in horror at this revelation of
cold-blooded villainy, of Satanic audacity and cunning.

Another swallow of brandy, and Locumb continued his
terrible recital.

“J had always regarded myself as superior to the com-
mon herd of rascals, and when we resumed our conver-
sation less than ten minutes after it had been interrupted,
I had already evolved a plan of operations that promised
to completely coverup my tracks. I jumped at your
proposal to go to Colonel Coleraine’s room. I was anxious
for an introduction.”

 

fiendishness of the conduct of the man he had once called
his friend.

“Ves, I dare say,” remarked the dying assassin: “but I
always was a cool one, and now”—he shivered slightly—
“T suppose I have to answer for my lack of feeling.”

Manton Mayne made no reply.

“T knew,” proceeded Locumb, after a painful pause,
“that if I went with you to the room, that if the first dis-
covery of what had been done was then and there made, I
would be likely to be the last man in the world on whom
suspicion would rest. And I was right. The disappear-
ance of the dagger mystified. but did not frighten me,

 

found it necessary in my business”—with a curious smile |

Manton Mayne listened in breathless attention for the | (

 

If I attempted to steal *

‘‘Horrible, horrible!” gasped the detective, at the utter —

  
 
  

 

   
  
  
 
  
  
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

    
    
   

 
 
  

 

 

 

 

No. 199.

 

traced to me. I did not remove it from the body, for the
reason that it would be in the way, and the blood——”

“Say no more on that subject—I understand,” hastily
interrupted the detective, who was now anxious that the
awful confession should be finished as soon as possible.

“On my way to the City Hall to carry out your instruc-
tions, I entered a saloon and got a ‘bracer’ for my nerves.
In arear room, secure from observation, I took out the
pocket-book to assure myself that the plunder was safe.
In so doing, I came upon the envelope with the theater
tickets. On the instant, the idea of directing suspicion to
an.annocent panty guggested itself. After I left the saloon,
i watched my chance, and dropped the envelope on the
‘sidewalk. Without looking baek,.-I hurried to the office of
the chief of police, and on my return went to the Grand
Opera House to learnif my scheme had as yet borne fruit.
You know how that episode terminated.”

Mayne said nothing. _

But the look of horrified astonishment had intensified.

“After that,’’ Locumb resutmed, “I acted with all the
circumspection and finesse I was capable of. I ordered
Turell to keep out of my way in the day-time, but made
appointments for meeting at night. He never knew of my
complicity in the killing until the day after he captured
fifty-dollar bank-note.”

“Did you give it to him?” asked the detective, in some
surprise, for it seemed as if a weak spot in Locumb’s
armor was about to be exposed.

“No, I did not. I may be all that’s bad, but no one ever
accused me of being a fool. I was fingering the notes in
my room one evening when he burst in upon me. In
hastily concealing them, one dropped, unnoticed, to the
floor. Turell saw and picked it up when my attention was
diverted. When you tried to arrest him on Jackson street,
he. thought the bill was a counterfeit ; but later, from cer-
tain suspicions that he had formed, he accused me of the
murder. I either had to admit the truth, or make a dan-
gerous enemy. I was idiot enough to choose the former
course, and then he demanded ten thousand dollars ‘as the
price of his silence. I gave him the money, but. after-
ward,” grimly, “I made him work for it.

“Corinne Dayton’s strange actions bothered me consid-
erably, and on reflection I became convinced that she had
made the first discovery of the murder. You kept me
pretty well posted, and on the afternoon of the day of the

 

tragedy, when Turell, to my disgust and fear, accosted |

me on the street and received his orders to keep his dis-
tance in future, his wife passed us. I appreciated the
gravity of the situation, for I was fearful that her sus-
picions might be turned in my direction, and chafing also
at what threatened to be your intimacy with her, I had
her closely watched. , That very evening, when she deliv-
ered the note to the errand boy on 0’Farrell street, I, my-
self, in disguise, knocked you down and secured the note
and bracelet. The latter I sent back to you, for I had no
use for it, and besides, I wanted it to serve my purpose in
getting Corinne out of the way.”

“Then her abduction was planned by you?”

