A woman in the case
page: 0Illustration (TitlePage) [View Page 0Illustration (TitlePage) ]ALBJJRTyfpe, i. BIERSTADT, NCW YORke A WOMAN IN THE CASE. - BY MSS BESSIE TURNER. "I do but beg a little changeling boy."--Shakspcare. NEW YORK: G. W. Carleton; a, -Co., Publis/krs.: LONDON: -LOW, SON & CO. MDCCCLXXV. . page: 0[View Page 0] COPYRIGHT, 1875, BY G. W. CARLETON & CO. JOHN F. TROW & SON, PRINTERS AND STEREOTYERS, 205-213 East 12M St., NEW YORK. PREFACE. SOME books are written to sell; others to illustrate a principle. I shall have attained both objects, if this little work meets with popular favor. I believe in individual freedom of writing and buying. I have written for -my own pleasure and profit. - If the public purchase for the same reasons, both parties-will be satisfied. My story is founded on fact, but I think it will be conceded that it is " stranger than fiction." If curious people expect to find anything in it bear- ing directly or indirectly on the great " trial," in the- elucidation of which I was necessarily made a witness, I am happy to know they will be'disappointed. It may, however, be some consolation for them to learn that had it not been for that misfortune, it would be possible for me to earn an honest living in a less public way than this. As it is, I have chosen a path which I hope will lead to profit and favor. RB T. NEW YORK, October, I875. page: 0 (Table of Contents) [View Page 0 (Table of Contents) ] CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. The Russells ... . ....................................................... 9 CHAPTER II. A Woman in the Case....................... .... ................. 16 CHAPTER III. He Asks. She AnsWers ............................. ............... 22 CHAPTER IV. Ten Years Later. A Summons ....................................... 27 CHAPTER V. The Boy! Oh Where Was He? ...... ........................... 31 CHAPTER VI. Short and Bitter.............................................. ...... 36 CHAPTER VII. Love Melteth Even Pride ............................................ 37 CHAPTER VIII. Till Death Doth Them Part .......................................... 43 CHAPTER IX; Twenty Years After........................................ a........ 47 CHAPTER X. He and She ...... . ........... ... ............ 53 CHAPTER XI. Some Strange Developments. ...................................... 58 CHAPTER XII. The Snake in the Grass .............................................. 7X CHAPTER XIII. A Terrible Temptation ............................................... 80 CHAPTER XIV. Fire! Fire! Fire!.......... '......... .... .........,... . 86 CHAPTER XV: ' Trouble in the Household.... ................................... 92 CHAPTER XVI. What Next? The Programme .......................,............... o102 CHAPTER XVIL The Scene Shifts. The Tempter at W6rk........ .................... 107 CHAPTER XVIII. Templeton'"sStory .................................................. 3 4 page: 8 (Table of Contents) -9[View Page 8 (Table of Contents) -9] 8 . CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIX. One-Eyed Charley at Home........................... ....... I2 CHAPTER XX. , . She Waited Patiently ...................................... 26 CHAPTER XXI. John Hardy's Story., A Sudden Stop. ........................... 131 CHAPTER XXII. The Miller and his Man ............................................. . 142 CHAPTER XXIII. Robert Delaney, Clergyman, appears................................. 153 CHAPTER XXIV. Miller oes to Church. A Toe for a 'oe ... ........................... 159 CHAPTER XXV. Maud/Russell as Florence Nightingale .............................. 73 [CHA]TER XXVI. On the Track at Last .......................... ................. 18 CHAPTER XXVEII. Bill, Bob, and Harry ... ........... ................. 188 CHAPTER XXVIII. The Snake and Mary Miller ......................................... 198 CHAPTERl' XXIX. On the Rocks.... ................................................... 2o4 CHAPTER XXX. o Miller dqes some Talking. ................... .......... 26 : ' CHAPTER XXXI. Beware, Poor Girl, Beware ......................... ............... 224 CHAPTER XXXII. Forewarned, Forearmed ............................................ 23 CHAPTER XXXIII. Two Playing at the Same Game ...................................... 236 CHAPTER XXXIV? A Soft Answer Turns Away Wrath ............................... 24.47 CHAPTER XXXV. The Surprisers Surprised .......... .................................. 253 CHAPTER XXXVI. Walking Down-Broadway ................... ........................ 258 CHAPTER XXXVII. John and Maud ......... . .......................... 269 CHAPTER XXXVIII. At Last, at Last ............................................... 274 CHAPTER XXIX. There's no Place Like Home .... .... ....................... ........ 287 f q............................................,% * A WOMtAN IN THE CLASE. CHAPTER I. THE RUSSELLS. "I TELL you, mother dear, I love her with all my heart, and marry hfer I will."' So spoke-Horace Russell, as, with his arm about his mother's:ne , he looked at the retreating form of Jenny Marvin, is sweetheart and intended bride; Born in a manufacturing village of England, and reared in the immense establishment of which his father-was the founder and-proprietor, Horace Rus- sell was as fine a specimen of the better grade of the ' English middle class as one would care to see. He had barely turned his twenty-third year, stood six feet in his stockings, carried himself with the. air of a hun- page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 THE' RUSSELLS. ter, and was noted, at oall the fairs, as the best jumper wrestler, boater and marksman in the county. His early years had been spent in acquiring the ruder elements of education; but his head was bent on mechanics, and'his delight was to go to the factory, watch the machinery, learn of the men the why and the wherefore, and perfect himself in all that pertained to his father's affairs. At the age of eighteen, at the 'urgent request of Horace, :Mr. Russell, senior, put him at work, and on his twenty-first birthday the young man was hailed as foreman of the works. The, Russell family was of humble origin, self re- specting, frugal, and well-to-do. Joseph Russell came of virtuous stock, and looked upon merry-making as a sin. Nevertheless, he married young- and, at the period of which we write, was the contented husband of a devoted wife, and the happy father of two sons, Horace and Harry, the latter a cripple. In the fac- tory and at home the will of Joseph Russell was law. The wife, as good a soul as ever breathed, trembled at the Past exhibition of impatience by Horace, who had a high temper, and shrank with -apprehension at every elevation of tone, lest it might be the beginning of an unknown end to be avoided and dreaded. Harry was a cripple from his birth; he was intelli- gent, quick-witted, sagacious and kind. Books were his refuge, and study his delight. Between the ten- der-hearfed mother, the sturdy Horace and the pale- * a ' , THE RUSSELLS& II featured Harry, were bonds of sympathy to which Joseph, who was brusque in manner and rude ot speech, was an utter stranger. And yet, Joseph loved his wife and loved his sons. Of Harry's proficiency at school he was very proud, and whatever the young man desired, was readily granted, at whatever cost; while in the tact and mar- vellous intuition of Horace, the honest manufacturer found not only pleasure but profit. Twenty-three years had passed, and aside from the little misunderstandings incident to well-regulated families, nothing had happened to mar the home-har- mony, or jar the sense of love till now; but-ow it had come; And this was it. Jennie Marvin worked in the factory. Pretty? l She was beautiful in the eyes of all who saw her, but to Horace she was the incarnation of all that is good and sweet, and true and pure. Her parents were very poor while living; so much so, that in sunshine and in rain, Jennie was compelled to walk daily to the factory, that 'the small wages she received might eke out the pittance gathered here and there by a willing but a shiftless father. Fever deprived Jennie of her father, and /consumption, tantalizingly cruel in its grasp, threatened for' months the life of the mother, upon whose blessings Jennie lingered long and wistfully after death had closed the poor woman's eyes, leaving * page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] - 2 - 'RI7E.4 RUSSELLS. the orphaned girl of eighteen to fight for bread as best she could. A pretty picture was the dainty girl, as turning through the stile, dressed in modest garb, she blush- ingly acknowledged the foreman's kindly greeting, and hastily passed to her section. They had known each other from infancy, and with the crippled brother had sat upon the same forms, played the same pranks, suffetled the same punishments, and' shared each other's lunch. As years rolled along, the exactions of domestic drudgery kept Jennie at home, the studies of Harry req d his attention at the acad- emy, and Horace's loy of his father's work sent him to the factory, so that ave gliipse now and then at church, an occasionakfeeti gn tfie street, or, per- cha , a dance at the county fair,-the three rarely met. I the course of time, however, 'Jennie sought and Obtained employment at the mill, and from that ime on, her daily presence revealed to, Horace the charms of head and heart which later led him to the step which eventually changed the course of his life, and brought, about a collision from which he would willingly have shrunk. Between Horace and Harry there were no0 secrets. The boys loved each other. In the heat of summer Horace protected Harry, and in the winter he shielded him from the blast. Whatever the one lacked in physical requirements, the other more than supple- THE R USSELLS. 13 mented. Play and interplay was the habit of their lives. Horace rejoiced in-Harry's successes at the academy, and when the elder disclosed in the secresy of their chamber an invention with which he hoped to surprise and profit their father, the delight-of the one far eclipsed the hopefulness of the other. And be- tween the boys and their mother, too, was a most delightful sympathy. To her they confided the troubles of their boyhood, .to her they told the embarrassments of maturer years. She, mother-like, was full of consid- eration, of kindness, of sympathy. She concealed their faults, made peace with their father, aided and abetted them in all their schemes, and did as all good mothers do, oiled the machinery of home, so that there was but little friction and not a bit of flame. - And yet, although Horace had told his mother every trouble he had ever experienced, every annoyance of his life, every purpose and ambition of his heart, when he discovered his love for Jennie Marvin he said noth- ing to her-but told it all to Harry. They both jumped to one conclusion. They both knew the opposition to come from their father. And when Horace said to Harry "if I can gain her consent to-night, I shall do it," they both felt it was the entering wedge of serious trouble in the family. Now Joseph Russell was by no manner of means a bad hearted man. On the contrary he was as honest page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] I4 .H EE RUSSELLS. and true as steel. He paid his debts, went to church, had family prayers, spoke kindly of his neighbors, dealt generously with his people, and was reputed one of the most straighluorward men in the county--but he had a weakness. . He wanted -to leave his sons one grade higher on the social scale than he was himself, Nothing, that money could do was grudged in Harry's education. Nothing that time and patience, and industry and zeal could accomplish, was withheld in his pursuit of wealth for the elevation of his son and heir. In his eyes the marriage of his son with ,one of his factory hands would be a step backward, which the boys well knew he would never for a moment sanction. Harry and his mother canvassed the matter time and time again while Horace and his father were at their work, but the way seemed darker: the smore they searched for light. Harry was fond of the girl; she hadl always been kind and considerate of him when they were children, and Seven if there were no other bond, the fact that Horace loved her, made Jennie sacred and loveable in his eyes. To his mother Harry recounted all the tender things Horace had told him about Jennie, and after-much persuasion induced her C- to agree with him, that after all it was the happiness of Horace they were bound to consider, and further to pledge her influence with her husband, in favor of THE RUSSELLS. 15 the union; or at all events the engagement. With a light heart Horace heard Harry's report one pleasant summer night, and he determined that not another dav should pass before he disclosed hislove to Jennie, and received by word of mouth her acceptance of his hand. page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] CHAPTER II. A WOMAN IN THE CASE. 'jR. Russell's great factory gave constant em- ployment to three hundred men and wo- - f en during the busy season, and by a sys- tem of gradation-payments furnished them all a com- fortable living the entire year. Very naturally the master of so many people was the great man of the town, and his influence was acknowledged and sought by the neighboring gentry and magnates of the county. Always a self-willed and imperious man, Joseph Rus- . sell became in time- little better than a conscien- tious tyrant, exacting from everyone a full measure of work, and giving with equal fairness a full measure of pay. At home he was never genial, but never morose. He was making money, his wife was anxious to please, and his children were reputable and industrious and obedient. He knew that Harry's infirmity would hecessitate a life of ease, and for that he was pre- pared. To Horace he looked for aid in business, and after several years of trial. concluded to make hirm a partner, establish him in a home, and gradually A WOMAN IN THE. CASE. I7 leave to him thee entire management of his affairs. " He talked freely with his wife of his plans, and an- nounced to her that on Horace's next birthday he should hand to him the papers of partnership, give a grand holiday-party to the hands, and make his son in name, what he had been for some time in fact- the master of the mill. The good mother was delighted and imparted an added zest to her husband's pleasure by accepting his plan as perfect, and endo'rsing his idea as the best that could'be devised. At breakfast Mr. Russell said: "Horace, will you drive over to town with me this morning? I have busess'with Mr. Wilson, the lawyer, which may need your counsel." Horace, glad of an opportunity to tell his father of his love, cheerfully consented, and together they drove off, waving good-bye to the " housekeepers"- as they called Mrs. Russell and Harry-as they stood together on the broad stone in front of their pleasant home. The father was full of his project, and he meant to broach it that morning. The son was full of his- love, and he meant to tell it then and there. "Horace," said Mr. Russell, " you have been in the factory a long time, and are the best foreman I ever had. That's good. I'm gladof it, for I should page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] I8 A WOMAWN IN TiE CASE. hate to have my son behind: the rest. Your mother and I have been talking the matter over, and I have concluded to take you into the business, half-and-half --now don't speak-so that you can have your hand on the crank if anything should happen to me. And' that's what I'm taking you over tol town