& SMI TREET APPEARED WI Post Office re i qT SLL (ee Matter at the N. SUDDENLY NGTON I SH PHIL RU tered as Second AS P D " OM THE et ] scription, Sub By OUT WENT U REAT SH AG ia ii Na e No. 37. 7 & WEEKLY. issued Weekly—By Substription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, By STREET & SMITH, 238 William St., N.Y. Entered According to Act of Congress, in the year 1900 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D.C. & NEW YORK, October 27, 1900. Price Five Cents. ~ Phil Rushington’s Bravery; OR, BURNED OUT AT NEWCASTLE. — By STANLEY NORRIS. CHAPTER L AN OPPORTUNE EXPLOSION, “You are Mr. Rushington, I know.” “Pardon me, madam, but how do you know?” “T was at the performance last night, and recognize you as Eric Ayr, the leading man in ‘A Gentleman Born.’ You look the part, Mr. Rushington, on the stage as well as off.” “Thank you.” “Even if I did not recognize you as the man | saw last night, however, your picture on that bulletin board there would be a suffh- cient clue to your identity.” “T have been looking at the good people of Newcastle from billboards and shop windows for the last two weeks,” smiled’ Rush, “and they, perhaps, have the advantage of know- ing me, while I do not know them. It is only fair that you should tell me your name, since, you are acquainted with mine.” “Rogers is my name, Mr. Rushington— Grace Rogers. Did you not get the note I sent to you by the usher last night? Or, may- be, you-are one of those actors who pay not attention to mash-notes’ ?”’ ush was standing in the entrance to the Marlowe Theatre, leaning carelessly against -one of the bulletin boards, when he was ap- proached by a young lady of graceful figure, clad in rich garments and wearing a sealskin coat. She was heavily veiled and came straight up to him with a firm step, and, ina musical voice, began the conversation. which opens this chapter. When she said she had sent him a note by the usher, Rush instantly received a disagree- He hada horror of mash- able impression. # of which he received a large number at every town in which the Shirley & Rush- ington Dramatic Company played—and _ his dislike invariably extended to the senders. “To which note do you refer?” asked Rush. He had read one or two of the half dozen _ he had received and had then burned them all, : “Why,” she murmured, “I signed my name to it and ‘asked you to meet me here and ride out to my home and take luncheon with me. When I saw you here I felt sure you were on hand to keep the appointment.” “Not at all,” answered Rush, hastily. «] did not even read your note, Miss Rogers, and as for my being here at this particular time, that is merely a coincidence. I always make it a point to be around the box-office some time during the morning, and that’s the reason I am here at present.”’ ”? 6 “But you—— “Please wait until 1 have finished. Only very foolish girls send mash-notes to actors, and if you knew how most actors make sport of all billet doux of that kind, you would not indulge in the practice. I have not seen your face, and I am glad of it. Some day you will be sorry you sent that letter to me, and it may . be a satisfaction for you then to reflect that I burned it without reading it. Good-morning, Miss Rogers.” Walt Arkwright used to say that his chum could talk like a “Dutch uncle” whenever he wanted to, and if Rush ever did that he did it now. In no visible way did Miss Rogers seem abashed. She did not even start to leave, but Cien Rak Girncd and made for the box- pO AN D DARE WEEKLY. mistaken in my case. office she fea after him and caught Bie arm. “That was quite a homily you read me, Mr. Rushington,” she purred. “There is no doubt that you are a very charming young man, and that many young women do foolish things because of you, but you are a little” for which I wish you to come out to my home — besides the mere gratification of a personal regard.” There was something in her tone which _ gave Rush a doubt of her sincerity. He al- lowed her to proceed, however, and was very much startled by what followed. “There is a man at my place) Mr. ae incion the girl went on, pected to live. It is he who wishes to see you, and his name is Saunders—J. Q. Saun- ders.” “Saunders!” exclaimed Rush. “And not expected to liver «No. “What is the matter with him?” “He met with an accident in front of my house and was carried in there. He was un- conscious for a long time, but he came to himself yesterday afternoon and asked some one to get you. I was going to the play — night, and said I would attend to-it.” “Did you mention Saunders in that note you sent to me?” “No. “You should have done so if you had ex-_ pected me to pay any attention to the letter.’ “Perhaps. But will you go with me now?” Tt was eleven o'clock in the morning and not a matinee day, so the young Jeading man had plenty of time at his command, There is something else ‘who is not ex- nae eats vhs it far? he asked, “Only two miles out of town.” “Very well. I will get a carriage and we will go at once.” “Tt will not be necessary for you to get a carriage, Mr. Rushington. My automobile is within hailing distance, and I brought it espe- cially to have you go back with me. Please wait a moment.” Miss Rogers’ appearance and manner sug- gested wealth and social position, so Rush was not at all surprised to learn that she had an automobile. Leaving the theatre entrance, Miss Rogers passed down the walk to the corner and sig- naled with her hand. A moment later an open carriage, pneu- matic-tired and with a man in livery in front and behind, glided noiselessly into view, rounded the corner and came up to the curb in front of the theatre. It was during that spell of pleasant weather which usually follows the first cold snap and is called “Indian summer.” Warm oo were in demand, but an open carriage was far more comfortable than one that was closed. After assisting his companion into the ‘victoria,’ Rush entered and seated himself beside her, Their backs were toward the flunkey on the rear seat, and the back of the driver, of course, was toward them. A moment later the man on the box applied himself to his levers, and they got under way and rolled easily along toward the outskirts of the city. = For some little time Rush said nothing, his thoughts being busy with Saunders. DO AND DARE WEEKLY. a / 3 Saunders was his old-time, implacable enemy, and had borne a hand in recent events — which, but for Rushington’s tact and determi- nation, would have brought disaster to the company of which he was a joint proprietor. © “Ts Saunders badly hurt, Miss Rogers?” asked Rush, when they had left the city and struck into the quiet country ways. “He is very badly injured, Mr. Rushing- 9 ton,’ replied the girl. “If you have time to listen, I would like to tell you a little story.” “My time is at your disposal.” “You are very kind. Well, once upon a time there were——” “That begins like a fairy tale,’ smiled Rush. | “Nevertheless,” she responded, decisively, “this is no fairy story. To resume, once upon a time there were two stage people known as 37 Arthur Lavin and Evelyn Leonard She paused as Rush gave her a quick look. The actor and actress she had mentioned were known to Rush. Evelyn had once been a member of the company and had conspired with Lavin to do some crooked work, which had caused her dismissal. “Are you acquainted with those two peo- ple” inquired Rush. She nedded and continued: “A young leading man by the name of Rushington did his utmost to get Evelyn — Leonard discharged from the company, and aS: he succeeded “What do you mean?’ interrupted Rush, indignantly. “If you think——’”’ “Wait!” the other fairly hissed from be- hind her veil. “I’m not done yet, Mr. Rush- ington. You not oniy got Evelyn discharged from Shirley’s company; but, after she and eave had secured places with Hallock, you and Shirley relentlessly pursued the rival manager until you had run him out of busi- ness. You can’t deny it! After injuring in- nocent people A this way you cannot hope to rest secure. This is the last town your com- pany will ever show in, and as for you—you have got to pay the penalty now!” : words into his face. At the same time the automobile came to a halt in an unfrequented road, skirted with deep woods. Rush had remained perfectly quiet while the girl was delivering this last speech, listen- : ing to her words and studying her manner in the licht of a suspicion : which had just dawned upon him. When she was done he ‘was positive that his suspicion was well grounded. “You have lured me away from the theatre by a trick,” he said, quietly. “Tam certain 3? that you are none other than— “Right!” veil from her face: hefself.”’ _ laugh. Her whole manner and the very tone In a trice she had whiskéd the “IT am Evelyn Leonard She gave vent to a hard, merciless of her voice were changed. “Am I not a very good actress? You never recognized me un- til just this moment, Philip Rushington.” “That’s true,” returned Rush, coldly, “but what can you hope to accomplish by bringing me out here?’ antil I say that you may.” “I beg your pardon,” answered: Rush, get- ting up and laying one hand on the door. “I am going to leave it at once.” “7 don’t think so,” put in the driver, from the front seat. DO AND DARE WEEKLY, a Leaning toward him, she threw the last “Much. You will not leave this carriage As he spoke he turned around and a re- = volver gleamed in the sunlight. The voice was familiar, and the instant Rush saw the man’s face he recognized him as _ Saunders! A said Rush, sarcastically, “you are not so terribly injured as I was led to sup-. pose. ae “Not quite,” spoke up the man on the seat behind. His voice was likewise familiar, and Rush looked around and discovered that the second ~ speaker was none other than Lavin. He also neld a revolver. Both weapons being fairly well aimed, the young leading man was be- tween two fires. XN “My enemies are fairly well represented ' here, it seems,”’ observed Rush, coolly. , , a He did not sit down, but stood sideways at the carriage door—Evelyn in front of him and the men with the revolvers on either hand. Standing thus, he was able to watch all three. “Now that you have me,” he asked, “what are you going to do with me?” “We intend to take good care of you,” an- swered Saunders, promptly. Saunders’ revolver was within a foot of Phil’s breast, and the young leading-man felt = that th ie could distract the attention of his three enemies for a moment he could snatch the weapon and use it in effecting his escape. It took him but a second to evolve a plan. He was a splendid actor, and he suddenly evinced a terrific amount of surprise, fastened his eyes on the blank woods, threw up one hand, and shouted : “Get back, Walt, get back! They’ve got guns, and they'll use ‘em, too!” . t ao = , ih A RES lh ps A GP GOR A AT i oR a Sage gre Meas ios _ ground with terrific force. -'The ruse was partly successful. Evelyn turned squarely around. Saunders cast a hasty look over his shoulder and Rush grabbed at his revolver. As Rush grabbed, Saunders instinctively drew his hand back, with the result that the weapon was knocked to the bottom of the carriage. “There's no one there!” exclaimed Lavin. “He’s fooling us.” “It won't help him any!” cried Saunders, and at once hurled himself from the seat upon Rush. 7 The next instant the two clinched, and La- vin dared net use his revolver had he been so inclined. Dropping the weapon into his pocket, he climbed quickly into the body of the vehicle and took a hand in the fray. Those readers who are familiar with Rush’s adventurous career know that he was: no novice when it came to fisticuffs. There is small doubt but that he would -have been able to overcome his two oppo- nents even had he been left to battle unaided. It was far from Evelyn’s intentions, how- ever, to remain a passive spectator. She had been compelled to climb to the front seat in order to be out of the way, and when she saw that her two friends were likely to be worsted by the valiant Rush she snatched up one of the detachable iron levers. Raising it above her head, she leaned over and awaited an opportunity for dealing a tell- ing blow. But that opportunity never came. Suddenly a hissing sound, as of escaping steam, was heard from the rear of the vehicle, then came a dull roar, a lurid glare of light, and all in the carriage were hurled to the DO AND DARE WEEKLY. ee The gasoline apparatus which turned the : wheels had exploded and the “auto” was irre- narably: wrecked. ; : The enemies of Phi! Rushington had over- reached themselves, however. The explosion was not an accident, but the result of diabolical design, as will presently be shown. CHAPIER IL THE MAN IN BLACK. Phil’s three friends, Dora Warren, Mamie Meagen and Walt Arkwright were walking _ in the vicinity of the theatre just a little while before Evelyn Leonard called the carriage from arcund the corner. oT Faith,” said Mamie, pointing to the auto- mobile, which stood some distance in ad- vance of them on the opposite side of the street, “I’m going t’ roide in that koind av a chaise when I make my fortune on th’ stage.” “Good for you, Mamie!” exclaimed Walt. -“T had a horseless carriage myself, once.” “You? Whin was that?’ “When I was about six months old. My mother pushed it.” “Gwan with vez! What d’ye think av that-Dora Py “T’ve got something else to think of now,” answered Dora. 7 She had come to a halt and had her eyes | fixed on a man who had stolen out of an allevway, slipped up to the back of the auto- mobile, and opened a small door that con- cealed the machinery. The man was dressed . in threadbare garments and was tall and thin and evidently doing something which he knew he should not do. a “Why is that man fussing with the machin- ery of that automobile?’ continued Dora. “Not being a mind-reader,” said Walt, Per- haps he’s the fellow who has charge of the “Tm unable to answer that question. machine.” “He hasn’t anything t’ do with the automo- bile,” put in Mamie, watching the man with curious interest. “It’s my private opinion that he’s not doin’ th’ machine any good, at all, at all. I do belave—Walt! look at th’ - spalpeen wance. Don’t he remoind ye some av Stamford Jones, th’ blackguard who foired a revolver at Rushy, t’other noight on th’ strate car?” 19 “By Christopher!” exclaimed Walt, “the fellow does look like Jones.” “See him sneak away,’ put in Dora, ex- citedly, as Jones started back into the alley - simultaneously with the appearance of two men in livery from the side door of a neigh- boring Saloon. “He ought to be captured, Walt, and turned over to the police. Over- take him, can’t you?” “T’ll do my best,” and Walt ran across the street and disappeared in the narrow pass- ageway. Hardly had he vanished and the two men in livery taken their places on the automo- bile, when Evelyn appeared at the corner and signaled for the vehicle. “Sure,” said Mamie, ‘‘av there ain't some kind av a hocus-pocus about this, I’m missin’ my guess. I don’t know whether or not my eyes are sharper than yer own, Dora darlint, but that spalpeen on th’ front sate looked —loike Saunders, bad cess to him!” “Saunders!”, exclaimed Dora.- “Do you DO AND DARE WEEKLY. think he’s turned driver for a horseless car- riage?” “He'd do it, sure, av he had some black- guard thrick av his own t’ play. But Saun- ders an’ Jones worruk together, an’ Jones wouldn’t do anything to injure the auto av he stood a chance av injurin’ Saunders at th’ same toime. No, th’ droiver couldn’t have been Saunders or else the tall man couldn’t- have been Jones.” While Mamie was speaking a man in black, with sharp visage and alert eyes, had driven a horse and buggy swiftly up to the curb and drawn rein close to where the two girls were standing. He lifted his hat. “Pardon me,” said he, looking at Dora, “but are you Miss Warren, the lady playing the soubrette part in ‘A Gentleman Born’ ?” , “IT am Miss Warren,” replied Dora. “I saw you on the stage last night and felt. sure I could not be mistaken. I wish to see Mr. Rushingion at once. Can you tell me where I can find him?” ‘“‘He’s usually at the theatre about this time inthe morning. If you will drive around the corner to the box-office you can probably find out something about him there.” “Thank you,” and the man in black touched his horse with the whip and whirled around the corner just in time to see the “auto” turn another corner several squares farther down the street. The alert eyes of the man in the buggy _ rested on the “auto” for hardly more than a second, but that second was enough. Know- ing Rushington by sight, he discovered that — he was in the vehicle, and he lashed his horse _and followed after. Just as he was about to turn the corner a_ OIG GREE PRGA F a3 Zz ; 2 CN one pire sais pL mitt. policeman ran out into the street and stopped him, “Yes agaist the city ordinance to drive so fast,” said the officer. “Go slower, or you'll get run in.” The man in the buggy muttered an anath- ema under his breath; then he leaned over and whispered a few. words in the policeman’s ear The effect was magical. Vith an exclamation of surprise the officer stepped back, looked at the man in the bugg ina kind of awe, then raised his. hand to his cap in salute. The man in black continued on, driving eveh faster in order to make up for the delay. When he dashed into the other street the “auto” was not to be seen; he hurried on, however, and at every cross street he passed cast a hurried glance right and left. He finally glimpsed the vehicle he was looking for on a street far off to the right. Heaving a sigh of relief, he turned his horse’s head and followed with the “auto” well in sight. As he reached the country road the driver of the “auto” turned on more power and de- veloped a speed which carried the vehicle slowly but surely away from the man in black. When the horseless carriage finally turned into the unfrequented crossroad it could bare- ly be seen by the man in the buggy; and when he himself reached the turning the sound of the explosion was the first thing that greeted his ears. “What the deuce does that mean ?” he mut- tcred, using the whip on his perspiring horse and forcing the animal to the limit of speed. DO AND DARE WEEKLY. He had not covered a hundred yards through the thick woods, however, before two men, with the tattered remnants of their livery flapping about them, came running to- ward him along the road. ¥ At the appearance of the two men the horse came to a dead halt with a suddenness that nearly threw the man in black from the buggy seat. “Here's our chance, Lavin,” said Saunders, “Tet’s take the buggy and use it to get away: with.” “T’lt go you,” answered Lavin. Before the man in black could. force his horse ahead the two villains had set upon him, one from each side. With his whip he cut Saunders fiercely across the face and the fellow dropped back, cursing with rage and pain. Quick as a flash the man in the buggy turned to Lavin, who was seeking to climb up on the other side. With his clenched fist he knocked the nian from the carriage step, and the next moment had laid the lash along his horse’s flanks and was off like the wind, leaving his discomfited assailants far behind. “That will teach those fellows a lesson,” “They were the two chaps that belonged with the muttered the man in black, grimly. ‘mobe.’ I wonder what happened to the ma-- chine? And Rushington and the woman that Great Jupi- was with him—have they ten! The man in the buggy broke off his re- marks with a startled exclamation, for he had whipped around a bend and come in full view of the wrecked “auto.” The four wheels, connected by their axles, 4 Sn a a 4 al ao | ; a | | ee 4 ‘DO AND DARE WEEKLY. were still standing in the road, but the body : of the vehicle was splintered and broken and cast into a hundred different places. The debris was all about, and in the midst of it knelt Rushington, supporting the head of Evelyn Leonard and chafing her temples . inan apparently useless attempt to bring her back to consciousness. Rush and the girl had been a little farther from the source of the explosion than had Saunders and Lavin. The young leading man had been thrown some distance and had experienced a hard shock, but his clothing had not been ripped to tatters and all but stripped from his back, as in the case of the other two men. As for Evelyn, it seemed that she had not withstood the effects of her fall so success- fully as had Rush, for she- lay limply over _ one of his arms, her eyes closed and the breath hardly passing through her white lips. The man in black sprang from the buggy and hastened to Rush’s side. “It looks as though. you had had a blow-up said he. hes, paratus exploded. There were four of us here,” answered Rush, in the carriage, and it is a wonder we were not all killed. Our escape was certainly a miraculous one.” “Ts the young woman badly hurt?” “T think not. She is simply unconscious from the effects of her fall. You see, she was 3) - thrown against a tree, and “By Jove!” interrupted the other suddenly after a brief examination of Evelyn’s face. “Tf this isn’t luck I don’t want a cent.” “What’s the matter?’ asked Rush. _ “Why, this is the very woman I wanted to “the gasoline ap- - ae Tma detective, } Mr. Rushington, and : & my name is Dick Saintsbury.” “Tye heard of you,’ the fact that he had seen Sie S name in the papers several times. “That’s too long a story to be told now,” answered Saintsbury, taking a small flask from his pocket and unscrewing the top. “Here’s something that will bring the girl to ina jiffy.” Leaning down, he pressed the aoe of. the: flask between Evelyn’s lips, then straightened _ : up to watch the result. As the minutes passed and there was no sign of returning consciousness he tried the liquor again, but in vain. “It’s no use,” he declared, needs, Rushington, is medical aid, for she must be hurt worse than we think. Suppose we lift her into my carriage and take her to a doctor?” “A good idea,” returned Rush- Between them they carried Evelyn to the vehicle and lifted her upon the seat. “There won't be room for the three of us 99 to ride,’ went on Rush, “so you get in with Miss Leonard and I'll walk back to town.” “T don’t know but that’s the best way,” said Saintsbury, walking to the back of the buggy to take out an extra robe. “T must see you, though, Rushington, just as soon as you get to town. Will you call for me at the Briggs House? The business is very important.” ~ answered Rush: “but @ “Certainly,” what——”’ He got no farther, for at that precise junc- ture the carriage leaped away from him and the detective and went reeling along the road, * said Ruch, recalling “What do you~ want this woman for? Whathas she done?” “What she © swerving around the wheels of the “auto” and - bumping over pieces of the wreck. . Evelyn was sitting erect on the seat, hold- ing the reins in one hand and plying the whip with the other. “Stop!” shouted the startled Saintsbury. “Stop, I tell you, or I’ll shoot!” As he gave the command he dréw a re- volver. Evelyn refused to stop, and he sent a couple of shots after her, firing wild and hoping to frighten her into drawing rein. But Evelyn did not stop, and when she had disappeared from sight Saintsbury gave Rush a sheepish look as he dropped his re- volver into his pocket. “Now, what do you think of that!’ he re- marked. “That girl fooled me completely, and if she isn’t one of the best actresses on the stage, she ought to be, by thunder!”” He eave a chagrined laugh. “She played ’pos- sum on us all the time. But it was the only thing she could do if she wanted to get away. Well, well, well!” CHAPTER ATE A “HURRY-UP” MESSAGE, One of the shrewdest detectives in the country had measured wits with a woman and was now acknowledging himself beaten. Notwithstanding his chagrin, he expressed great admiration at the way Evelyn had played her cards. | “We might as well jog along back to town,” added Saintsbury, after he had aired his feeling rather more than was his wont. “But aren’t you going to chase after the girl and try to capture her and get back your horse and buggy?” “When I once block out my course, Mr. DO AND DARE WEEKLY. ce Rushington, I try to follow it without being drawn aside by little things of this kind.” Rush was nonplussed. “Weren't you after Evelyn?” he asked. “I was after you, and it was a stroke of 3 luck that enabled me to find the girl as well. The finding of you both, however, would merely assist me in discovering the man whom I have been trailing for the last three weeks. I was told that Evelyn Leonard might tell me where the man could be found, | and that you could probably inform me where I might meet Evelyn.” “The testimony of Evelyn seems to be the all-important thing, and she has got away.” “T have an assistant in town and he will take up the pursuit of Evelyn just as soon as [ get back to the hotel. The man I am looking for isa murderer. He was tried, sen- tenced to the penitentiary for life and escaped — from the sheriff by leaping from atrain. The fellow used to be an actor, and, so I under- stand, has drifted into the business again.” “How long has it been since the murderer