“Of course.. I planned everything, except bringing you
here to-night. You see, the note she sent you puzzled me,
but I determined to take no risk, and her abduction fol-
lowed. I trusted to the magic of your name to bring her
out, and I was not deceived. She arrived on time at the
Broadway crib, and was gathered in without any trouble.
But I soon afterward found that I had taken a useless
precaution. The conversation in the hack after leaving
Baden, showed me that she could not remember where she
had seen me before. Having nothing further to fear from
her, I readily complied with your wishes, and you found
her at the —— Hotel when you returned from your un-
successful pursuit of Turell across the bay.”

Manton Mayne was once more interested, now that the
story was being directed into less ghastly channels. He
was about to ask a question, but Locumb, as if he divined
it, went on: .

“When the shots were fired over the hill, I became
alarmed, for I did not want you to capture Turell. If you
had killed him, I never would have complained, but his
arrest might mean my detection. Therefore I left Miss
Dayton to the care of the hackman, and hurried in your
direction, determined, if the circumstances warranted the

THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY

31

 

ls

action, to kill you. But chance favored.you Turell. e¢
oe and I returned, in a satisfied frame of mind, to the
city. :

“ After that I watched the game closely. I pretended fe
be in love with Corinne, and ‘appeared to assist you, wher -
in reality I was assisting myself. I had known all your
plans, except the one which sent you to the Mission last :
caoy and. that lack of knowledge has\brought me te

18. (-

His voice had gradually been growing fainter.

* You will find—the rest—of the notes—in my—my———".

A gurgling in the throat prevented the completion «of
the sentence.

A moment later, and Manton Mayne laid the dead bedw
of the murderer on the floor. A

* + * * * * * *

The remainder of the bank-notes were found sewed np
'in the lining of the dead man’s vest.

It was daylight when Manton Mayne, utterly exhausted,
and with a heart like lead, left the scene of death and ne
paired to his lodging-house. :
| But he could not sleep, try as. he would, and the sim
| was not three hours high, before he was dressed and ew
| the street.
| His first visit was to his sister.
| She was found in a most favorable condition, and
| seemed to gain new strength after her brother’s importameé
| revelations.
|. Frank Loecumb’s fears in regard to her knowledge of
| him were groundless.
| She had no remembrance of the man who had accom
| panied Sidney Turell to Philadelphia.
| Corinne Dayton already knew of the strange and tragiz
events of the night—for such news travels fast—when the
detective called upon her.
|. They had much to say to each other, and parted warm
(friends.
| This feeling was destined in time to merge into some
| thing warmer and more tender and gracious, and whem
-a year had elapsed, the beautiful heiress became the wife
'of the handsome and brave-hearted ex-detective.
| For the death of Frank Locumb, and the unraveling of
the mystery surrounding the murder of Colonel Colerainge,

terminated his career as a man-hunter,

He had abundant means of his own, and a trip t
Europe, which lasted two years, was undertaken immedi-
-ately after the marriage.

Adelia Mayne recovered her health, but she has never
married.

In deeds of charity and benevolence, she is using Ge
\fortune bequeathed her by Colonel Coleraine, and the jow
|of doing good to others has long since chased the clouds
| of sorrow from her lovely face.

 

[THE END.]

 

“Mp DALTON Boys IN CALIFORNIA; or, A BOLD Horr
i'up at Crres,” by W. B. Lawson, will be published im
‘the next number (200) of the Log Capin Liprary.

 

  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
    
   
   
   
     
   
   
      
     
    
   
   
   
   
   
   
     
     
 

 

 

 

 

‘THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY.

 

 

  

ISSUED EVERY THURSDAY.

 

 

. PRICE, 10 CENTS EACH.

 

 

“No.
: “31—The. Auman ative e;,or, The Elixir of Life. By K. F. Hill.
 32-Ramon Aranda, the California Detective.
eee Road Agents. By Leander P. Richardson.
34 Kentucky Kate: or, The Moonshiners’ League.
By David Lowry.