for." For a moment Horace looked at his father in blank astonishment. If an angel from Heaven had prom- ised him the desire of his heart, he wouldn't have been more delighted and surprised. Tears filled his eyes, and the warm blood flushed his cheeks, as he grasped his happy father by the hand, and thanked him with an iron grip which meant much more than words. Then in a moment he said: "Whatever you say, father, I will do, and thank you." "Well, well, that's all settled then," said Mr. Rus- sell. ' And now, Horace, you must get a wife-get a good wife. Get a wife like your mother, my boy, and life will be easier. Look at me. Look at home -everything bright as a guineas and round as a ball. By the way, Horace, our Member was saying the other day that-he would be pleased to have us call at his place. He has a fine family-two beautiful girls. Who knows what might happen, eh? But- bless me; what's the matter with the boy? Why don't you speak?' I believe-but no, nonsense, that's absurd; Horace, what are you thinking of?" A WOMAN IN THE CASE. I9 c, Well, father, there's no use in my trying to keep secret what must come out. I had determined to tell you all about it, anyhow, to-day. I was thinking oI the dearest girl on earth, father. You know her, you like her. So does mother, so does Harry. I wanted to tell you that although nothing final has passed be- tween us, I am in love with Jennie Marvin; and with your permission mean to make her my wife." If Horace had knocked his father out of the wagon he could not have shocked him more. Had he lost his senses? No, the bay team were making ten miles an hour over a lovely English road, the sunlight was dancing through the trees and across the meadow, the reins were in his hands, and Horace sat by his side, sturdy as an oak and gentle as a child. ",Conscience guide me!" said Mr. Russell, and then turning to his son, broke out in a perfect torrent of expostulation, censure, abuse and invective, until fairly white with rage he said: "Next Monday will be your birthday. I give you till then to decide. Forget this girl, strike hands with your father, and be a man. Adhere -to her, and I disinherit you, turn you off,-and don't you dare to darken my, door again. You know Ine. Now no more about it." "But, father," began Horace "I tell you no more abo ut it," rejoined his father. "Here we are at the post-office; mail this letter, page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 A WOMAN IN THE CASE. order these books for Harry, and let's get back as soon as we can. We won't see Mr. Wilson to-day, I'm in no mood for business." Horace did as he was bid; and together they drove homeward, unhappy, discontented, and utterly uncon- genial. As they entered the drive-way, Mrs. Russell met theiim near the gate, and in a momnent saw that there was trouble between them. "Why, what's the matter, father?" said she. "Ask Horace," was his reply; and without another word to either of thelm he turned his back and strode off to the n mill. As he did so, the sweet face of Jennie Marvin peeled out from a grqlpp of nurslings by the hedge, and a soft voice said: "Good morning, Mrs. Russell; good morning, Horace." There she was, the ca,use of the first serious misunderstanding between father and son; the simple-hearted, blue-eyed beauty for whom Horace would give his life with pleasure. "Why, how late you are, Jennid," said Horace. Q "Yes, I know it, Horace; but I was kept at wid w Harden's until after eight; she is very low, and I promised the Doctor I would care for her till some of the bother neighbors looked in. But I'm all right now, only I thought I'd give you a surprise, and catch you making love to your mother. Good-bye," said Jennies and off she went to her work. A WOMAN I TEE CASE. 21 And that's the girl you loveis it, Horace?" said Mrs. Rilssell. "Indeed it is," said he, "and I tell you, mother dear, I love her with all my heart; and marry her I will." ,. "He then told his mother all his father had said, He then told his mothr and, after begging her to intercede with her husband, mdy, after begging her toit ohrdaIav said:- "If the worst comes, other dear, I have of my own. We are both young and strong. ;6,200 of ily own. We oete e'lfght I'1l marry Jennie at once, and together well fight our way through life, bringing no discredit on the name, and perhaps be able sometime to repay the love and kindness you have alwaysshown me. So mother, dry your eyes; help me if you can-and if not, 'll help myself." 13* oft page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] CHAPTER III. HE ASKS: SHE ANSWERS. NOT a word was exchanged between Horace and his father all day. After tea, at night, the young man, who was as frank and honest in heart as- he ws noble and truthful in appearance, laid his hand upon his father's shoulder, and giving it a loving grip, said : "Father, I am going down to see Jennie. Let me take a kind word from you?" It was well meant, but the boy did not understand the man. Without changing his position, Joseph Russell said: ' You know my wish-obey it, and all's well; thwart it, and we are no more to each other forever." Mrs. Russell said nothing, though she looked un- utterable sympathy; but Harry, who loved his father, : mother, and brother as .one, rose hastily from the. table, and throwing himself full upon his father's breast, begged and implored him to be considerate, to wait, to hear what Horace proposed, and at all events to withdraw what seemed, to an over-sensitive ' nature, very much like a curse. \ M HE ASKS: SHE ANSWERS. 23 But it was useless. A stubborn man is harder to move than a mule, and Joseph Russell was precisely that. The end of it all was that the father pretended to read the county paper, his wife busied herself with tearful eyes about her domestic duties, Harry wept alone, full length upon his bed, and Horace went to see his love. Of course he went. He had told Jennie that afternoon, as she was leav- ing the mill, that he should see her in the evening, and as he had something to say to her, should wish her to take a walk with him by the side of the river. Quick as a flash Jennie saw, or rather felt-for women always feel situations long before they are ap- parent to men,--that something had gone wrong; but wisely saying nothing, she quickly put on her hat, and together they passed into the street. Ordinarily, Horace was tired with his day's work, and inclined to rest. He didn't object to being talked to, but he hated to answer questions. He was like a vast majority of the better grade of men who like the attentions and loving ways of women, but do not en- courage inquisitiveness, even if it be born of genuine interest. But on this occasion every nerve was alert, and every fibre on a quiver. He hurried Jennie along at a pace very much faster than a lover's lounge, until page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24 H ASKS: SHE A4rSWERS. they reached the bank of a beautiful stream, protect- ed by superb old trees, through whose leaves the bright beams of an August moon gleamed and glis- tened. Taking her head in his two hands, he turned up to the full gaze of his impassioned eyes, and the full light of the 'curious moon, one of the sweetest of faces. \ He didn't stop to kiss her. Without a caress, without/premonition of any kind," he spoke to her, and in such earnestness that she felt the gravity and sincerity of every word. "I know you love me, Jennie. You have told me so a thousand times and more. You love me devot- edly, and H-well, I love you well enough to make you my wife, and that's about as much as man can do. I leave my father. I go at once. I have .z200 in cash, my head, my hanand a constitution of J iron. I want from you an answer now; will you be my wife, will you join me hand to hand and go with me in search of home and fortune? Say yes. Don't mar it by a but, or an if, or a why. If you love me, say yes. Will you?" Throwing, her arms about his neck; and begining her face in the bosom of her lover, Jennie -answered, as he wished; but how, or in what language, is not given us to tell. The passion was'over, and after the natural inter- ., HE ASKS: SHE ANSWERS. 25 change of vows, assurances, and asseverations cus- tomary at such times, Horace told Jennie the whole story, and anticipated her objections and demurrals, by saying that he had written to Liverpool for infor- mation respecting the steamers, and that doubtless the whole affair, separation, marriage, and embarkation for New York, to which point he had concluded to go, would be consummated by the close of the follow- ing week. "And yet," said he, "I shall hate to leave mother, it will almost kill Harry, and how father and the mill will get on without me, is more than I can tell." But with an effort, he pushed away all the unpleas- ant features, turned to Jennie, his betrothed, kissed her again and again, and after leaving her at her door, started homeward at a rapid gait. At the gate he met his mother. "Why, mother, it's after ten o'clock; what aie you doing here?" "Waiting for you, darling," said she; " waiting for my first-born son. Can you not give up this love, dear Horace?" "Mother , " "But hear me, darling. Can you not wait?" "Mother, I love Jennie. 'She has promised to be my wife, and before a week is passed marry her I will." " "Heaven bless you, my son. Heaven bless you. Come what may your mother loves you,- trusts you, 2' page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 - HE ASKS: SHE ANSWERS. and will always pray for you and yours. Good-night, my boy. Remember he is your father. Speak gen- tly. It will do no harm, for he loves you very much and his disappointment is very great." They parted affectionately, as their custom was, and long hours passed before Horace reached his room, and throwing his arm over his beloved Harry, fell into a deep and restful sleep. CHAPTER IV. TEN YEARS LATER. A SUMMONS. f EN long years of hard work, disappointment, domestic comfort, bereavement, hope, anxi- - ety and struggle passed over the heads of Horace Russell apd his faithful wife. They had crossed the ocean, found a home in Michigan, buried a daughter, made a fortune, lost it in a fire, and grown mature in each others respect and love. Occasional letters from home had told of the grad- ual decline and death of the gentle mother; of the sudden paralysis and death of the loving Harry; of the princely wealth and hardening character of the father, and such lighter gossip as brings one's child- hood's home and days so vividly before the absent. With a- few thousand dollars laid away for a rainy day, Horace felt .that he was comfortable, but not content. His mind was active, but the necessity of daily occupation left him but little leisure for study ins his peculiar line. He knew that he had material in his mind, which if utilized, would make him rich and perhaps famous. But like Mary of old he hid all these page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] -28 TEN Y/iARS ZATER. A SUMMONS. things in his heart; and never- by look or word gave hint to Jennie of the unrest which was a canker to his life. On the I6th of August i854 he received a letter postmarked London. The handwriting was unfamiliar, and with some apprehension he opened it. THE LETTER. LONDON, August 2d, 1854. DEAR SIR,--A message from my old friend, the Rev- Mr. Marsh, received this morning, tells me that your dear father has not o1ng to live. When Iw occupied temporarily Mr. Marsh's pulpit, I had occasion to see much of Mr. Russell, and one evening he unbur- dened to me the secret of his life. He loves you., He longs once more to see you. And yet so stub- born was his pride, that he would not consent even that a message might be sent to you. Knowing as I do his critical condition, aware as I am of his fath- erly affection for the boy of his early manhood, the first-born of his 16ve, I have taken this liberty in your * common interest, and beg you to lay aside whatever your occupation may be, and come here that you may receive your father's blessing, and I greatly fear' to close your father's eyes. Pardon me, if in sending you the enclosed Bill for TEN YEARS LATER. A SUMMONS. 29 Eioo I offend, but not knowing your circumstances, I take the same liberty with you, that I would wish taken with my son, if his father were dying, and he an exile. With best wishes for your health, and earnestly begging you to come home at once, I am, yours most truly, JOHN HALL, Rector of St. fohn's. To HORACE RUSSELL, Milwaukee. EnclosediBill on Brown Bro's & Co. for i00oo. Jennie's round fair arm was encircling her hus- band's neck, and the little fat hands of Harry, their boy, were tearing the envelope at his feet. For a moment the tears refused to come, but only for a moment. Then rising to his feet, the noble fel- low said: "Jennie, love, see to the traps. I'll go down to the agent's-learn about the steamers, and be back in half an hour. For dearest, he is my father after all, you know; and if he had known you darling,-as Heaven grant he may even yet, we never should have left him." And off he went. Of course the 100oo were not needed. The next day Horace drew his money, paid his bills, placed, his affairs in' the hands of a lawyer, packed up, and started for New York. page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30aVBu z,4:. ,j o* },. , 'P-TNyAsAST;A - UM.'.y 'One week later hestood upon -the deck 0f a spb uarer-.-t e stood alone, crying like a babe. CHAPTER V. THE BOY, OH WHERE WAS HE? EI ERHAPS you think ment should never cry. Well, let us see. ( Three days before this, Horace, his wife, and little Harry reached the Astor House, and were shown one of the best rooms in the hotel. The next day was spent in necessary preparations for the voyage. ' The day preceding the day of sailing was equally occupied until about six o'clock, when Jennie, being utterly exhausted, threw herself on the bed to rest. Horace was weary, oo. But little Harry was cross. Of course he was. Two long days he had been left in the care of a chambermaid, who was kind and careless. He rolled a hoople through the halls till a call-boy stole it. He slid down the banisters until one of the guests com- plained at the office. He went into the dining-hall twenty times a day, and gorged himself until he was page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 32 .B-E SOY, ON WHE RE WA S rIE h" sick. He played marbles with a little boy from Bos- ton, and won all his stock. He wore hinlself out in the endeavor to amuse him- qfE And when his father carried hin :up-stairs on his back, after dinner on Friday evening, he begged hin to take him out for a walk. Little Harry was five years old, tall of his age, smart, bright, quick, and full of fun. His hair was iet black, like his father's; his eye was a blue gray, like his mother's. Nothing frightened him, but he could be easily moved by his sympathies. Altogether he .was a loving, lovable boy-one of the kind that fathers whip and mothers shield; who always turn out well in'spite of the lash, and develop qualities precisely the opposite to those which their' ".teachers and guardians" predict for their man- hood. However, out they went. The father proud of the son; the boy pleased with his father. They walked over to the City Hall Park, and ad- mired the architectural wonders of the building with its marble front and freestone rear. They wandered over the green grass, watched a free fight between two rival fire companies at the corner of Chatham and Frankfort streets, bought a penny glass of ice cream of an old woman near the Park, and were turning down-town towards the Astor House, when- THE BOY, OX 0WHERE WAS E? - 33 "Hallo! where's the boy?" Quite a question, wasn't it? Horace looked in vain . He met one of Matsell's watchmen in an old. fashioned police hat, and told him his story. Of course he wasted time. What should he do? The unfeeling crowd hurried by him. Carts and wagons and stages passed in everlasting procession along the street. But the boy, the apple of his eye, the core of his heart, the darling of his wife-his wife! How should he tell his wife? What should he tell his wife? Half crazed with fear, full of bitter self-reproaches, uncertain which way to go, unfamiliar with the city and its ways, the poor fellow grasped the first man he could, and asked him to show him to the station. Thinking Russell was drunk, the man- shoved him off, and hurried on. He spoke to another and was directed to the-Chief's office, where all the satisfaction he could get was the tantalizing reply that if the boy turned up, the office would keep him until his father called. "But I leave the country to-morrow," said Horace; ", the steamer sails at nine, and we must be on board by eight." "Oh, wait over," replied the Sergeant. /: page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 THE BOY, OH WHERE WAS HEI "1 My father is dying and I must go," rejoined Rus- sell. , But of course " talk-" did no good. The officer took little Harry's name and description in his Book, thus:- THE RECORD. Person-Small boy. Name-Harry Russell. ,Age-Five years. 