| COMMENCES “SBE C. Little’s Interesting Serial o CO MMENCES) : cece NEES EAT rr ora | Sa ae Issued Weekly and Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1906, by FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D.C. ae = oe jdt = cs 5 Suddenly the door flew open; and a young Man coming in with it measured his length on the floor. He was rather a good-looking fellow, somewhat older than Ben, but his face bore evident traces of extended dissipa- tion. - His expensive clothes “were - polled and torn, and his whole appearance went to make plain his condition. The young man was in a state of in- - toxication. And this should have been the last place for him to show himself, for he was Charles — Knight, the nephew and adopted son of the Wall street broker, whose wealth was estimated at five millions at least. Neither Ben nor the spoke. That they made no effort to help the fellow on his feet need scarcely be said. He did not need it, however. : The shock of his fall had the effect of sobering him a bit, as it often does in such cases, and he ‘scrambled up himself. “Hello, Ben!” he mumbled. “How do, Julie! Slipped and fell, Your blamed floor is—is slippery. Can’t be helped. All O. K. | now!” Charley Knight was of the variety of _ drunkard who are drunker in their legs ‘than in their. heads. He always knew what he was about in a general way, and usually he was harm- less enough, though once in a while, if : aes an ugly fit would develop. _ Julie rattled away. at her typewriter, and Ben kept his eyes fixed en the big ledger. “Shay, has—has the boss come off the _ Board yet?” pursued Charley. - five and charge it my ’count.” stenographer “Do you see him here anywhere?” de- manded Ben, without looking up. “No; he hasn’t come in.” “Thash too bad; but mebbe you can fix it, Ben.” c Fix what?” “The—er—the Pnanshul cueeee a ~ No answer. ~ “Gotter have mon—money. Lemme have “You have no account here, Mr. Knight. Mr. Van Duzer’s orders are that I don’t give you any more money.” “Thash so?” “Yes, it’s -s0.” “Thash too bad. How—how’s a feller going to live without money?” ‘No answer. “Hear what I shay?” cried Charley, rais- ing his voice. ‘“How’s a feller going to live without mon—money?” : “Don’t bother me, Mr. Knight. I’m try- ing to work off my balance. Your uncle will be in inside of a few minutes. Sit down and wait for him like a good fel- low. Probably he’ll give you what you want.” “Thash all right; Ben. one con—condishun.” © “What's that?” Charley Knight had been edging up to- ward the pretty stenographer. Now suddenly he threw an arm about her neck and gave it a squeeze. “Condishun is that Julie gimme kish,” he answered. He bent down and would have kissed the girl if she had remained passive. - But she didn’t! A stinging slap in the face was Julie Cardozo’s answer. “Vou horrid, drunken brute! Don’t you lay a hand on me!” ghe screamed. She threw his arm off and sprang to her feet, her eyes blazing and her cheeks fiery Pl1—T'll do it on “red. Then it was Ben to the rescue. -—“VYou quit your nonsense, Charley Knight!” he eried, darting out from be- hind the desk. “I'll throw you out of the Office if you don’t behave!” Probably this movement on Ben’s ue | was just what Charley had been figuring on, for, aS we have already remarked, he was seldom so drunk that he did not know what he was about. Behind the desk was the big safe, and the cash drawer stood open. There was only a hundred dollars or so in it, for Ben had already made his daily deposit. All this Charley knew very well. He ducked and dodged behind the desk. Before Ben could get at him he had pull- ed out the cash drawer. “You. push that back!” shouted Ben. He did not like to lay hands on the fel- low, for he was not quite sure how his employer would take it. “Won’t do it,” retorted Charley, side stepping out from behind the desk. “Wouldn’t gimme five, now I take nee bizness—she?” His hand was already in the prance. when Ben seized hold of it and tried to wrench it away. At the sathe instant the door opened and a sedate-fooking old gentleman ae in. ~ It was Broker Van Duzer. = Charley gave a wrench, and Ben, startled by the sudden appearance of his employer, let go the drawer. The result was what might have been \ expected. Charley fell backwards on the _ floor, while the drawer going up, the broker was deluged by flying greenbacks and coin. “What. on earth is all this?” gasped Mr. Van Duzer. There was a twenty- dollar bill on his shoulder and a five on the crown of his hat, while a ten-dollar goldpiece had struck his eyeglasses, knocking them off his nose. “Vou see for yourself, sir,” replied Ben, white with excitement. “It is no fault of mine. I was simply trying to keep Mr. Knight from robbing the drawer.” “Oh, the shame of it! The disgrace of it!” exclaimed Van Duzer. “My own Sis- ter’s son! But I’ll bring matters te a head. This ends right now! ” Charley Knight meanwhile had managed to get on his feet and stood leaning against the: wall with a silly smile on his face. “Shay, Governor, you needn’t get mad about it,” he stammered. “Had to have money. Ben wouldn’t give it tome. Had to do what [ did.” Broker Van Duzer. adjusted his gldsses and looked him over without speaking for a moment. i His.face was white and drawn, the per- spiration stood out all over his forehead, and his.hand trembled, but his voice was perfectly steady when he asked: “Ben, how much money was in the cash drawer?” “A hundred and thirty-one dollars, sir,” replied Ben. “Pick it up, please. drawer back first.” “Ca—can’t I have five dollars, uncle?” Charley demanded. “Yes,” replied the broker. minute.” “Al right. Ben picked up the money. You can put the “Just wait a No hurry. Take yer time.” _ eee it all #0) nae, 2 said Mr. Van Duzer. a liberal,” I—T’ll take’ it. “Oh, shay, yer too Charley. “Never mind. Mush obliged.” “Take it and go!” cried the broker, sternly. “Leave this office. -Never enter it again. Never again address me as uncle. Charles, I cast you off. I have endured enough. From this hour I disown you. Gor The young high- roller beted to talk, but Mr. Van Duzer went into his private of- fice and loeked himself in. “Never you mind, Ben Leslie!” snarled Knight. “This is all your fault. Tl go now, but—but Ill fix you for this.” And with this threat he did go and took the money with him. And with this disagreeable experience began the train of events which were destined. to have such marked effect upon Ben Leslie’s future career. CHAPTER II. “WAY NOT A MAN DO AS HE WILL WITH HIS OWN?” Broker Jacob Van Duzer eame of good old Knickerbocker stock, and, like most men of the Dutch extraction, he was a person of few words. He did not come out of the private of- fice until after Julie Cardozo tad gone and Ben himself was ready to depart. Then the door opened and the broker walked out as calm and unruffled as though nothing disagreeable. had oceurred.- But thé pallor was still ‘upon him, and he looked to Ben, as he had been looking | for the past two weeks—like a very sick man, “Ben,” he said, “do you have to go home to-night?” “Well, I- suppose I don’t have to, Mr. Van Duzer,” replied Ben, rather puzzled, fer his employer had always held himself rather aloof. “If I can help you in any way——” he was adding, when the broker interrupted. him with: “Vou can. If you feel that you can do so without interference with your own en- gagements, I would like to have you go with me on my yacht. To-morrow is Sat- urday, and there will be nothing doing. T am going to take a run to Shelter Island. Can you go with me, Ben?” “Tt think so, sir. If 1 can notify my mother 2 “Write her a note and send it by mes- senger.” “But “Well?” “T may need to go home. These clothes “Are good enough. Anything else you need I can supply on the yacht. I want you to go with me now, Ben. [Pm a very sick man, and—and I’m afraid I am going to be worse. 1! want to talk with you about several matters. I think it will pay you to remain with me over Sunday, Ben.” “All right, sir. There is no real reason why I should not go.” : But Ben would have found a reason if Mr. Van Duzer had not looked as he did and had not urged him so strongly. The broker was not in any sense a man to'draw young people close to him. He had never married; he was like most old bachelors, fussy and very critical. — In all his dealings with Ben Leslie he had never treated him other than an em- ployer would naturally/treat an employee, and he had not always been easy to please. Thus Ben rather dreaded the proposed trip. But having assented, there was no draw- ing back. They went to the Battery boat landing in a cab and were taken off to the Never- sink, a fine steam yacht on board of which Mr. Van Duzer spent much of his time. And in his life on board the broker again displayed his peculiarities. — He rarely entertained .friends on the Neversink. : As Ben subsequently learned, no woman had ever stepped on the deck. Mr. Van Duzer had no valet—he would not eyen have a waiter at table except when entertaining. Surrounded by every. luxury which wealth could command, he spent most of his spare time entirely alone. “You must make yourself fully at home here, Ben,” he said, after they had de- scended to the cabin. “This will be your room. If you want anything you can touch the electric bell and one of the, boys: will wait on you. on myself. I will see you at dinner.” Thus saying, Mr. Van Duzer retired to his own. room and did not reappear unti? seven o’clock, at which hour dinner was served. . Meanwhile the yacht had run up the Sound and was now off Hempstead Harbor. Ben had been enjoying the sail in a way, but still his mind was troubled. He felt as though something was hang- ing over him. He could not recollect that he had ever -felt such a strange uneasiness before. The dinner was all put on the table at once, even to the desert. It was well cooked and decidedly Italian ‘in style. : Mr. Van oF. informed Ben that the chuckled As for me, I always wait | yacht steward was an Italian, and he spc | of the man in the highest terms. When one course was ended, Mr. Va Duzer got up himself and. arranged ‘th next one. He opened wine. and having waited his guest, sat down to eat himself. Ben noticed that his hand continuall trembled, ang that the pallor never le his face. : ee After dinner was over-they went on dec and sat in the moonlight smoking. —_ Then Mr. Van Duzer began to questio the boy about himself. “How old are you now, Ben?” he sudden ly asked. “JT shall be twenty my “next birthd sir,” replied Ben. “And you look two years older, at least. Let me see; I think your father is dead and your mother lives—is that right?” = Les, Sir,” “Brothers and sisters?” “I haven’t any, sir.” “IT see. Ben, you came into my employ a poy of fourteen. I remember the da well. I didn’t take to you, I'll admit. —1 didn’t expect you would last a week. You have lasted nearly six years, and you have made good in every particular. You kno to-day more about my business than . know myself.” “T have tried to do my best, sir.” “You have, and your best has been very good. Would that you and not ne Scan thief and liar had been my sister’ son.” “Don’t you think, if Mr. Knight could. be put in some good sanitarium Ben. “He has already been in four,” inte rupted the broker. “He don’t want to re form. His case is hopeless. I said that I was done with him forever, and I meant, it. Now look here, Ben!” “Well, sir?” “T am ‘a very sick man. I have bee ailing for a month, and the doctors don seem to get at my trouble. If I die I don want my name to die with me on Wall street. Will you help me to keep it alive? “Sir! I °F “Oh, I understand. This comes to yo unexpectedly. I intended it should. No look here, Ben, during the last. week have incorporated the firm name of Jaco Van Duzer. I am now a stock company. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir!” “If I die I want you to go right on with the business under the old name. Will you promise me to do it, Ben?” : “But, sir . “No buts, boy.” “IT was going to say how can it be ar- ranged?” . “Basily. I have made a will leaving you sole heir to My stock in the Jacob Van Duzer Company, otherwise to the business, and bequeathing you also my seat on the Stock Exchange, which of course you will 3 not be able to use until you come of age.” Ben gasped. The last recorded price for a Stock Ex- chance seat was $98,000: Even aside from the business, the legacy — was a fortune in itself for a poor Wall” street lad who had never had anything but his salary to look forward to. “Why, Mr. Van Duzer,” he began, ean [——” “How can you thank me? ing me in words but in deeds. : name alive. I don’t care to leave My mon-- ey to charities to have it stolen by a Jot of rascally officials. I have only two rela- tives in the world, a brother, to whom I haven't spoken for years, and who is — known by another name, -and the low sot whom you know so well. Neither of them shall have a cent of my money, Ben.” What did the man mean? To Ben’s certain knowledge he was worth at least $5,000,000, and there might be more. Could Mr. Van Duzer _be thinking of mak- ing him his sole heir, as his remarks would ¢ “how By not thank- ~ ; seem to imply? Ben was not to be kept long in doubt “Not one penny!” continued the broker “T can’t take my wealth with me when die and I had rather by far see a fine young fellow like you step into my shoes than to leave my money to those I hate and de- | spise, and so, Ben He paused and looked the boy full in the eye. “Well, sir?” gasped Ben, hardly know- ing what to say. “And .so I have determined to add a codicil to my will cutting off Knight, who is named heir to all but m seat on the Board and the business, and substituting you in his place.” It had come! It was as Ben had thought. “Mr. Van Duzer!” he exclaimed. mustn’t be!” “What mustn’t be?” cried the broker half angrily. “Isn’t it my money. Didn’ I make it? May not a man do as he will with his own?” = “This CHAPTER III. _ THE STRANGE HAPPENINGS OF A NIGHT, Ben was so taken aback that fora min- ute he found himself quite unable to speak Keep my | HAPPY DAYS. “Tt seems hardly right for me to accept ‘what you offer without taking time _ to ‘think about it, Mr. Van -Duzer,” he said at last, the proker having remained silent after his last remark. - “Take time to think about it, then,” re- plied Mr. Van Duzer. “I don’t expect to die to-night or to-morrow. Boe about the - business, Ben?” | “Well, sir — “You cannot ae to refuse me, so far -as that is concerned.” ~ “Well, I accept that part of it. Knight never could run it.” “Never! _Not if he was both sober and honest, whereas he is neither.” “Lt am eure IT am very grateful to you, a Sire? “You need not say that nor anything else. I am not doing this for your sake, - but for my own. I am a proud man, Ben. ._I want my name to live after me. I should - like it if you would change your name to Van Duzer, but I do not insist on this.” s © 1 will think of it, sir, and consult my mother.” -“T am pleased that you don’t turn the roposition down offhand. Do it if you an. As for the rest, we will let it set or a few days. You’d be a fool to turn my proposition down, Ben.” - Secretly Ben throught so, too, but he did not want to appear too eager.’ “There will be time enough to-morrow,” he said to himself. Mr. Van Duzer now began talking about the business, and gave Ben his views as - to how it should be~ handled. — On this subject they talked until ten o’clock, when the broker announced his intention of going to bed. The Neversink was now far Sound. _ Having said good night to his employer, who now retired to his stateroom, Ben undressed and went to bed, too, as it was his custom to retire early as a rule. - But there was to be no sleep for him that night. For half an hour he lay there in his - bunk thinking of the wonderful luck which was likely to come to him in case of his -employer’s speedy death. - It was while he was thus engaged that he heard an electric bell buzz. ~ In a moment someone entered the cabin ‘and knocked on the broker’s door. The conversation which followed Ben Charley up; the - - distinctly heard. “Send Captain Wilson and Mr. Pietro to me,” he heard’ Van Duzer call. The person departed. Pietro was the Italian steward of the yacht. - In a moment the two men were heard coming into the cabin. _ Mr. Van Duzer came out of his state- room. . “Gentlemen,” he. said, execute a codicil to my will and also an- Oh a about to 2 other document, the nature of which I pre- fer not to name. I. want you to ae my signature.” eo. “Certainty, sir,” the captain’ s gruff voice : was heard to reply. - “Witha mucha pleasure, steward added. _ *T regret,” continued Van Duzer, “that ‘we have no notary public at hand, but ‘that can be attended to in the morning at ais Island.” ' “J peg your pardon, sir,” said the cap- tain, “but I happen to be a notary pub- . te 29 \ - “Indeed! That is fortunate. your notarial seal on board?” _ “1 have, sir.” “Good! Then call the mate. I forget his name. Let him sign as second witness and you take the acknowledgment. Do it at once. I am feeling decidedly worse. “There must be no delay.” “Shall I geta you some bromo-seltzer, ‘gaire?” demanded the steward. “You are avare data it helpa your stoomak—so?” “Not now. Captain, make-haste, please, - Don’t speak so loud, Pietro. I don’t wish --to awaken my guest.” But Ben was wide awake and listening - with all his ears. “He is determined to do it, and I can’t stop him,” he thought. “What if he should “die to-night and I should turn up a multi- “millionaire in the morning?” — The bare thought of the thing put his brain in a whirl. Ben continued to listen. saire,” the Have .you He even peered between the slats of the ; stateroom door. He could see nothing that way, but he Gid get a view of what was going on through the keyhole. es Thus he saw Mr. Van Duzer affix his signature to two legal documents. ~ One he announced as his will, the other he did not explain. _ Pietro, the steward, and. Mr. Hannay, the mate, signed as witnesses, and Cap- i tain. Wilson took the acknowledgment and os stamped poth documents with his seal. ‘Mr, Van Duzer now put the documents - in his pocket and ordered the steward to = open a bottle of champagne.” =~: They drank together and the yacht offi- cers having been dismissed, Mr. Van Duzer returned to his stateroom. - “What has he done?” thought Ben. “Has he really made me his heir? The thought it ges oe iy. head: 2 | Obey— gasped. 