  

ea ae Singleton; or, Lhe Double Penalty.
36—His Highest Stake. By EdivinS. Deane.
37i—Cy. the Ranger; or, The Red Man’s Terror,
38—Alt, the Chicago Sport.
eee Backstay; or, The Gray Kagle of the Atlantic.
—The Great River Mystery. By Bartley Campbell. ie
—The Stony Point Tragedy. By A. lL. Fogg, ;
The Hattield-McCoy Vendetta; or. Shadowing a Hard Crowd. “
—Red Rude Burrows; or, The Kine of the Outlaws.
44—Pictail Demons; or. The Mongolian Highbinders.
 45—Mountain Tom. A story of the Diamond Fields.
- 46—Gotham by Gaslight; or, Dan MeGinty’s Ups and Downs.
: MeGinty.
47—The Black Riders of Santos; or, The Terror of Wood River.
48—The Ocean Detective: or, The Trail of Death. By Richard J. Storms.
j a Brother's Vow; or, Hunted Down in Arkansas.
1arp
50—Frank joe Jesse James In Mexico; or, Raiders of the Rio Grande,
“5i—Jennie, the Telegraph Operator. -By R. M: Taylor.

J. MeKenzie.
58—Coonskin, the Scout; or, The Prince of Bordermen.
- 54—Jesse James’ Oath; or, Tracked to Death.
—The Stranglers of Ohio: or, A Dark-Lantern League.
$6—A Border Vengeance; or, The Fate of the Regulators.
mond. :
57 Prank James int St. Louis; or, The Mysteries of a G
§8s—Orthodox Jeems.
59—Brotherhood Buck; or, The Players’ League in the South.

Warden.
¢0-—Trackless Terror, the Unknown Avenger. By Roy St. Leger.
g1—Jesse James at Long Branch; or, Playing for a Million.
62—Ramon, the Bull-Fighter; or, The Victim of Fate.
Durivage.
3—The er ehont Afloat; or, The My stery of the Sealed Packet. By J
: Warden
-$41—Kansas Kit; or, The Magician of the Plains. By John F. Cowan.
-~ $5—Play Ball; or. Brotherhood Boys in Florida. By John Warden.
$6—The a of the Prairie; or, The Scout and the Renegade.
: Bi
67—Red Douglass; or, the King of the Black: Forest.
- @68—A Home Run; or, How the Great Game Was Won.
» $9— Looney Lorton; or, The Rose of Sligo. By John F. Cowan.
70—The Rangers of Gold Stream. By M. Silineshy.
51—Jesse James at Coney Island; or, The Wall Street Banker’s Secret.
33-Rover Wild, the Jolly Reefer.
ae es 78—Seven-F oot Bill; or, Lengthy the Seout. By J. C, McKenzie.
or” qi— Jesse James in New York: or, A Pilot to Kidnap Jay Gould.
15—Hazel-Kye, the Girl Trapper.
76—The Black Hand; or, The League of Gold.
» Fi—Squirrel Cap; or, The Ranger of Raccoon Ridge.
38—The Pearl of the Reef; or, The Diver A Daughter,
“33-—Moce asin Mose; or, ‘The Trail of B
“7 “20—Sensation Sate, the Queen of th
si—Beaver Jim; or, The Trail of |
Inesby.
~ $2— Rattlesnake Ned, the

Great Gity.

 
   

    
 
 
  
     
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
    

  

6 Mys elduia Cruiser. By Harry Hazel.

he Mys
or, ‘The M aster Workman’s Vow.

r, The Girl Wrecker. r
Shot. -

mnessy The New Orleans Dagoes.

ountain - of Oregon. By James L, Bowe

ws & (

he Missing Bride.

pacedy; or, Tracing a. .Mysterious Crime.

or, The Magician of the Lakes.

Dsuble: or, The Man froin Missouri.

Sanly; or, Phe Outlaw’s Daughter. By W. H. Bushnell.

By John Warden.

By A.C. Monson. ¥

<

By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

a

roe

By Edwin 8. Deane.
By Harry Temple.

By, pin |
By Jack*

52—Razzle-Dazzle Dick; or, The Fellow Who Lived by His Wits. By Dorkla
By Duke Cuyler.

By Ralph Ray-
By John

By Francis A.

ohn

By Buffaio

By

By John E. Bar-

By Pere

n.
y

By

By P. Hamilton

svt the Burrows Gang; or, Joe Jackson's Last Leap. By Wal-
ye Hawley.
Eoot Wallace, the Giant Hero of the Border.
he Raven of the North; or, The Mysteries of the Isles. By Oll
Coomes.
— Big Foot’s Band; or, Captain Waliace’s Last Charge. By Red Toma-

 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  

hawk.
200— Unmasked at the Matinee.
a01—Jesse James’ Successor: or,
Mink, the Trapper; or, The Daughter of the Brigade.
‘Tray

The Raid-on the South Chicago Bank.
By an

- M4—Jesse James Among the Moonshiners; or, The Train Robber’s Trai
Kentucky.