1Description-Tall, slende Remarks-Lost near lower end of the City Hall Park. Horace Russell at Astor House. t "' There, sir," said the Sergeant, now that all right. You go home and if the boy is- found we'll take care of him. Now don't make a fuss. Good night." And with that he slammed the book upon the desk, by way of emphasis, and turned to read his paper. Horace moved off with a heavy heart and hesitated long before he gave up the search, and went to tell his wife. What words are adequate to picture that scene? The heart-crushed man and the horror-struck woman looked at each other, as shrouded in despair, they saw their utter helplessness, and felt their desolation. If Harry had died, they would have known the ex- tent of their loss;- but the very uncertainty of his fate added to, their misery and gave poignancy to the sick- ness of their hearts. THE BOY, OH WHERE WAS z . 35 Those of you who have laid your hearts in the grave can understand, partially, the feeling with which Jen- nie sat at the window through the weary hours of that long night, while Horace paced the streets. You who have not known Death, need not seek to understand./ ; s page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] CHAPTER VI. SHORT AND BITTER. of frantic grief. Horace felt the urgency of the errand he was on, and when the Police suggested that if he must go, possiblyhis wife could remain and prosecute the search, he accepted the proposition, and at once broached it to Jennie. Well--she was a. wonman and a wife and a mother, and that tells the story. He went on, and she stayed behind. She drove to the dock and watched the steamer; waving her handkerchief to her husband, as he stood leaning against the rail. What wonder that the strong man wept? CHAPTER VII. "OVE MELTETH EVEN PRIDE. H, the long, long days at sea! And the nights--would they never-end? His heart was with his wife and boy, but his duty sternly beckoned Horace to his father's home. Not an hour passed in the dreary day without its prayer to Heaven, that little Harry might be saved. And in the weary watches of tfe night, the father heard the little fellow's cry, and starting, found he heard it not. The Captain and some of the passengers knew of the circumstances attending Horace's trip, and en- deavored to console him by such suggestions as naturally occur to men of the world; but the heart- sick parent heeded. them not. And even while he looked ahead to the meeting with his father, his very soul lingered longingly near the dear ones in New York. Every storm brought pictur. ; of Harry's distress - page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 38 LO VE MELTE TH E VEN PRIDE. Before his eyes; and when the full features of the Au- gust moon disclosed themselves in the placid sky, wonder and imagination were busy with the possibili- ties of accident or harm to the wanderer. At length Liverpool was reached, the kind Rector seen and repaid, the brisk drive made to the county town, near which were his father's works, and finally the mill itself loomed up beyond the stream, quickly followed by the house where he was born, and where Ihis dear ones died. Horace had left his home a youth, full of hope and courage. He returned a man, sick in heart, anxious, restless, worn with care. A strange face greeted-him at the door. Entering he met the Doctor and, a neighbor, to whom his com- ing was like the appearance of a welcome ghost, for - not' an hour in all the days went by in which the sick man did not murmur, "Horace, Harry, Horace Horace." In a sentence, the condition of Joseph Russell was disclosed. It was possible, the Doctor said, that he might rally, and recover his senses before morn- ing, but his death was a question of brief time only, and might indeed occur at any moment. Hastily passing his friends, Horace made his way to the well-remembered bedroom. On the wall hung the portrait of his blessed mother ti * - X "O VE MEL TE TH EVEN PRIDE. 39 There was the chair in which she sat and read to him on Sunday. The old-fashioned bureau standing in, the corner still held the sampler she worked at school, and. in a frame at the end stood a silhouette of her mother, cut by an artist at the County Fair. The brass hand-irons and the wooden-, stool were as natural as life, and the high-posted bedstead- On that was his father. His father indeed, but not the father of his thoughts. He remembered a strong, athletic man; he saw a faded, dying paralytic. Advancing cautiously to the side of the bed, Horace laid one hand gently on his father's ample brow, and. pressing with the other the attenuated fingers which nervously played with the outer covering, whispered: "Father, I am Horace, do you know me?" For a moment all was still. The sick man opened his eyes. His parched lips wanted water, and after it was given him, with an effort he partly raised himself in bed and began to speak, when he fell exhausted on - the pillow. ; ' . Almost distracted, Horace called the doctor, who knew he was of no use, but very kindly came in, looked solemn, suggested the wetting of the lips, ad-. vised perfect quiet, and went out. Presently Joseph Russell opened his great black A re page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] 40 .L O VE MEL TETH E VENi PRIDE. eyes again, smiled, sat up in bed, threw his arms upon hiS son, mlurmured: "Horace, Harry, Mary," and 'gave up the ghost. For an instant Jennie and little Harry were blotted from existence. - For an instant boyhood resumed its being, and Horace was a romping lad, cheered on by Harry, laughed at by his mother, and chided by his prouder father. And thjsn--well, it only lasted an instant. Then he was a man again, with a father dehd' before him, a sorrowing wife he knew not where, and a boy-oh, what would IIorace not have given if he could re- gain that boy? After the funeral. services, which were largely at tended by all the county some three days after, Mr. Wilson who had been Joseph Russell's man of busi- ness in all matters affecting law and formula, begged the favor of Horace's presence in the library. He went. - "s Mr.' Russell," said Mr. Wilson, " as the sole heir and legatee of Joseph Russell, deceased, I have in- vited you here to take formal cognizance of the will of the decedent. He was a queer man, sir, a queer man. Would you believe it, sir, I never have read this will. He wrote it himself, sir, six yeajs ago, the very night poor Harry died, when he tore up one I L O VE MEL TE TH E VEN PRIDE. 41 did write, and about which I of course knew every- thing. The will has been in my box six years, handed me by Joseph Russell himself, witnessed by me and my clerk, and we will read it sir, together. , THE WILL. In 'the name of God, Amen. I, Joseph Russell, of Lewes, County Sussex, England, being in clear head and sound body, make this my will and testament, all others being destroyed and of no avail. My wife Mary is dead, God bless her. My son Harry is dead, God bless him. And I have no other kindred, heirs, or assigns." Up to this poinrt Mr. Wilson had read quite glibly; now he began to be apprehensive.* Horace sat like a stone. Mr. Wilson continued:-"My oldest. son Horace Russell, God bless him, left 'his home years ago. I threatened tdisinherit him. I never did, I never shall. He is bone of my bone, and flesh of my flesh. He has my pardon-I hope for his. To him, Horace Russell, I leave my house, my mills, my real estate, and all my property, real and personal, of whatever nature, to do with as he may elect, re- servinig such sums as he may find necessary for the discharge of my funeral expenses and; other debts; -nd excepting 50o to each foreman, .2 to each r page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 LOE MEL TET EVEN PRsIDE. operative, 500oo to the parish of St.' Sarah, and 10o per annum for the care o the ground where rest the dear bodies of Mary my wife, and Harry my son. Written with my own hand on one sheet of white foolscap paper, this iIIth of August, I849, and signed by me, and witnessed by John Wilson and Henry Place. JOSEPH RUSSELL, L. S. Witness, JOHN WILSON, iL. S. HENRY PLACE, L. S. "' Gracious heavens, Mr. Russell!" said the grati- fied attorney, "this-is handsome. Why, sir, you've a plum at least, sir. iThe' mills themselves are worth three quarters of that, and you may rely on my cal- culation. I congraltuate'you, sir. When shall we go on?" Horace never said a word. In a moment .1 00,ooo were placed at his disposal, and he never said 0Me word. ' Mn. Wilson begart to feel out of place. Presently he was convinced th/at he had better retire, Then he laid -his card on the table, took his hat in his hand, and quietly stole away. And Horace sat motionless for hours, and never said one word aloud. - CHAPTER VIII. TILL DEATH DOTH THEM PART. 'ORACE met his wife at the wharf. Not a word was needed. Her looks answered his distressed and anxious eye. She had come home without the boy. That night they slept in the old house, the dear old hqme where Horace was, born, every room of which had its precious memory of those who 'were gone. Slept did we say-far from it. Held tightly in her loving husband's arms, Jennie told the ten days' story of her terrible experiences; how she had wearied the police with her importunity; how the Astor House people had kindly interested themselves in her trouble, and laid it before the chief magistrate of the city; how the press had aided her; and how after ten days of ceaseless energy, tireless activity and most faithful inquiry, they and she had been forced to see the utter uselessness of further search . page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] " TILL DEATH DOTH THEM PART. "And then, darling," said Jennie as floods of tears re"lived her tired head, "I turned to you. I turned to Fyou and longed to have you tell' me where to look for comfort; how to reconcile my sorrow with my faith; how I could pray to a loving Saviour, with the grieving voice of Harry calling ' mamma,' in my ears." What cduld the strong man say? - How could he, whose very heart was dried to dust in grief, find waters of consolation for the crushed and broken woman at his'side? And- so the night rolled on, beguiled by Horace's report concerning his father's death, his will, his busi- ness cares and sudden responsibilities, until as the early morning came they dropped to sleep. To sleep, but not to rest. Not to rest, for every noise startled Jennie from her slumber, and ,every movement of her husband brought her back to grief, and in every breath she dreamed of Harry, till, with the bright sunlight stream- ing in the window, she woke to repeat her experi- ence, and Horace more exhausted than before, found nothing in his heart to say. There are griefs-and griefs, just as there are differ- ent kinds of people. Some wear off; others wear in. Horace felt quite as deeply as Jennie did, but upon him was laid her care, her comfort, and, perhaps he found in that duty a certain relief to which she was TILL DEATH DOTH THEM PART. 45 al stranger. And then he was at once so thoroughly immersed in business care that for many hours every day his. mind was forced into other channels, and thus he was comforted. But Jennie had no cares. Her housekeeper took care of the establishment. She had no little ones to look out for. She found very little pleasure in renewing acquaintance with the few who remembered her as " that factory-girl who run off with Horace Russell," and she was literally left to self-communion and self-torture the greater part of the time. She had authorized the police to pay one thousand dollars to- any person who would give provable in- formation about Harry, dead or alive, and she com- municated regularly, through Mr. Wilson, with the New York authorities. At the end of a few months the lost boy had become a very old story to the offi- cials, and finally the Chief wrote to Mr. Wilson that further -correspondence was unnecessary, but that if anything was discovered at any time he wold, of course, and at once, communicate with him. From that date Jennie declined. She declined fast. Horace watched her lile a lover, and tended her , like a mother. Her slightest wish was a command. All her bodily wants were anticipated by the kindest of husbands, and assuming a cheer he was far from / v . ' - ' , O page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " -TILL DEA TH D O TH THEM PAR . feeling, the generous fellow often endeavored to lea her into such pleasant paths of social excitement -a were open to them. But he failed. His heart walsn't there,-and what excitement cai take the place of interest? - Slowly, but surely, her decline developed into th foreshade of Death, and one bright moonlight night with her feeble arms around her husband's neck, as hi encircled hers, she sweetly smiled her crushed an( broken heart into the eternal silence of an early grave :. ax 2 CHAPTER IX. TWENTY YEARS AFTER. r HE grave and reverend Matseli, superintend ent of the New York police force, sat in his cosy inner office,. dividing his precious time between the demolishment of a huge bunch of grapes and the mastery of a copy of formal "charges" pre- ferred against the Board of Commissioners, when a formidable looking document, bearing the impress of the City's seal, was handed him. Naturally cautious and careful of his digestion, he first finished his grapes and then. broke the seal. In the envelope was the following "ETTER FROM THE MAYOR. MAYOR'S OFFICE, NEW YORK, August io, 1874. SIR,-You will on receipt of this, detail a reliable and efficient officer from the Detective Bureau to aid Horace Russell, Esq., in a matterof importance. Mr. Russell can be found at the Clarendon Hotel to-mor- page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 TWENTY YEARS AFTER. row morning at nine o'clock, at which time let th officer report to him, and place himself absolutely a his disposal, until such time as his-services are of n' further use. Mr; Russell will provide whatever fund may be necessary in the undertaking, and the office will be relieved of all other duty, until dismissed bi him. By order of the Mayor. GEORGE C. KING, ChIief Clerk. To GEO. W. MATSELL, SUpt. Police. "Heaven bless me," said the- old Chief. "Wha can this be? In the whole course of my official lift I never have read such an order as this before. ,How