4 Exchange. | Two hours passed. To save himself Ben could not get asleep.. He tossed and turned, thinking; won- dering, his head full of all sorts of strange thoughts until at last he was startled by hearing the bell buzz again. When the cali was answered Mr. Van Duzer spoke from inside his room. “Wake up the steward. Tell him I am suffering horribly. Tell him to send me a glass of bromo-seltzer mixed in the usual way.” “All right,. sir,” was the reply, and the man hurried away. “Shall I go in to him?” Ben asked him- self. But he could not Make up his mind to do it. Mr. Van Duzer was never a man to make free with. So he waited. In a little while he heard the man re- turning. Van Duzer’s door was opened and Ben, through the keyhole, saw a tumbler hand- ed in. For half an hour there was silence. It was now after one o’clock, and Ben was just dropping off into a doze when suddenly he was brought up standing by a loud call of his own name. “Ben! Ben Leslie! Come to me, Ben!” Ben threw open the door and, clad only in his undershirt, ran across the cabin. Mr. Van Duzer’s door was Swung open. The broker, in pajamas, was sitting in a. chair: The man was in horrible agony. One glance showed it. “Ben! Dying!” he gasped. “The will! I wrote the codicil. Feel under my pillow, boy, for the papers. You are my sole heir except a small legacy to Charley Knight.” “Let me call help!” cried: Ben. “Where is the bell?” “There at your side. first. Obey!” Ben fumbled under the pillow and got the papers. ’ The broker meanwhile was twisting and turning. He seemed to be all doubled up with. pain. The steward’s boy responded. ~ Take the papers “Call the captain instantly—the steward, | too!” ordered Ben. The boy lost no time. Captain Wilson came hurrying down into the cabin a few minutes later. He found Mr. Van Duzer leaning on Ben and almost. gone. “Can we do nothing for him,” demanded Ben, who was horribly scared. “Great heavens, I’m afraid he is dying!” gasped the captain. “Why don’t that Dago come? He’s got the medicine chest.” “Too late!” gasped Van Duzer. “Cap- tain! This young man—my sole cae Oh! oh! oh!” Another spasm followed. Then the broker got hold of Ben’s hand. “Ben, be good! Do as I told you!” he The end instantly followed. By the time the steward came Ben and the captain had a dead man on their hands. It was a terrible shock to Ben. - Let us do the boy justice and state that never once during this painful scene did any thought of the wonderful luck which had come to him enter his head. He thought of it afterward, of course. This was after they had laid the dead millionaire on the bed and the captain and steward had retired. Ben, standing under drew out. the papers. The first one which he opened was the will. It was as Mr. Van Duzer had stated. There was the codicil duly executed. It cut Charley Knight off with a $5,000 legacy. Other than this Ben Leslie was named sole heir to his late employer’s wealth. the cabin lamp, CHAPTER IV. ‘BACK TO NEW YORK. Ben stood there under the cabin lamp half dazed. : From a poor clerk in a Wall street bro- ker’s office he had Suddenly leaped into fortune. 5 If the will which he held in his hand stood, then he was a multi-millionaire. | He could not feel deep sorrow for his employer’s untimely death. It was not in nature. Mr. Van Duzer had never made-the boy his friend. He had been peral enough in his way, more so than Many employers would have been. Starting in as an office poy at $2 a week, Ben now received a salary of $30. Many another would have held him at $20 or $25. But there were two papers. Ben, without stopping to read the will in detail, for he expected Captain Wilson right back, now opened the other. It was a document which spoke well for the dead broker’s business shrewdness. It was, in short, a bill of sale to Ben for the entire stock in Jacob Van Duzer, ee and for his Seay on the Stock aS | the ee Thus, even withcut the will, Ben was now master OL a, prosperous brokerage business. More than this, the bill of sale included certain bonds which Ben knew were worth at least half a million, and also the yacht. Thus, without the will, he not only had the business, but capital enough to run it. Ben knew all about the bonds, and he knew that they. were duly endorsed and could be sold at once. Clearly Mr. Van Duzer’s intention was to secure to the boy not only the business, but_to provide him with funds to carry on a contest of the will, in case one should be started. Surely such luck never came to a Wall street lad as came Ben Leslie’s way on that memorable night. Ben put the will in the inside pocket of his coat, going into the stateroom for that purpose, but the bill of sale he put in the inside pocket of his vest and pinned it in, It was an old trick of his never to carry all his money in one pocket. He acted upon that custom now, and as will presently be seen, was saved a vast deal of trouble thereby, Ben now hurried on his clothes. Before he had finished dressing Captain -Wilson returned. d He looked grave and disturbed, and as - entered he locked the cabin door behind - im. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, “but I didn’t get your name. We have got to face this business, and I think we had better get acquainted right now.” “That’s so,” replied Ben, name. ~ “It is unnecessary for me to say that we have lost an almighty good man,” con- tinued the captain. “It’s a hard blow to me,’ for I have a big family to support. I suppose my job is done for.” “Not necessarily,” replied Ben. “I shall want time to turn myself, but as it seems 40 me now, I shail keep this yacht in com- mission—for the present, at least.” “You come into everything, sir? right?” “T have merely glanced over the will. I can’t say what legacies it contains. There are one or two, at all events. Aside from that, all comes to me.” “You'll be some relation of the boss, I suppose?” “IT am his business partner,” replied Ben, stiffly, for he felt that Captain Wilson was pushing his questions a little too far. “Oh, indeed!” was the reply. “I wasn’t aware he had a partner. However, it’s none of my business. I don’t suppose I’m down in the will?” “T ean’t say. As soon as T have time to giving his Is that look it over I’ll let you know.” + “Oh, all right. I’m not expecting any- thing. Do you know what was the matter with the boss?” “No, I don’t. some time.” “He has been ailing for at least a month. to my certain knowledge, I don’t want to make too free with you, sir, and-I don’t want to cast no suspicions on nobody, but 4 there is something which I feel as if I ought to: say, and I am going to say it right now.” Ben stared at the captain. . ae coming now?” he asked him- self “Do you want me to speak out?” de- manded the captain. , “Surely! Why not?” “Well, then; Mr. Leslie, once I worked for a Boston gentleman. whose wife poison- ed him with arsenic, for which she was hung in the end. Well, sir, his symptoms were precisely like those of Mr. Van Duzer. That’s all I’ve got to say.” “Bless my soul, you don’t mean to say you think Mr. Van Duzer was poisoned?” gasped. Ben. “Well, sir, I don’t want to cast no sus- picions on nobody, but that’s what I do think.” “But who can have done such a thing?” “Don’t ask me. I don’t know nothing about the boss’s private life. I gave him a hint two weeks ago, but he cut me off so sharp that I didn’t like to say any more about it. I wish I had now.” “What ought we to do?” “T think we had better turn about and go back to New York.” “Captain, I believe you are right. There is no use in going on to Shelter Island now.” “Not a bit. New York for mine if I had anything to say about it. Of-course’ it is up to you to act.” “Then [I authorize you to turn back. Tell me, do you suspect any particular person?” “Honest I don’t. I’d very soon tell you. The matter ought to be put into the hands of the police. Well, I’ll leave you now, sir. Don’t you think you had better try and get a little sleep?” “It is impossible,” réplied Ben. remain here and watch.” The captain departed. In a few minutes Ben became aware that the yacht was changing her course. Shortly afterward the ee entered He has been ailing for ey shall »vera good man. bat His eyes were red, and he looked like a man who had been weeping. “Ah, saire, Mr, Leslie, we hafa lost one Oh, yes!” he exclaimed. “Yes,” replied Ben. “Mr. Van Duzer was kind to all.” “He was vera kind to me, saire. vera kind. Ah, I feel so bad. Vera, I tinka you ‘feel bad, too, Perhaps you lika I get break- fast early. You feela better so you eat something—yes?” Ben itooked at his etn and saw that it was after three o’clock. “Tf you could serve breakfast at five I should like it,” he said. “It shall be done, saire,” steward. “I coulda not sleep. de breakfast myself, saire. fina cook. You shall see.’ “T don’t like that man,” thought Ben, after the steward had departed. “If I am to run this yacht he and I will have to part company. That is one thing sure.” replied the I villa cook IT am mucha -~.He could scarcely have explained why he felt so, but there was something in the steward’s manner which was repulsive to him. But then Ben was a person of strong prejudices, and he knew it himself. He now took out the will and read it through. There were no legacies except the one to Charley Knight. In the body of the will the entire estate was devised to Knight, but the codicil cut him off with $5,000, as has been Xn plained. Evidently it had been an afterthought. of the broker to leave him this much. “And I am glad he did,” thought Ben. . “If Charley. will only brace up, I think © I shall make it more. I should never feel right if IE didn’t; but we shall see.” At five o’clock an excellent breakfast was served. The steward insisted upon waiting at table. Ben ate but little, and after breakfast, feeling drowsy, he retired to his stateroom and lay down without undressing. He was asleep in a moment. ; When he awoke it was broad daylight, and the yacht was at rest. Ben sprang up and looked out of the window. “Why, we are in New vor’ claimed. “For heaven’s sake, have I been asleep?” He looked at his watch. To his utter surprise he found that it Was noon. e Putting on his coat and shoes, he hur- ried on deck. Captain Wilson was pacing the deck, but — there was no one else to be seen. “Well, well; so you have waked up at last!” he exclaimed. “I thought you were never going to. I tried three times to call you, but I couldn’t seem to manage a arouse you, sir.” “T.can’t think what made me sleep so,” replied Ben. “Did you come into the state- room?” “Well, he ex- © how long sir, I did not take that liberty. ' When I found you were so sound asleep I coneluded to let you alone. been in for over.an hour. thing was done.” “It is indeed,” replied Ben. “I’ll go ashore at once. Where is everybody?” “The steward and the engineer went ashore, and I am expecting the boat. back every minute,” replied the captain. “Will you see to the undertaker, sir? May I- ask what are your plans?” Truth told, Ben had no plans, A strange, dazed feeling was upon him. The events of the night seemed to have drifted away into the far-distant past® “Can it really be?” he asked himself. “Is Mr. Van Duzer actually dead? Am I really a multi-millionaire?” We have It is time some- CHAPTER V. BEN FINDS HIMSELF UP AGAIST THE BOND KING. The events of the next twenty-four hours must be hurried over in order to give space to more interesting happenings. Ben went ashore and notified the police -| of Mr. Van Duzer’s death, for the more he thought of the matter the more he became convinced that Captain Wilson was right, and that this was the only proper course to pursue. The result was startling, Mr. Van Duzer’s remains were taken to a noted undertaker’s establishment, and by the direction of the coroner an autopsy — was made. This settled the question. The verdict of the coroner’s jury was death by arsenical poisoning. Ben had a murder case on his hands! — Meanwhile our hero had made a most unpleasant discovery. . > Finishing ~his business with the police, Ben went to the office. He had been thinking matters over, and had come to the conclusion that the best ‘ thing he could do was to place his affairs in the hands of one Cromwell, who for many years had been Mr. You Duzer’ s law- yer. : ee was no one in 1 the office bec he been informed, a grave-looking gentleman. oe spoken of you, ‘Be seated. “HAPPY DAYS. reached it, for a note the elevator man for forming her that her be required that day. Ben opened the windows and examined the mail to see if there was anything re- quiring immediate attention. This done, he took the will from his coat pocket, as he supposed, and started to look it over again. F Then followed a startling discovery. -. On the outside the paper was endorsed: “Will of Jacob Van Duzer,” but when Ben opened it there was oe but a blank form. Ben almost collapsed. “T have been rubbed!” he gasped. He clapped his hand to his vest pocket. The other paper was there, pinned in as he had left it. Unnecessary to say, this was opened in a hurry. : Julie Cardozo, in- services would not To Ben’s unspeakabe relief it was the Si pill of gale, all right. How had it happened? "This ‘was the puzzle. Ben had been to the barber’s before eoming to the office and there he had hung up his coat while being shaved. This complicated matters. if it-had been otherwise, he would have been certain that the robbery had been -eommitted on board the yacht. Ben sursied to the office of Mr, Crom- well. « But it was Saturday, an off-day in New York in the summer months, and the law- yer was out of town. -Ben now went to his home in Brooklyn. and informed his mother of the wonderful luck which had come his way. We shall not dwell upon the interview, ‘mor upon the events of the next day. Sunday’s papers came out with an ac- ‘count of the murder of Jacob Van Duzer. By Monday Ben found himself with his hands full between the police and the re- porters. At one time he almost feared that he was going to be arrested for the murder him- self, so fierce was the questioning to which he was subjected. Captain Wilson helped him out in this, however, by his persistent statement that his suspicions had been aroused weeks be- fore. The finger of suspicion now began to point toward Guiseppi Pietro, the steward. The police detectives tried to find the man, but failed. : Nobody knew his addéess. Search for the bromo-seltzer ince was made in Mr. Van Duzer’s stateroom, but it had been removed. It looked as if: the steward must have done this. "The yacht’s medicine chest, which Cap- tain Wilson, declared the steward had in his charge, was also missing. By Monday the newspapers were charg- - ing the steward with the crime, and search was made for him high and low, but with- out success. Needless to say, Ben shared the general suspicion, and now believed that the steward had stolen the will while he slept. In this suspicion Captain Wilson fully concurred when he heard what had hap- - pened. - He stated that he had always disliked the Italian, and that he had warned Mr. Van Duzer against him. _ By Monday night all New York was ready to believe that Jacob Van Duzer had been poisoned by the steward of his yacht. Meanwhile nothing had -been- heard or } seen of Charley Knight. 1 young drunkard had not been seen -at his boarding place for a week and no- body knew where to look for him. - During Monday Ben visited the bachelor apartment house on Upper Broadway where Mr. Van Duzer resided and gave orders that no one be admitted to the rooms -without his authority, announcing himself as Mr. Van Duzer’s partner. But whether he actually could make good his claims without the will he had no idea, for Mr. Cromwell, the lawyer, had not yet returned. He reached his office on Tuesday morn- ing, however. Ben did not have to hunt him up. The lawyer called him over the telephone first _ thing. “JT wish, Mr. Leslie, you would come to my Office as soon as possible, *he said. “If it is not convenient, I will call on you dur- ing the Morning, but I should pDrefer you came here.” ' Needless to say, Ben went, leaving the Office in Julie’s charge. Julie was overwhelmed at the turn af- fairs had taken, but as yet Ben had said nothing to her about his own situation. _ .He had managed to keep the will busi- ness. quiet, for, although the. police had they had advised him not - to mention it, and for a wonder they had not allowed it to leak out themselves. Arrived at Mr. Cromwell’s office, Ben was at once admitted to’ the presence of He had never seen the lawyer before. _ “So you are Ben Leslie,” said Mr. Crom- well. “Mr, Van Duzer has frequently 2 I want to es ae Hen we: a Ait ose ae had been left With ‘he then remarked. The lawyer’s first etic were about Mr. Van Duzer’s death. Ben answered ‘each one as put. He resolved to let Mr. Cromwell get at the case in his own way. “And now, Mr. Leslie,” said the lawyer, crossing his. legs and leaning back in his chair, “can you tell me what became of Mr. Van Duzer’s will under which I am named executor?” “Tt is lost, sir,” replied Ben. “Lost! What do you mean?” “Tt was stolen from me.” ._ “Stolen! Explain, boy! Ben told the whole story. Not a word did the lawyer utter while he continued speaking. “And so he did it,” he then remarked. “Did “what, sir? “Added that codicil.” | “He certainly did. It is all just as I tell you.” “Tet me see that bill of sale.” Ben produced it. Mr. Cromwell read it over in silence. “You are a very fortunate young man,” “But for this, and it is just like Van Duzer to have made this paper, you would now have to face worse trouble than I expect will come to you.” “T can’t account for the loss of the will, sir. me “Stop! It was not careless. If you had not put the will in your pocket, where would you have put it? You were drugged, of course, that is what made you sleep so. While you slept you were robbed by this rascally steward or someone else.” oe “Then you believe my story of the will, sir. Captain Wilson can vouch for what Mr. Van Duzer said in his dying moments.” “T need no voucher from Captain Wilson. Explain! ” Mr. Van Duzer told me a week ago that | he intended to alter his will in your favor. As far back.as six months ago he had the matter in mind. [I shall certainly stand by you, Mr. Leslie, but it is very doubtful if you can succeed in recovering anything under the will, which I am convinced by this time has been destroyed by the rascal who is at the bottom of this black busi- -ness.” “Who de you mean, sir?” “J mean Mr. Van Duzer’s brother.” “He told me that he had a brother to whom he had not spoken in years.” > “Quite so. Did he mention that he bore another name?” ~- “Yes, sir.” “Did he mention the name?” “No, sir,” “Then it is time that you knew it. Van Duzer’s brother is Thomas low.” “What! The Bond King!” cried Ben. Lawyer Cromwell had mentioned the name of one of the richest men on Wall street, and one who was commonly be- lieved to be about as big a rascal as could be found in all New York. Mr. CHAPTER VI. BEN ENGAGES A LAWYER AND A DETECTIVE. “And so I am up against that man, am 1?” exclaimed Ben. “That is the man,” said* Mr, Cromwell. “Have you ever met him?” “Never! ” “And you had no idea that he was Mr. Van Duzer’s brother?” “No, indeed.” e “Mew are aware of. it.” “What made him change his name?” “T believe he was adopted by a rich uncle when a young man; but we have no concern with that. It is enough for us to know that we have got to fight him, for we certainly have.” “You believe, . then—— “T am firmly convinced that he is at the pottom of this whole business.” “But, Mr. Cromwell, would a man of his standing 2 “Murder his brother? Yes; Thomas Goodfellow would do anything for money. It isn’t the first time that he has been suspected of dealing with hired assassins.” “But they say he is worth ten millions!” “They say! What does that amount to? Who knows? The fellow is a wretched miser. He lives like a dog, and no man knows anything about his business. He holds no real estate; he deals solely in bonds. At one time he owned more rail- road bonds than any twenty men in this town. Does he own them yet? You don’t know; I don’t know; nobody knows but himself. In spite of the reputation he bears, the man may not be worth ten cents.” “And what would you advise me to do?” “First of all, let me record that bill of sale. You can trust au with it, young man?” “Certainly, gir. ae Mr. “Van Duzer could trust you, I guess I can.” “You. don’t have to. If you prefer some 2 other lawyer——” If you will take my case “But I don’t. “Consider it taken. my advice?” “Most assuredly.”