escaped ?”” “Something more than two years.” “He must be pretty shrewd to have evaded capture for that length of time.” “He’s shrewd enough,” was the deprecat- ing answer, “but I have only had the case three weeks.” : “What’s the man’s name?” queried Rush. “Edgar Plympton.” The young actor shook his head. “T don’t know of any such man,” said he. “That’s the name he was tried-and con- victed under,’ returned the detective. “Of course, he’s sailing under false colors now.” While talking they were walking rapidly : along in the direction of the town, and Saints- bury halted long enough to draw a small card photo from his pocket and hand it to his companion. “Here's a picture of Plympton, taken from the rogues’ gallery,” he said. “Please look at it.” | The instant Rushington’ S tyes fell on the picture a cry of astonishment escaped hin. “Do you know the man?” asked Saints- bury, quickly. yess he is Stamford Jones, a man who once played the heavy role in our company.” “Jones, eh? Isn't he the man who ert ed your life on the street car Monday night?” “The same fellow,” answered Rush. “Were you in the city at that time?” ac Noy but wherever Tam I make it a point to keep track of such things.” Saintsburv slipped. the picture into his pocket and rubbed his hands delightedly as they resumed their swift pace back to the city. “My chase ts narrowing down,” he mutr- » é miured; “if Jones was in town Monday night 4 the chances are that he’s in town now.” “T think so,’ assented Rush. “He has de- signs against me, and [ am sure he will not leave Newcastle until he tries to accomplish “something further.” “Morphine fiend, isn’t he?” “Yes, and not very much to be feared.” They had passed out of the crassroads and oe into the a north-and-south road, -when a man, who was slashing by with a team Saintsbury’s attention. The horses were richly caparisoned and the carriage was an elegant affair, with the driver of magnificent black roadsters, claimed - “DO AND DARG WEEKLY. = on the same seat with the owner, but sitting — a little higher. The owner was short and stout, wore a high hat and had the appearance of a man of great wealth. : : “That's McGonigle,” remarked Saintsbury as the team approached. “He counts his wealth in seven figures. I did some work for him once, and I wonder if he will know me?” McGonigle did know the detective, recog- nizing him just as his carriage drew abreast of the pedestrians. = He nodded, spoke and had his driver come to a‘Ralt, =. Saintsbury hastened up to his former client and they shook hands. ; “T’ve just had some bad luck, Saintsbury,” said McGonigle. “Some thief has. run off with my ‘mobe.’ ” : “Was it an open carriage, upholstered in eTeenr : ree “Run by gasolinem’ <: | “That's it! Have you seen anything 0 of the machine ?” “Take the first oo and bear to the left,” answered Saintsbury. ‘Yon won’t go far before you come to all that’s left of your mobe 7 “All that’s left of it?” echoed McGonigle. “What do you mean by that?” “Well, the thieves got that far with it and then it blew up.” “Tt couldn’t blow up—that is, not unless it was tampered with.” 3 “Then it ee have been tampered with,” replied the detective. tinued on his way in hot haste. McGonigle waited for no more, but con- - “A bold piece of work,” observed Saints- bury, rejoining Rush. “That ‘auto’ was stolen. it, Mr. Rushington?”’ Rush explained, and when he was through the detective gave vent to a long whistle. “Those people are after you for fair,” said he. “After I take in Jones, I’ll bet something handsome that McGonigle offers me a pretty penny to capture the rogues who made off with his ‘mobe.’ Here’s a chance for us to ride the rest of the way to town. That will : get us into town quicker, and the quicker we get there the better it will be. What do you say.?” Rush had agreed, and they halted a farmer who was driving a “democrat”? wagon with an empty seat behind, and made a bargain with him to carry them the rest of the way. The farmer let them off at the Briggs House, and there Rush found Dora and Mamie, both walking nervously up and down the veranda. On, Phil)” eried Dora, hurrying forward the instant she caught sight of him. ‘‘Here’s ‘a letter that came for you to the box-office an The address is in Walt’s hand- writing, and it’s marked ‘Important—to be hour ago. acted on at once. Look!” “Why didn’t you open it, little girl?” in- quired Rush, taking the envelope from her hand and tearing off the end. “Sure, Rushy,” whispered Mamie, the words lost to the detective, but distinctly audi- ble to Dora, “she doesn’t think Ses got the right to open yer mail—yet awhoile.” “Oh, she doesn’t, eh?” laughed Rush, with a sly glance at Dora’s reddening cheeks. How did you come to be riding in DO AND DARE WEEKLY. a 11 As the young actor read the note a look of | deep surprise overspread his face. © | “This concerns you, Saintsbury,” said he, after giving the detective a hasty introduc- tion to the two girls. Saintsbury took the note and read as fol- lows: “DEAR RusH—I have run down your — friend, Stamford Jones. He’s over here at the Five Points in the basement of Gallegher’s place. If you want him, come over, and come quick. I’ve had something of a time, and don’t know whether I’ll be able to hold on till ‘you arrive or not. Put on some kind of a make-up, and, if you bring an officer, be stire and have him well disguised. The appear- ance of a police star in this vicinity is a sig- nal for all the crooked characters to drop out of sight. Play your cards well—come at once, and I think we can bag Mr. Jones. ANAT CS “Better and better!” exclaimed the smiling Saintsbury. “It looked as though I’d get my man before sundown. I know the Five Points by dear experience. It’s the worst hole in this city, Rushington. We may have a rough time there,’ “I guess I can stand it if you can, Saints- bury,” answered Rush. “You got this letter an hour ago, did you, Dora?” “Fully an hour ago. It came to the box- office, and I took it and we started straight off to find you. The man in the box-office said you had gone off with a woman in an automobile, and I was worried to death thinking you had gone out of town some- where and wouldn’t be back before time to eat dinner and get to the theatre for the per- formance.” “Faith, Rushy,” whispered Mamie again, mischief in her eyes, “it wasn’t so much the - deliverin’ av the letter that worried her, as : the fact that ye’d gone off wid another girl.” “Was the letter from Walt, Phil?” inquired Dora, by way of hiding her embarrassment. : “Yes, and he says he has located Stam- ford Jones. If we are to be of any assistance to Walt, Saintsbury, we’ll have to be off at once. Will you attend to getting an off- 3 cer ; “What’sthe matter with me?” auied te detective. “I can take care of Jones fully as : well as any policeman could do it. I’ll go in and see my aid and start him off after Eve- lyn Leonard and that horse and buggy, then Tl go to my room, and it will take me about five minutes to make up. Where will I meet your” “Tl have to go to the theatre,” said Rush, “and as that is directly on our way to the Five Points, you might meet me at the stage ~ entrance.” “Very good,” was the brisk rejoinder as : the detective rushed away. Phil started for a carriage that stood at the curb. “If you're going to the theatre, Phil,’ said Dora, as she and Mamie started after him, “we'll go with you, as we've got an after- ~noon’s work to do there.” What is the work?” asked Phil, when they were all in the carriage and well on their way to the Marlowe Opera House. “Tm going to rehearse a new song and Gladys Wellington has also got some new business Mamie is going to try a new dance. _to go over, and I presume she is there now.” “Ve can bet she’s there!” averred Mamie. “She’s a jealous thing, she is, an’ the minit 13> 3 2 DO AND UARE wiekiy = = does the same. An’ it’s all on account o” yer blessed self, Rushy. Av all th’ faymales in th’ company weren’t so dead in love wid ye they wouldn’t be so jealous av wan anGtes: d’ye moind.” | “Pshaw, Mamie!” smiled Rush, “you oe agine all that.” . Dora saw how the talk was drifting and made haste to touch upon another subject, and explained how she and Mamie had seen - Stamford Jones working at the machinery of the “auto.” Thereupon a matter which had before been dark to Rush was made clear. Jones had done something to the machin- — ery that had caused the explosion. His ma- _licious designs were certainly launched against Rush, and he must have had a knowl- edge of the plot which Saunders, Lavin and Evelyn had tried to execute. Furthermore, - Jones had not hesitated about carrying out his work for fear of injuring the other three who were carrying out a plot of their own. As the other three were friends of Jones, Rush Dora thrys to worruk in anythin’ new, Gladys Z : 2 thought that the man must be crazy to at- — tempt a deed which, in order to injure him, must also injure them. These thoughts were running through Rush’s mind as the carriage turned into the alley and halted at the stage entrance. He got out, assisted Mamie and Dora to ~ alight, paid the driver and passed in through the door. As he hastened along the passage in ad- vance of the girls a loud scream broke on his ears, flocs by a wild cry for help. : It was Gladys Wellington’s voice, ‘and Rush paused not an instant, but dashed to- — re ie Enc SS RESET ward the door of her dressing-room, which was standing partly ajar. CHAPTER IV. LOOKING FOR WALT. Gladys occupied a dressing-room jointly with Dora and Mamie. It was a large apartment, as dressing-rooms go, and when Rush reached it he found Gladys in street costume, on the floor, her hat and veil lying by her side. ' Gladys had partially raised herself on one arm, and one hand was clutching at her throat. There was no one else in the room, “Oh, Rush, Rush,” gasped Gladys, as Phil ran to her side, knelt down and lifted her fainting form with one hand, “save me from him! Don’t let him touch me!” . As she spoke, she threw her arms around Rush’s neck and clung to him convulsively. Upon her white throat Rush saw five blu- ish-red marks, which looked as though they might have been made by the clutch of a rough hand. ‘Rest easy, Gladys,” said Rush, reassur- ingly, “you are in no danger now.” “You will protect me, won’t you, Rush?” continued Gladys, wildly. | “Protect you from whom?” asked Phil, looking toward Dora and Mamie, who had just come in and stood gazing at the two on the floor. A smile was flickering about Ma- mie’s lips, and there was an unmistakably jealous light in Dora’s handsome eyes. ““There is no one here, Gladys, whom you need to fear. Come, let me help you to get up.” Raising Gladys was almost a dead lift for Phil, but he finally succeeded in placing the DO AND DARE WEEKLY. © 4S frightened actress in a chair and in separat- ing himself from her twining arms. ; “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” sobbed Gladys, hold- ing a handkerchief to her eyes. “Whatater- _rible experience! I thought I should die!” “Who was it frightened you?” asked Rush, making note of a lot of matches which were spilled over the floor in the direction of a door that led into the dressing-room of Leora Rob- erts, the leading lady. “Tt was Stamford Jones,” declared Gladys. “T came in from the stage, where I have been going through some new business with Mr. | Gibbs, and saw Jones taking a box of matches | from my table. I called out to him and he turned and sprang at me like a tiger. Mercy! I can feel his hand on my throat yet. I fought him away as well as I was able and managed to scream for help. Then he threw me to the floor and hurried out through that door.” Gibbs, the stage manager, came in in time to hear the most of Miss Wellington’s story, 3 and he hastened to the door leading into Leora Roberts’ dressing-room and pushed it — open. | “No one in here,” he said; “but Jones might have gotten out into the passage and effected his escape. I’m sorry he got away, -Rush. Jones is just the fellow we are anx- ious to get our hands on, you know.” | “Tt wasn’t Jones that Miss Wellington — saw, said Rush, confidently, and Gladys looked at him in amaze. “T am sure it was!” she exclaimed. - , “Tt couldn’t be,” went on Rush. “I’ve got a line here from Arkwright, and he says that Jones is at a place run by a man named Gal- legher, over in the Five Points.” ee ; “Well,” responded Gladys, less confidently, ‘he looked like Jones, anyhow.” “There are three painters down stairs ’ _ working on scenery,” suggested Gibbs, “and - it might have been one of them,—though why - he should come up here and throttle you sim- ply to steal a box of matches passes my com- prehension. However, if you’ll come with me, Wellington, we'll go down and have a look at the painters. If you can identify one of them as your assailant I'll see that he an- _ swers for what he has done.” Rush picked up the hat and veil and handed them to Gladys, and then she and Gibbs left - the room and Rush passed over to his own quarters to complete the work which had been so.long delayed. He was phenominally quick at “making up,” and in five minutes he emerged from his dressing-room transformed into a tramp and all ready for his trip to the Five Points. As he left the theatre he halted in the alley and looked around for Saintsbury: The only person he could see, however, was a disreputable looking hobo pawing over the rubbish in the alley looking for cigar stumps. The hobo looked up and saw Phil watch- ing him. | “Ah, dere, kunnel!’ said the hobo, hoarsely. “Aw, g’wan!” answered Rush, remem- _ bering the part he had to play. “I ain’t no _ kunnel. Wot youse lookin’ fer?” “Snipes—wot d’youse t’ink—gold eagles?” “Well, so long,” said Rush, starting toward the street, thinking he might find the detect- ive waiting for. him. there. “1 can’t linger wid youse.” The next moment the other had overtaken po AND DARE - WEEKLY. — = him, and a low laugh broke on the young actor’s ear. said a familiar voice. f “I must be pretty good if I can fool you, f “Saintsbury !” exclaimed Rush. “I should say you were good. We both seem to have ~ hit upon the same make-up.” “And it’s the best kind of a make-up we could have, Mr. Rushington. Talking about disguise, though, yours is AL, - “1. certainly wouldn’t have known you if I hadn’t seen you coming out of the theatre. Now for the worst quarter of the town and the worst place there.” , Taking a back street, they made their way as quickly as they could toward the - Five , Points. : 4 Every city of any size has its dark quar- ter—its shady purlieu, where desperate plot- ters meet and weave their webs of trickery and crime. o That section, in Newcastle, was the place ) where five sharp corners came together with a low drinking dive on each corner. Whisky, dice and cards were the three fac- tors which made the Five Points infamous and an eyesore to all honest citizens. Each dive vied with the other in point of viciousness, but if there was one worse than the rest that one was Gallegher’s, and if there was one man who had a deeper taint of law- lessness than any of the others it was Gal-— legher himself. : | Plans were hatched in the daytime and ex- ecttted at night. From sunrise to sunset cur- faiie were always drawn in the Five Points, and in the black recesses of the various build- . ings the crooked characters met—men with : low brows, thick necks and brutish faces— Ss es L DO AND DARE WEEKLY. . 15 played cards, drank vile liquor and concocted their schemes. It was easy enough for Rush and Saints- bury to get into Gallegher’s. A burly ruffian stood at the door and chal- lenged them, but Rush showed him a silver dollar, which, proved an open sesame. Gallegher never turned away any one, no matter how poorly dressed, if he had money. At the dirty bar Rush ordered drinks, and when ‘they were served both he and Saints- bury emptied their glasses unnoticed on the _ floor. Rush never drank, nor had he any of the other vices common to a set of youths who seek to be “fast.” How much his superb muscular develop- ment had to do with his abstinénce in mat- ters of this kind it would be hard ‘to tell, but it had a great deal we may be sure. “Do you see your friend anywhere in the ‘room?’ asked Saintsbury, in an undertone. “No,” answered Rush, after a survey of the apartment. “It you will remember, he spoke ~ > of being in the basement. . Have you any idea how we are to get down there?” “T know the place. Come with me and we'll try the inside stairs. There is a way to go down and up on the outside, but that is known only to Gallegher and his most trusted patrons. It is for use, I understand, in case of a police raid.” Saintsbury led the way to a door in a back corner. As he caught hold of the knob a man got up from a nearby table and laid a hand on his arm. “Ye can’t go down there,” said the man, gruffly. “Hoboes ain’t allowed down there.” “Aw, take a sneak!” growled the detective. “We wants ter play, see?” “What ye got ter play with?” 5 Saintsbury showed a roll of bills as big as — his wrist. “You'll do,” grinned the man. “Must have been out with a lead pipe. Down ‘with ye!” Rush and the detective passed through the door and made their way down a narrow, ill- smelling stairway into the basement. A thick haze of the vilest kind of tobacco smoke was over everything. It was. impos- sible to discern the limits of the room, or at first to make out anything more than a glim- mering point of light here and there. Gradually, however, as their eyes became accustomed to the vapor, forms could be seen beneath the light and black-browed, leering faces came dimly forth. : Over all:came the flrp, flip of the cards, the. rattle of poker Ss. the clink of glasses and — hoarse voices in profane talk. To Rush, unused to such scenes, the whole thing was sickening. The reek of the tobacco smoke stung his nostrils and his eyes smarted fiercely. In order to protect his eyes for a moment he closed them and a waiter ran into him and knocked a glass of liquor off the tray he was carrying, Muttering a deep oath, the waiter looked at Rush for a moment and then struck at him with the bit of circular metal he was carry- ing. The young actor dodged the blow, reached out sideways with his knuckles and sent the waiter to the floor. . “Beautiful, beautiful!” breathed Saintsbury in Phil's ear; “but it will make ws more trouble, I’m thinking. Leave it all to me, Rush.” | _ The waiter picked himself up, swearing like a pirate, and a small-eyed, heavy-jawed man came lumbering through the haze and halted on the scene of the difficulty. “Wot’s de matter, Biff?’ he demanded of ) the waiter. “One o’ dem mugs hit me an’ knocked me down,” replied the waiter, nodding his shock- head toward Rush-and Saintsbury. “How de blazes did dey git in here?” cried Gallegher, “Call de bouncer an’ have ’em fired glaring at the two supposed hoboes. out o” de place.” ‘Jes’ hol’ yer hosses fer a couple o’ shakes, : cull, . put in Saintsbury. ““Youse t’ink we’re N. G., don’t youse? Well, jest cast yer optics over that.” The detective showed his roll of money once more, and the little eyes of the ore tor elowed greedily, | “Wot’s yer grait?’ asked Gallegher, gen- -Aally. “Strong-arm work, cull,’’ was the detect- ive’s prompt reply. “Bully fer youse. Come wid me—I want t’ speak wid youse both privately. ‘Biff, t’ree glasses of de best. _ There was a peculiar intonation in Galle- gher’s voice and a peculiar gleam in his eye, neither of which escaped either Rush or his companion. | - Dis way, gents,” off through the billows of smoke. “Look out for that liquor,” whispered Rush to Saintsbury. “Two of the glasses will be ; drugged.” “T know it,’ chuckled the detective, “and eo DO AND DARE WEEKLY. _ we'll catch him at his own game. Mind wot I say, de best. banely. der. While it’s comin’ I want ter hold a lit- — said Gallegher, leading - his eye on this roll of mine—all Confederate : money except a dollar bill on the outside. Let ‘me manage this, Mr. Rushington.” Rush was perfectly willing to leave the e management of the affair to. Saintsbury, a whose professional career had given him a larger experience with men like Gallegher and with places like the Five Points. By instinct, apparently, Gallegher threaded his way through the vapor-filled room and reached a door communicating with a room under the stone sidewalk. Opening the door, he admitted his com- panions into a small chamber. A block of stone formed the cine. The sides were of masonry, and Spine off to the left was a second door. From the centre of the ceiling hung a gas jet, which was lighted and burning much brighter than those in the other part of the establishment. a This was owing to the fact that very little smoke had as yet drifted into the smaller chamber, _ Rush trembled for an instant at the thought that their disguises would be so much easier penetrated in the clearer atmosphere, ne gradually this fear wore off. “Set down, gents,’ * ureed Gallegher, ur- “The likker ’Il be here in short or- tle confab with ye. I don’t recollect ever havin’ seen youse ducks around “ere afore. Strangers in town?” answered Saintsbury, with a | “We did a little ‘Pat's us,” great show of confidence. é He’s got = job about twenty miles out last night. = : a “ rie Mannion <= PEs ‘im, an’ Jerry, here, t'rew ’im inter de river.’ DO AND DARE WHEKLY,. 17 ‘Farmer had jes’ sold his wheat. I plugged “Oh, dat’s yer lay, is it?” queried Galle- gher, beamingly. - “Ye’re de kind o’ handy boys dat I like. Ain’t ye afeared de fly cops 1 mit atter yer “Dat’s wot’s frettin’ us, Fre,” and the de- tective pulled his roll of money out of his pocket, ‘would youse have any objections t’ keepin’ dis, so if we're found an’ searched dere won't be not’in’ in our clothes?” “No objections at all, friend,’ returned Gallegher, taking the money and stowing it away in his trousers pocket. “Youse ducks have got confidence in me, an’ now I’m goin’ t’ show youse dat I’ve got confidence in you.”’ The door opened and Biff appeared with a tray and three glasses. : “Take ‘em back, Biff’ called> (sallecher. take a clear head an’ steady nerves,-an’ it'll be better fer ’em not ter drink anyt’ing.” - The door closed once more and Biff went away. Galiegher, now that he had the tramps’ money, had no use for the drugged liquor. Rush admired the neat way in which Saintsbury had tided them over this diffi- culty, and at the same time had gained the confidence of Gallegher. What was it that the proprietor of the dive wanted of them? They both awaited with considerable curi- osity the information which the proprietor ‘was about to give them. “Some friends of mine have got a job dey wants done,” proceeded Gallegher, “an’ youse ducks are jes’ de ones ter do it. It ain’t no strong-arm work, neider. All you got ter do “T’ve got a deal on wid dese gents which ‘ll is ter take a man in a bag out t’roo de back o’ my place to de river. Dere’s a boat dere, and youse can drop down stream to de first house on de lef’ han’ side below de wagon bridge. Tie up dere an’ wait till some ’un comes fer de bag. Understand?” : “Ts dat all we got ter do?” asked Rush. “Dave dé hull-of 17’ “Wot re we fer get fer doin’ de trick?” put in the detective. “A tenner apiece. Arter youse git t’roo, come back t’ me an’ I’ll take care o’ youse. See?” “Who’re we doin’ de job fer, dat’s wot I want to know,” said Rush. “Ye’re doin’ de work fer a feller called Saunders,” replied Gallegher, “an’ now I reckon ye know jest about as much as ye did Do youse want de job—yes ’r no?”’ afore. “Yes,” replied Rush, promptly. “Me too,” added Saintsbury. — “Den come over dis way.” Gallegher got up and opened the door in the side wall and pulled out a long sack, tied at one end and containing a writhing human form. “Who is it in dere?” asked the detective. “Still cur’ous, hey?” grinned Gallegher. “Well, Saunders told me dat.de chap in dere is a crazy man by de name o’ Jones.” Saintsbury telegraphed a quick look to Rush as they stooped and picked up the bag, one at each end. “Come along close after me,’ said Galle- gher, leading the way through the main part of his establishment, up the stairs and out through a door at the rear end of the build- ing, which overlooked the river. A platform was built out over the water, s * 18 DO AND DARE WEEKLY. and a few feet down a boat pulled at its painter, which was fastened to a ring in the wall. Sitting down on the platform, Rush and Saintsbury jumped into the boat, and then be- tween them and with the help of Gallegher lifted in the sack. : It would have seemed like quite an ordi- nary proceeding had there been any witnesses around, which there were not. The casual onlooker would have supposed the sack to contain anything but what it did. “Now, Saintsbury untied the painter, “ye’re t’ tie up remember,’ said Gallagher, as by the first house on the left han’ side below the wagon bridge. Got that?” “Sure ting,’ answered Rush. s ? = “Den, ye’re t’ come back t’? me-an’ I’ll see that youse don’t git pinched on account o’- that job youse did twenty miles out. Got that, too?” “You bet,” answered the detective. = Den off ye so.” Saintsbury cast off and Rush seated him- self at the