ever, I'll soon know all about it." Summoning Captain Irving, he asked which of th, detectives would be most, likely to serve the purpos desired. Without a moment's hesitation, Captai Irving replied- "John. Hardy, the keenest man I have, but I don' care to spare him for any length of time." "Never mind that," rejoined the Chief, " send hin to me." In a few moments'Officer John Hardy presente, himself'at the Superintendent's desk. Standing erec in the presence of his superior he was as handsome man as one would see in a long day's walk. Appa rently about twenty-four years old he was at least fiv i / TWENTY YEARS AFTER. feet ten inches high, straight and slender; his hair was jet black ; his eyes an indescribable gray, looking blue or black as they were enlivened by humor or anger; his nose was not purely Grecian, but passed for such; and over a well formed lip, firm though full, hung a soft and graceful moustache. John had fun in him. Quick to detect the grotesque, easy temper- ed, with a sunny disposition, nervous, industrious and persevering, he had worked his way from the humble post of messenger, through every grade in the service, until he stood high in the esteem of his superiors as a detective of rare sagacity, wonderful intuition, and fairly magical in " luck." All men have histories, but very few can look back upon a more eventful career-in humble life--than John Hardy. His parents were scavengers. That is, his father was, and his mother-well she was a scavenger's wife, with the same skeleton and general formation as the rest of her sex: with love for her child like other women, and full of the ambitions, cares and anxieties common to us all. , John Hardy's father was a scavenger. That is, he used to go out in the morning with a bag, or basket, and a pick or rake, searching for what he might find. And he found a great-deal. He found so much in gutter and street, in mound and filth, in sewer and re- fuse, that when he died his wife and son were heirs to' 3 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 TWENTY YEARS AFTER. $5,000 and a tenement house worth $10,000 more, with a rental of $600 per annum. The secrets of' New York sewers are not -open to the world. Even the keen eyes of New York repor- ters have not searched them out, and what reporters have not discovered must be tolerably well hid. Down in the dirty depths so black and full of gloom, myriads of nasty creatures hunt each other. Rats and slimy creeping things prey on weaker evidences of Nature's omnipresence. Water and slime slush through the channels; all manner of refuse finds its way to the outlet; jewels, the lost of every name, sink to the bottom, or lodge on the jutting stones; in other words under our streets, there are other avenues where life -conceals itself, where riches pass side by side with the offscourinjgs of the earth, and where the lantern of the scavenger discloses much that is terrible and sicken- ing, but much, also, that is valuable and worth pre- serving. A life spent in unveiling the mysteries of sewerage is not likely to be rich in anything, lest it be in the dis- covered wealth to be found in the dirt and muck of the streets; but scavengers are men, and there is no reason why they should necessarily be bad men. At all events, John Hardy's father was so good a man as this: He loved his wife, and -idolized their son. He knew nothing of books, cared nothing for news- TWENTFY YEARS AFTER. 5 papers, and never went to church. But he sent John to school, and when the little fellow marched to the head of his classes, developing talent in every line of study, and, finally, st6od before an audience of a thou- sand strangers, wearing the medals of honor, as he spoke the valedictory of his class, who shall say that the tears which, coursed down the -old man's cheeks were not as nlanly and as creditable to the scavenger, as though they were born of a philosopher or a student? The Hardys' humble home was quite near Police Head-quarters, and long before John had left the pub- lic school he was as intimate and familiar there as any of the officers. He was a bright boy, quick as a flash, and always - ready to do errands for the habitues of the place. When he left school he was made messenger in the Inspector's office, then a clerk, and after a subsequent term ads roundsman, was detailed to detective duty, where we have found him. "( Officer Hardy,'; said the Superintendent, ," I have received an-order from the Mayor directing me to de- tail a prudent man from your bureau for an important duty. The Captain recommends you, and I confirm his selection. You will call on Mr. Russell, at the Clarendon, at 9 o'clock to-morrow morning, and place yourself at his disposal. I have no information as to his desires. Do whatever he directs, and in case of doubt report at once to me; you are relieved from page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] S 52 TWENTY YEARS AFTER. duty here until further orders. Now do your best, Hardy. I have a feeling that this is to be a great opportunity. Why, I'm sure I don't know: but I du. That's all," and as Hardy went away the Chief reread the order from the Mayor, and wondered what it could refer to. a , CHAPTER X. HE AND SHE. \ T nine o'clock on the following day officer Hardy, in citizen's dress, was ushered into the presence of Mr. Russell. It was Horace. Time had told upon him. His head was bald-as a billiard ball, and the locks which fringed the scalp and hung curling over the ears were gray. His eye was as bright as in the old- en time, but his form was bent, and the close-shut mouth marked the firmness of his will, which had de- veloped of late much like his fatler's. Advancing to meet the detective, Mr. Russell look- ed at him with undisguised interest. He expected to see a cast-iron soldier, straight, stiff and pompous. In place of such a one he was confronted by a handsome youth, who might as well be taken forta,. gentleman of leisure, as a man whose life was devoted to the unearthing of villany. page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 HE AAND SUHE. "Mr. Hardy, you are the officer I was told to ex- pect this morning, I presume, and I am very glad to see you," said Horace Russell; "this is my wife and this my daughter." At the moment of speaking two ladies entered the room, the elder a woman of perhap forty years, a matron grave, dignified and handsome; the other a petite young miss, upon whose fair head some eighteen summers had cast their loving sunshine, leaving the golden impress on every waving tress. "Take seats, please," said Mr. Russell; "I have much to tell Mr. Hardy, and he needs to be attentive." "You would much better let mamma tell him, papa dear," said Maud, as she put a lump of sugar between the bars of her canary's cage. "She knows'all about it, and you say yourself she is just as much interested in poor dear Harry as you are, and as for me, I'm fairly wild about him. Come,' Mr. Hardy, you sit there near the window. Papa can have the easy-chair. I'll sit on this hassock by papa's knee ; and mamma, let's see, mamma must take the-piano-stool so she can gesture. There now, who says I'm not a manager?"- Even Mr. Russell laughed at the girl's vivacity. All were seated as Maud directed, and John Hardy pinched his arm. He really didn't know whether he was in Heaven or at his work. He soon found out. "Well, Mr. Hardy," began Mrs. Russell, "it's a HE AND SHE. 55 very long story. I don't think you'll need that note- book,-for I'll make it simple, and there really is very little in the way of dates and names and places. You know our name, and that's the only name -you need to remember, and you certainly know New York, and that's the only place involved; so what's the use of notes?" John put up his book, and Mrs. Russell went on. Horace shut his eyes, and Maud held his hands like a vice. "Ten years ago," said the lady, "I went to Eng- land, from my native city, New York, a widow with my little Maud, then eight years -old and very deli- cate. Mr. Russell met us, and nine years since, this very month, we were married. Three months ago, on my husband's fifty-third birthday, we gave a grand holiday party to the hands of his factory, and every- thing was going on splendidly, when I accidentally stumbled on him in his study, with his head on his desk, crying like a baby. It was the third time I had found him so. The other times I went away quietly, thinking it best not to disturb him, but this seemed so strange I really couldn't resist, the impulse to speak. I did so. At first he parried my questions, but finally told me about a little boy he had, lost in New York twenty years ago; how he never slept without dreaming of his child; that in his thoughts by day and his hours of wakefulness at night the little fel- page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] 5 6 56 HE AND SHE. low was ever present; that bitterest self-reproaches were constantly heaped upon him, and that over all his life of prosperity and success hung this dreadful mystery, like a pall of blackest gloom, and at times he felt he should go mad in sheer depair." "And you," said the detective. "I," replied Mrs. Russell, "I saw my path as plain as daylight. In less than ten minutes I had the mas- ter among his men, the happiest of them all, for I had settled it then and there that his duty and my piea- sure were one. His duty was to find that boy; my pleasure was the same-and that's why we're here." "Yes, Mr.. Hardy, that's why we're here," broke in Maud, " and that's why you're here, which is much more to the point. Only I don't see that mamma has told you as much as she might have. For instance, mamma, don't you remember how papa says-he was just at the lower end of,a park, and was looking at a picture of a fat woman and a zebra on a great banner across a street, when all of a sudden little Harry was gone?" "Perhaps Mr. Russell can give me the details of the loss, now that I have heard the story of your com- ing," said Hardy, and taking his note-book from his pocket received from Horace Russell the particu- lars of the eventful night, when all that made life dear and sweet to a loving mother and a happy father was in an instant blotted frointheir sight. rr- AND SHE. 57 5 7 Then as he rose to leave the detective said : "First of all I'll hunt up the police blotter and find out all they knew at the time of the disappearance." "And then," said Maud. "And then, Miss," replied he, " we'll consider our course." It was arranged between Mr. Russell and Hardy that the latter should call every morning at nine, and report every evening at eight, and that whatever hap- pened should be disclosed in full at the latter hour. Bidding the Russells good morning, John Hardy found himself hurrying down town -to the Central office, as if wings were on his feet, and ether in his lungs. The man thought he was interested in his mission. Perhaps he was. He certainly was heels over head in love, with Maud Russell, and didn't know it. page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] CHAPTER XI. SOME STRANGE DEVELOPMENTS. WHEN Hardy reached Headquarters he re- ported at once to Superintendent Matsell the developments of the morning, and was gratified at the great interest the old gentleman took in the matter; especially, when upon comparing dates it was found that little Harry had been lost when Matsell was C hief of the Municipal Police, some twenty years before. Reference to the official documents afforded nothing beyond the bare fact of loss, and so far as any practi- cal help was concerned, the books might have been burned years before. - This much was ascertained-no dead body answer- ing Harry's description had been found at or near the time of his disappearance, and on that -they based a hope that he was still living. "It might be well, Hardy," said the Chief, " to ex- amine the records at the Tombs. Suppose we go down there now "-and jumping on a Bleecker street car, down they went. SOME STRANGE DE VELOPMENTS. 59 Warden Quinn stood at the open gateway of the City Prison? as the Superintendent, in full uniform, gold spectacles and high hat, stepped upon the side- walk. A second after John Hardy appeared from the car, and together the officials walked up to the War- den, who saluted them with a-calmness of demeanor which very inadequately pictured the wonder of his mind. "Ah, John, good morning, John," said Matsell, addressing the Warden. "Hardy and I have a little business with your old books, this morning. How long will it take Finley to get down the record book bf 1854? I want to see it. Let's see; we want August. Tell him to get us the August record, John. and then show us through the prison." The Warden gave the necessary orders to the kindly-faced keeper, who- has been on duty at the Tombs, man and boy, since the first prisoner was taken inside,its dreary walls. The three then passed the keeper at the inner gate, who crespectfully to ched his hat as he- facetiously proffered return tickets to the Superintendent and the Detective, and walking along the stone-covered enclosure, reached the entrance to the prison for men, just as that relic of barbarism, the "Black Maria," was driven in for its morning load of island prisoners. The ' Black Maria" is a heavy wagon, shaped like UP page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] ) 60 SOME STRANGE DEVELOPMENTS. a windowless omnibus. At the extreme top is a slit, extending around frPom front to rear, and immediately back of the driver is a small hole. Through these utterly inadequate orifices air is supplied to the people shut and lcked :in, on their way from the Tombs to the island ferry. Men and women, old and young, drunk, and sober, filthy and clean, innocent and guilty, the hardened offender and the neophyte inll crime are packed into this noisome van, as sheep were formerly crowded in the cattle cars, before the happier days of Henry Bergh and his Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Dumb Animals. Who can exaggerate the scenes possible in that hideous vehicle? Instances of horriblel brutality and physical-outrage are of frequent occurrence, and every trip makes known its report of blasphemy and inde- cency, wicked and repulsive in the extreme. The Commissioners of Public Charities and Correction are good men and kind, They love their families, and give humane directions to their subordinates ; but &yhat do, they know of the actual life of the prisoners nominally controlled by them? , i Take this very small part of the daily routine, the transfer of criminals from the temporary to the permanent prison. They see it done every day of the year; they see the rude conveyance, the brutal keeper, the unfeeling driver; they know that men and women are crowded into the narrow, unventio SOME STRANGE DEVELOPMEANTS. 