. 305—The Landlord's Crime; or, The Curse of Innisfail.

' a06—Bold Sitting Bull.

307—Jesse James in Chicago.

 206—The Rising Tide. By John E. Barrett.

Vitus i9— Merciless Ben.
” 440—Jesse Jaines in New Orleans.

33i—The Matfia’s Foe.

- #49—Silver Wing, the Angel of the Tribes. :

- 93—Jesse James on the Mississippi; or, The Duel at Midnight.

 Bis—The Hillsburg Tragedy; or. Murdered for Gold. By John E. Barret.

; ae ack the Ripper in New York; or, Piping a Terrible Mystery.

e* yié—Captain Jack; or, The Seven Scouts.

     
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  

*yaj-—J esse James’ ‘Cave; or, The Secret of the Dead.
‘ws—Du Barry’s Revenge. By Francis A. Durivage.
 9—Buckskin Sam, the Scalp-taker.
a to—Jesse James at Bay; or, The Train Robber’s Trail.
$21—The Revenue Officer’s ‘Triumph; or, The Sunken Treasure.
a ra Face, the Renegade; or, The White Chief of the ee nee
Maurice Silingsby.

 

Old

per
3038— Buffalo Bill at Wounded Knee; or, The Battle-Secret of the Bad Lands.

lin

~ By John E. Barrett.

bt24—
125

sa Midshipman Angus, of H. M.S. Plantagenet.

‘ ji66-—Gray Hawk the Half-Breed ; or, The Strange Captive.
or, The Rivals of The Road. By W.B. Lawson.

No.
123—Rube Burrows’ Pard; or, Chased Through the Florida Sw amps.
‘The Lion’s Leap; or, Harry Brenton, the Sailor’s Adventures with Pi-
rates. By Roger Starbuck,
—The Thunderbolt of the Border; or, Daniel Boone on the War-path.
126—Jesse James in Disguise; or, The Missouri Outlaw as a Showman.
127—Buffaio Bill’s Best Shot.
128—-Buffalo Bill’s Last Victory; or, Dove Eye, the Lodge Queen.
129—Tom ens the Maver oe The Long Island Outlaw.
I. Hawley.
130—The Queen of the Plains; or, Calamity Jane. By Reckless Ralph.
131— Jesse James in Tennessee.
132—Texas Jaek, the White King of the Pawnees.
1883—Rocky Mountain Sam: or, The Wind- Spectre of the Blackfeet.
134— Buftalo Bill’s Best Bower. By E. W. Wheeter.
.135—The Witch of the Ocean; or, The Lady of Silver Spray.
136—Little Buckshot; or. The White W. hirlwind-of the Prairie.
137—Gentleman Joe. By Bob Howard,
138—J esse James Aimone the Mormons. f
-189—Long Mike, the Oregon Hustler.
140—Red Dick, the Tiger of California.
141—Dashing Charlie, the Texan Whirlwind.

143—Maratina, the Female Brigand. By Lieut. Murray.

By Sandy Griswold.

145—Buffalo Bill's Border Bravos. By do. W. Wheeler.

146—Mopte and the Mystic Ten.

147—The Red Skin Renegade; or, The Destroyer of Black Bird’s Band.
John: F. Cowan.

148—Jesse James’ Journey; or, Th

149—Nerle, the Pirate; or, The Tré
Lewis Leon.

150—Rediiona’s Adventures; or, The Treasure of the Lake.

151—Gentleman Joe, the Bonanza King; or, The Belle of Silver Gulch.

152—Buftalo Bill. the Border King; or, The White Queen of the Sioux and the
the Girl Rifle-Shot.

153—Old Luther on Deck; or, The East River Mystery. /

144—Chipmuck the Wyandotte.

By

Prisoner of the Cave.
sure Ship of the Hidden Islands.

Outlaws.

pe oe James in Dakota; or, The Prince of Road Agent's Disguises.
V. B. Lawson. :
156— Ca the Detective; or, Working up a Great Case. By A. Robertson.
163 —Gentleman Joe’s V endetta ; ; or, The Hustlers of Hardscrabble. By

Joseph I. Badger, Jr.
164—Tracked to Kgypt; or, Detective Grimes Abroad. By Aleck Robertson.
Leb see Hunt to Death; or, The Terror of Grizzly Hollow. By W.