oars and began pulling down stream. , Gallegher watched them for a while and then backed off the platform and closed the door. “Well,” laughed the detective, “you can bet your bottom dollar we got there with both feet this time. This whole thing was as easy as falling off a log. Why; Gallegher shoved our man right into our hands. Who is Saun- ders, Mr. Rushington ?” “A friend of Stamford Jones.” “That’s a funny way for one friend to treat another,” chuckled Saintsbury, poking the bag with his foot. “Saunders had a reason for it,” returned Rush, and thereupon told how Jones had tam- pered with the machinery of the “auto,” with the result that an explosion had occurred and -came within a hair’s breadth of killing Saun- ders and Lavin, “Saunders must have returned from the — scene of the explosion,” added Rush, “and found out that Jones was the cause of it. That’s the-reason Saunders turned on Jones in this way.” “But where is your friend Arkwright all this time ?” : “That’s what puzzles me, and I think if we take Jones out of the bag he'll be able to give us some light on the subject.” - ~E shouldn’t wonder if he could,’ said Saintsbury, reaching down and untying the cord that secured the mouth of the bag- “Our friend has been squirming around a good deal during our conversation. Had you noticed it?” : The man in the bag sat up in the bottom of the boat, the mouth falling down about his shoulders and revealing his head. A cloth was tied between his jaws, and it was evident that his hands were secured be- hind him and his feet bound at the ankles. But the instant Saintsbury caught sight of the prisoner’s face he drew back with a sur- prised exclamation. | “Why,” he cried, “this man isn’t Stam- ford Jona : ? “I should say not,” laughed Rush; “it’s Walt Arkwright himself. Take that gag out of his teeth, Saintsbury, and remove his ‘bonds. He’s a pretty little yarn to spin—I can see it sticking right out of his eyes.” eee Pie a eee een HER Sa Seger = a aaa Fase ee Apennines soya sphere er DO AND DARE WEEKLY. 19. CHAPTER V. WALT’S “PECK OF TROUBLE.” “You two chaps are as big a pair of lunk- heads as any one could find in a month of ~ Sundays!” fumed Walt, when the gag had been taken from his mouth and the cords from his wrists and ankles. “How’s that for gratitude?” grinned Rush. “Walt, shake hands with Mr. Saintsbury. Mr. Saintsbury, my chum—the bear with a sore head. Walt, you ought to hate yourself good and hard for talking to us in that way. Just see what we’ve done for you! And con- sider how big a disappointment you've proved to Mr. Saintsbury!” “Disappointment!” growled Walt. “How do you make that out?” “Why, we thought we had Stamford Jones that sack. Mr. Saintsbury is a detective and has been looking for Jones for three weeks. Where is Jones, by the way? I thought you said you had him?” “We would have had him,’ answered Why didn’t you come about three hours sooner ?” Walt, “if you'd come quick enough. “Couldn’t ; had important business on hand. Just as soon as we got your letter we put on our make-up and started. How did you hap- pen to get in that fix, anyway ” “Well, to begin at the beginning, Dora, Mamie and I saw Jones sneak out of an alley and juggle a bit with the internal mechanism of a horseless carriage, which was standing beside the walk. “As soon as we were sure that the man was Jones I started in pursuit of him, and he led me through alleys and byways clear to Gal- legher’s place in the Five Points. I stopped in the door of the dive and saw him go down into the basement. A few moments later I tried to follow and see what he was up to, but was stopped by a burly rascal, who asked me if I had any money and wanted to play. I told him it was none of his business what I wanted to do, and then we had a small-sized earthquake that shook me around a little and | finally dumped me into the street. “That convinced me that I couldn’t handle the case alone,'so | made my way to the near- est drug store, bought 4 sheet of paper and Then I rang up the messenger office on the telephone an envelope and wrote that note. and got a boy to take the note to the Mar- lowe. “After that I hung around on the ragged edge of the Five Points, keeping an eye on the front of Gallegher’s establishment to see that Jones did not come out. In an hour or so I mustered up courage to go into the den © again, and this time the fellow who threw me out was as good as pie. “T was a big blockhead not to smell a mouse, but I didn’t, and I grinned and lis- tened to his apologies and forgave him, and then went down the steps to the basement like a lamb to the slaughter. “T didn’t look around for Jones downthere, because I didn’t have the chance. It was dark in the basement, and thick with tobacco smoke, and I went blundering around till a couple of husky fellows took me in hand, knocked me down, tied me hand and foot, gagged me and slipped me into this bag. Then they dragged me to some place, opened a door, dragged me further, closed the door and went away and left me all by my lone- some. “J don’t know how long I remained there 26 : Setore any one came again. It seemed like a : couple of years, but I presume it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours. Then three men opened the door and paid me a visit. I knew there were three by the sound of their voices, and I recognized their voices, too, and knew just who I had to deal with. ot he knowledge didn’t make me at all joy- ous, Rush, for the three men were none other than Saunders, Lavin and Jones. ““He’s in this bag,’ said Jones, giving me a kick. ‘He was fool enough to think I didn’t see him chasing me. The bouncer threw him out the first time, but the next time we lured him down here and bagged him.’ ““He’s an elephant on our hands,’ said La- vin. “What are we going to do with him?’ “ Tl] take care of him,’ put in Saunders. ‘T know just what to do to take care of Phil Rushington’s chum. If Gallegher can get him taken down the river this afternoon to that rendezvous of ours Ill see that he’s taken care of. Now, what’s your game, Jones?’ “‘Tncendiarism,’ answered Jones. “ “What! gasped both Saunders and Lavin, “Shirley and Rushington wound up Hal- lock and threw us out of a job,’ said Jones, ‘and I think that turn about is fair play. If we burn them out the account will be just about even. It can be done if you will help 39 ‘me, and ““Hist! broke in Saunders; “we will talk. this over among ourselves. Gallegher knows my name and I can’t give him anything ficti- tious. I’d advise you fellows to use aliases, though.: ““We will,’ said Jones. ‘I’ll tell Gallegher that it’s Jones who’s in the bag. Come on. We'll have to settle this other matter at once.’ DO AND DARE WEEKLY. _ “They went away then, and it seemed like x another two years before you fellows came — and carried me off. Of course, Rush, I didn’t recognize your voice while you were talking _ with Gallegher, but when you and Saintsbury _ : - cast off and you began using your ordinary speech I knew who you were in a minute. I couldn’t speak, and so I began to squirm to attract your attention.” “You had-quite a time, Walt,” said Rush, — after a few moments of serious reflection. . “I think we had better get out of this, make straight for the theatre, and see if Jones is doing anything toward executing his plans for burning us out.” “Oh, that was all talk!” returned Walt. “How could he carry out such a plan as that | right under the noses of all the people about -the theatre ?”’ “That fellow is so- desperate he’s crazy,” said Rush, “and there is no telling what he’ll © do, or try to do.” “T’ll bet a hundred to one that Jones will. come with the other two to take possession of this bag and contents at that house below the wagon bridge,” spoke up Saintsbury, con- fidently. , “He may,” answered Rush, “but I don’t think he will. I think the chances are that. he went to the theatre right after he and — Saunders and Lavin left the room where Walt was.” “What makes you incline to that belief, — Mr. Rushington?” asked the detective. _ Thereupon Rush told them of the attack : which had been made upon Gladys Welling- ton at the theatre, and of how positive she had been that her assailant was Stamford Jones. om Q t RE LEI “Bosh!” exclaimed Walt. “She was mis- — taken, Rush, you can bank on that.” “She may have been. I thought so at the time, when I had your note saying that Jones was at Gallegher’s place in the Five Points. It seems to me now, however, that Gladys may not have been so much in error after all. What do you think of doing, Saintsbury ?” “Tf Mr. Arkwright will help me,’ replied the detéctive, ‘I have a plan which I would like to execute. I believe we can capture Jones and the other two as well.” “My time is my own until six o’clock,” said Walt, “and if Rush hasn’t anything on hand for me I will be glad to assist you, Mr. Saintsbury.” “T haven’t anything, Walt,” returned Rush. “Are you going to that house down the river, Saintsbury ?” : “That’s my intention,” replied the detect- ive. “T will go to the theatre, then, and we will thus cover both points. Between us, I think we ought to capture Jones.” ““T don’t see how he can get away,’ spoke up Walt. Rush was handling the oars, and he had driven the skiff to-the river bank some time _ before. Relinquishing the oars to Walt, Rush sprang ashore, and wishing his friends good luck, gave them a strong push toward the middle of the river: The young actor had landed under a high bank, which made that particular point rather obscure, and he took advantage of this fact to get rid of his aif make-up. Under the ragged garments of a hobo he wore his own clothes, his hat having been s DO AND DARE WEEKLY. ~~ 21 crushed compactly together and shoved into the breast of fic shirt. Collar and tie were also concealed about his clothes, and he had soon removed the tattered apparel, washed his face and hands in the river and made himself otherwise presentable. His tramp rig he wound up into a bundle and cast into the river. Then he mounted the bank and started off toward the town an altogether different per-. son. He did not have to go far before he reached a street car track, and after a few minutes’ wait he caught a car and was quickly speed- — ing back toward the theatre. When the main thoroughfare of the town was reached the jangle of a fire-bell was heard, and it brought Phil’s heart into his mouth. “Ts that a fire-alarm?” he asked of the pas- senger next to him. ‘“Yes,”’ answered the passenger, turning to look out of one of the car windows “It must be a big blaze, for it’s sending up a lot of black smoke.” The car stopped to let an engine and a hook-and-ladder wagon rumble across the tracks in front. “Tt looks as though it was~the Inman 3 Block, from here,’ volunteered the passen- ger, still looking. “Ts that anywhere near the Marlowe The- atre?”’ asked Rush. “By Jingo!” exclaimed the passenger. “It is the Marlowe Theatre—there’s no doubt about it. Whew! From the looks of things I should imagine the building will be a total loss. ‘Too bad for that company that was 9 . = po AND DARE WEEKLY. playing’ there. tremely profitable cngagement.” This will cut short an ex- Phil knew that if the Marlowe heatre was ~ a total loss the fire would cut short more than one profitable engagement for the Shirley & ifthe “‘props” were destroyed this fire would end Rushington Dramatic Company. the company’s season right there. Was it possible that Stamford Jones had succeeded in his nefarious purpose? It was beginning to look as though he had done his work only too well. Rush, pale and apprehensive, remained on the car until it was haited at the rear of a string of other cars, which found it impos- sible to proceed on account of the hose which was stretched across the track. Springing off the car, he ran along down the street until he reached the puffing en- gines, then forced his way through the dense crowd until he could look at the entrance and get a good view of the whole front of the theatre building. The entire top of the structure was in. flames and little flickering tongues of red “were reaching downward and inward from the sides. “Rushington!” exclaimeda voice, as a shaking hand rested on his arm. “I was wondering where you were. ‘This is the wind-up for us.” It was Shirley, Rush’s-partner in the en- terprise. Shirley’s face was white and set, and it was plain that he had nerved himself to bear the misfortune. “Are you sure, Shirley?” returned Rush. “Ts the case absolutely hopeless ?”’ ; “Absolutely! Not a trunk has been saved, and not a piece of scenery. Everything back of the footlights has already been eaten up.” “Are all the theatre employees safe? Is every one out of the building ?” “T believe so. There must have been am- ple time tor everybody to get away.” “No, no,” came a wild voice from coe as elbow; ‘Mamie is not here, and she must still be in there.” . Rush ipoked= around and saw Dora, pale with apprehension and anxiety. “What do you mean, Dora?” he demanded, in a startled tone. “Where and when did you leave Mamie?” ; “It was more than an hour ago, and she was in her dressing-room making some alter- ations in one of her costumes.” “How long did she think it would take her to make the alterations?” “Not over half an hour, she said.” “Then she must have left there in plenty of time,’ murmured Rush, heaving a tense breath. . - : “But she did not come back to the hotel,” persisted Dora. “That may be. If she had heard the fire- alarm before she reached the hotel she would have turned back to the theatre. The chances are that she is now somewhere in this big crowd.” : “Who are you talking about, Mr. Rush- ington?” asked a voice close at hand. it was the property-man, “Old Props,” - as the players familiarly called him. : “We're. talking about Mamie Meagen, Props,” replied Rush. “She was at the the- atre this afternoon. Did you see here — “T did that. She was in her dressing-room, and the whole place was full of smoke when — I ran after the horse. The animal was in the prop-room, and I had a time getting him out—couldn’t make him move a step until I had tied a cloth around his head. The last person | shouted to, Mr. Rushington, was Miss Meagen. She wanted to save some of the property in her trunk, she called back to me, and would go out in a minute. A sec- ond after I got away the flames ‘barred the stage entrance, and IJ am sure Miss Meagen hadn’t come out yet.” : + ein aR eerie oe x same: Has ai ee ween iat SSE FREE LE OIE wax WD Lp ERISA S OE OOF . ta “Great heavens!” cried Rush, aghast. “If what you say is true, Props, she must be in there and perhaps even now beyond help. If we had only known_this before, we——” His words were cut short by a muffled call for help, which came through the theatre en- trance and was heard above the crackling of the flames and the fall of timbers. ‘The cry was not repeated, and the entire crowd of spectators gave a gasp of. horror and waited and listened, silent as the dead. But Rush did not remain a passive on- looker. A moment after he had heard the scream he darted for the flaming entrance, pulling off his coat as he went. : CHAPIER Vf. A HEROIC DEED. “Come back!’ cried more than one voice in the crowd. “It’s sure death to try to go in there!” : Rush, however, paid no attention to these shouts of warning. ‘A fireman who stood nearest the doomed building caught.him and tried to hold him back. “You can’t go in there and live!’ declared the fireman, hoarsely. “Do you mean to abandon the girl in the building >” returned Rush, sharply. “Better that,” said the other, “than that two of you should be sacrificed.” Rush made no reply to this, but jerked himself free from the restraining hands, and the next instant plunged through the smoke which draped the theatre entrance like a veil. He felt that he had the task of his life be- fore him, but this did not cause him to shrink back or to become faint-hearted. On the con- trary, it stimulated him to his greatest exer- tions. The nearness of Mamie’s voice gave abun- dant proof that she was not in the back of the theatre. DO AND DARE WEEKLY. After the flames wrapped themselves about the stage entrance and made egress impossi- ble at that point, Mamie had no doubt tried to flee by the front, through the pit and foyer. When once through the rolling and tum- bling waves of smoke Rush found himself back of the seats in the orchestra circle and in an atmosphere that was comparatively clear. The heat, however, was like a furnace and nearly stifling. He managed to save himself from the worst effects of the hot air by throwing his coat around his head. To see was impossible anyway, so the coat was but little hindrance to his search. His head thus protected, he dropped on his . knees and groped around the half circle in the rear of the opera-chairs, but without result. On giving up his search in that. quarter, he arose and slid his hand along the hot wall, thus guiding himself back toward the place where he had begun to look for Mamie. As his fingers passed lightly over the face of the wall they came suddenly in contact with a rack containing hand-grenades, for use at just such a time as this. The flames, of course, were far and away beyond any control by such means, but Rush possessed himself of one of the extinguishers, thinking that it might be of use to him. It was well that he did so. Coming back to the point where his search. of the lower part of the house had com- menced, the young actor once more dropped down on his knees and-started along the gen- tle incline of the middle aisle. Every foot forward carried him into still more heated-air, and when he struck the pit and came out from under the shelter of the overhanging balcony the air was full of, fire- brands, which dropped from the roof. 24 Once Rush almost fainted, but recovered _ himself with a heroic effort and continued on through the blistering heat. His brave efforts, too, were rewarded, for he came upon Mamie before he had gone more than half way down the aisle. It was fortunate that he found her as he . did, for it is a question whether he could have gone much farther. Groping about with his hands, Rush dis- covered that Mamie was unconscious, lying just where she had fallen on being overcome by the smoke and heat after climbing over the footlights and making her way through the space reserved for the use of the musicians. Almost choked for breath, Rush tore away his collar and tie, slipped his watch into his trousers pocket and then cast aside his vest. He knew that he would have to carry Ma- mie and make a dash through the entrance, and he wished to have his movements as free and unrestricted as he could. It was a difficult matter for him to carry the hand-grenade, but he felt that he ought not to relinquish it just yet, and made shift to ¢ secure it about his person. Removing his coat and hurling it away, he stooped down, picked Mamie up in his arms and began his retreat from the building. Never before had the young athlete of Springvale Academy had such a tremendous task set for himself. The waves of smoke had given place to raging billows of flame, and the whole in- terior of the building seemed a mass of fire. Clenching his teeth and holding his breath, Rush bowed his head and dashed forward. The intense heat hurled itself into his face like a withering simoon, and more than once he staggered, almost fell, and was obliged to lean against chairs that bordered the aisle for an instant’s support. Had his recuperative powers not been so ~ great he would certainly have succumbed. Ty epee eS DO AND DARE WEEKLY. It was a gallant struggle that carried him — out of the pit, and barely had he reached the shelter of the balcony when several great beams fell crashing from the roof. : The entire building tottered as though about to collapse, and Rush paused a mo-- ment, fearful of the outcome. : But the walls remained upright, and the ‘way lay open for further efforts and possible escape. The steeper incline of the orchestra circle called forth every ounce of reserve power that Rush possessed. It seemed to him that he absolutely could not carry his helpless burden up the aisle to the foyer. a A kind fate befriended him, however, and he kept desperately and doggedly on until he passed the curtained doorway that led into. the open space this side the box-office lobby. Here, on one of the ‘broad divans, he sank down, gasping, for a brief respite; then up and on again, his brain reeling and a lurid mist before his eyes. Suddenly he halted. The flames had fastened-upon the wood- work which separated the foyer from the open space in front of the ticket-office, and he _was stayed by a blazing wall. Then he bethought himself of the hand-— grenade, and laid down his burden and launched the extinguisher into the midst of the seething fire. The result was instantaneous. A portion of the flames were quelled and died down into a sullen glow. Through this breach Rush dashed with his burden and on toward the entrance. — . All this happened in.a much shorter period — than it takes to tell it. . While the time passed swiftly to Rush, to the crowd without the minutes dragged like S ai Hours. = = Fy — Nearly all the members of the company had — 5 collecced in front of the burning theatre and formed an agitated and apprehensive little group. Gladys was there, and so was Dora and as Leora Roberts, and Roscoe Bingham, the light comedian, and Hillyer, Gibbs and Mr. Shirley. Pictures of Rush in his role of Eric Ayr on the bulletin boards at either side of the entrance remained strangely free from the | a F. 4 | oe i flames. “Rush will never come back,’ murmured Gladys, her eyes on the theatre entrance. “No man could ever go into that blazing Gehenna and emerge alive.” “Yes he will come back!” averred Dora, : tearfully. ‘The flames do not touch his pic- 4 tures on the bulletin boards, although they are all around them. ‘It is an omen, Gladys. Rush will come back, I know he will.” “It was a foolhardy thing for him to go in there,’ said Gibbs, in an aside to Shirley. “Gladys is right, and Rushington is done tor.” ~My God!” exclaimed Shirley. “It is hard enough to be burned out, without having a loss of life.” “T can’t see what kept Mamie in there,” re- marked Leora. “She stopped to get something out of her % trunk, the property man said,” answered Gladys. “And by so doing she has endangered Rushington’s life as well as her own,” said Leora. “Rushington can’t escape!’ declared Gladys again, her eyes riveted on the flaming entrance as by a kind of fascination. “Yes he can,” spoke up Bingham, “and he cult for any one else is easy for him. Be- sides, there is not a drop of cowardly blood in his body. Courage gives him confidence, and confidence is half of the battle,” Zoe _ DO AND DARE WEEKLY. will. He’s*an athlete, and a deed that is diff- - gt 25 eer “Thank you for that, Mr. Bingham,’ Dora, drawing closer to his side and giving him a grateful glance. “It may be a notion of mine, but I am sure that as long as Rush’s picture cn that bulletin board is untouched +9 by the flames he is safe, and Dora’s voice trembled and gave way, for just as she was speaking of Phil’s picture one of the bulletin boards tumbled forward and fell on its face. But that was not an ill-omen, because, - when the picture toppled and fell, a great shout went up from the crowd as Phil Rush- ington suddenly appeared with the girl. CHAPTER Vil. THE LAST OF _JONES. Rush was pale as death, and staggered as he came through the entrance. : On reaching the edge of the walk he lost his footing and fell to his knees. Immediately a number of firemen and Bingham, Hillyer, Shirley and Gibbs leaped toc his assistance. Mamie was taken tenderly from his arms and carried to a neighboring drug store, while Rush was lifted by a friend on either side and assisted through the crowd. The almost superhuman strength which had stood the young actor in good stead dur- ing his trying ordeal, seemed suddenly to have forsaken him. “T’m as weak as a cat,’ he muttered to Bingham. “I wonder where my muscle has all gone?” “You're a hero, Rush, a regular hero!” declared Bingham, enthusiastically. “Every one in the company was aware of that all ~ along, but the whole town knows it now.” “That’s right, Bingham,” spoke up Gibbs from the other side. “If we were to con- tinue our run in this town, ‘A Gentleman Born’ would play to standing room only.” “Ym afraid that ‘A Gentleman Born’ has 26 seen its last performance this season,” an- ~swered Rush. oo All about him the crowd was cheering and yelling like mad. Men, women and children pressed in from all sides and tried to grasp the hand of the pale and handsome young actor who had dis- tinguished himself by such bravery. The gitls, Dora, Leora and Gladys, made frantic efforts to reach Phil, but the crowd surged in between and they could not get anywhere near him. : “Can you see whether he’s hurt or not, Gladys?” asked Dora. ~“T hear them say that he isn’t injured at all,’ replied Gladys, “orlly weak and ex- hausted, nothing more. They’re trying to get him to the drug-store, where Mamie was taken, but the crowd is so enthusiastic it is hard for them to get through.”’ A flood of joy and thankfulness passed over Dora and she started a college ery that was familiar to her in the old school days -by Lake Adineo—when she attended the Normal and Rush was a student at the Academy. “Rah, ’rah, ’rah, Rush+ing-ton, brave-and- frie. roh, tal rah!” The yell caught like wildfire. It was roared and shouted from one end of the crowd to the other, and Rush’s heart leaped when he heard it, for he knew very well where it had started. “Such is glory, such is fame,” chanted the smiling Bingham as he and Gibbs helped Rush to mount the steps leading to the drug- SOLE. ‘Rush’s pale face was flushed a deep red as he reached the top of the steps and turned and bowed his acknowledgments. | ‘“Now, let’s go in,” he said, hastily. “That’s the biggest ‘hand’ you ever got in your life, Rush,” declared Gibbs. “It ought to. be a tonic for any man.” “Its is,” replied Rush, “and I feel \better “po AND DARE WEEKLY. already. I can stand just about so much of this sort of thing, though, and then I have _to back out. Open the door, please, Bing- Hanh ‘The comedian opened the door and they passed into the drug-store and Rush sat down © on a revolving stool in front of the soda fountain. | The druggist had a stimulating draught ready and, as the hot drink coursed through | his veins, the young actor’s strength returned swiftly. hs “Where is the young lady who was just brought in?” queried Rush, looking around. I “She is in.a rear room,” replied the drug- gist. “There is a lounge there, and she is lying down. “How is she?” | “All right, and not harmed at all, so far as. Lean: see.’ “That seems too good to be true!” ex-. claimed Rush. “Our company is ruined, but if no lives were lost, neither Shirley nor I _will have any demur.to make.” Just then Dora, Gladys and Leora were admitted into the room by a clerk, who was standing guard at the door. -Kushing up to. Phil, Dora threw her arms about his neck and gave him a hug and a kiss. ? “You dear old fellow!” she whispered in his ear. “My hero, aren’t you?” “Always!” Rush whispered back, with fervor. o : : After Dora, Gladys embraced and kissed him with equal warmth, and then Leora did likewise, but neither of them received the message which Rush had given to Dora. “See what it means to be a hero and claim tribute!’ exclaimed Gibbs, smilingly. “T should say,” echoed Bingham. you and Wellington and Roberts might pass that around.” | ae The drug-clerk at the door smiled sweetly Horas FR GREER RE 2S ARE ES AR ENA brushed his pompadour back with his fingers and took one expectant step forward. But he was frozen with a stare from Gla- dys, and turned meekly back to the door. “Tf you and Gibbs will do as well as Rush,’ _said Leora, ‘we will be glad to favor you in the same way.” “Thanks,” returned Bingham, with a cov- ert wink at Rush, “it’s too much of a risk.” Just then Mamie came.in from the back room, leaning on the arm of Hillyer. When her eyes caught sight of Rush, she left Hillyer and ran toward him, repeating the operation which Rush had already un- dergone for three consecutive times. “IT am glad to see you so well, Mamie,” said Rush, getting up and forcing her down on one of the seats. He had known Mamie from childhood and his regard for her was deep and sincere. “Sure, Rushy,” answered Mamie, “I’m Irish an’ th’ wonder is that I fainted at all, at all. darlint, I'll niver forget.” What ye’ve done f'r me this day, “You would do as much for me, wouldn’t you, if you had the chance?” iy me, that's au.” “Then say .no more about it, little girl. I know you're grateful, and let it go at that. Why did you remain so long in the theatre after Props had called you to come away?” “Faith, I was tryin’ t’ foind out who the blackguard was thet set the fire. For it was set, Rushy, there’s niver a doubt about that. It was th’ divil’s own worruk, too, that’s what it was,” “I know it was set, Mamie, but did you discover who did it?’ “I did that. It was Stamford Jones, crazy fande that he is. He ran upstairs loike a ‘deer, me afther him an’ bent on chokin’ him good av I could get me two hands on his throat. But he got away, bad cess to him! Just as I was about t’ grab him he l’aped DO AND DARE WEEKLY 87 through a window. It was quite a drop he. ‘had, too, and I looked down to find out how he had stood it, but th’ smoke was too thick and I couldn’t see.” “What did you do after that?” “T made my way back toward th’ stage en- trance, but howly St. Pathrick! the hull back part av th’ theayter was jest a crackin’, ““Mamie, me girl,’ says I to mesilf, ‘av ye get out av this wid a whole shkin ye’ll have to be doin’ some pretty swift worrick.’ “Wid that I goes back t’ th’ stage, over th’ - footlights, down through th’ menagerie an’ part way along the middle aisle. Then, glory be, somethin’ in me frame give out all to once an’ I let off a yell, keeled over on the shpot an’ all was a blank from that toime till Ay it hadn’t been’ f’r yer brave self, Rush, I wouldn’t I awoke an’ found mesilf here. have waked at all.” “You had a narrow escape, Mamie,” said Rush; “in fact, we both did, for that mat- ter. But all’s well that ends well, so far as we are concerned.” At that moment a tall, lean form, clad in a frock coat and battered silk hat—both of which had seen better days—appeared at the door, glowered through the glass, and per- emptorily demanded admittance. “He’s Algernon Briggs and belongs to our company,’ called Rush to the drug-clerk. an ial “Please let him in,” Mr. Briggs was duly admitted, and stalked up to Rush like a tragedian playing Hamlet. “It is seemly, Mr. Rushington,” said he, “that I should congratulate you upon your narrow escape. This I do, right heartily.’ “Thank you, Briggs,’ answered Rush, giving his hand a shake. “I am also commissioned to deliver to you a message from Mr. Shirley. If you will hearken, I will repeat it.”’ “Tl hearken,” smiled Rush. “Very good. The message runs in this 28 wise: Bring Mr. Rushington at once to me. Tell him that Stamford Jones is here, wound- ed and dying, and that he og desires to see Mr. Rushington.” “At last!” exclaimed Phil. “I knew that, sooner or later, Jones would come to the end of his rope. Ladies’—he turned to Mamie, Dora and the others—“let me request you to get into a carriage and return to the hotel. It is needless to tell you that there will be no performance to-night, nor for many nights, and I wish all the ladies and gentlemen be- longing to the company would assemble at the hotel within an hour from now, so that Mr, Shirley and I may have a talk with you.” Immediate assent was given by all present and Rush and Briggs left the drug-store. The fire fighters were doing valiant work on the burning theatre, but the utmost they could do, as was now thoroughly apparent, was to prevent the flames. from spreading to The other contiguous buildings. theatre structure was doomed. Briggs avoided the crowd in front of the fire by making a detour of a block. He then conducted Rush to a livery stable in the rear of which, on a pile of straw, Stam- ford Jones was paying the price of his mis- deeds. ee A doctor was standing over him, on one side, and Shirley was on the other. _ About them, in a little group, were a num- ber of stable employes and morbidly curious people who had come in from the street. As Rush drew near, the bystanders broke away in order that he might come close. “He has but a few minutes to live,” said “The firemen found him in the alley back of the theatre. He had undoubtedly set the fire and then tried to escape by dropping from one of the upper Shirley, in a low tone. windows. The doctor says he is hurt inter- ex S nally.” plete 45 00 cn about Ais setting the — DO AND DARE WEEKLY. answered Rush. thing about it, yet?” “No. He has refused to say anything until you got here.” fire,” Jones was lying with closed eyes, his head thrown back and his arms and legs sprawied a out on the straw. The ravages of dissipation, of drink and still more deadly morphine were visible in the deep cut lines of his face and in his sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. oe While Rush. stood studying the unfortu- nate actor’s features, he opened his dull eyes. For a moment they were blank of expres- sion, then gradually a look of understand- ing crept into them. He attempted to speak, but the effort choked him and a red tide came from his lungs and dyed his lips. : The doctor held a tin dipper and he soon down and gave the dying man a drink of the stimulant he had prepared. The effect was immediate and Jones again attempted to talk, this time with better suc- cess. on said he, faintly, the old, “T would gladly give my life to have you lying here “Rushington,’ vengeful spirit strong within him. beside me, wounded unto death, just as I aie Rush made no answer whatever to this, and, after a brief pause, Jones went on. said he, ‘‘that it was No one else had “T wanted to tell you,” I who fired the theatre. anything to do with it. I would have set fire to the theatre even if I had succeeded in killing you by blowing up that automo- bile? ‘Did you intend to kill the others who * asked Rush. “They were your friends, were they not?” “What are friends to me when there is an. opportunity to glut my vengeance: Bes As he spoke, a demoniacal light blazed in were with me, as well?’ his eyes. . “Has he said any- — ie pe aa Shiga titRaiaars ah ets aula tienes He was insane, there was no possible doubt of that, and the only feeling Rush treas- ured for him, in spite of what he had done, was one of deepest pity. “Your friends escaped injury by that ex- plosion, and so did I,” said Rush. “You should be thankful in. this hour that you have not my blood to answer for, nor the blood of any of the others.” “T wish to heaven I did have your blood to answer clenched teéth. “If this is all you brought me _ here 3) for,” observed Rush, “I might as well leave you. There is no benefit to either of us in talk of this kind.” “What I want to tell you is that I, alone, was the one who kindled the fire in the thea- tre. Neither Saunders, nor Lavin had any- thing to do with it. even with Shirley for running Hallock out I swore that I would be of business, and I think I have kept my oath and. kept it well.” ; He paused again. “It was easily done,” he resumed, after a few moments. “The painters have a shop under the stage, and I hired a man to let me carry in a bucket of white lead. “There was only one painter at work this afternoon, and I succeeded in evading him and hid myself away in a pile of old scenery. While lying there I laid my plans. Singular to say, although I had come to the theatre with the purpose of firing it, | had forgotten matches. The painter was smoking a pipe and must have had some, but I could not Sope to get any from him. I knew I would have to fall back on the dressing-rooms and I sneaked out of the pile of scenery and up the stairs. “A little while before, I had heard Gladys Wellington and Gibhs at work on the stage, so I made straight for Miss Wellington’s dressing-room, secured a box of matches and DO AND DARE for,’ returned Jones, through his. HHKLY. 