. nas get oe at once. and oy to head Of course it was very careless of is one of the heirs at law, of course. Goodfel- Now will you pee | Ben—Mr, Leslie, I mean. beni man off, ‘First of all you need a de- tective.” “The police have two working on the case now.” “You want one on your own account. I can recommend a man. He is young— not so very much older than yourself. He has not had so very much experience, but he is wonderfully shrewd, and in a case which I gave him he acquitted himself in the most creditable manner. Are you will- ing to employ him?” “Certainly.” “His name is Fish. Fred Fish. He has an office down at the lower end of Broad- way. Here is his card. You had better look him up at once. Now for the next.” “Well, sir?” “Where are these bonds mentioned in the bill of sale?” “In the safe deposit vaults.” “So? Then you may find yourself at some trouble- to get them. T]l attend to that. I hold an order from Van Duzer to open his safe deposit box which I think the company will honor when I explain the circumstances. What do you propose to do with the bonds?” “T thought that part of them had better be sold so as to enable me to start a bank account.” “Correct. Keep the rest for emergencies. That is all, I think, for the present.” “Then I will go and leok up this man Fish.” j “Do so. (Now don’t raise your hopes too high about the estate. I regard it as ex- tremely doubtful if you are ever able to touch a penny of it. You alone saw the codicil to that will, and your testimony goes for nothing.” “Has Charley Knight any chance?” “Not unless the will can be found. He He will have to come in for his share if the will is never discovered. But where is he? He has vanished. Can’t you see Thomas Goodfellow’s hand again?” Ben left the lawyer’s office with his mind filled with vague fears. Goodfellow, the Bond King, had the repu- tation of having ruined more Wall street men than any big: operator on the Street. He was not a member of either Hx- change, but one of those mysterious in- dividuals who operate in the dark. Ben dreaded the encounter with this man, which he felt surely must come. Away down Broadway there stood in those days an old building of many stairs | and dark corridors. High up and far back in this old roost, which has long since given way to a ’steen- story skyscraper, Ben found Detective Fred Fish smoking a pipe in a dark little office which contained no other furniture than a desk and two chairs. The detective was a trim young fellow with keen gray eyes and brown hair. Ben took to him as soon as he opened the door. “From Mr. Cromwell, “Well, I’m glad to see you. I'll be frank with you and mention that I have just started in on this business. I never had but one customer, and he was Cromwell. I got him by accident, and now he has sent you. Let’s hear about your case.” “Perhaps you have seen it mentioned in the paper,” replied Ben, dropping into the spare chair. “It is about Mr. Van Duzer, who died on the yacht Neversink.” “Hello! I read all about that.” “Well, that’s the business.” “And who are you?” “T was Mr. Van Duzer’s clerk. now succeeded to his business. tell you all about the case?” “TI wish you would.” Ben accordingly -went over the again. He was beginning to get tired of telling I have Shall I story it. Fred Fish listened attentively and made a few notes. “What do you think of it?” asked Ben. Fred Fish twisted his red mustache. “T don’t think there is one chance in a million of the will being recovered, if that is what you want.” . “I’m afraid there isn’t.” “Still, there is the one chance. ing to go in on that.” “T wish you would. money?” rs “No. Fortunately for me I have a small income which enables me to live while I am trying to build up a business. No; you can settle when I am through with the case. By the ae have you got that blank with you?” “Ves, oF \ “Let me have it, please.” Ben -handed it over. “Where is this yacht now?” was next asked. “She is still lying off the Battery.” “Will you go out to her with me now?” “T’ll go in about an hour. I have a few Tm will- Do you want any ‘matters to attend to at the office first.” “Ail right. In an hour I will meet you at the Battery boat landing.” Ben left Fred Fish with this understand- ing, and returned to the office. __ “Has anybody been in?” he. asked, of Julie Cardozo, as he started to open. the safe. * “There was an old gentleman in here, to himself. eh?” cried Fish.’ ‘ally Van Duzer. I s’pose I must- | n't call you Ben any longer now you ar the boss.” “Perhaps it would. be just as well not to, ve replied Ben. : He did not altogether like Julie for sev- eral reasons, and for that one reason and pleasant with her, but the time had come for him to stand a little on his dig nity now. “Vl try to remember, ” ” said Julie, toss-_ ing her head. “It comes so natural : though, to say~ Ben that you must excuse me if once in a while I make a break.” “Did the gentleman leave his name?” de-. manded Ben. - . “No, he didn’t.” . Ben said no more. Taking out the bank-book he looked up the balance. It was $16,000 and over, : “TI don’t suppose I can touch a cent of this,” he was just saying when the offic door opened, and in stepped a man of. most peculiar appearance. He was tall, and almost as thin as a dim museum living skeleton. His cheeks were hollow, and his eyes” deeply sunken, : He looked for all the world like a walk. ing corpse. “Is Mr. Leslie in?” he asked, in a rasping voice. “My name is Leslie, ” replied Bon: 5 “And mine is Goodfellow, ” said the visi: or. Ben started. Now to a certainty he was up against th Bond King. CHAPTER VIL TROUBLE AHEAD. “Will you step into the private ‘office, Mr. Goodfellow?” asked Ben. The Bond King followed him in a Oe a word, Ben, having closed the door and invitee his visitor to be seated, took his own place at Mr. Van Duzer’s desk. For a moment he waited, expecting hi visitor to speak. But the Bond King seemed determined t look the boy over first, and he put on pair of eye-glasses to assist him in the at-_ tempt. a Ben could not help shuddering. There was something dréadful in those. eyes! He could not turn his head away, and as he looked at Mr. Goodfellow he could think of no other words to express the man’s appearance than “walking corpse.” “Yes, that is what he is,” Ben repeated “He’s a walking corpse. ” But he pulled ese together and broke the silence. “Did you wish to see me, sir?” he aukeas “I “did,” replied the Bond King, in Gia same slow, sepulchral voice in which h had previously spoken. “Well?” “T wanted to ask you particulars as t my brother’s death,” “Your brother?” Ben was not coming off his perch too eas ily. His feeling of revulsion to this mai was becoming intense. “Yes; my brother. Perhaps you did no know that ‘Mr. Van Duzer was my Bee er. “Oh! I thought your name— “My name is Goodfellow. It was : onere It was changed for rea sons of my own.” res “Well, sir, Mr. Van Duzer died on board his yacht,” said Ben. — “You were presem at the time, I am told.” Soe was. 9 “Will you give me the full details of his death. I see the papers are making a lot — out of it. I.want to know the truth.” . Ben told what had occurred on the yacht. Mr. Goodfellow sat with his hands rest- ing on his right knee, and the tips of his fingers pressed together. 2 And now Ben made another. ‘discovery. about the man, The glittering white teeth were false. As the Bond King kept his mouth partly open his teeth were very much in evidence, Suddenty those On the upper jaw vanish- ed! - A gurgling cluck followed. Ben saw the teeth reappear... They came up into place again, and were fastened there—however he did it. | 2 To Ben it was horribly disgusting. «= He felt like rapping the man over the head. But he controlled himself in all ‘these feelings, and told his story throu to’ the while he continued to speak. Then the questioning began. | Ben expected this. . He had not mentioned the matter of th will; somehow he felt impressed not to do so. And now he was. to ee that Mr. head fellow knew all about it, and did — nee to be told. SS that. is the way my brother caieas Of the safe. HAPPY DAYS. _gaid the Bond King slowly. that he left a will?” “Yes, sir.” : “T am told that the will was signed on -- the yacht just before his death,” = Yes, sir.” “Tt am told that with the exception of a _ few small legacies it names you sole heir.” *Ves, sir.’ “Em! Singular that my brother should cut off his near relatives for the benefit of a stranger. Will you let me see that will, young man?” J cannot do that, sir,” replied Ben, who was growing more and more nervous every minute. “The will has disappeared.” “How! Disappeared?” Yes, Sir,” ; “Explain, please.” “It was stolen from me,” replied Ben, and he told how the robbery had occurred. —- “H’m! Strange!” said Mr. Goodfellow. : Down dropped the false teeth again. - The’ Bond King gobbled them up into -. place and repeated: “Strange! Very strange!” - “Tam not able to account for it myself,” said Ben. “You suspect this—this Italian steward of stealing the will?” ae Lt certainly looks suspicious. The man “lost no time in, taking himself off. The police have ‘not been able to find him - ginee.” .“H’m! Well, of course you understand— “what's your name again?” “My name is Ben Leslie.” “Just so. Of course you understand, “Leslie, that in case this will don’t turn up -_I am one of my brother’s jegal heirs?” __ “TI suppose you are, sir.’ - “T don’t suppose anything about it. I know [ am. You don’t know me, but my - claim holds good. Pending the search for - the will, I propose to take possession here.” 6 Sir! % “You heard me. I propose to take pos- session here. You will give me my broth- er’s keys; you will tell me the combination For the present you may re- - Inain here at the salary you are now receiv- ing. Later there will be a new deal.” Ben caught his breath. He knew that he was white with excite- - ment; but he controlled himself, and his _-yoice was steady when he replied: . “Mr. Goodfellow, i shall do nothing of ‘the sort.” “Oh, very well,” said the Bond King. Suit ‘yourself. I can get along very well without you, I daresay.” “You don’t understand me. I shall not give up this business to you now or at any other time!” _. “What do you mean?” demanded the Bond King, without betraying the least trace of excitement. » “Just what I say!” cried Ben, springing ‘to his feet, “This business belongs to me.” “Under my brother’s will. But where is the will?” “Tt belongs to me without the will, sir!” “How! What do you mean?” - “IT mean that Mr, Van Duzer executed a pill of sale before his death, conveying the business to me. It is mine, ahd I propose - to keep it. I shall certainly stand on my : Seis a _ If the Bond King was surprised he show- ed it only by letting his false teeth fall again. “Let me see that bill of sale,” he said, gobbling them up. “1 refer you to my lawyer,” replied Ben, Your lawyer! Ah! We have lawyers, - eh?. Who may this lawyer be?” “He is Mr, Chas. Cromwell, of No. a ‘Broadway. y = Hm! My prother’s attorney, I be- : lieve. . ee Yes.” “And he has this bill of sale?” — fYes,” : “7 ghall ignore it. In spite of this al- _ leged transfer I shall proceed to take pos- - -gession here.” . “If you do, I shall proceed to throw you i out. 9 “Fm! You threaten me?” “Tf you chose to call it a threat—yes.” “Ig anything else besides the business transferred to you by this wonderful bill of sale?” “Yes, there is.” 3 “What?” “JT refer you to my lawyer!” The Bond King was silent for a few min- “utes. He gat with his finger tips pressed to- gether and twice he let the teeth fall. . “Young man,” he said at length, “I think it is my duty to warn you that I am a man not to be trifled with. My brother appears to have been murdered. I believe he was - murdered. Practically you were alone on the yacht with him at the time his death. occurred. You follow me, I hope?” Ben did not answer. \ He knew what was coming. He was too much excited to trust himself to speak. “Stand out against me and you will re- gret it,” continued the Bond King, slowly -yising. “You may even be arrested for this - murder yourself, and—well, witness may turn up unexpectedly to help my case and _ damage yours. I shall now leave you, but you will hear from me again. a ness rightfully peteee ae me. “T am told ae -do not believe he ever made a will, ‘This busi- So. does a share of my brother’s property. I shall take steps to have my rights ee I do believe that his signature to this bill of sale is forged, and that you are the forger. I anticipate little difficulty in proving these claims. He rose. Never for an instant did he re- move his eyes from Ben. “Vou do not speak because you know that I am telling the truth,” he continued. “You have now had your warning. Iam a bad man to come up against. Good-day.” Ben made no answer, and the Bond King, opening the door, walked out. Ben followed him through to the outer door. Here Mr. Goodfellow turned, and, shak- ing his lean forefinger at Ben, said in the same slow, deliberate fashion: “T am going, Mr. Leslie, but, mark my words, I shall come again. If you decide to comply with my very reasonable requests you will be liberally dealt with; if you re- fuse I will railroad you to the electric chair! * He opened the door, and walked out, closing the door with a slam. CHAPTER VIIE. FRED FISH SPRINGS ANOTHER MYSTERY ON BEN, “My! What a horrid man!” cried Julie, as Ben turned away. “Who is he? What on earth did he mean by talking to you like that, Ben—Mr. Leslie, I mean.’ “He is Mr. Van Duzer’ s brother,” replied Ben, coldly. “As to his business, it con- cerns me, and not you.’ “Oh, indeed!” cried Julie, tossing her head. “I’m sure I don’t want to butt in.’ “Don’t, then.” Julie subsided. Ben went behind the desk and began looking over letters. — It was almost time to “ew his appoint- ment with Fred Fish, but he was so excited that he wanted to calm himself first. - “The old rascal! he asked himself. er! It is impossible, and yet—— A strange fear Becries suddenly to Seize hint. Ben knew that there was nothing which money could not do in New York. The door opened at this instant, and in walked Fred Fish, smoking a long cigar. “You—you came here!” cried Ben, “Sure! Here I am,” replied the detec- tive. “Happened to have business on Wall street, so I thought I might as well. Are you ready to go aboard the yacht? 2 “Yes ll go now,” said Ben. Miss Cardozo, if anyone comes in you can say that I will be back in about an hour. You can tell them that we are not doing pusi- ness here to-day. e The door opened, and.a young man came bustling in. ot et the ‘New York Planet!” he said. “I want to see Mr. Leslie.’ “T am Mr, Leslie,” replied Ben. “TI want you to give me full particulars of Mr, Van Duzer’s death. ne Fred Fish gave Ben a warning look. Until now Ben had been able to dodge the reporters, Somehow he had managed to slip hbe- tween them, “J have nothing to say that has not al- ready been said to the police,” he replied, “Oh, but you must give me an inter- view,” persisted the young man. “I’d like your photograph, too. : “Well, you won’t get it. to say,” replied Ben. Still the reporter persisted. “Come,” said the detective, walked out after him. The reporter followed them, and it was not without considerable difficulty that Ben got rid of him on the street. “You want to be careful how you talk to those fellows,” said Fred Fish as they walk- ed in the direction of the Battery. “Have you had many of them after you?” “He’s the first one. I don’t know why they didn’t come to my house, and you see this is the first I have been in the office for any length of time since Mr. Van Duzer’s death occurred.” “You had better draw up a typewritten statement, have several copies made of it, and give one to each reporter who calls. By the way, you had a visitor just now?” “I did. But how did you know it?” _ “It is my business to know things, and when I take up.a case [ make it a point to know all I can about it. Anat's a bad man, Ben.” “The Bond King.” “Yes.” “T should say he was.” “You have had trouble with him. it in your face.” “He accused me of murdering Mr. Van Duzer. Did you ever hear anything so out- rageous?” Fred Fish shrugged his shoulders. “T am not one bit surprised,” he said, “I thought it would come to that.” “I’d like to make him sweat for it!” “You can’t. He carries too many guns “Prove me the murder- ” 5 aan 5 fetal sas IT have nothing and Ben IT read for you. Did you tell him about the bill eo Sale? “Yes.” Ce ee What can he mean?” “What did he gay?” a I forged his brother’s signature.” 