6 lated, stomach-turning coffin, like pigs-they know and see it all, as their predecessors did for thirty years before them, but they make. no change, effect no improvement. And if there is this indifference to matters directly before their eyes, what are the probabilities of the ten thousand horrors concealed from their gaze, kept out of sight by cunning officers, or perpetrated when the superintending-eye is turned away? The holiday story of our public institutions is often told, and paraded at length in the columns of our papers, but the great everyday suffering--that's as yet unwritten. The Warden's quick eye saw the disgust pictured on John Hardy's face, as sixteen hideous looking brutes were packed in the wagon, and turning his attention, said to Mr. Matsell: Well, Chief, it's rather a novelty to see you down here. What's up?" "That's a fact, Quinn," replied Mr. Matsell, "I really don't believe I've been here before in six months. I know very little of the details of our office. It isn't as it used to be. Bless my heart! Why, in the old time the Chief knew everything, and did pretty much everything too. We didn't have any political Board to bother us. The Mayor was head of the police, as he ought to be; and, head of every- -thing, as he ought to be. But he never interfered with me. Many's the time I'Pe put on an old slouch and dove down amo S the roughs, wormed into their Dor ,- ),: page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 SOME STRANGE DEVELOPMENTS. secrets, been arrested and taken in, and never found out till the magistrate ordered me to take off my hat in the morning. In those days, John, a Chief was a Chief. Talk about this uniform; why look at that picture hanging in the office'when you go back. It's a- picture of me in -the old fashioned uniform, hat and all. That was a uniform, and it meant something too." "That 1'twenty years ago' seems to stick in your crop, old man," said Warden Quinn, as he gave a sly wink at the detective. "Yes, yes it does," said Matsell. 'The- Mayor. was saying to me only a few days ago, that with all our 'modern improvements' he thought there was really less security on the public streets 'now than there was then. It seems harder to get the right kind of men ,on the force. Politicians boss the whole job, and it's simply impossible to move on the works of some of the worst criminals in the city, with suc- cess. They know all about our purposes about as soon as we do who make them. Yu'll be surprised ' to know what I am here for now. Oh! good morn- ing, Mrs. Foster." This salutation was in honor of the matron of the prison for women, a good dame of perhaps fifty years of age, combining keen qualities of head with kindly graces of heart; and as rigid a disciplinarian as any martinet in the army of tradition. Mrs. Foster hls been matron of the prison thirty . . SOME STRANGE DEVELOPMENT S. 63 years. She is one of the few persons in New York official life who hold position on account of fitness. Wardens may come and wardens may go, but matron Foster holds on forever. With the unfortunate she is kind, as becomes a woman. With the vicious she is stern, as befits a matron. She tolerates no breakage of her rules, but looks with great favor on the erring sister who would be glad to do better. Mrs. Foster is not so famous as Florence Nightingale, but her sphere is as important and her mission as holy. Were she relentless and cruel, as many women are, she could make the Tombs a hell. Were she a gossip, as many women incurably are, she has it in her power to retail evil enough about New York to afford the press sensations for a decade. She's no such person. Advancing with a quick, elastic step, she cordially greeted her old friend the Superintendent, noddesd hastily and pleasantly to the Warden and the de- tective, and invited them into her sitting-room. After a momnent's rest they passed through a narrow passage into the Female Prison, white and clean as constant scrubbings could make it, and chilly as a tomb. On the left of a contracted- corridor were a number of small cells, most of which were empty. In one of them was a " Drunk "-a young hearty-look- ing woman, who, fighting and screaming, had-been pushed in but a short time previous, and falling flat page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] ". SOME STRANGE DEV'ELOPMENTS. upon her face soon passed into a dull and heavy sleep. She was brought in by a policeman, too drunk to care for anything or anybody; naturally a good-hearted girl, gin made her a demon. She was full of it, and from her shapely lips fell such terrible profanity as made even the accustomed ears of the matron and her assistant, Mrs. French, shrink with disgust. Her bottle was taken from her pocket, and when the Warden and his guests looked through the iron grating -her heavy snore resounded through the hall, and beastliness seemed perfectly disclosed. This is not the forum for a lecture on temperance -but that Sight was a text from which lectures might well be drawn. It is true enough that women and children, as a rule, suffer from the intemperance of their husbands and parents, but no one who is unfamiliar with the police blotters of our station-houses, and the sad records of the lower courts, and the fearful scenes witnessed every day in every year by the prison officialsacan under- stand the extent to which whiskey drinkins carried by the women of this generation. Surely intemperance is the Sin of the Time. Every fashionable saloon, has its patrons on whose tables light wines sparkle. At the parties of our ,"best people" wine is offered in the supperroom, and young men find stronger stimulants iv their J, AS . . SOME STRANGE DEVELOPMENTS. 65 retreat above.- The lady who accepts the invitation of her friend to dance, finds herself in an all-embrac- ing aroma of punch or toddy. On the cars, one con- stantly sees little flasks produced, turned up and emptied. Every hotel's finest apartment is its bar room, made brilliant with gorgeous adornments and magnificent fixtures. From the earliest dawn of New Year's morning to tee last flicker of December's stars, wine and rum, and whiskey and gin are regarded by many as Heaven's best gifts to man. Pious men rent their stores for gin mills. Christian gentlemen pay their pew rent from in- comes derived from the traffic in liquor. And are women so different that the temptations of palate and physical sensation which fascinate men, are powerless over them? Let the Tombs answer. Go to Blackwell's Island and examine the sickening record. We have Societies for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and Associations for the Conversion of For- eign Heathens, but it seems to us that if ever there was a need-for societies and associations now is the time, and this the sphere of operation. Old and young, nale and female, are on the broad road to death and destruction,-andhum is the devil who leads them. Mrs. Foster's iron steps were bright as a new dollar. . , page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] -66 SOME STRANGE DE VELOPMENTS. At the head of the staircase is a circular corridor, white-washed and damp, from which open cells like those on the lower tier. In these are always crowded many girls, the majority of whom await trial, or are serving short sentences of ten to thirty days. Now and then one has a book, or a paper, but as a rule, they sit or lounge all day and sleep all night; the hardened and the beginners together, with no distinction of any sort or kind between them. Itqis all wrong-but how to remedy it is a huge problem. As the party passed along to a private reception- room at the end of the corridor, Mr. Matsell said: "Mrs. Foster, I came down to-day more especially to see, if by reference to the old records, I could find out anything about a little boy who was lost twenty years ago this August. I was Chief at the time, but all I can recall, is that the papers made quite a fuss about it, a small re ward was offered, and nothing came of it. I thought 'there might possibly--but it really isn't probable-be some clue from the books here. Ah! here's Mr. Findley with the record." The keeper handed the Record-book to the Super- intendent, who adjusted his great gold spectacles and slowly turned the pages until he found the date. There were " drunks -'and "disorderlies" by the score, two murders, a few burglaries, the customary allowance of mnilder offences, but no clue to a lost X I I ' SOME STRANGE DEVELOPMENTS. 67 boy. Ordinarily there would be no sense in looking at the Tombs' books for such a record, but it will be remembered that neither the police memorandum nor the coroner's office furnished any information what- ever, and the only other chance was that little Harry had been taken directly before a -magistrate and committed by him to the temporary care of the warden. Under the head of August 2 ist, appeared this entry: Name: James Delaney. Age: 45. Occupation: Builder. Residence .: Stranger. A Offence: Drunk. Sentence: Io days city-prison, $Io fine. Remarks: When brought in had small boy, five years old, with him. Boy sent in to Foster. Dis- charged after two days' detention, and fine remitted by Dowling. ".Let me see that," said Mrs. Foster. Seizing the book the good old lady put on her ' glasses, ran her finger over the entry, and then gave a long whistle. "Bless my heart. That's the same boy," said she. "Why, French and I have talked that child over and over a hundred, yes, a thousand times. He was the dearest, sweetest little fellow you ever saw, and he no more belonged to that Delaney than I do. The boyl, seemed to like him, too, but there was'something page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 6 0a 1E,SOAi 5'TRANGE DEVELOPMEN7'S. about. them both that didn't hitch. I had the little \ chap right in this room and I held: him right in this chair. I rocked him on my lap, and all I could get out of him was ' I: want my mamma,' or 'where's papa?' He wouldn't tell his name, except 'Bub' or 'Bob,' so we called him ' Bob.' I got Dowling to let the man go for the child's sake-you can always manage Joe Dowling through his heart-and when they went off the fellow was sober and ashamed, and the tears stood in his eyes because they fixed him up a pass for Chicago, and a kit. Remenmber that boy! I remember him as if he sat before me this blessed minute." "God bless my soul!" said Matseli. The Warden, though a kind-hearted man, was too much accustomed to sensations, to- be particularly af- fected, but Detective Hardy, who was young and en- thusiastic, jumped at what he clearly saw was one end of a clue, which might lead him to professional suc- cess, and perhaps aid him in making an impression on the young lady at the Clarendon. Even while copying the record and making memo- randa of the matron's story, John Hardy's active im- agination was building castles in the airy future. He saw-what is there that young men and women do not see at such times?--fame, fortune, success in all that makes life worth the living, all absolutely in one's grasp, -almost. How often we wake from sunny dreams, so real, so true, that they challenge- -, SOME STRANGE DE VEL OPMENTSS 69 physical experience itself in reality, only to find that they nay be, but are not, true. But Hardy was hopeful. He had a royal physique. Every movement, from the flash of his eye to the tread of his foot,-showed spirit. He thought quickly, spoke well, bore himself, as became a man, never forgot his position, and was one of the few men in this queer world, who have sense granted them before they have wasted life, and lost its opportunities in experience. He knew perfectly well the social difference be- tween himself and Maud Russell, and -that she had seen 'in him simply a means of bringing peace and comfort to her father's heart. He knew that she cared no more -for him than for the driver of her carriage. And, to do him justice, he had not as yet detected in himself any feeling deeper than that ofj admiration for a very beautiful and winsome woman. But for all that, he was conscious of an influence, an attraction which made him think, and was gradually affecting his purposes and plans. Taking down all that the record disclosed, dnd making full notes of all that Mrs. Foster could recall concerning Delaney and the little "Bob," Hardy said to, the Superintendent that he thought he would go to the Hotel, and see Mr. Russell, although he would not be expected until eight in the evening. They parted at the entrance, the Superintendent page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 SOME STRANGE DEYVELOPMENTS. going down to meet the Mayor, with whom he went every noon to eat clams in Fulton Market, and the detective to the Clarendon. v . V. cA I ";* CHAPTER XII. THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS. J OHN HARDY reached the hotel at four o'clock in the afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Russell were out driving, but Maud, know- ing the arrangement between her step-father and the detective, inferred that this call must be a matter of importance, and directed the waiter to show Hardy to the parlor. When Hardy entered, Maud advanced to meet him with an eagerness born entirely of her interest in his mission. He was disappointed and pleased to hear that Mr. Russell was not in, but deeming discre- tion the better part, simply said that he would call later, and made his adieu. As he left the room, a gentleman in the undress uniform of a naval officer entered, and greeted Maud with earnestness and evident delight. Hardy looked long enough to see that the interest was reciprocal, and with a muttered disgust hurried away. Holding Maud's hand in his, William Templeton as-' 1, page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] 72 E THtE SNAKE IN THE GRASS. drew the fair girl to a seat in the window, partly con- cealed by the heavy drapery, and sat beside her. "Well, dearest," he began, "is it true at last? Have I .really found you, and is it possible I hold your dear hand in mine, uninterrupted for a moment? Really, it seems too good to be true." Maud smiled sweetly, and after a moment's linger- ing, drew somewhat away from her, ardent lover, and laughingly said: "There, Will, that must do for now; how fortunate that you should see me here; do you know who that person is I was talking with? He's a detective, and is going to help father find his little boy,." "His little boy?" echoed Templeton. "Yes, his little boy, lost ever so many years ago," replied Maud. "Papa hasn't seen him in twenty years, and he's determined now to find him, if it's a possible thing." "Well, don't waste time in talking about little boys," said Templeton. "If he has as hard a time in finding a son, as I have had in trying to find a father, I pity him, that's all." William Templeton was a waif. He was found in a Massachusetts work-house by a benevolent party of Boston. By him he was taken to the Hub, educated and fitted for college. When the civil war fever broke out, William was fond of the water, and begged his THE SNAKE IN THE -GRASS. 