29 ~ I have no grievance against Miss Wellington and I was about to leave when she came in. had to use force in order to get away. I am sorry if I hurt her. ; “After that, I skulked back to my pile of scenery and was there when Miss Welling- ton and Gibbs came down, looking for me. When they went away I had to wait until Then I took all the oil that was being used and the painter finished his work and left. scattered it everywhere. It took but a mo- ment, alter that, td. touch the thing om 1 tried to escape, but the Irish girl saw me and chased me up a stairway. I leaped froma . window and that was what played havoc with me. I have accomplished a ood deal, and I suppose I ought to be satisfied, but I can't say that E am.” Jones had a good deal of difficulty in get- tine through with this lengthy speech, He would choke, and cough, and have a sinking spell, and the doctor was compelled to administer the stimulant several times. “After the explosion of the automobile,” said Rush, “didn’t you meet Saunders and Lavin at Gallagher’s resort in the Five Points, and didn’t you then plan to set the fire?” Jones showed as much surprise as he was capable of doing. “How do you know that?” he asked, faintly. | “Arkwright told us. rescue Him out of Gallagher’s clutches and 39 We were able to “You rescued Arkwright?” cried Jones, in a burst of anger, raising himself up on his’ “You got him 99 arm by a spasmodic effort. out of Gallagher’s place and His eyes were ablaze with fury, his body shook and quivered with the rage that swept through it, and a demoniacal look convulsed his face. Whether it was that he had set such store by the treatment Walt was to receive at the $0 hands of Saunders and Lavin, or etic the lack of morphine which his diseased system called for, goaded him to madness, will never be known. Yet, certain it is that. that spasm of anger was more than the racked frame of the actor could stand. While his eyes were gazing upward at Rush, they began to grow dim with the dim- ness of death. , suddenly he threw up his arms, fell back- ward and expired without a sound. “He was perfectly irresponsible,” the doctor, kneeling down and closing the lids of the dead man’s eyes. “What he has. done this day will never be brought against him at the Grand Assize. Morphine had turned his brain—it will turn any one’s brain if its use is persisted in. Gentlemen, there is nothing further for us to do here. Will he be buried at the expense of the county?” “INO, 1 think not,” said Rush. “He has a relative in this town—a conductor on the trolley line—who will probably come forwar and bear the expense. If the conductor does not foot the bill, however, I will.” That was like Rush. Notwithstanding the evil which Stamford Jones had done him, his generous spirit im- pelled him to come forward with the offer he had just made. As Rush and Shirley were leaving the barn Walt and Saintsbury came in. “Well, Saintsbury,” said Rush, “you didn’t get your man, did you?” “No,” answered the detective, quickly; “did you?” a “YT was too late. He fired the theatre and killed himself trying to escape by an upper window.” ~ “Killed himself!” exclaimed Saintsbury. “Well, well, well! Perhaps it’s. better for himself, though. We come back empty- handed and my assistant has returned from the country with that horse and buggy a “Did your assistant find Evelyn Leonard?” — “She gave him the slip and he found the _ horse and buggy tied to a fence.” “How about McGonigle?” “He’s on deck with an offer of $1,000 apiece for the ee who made off with ue Ao ROO DO AND DARE WEEKLY. — observed “Why, he oe buy a new ‘mobe’ of ao kind for $1,500 or $2,000, couldn’t he?” “Sure, put that’s the kind of a man Mc- _ Gonigle is.’ “Have you taken the job?” “Yes, and my next move will be to capture the woman and her two accomplices. Will you help me?” = At can.” “Thanks ; I may call on you when you least expect it. Where is Jones, now?” Rush pointed toward the rear of the barn, and Saintsbury went back, viewed the re- mains and satisfied himself that there was no mistake. When he returned to the sidewalk, Rush introduced him to Mr. Shirley: The detective then went away some place to talk with his assistant, and Walt, Rush, Shirley and Briggs started for the hotel. CHAPTER VIII. CONCLUSION. “Verily,” remarked Briggs, puffing out his chest and slipping his hand into the breast of his coat, “this is what 1 term an era of hard luck. As a tramp tragedian, an actor of the old school, I fell among the Philistines, and friend Rushington proved the Good Samari- tan, pulled me out of my troubles and gave me a place in his company. I was to create a role of banner-carrier in a procession of 39 supes “You did it in: tip-top shape,” broke in. Rush. . “Vea, so. l did; I created the role and played it with great success for one consecu- tive night. the highways once more, wasting my genius on the desert air?” “T’ll take care of you, Briggs,” said Rush. “Don’t borrow any trouble on that head.” “Most noble friend!” exclaimed Briggs, choked with emotion. “I wish to ask a favor | of you, Mr. Rushington—that is, in case ‘A Gentleman Born’ rests quiescent for a term of days and you have the liberty and the in- clination to give me a aid. “The chancés are, for a term of months.” And now what? Am I to tramp ~ put in Mr. Shirley, “that ‘A Gentleman Born’ will rest quiescent — “In that case,” said Rush, “I will be very glad to give you my aid, Mr. Briggs.’ ’ “Thank you, most gracious sir. At the proper time I shall request your assistance, and it is very possible that your work will not be devoid of a remuneration in dollars and cents.” Shortly afterward they reached the-hotel, and over a late dinner Shirley and Rush de- cided what they were to do. The total loss of scenery and costumes was a blow from which it would be hard to re- cover that season. The two partners were agreed, however, that they should at once begin to have new scenery made and painted and fresh costumes made. This would probably take two or three months, and it was decided that Mr. Shirley should proceed to New York and begin the rehabilitation of the play. : “A Gentleman Born’ was too great a moneymaker to be cast aside, and they were resolved, even though they must miss the Christmas and holiday business, that they would finish out the last few months of the season as they had commenced. If any change was to be made, it would probably consist of taking on another play or two— ‘East Lynne,” perhaps, or “Fhe Silver King’—and having a repertoire, which was decidedly a good thing for comparatively long runs in small cities. But, whatever other plays they decided to use, “A Gentleman Born” was to form their main attraction. As for the people, they expected that they would lose some of them, for none of them - could afford to lose two of the most profitable months of the season. Even Phil would have to look around for something to occupy him during the interval. He had no doubt that he and Walt could find a profitable engagement, and as for Dora and Mamie, they could go home and wait un- til the company could be put on its feet again. The girls would like this arrangement, be- cause they wanted to spend the Christmas holidays among their own people, anyway. * Rush’s nearest relative was an uncle, and that gentleman, Rush was certain, would not feel very greatly rejoiced to have his nephew around at any time of the year. DO AND DARE. WEEKLY. - . 31 Acc te and Shitley had resched an aor -ment, Rush turned to Walt, who was sitting at his other side. “You haven't told me yet, old man,” said he, “what you and Saintsbury tried to do: aiter I left you.” “We tried to do a whole lot,” answered Walt, “and didn’t succeed in doing a thing. If we didn’t catch Jones, we were at least figuring on getting hold of Saunders: and Lavin. Saintsbury’s plan was that-1 should crawl into the sack and remain there until the men we were after came down to the boat, as Gallagher told you they were going to do.” - “That was-a very good plan, it strikes me,” commented Rush. “Theoretically it was fine, but practically it wasn’t worth a cent. I got into the bag and waited there until I was about smothered, and then we decided that the fellows we were waiting for had tumbled to our racket. It was about this time, too, that we saw a lot of smoke over in the town. It seemed to us that this smoke arose from somewhere near the spot where the Marlowe Theatre stood. That settled the matter, so far as we were con- cerned, and we put off across the river and made in this direction. “About the first man we met when we reached the scene of the fire was Bingham. He informed us as to what had occurred, and told us where we could find you. He didn’t tell us anything about Jones, however, and . when you told us he was dead it came as a big surprise.” “It was quite a Surprise to me, too, when I learned of it.” “Will the company disband, Rush?” “T think so. We can’t do anything, you know, until we get a lot of new. properties, and that will take at least two months. We can’t expect to hold the people together for that length of time.” “What will you do in the meantime ?” “Hunt for something else.” “Take me with you?” “T’d like to. It would seem kind of queer to go any place without you, Walt.” “That’s what I think about you, Rush.” Walt presented his hand. “Shake on that.” - They sealed the sentiment with a cordial clasp. 32 “What about the girls?” inquired Walt. Rush explained what he thought it would be best for them to do, and his chum con- curred with him fully. “Will you use any more plays in addition to ‘A Gentleman Born?’” asked Walt. - Rush said that he thought they would put on one or two more. _ “Shall I be slated as one of the populace, or to carry a banner, or to come in, duck my head and remark, oe lord, the carriage waits ?”’ thy; Walt?” “Well, if you intend to give me anything like that, I'll sink my histrionic aspirations and go ee home and get a job of Seg in a orocery “Don’t do that, old man,” smiled ae “Tl see to it personally that you get a first- class part.” “tats all J can. ask, “And -when we begin with ‘A Gentleman Born’ once more, you shall play the lead with me. I'll go on one night, and you the next.” “Rush, you're a brick!” cried Walt. The meal over, Rush, Walt, Mr. Shirley and Briggs went upstairs to the parlor, where the actors and actresses were waiting to hear what they might expect in view of the mis- fortune which had befallen them. Mr. Shirley made a speech, and set forth the conclusiéns at which he and Rush had atrived. He wound up his remarks by announcing that each and every one of them would be paid the next morning for one full week and for an extra week in advance. He also stated that he hoped the people -who had been with him for so long would not get so far away, or tie themeslves up so tightly, that they could not come back and resume their places in the cast when “A Gen- tleman Born” was again ready for the boards. " Expressions of regret from all the players were unanimous and sincere, and each reiter- ated the statement that they would surely return and join the company whenever Messrs. Shirley and Rushington were ready : for them. And thus it was that the company came to disband in the middle of an Beret: pros- _ perous season. DO AND DARE Ww EEKLY. It was a day or two, fovores before they scattered and went their several ways, and a- number of exciting events were destined to happen in which nearly all were to be con- cerned. This was the indirect cause of a new ae gagement for Rush, Walt, Dora and Mamie —an engagement that was short, full of ex- periences and not very profitable. The next issue of this weekly will have to deal with those affairs, and will be entitled “Phil Se Ruse ; or, Trapping An Eee oY THE END. —_—__-_$++0><<_—. Pe te 1 (20 DaTEST ISSUES. 388—Phil Rushington’s~ ‘Ruse; or, Trapping an Hm- bezzler. 387—Phil Rushington’s Bravery; ~ Newcastle. 86—Phil Rushington’s Curtain-Raiser; or, the House by Storm. 35—Phil Rushington’s Encore; or, One-Night Stand. 34—Phil Rushington’s Leading Lady; Cut Diamond. 38—Phil Rushington’s Make-Up; or, Off the Stage. oe eS Cue; or, A New Hit in an Old ay. iz 81—Phil Rushington’s Protegee; or, The Trials of a —- Footlight Favorite. 80—Phil Rushington’s Dramatic Role; or, The Risk - of an Understudy. i 29—Phil Rushington’s Girl Wonder; or, The Rope- Walker’s Peril. é 28—Phil Rushington’s Hoodoo; or, Something Wrong With the Show. 27—Phil Rushington’s Dash; or, The Last Act in the Hippodrome. 26—Phil Rushington’s Stampede; or, A Serious Hitch in the Parade. 25—Phil Rushington’s Specialty; or, bear’’ in the Main Tent. 24—Phil Rushington’s Tackle; or, Clearing Out the Swindlers. 283—Phil” Rushington’s Foes; or, The Man Who Nearly Stole the Cireus. . 22—Phil Rushington’s Smash-up, and a New Re- cruit for the Sawdust Ring. 21—Phil Rushington’s Hnemies; or, Saving His Reputation. : 20—Phil Rushington’s Search; or, The Unknown Rider of the Ring. 19—Phil Rushington’s Prize; or, The Show for Tent Number Two. 18—Phil Rushington’s Race; | or, The Pursuit of the Rival Circus. 17—Phil Rushington’s Temptation; or, An Act Not - Down on the Bills. 16—Phil eee s Clown; or, The Secret of the Star Rider. 15—Phil Rushington’s Rivals; or, One Town. ‘ 14—Phil Rushington’s Loss; or, A Lion Hunt in the or, Burned Out at Taking Trouble at a or, Diamond A Specialty “Bear and For- Three Shows. in City - 138—Phil PueninEion: s Home Trip; or, Two Kinds of a now. 12—Phil Rushington’ s Star Rider; or, Rivals of the Rin : 1i—Phil Reichingiew’ s Great Show; or, Another — Whirl of Fortune’s Wheel. 10—Phil Rushington’s Set Back; or, Fast Friends and Fickle Fortune, §9—Phil Rushington’s Soubrette; or, The Rockdale “The Play’s the Success. 8—Phil Rushington’ s New Role; or, hin Thing. 7—Phil Rushington's Friends; or, Springvale Boys in a Lumber Camp. 6—Phil Rushington’s Danger; or, A Bright Light for Friends. 5—Phil Rushington’s Pranks; or, The a Sessions at Springvale. “Back numbers always onnand. 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