6c oO do?” “Referred him to Mr. Cromwell.” “Quite correct. Now, don’t worry. Prob- ably there are few worse men in New York than Thomas Goodfellow, but I did not think he was a fool.” “What do you mean?” “He has shown his hand. There he was weak; but he has given mea clew, just the same.” “How?” a “That’s my secret, I never Boe away my clews.” “T beg your pardon.” “Don’t. You didn’t know. But now r let $ forget the Bond King. Just run over the details of Mr, Van Duzer’s death again, will you? I want to get them firmly fixed in my mind.” Ben did so, and they were still. talking about the case when they reached the Bat- tery, where they hired a boat and were pulled out to the Neversink, which still lay at anchor off Liberty Island. Captain Wilson was not aboard, and they found the yacht in charge of Mr. Hannay, the mate. Ben introduced aS detective, and. they went down into the cabin. Fred Fish threw aside his oak. “Now for business!” he exclaimed. “Don’t speak a word to me except to an- Swer my questions, for it distracts my thoughts. We will begin with the state- room in which this man died.” Surely Fred Fish was -a born sleuth. Ben never saw such work. Every inch of that stateroom and its fur- nishings was gone over. The detective worked like a dog follow- ing a scent. Next it was Ben’s stateroom, then it was Captain Wilson’s, at the other end of the yacht. Here the search was particularly thor- ough, Fish had opened the door with a skele- ton key, as Captain Wilson had left his: room locked. He jocked the door on the inside when they got in, and Captain Wilson’s effects got a most beautiful overhauling. Hven his little desk was opened, and his private letters examined. Ben noticed that Fish pocketed a few of the letters, but he did not say a word. “Now, then!” cried the detective, “we are through here. Where did that ftalian sleep ?”’ “Don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Ben. | “We shall have to ask the mate.” The steward’s room proved to be below in the forward part of the yacht. Here oie Fish began sleuthing again, so-to speak. - To Ben’s surprise, the detective was much less particular here. He went over everything, to be sure, but Pietro’s belongings did not get the over- hauling that Captain Wilson’ 8 did, by any means. Through at last, Fred Fish lit a fresh cigar, and they went on deck. Mr, Hannay kept at a respectful distance. time, “Now, I’m through,” said the detective. “Shall we go ashore, Ben?” “Anything you say.” “Might as well. You have business to at- tend to, and so have I now, thanks to you. By the way, Mr. Hannay, have you had many reporters here since this affair took place?” “Swarms of ’em, sir,” replied the mate. “Who took charge of them, you or Cap- tain Wilson?” “Tie captain, sir. This is the first time he has been ashore since Saturday.” “I suppose they didn’t find the glass Mr. Van Duzer drank the bromo-Seltzer out of?” > “No, sir; they did not, and in my way of thinking no one will ever find it.” “What do you think became of it?” “T think it went overboard, me.” “Hal £0.” Fred Fish was growing familiar. But Ben did not care, He had taken a thorough lik- ing to the young detective. He felt that Fred was a man to tie to— one to make a friend. Very likely. Well, Ben, we will walked along the Battery the detective turned suddenly to Ben and said: “By the way, how is that flirtation be- tween you and the Italian girl coming on?” Ben colored up to the roots of his hair. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “Ta! ta!” cried Fred Fish, “Don’t be of- fended now, and don’t try to deny it.” “T don’t know what you mean.” “Don’t you dare to say it to me, unless you want me to throw up your case. 2 “Well?” “Admit it!” “T never spoke to her “Byes speak ime such cases. followed her in the street?” EVEL “Admit it! Bo 4 An Msgr 11f6,27 You have This spells a fight. What did you if you ask ; | here. We have got to leok sharp after that “T admit it, then. But what has this got ta do with our case?” “Don’t know, [’m sure. want to find out. her?” “Never! ” “Well, then listen to what I tell. you. You will get a letter from her to- ere and her name is Bianca.” “You know more than I know, then. Ne “Listen! She will ask you to meet her to-night, and you had better do it. Some- thing may come out of it, but you want to look sharp and see that you are,led into no trap—see?” “T. can’t imagine what you mean!” cried Ben, whose good opinion:of Fred Fish had experienced a sudden alteration, for he en- tirely resented this interference with his private affairs. “No, I don’t suppose you can,” laushed the detective. “But how do you know——” : “Stop! Didn’t [ tell you it is my busi- ness to know things?” “IT wish you would explain.” : “Can’t. Haven’t got time. Here we are — at my office, and [ am going upstairs to puzzle my brains over your case. So-long.” Thus saying, Fred Fish popped into the doorway of the old office building, leaving Ben to ponder over this latest mystery. “Why, I never told a living soul about the girl,” he said to himself as he walked Wall street way. That is what I Did you ever speak to CHAPTER IX, THH MYSTERIOUS LETTER. The flirtation alluded to by Fred Fish was just a mere flirtation, and nothing else. Ben was fond of fishing, and frequently of an afternoon and not infrequently on summer evenings he had been in the habit— of going down to the timber basin on Go- wanus Bay and fishing off the logs. This ealled for a ride on the Court street ear through South Brooklyn, and it was on ~ these cars that Ben had encountered the girl in question. Their eyes had met on more than one occasion, but it had only been a matter of exchanging glances. Ben had never made the slightest at- tempt to carry it any further. He considered the girl strikingly beauti- ful. He was satisfied that she was an italian. and although she had always appeared well dressed, he had no idea what her station in life might be. Ben was rather a bashful fellow when. it came to women. Tf it had been otherwise he might have perceived that he had made a distinct im- pression on the girl, and tried-to have fol- Jowed up the matter. That Fred Fish should know of the affair was to him a more profound puzzle than the mystery surrounding Mr. Van Duzer’s death, for, as has already been said, he had never opened his mouth about it to a living soul. He returned to the office now, to find Julie very stiff and ceremonious. “There were two other reporters in here : | to see you, Mr. Leslie,” she said. The mate was a quiet Scotchman and a | . - person to mind his Own business every j{ plied Ben “Yes, and what did you tell them?” re- “I told them I didn’t know when you would be in,” “Right. -Anything else?” “Mr. Cromwell was asking for you over the telephone. He wants you to call him up. 9 Ben: “went into the telephone closet, and soon had the lawyer on the wire. “Mr. Goodfellow has been here, Ben,” Said Cromwell. “He demanded to see that bill of sale, and I showed it to him. He pronounces the signature a forgery.” “He came to see me, and said the same thing, without even having seen the bill of sale,” replied Ben, betraying no excitement in this answer. “He also accused me of murdering his brother. He demanded that f turn the business and everything else over to him, and told me if I did not he would railroad me to the electric chair.” “He made muck the same sort of talk man, Ben. Did you see Fish?” a Yes, He has taken the case.” “Did you tell him of Mr. Goodfellow’s threats?” “Yes.” “Good. See me to-morrow. Meanwhile | let me assure you that I have absolute con- They were rowed ashore, and as they : fidence in you. Ag for the signature, I can’ vouch for its genuineness. I have seen Mr. Van Duzer sign his name too many times not to know his signature when [ see it. Good-by.” : Coming out of the telephone closet, Ben went to his desk. Upon it lay a letter addressed to him in a woman’s handwriting. Could this be the letter Fred Fish - had predicted he would receive? Ben’s heart gave a strange throb as he opened the envelope. Sure enough, it was nothing else! The letter ran thus: “Brooklyn, July — —, os “Mr, ‘Leslie: Do you know who is writ- ‘ing to you? I don’t believe you can guess, ge sae HAPPY DAYS. so I am going to tell you at once.. Iam the black-eyed Italian girl who you like to look at on the Court street car when you go fishing. Ill tell you another thing. That black-eyed girl likes to look at-you. .“But this is no love letter. You stand in the greatest danger, and I would avert it if -[ean,. You have lost a paper of great value to you. I think I can show you a way to get it back. “Will you meet me on the bridge which _ erosses the Gowanus canal at nine o’clock this evening? I know you will wonder at _ the time and place, but I am being closely _ watched, and must do the best I can. “Do not throw this aside. Not only does your future interest, but perhaps your life, et ‘upon heeding the words of “Bianca,” She Faas the band!” thought Ben. “Is Fish a wizard, or what?” He thrust the letter into his pocket, re- solved to keep the appointment. The day passed without further events ‘worth noting. ‘Ben drew up his statement, and the re- porters turning up again got it. But when the evening papers came out Ben was amazed at the garbled form in which it appeared. One of the yellows had a audacity to -come out with a flaming heading: “POUND AT. LAST!” under which it asserted that search had peen made everywhere for Ben, and that now for the first time he had shown him- self in his usual haunts since the death of Mr. Van Duzer. The article was sarcastic, and contained | insinuations which made Ben’s blood boil. “This is the Bond King’s work,” he said to himself. “He is laying pipe. Next thing ~ it will be an open accusation of murder. It is terrible! I only hope my mother don’t get a sight of this.” Ben now went home. In time for his appointment, he left the house, and, taking a Court street car, rode to the Hamilton avenue bridge. Here he alighted, and crossed the bridge on foot, but without seeing anything of the irl, . It was a desperately bad neighborhood at night. On both sides of the bridge are brick- yards, lumber-yards, factories, ete., with tenements al] around. These business places, closed at night, make the spot a singularly dismal one, although it is busy enough during the day. Ben waited a moment on the Gowanus side, and then turned back again. His heart gave a bound, for there was the Italian girl coming rapidly toward him across the bridge. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Girl Kills a Bear with a Small Rifle “Miss Maude Riggles,” says N. F. Spicer, former Mayor of Laramie, Wyo., only 18 years of age, but a young lady of good courage and readiness of aim, shot and killed a cinnamon bear, almost full grown, using only one pullet from a .22 caliber Marlin rifle, a most - remarkable performance, when one remembers that a gun of that size carries a bullet not cal- eulated to do much harm in any event. The bullet entered the huge animal’s ear, producing instant death, not even marring the hide, which will be converted into a rug for the plucky young lady’s boudoir. The animal was chasing the calves in a corral belonging to Miss Riggles’s father when she made war upon it. She was so close to the bear, which had just thrown a calf, as to make her position very dan- gerous, but she did not hesitate to fire, the one shot being all that was necessary. She did not faint or even turn pale, but procéeded to summon help and skin the animal. It weighed several hundred pounds and the fur was in excellent con- dition. “The Liberty Boys of ’76,” No, 287, out to-day, contains Harry Moore’s stirring Revolutionary story, “THE. LIBERTY BOYS AND SIMON KENTON; _ OR, FIGHTING THE BRITISH ON THE OHIO.” . PRICE 5 CENTS PRICE 5 CENTS Spain is still a great country. for bull fights. The season starts on the first Sun- day after Lent, short interruption at the height of summer —till the month of October. Seville and ‘Madrid are the great centers of tauro- machia. In Spain no bull leaves the ring alive; neither do any of the horses. The expense of supplying even the poor hacks which are chosen is enormous, and in some -poverty “stricken townships horses. are omitted from the performance when the eorrida becomes a good deal more palatable to. the stranger, though less so to the na-. tive. O’Shea states that 2,400 bulls are killed pa and 3 uy horses, Renan ee who is’ and continues—with a (This story commenced in No. 610.) From Beqgar to Broker 5 —OoR—. THE BOY WHO WON A FORTUNE By HARVEY K. FORD CHAPTER XXII, DICK’S FIRST COMMISSION, “Hello, Dick, you seem to be taking the world easy all at once,” said Frank Daly, | pausing in front of Dick Hardy, who had come out of a Broad street office building in an unusually leisurely way for him. “Sure thing,” grinned Dick. “Why not?” “Looks kind of strange, that’s all. You are usually on the hop, skip and jump when you’re carrying messages.” “That’s right; but I’m not carrying one now.” “Oh, I thought you were.” “No. Um taking a holiday for a few days.” “A holiday! The deuce you are! How’s that? Taking advantage of the boss’s ab- sence in Europe,” with a grin. “I wish Mr, Brown would go to Europe, too. Maybe I’d get a chance to lay off a day or so, also.” “NO. vantage of anybody. from the office.” - “You don’t mean to say you've left Whiteley?” “T’ve left his office because i couldn’ t get along with the new manager.’ “He’s the broker that’s running Mr, Whiteley.’s business, isn’t he?” - “Vou’ve got it right.” “What was the trouble?” “We and I simply couldn’t hitch, that’s all? “He didn’t have the nerve to fire you, did he?” “No, but I guess he wanted to. However, I saved him from coming to the breaking point by putting my hat on and telling him 3 get another messenger.’ “You told him that, did you?” e Daly, with an admiring grin. “That’s what I did.” “You’ re pretty independent for a’ messen- ser poy. “JT don’t allow people to walk over me. I’ve been some time with Mr, Whiteley, and we got on all right. He treated me white. But this man called me down every day for one thing or another.” “What are you going to do? Looking for another job?” “No: I’m about to hang out my own shingle. I’ve rented a small office in this building, and ’'m going for a painter now to put my name on the doer.” “What, are you going on the curb?” in surprise. “Maybe I’m going on my nerve. At any rate, I am now a broker, and I want you to take your hat off to me after this.” “Vl take it off now if you say so,” grin- ned Daly. “T wouldn’t. You might catch cold. You had better run along anyway, or Brown will be giving you a jawing for wasting your time.” “Tf he does I’ll tell him I was looking at a curiosity.” “A curiosity! that?” “I mean the latest new thing in the fin- ancial’ district—the boy broker of Broad street.” “Oh, you’re too funny, Frank Daly. By the way, when you want to copper a stock just call on me. My room is 818. Id just as soon take your money as anyone else's. Call and see me anyway in a day or two. I hope to have a few scalps to show Mr. Whiteley when he comes back.” “Say, he won't like you leaving his of- fice.” “T guess he and I won’t fall out about that. So-long.” i Three days later Dick was, in his own estimation at least, a full-fledged stock broker. At any rate, the sign on the door of room 818, of the Blank Building, said so. The fact was further emphasized by a modest advertisement a several of the fin- ancial papers. ; Dick was ready Por business, with a sharp pair of shears in his desk in readi- ness for the first innocent lamb that wan- dered into his sanctum. Lambs, however, were not as plentiful as usual in Wall street just then, or they did not find their way so high up as room 818, for Dick waited in vain for one to show up and give him a trial order. He amused himself, however, studying the market records as he did of yore in Mr. Whiteley’s office, reading the financial papers, and making a few imaginary deals on his office pads. “Those shears of mine will grow rusty at this rate for want of-use,” he grinned one day, as he glanced down at the busy crowd of curb brokers in the street below. “Play- ing broker is all very ee in its way, but I’m not in the habit of taking ad- I’ve simply cut loose exclaimed What do you mean by it becomes a trifle monotonous when you haven’t the real thing’ to practice on. Tf guess I’ll go out and see what's going on.” He put on his hat and was about to shut down the desk when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, wondering if it was a customer at last. The door opened, and a ponderous look- ing man entered the office. He looked around the small place, and then said: “Mr. Hardy is out, I see.” “No, sir. I am Mr. Hardy,” said Dick politely. “Will you take a seat?” -“Youre Mr. Hardy!” gasped the man. “Yes, Sit Mr Dick. Hardy,” 5: “The dickens you are! Are you a stock broker?” “T have that honor, sir.” “By jove!” roared the visitor. “You’ve got a great nerve to call yourself a broker.” “Well, sir, it takes some nerve to be a broker these days,”’-smiled Dick, pleasant- ly. The big man stared and mopped his forehead vigorously. “Young man, I like your cheek.” “Thank you, sir. It is a satisfaction to be appreciated once in a while.” Say, how long “Well, Til be jiggered! have you been a broker?” “About two weeks, sir.”” “Two weeks, eh?” grinned the visitor, gardonically. “And how much business have you transacted in two weeks?” “Well, sir, that’s rather a personal ques- tion, don’t you think? However, I’m not offended in the least. Some people would be, but I’m not thin-skinned. The amount of “business I’ve done might be represented by a cipher.” “T thought so,” triumphantly. “Do you know I was donkey enough to come in here -to do a little business with the new broker?” “fT am very much obliged to you, sir.” “But ’m not going to do any business with you now,” roared the stout man. “Why not, sir?” replied Dick, with an engaging smile. “Why not? Because you’re a boy. A boy, do you hear?” “TI expect to be a man some day, sir.” “Look here, young man, I think I’ve seen you before.” “That’s quite possible.” “Wasn’t you a messenger boy for—for 97 “Mr. George Whiteley, No. — Wall street —yes, sir.’ “Oh. you were Whiteley’ $s boy, you?” in some surprise. se was. 9 “How came you to leave him?” “Fie went to Europe for his health, and I started out on my own hook.” “That was it, eh? Well, if you are the -boy who worked for Whiteley, that alters the complexion of things. You’re not an ordinary boy. I’ve heard a dozen—yes, a hundred—times that Whiteley’s boy was brighter than a steel trap. So you ve start- ed out as a broker. Got any capital?” “Yes, sir. How could I be a broker with- out capital?” “That’s right. But what I want to know, is it in money or cheek?” “In both, sir,” replied Dick, without a smile. “I’ve $39,000 cash, 30, 000 shares of Wild Cat Extension, of Goldfield, Nevy., worth, according to the latest market re- port, 22 cents a share, and I’ve got an un- limited cheek.” “T can swear you've got the last,” replied the’ stout visitor, grimly. “Do you mean to tell me you've got all that money, and you own all that stock?” “Yes, sir; and I can partly prove my words by showing you the certificates of the stock. The money is in my safe de- posit box, so you'll have to take my word for that, * Dick showed up the tock, which he took from his smali safe. The visitor looked them over and ap- peared to be satisfied. “Want to sell these shares? I'll give you my check for them at 35 cents a share.” “Thank you, but they’re not for sale. They’ll be worth a dollar inside of a year.” “How do you know they will?” asked Wwers “his visitor sharply. “Because I have information to that ef- fect.” The stout man looked Dick all over from his head to his heels, as if he was a natu- ral curiosity.” “Young man, I like you,” he said abrupt- ly; “I like you. I admire your nerve, and I admire you for the reputation you have made for yourself while with Whiteley. [ am going to give you.a commission. Your first commission, do you understand? My name is Bailey—latimer Bailey. My office is-at No. — Wall street. I want 10,000 shares of N. Y., B. & C. stock, to be paid for on. Pelvaty, When can you gét them for me?” : “You can have them by to-morrow morn- Ine Sin “Very well. I shall expect them to be de- livered before noon at my office. Let me have your card.” Dick handed him one, “Thank you. Good-day,” and the Saal man passed out of the office. “Gee whiz!” breathed Dick. “That isn't so bad for a ae order, and Vd have miss-_ ed it if I’d gone out a. few minutes sooner. Well, I must get busy. Ill have to divi my ‘commission with the brokers -from whom I get the stock, of course, but st I shan’t fare so bad, all things considered. He shut down his ‘desk, left his office, ani walked to the elevator. : CHAPTER XXIII, DICK GETS A NEW CUSTOMER, Dick picked up about 2,500 shares the stock he was seeking on the curb begin with, then he began a tour of vari ous offices to try and get the rest. . He wanted a thousand shares to complet his order when he entered a big broker Office in Exchange Place. He asked for Mr. Finkelstein, the ne of Finkelstein, Moses & Co., and was told that the gentleman was engaged. Then he asked to see Mr. Moses, ani found that he was out. He decided to wait a few minutes, took a paper, and sat in a corner near the tickel He presently became aware that he coul hear very plainly what was being said it room on his right. a He was about to alter his position, as. didn’t think it was exactly the right thin to listen to conversation not intended f0 his ear, when he caught the name of N.> B. & C, He became interested in a moment, i spite of his doubts as to the propriety of hi ; conduct, In the course of a few minutes he learned that a syndicate had been formed to boom the stock to par at oe was now quo ed at 73. Five minutes lates he. left the office, knowing it would be useless to wait, Finkelstein, Moses & Co.. were buying, not selling, this particular stock. He succeeded in getting the 1,000 shares he wanted to fill his contract at the very” next Office he called at. ; “Now, I’m going to see if T can buy: few thousand shares of N. Y.,.B. & C. on. margin in the same old way ‘that T ma my little hauls while with Mr. Whitele So he went around to his safe deposit box, pulled out a great wad of bills, ane went first to the broker who had formerly acted for him. He left an order with him to buy 2, 00 shares of the stock at 73. Then he visited three other brokers, and left an order with each of them for 1,000 shares at the same price. After that he got’his lunch, and returned to his office, satisfied that he had done a good day’s work, and. not caring a picayune whether anything more came his way fo! the next twenty-four hours or not. Next day he called at the different Offices where he had left his orders, and left alto- gether the sum of $36,500 to cover the mar- gins with, and found that the stock had been purchased and was held subject to his order. Three days later N. Y., B. & CG. beg to rise, and by the middle of the followi week had reached 86, and was beginning © to attract general attention. The following day it rose to 90, and the now developed a big rush on the part the shorts especially to get some of it to their contracts. But the stock was now as searce as hen? g teeth, as the syndicate for which Fink stein, Moses & Co, were acting had gOnbISe most. of it up. The consequence was it kept on rising at the rate of a full point a bid, and yet very little of it came out. In this manner it reached 98, at which. ee point 5,000 shares. were suddenly dumped on the market. Ag the pool had not yet begun to unload oe brokers had to take a small part of } * Dick was in the gallery at ihe time, oad” when he saw the 5,000 share sale he con- cluded that it was high time for him to get out from under. He rushed around to his different brok-. ers, and ordered them to sell his shares. Before they could do so another block of 5,000 shares was thrown on the market, and the pool had to take the bulk of it to sus- tain the price. Then Dick’s shares began to come out in — 1,000 share lots, and the brokers of the syn- dicate had to take them, though it stag- gered the pool somewhat, and set Mr, Fin- kelstein to wondering where it was all coming from, and how mueh there was of the avalanche. 4 In fact, the members of the pool were getting the shock of their lives, for if this — bombardment went on a little longer they were likely to find themselves in the soup. Their resources, however, enabled them to hold out, and after Dick’s shares had been taken in, the rush of shares ceased, and the price went up to par. Dick having seen that his holding had been disposed of at the market price, ceased to have any further interest in the stock be- yond calculating his profits, which, after . all. expenses had been paid, proved -to -~ wpon him. HAPPY DAYS. : about $123,000, raising his capital to $160,- 000. woe One day not long afterward Dick got a jetter in the morning mail. He opened it and found it ran as fol- lows: “ “Parsons Corners, Tioga Co., N. Y. “Mister. Richard Hardy, Stock Broker: “Room 818, Blank Building, New York: “Dear Sir—I want to invest some money that just come to me in some good stock that will go up and make my fortin. I seen your advt. in the Wall Street Calculator, and as I was once courted by a man—he was a very nice man, only he had one eye and a game leg—of the name of Hardy, I - come to the conclusion to let you invest my A money accordin’ to your best judgment. i “send all I got—$5,000. Please use it to the best advantage, and let me know when se have made somethin’ out of it. “Vours respectfully, “Martha Dusenbery.” Enclosed was a check on the Tioga Na- tional Bank for $5,000, signed by the lady. “I wonder if this is a joke?” thought ‘Dick, “It looks genuine enough on the face of it. I'll see if the check is good by. tele- » graphing the bank.” _ He sent the telegram off, and an hour or -so later got a reply from the Tioga Na- tional Bank that Martha Dusenbery’s oS ‘was good for $5,000 on that bank. _ So Dick endorsed the check, took it ‘around to his regular broker, “and asked him to put it through his bank for collec- tion. In three days he-got the money. » Dick took as much interest in placing ‘that money as if it was his own. _. Before he had made up his mind in what stock he should invest. it he discovered that M. & N. was climbing up. It had started at 60, and now was 68, |. He decided to put $4,760 of Martha Du- : senbery’ g money into 700 shares On a mar- gin, and he also bought 4,300 shares for himself. Then he wrote Miss Dusenbery—he took he chance of addressing her as a miss— and told her what he had done with her ~ money. - In a day or so the stock had advanced to Dick decided it would be wise to sell at _ that figure, as he was afraid to take the chances of a further rise. So he closed the stock out at 75 1-2, mak- ing a profit of $4,900 for Martha Dusen- bery, and $30,000 for himself. It was fortunate that he acted so prompt- ly, for the next day the bottom fell out of M. & N., and the stock went down to- 66. CHAPTER XXIV. ‘THE BOY WHO WON A FORTUNE. - Dick wrote a note, enclosing a statement, ‘to Martha Dusenbery, but POFEOE to post lad ; Three days later, while on his way to “lunch, he found the stamped envelope in his pocket, and after metaphorically kick- ing himself for his forgetfulness, put it into a street letter-box. __ When he got back to the ninth floor of the Blank Building he found an excited lady, . spare in stature and uncertain of HE pacing the corridor in front of room eA Ok . AS soon as he stepped up to the door and - thrust his key inte the lock the lady A Danced on him like a hawk upon a chick- en. “T want to see Mr. Richard Hardy,” she exclaimed, in a tone that was not very re- assuring to Dick. “Certainly, madam. Walk right inside,” Ed the young broker, politely. The first thing the lady did was to look ‘all around the little 6x9 room, and then she sniffed contemptuously. “J might have known it,” she snapped. - “What sort of a person is your employer, young man?” she asked, tartly. = “I haven’t any employer, madam. I am a stock broker, That is my name on the es a > “What!” exclaimed the visitor, glaring at fe ‘the boy. “Why, you’re only a poy! 2 Dick was getting somewhat weary of be- - ing called a boy in that contemptuous "way some people have of expressing them- selves. - However, he couldn’t very well resent the ~lady’s manner, so he merely bowed. - “Do you mean to tell me you are the per- gon who advertised in the Financial Cal- - eulator that you bought and sold stocks on commission, loaned money on margins, and I don’t know whaigelse?” _“Yes, madam;” replied Dick, as a strong _ Suspicion of his visitor’s identity dawned ‘Parsons Corners, N. Y.?”. - ‘“T am,” with a savage look. “I sent you $5,000 to invest in stocks for me, think- ing that you were a man, with a big Office in Broad street. You took my money, _ wrote me that you had bought 700‘shares of -M. &_N. stock at $68 a share, and two days ago I read that that stcck had gone “Are you Martha Dusenbery, of down to $66, and folks up my way say I’ve lost all my money, so I came to York to see about it. Do you know you are a swin- dler? I intend to have you arrested and put in the lock-up, unless you give me my money back. The idea of boys advertising themselves .as stock brokers to defraud un- protected women like myself. It’s an out- rage!” She fanned herself vigorously, and look- ed daggers at Dick. “Madam,” replied the young broker, courteously, “I am sorry you had to take this trip to the city. It is all my fault, and therefore I shall pay the expenses of your trip. You have not lost a dollar, madam; in fact, you have made $4,900 profit, for M. & N. stock advanced $7 a share before it dropped, and I sold out your holdings at 75. I wrote you a letter enclosing a state- ment of your account three days ago.” “T never got it,” replied the lady, very much mollified.. “I am aware of that, for I found half an hour ago that through a bit of carelessness I had forgotten to post it. I put it in a mail box then, and you will get it when you re- turn to your home.” “Do you mean to tell me that my money is safe, and that,you made $4,900 for me, young man?” “J do, madam. I-will show you the ac- count of the transaction in my book.” Dick did so, and Miss Dusenbery held up her hands in wonder, not to say admira- tion for the ee of the youthful brok- er. “Why, you're smarter than most men, young man.” “Thank you, madam; but I think that a few minutes ago you accused me of swin- dling you, and threatened to have me ar- rested.” “Tll take it all back.” ae “Very well. We'll let it zo at that. I must admit you apparently had cause to doubt me. Shall I hand you the $9,900, less my commission?” said Dick, going to his safe. “By no means, young man. I am satis. fied as to your honesty, and I am glad to Enow you. If you ever come to Parsons Corners you must call on me.” “Thank you, Miss Dusenbery. But what do you want me to do with your money? There is $9,725 due you.” “You can hand me $125. The balance you can invest according to your judg- ment.” “But, madam, I cannot guarantee to make money for. yourizht along, My next deal might be a poor one, in which case ‘you would be.likely to lose in place of gain- ing. I cannot hold myself responsible for the turns the market may take.” “I shan*t hold you reponsible. you to have charge of my money.” “Very well; but I advise you not to risk all your money in stocks. Let me send you a draft for $4,300. I will try to invest your original $5,000 once more to advantage. If anything should go wrong you will have the $4,399 in bank, anyway.” “Very well, young man. Just as you please. You’re an honest boy, and I’ll tell all the people in Parsons Corners how smart you are.” She got up to go, and Dick handed her the $125 she had asked for. “Let me know by mail how much it has cost you coming to the city on my ac- count, and I will remit the amount,” said Dick. “You won't do anything of the kind, young man. I am glad I came to York, and I’m going to see some of the sights before I get back. Good-by, Mr. Hardy. I’m pleased to have met you. If you come to Parsons Corners, don’t fail to call around and visit me. I live in the little white cot- tage with the green blinds close to the blacksmith shop.” With these words Miss Dusenbery de- parted, a very different person to what she had come there half an hour previously. She had hardly been gone five minutes before a knock came at his door. “Come in,” said Dick. Two men in a kind of clerical attire ente- ed. “We have come to-solicit a subscription for——” The familiarity of the tones attracted the boy’s attention, He regarded them sharply, and then saw through their disguise. He was face to face again with Black Dan Ruggles and Danny French, his pal. They realized he had penetrated their identity before they were ready to act, so they had.to decide upon a mancuver ‘at once. Out came their et ae with surprising quickness, and in a moment they had him covered. “This time we'll finish you up for keeps, young man,” gritted Ruggles. “You have been a thorn in my side long enough.” 4 “What do you mean to do, Dan Ruggles?” ruaued Dick, unflinchingly. “Kill you! ” cried the villain, menacinegly. “What good will that do you. If you shoot me you will only alarm the building and be taken red-handed.” “There are Other ways Of fixing you that make no noise,” replied Ruggles, dark- ly. “We'll give you an easy death, ard no one will be the wiser. I want _all round. Essen. Get out your chloro- form, Danny. If you move an inch Ill take the risk and blow your brains out,” he added threateningly to the young broker. Dick saw that he was in a tight box, and he. didn’t see any way to escape the fate they had in view for him. Danny French produced the bottle and a rag. “Lock the door first, Danny, and then we will be safe.” Danny’ turned to do so when it was thrown open, and two detectives, who had been shadowing the rascals—something about their make-up having attracted their notice—entered the room at that moment. Ruggles started back with an oath. Dick, seeing his chance, sprang upon the villain and bore him to the floor. In two minutes both of them were hand- cuffed. “IT am much obliged to you, gentlemen. You came just in time to save my life,” said Dick, gratefully. “How did you get on to their movements?” One of the officers explained. “Well, you will win a reward of $5, 000, for these men are Black Dan Ruggles and his pal, Danny French, who have been long wanted for many crimes. Take them to the Tombs. I will appear against them.” The rascals were carried off by the detec- tives and lodged in prison. ‘Subsequently they were tried and sent up to Sing Sing for a long term. Dick gradually became known as a smart young broker, and he soon got many cus- tomers, and made money fast. ~ _ A year passed away, and then George Whiteley, entirely restored to health, and his pretty daughter, now nearly sixteen, re- turned to New York. The meeting between Dick and Jessie ‘was very affectionate, and between the boy and Mr. Whiteley very cordial. Their old relations were resumed, and it wasn’t long before the big broker had tac- itly consented to receive his protege as his prospective son-in-law. But the marriage of the young people was not to take place until Jessie had fin- ished her schooling and reached her nine- teenth year. Mr. Whiteley was so pleased with the boy’s showing during his absence that he told him that as soon as he married Jessie he would take him as an equal Partner in his business. Long before that time came Dick had dis- posed of his Wild Cat Extension shares for $75,000, a profit of $1,000 for every dollar he- had invested in the stock. This raised his capital to over $350,000, and on the day before his marriage he showed his father-in-law-to-be his pass- ~book in the Manhattan National Bank, where he had now half a million dollars to his credit. “You are a most remarkable boy, ” Mr, Whiteley said to him, “and I am proud to have had a hand in giving you the chance by which you have risen from beggar to broker.” (THE END.) $0404040+40+40+0+40+40+4040+4040+40 “Wild West Weekly,” No, 198, is out. to- day; containing An Old Scout’s dashing Western romance, entitled “YOUNG WILD WEST’S BUCKHORN BOWIE, AND HOW IT SAVED HIS PARTNERS. PRICE 5 CENTS PRICE 5 CENTS 9040404040404 040+4040407040404 BERTHA HRUPP’S INCOME Bertha Krupp has received a new title, “Queen Krupp,” by which she is known Her income goes on in- creasing; so does her state and power. The reserve of the Essen works, according to a balance sheet just published, amounts now to nearly. $100,000,000, and the young wo- ‘man’s net income for the year ending Noy. 30 from the Essen works alone was $3,150,- 000. If we add that from mines, ship- building, and other concerns, the total amount will be close to $5,000,000. Bertha Krupp is absolute owner of her kingdom; in Essen alone she has 40,000 workers toiling for her, who with their families make a total of more than 200,000 persons dependent on her nod. If other concerns be added we have a total of 300,000 de- pendents. Thousands of engines, tens of thousands of men, are daily coining gold for her. She owns gas works, railways, telegraphs, telephones, her own bakeries, slaughter-houses, and general stores. Her subjects are under her sceptre as under no other ruler’s throughout the empire. She has even her own army, regularly drilled, with stern rules of discipline; it is called a fire brigade, but is as much a body of picked troops as any in Germany. Her army numbers more than nine hundred men, all well armed. Sentinels march up and down the terrace of her castle, and there are pickets throughout the grounds. To get at “the queen” you must first pass her incorruptible guards. She has also police and a secret service. Finally, she has her ambassadors in every court in Eu- rope. They may not be known in the regu- lar diplomatic world as such, but they are there all the same, and are a power to be reckoned with. _ climbed A Little Pun The Thin One.