73 friend to get for him a commission in the navy. He did so, and the lad entered the regular navy as en- sign, and at the end of the war ranked as Lieutenant, with an unusual record, creditable to himn as a man and a sailor. - His protector died shortly after, leaving him a small fortune. The lieutenant went to Europe on leave of absence, and on his trip home met and admired Maud Russell. Together they promenaded the Cunarder's deck long after the old folks had " turned in." The moon, the skies, the ships in the distance, the astronomical perplexities, the sea serpent, the phos- phorescence in the water, the gulls and the passengers were for them a never-failing source of interest and conversation. She became entangled. Her affections went out toward this stranger, and he was greatly taken with this charming English girl, Men are curious creatures, and take the oddest possible fancies. Everybody on that good ship liked William Temple- ton except Horace Russell, and Horace Russell was the only man for whose good-will William Templeton cared the toss of a copper. When Maud or his wife appealed to him to be more courteous towards Templeton, Mr. Russell -be- came insanely angry. He gave no reason for his dis- 4 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] -74 THYE SNAKE IN THE GRASS. like, all he knew was that he would not like him, and he forbade his wife and daughter even to speak to him, in the improbable event of his crossing their, path after reaching the-city. Mrs. Russell's influence over her husband was great, because she rarely .exert- ed it. He was a good man, and although very set in his ways, was never deaf to sensible argument. In this matter Mrs. Russell quietly told her husband that his opposition to Lieutenant Templeton's steamer attentions seemed rather strained. The man held a position -of honor, and was well spoken of by every one who knew of him among the passengers, and as he would doubtless soon have his own affairs to attend to, it was not likely they would be in any way embar- rassed by him. Mr. Russell was not convinced, but he was silenced, and as Maud, who was really very fond of her new- made friend, was wise and prudent enough to avoid any scene that might annoy her father, there was no further cause of trouble on the voyage. Templeton was a brave officer and a bad man. In the service he was esteemed for the qualities that endure under privation and trial. He had won his way unfavored by politicians, the bane of every j public department, and his theory of life had condens- ed into one hard maxim: Let every man take care of himself. With all his bravery and pluick, in spite of his good THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 75. nature and happy-go-lucky manner, he had a weak- ness. He loved money. No man ever made fortune honestly in the service of"his country. Templeton was not morally above certain grades of dishonesty, but he had never been in position to take or speculate, or falsely audit; he had his pay, and a very meagre-income from the estate of his adopted father ; but the most rigid economy would not make him rich, and he hated economy. He was about twenty-six years of age, and at a time when most men are trustful and genuine, had become suspicious and deceitful. He deliberately planned his future, basing it on a marriage with money-give him the money, and the rest he was willing to risk. He saw Maud, he liked her; he thought her the daughter of the rich manufacturer, and believing her to be his heir, resolved to win her. Introductions at sea are easily obtained, and when Miss Russell and Lieutenant Templeton bade each other '" good-night," after their first introduction, they were as well acquainted as many people would be only after many years of friendship. Maud was a queer combination of prudence and indiscretion. She had just passed her eighteenth birthday, was bright, sweet-face, and elegant in man- ner. She had the air of a beauty and the innocence page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS. of a pet; she idolized her mother, and Mr. -Russell had found in her the most loving of children. But she was fond of admiration, and so fond of it that a close observer could see that She catered for it. Some men and women are born flirts, and flaunt their purposes before the public eye, careless of the world, and reckless of its opinion, so long as their own "good time " is assured. Maud was not one of those. She shrank from vulgarity of manner, or vulgarity in. display, as quickly and as naturally as from rudeness of speech. And yet there was a curious boldness about her which manifested itself in an over desire to please, the motive being, whether she knew it or not, to gain thereby the flattering income so grateful to her. She was as gracious to the steward as to the cap- tain; she met the detective with the same smile that beamed on Templeton. Compliments pleased her, come from where they might. And if a beautiful face, a distinguished air, and a kind heart with a winning smile, would not elicit compliments in society,; what would? She had had but little attention at home; indeed, there were but half a dozen families in the town, and the Russells, though well-informed and living in good style, were not on visiting terms with the older county families. Still Maud knew something of life, and her regular IS,;. THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 7 trip to London brought her more and more, year after year, into the cauldron of social excitement. She read some, was fond of music, played the piano toler- ably well, rode dashingly, and was esteemed an ac- quisition at the parties she attended. Of course she received at such times much atten- tion. Every woman has more or less of it, and it is by no manner of means determined either in quality or quantity by the prettiness of the face. There- are thousands of doll-featured girls who go through life without attention; and in what circle do we not find a plain face thetecipient of all the courtesy aid civil- ity possible. It is evidently what there is behind the face that attracts. However, Maud was very beautiful- and'winning as well. Her manner was. bright and jolly, her heart sunny, her general air that of contentment. She was greatly pleased with the attentions of her friends, but she had never met a friend who had taken such per- fect and all-absorbing possession of her as William Templeton. He seemed to know by intuition what were her desires, and he never hesitated to gratify them. In spite of the dislike of Mr. Russell, Mr. Temple- ton found frequent opportunities to be with Maud on the steamer, and when they reached New York, although no formal engagement had been made, both page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] ;NAKE IN THE GRASS. felt that their betrothal was but a question of time and" prudence. As they sat together on the sofa, Maud becoming apprehensive of her father's return, said: "' WTy can't we go out for a walk or a drive ? It is so long since I have seen you, and I have so much to say to you." Templeton was only too glad to go. He rang the bell, ordered a carriage, and Maud went to her room. The Lieutenant believed Maud to be not only the daughter, but the only child of Mr. Russell, who always spoke of her and to her as " daughter," so that her remark about the "little boy" meant more to Maud's lover than she could have imagined, or he would care to have known. He was very fond of Maud, but fond or not, he had determined to marry her, and thus gain her father'l wealth. Presently she appeared, perfectly equipped, and leaving the Hotel by the i8th street exit, entered the carriage and drove off towards the Park. "Maud, tell me about this 'little boy's' busi- ness," said Mr. Templeton. What is it, who is he, any way, and how is it I never heard about him be- fore ?" "Well, I declare, Will, that's rather a long string of questions, :I should say," replied she; "but as we have plenty of time, and you are so good as to THE SNAKE IN THE ,,GRASS. 79 give me this delightful drive, I'll tell you all about it. And then, too, if you only could help us, papa would love you just as I do." She then gave Templeton a narration of the story so familiar to her and the reader, and by the time they had reached the Mt. St. Vincent Hotel in the Park, he had mastered it all, and was quite prepared to say to Maud : 'Suppose we stop here for an ice;" and to himself, "this is just precisely my luck. I only wanted this to make assurance doubly sure. Three cheers for me-and the ' little boy!' ' page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] CHAPTER XIII. A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. - [M ' HE evening of this bright summer day was full of events. 1 - I. 'Lieut. Templeton had secured a pledge from Maud Russell, that she would consider herself his betrothed, and him, her accepted lover. As yet, and indeed until Mr. Russell's antipathy could be conquered, the engagement was to be secret from her family. ' 2. Detective Hardy had made his report to the Russells, and found to his surprise that the stern, quiet-mannered -Englishman, was a perfect fire of enthusiasm, kindled into flame, and outhurst by the meagre story the detective had to tell of his morning's gleanings. 3, Mr. Russell had outlined a plan of operations, including an immediate trip to the West, the offer of a large reward through the Chicago police, and such other operation as a review of the ground might suggest.', 4. And last, but by no means least, Maud in her A TERRIBLE TEMPTA TIOr. 8 good-night letter to her lover, wrote to Templeton every word reported to Mr. Russell by the -detective, as well as the entire programme for the future. Bidding Mr. Russell and the ladies good-night, and promising to taike the anxious father to see Mrs. Foster early the next day, John Hardy pulled his soft hat oyer his eyes, lit a cigar, and moved slowly down 4th avenue. Just as he reached I4th street, he was accosted by a gentleman, who, touching him on the shoulder said: "I beg: your pardon, sir; are you Detective Hardy?" There was no reason for Hardy's denying his name. and yet his professional caution was on the alert, and his suspicions were aroused. Hstly glancing at his companion, he was about to answer, when the light from a street lamp disclosed the handsome features and- manly figure of Lieut. Templeton. The detec- tive placed him at once, but pretending not to, replied: "Yes, sir, that's my name. What of it?" "That depends," rejoined Templeton. "If you have -half an hour to spare, come with me, and we will discuss a matter of some interest to both of us- and perhaps of profit. 'Where shall we go-Del- monico's?" "No Delmonico's for me!" said Hardy. ' That'll do well enough for pleasure. If you want to talk business, where you can be as noisy as a Bedlamite% or as quiet as Greenwood, come with me." page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] 82 A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. "I'll do it," said Templeton; and he did. A short ride on a 4th avenue car-Aok them to Houston street, and a shorter walk led them to the door of Harry Hill's noted resort for all sorts and sizes of pleasure seekers of New York and vicinity. Passing through Hill's wonderful stable, where he keeps trick ponies,educated dogs, and wonderful sheep, 'tl and through the dimly lighted bar-room, they reached a flight, of stairs which led to the concert-room, Templeton had never been there before, and -wanted to linger; but to the detective it was an old story, and calling Harry Hill, a stout built, cheery faced Englishman, to him said: "Harry, this gentle- man and I have a little matter of business to talk over. Let me have the use of your parlor for a few moments : that's a good fellow." Harry Hill took a good look at Iardy'! compan- ion, shook his head as if half in doubt, and preceded the two to the room. The average man living in New York knows about Harry Hill's saloon; its Punch and Judy, it's dancers, and singers, and boxing matches; its free and easy opportunities for safely seeing a great deal of what young men call " life ;" and the fact that it is one of the regular " shows" of the city. But probably not one in five hundred of Harry Hill's visitors could correctly picture even the outer characteristics of the proprietor's inner home. \ A TERRIBLE TEMPTA TION. 83 Pictures of prize-fighters, fancy sketches of noted boxers, bronze horses, flash story-books, foils and gloves, brass knuckles and billies were the parapher-. nalia which rose before- Templeton's mind, when he thought of the probable adornments of the home of Hill. As matter of fact what Templeton saw was as follows: Two very fair specimens of Kaulbachs skill, several fine photographs, and one or two admirable English engravings hung on the walls; in one corner was a small boudoir book-case bear- ing standard literature from the Bible to Hume, from the- book of Common Prayer, to Byron and Thackeray; in another a larger table and desk, fitted with writing materials, and ornamented by curious Japanese ware; in the centre was a handsome round table, with books and cigar case, while two doors opening outward disclosed a dressing-room and a bed- chamber. Templeton was astonished. Mr. Hill saw the look, and smiling, said: "A trade's a trade, my friend. "Arry 'll1's one thing'ere and another there. That's all," and shutting the door left the two men to their business. Neither cared to begin, but Hardy, lighting a fresh cigar, threw himself on a lounge, and Templeton was forced to take the initiative. "Mr. Hardy," said he, "I am a friend of the Russells, and aware of their plans. They are in A* : .1 page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 84 A TERRIBLE TEIPTA TION. search of a little boy Mr. Russell lost some twenty years ago. And I am that boy." ' ,i WHAT!" cried Hardy, and jumping from his seat like a greyhound, banged his hand heavily on the table, and stared through Templeton's eyes down to his very soul. "Don't make a noise, man," continued the Lieu- tenant, "you would do yourself greater credit if you listened. I say, I am that lost boy, and you can prove it--if you care to. Old Russell has heaps of money, and can be bled like an ox, for anything that is genuine. He loved his child, lost him carelessly, left him cruelly, and mourns him sincerely. I know he would spend $Ioo,ooo to find that Son. And I think if you were to find him, your fortune would be insured. Now listen. I can satisfy you that I am Russell's son, and your business will be to convince him. Is it a bargain?" For a moment Hardy was nonplussed. He had met many rascals in his police experience, and had worked out many a plot, but the cool impudence and suicidal audacity of this putter-up of villainy, eclipsed all previous examples of the, kind. He thought rapidly, and concluded it would be well "to lay in" with Templeton until the plan was ripe. Nothing could be gained by bluffing him'; much might be learned by pretending to work with him. After a brief pause, he said: /-I A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 85 "I don't know you, sir. Are you quite certain you can satisfy me?" "Of course I can," replied Templeton with a cun- ning smile; " of course I can, and I'll agree to put it off for six months too. How will that suit your royal highness?" "Perfectly," rejoined Hardy; "you have my -ad- dress. I shall be in town two or three days} and then we're off to Chicago. Come in and see me when you're ready to talk- finally;--and now let's see what Harry has to show us to-night." Together they passed into the, saloon, and taking seats at one of the little round tables, made part of a large and laughing audience, listening to the jokes and songs of the character-people on the stage of Harry Hill's. page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] CHAPTER XIV. FIRE, FIRE, FIRE. THAT night Horace Russell seemed a boy again. Long after his customary hour of retiring, he walked his parlor, talked ear- nestly and rapidly of his plans, read and reread the shocut from the papers of twenty years back by his former wife, told for the one hundredth time the story of little Harry's loss, and worked himself and Mrs. Russell into a state of excitement bordering on frenzy. Maud had long since kissed them both good-night, and went to her room to write to her lover. With her long, soft tresses hanging over the bed, she was a pretty picture, when her mother, entering the room, found her on her kneeslin prayer. FoldiDg her in her loving arms, Mrs. Russell said: "Darling, don't think to deceive your mother. You are more dteeply interested in Lieutenant Templeton than you care to confess. Tell me, darling, is it not so? and if so, let me know exactly how you feel, and what your relations are with him. Conceal nothing from your best friend. Tell your mother all." FIRE, FIRE, FIRE. 87. 