Lawson.

By

Wim. Henry Peck.
167— Jesse James Shadow ;
168—Gentleman Joe’s Death Shot; Or, The Road Agents Nemisis. By

Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
169—The Queen of the Canons; Or, The Black Scout of Arizona. By Burke
Brentford.
170 —Detective Grimes’ Triumph; Or, The Successful Ending of a Compli-
sated Case, By Alex Robertson,
171—Polk Wells, Jesse James’ Comrade; Or, The Riverton Bank Robbery.
By W. B. Lawson.
172—Rattlesnake Jiin ; Or, The Reckless Sport of Deadman’s Gulch. By
Walter L. Hawley.
173—Gentleman Joe’s Life Stake; Or, The Vigilantes of Touch-and- Go. By
the author of * Gentleman Joe.”
174 Jesse James Outdone; Or, The Missouri-Pacific Train Robbery. By
W. B. Lawson.
175—Bob Ford, Jesse James’ Slayer; Or, The Life ‘and Death of a Notorious
Outlaw. By W. B. Lawson.
ee oie Johnson,:The Hustler From Beaver Head. By Walter L.
awley.
177—Smoky Jones; Or, The Gold Hunters of Colorado. By E. A. Young.
i Down; or, On the rail For Forty Years. By Francis «a.
urivage.
179—The Mysterious Bed; Or, The Secret Holes in the Wall. By Col: Baker,
‘Ex-Chief of Detectives.
a Dan, The Sport; Or, The Crack Shot of Creede. By Capt. ‘Lew
ames.
181—Gentleman Joe’s Double; or, The Bad Man from Bitter Creek. By the
author of “Gentleman. Joe.”
182 -The Three Detectives Hunt, Hall and Hyde; Or, Working on the Perth
Amboy Mystery. By Capt. Clinch.
1883—A Second Jesse James; Or, The Capture. and Conviction of a Bold
Bank Thief. By W. B. Lawson.
184—The Marked Hand; Or, A Through Ticket to Sing Sing. .By Col.
Baker, Ex-Chief of Detectives.
185—The Dalton Boys; and, The M. K. and T. Robbery. By W. B. Lawson.
186—Crazy Bob, the Terror of Creede; Or, Cool Dan the Sport Again to the
Front. "By Capt. Lew James.
187—Gentleman Joe’s. Pard; Or, The Benefit at Purgatory Point.
author of ‘ Gentleman Joe.”
168—Pool Ticket 025; Or, A Mystery Explained. By Col.
of Detectives.
189—Dave Kenshaw,. Detective; Or. How He Played His Trump Card. By
Robert J. Bangs, Detective.
190—Cool Dan the Sport’s Wonderful Nerve; Or, The Madman’s Matchless
Mine. By Capt. Lew James.
191—The Dalton oye Smooth Trick; Or, The Robbery of the Bank of El
Reno. By W. B. Lawson.
192—Detective a a Detective ; By.
Donald J. McKenzie.

1983—The Collis Express Robbers; Or, Hunting Down Two Desperate Crim-
inalss By Harry Dixey.
By Capt,

By the
Baker, Ex-Chief

Or, Solving a Street-Car Puzzle.

194—The Safe Breakers’ Gane; Or, The Three H.‘s Great Skill.

Clineh.

eae Like the James Boys; Or, Wiped Out by Vigilantes. By, W. B.

4aWSOD

197—The Cooley Gang; Or, A Plucky Sheriff’s Fight to the End. By Jim
Kearney «

198—Gentleman Joe Ensnared; Or, A Mighty Bad Man to Beat. By the
author of “Gentleman Joe.”

Tragedy. By Kugene T. Sawyer.
By W.

 

By

STREET & SMITH, eablehers cs

ae Dalton Boys in California; Or, A Bold Hold-up at Ceres.
B. Lawson. :

By Walter _

154—Boh Sims’ Fearful Oath; or, The Fatal Vengeance of the Sahn

By Professor

195—A Louisiana Jesse James; Or, Killed in the Swamp. By W. B. Lawson.

199—Manton Mayne, the San Francisco Detective;~Or, The Coleraine