—Did you say ghe is try- ing to reduce her weight? The Fat One— Yes, if flying will do it. “What sort of a-man is Jimson?” “Oh, he’s one of those fellows who send their washwoman a check for $2, and spell it ‘cheque.’ ” “Sometimes,” said Uncle Eben, “a man takes credit foh bein’ honest when he’s merely been doin’ business wif folks dat aes give him a chance to be anything else.” “I suppose,” said Mrs, Jawback, “that you think it’s fun for me to sit up and wait for you every night like this.” “Nope,” answered Jawback. “I’m having my fun while you’re waiting. You have yours ~ when I get home.” “These editors are hard to please.” “What's the matter now?” “They used to send back my stuff because they could- n’t -read it.”. “You. ought to get a type writer.” “I did, and now they send it back because they can read it. What’s a fellow - to do?” A school-teacher one day during the hour for drawing suggested to her pupils that each draw what he or she would like to be when grown up. At the end of the les- son one little girl:showed an empty slate. “Why,” said the teacher, “isn’t there any- thing you would like to be when you grow up?” “Yes,” said the little girl, “I would like to be married, but I don’t know how to draw it.” cut. my hair with the clippers, said the new. customer as he into the barber’s chair. At right, sir,” replied the knight of the razor and shears. “Training for a prizefight?” “No,” said the new customer. “Excise me ‘for asking,” said the barber, “but I imagined—” “Never mind what you im- agined. I’m going to be married to-mor- row, and that’s all there is to it.” ‘6 Say, please, ” BUY 10-CENT HANDBOOK No. 81 HOW TO MESMERIZE Containing the most approved methods of mesmerism; also how to cure al! kinds of diseases by animal magnetism; or Mag- netic Healing, by Prof. Leo Hugo Kock (A. C. S.) OUR Interesting Items. A sheep with a wooden leg is a curiosity at the farm of Ira Quaintance, in Dallas township, Texas. Harly this year the sheep was struck by lightning, its foot and part of the leg being torn off. Ag the ani- mal was a valuable one, Quaintance con- cluded to try an artificial limb. He cover- ed it with wool, and so well does the sheep use-it that people would not detect ee difference except for a slight limp. Farmers down in Richmond county, N. B., on Dry -Creek, are ploughing up coins. On the south side of the creek copper pieces bearing the name of George Wash- ington are being found, and on the north side the coins unearthed bear the name of a King of England.” A number of these coins have been gathered recently, and it is supposed that they were left there in the pockets of dead soldiers during the Revolutionary War. Mr. F. C. Landis of — this city has a number of them. Mrs. Armistead, Trefnant Glen, Garth, Anglesey, England, says a robin is sitting | on its nest of eggs in her drawing-room. “The bird,” she adds, “comes and goes through the window, which is left open on purpose, and although the members of the family are constantly in the room, togeth- er with a Persian cat and a fox terrier, the bird takes no heed of either, and the cat never interferes with the bird. The nest is built on the edge of a bookcase, which is in a recess at the far end of the room,” The wreck at the enfrance to Port Philip Bay, near Melbourne, of the P. & O. steam- er ‘Australia about four years ago has brought a fortune to a Melbourne draper, now the Hon. J. G. Aikman. The ship, which cost $2,750,000, was put up to auc- tion, and Mr. Aikman bought it for $1,450. He gave an additional $300 for the cargo. Divers set to work and brought up all inds of goods—drapery. hardware, elec- troplated articles, etc.; 900 tons of iron, steel, etc., were recovered, and sold at $50 a ton. Ten tons of Muntz metal, taken out of the vessel in less oe a day, realized $3,750. : 8 HAPPY DAYS. NEW YORK, JULY 14, 1906. Terms to Subscribers. | One C One Year. . . $2.50 One Copy Six Months : - L25 One Copy Three Months. . 63c All remittances .should be sent by express ‘money order, P. O. order or draft on New York to insure safety. We will be responsible for all money sent in this way. Postage Free During the year 1906 Happy Days will be for- warded FREN oF PoSTAGH, to our subscribers, which will enable all our readers residing in re- mote parts of the country to receive their favor- ite journal at a low rate. 4 Address FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 24 Union Square, New York. NOTICE? Those of our readers who wish any of the back numbers of HAPPY DAYS and cannot procure them from their newsdealer, can, by sending to us, secure any back number they desire, at 5 cents per copy. “d> dla tr lr lle I llasled HAPPY By H. K. SHACKLEFORD “Dan Driscoll’'s Dollar,” “All by Himself,” Author of “Hardy Webb,” Boy's Chance,” CHAPTER IX. HOW MATT FOUND HIS BACKER. Matt and Addison climbed down the precipice and joined the merchant, who still showed signs of great fright and much excitement, “Look here, boys,” said he, “I don’t stay behind any more by myself, for as that bear came tumbling down the precipice lr lale> Ww BGOOOCOO @ READ THIS “Sag As DNS SIN NN WN YN LPI fae READ THIS , NEXT WEEK"@) NEXT WEEK POVPVUOIS? © DAYS. (This story commenced in No. 612,} MATT Wills LiANMS, The Young Land Speculator OR. A FOOL FOR LUCE “Truthful James,” “A Poor “A Boy and His Nickel,” ete. The merchant looked on with great sat- isfaction and saw his man and his young friend cast the refuse of the last bear into the pool, and again watched the great com- motion among the pike there. . They erected more poles, built a larger fire, and then the merchant and his man filled their pipes and sat down to discuss the adventures of the day.: The merchant asked Matt if he minded staying behind while they went lower tieularly* bear ham, is the finest tasting food in the world for a hungry appe- tite. Now,°as long as three men are to-. gether it will take at least a dozen wolves to muster courage enough to attack, so you need have no fear whatever when you see a wolf sniffing the air and occasionally giving vent to a shrill yelp.” Matt and Addison made a big pile of leaves over the smoked bear Meat and then proceeded to build their camp, during which time the merchant got his fishing tackle and began to try his luck at catch- ing bass, which has made that part of the stream so famous. The merchant never thought bass tasted so sweet to him as the first one he caught after entering that camp. : The bass is a fish which is all the better if fresh from the water; and these were fresh enough that day. Mr. Rankin, the merchant, thought the - spot the most beautiful of those he had * seen since he started down the valley, and saw that the water just below the spot had accumulated into a large, natural pond. “This is the place I have been most anx- TT ———S— ——S—" cA .. numbers of any of above weeklies from newsdealers VPOOOWOQOQOHDOOO HOOOOOO OOOO OOOO OE $14,075 Reward To any person who can prove that the stor- ies issued in the below mentioned Weeklies are not LONGER and BETTER than any others of their kind published. The Liberty Boys of ’76 No. 287 The Liberty Boys and Simon Kenton or, Fighting the British on the Ohio, Pluck and Luck No. 421 Hdgewood No. 2 or, The Only Boy in the Fire Company. Wild West Weelily No. 193 Young Wild West’s Buckhorn Bowtie and, How It Saved. His Partners. Wide Awake Weelily No. 11 Cut Out For An Officer or, Corporal Ted in the Philippines. Fame and FortuneWeekly No.39 Never Say Die or, The Young Surveyor of Happy Valley. Work and -Win No. 395 Fred Fearnot’s Conquering Stroke or, Winning the Silver Sculls. Secret Service No. 388 “The Bradys and “Old Man Money” - or, Hustling for Wall Street Millions. SPECIAL NOTICE:—If you cannot procure back ~ send the price to us in money or postage stamps and we will send them to you by return mail. Address FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, ee saensee : he looked to me to be as large as an ele- phant, and he came down growling, too, for all he was worth, as much as to say, ‘You man down there, wait until I reach you and then good-by for you.’ ” “Well, why didn’t you kill him at the first shot?” Matt inquired. “Hanged if I know. _ It was my inten- tion to do so, but I guess my bullet went right through his shoulders instead of. his head, or some other vital. part. He came tumbling down right alongside of one of the poles to which was suspended a ham and a shoulder. He brought the meat down with him among the coals. As soon as he scrambled out of the fire, I saw from his limp where my bullet had struck him, and he went hopping around on three paws, growling as though he intended to do Me up as soon as he could get at me, but I loaded and fired as fast as I could.” “Yes,” laughed Matt, “and yelled for help with every shot.” “T don’t doubt that, for an angry bear is not a pleasant companion, by any means,” said the merchant. “You must have been ten miles away, from the time you took to get here.” “No,” laughed Matt again, “it was only half a mile. We didn’t go a foot further.” “Well, you two were shooting at some- thing all the time.” . “Yes, sir; we shot any number of squir- rels, big, fine, fat ones they were, too.” Matt laughed heartily then and added: “We got only small game and left the larger ones for you.” “Yes, I got the larger game and also the largest fright of my life. Now, no more of this separation for me. We hunt to- gether hereafter or not at all. I believe that if my last bullet had gone wild I would have deliberately leaped. intd the pool below, for I am sure that bruin would have come for me with the intention of 24 Union Square, New. York City. feasting on my meat.” THERE WERE ANY TWO MEN THERE WHO down the creek in quest of another place for smoking and curing their meat. “Lord bless you, no, sir. Go ahead and [ll take care of everything in the way. of game that comes within reach of my rifle,” and turning to Addison, he suggest- ed that he keep straight down the path on the right side of the stream for about half a mile, saying it was a great place for bass, and that there was a splendid spring near the pool which contained the bass, and that the water was much better than that of the stream itself. There was a good place for a tent also, and, altogether, it was a pleasant camping place. “Let’s go there,” suggested the merchant, “Pm tired of this place, anyway,” and then suggested that they waste no time hunting for it, as the guide already knew where it was, and they decided to start at once. “We'll eat the freshest bear steaks in our possession.” “You don’t want any more smoked bear meat, eh?” asked Matt. “Ves, I prefer it to strictly fresh meat; but I don’t want to smoke it in a smoke house, so just broil it on the coals without hanging it up.” So the little party started out at once, taking everything: in their little camp along, and after about a half- mile’s travel, they struck the spot, which was just as Matt had described it. remarked Rankin. _ “Yes,” replied Matt.. “We’ll travel many miles before we strike a prettier place for a camp,” and they went to. work to spread their tent. “Now, Mr. Rankin,” said the boy, “this is indeed a pretty place; but don’t you forget that we have smoked as well as fresh bear steak and the scent of- it will attract game for miles around us. You must keep your eyes open for bears and wolves. Of course, as long as they hold us in sight they’ll keep out of the way. wolf. thinks that smoked bear meat, par- “By George, but this is a lovely spot,”> A. © ; $ > @: .O) erciules marry: > iO) > © cS g $ or 7 : > S > > ¢ A Hard Boy To Handle > ° By C. LITTLE ; ® $ THE STORY of a bright, muscular boy, who $ $ by the use of his brains and strength recovers $ $ astolen gold mine. This serial contains exciting . $ adventures, and dramatic situations : : :°: : : g > 8 & @ READ THIS “Sa ee READ THIS : S $ NEXT WEEK“@aqg 4G NEXT WEEK ¢ © Ka $5555 7 POHHGHSHOHHHHHHOHSS © oF ® & * : © s Another Treat Coming! ¢ © © © $ OS IN No. 615 BH ° - © > : : ; $ Watch for the serial to appear in this number $ S, ' > B05 00-2 060-090-0902 050409004 0G04090-+ > ® : = Should you desire to know what the g Q stories are like which we issue in our } $ BIG g@-7 “OR, THE BOY WHO HAD NO FRIENDS By ti. T. Emmet Author of ‘Jocandthe Jap,” “A Born Fakir,” “rhe King of Black Art.”.*‘On Pop,” “Handy Harry, the Town Genius,” ae CHAPTER XVI, A SCHEMER’S PROPOSITION, Wyatt and young Hall continued up the avenue, and presently Gil heard the young man say: “T can’t give you any more money. Why don’t you get a ship and keep away from New York? It’s a good deal safer.” “Ah don’ wanter take a ship from ’ere,” growled Wyatt. “Besoides, they ‘won’t ship me, ‘cause Ah jumped my advance.” “1 told you to get out, and thought you were going to.” “Wull, Ah didn’t, an’ that’s all there is to it “Then you'll have to go somewhere else and ship, or the first thing you know There were not very many persons on the avenue at this time, but at that m6- ment a erowd of young fellows came around a corner and blocked the way. Wyatt and young Hall stopped abrupt- ly, and Gil and Cohen knew nothing of the trouble till they almost collided with the others. There was a very bright street light at that point, and as Wyatt, hearing steps behind him, turned to see who was com- ing he caught sight of Gil. In an instant he turned and shot across the street, and then Hall, in trying to avoid. the crewd in front, also saw Gil and his friend. The crowd passed on, but before Hall ‘eould get away Gil caught him by the arm and said: “So, you are trying to keep this man from meeting me, are you? I thought you had something to do with his disappear- ance.” “I don’t know what you are_ talking about,” snarled Hall. “We were talking upon strictly private business that con- cerns Me alone. What right have you to pry into my affairs?” “The best in the world when they con- cern me,” answered Gil. “What is it that you don’t want me to know?” - : “Nothing!” growled Hall, breaking away from Gil and hurrying off down the street. “Well, we’ve missed him again,” said Gil, “but I have learned something, at any rate. Harry Hall is in the plot, and has been trying to keep Wyatt out of! the way.” ees “And the fellow has been getting money out of him, as far as I can sée,” said Co- hen. “Yes, but if it was a matter of money I would pay Wyatt to tell the truth.” “Yes, I suppose you might, but: he al- Ways seems to try and avoid you. Would- n’t you think he would have asked you for money, instead of going to this young fel- low?” “So I would think; but the whole thing is so mysterious. ” A day or so after this Gil had business down on the river front, and when he had finished. it he stopped in at the shipping office and inquired for young Hal, The cashier looked at him rather strangely, he thought, if not suspiciously, and then asked: “Was he a friend of yours?” “Hardly,” said Gil. “What I wanted to see him about was a matter of business.” “Well, he is not here any longer. We found that he considered his own interests rather more than the firm’s, and we thought that we could dispense with him.” “Then you don’t know where he has gone?” “I know where he isclikely to go if he keeps up the methods he adopted here,” replied the other drily. “T see,” said Gil, who understood fron the man’s remarks ‘that Hall had not been strictly honest, may even have appropri- ated some of the firm’s “Inoney to his own use, “We have no use for fellows like that,” -the man continued. “The boss might have prosecuted him, but I guess‘he thought it was easier to bounce him.” “T am sorry for him,” said Gil. eT thought you said he was no friend of yours. “He isn’t, but I am sorry for anyone who gets in trouble,” answered Gil, During the next week Hall came to the office one morning, and asked to see Gil alone for a few minutes On a matter of business, * When he was shown in He sat down carelessly, keeping on his hat and smok- ing a cigar, and said, with his most impu-- dent drawl: “How. much would it be worth if I could give you certain information relating to | that little affair up the State, your fath-— er’s case?” “What do you know?” asked Gil, start- ing up. “I?” drawled Hall, puffing at his cigar. e “Pr didnt say 1 knew anything, my dear fellow. If I could obtain information that would put a different face on a certain © affair, would it be worth anything?” “How much do you want?” asked Gil, “Well, I would rather you would state a price that would suit you,” answered Hall. it. ” “You miserable liar!” said Gil, don’t you come out plain and speak the. truth? You possess certain information which you want to sell me. Now, what is- your price?” , “Well, I don’t think five hundred dolar is too much, do you?” “Suppose I said it was too much?” “Oh, but I don’t think you will when I tell you the nature. of the information.” “Suppose I refused to give you any- thing?” asked Gil, slowly. “Then you won't Set. 1,2 and, whats “Then I could see if E could arrange y 6 “why oe more, I’ll tell your employer and all these _ new friends of yours that your father was a thief, and that you left home yourself to ~ avoid arrest. You’ll be stranded wors than ever if I start certain rumors to Z0 ing. 9 “Then you ten me, do you?” asked Gil, with a calmness that portended