8 laud, as, we have seen, was bright and quick, even pert and almost forward at times, but she was truth itscif in speech, and this one secret of her heart was all she had ever sought to keep from the mother she idolized, and. for whom nothing could be good enough. She had promised Templeton to be his wife, and to keep her promise secret. What should she do between her mother and her lover. Right was with the mother, but might seemed to be with the lover. "Has he told you that he loves you, dear?" said Mrs. Russell. "I know he does," evaded Maud. "And how does my darling know so much?" continued Mrs. Russell, as she pushed a little closer to the citadel; "did he tell you to look in his heart and see?" "No, darling mamma," replied the girl, "he didn't say that, but please, malmma, don't ask me any more questions. I cannot tell you; really, H cannot say another word. I do love him, mamma. He's as brave and noble as he can be, and he loves me so dearly. Don't be angry, mamlma darling. Don't be angry. We can wait, you know, ever so long; and besides'he's going to help find little Harry. He said he would, and he will; and if he only could findd him v F # , , page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 FIRE, FIRE, FIRE. and make papa happy, what a splendid thing it would be for all of us. And he likes you too, mamma!" "Mrs. Russell smiled faintly at her daughter's en. ' thusiasm; but, taking her head in her arms, she pressed her warmly to her heart, apprehensive for the future, for she knew the feelings and passions and bitter prejudice of her husband. "Come, my dear," called Mr. Russell from the parlor, "you mustn't keep daughter awake all night. Let her go to sleep. Good-night again, little girl." Mrs. Russell rejoined her husband in his planning, and -it was quite one o'clock ere the consultation ended, and even then they were undecided whether it was better to go to Chicago, or start the search in New York city itself. The entire hotel was resting quietly at three o clock in the morning, when the cry of "Fire'! Fire!" startled the sleep), watchman on the corner of the avenue, and a policeman, who was resting against the iron rail, actually knocked three times for help before he opened his eyes. Smoke was rushing in volumes from the upper win- dows. The story below that was in flames.- Clerks ran hastily through the house to arouse the people, servants were driven from their rooms in the attic, children were bundled out of the house, and efforts were made to save the baggage of the guests. The adjacent streets fairly hummed with excitement. f l FIRE, FIRE, FIRE. 89 Crowds thronged about the firemen, the engines puffed and snorted and whistled, while the quick buzz of the wheels made merry music on the air. If there is any one thing existing which resembles a fully developed, fiery devil with wings of flame and a blazing tail, it is a modern fire engine as it flies to the scene of disaster, with its bells and whistle, and steam, and smoke, and screams, and dash of speed along the streets. Half a dozen of these wonderful machines were at work, and the conflagration was largely under con- trol. Still the building was burning, and great clouds of smoke overhung it and permeated every room. Mr. Russell had been, for many years, in the habit of waking very early in the morning. As regularly as the seasons in their course, Horace Russell rose every morning of his life at three, looked over at his mills, drank half a glass of water, looked at the mills again, and resumed his sleep. When at sea, his mind worked the same way. And in pursuance of this habit, he woke on this morning just as the porter in the lower hall discovered the smoke. By the time the other guests were fair'ly awake, Mr. Russell had his wife and Maud down- stairs, and was hurrying them into the street, when Maud, eluding his hand, slipped. by him and ran in the direction of their rooms. Half wild with fear, Russell did not at first know * page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 9o FIRE, FIRE, FIRE. what to do; finally, and quickly, however, he gave his wife in charge of an officer, and directed her to walk -down toward the Everett House, while he flew to find Maud. The halls and staircase were flooded 'with smoke. Guests rushed down-stairs half-dressed, with such things as they had hastily caught up. The hotel people were shouting and directing. The police were in the way as usual, and the firemen worked like heroes. If ever men earned their pay, these fire laddies of the paid department earn theirs, and ought to have it promptly. Blind with the smoke, half paralyzed with apprehen- sion for Maud's safety, and really anxious about her mind, Mr. Russell felt his way to their apartments. They were filled with dense, -black, stifling smoke. Groping to the window, he stumbled and fell on the body of his adopted daughter. Desperate, and half conscious only, he instinctively grasped her in his powerful airms, and sought the door. Had he overestimated his strength? Possibly, but not his love. Love for the dear girl who had caressed his weari- ness to sleep at the close of many an anxious day, who had brought sunshine, to his heavy heart in many- a timne of gloom, gave him inspiration, and he achieved in an automatic way, half heedless of what he was about, an act of. heroism which, under other circum- FIRE, FIRE, FIRE. 91 stances and for another person, would have made him famous. Staggering towards the door he fell. Half rising, he dragged the unconscious girl on and down the single flight of stairs separating their apartments from the ground floor, step by step, till together they attracted the attention of men at the entrance, and the cheery voice of John Hardy said: "Brace up, Mr. Russell, brace up, old man; it's all right, brace up." And he did brace up, but, overcome with smoke and excitement, fell exhausted on the stones. Hardy had turned for a moment to give some direc- tions to his partner, as they called the detective who worked with him, but seeing that Mr. Russell coild no more " brace up " than Maud could jump up, he extemporized a litter for them both, and had them carried along through the crowd down to the Everett House, where Mrs. Russell had ordered rooms, and was waiting pluckily to meet them. Mr. Russell soon revived, and after a glass of brandy felt quite like himself, and wanted to see Maud. But Maud had been put to bed, and in her hand, tight grasped, her mother found the cause of her re- turn to, her room--a little gold brooch in which was 'a picture and a lock of curly hair. The picture was Templeton's; so was the hair. page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] CHAPTER XV. TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. HE next morning, Mrs. Russell, overcome with excitement and fatigue, slept late; and Mfiaud, who had been tended during the night by her mother, rested at her side. The detective called at ten o'clock, and finding Mr. Russell in the reading room, -was surprised and delighted at: his freshness and vigor. Together they walked to the Clarendon, arranged for a transfer of the luggag:ewhich was irf no way injured, and then, in pursuance of their agreement, drove to see Matron Foster at the Tombs. The good woman was very cordial in her greeting, and gladly rehearsed the story of little "Bob," adding that it would be the happiest day of her life when she could see him restored to his father's arms. Mr. Russell was deeply affected both by the story and the interest Mrs. Foster exhibited in the fate of the child; but he, did not conceal from himself the great improbability of a successful search for a boy Y TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 93 whose life for twenty years had been withdrawn from his knowledge, nor the greater improbability that "Bob " should in reality be the Harry of his heart. Nevertheless, in the absence of other suggestion, he determined to adhere to his scheme, and go with Hardy to Chicago, even if Maud and her mother were unable to leave the city. After an interested examination of the prison, Mr. Russell bade Mrs. Foster "good-morning," and, accor-. panied by the detective, turned towards the ;oor, when, quick as a flash, the sturdy officer dashed into a reception room' just inside the iron gate and rail. As he did so, Lieutenant Templeton handed a pass to the gate keeper, and walked over- towards the female prison. "Did you see that man?" said Hardy. "No," replied Mr. Russell. "That is, I did, and I did not. I saw some one come in, but was so thunderstruck by your rushing off that I paid no attention to him I Why, who is he?" "That's just what I want to find out?" rejoined Hardy. "You go on to the hotel; wait there until you see me. Just take the yellow car, tell the con- ductor to let you out at the Everett House, and you're all right. Excuse me now; every minute's an hour." Mr. Russell did not precisely see the force of what Hardy said, but though somewhat dubious in his mind page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " . TROUBLE IN THE rHOUSEHOLD. as to the propiety of the young man's conduct, did as he was directed, and soon regained the hotel. Hardy went at once to Warden Quinn's room, borrowed a uniform, put on a belt and cap, and with baton swinging from his wrist, re-entered the prison yard, and walked quietly over to the Matron's office. Fortunately he met her as she was leaving the wash- house. Accosting her, he said: "Don't start, Mrs. Foster; I'm Hardy, the detective. I have a point to make here. There's a; gentleman in your room who wants to see you. If I happen to seem rather curious, take no notice of me. I'm on business." The sagacious woman twinkled her eyes in token of comprehension, and quickly entered her office. As she did so, Lieut. Templeton rose from his seat, and advancing with great politeness, extended his hand, bowed,' and said: "This is my old friend, Matron Foster, at last. And not a bit changed, either. How kind you were to me, and how often, when a boy, I added to my lisping prayer,' God bless Mamma Foster.' Do you not remember me?" "Remember you? ' said Mrs. Foster. "No, I don't. How should I? I never saw you- before. What do you mean?" Mrs. Foster is no fool. She has had her eye-teeth cut these many years. She is sympathetic, but not at all credulous. Real suffering elicits her condo- lence and aid; but bogus complaints could never TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 95 frring a tear from her, if they. were to try a thousand years. She didn't "take" to this honey-dripping gentle- man. He was altogether too grateful, and his grati- tude came rather late in life. Had he found her at last? Why, for thirty years she had not left her post! Every day of every year she had opened and shut her room. She is never sick; never away; vacations are an unknown quantity to her, and as for sleep- well, they do say she never sleeps; but that is prob- ably not so. "No, I don't remember you. Who are you?" said the robust Matron. "Who am I? Why, I am little 'Bob,"' said Templeton. "Surely you remember little 'Bob' to whom you were so kind in this very room, now twenty years ago." "Little I Bob'!" cried Mrs. Foster; " little ' Bob!' little fiddlesticks! My little ' Bob' had no such snake eyes as you've got, nor such hair, nor such-oh, don't bother me.- If that's what you came here for, you've lost your time. I don't know you, and I don't want to." "But hear me, madam; I have proofs of what I say," said Templeton, now thoroughly alarmed. "And it. may be worth money to you to help me, tdb. I have reason to believe I have found my dear father, and your aid is indispensable to me." page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] 96 TR O UBLE IN THE tHOUSEfHOLD. Just at this juncture, John Hardy, in policeman's dress, appeared at the door. "Here, officer," said Mrs. Foster, "just tramp this party out of here. He's made a mistake. He belongs in the male prison, I guess, and if he had his deserts 'he'd go there." Hardy raised his cap. Templeton looked up quickly, turned black as his boot, .and muttering a curse, hurried rapidly by his tormenter toward the gate. Hardy stopped him by a whistle, and then taking him into the Warden's office, said : "Mr. Templeton, I give you just four hours in which to leave New York. If I catch you here after that, I'll go for you; and what that means you know. Now, get out." And he got out, right away. That evening Mr. and Mrs. Russell were dining in their parlor, and Maud, still very weak, was reclining on a lounge, thinking of Templeton, longing to see or hear from him, and wondering how it could be pos- sible for her to convey to him information of her situation, and the necessity of his being content not to see her until 'she should be able to get out and about, when a servant handed Mr. Russell a letter. Not having seen the detective since his singular conduct at the Tombs, Mr.. Russell was wondering why he did not hear from him, when the letter was T2ROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 97 brought ,in. Without looking at the address, Mr. Russell broke the seal. He read a sentence, turned the page, read again, and then, with a face white with rage, went to the door, opened it, shut it, looked at the feeble girl upon the lounge, and sank despondingly in his chair. Maud's eyes were closed; her soul was with Tem- pleton. But her,nlmother saw her husband's passion, and knew that nothing but his love for Maud kept him quiet. "What is it, Horace?" said she. "Read that," said he; "read that, and see what an infernal scoundrel you've cherished between you. Oh, that I had him here! Oh, that I had him here!" His raised and excited voice roused Maud from her reverie. She, too, knew her father's ungoverned passions and trembled when she saw them upon him. Her sweet voice rarely failed to calm him, and her gentle caresses were many a time and oft the balmn which brought peace and comfort to a disturbed circle and a troubled mind. "Why, papa darling," said she, half rising from her position; "what has happened? Don't look so black; tell me, papa, what is it?" "What is it?" replied Mr. Russell. ,( What is it? You're it. Your mother's it. Heaven only knows 5 page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 98 TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. , who isn't it. I must think this out. It puzzles me. I can't understand it. I leave you together. When I return,' I must and shall know all." Without another word the angry man left the room. And he left two sad, and crushed, and sorrowful hearts as well. The mother, heart-sick for her daughter; and the daughter, conscious only that something terrible had happened, but what she knew not. As the door closed, Mrs. Russell caught her daugh- ter in her arms and, wild with grief and apprehension, said : "Sweetest, you cannot wonder at your father's anger, nor, at his anxiety. 'This letter is from Lieut. Templeton to his betrothed bride. Thinkcof it." "Give it to me, mother," laid Maud; "how dared he open it. Mother, give it to me;!"