an outbreak. “Yes, i do,” said Hall, arising in evident alarm, “and I’ll- show you that I can do all that I say I will.” “T “will give you just fifteen seconds to get on the other side of that door,” said Gil. “If you are not out by that time Vu kick you out. You are a blackmailer; and I could have you sent to jail, but I prefer a quicker method of getting rid of you. a Now, get out!” “You'll be sorry for this, Gil Clinton,” snarled Hall. “You think you ~have friends, but if I was to say the word——” “He did not finish, for Gil sprang at him: with the fury of a tornado. He made a dash for the door, which at that. moment was opened by Maggie, the crippled newsgirl. “Vll fix you!” he shouted. IT can——.” “Get out!” cried Gil, command with a kick. “Gee! is dat de way you soive all your wisitors?” exclaimed the girl, _SNo,” Jaughed Gil. “Come What ean I do for you?” T en’y wanter know if you want day pape’s de same as oder days.” “Yes; leave them, or, if no one save them.” “Dat’s all right,” “He may know something,” Gil, “but I won’t be blackmailed. It was his father, by the way, who testified that my father was one of the men in the wag- on that drove out of town with the pro- ceeds of the robbery. I wonder if he com- mitted perjury, the same as Wyatt. f never liked Hall, but I thought that he was honest, at any rate.” Business matters speedily engrossed Gil’s attention, and he soon got over the disagreeable feelings aroused Hall’s visit. That night Jack Horton had invited him to dinner, and afterward they were going “You'll find emphasizing his in, Maggie, de holi- is here, and Maggie went out. to. the theater with a party of their: -~ friends, a dozen or more in all, When Gil arrived at Mr. Horton’s, how- ever, he. saw that there was considerable excitement over something, and a moment later Jack appeared and «said: “We can’t go, Gil, or not unless this matter is settled, at any rate.” “What matter, Jack? What is the trou- ble?” 2 ; “Then you haven’t heard?” “I have heard nothing. What matter? Is anything wrong?” “Cissy has disappeared, and sent out a general alarm to the stations in the city.” is the CHAPTER XVII. 7 AN OFFER, “Disappeared?” repeated Gil. you think has happened? Has-she been stolen or simply lost?” ~“That we don’t know. She was out with the nurse, who stopped for a moment to look in at a shop window, and when she turned around Cissy was missing.” “Was the street crowded?” “Not very much. The girl was fright- ened, and began wringing her hands and running first this way and that. Then a boy told her that he had seen the little © girl going up the avenue with a man.” “Who was the boy?” “We don’t know. He hasn’t been seen since, and the girl cannot describe him any more than to say that he was a boy.” “Did the girl go up the avenue to look for Cissy?” “Ves; two or three blocks, came home.” “Then you sent out the alarm?” : “Yes, and we've been telephoning and telegraphing ever since.” a se. muttered _ by young -- we have |. é “What dor and. thenc. os, arel. HAPPY DAYS. 11 , When did the thing happen?” “About half-past four. We sent word to you, but I-suppose you must have left.” “Veg, I had. You haven’ t heard from the police?” “Nothing definite. They say they will keep a lookout and report any lost chil- dren that come into the stations.” ““Phere’s the telephone bell now,” said Gil, . ack hurried to the telephone, and an- swered the call. “Hallo! Yes, this is Mr. Horton’s. Headquarters? Yes. They have two or three children, but none answering to Cis- Ss description. She could tell her own ame anyhow, for she is a bright child.” “Yes. What else do they say?” “That they'll send us other reports as -“T don’t believe you or get enens from _ the police,” said Gil. “Why not?” “T believe she has-been stolen.” “What makés you think so?” “Because the boy, if he had been honest, would have gone with the girl. Boys love excitement, and he would have wanted to ee the child recovered. I think he was in he pay of the abductors.” “Yes, but dad hasn’t an enemy in the rid, is He might not have, and yet someone ght steal his child in the hope of get- g a reward. There is another thing I ve béen thinking of.” What is it?” “This may have been done to strike at me. 33 ; AL you; Gil?” asked Jack, in surprise. “Tp what way?” Harry Hall was in to see me to-day, and ade a proposition.” “What was it?” “That I give him five hundred dollars for information that would clear my fath-. er’s name.” Ves 2?” “T refused to ston to him, and he threat- ened me. Then I kicked him out of the office.” “Good for you. I'd like to have been _ there to help. -Well, what do you think?” -. “Cissy knows him, and has always been friendly to him. he would go with him while she might not go with a stranger. hen he could threaten me with harm to the child unless I acceded to his demands, nowing that I was fond of her, and that “Do you think he has done this?” “I don’t know, but I think he might.” “Well, that’s ‘important, When did he ugha “This morning.” “H’m! ork. We will have to look into this.” Mr. Horton came in presently, and Jack Id him what Gil had said. Detectives were sent to the house where Hall had lived, but he had not been there for a month, and no one knew where he jad gone, Up to nine o’clock Cissy had not been brought into any of the stations, and noth- ing had been seen of her. Another general alarm had been sent out to watch the vari- yous trains and boats leaving the city. At midnight there was still no news of her, and Gil went hoime feeling very sad, with his mind in a whirl over various schemes for ascertaining the.child’s where- } The next morning, when he went to the Office, he found a letter which had been mailed from Brooklyn, written, and ad- dressed in typewriting, which caused him considerable excitement. The letter was neither dated nor signed, and. read as follows: “Gilbert Clinton: “Dear Sir—I know where Cissy Horton has been taken, and she will be returned upon the following terms. Go to the wait- g-room of the Pennsylvania railroad to- ‘night at seven o’clock alone, bringing one thousand dollars in clean, new, unmarked bills in a plain envelope, which you will hand to anyone who says: ‘Have you brought the price?’ If you say ‘Yes,’ and hand over the envelope the person will gay, ‘Then I will let you have the goods,’ and you must sit quietly in one place for “fifteen minutes, when you will see the child who will give you an envelope con- taining certain information of great im- - portance to you. De not bring any spies or detectives with you, and obey the above _ instructions. absolutely, or your visit will -yesuit in nothing. The messenger will know if anyone comes with you, and will not address you. Obey instructions, bring the money, and all will be well. If not, you will jregret it.” Gil read this letter twice, pondering seri- ously upon it, and then took it to Mr. Hor- _ ton, and handed it to him without any comments. The gentleman read the letter, and then . said: “Well, I will furnish you the money. It ast much to pay for the restoration of my PC 2 : ‘ “TI would not do anything of the sort,” _ gaid Gil, decidedly. | . work of a clumsy kidnapper, and a scoun- Harry Hall is at the bottom of it, I pa That would give him time to “This business is the i bloke been doin’ am certain. I do not think that Cissy is in any danger, and I believe that we can recover her and capture him without much trouble. “Tf we accede to these demands and pay over the money, he will make known the contents of this letter, and say that I wrote it myself. he will demand money of me to purchase his silence, and I will not obtain the in- formation he promises to give. He will keep raising the price, and tell me noth- ing. In fact, I am not sure that he can tell me anything.” “Then what course would you advise?” asked Mr. Horton. “This letter was mailed in Brooklyn to make us think that the child had been taken there, but I do not think that she was. The same boy who misdirected the nurse probably mailed it over there, and the child is probably in Jersey City, as it would be easier to seerete her there than in the city.” “But why wouldn’t Brooklyn do as well as Jersey City?” “Tt is farther from where you live, and unless he took her to a considerable dis- tance, could find no good place to secrete her. A few weeks ago I would not have known this, but you see that since I have been with you I have made astudy of all these locations.” “Then what do you think he has done?” “Taken her to Jersey City, and left her somewhere at a convenient distance to the Pennsylvania station, so that she can be brought there in a short time after I have given the messenger the money.” “And you think that Hall has abducted her?” “Yes, and that as soon as he gets this money he will decamp. Cissy knows him, and will of course tell what part he has taken in the affair. No one else could have taken her away so quickly. She knew him, and‘ probably went willingly.” “How do you purpose acting then to re- cover her?” “t shall look for Harry Hall in Jersey City.” “He will recognize you.” “TI have thought of that, and shall pro- cure a disguise.” “Do you wish the assistance of a detec- tive?” “No; because I think I can accomplish more without one,’ “When will you begin the search?” “At once.’ “Then I wish you all success.’ CHAPTER XVIII VALUABLE INFORMATION, Gil crossed the park to the bridge en- trance. for the. purpose of seeing Maggie, and asking her if she could get him some old clothes with which to disguise himself When the girl saw him; she said: “Gee! I’ve been laughin’ ever since. at the way youse kicked dat feller out yes’- day, an’ gay, he’s gone inter partnership wit Slabsey. Yer know Slabsey? He’s de feller dat trun all your papes into de mud gutter.” “So he and the young fellow I kicked out have gone into partnership, have they?” “T guess so. Anyhow, I seén him an Slabsey talkin’ together yes’day, an’ den dey went off together, and afterwards Slabsey come down alone and went-over de bridge to Brooklyn. He rode, too; he did- n’t hoof it. He don’t live in Brooklyn. He got a cigar, after, an’ put on a lot o’ lugs smokin’ it. He didn’t sell no papes all de afternoon, an’ I guess he muster been staked by de young feller.” “He went to Brooklyn, you say? was this?” “When it was gettin’ dark. o'clock, I guess.” “And when did he go off with the young man?” “Oh, that was oily, ‘bout de time de foist editions was comin’ out. Dey went down Park Row, toward de elevator cars.” “Did you ever see him talking to Slab- sey before?” “Nope; an’ he seemed ter be sizin’ up de boys before he spoke to him.” “Picking out one bad enough to do his dirty work,” muttered Gil. “I was right about the boy being in it. He took the letter to Brooklyn and mailed it.” “Say,” said Maggie, “has de young swell anyting dirty to youse? ’Cause if he has de boys’ll do him up.” “Not to me, altogether, but to a friend of mine;* answered Gil. “Never mind doing anything to Slabsey yet. I may have a use for him.” “All right; but if youse say de woid de boys’ll fix him.” o “No, not yet,” said Gil, having made new plans since seeing Maggie. “T want to see him myself first.” - Then he returned to the office and worked till noon, having an idea that he would not be able to see Slabsey before that time. . Crossing the park, he found Maggie, who said: “Say, I guess Slabsey was pooty well fix- ed. He’s been smokin’ cigars all de morn- When "Bout five 1 in’ an’ now he’s gone to de cellar restau- rant down on de corner o’ Beekman street, You see, itsis typewritten. Then. | we seen de goil an’ de kid walkin’ layin’ coffee on de side. money.” “All right,” said Gil, and he went to the beef and beans underground restaurant, descended the steps, and saw the newsboy in a corner regaling himself. The boy did not see him until-he took a seat opposite, and then he was starting up in alarm when Gil said: “Sit down, Maguire. I am not going to hurt you. Ill pay for your lunch. I want to talk business.” be “And you won’t slug me?” “No. ” “Mag said she’d tell de fellers ter pitch into me all ter wanst fer what I done before.” “Well, she won't. Now, what did you have to do with stealing that child yes- terday afternoon?” Slabsey. flushed, and then answered dog- gedly: “Didn’t have notin’ ter do wit it; didn’t know she was stole.” “Didn’t you mail a letter in Brooklyn for the young fellow that took you up- town and gave you money?” “Yair; but I didn’t have notin’ ter do wit stealin’ de kid, on’y ter tell de goil dat I seen her go off wit a guy de wrong way. 9 “Now, see here, Maguire,” said Gil, “if you'll tell me all about it I won’t have in a feed o’ beef and, with pie an’ -Gee! but he’s spendin’ you arrested, and Ill get you a new suits of clothes,” “Youse won’t have me pinched?” SN QL? “And youse won’t slug me?” “No. 2 “What youse want me to.do?” “J want you to tell the truth. If you do J’ll buy you a suit of clothes. If you don’t Pll tell all the boys to pound you, and then I’]l have you sent up besides. Now, tell me how this thing happened.” “Youse’ll gimme a suit 0’ clothes?” Sock" “An? lemme go?” Sue “An’ youse won’t gimme a lickin’?” “No, 99 “Well, me an’ de young feller went up- town on de elevator and he teld me what ter do. Den we hung around, an’ at last on de avenyer, an’ we come up closer. De goil stopped ter look at de winders, and I got next ter her and shoved de kid out o’ de way,” \ : “De goil kep’ lookin’ in de winder an’ I shoved her along while de young feller went off wit de kid. Den bimeby de goil ‘looked around an’ axed where de kid was, an’ made a lot o’. screechin’ an’ flaxin’ about like she was off her head. “Den I come up an’ axed her wot was de matter, an’ she sayed she’d lost de kid, an’ den I axed. her wot kind of a kid it was, an’ a lot o’ guff, ter give de young feller time ter get away wit’ de kid and at las’ I give her de wrong steer an’ purtended ter go wit’ her, but ’stead o’ dat I give her de slip an’ come downtown.” “Then you went over to Brooklyn and mailed the letter?” ‘ 66 Yair. bbs “And you did not see him again?” “Nope. 2 “Do you know where he was boing to take de child?” “Nop e. bb haa this was all you had to do with the business?” “Dat’s all,” “How much did you get?” “Two plunks.” “Two dollars?” “Yair; dat’s what I-got.” “How was he going to take the child away?” “I dunno. He mighter had a carriage, but I dunno, and I dunno where he went. He sayed he was goin’ ter play a joke on de kid’s folks, an’ purtend ter run off wit her. Say, youse can’t pinch me fur dat, kin youse?” “Well, we won’t, anyhow, but if you don’t behave yourself after this we’ll have you locked up. Finished your lunch? Well, then, come on and I’ll get you the suit of clothes. oe Gil bought a chéap suit of ready-made clothes, which Slabsey considered very ele- gant, and had the old suit made up in a bundle, which he took away. — “Sa-ay, youse is all right,” said Siabuey. “an’ I won’t bother youse any more if youse wanter sell papes, an’ I won’t touch Mag nor de little fellers—wishermaydie if T do:” “That’s all right,” said Gil. “See that you behave yourself after this, or you’ll get sent away to the reformatory just as sure as I’m standing here talking to you.” The boy had told Gil considerable, but there was still a good deal more to be learned. Hall evidently did not believe in trusting his ally toe,far, and the messenger who was to meet Gil in the waiting-room was | either himself or someone whom he would bring into the affair later. That the child had been taken to Jersey City Gil was still certain, for however he reasoned. he returned to the conviction that this was the most likely place to} take her, ‘because the most convenient, Pe and eine he determined to make his search, Then he went 5 his old place, saw Co- hen, told. him what had happened, and what he was going to do, and asked: “Do you think you would know young ~ Hall again if you saw him?” “T think so. I have a pretty good mem- ory. for faces.” “I want you to go over to Jersey City at six e’clock and stay in and around the Pennsylvania room. Don’t notice me un- less I speak to you, or you have seen Hall. i think between us we will be able to land him and recover the child.” é “I’m sure we will, and I’ll help you all. Cans “Thats all towant.” CHAPTER - X1X. IN THE WAITING-ROOM. If any of Slabsey Maguire’s New York friends had been over in Jersey City that — evening they would have been ready to — declare that they saw him, while at the same time the’ boys around the City Hall ~ in New York would have been just as positive that he was there. : Slabsey could not certainly. be in two places, nor was he, for the Jersey City Slabsey was Gil, dressed in the newsboy’s cast-off clothes, and imitating his walk and general appearance to the life. He walked through the back streets, loitered around the ferry entrance, hung about the annex slip, and strolled up Mont- gomery street, keeping his eyes open, watching for the first appearance of either Hall or little Cissy. He wandered into back alleys, looked up at windows, noticed all who went in or came out, and now and then went back to the station at intervals of from twenty minutes to half an hour. In one of these excursions he ran against Cohen, who was wandering aimlessly about the room, as if awaiting a train, and said: “Seen anything yet?” “No; nothing.” “Well, keep a lookout. Tt isn’t seven o’cloek yet.” . Gil then went out on the street again, and hung about the doors of two or three commercial hotels within a short distance of the ferry, thinking that perhaps Hall may have chosen one of these as a hiding place for the child. At seven o’clock he had seen nothing to arouse his suspicions, and yet he felt con- vinced that he had not made a mistake, and that the child was in Jersey City, and that before long he would See young Hall or his messenger, : As the hands on the big Glock in the waiting-room pointed to seven Gil noticed a tall, rather Shabbily dressed man wear- ing a high silk hat, but carrying no bag- gage, come into the place, and begin to look anxiously about, as if looking for. someone, going up one aisle and down the next, looking at this person and that, seeming about to speak to one or another. Gil watched him, and passed him once as he was going his rounds, but received no attention, “I wouldn’t wonder if that were the mes- senger,” he mused. “He seems to have something on his mind. I'll watch him a - little more, and see if I can get near enough to hear him speak to someone. There are lots of young men who would answer to my general description, and he mmay mistake someone else for*me, I don’t think Hall will show himself.” Gil presently got nearer to the tall man in the shabby clothes, and silk hat, and — in a few minutes saw him approach a young man who had just entered the room, and gave an anxious look at the big clock, Gil approached near enough to hear the shabby man ask: “Have you got the price?” — “Have I’ got the price?” the young man repeated. “The price of a drink, do you mean? Yes, I have, but you don’t get it, What do you take me for, an easy one? Welt ain t:2 “Oh, excuse me, brought the price?” “What price? What’s all your chin- ning about, anyhow?. Are you all there, or aren’t you a little empty. in the Monee Tate Just then the dispateher Sh Butea 5 “Train for Elizabeth, Rahway, New Brunswick, and Trenton, all aboard!” “Tra-la, that’s me,” said the young fel- low, and away he went at a quick pace. “That's the man,” thought “Gil. “He isn’t used to this business. Now to see how long he will wait if he doesn’t find the one he wants. Perhaps Hall. will grow impatient and come to look over the ground himself.” The shabby man did not speak to any- one else, but he wandered about as before, and looked sharply at all the newcomers, as if trying to fix the right one, Gil managed to see Cohen in the smok- — ing-room, and said: eT have seen. the messenger. He looks” anxious. I will brush against him pres- ently so that you will know him.” “Do you think he will give it up?” — “I den’t know. “We will wait and_ see. I mean have’ you DAYS. If he goes out we must follow him. He may communicate with Hall. If you see him leave, follow him, and report to me se at ‘possible. “ i “Boat after boat came in, train after train. departed or came in, ‘and at times the waiting-room would be well- nigh de- ~ gerted, “Finally, at eight o’clock, there being very few persons in the place at the time, Gil saw the shabby man walk toward the street entrance and disappear. ‘He quickly attracted Cohen’s attention, and the two followed the man, observing him a few steps in advance when they reached the street. He walked up Montgomery street for a block or so, and Gil thought he was going to enter a hotel, but he presently turned a corner and then another, walking rapidly, and finally reaching a short, quiet little street where it seemed as if everybody had gone to bed. He presently went up the low stoop of a little two-story house, and as he did so the door opened, and someone asked: “Well, did you find him? gone long enough.” Gil was close enough to hear the voice and see the face of the speaker as the light fell on it, He recognized both as belonging to Har- ry Hall. “No, he wasn’t there,” he heard the man say, as he slouched past the house. “Well, come in, and we'll see about it, ” and then the door was closed. He took a note of the house, counted the number from the corner, and observed one or two little peculiarities which would help him to remember it, and then passed on and joined Cohen on the opposite side of the street. “He’s over there in the little two-story house, the middle one,” said Gil. “I saw and heard him. We've located him all right, and now the next thing is to decide what to do.” “What would you advise?” “Going over.there at once, using a little stratagem, putting on a bold front, and ._ demanding the restoration of the child im- mediately. ” “That's all right,” said Cohen, “and l’ll help you. I’ve come prepared for a scrap.” . “What do you mean?” “That I have a pistol, and if necessary can use it. I think, however, that the sight. of it will be sufficient for all prac- tical purposes.” “Vd rather you wouldn’t use it. The noise would attract a crowd, and we want to get through with this business as quiet- ly as possible.” “Well, I don’t think I’ll have to.” “Come ahead,” said Gil. “You go down and [ll go up. Cross when' [I do, and be close to me when they open the door.” In a few moments Gil ascended the low stoop and rang the bell. ‘CHAPTER XX. THE LOST ONE FOUND. In a minute or two the door was opened by the shabby man, who still wore his black silk hat, as though he had been too i occupied since his arrival to take it 0 P. 7 - As the door was opened Gil thrust in his foot and said huskily: ° “Sa-ay, tell de young feller I wants ter see him bad.” - “What young fellow?” asked the shabby man. “I don’t know you. Who are you?” .“Slabsey, dat’s who I am. Slabsey Ma- guire. You tell de young feller dat I want ter see him bad, an’ dat I’m a-goin’ ter— see?” Hall had evidently been listening at the top of the stairs, for he now called down: “Is that you, Slabsey ?” “Yair, it’s me,” and Gil pushed his way inside, : _ “What’s the row? How did you find me? What do you want?” Hall fired one question after another with great rapidity, coming a step or twe downstairs as he did so. _ Gil held his head down, and Hall recog- ~ nized only the rough hat and thc ragged clothes belonging to the newsboy. -“De. young feller has got youse spotted, an’ he’s comin’ over here ter git de little goil,” Gil announced, in an excellent imita- tion of Slabsey’s manner. ~ If there were any defect in it Hall did not notice it, for he cried excitedly: “The deuce he is! How did he know about it? Did you teli him?” “He got onto it all right, an’ youse had better skip. Kin I come up?” “Yes,” answered Hall, but Gil had al- ready started up the stairs, three steps at a bound, The shabby man tried to shut the door, but Cohen quickly pushed his way in, _closed it, and said in a low tone, present- ing a pistol at the other’s head: “Don’t make any noise, or Ill blow the top of your head off!” “Don’t do it!” gasped the shabby man, staggering back against the wall. there’d be trouble. Don’t ‘shoot, and a tell ce Mecsuee business.” Vee ¥ You’ve been | ‘room or so. “T knew | Meantime Gil had reached: the landing above, Hall leading the way to the front room, which was dimly lighted and shab- bily furnished. “You say that Gil Clinton is coming over here?” asked Hal. “Yes, and here he is!” cried Gil, toss- ing off his rough cap. “Now, Harry Hall, I’ve come to reckon with you.” At that instant there was a cry from an inner room, and then a pounding on the door. “Gilbert!” cried the voice of a child; “here I am, Gilbert, come take me away.” “How did you find me?” muttered Hall. “That boy could not have betrayed me, for he didn’t know.” “You betrayed yourself by your own clumsiness,” said Gil. “The letter mailed in Brooklyn, the hiring of a boy so near to my office, the selection of a messenger, the~ whole business was clumsy.” “Gilbert!” cried the child again. and take Me away.” “Open that door!” said Gil. “Suppose I don’t?” drawled the other. “Then I will open it myself,” and Gil picked up a heavy chair. “Stop! I will open it myself. brought the police, I suppose?” “Open the door! ” Hall took a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door between the two rooms. In an instant Cissy Horton flew out, rushed to Gil, threw her arms about him, and covered him with kisses. At the same time Hal sprang into the other room, shut and locked the door, and ran down a back staircase just as Cohen and the shabby man were coming up the front way. | “Don’t let him go!” cried fhe shabby man. “If I’m arrested, he’s got to be, too, He’s had more to do with it than I have.” Gil now came out with Cissy and said: “T’ve got her, Cohen; it’s all right.” “Very well. I knew it would be once we got in. ” He and the shabby man came up, and then the latter suddenly made a dive for the back stairs. In another instant they heard him go rolling and tumbling down, and uttering frightened cries. “That’s all right,” said Gir. “We won’t go aiter them. It’s good enough as it is. Harry Hall won’t bother us. He isn’t anx- ious to serve a term in State’s prison for abduction, and the other fellow, whoever he is, is no more anxious than he is.” ' They hurriedly left the house, taking Cissy between them, Gil taking off his rough overcoat and covering her with it. On the boat over to Twenty-Third street, Gil having already telephoned to Jack Hor- ton that he had found Cissy and was bring- ing her home, Cohen said. “The shabby fellow who acted as Hall’s messenger confessed that he is his second cousin. He lives in the house and keeps bachelor’s hall; and now and then rents a Halli has been living with him lately, and got him to go into this thing with him.” “Didn’t he realize the risk?” “He thought there would be none, If you had paid the money he would have taken Cissy to the door of the waiting- room, and would have then decamped. Halil was ready to leave by a train for the West, and this man would have closed the house and kept shady until it was safe to return.” “Hall will probably go away as it is, but without the money he expected to have. By the way, did your shabby man say any- thing about certain information that L was ta receive?” “No, not a word,” “Did Mr. Hall give you anything to give to me, Cissy?” asked Gil. “No, he didn’t, and he’s real mean. The other ‘day, when he took me away he said he was going to take me to see you, and that you had a new dolly and some candy and a lot of nice things.to give me, but he didn’t give me any of them, and he didn’t take me to see you at all, but just took me to that horrid house where things were not a bit fashionable, and just kept me there.” “How did you go there?” “In a cab. It wasn’t a nice carriage at all; it was just a cab, and it didn’t smell nice, and [ went to sleep, and didn’t know anything till [ woke up in that horrid place, smelling fried fish and all sorts of unpleasant things. Then I had to go to bed alone, and didn’t have a nurse nor a maid nor anything, and in the morning [ had to wash my face in cold water, and I don’t like it at all.” Gil laughed and said: “Then ~you didn’t have a hice time there?” “No, I didn’t, and [ think Harry Hall is just horrid. He kept saying that he was going to take me to see you, but he didn’t, and every little while he would wipe my nose, and then [I would go to sleep right away. I never knew that it made you go to sleep to wipe your nose. Does it?” “Chloroform,” muttered Gil. “That was so that she wouldn’t cry and alarm peo- ple,’ “Yes but he never seemed to think of “Come You have the injury it might do her.” “Then they didn’t hurt you?” asked Gil, “NG, they didn't hurt me, but ae Hept “me shut up, and I couldn’t see any people Cohen? & going by, or any horses and carriages and automobiles or anything, and it was just stupid. I never was gladder for anything than I was when I heard you talking to Harry Hall. But what makes you wear such old clothes? They are not the least bit becoming.” «= “Well, if I. hadn’t had them I couldn’t have got you away,” laughed Gil, “Oh, then it doesn’t matter so much,” answered Cissy, primly, and both the young men laughed, and the child laughed with them for very joy at being free. CHAPTER XXII. A SURPRISING ENCOUNTER. It was a royal welcome that Gil and Co- hen received when they. arrived at» the Horton house; Jack was expecting tere and oe was not far away when they : arrived. “Why, it’s Gil!” he cried. “And Cissy! Gil, old chap, you’re a brick. Is this Mr. Pleased to meet you, sir. Come right in. Hallo, pop, mom, here they are, come back!” Mrs. Horton kissed Gil as well as Cissy, shook hands with Cohen, and was hysteri- cally happy, while Mr, Horton shook hands with Gil and his friend, and: said: “You're always putting me under ob- ligations, my boy. It was really a most fortunate thing for me that I made your acquaintance.” “T can say the same thing for myself,” laughed Gil. “I had very few friends be- fore I met you, and now [I seem to have no end of them.” They all sat down to supper in the. din- ing-room, although Gil wanted to go home and change) his: clothes first. Jack would not hear to it, however, and said: MNO. sik: you just. keep on your old duds. You wouldn't be half a hero if you wore a swallow-tail and a swell front shirt, so just“ keep still and enjoy yourself. We are not expecting company, and you look just right.” Cissy fell asleep during the meal, and -was carried off to bed, and then Mrs. Hor- ton excused herself, and the rest sat in the library, Mr. Horton smoking and sip- ping his wine, and evidently thinking of - something. ~ “Mr, Cohen,” he said at length, “I have heard considerable about you both from Gilbert and Mr. Wiseman, and I am sgatis- fied that you are just- the man I want. I- can give you the charge of a ledger in our office at a salary considerably larger than you are now getting, if you will consider It. “I shall be glad to do so, sir,” said Coh- en. “It seems to me that every time Clin- ton does anything I profit by it. me his friend, but I think he is more mine than I am his.” “Don’t Iet Cohen underrate himself,” said Gil. “He helped me wonderfully to- night, and | don’t know how [ could have got along without his assistance.” “Then we'll consider it settled,” said Mr. Horton. “Come around and see me at eleven oO’clock to-morrow morning, and we'll go more into details.” The next day Gil went across the park and soon found Slabsey, looking much more respectable than before, and selling papers, “See here, Maguire,” he said, “I don’t think you would be such a bad sort of fel- low if you made an effort to behave your- self, and I think I’ll give you a chance.” “You're de fust feller ever said dat to me,” returned the other, looking confused. s De most o’ dem said I’d orter get sent up, dat [ was no good, an’ dat de best ting dat could happen to me was ter die before I got sent to de chair.” “About this business the other day,” continued Gil. “I think you were made a tool of, and that you did not quite realize what you were’ doing; but it has turned out all right, and so we will ee 00 more about it.” “Did yer find de kid?” “Yes, and took her home,” “An’ did yer nail de oder chap?” “No; he got away, and I don’t think he will trouble us again. It is too serious a fe and he is probably far away by this ime.” “And yer won’t do notin’ ter me?” “No, for you really gave me valuable assistance, and, as I. say, did not realize what you were doing. Now, oe! would you like to do most?” “Well, £ didn’t useter tink I didn’t care about it, but I guess now I’d like ter go ter school, my “Very well; but what else?” . “Well, den I’d like ter be a soger an’ ride a horse. [ like horses, and when I ain’t doin’ notin’, [ hang around de fire-ingine houses an’ de stables, an’ sometimes I gets a chanst to rub ’em down an’ fix ’em up an’. give ’em a walk or a run.” “And you like that sort of work?” “Betcher life I do. You ast any o’ the men around de Hage ene house over in| de park.” i well, then, we oe Bot you a ‘place He ealls } in a stable, and you can go to school at night.” “Say, mister, ” said Slabsey, ‘wiping. his” eyes, “nobody ever made me feel so mean in me life, If you was ter kick me. or knock me down, I ,wouldn’t feel half so bad, but ter turn around an’ gimme a chanst to be somebody, well—well, I didn’ hie expect it, dat’s all.” “That's all right, Maguire,” : said Gil. : “When you sell your papers; come across ~ the street to my office. Maggie will show. you where it is.” i eee “All right, sir,” said Slabsey. “Just gim-. me a chanst ter get over dis, dat’s all. Be come, all right:” : Later Slabsey, or Daniel Maguire, as he — was to be called thenceforth, went over to see Gil, who introduced him to Mr. Horton. The gentleman sent him with a note to. his coachman, the latter being. instructed ~ to see what he knew about horses, and to take him in charge with the idea of even- | tually making a good groom of him.. Thomas reported: that Maguire knew ~ considerable, that horses seemed to take ~ to him, and that he certainly took to horses, and from that time he was regular- ly at work in Mr. Horton’s stable, and meat to schoo] at night, Time passed, the holidays were over, a new year had come in, and Gil was- as happy and contented as-ever, with the ex- a ception that there was still that cloud upon — his father’s name, with no prospect Of ‘lifting it. Wyatt had been advertised for without - success. Harry Hall had disappeared, and there seemed to be no way of getting at the truth, Gil being still firm in the belief that a great injustice had been done his — father, and that some day he would be ‘de- clared absolutely. innocent. a He gained new friends every day, ‘his position was one of responsibility and trust, and he was daily showing more and S more ability, but he could not be entirely — happy while that one cloud rested on him, © and it made him more grave and. serious every day. One day it happened that he was obliged _ to call on Mr. Titterton on some matter of — business, the man not appearing in the : very best light in the affair. In fact, he was accused of being more — than sharp, but had not transgressed any — law except that of fair dealing, “You’re young Clinton, aren’t you?” he : asked. oc Yes. ” “H’m! did you find anybody to trust you after what happened a couple of years ago?” “T did; but that has nothing to do with _ the present business.” “Well, you tell Horton to come and. see me himself.” sy “I am Mr. Horton’s secretary, and——” “Tt don’t make any difference. I’m not going to bother with a young man whose “You can spare any further insults, sir,” said Gil. “I refuse to have any further © dealings with you,” and he turned and left the Office, when, upon reaching the street, he came suddenly’ face to face with — a man whose resemblance to his father was. positively startling. ge aa (TO BE CONTINUED) peer ctor meson EGE ane net mercenaria ew See A recent European invention that now is being brought to the attention of mu- niciple authorities is an automobile street sweeping. and watering machine. This de- vice, which has been tried in Paris with some success, consists of a large auto- mobile truck fitted with a tank having a eapacity of 470 gallons of water. There is a twelve-horse-power motor, which can use as fuel either gasoline, kerosene, or alcohol, and to which by bevel gearing is connected a rotary brush fixed diagonally across the frame of the vehicle. In front. of this brush it is possible to discharge a variable amount of water to lay the dust, which is then swept to one side, while there are two discharge pipes at the rear pierced with fine holes, from which water may be sprayed over a width of street of twenty feet. plish as much as six street-cleaners and several horse water carts, and itS use in- volves a considerable saving in labor. O