-but she could go no further. Her mother bathed her head, and kissed and sooth- ed the young girl's temper down. Then together they read THE LETTER. FIFTH AVENUE HOTEL, NEW YORK, August 21, 1873. "Maud, my darling, nmy own betrothed, I have but' a moment to write you and I have volumes to- tell you. I have heard, darling, of your night of peril, and although I cannot see you, I understand that you -are quite well, though weak to-day. I have to leave town at . . TROUBLE IN THE HO USEHOLD. once. Danger, of which I cannot safely write, threat- ens me. I had hoped to be of service to your father, x. but it cannot be. I leave, and leave at once. Con- sider, darling, my proposal. You are virtually my wife. Why can you not be so absolutely? . If you are strong enough; and can manage to elude the vigilance of your over-anxious mother for an hour do so, and meet me in the corridor near the ladies' entrance. I will be prepared with a carriage, and in half an hour's time my. sweet-heart will be my bride,--my darling will be nmy wife. I beg you will not, at this crisis, hesitate or yield to scruples which can only delay what must hap- pen sooner or later. You love me, do you not? Then prove it. Bear in mind, darling, that I must leave town. Shall I go alone? . And if so, may I not at' least carry the picture of my wife with me? I can think of no mode by which I can be informed of your purpose, so I will, at all events, go to the rendezvous, and trust to the promptings of your loving heart for a favorable response. And till then, sweet one, dar- ling, adieu. "Ever yours, "W. T." "Great Heavens! Papa will meet him, and"-- Again Maud fainted, and her thoroughly frightened mother threw water and lavished kisses upon her until, page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] oo TROUBLE IN HRE HOUSEHOLD. half dead with fear, she opened her eyes, and whisper- ed, "Save him, save him!" Mrs. Rssell was not a woman of the world, nor a society-woman in any sense. She was born in New York City, and at the age of thirty-four was a widow, with a daughter six years old. With the child she went to Europe, traveled two years, met Horace Rus- sell, then a widower, at the house of a London friend, and at the time of the present occurrence, had been Mrs. Horace Russell ten years. She was a clear-headed, kind-hearted woman, very fond and proud of her husband, and idolatrously de- voted to her daughter. Like her daughter, she was the incarnation of truth, and nothing of whatever moment or consequence had ever been, or could ever be, a temptation to one or the other to swerve even by a look from the line of perfect veracity. But here was her daughter-and there was her hus- band. Without a word, she kissed Maud on the forehead, left the room, and passing quickly down the private stairway, stood near the ladies' entrance, her figure partially concealed by the curtain of a window. Would he never come? Moments seemed ages, and her courage was oozing fast when the well known form of Lieut. Templeton appeared at the head of the staircase. A slight movement of the curtain attracted his watch- TROUBLE IN THE HOUSEHOLD. 101 ful attention and, in a moment, he was at the side-not of the loving daughter, but-of the indignant mother. It was a study for an artist. But there was no artist there; only two embarrass- ed and mutually anxious individuals, neither one know- ing precisely what to do or say. Presently Mrs. Russell, with fire flashing from her eyes, said: "Mr. Templeton, we thought you were a gentleman. We find we were mistaken. For my daughter's sake, and that there may be no scene be- tween you and my husband, I came here to tell you you that we decline all further acquaintance with you, and to assure you that no member of our family has the slightest desire to see you again. Now go, and go quickly, unless you care to meet Mr. Russell, for there he comes, and with himl the detective." Without a word, Templetoh, who was thoroughly alarmed, hurried away, while Mrs. Russell quietly re- gained her room, and drawing Maud's arm through hers, gently led her heart-broken daughter to the privacy of their chamber-and what passed there, we may imagine, but certainly cannot know. e page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] CHAPTER XVI. WHAT NEXT? THE PROGRAMME. ]ras rHEN Mr. Russell so abruptly left his wife and Maud in the parlor, he had no definite plan before him, but having read enough of Templeton's letter to get a general idea of love and an engagement, and. oily so much, he saw the abso- lute necessity of his being alone for a few moments, ere he trusted himself to speak. He understood his own passionate nature thorough- ly, and being very anxious about Maud's physical condition, wisely and kindly checked his outhurst and simply left the room. His meeting with Hardy at the door was purely ac- cidental, and without alluding either to Templeton or, his letter, Mr. Russell entered at once upon a discus- sion of their Chicago plan, as -together they passed within twenty feet of his wife, on their way to the general parlor. Hardy was in trouble. \: THE PROGRAMME. Io03 He had seen but little of Mr. Russell, but he liked him, and was interested in his mission. Still he knew so little of the man, that he was in doubt as to the ad- visability of telling him about Templeton's proposal at Harry Hill's, and the expose at the Tombs. The detective felt competent to manage Templeton in any scheme he might attempt, and as yet knew noth- ing of the condition of affairs in the family. He had seen Maud and Templeton together and had noticed the warmth of their greeting, but the only thought suggested by that, was the difference between Temple- ton's social opportunity and his own--a thought which had often made him curse the world, which, even in republican America, is disposed to be sensitive on'so- cial points. Hardy's maxim was: "When in doubt, hold your tongue;" and, being in doubt, he obeyed that teaching, believing that if at any time it became necessary to bluff, outwit or confront the plotter, he + had the game in his own hands. Unsuspicious, then, of Templeton's design upon his fortune, Mr. Russell, as calmly as he could, canvassed the possibilities of a search at the West, while Hardy, uninformed of the new development that had upset the peace and harmony of his employer, quietly aided him. During the interview, Hardy presented this programme for Mr. Russell's action, as the best he could, after consultation with the Chief, suggest: page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] Oo4 THKE PROGRAMMRE. THE PROGRAMME. I. Obtain official letters of introduction from the mayor and police to the Chicago authorities. 2.1Obtain personal letters to people of prominence from the New York correspondents of Mr. Rus- sell's mills. 3. Go to Chicago with Hardy, secure a local detec- tive, offer privately or through the press, a small reward for information, leaving all negotiations, in the hands of Hardy and the western officer, and then be guided by circumstances. ' That's not very long," remarked Hardy, ' but it's the boilings dowp of many an hour's thought. The old man has given time and consideration to this matter astonishingly. If ever you want to interest Matsell, just connect your subject with something that oc- curred twenty or thirty years ago, and he'll jump in lively." "Well," replied Mr. Russell, "it seems sensible. The only point is that we seem to be giving up New York altogether. This '-Bob' search may be a farce and result in a fizzle. If so, we waste our time and throw away our money-although, to be frank about it, money is really no object. Do you know, Hardy, that boy of mine would be, must be, twenty-five years old now; just about as old as you, and I fancy I would like to find him as true and sensible a man as you ap. ' - ; ' THE PROGRANMME. Io5 pear to be. God knows I have but the one wish upon my heart. I miss him all the time; I think of him, dream of him, talk to him-but always as my baby, my Harry boy of twenty years gone by. "Come, come, this won't do; I'll see Mrs. Russell and the doctor. As soon as they say Maud may travel, off we go. "Now, Hardy, I need hardly assure you of my earnestness in this life-work. I trust you. In any event your reward shall be ample; but if we succeed, your heart's desire shall be granted--I'll make you rich and independent for life. Now go, my friend, learn all you can from the prison people, and get all needed letters jfrom Mr. Matsell; I'll attend to the rest. Good night." Hardy bade Mr. Russell "good night," and Mr. Russell went to get it. He found the gas brightly burning in the parlor, and the door of Maud's room shut. He-entered his own chamber. The bed was undisturbed; evidently his wife was with her daughter. Knocking gently at Maud's door, Mr. Russell waited for an answer. None came. He softly opened the door and on tip-tqe ap- proached the bed. Fast asleep in her mother's arms lay the beautiful girl, with flushed cheek and eyelids wet with tears. Mrs. Russell's eyes were wide open, but she dared 3* page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] I06 WHAT NEXT ON THE PROGRAMME. not stir lest Maud should be disturbed. She saw love in her husband's smile, and' as he bent over her to press a father's kiss upon the " daughter " of his heart, though not of his race, Mrs. Russell whispered: "Good night, father; I will stay with Maud-she is very nervous, but all will be well. Good night." For a moment Horace laid his hand upon her brow, then kissed her tenderly, and, without a word, left the weary and the comforter- together. . ,t ce. CHAPTER XVII THE SCENE SHFTS. THE TEMPTER AT WORK. IEUT.. TEMPLETON drove quickly to 13 the Fifth Avenue Hotel, purchased a through ticket for Chicago by the morning express, paid his bill and left orders to be called in time for breakfast and the train. The evening he occupied in looking through all his papers, and deliberating as to what was best for him to do with his commission. He was liable at any hour to be ordered on duty, and resignation after the receipt of orders would not be tolerated: or rather it would subject him to such criticism in naval circles as he would not care to brave. 5And then, too, it must be borne in mind that Templeton was not so foolish in his ordinary life as he has showrn himself in dealing with Hardy. He doubtless believed that the average policeman, of whom Hardy was a type, had only to be approached, to be secured. A bribe, he thought, would never be refused unless it were too small, and page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] log TH:E TEMPTER AT WORK. he had purposed making his offer to Hardy so tempt. ing as to be irresistible. He failed. What Hardy, or the average officer rpight do under some circumstances we know not, but Templeton's manner was unfortunate ; his time was badly chosen, his plan was too startling-and, besides, the detective had warmed towards Mr. Russell, and the sweet face of Maud was constantly before his eyes. Having failed with Hardy, Templeton's next hope was to work on Maud's affections through her fear for his personal safety, induce her to marry him, and : then leave or take her with him, as might seem best at the time. He failed in that also. Had the letter been handed to Maud, it is quite certain she would have met her lover; and had she gone, weak, nervous and unsettled as she was, it is more than probable she would have yielded to his im portunities, and placed herself at his disposal; and brought desolation on her mother's heart. From that she was spared, but at what a cost! Failing in his second endeavor, Lieut. -Temple- ton bethought him of a third and better scheme. He knewMr. Russell perfectly. And he was well in- formed of the plans, as arranged in general by Hardy and Russell before the morning of the fire. With this in mind he was discussing the advisability of re- THE TEMPTER AT WORK. log signing his commission in the service, that he might risk all he had in one desperate venture-a claim to the right and title of Horace Russell's son. He took time to think of it, and pondered it well before he decided. He then wrote his resignation and had it mailed at once. His trunks were packed, his travelling preparations made, his bed ready. And he slept like a boy till the porter called him to rise. In due time, Templetop reached Chicago and on the following, day placed himself in communication with the detective office at police headquarters. Securing an introduction, through a hotel clerk, to Charles Miller, or, as he was there more familiarly known, "One-eyed Charley," he made an appointment , with him at the hotel, at which time, as he told him, he would lay before him a matter directly in the de- tective's line of business, and in which there was " big money." One-eyed Charley was a character, and not alto- 'gether a good one. He was very much esteemed by his superiors, his intuition being remarkably clear and his experience great. He knew all the regular thieves and professional men well. His twenty years' deal- ing with the counterfeiters, and burglars, and minor rascals of the Mississippi Valley had educated him to + page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] IO THE TEMPTER AT WORK. a point of sharpness and Cleverness that entitled him to higher rank in the office than he ever held, but he had risen as far as he could, for gin was his failing, . and rum was his delight. Ha lf the number of sprees in which Miller indulged would have "broken " a less useful man. He knew it, and accepted his lot without a murmur. - It was rumored, now and then, that there were other potent reasons for the lack of promotion, but they never rose J above a whisper; for much as men might suspect fear of Miller's vengeance kept-the tongues of his bit2 terest enemies quiet. - He had two daughters, the only living beings for X..o whom he cared the value of a rush--for whom he sav.- ed what bhe could; and that was by no means incon. siderable. ( Physically, he was ugly. . His head was well cover- ed with a reddish thatch; in a fight he had lost his left eye; his face was badly marked with traces of small-pox, and in stature he was tall when he sat, and short when he stood. ' Morally he was queer; he be- lieved. in no Gdd, no heaven, no hell, no future of any kind; his motto was " keep all you get, and get all you can."' Mentally, he was shrewd and quick; shrewd enough to sqee that, in his business, honesty, as a rule, was much the best policy, and quick enough to see when he might safely serve a dishonest purpose with profit to himself. t. THE TEMPTER AXT WORK. I I And this was the man who called on Lieut. William Templeton at his elegant apartments, in pur- suance of an agreement made at the general office. Templeton saluted Miller, as he entered the room, with: "How are you, my friend ; what will you take to drink?" "Well, sir," replied the detective, "I don't mind-a stiff rum and gum, after we've finished our talk; but if you mean business, defer the refreshments till busi- ' ess is done. My chief clerk is my brain, and liquor is his worst enemy." "All right," said Templeton, "as you say; but you surely will let your chief clerk have the flavor of a good cigar under his nose, won't you?" "Yes. I don't object to that; but I really think as how that curious creature would very much prefer a pipe, if it's handy," rejoined Miller; and, suiting the action to the word, drew from his pocket a comnfon clay pipe, filled it with " horse cut," lit it, and puffed vigorously. "Now, young man, as the widder said, pitch in, and what you've got to say, out with it." Templeton eyed him closely. Under any circumstances he would have done so, but his experience with Hardy had taught him a les- son, and he meant to profit by it. He eyed him closely, and concluded he would do. Miller preten led not to notice the scrutiny, but he / ! * 'H page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] II2 - THE TEMPTER AT WOR K. saw it all, and made up his mind that there was devil- try in the air, and he meant to profit by it. Pulling from his pocket a huge wallet filled with papers, Templeton settled himself in his chair and opened the ball. "Mr. Miller," saif he, "I have a long story to tell you, and I want'you to listen to it carefully, profes- sionally, and in my interest. To that end I hereby retain you, and ask, is it a bargain?" With this he laid five $20o bills upon the table, pushed them over to Miller, and waited for his'-reply. Miller puffed quickly; counted the bills carefully, stuffed them in his vest pocket, nodded to Templeton, and simply said, "Go ahead." i.. CHAPTER XVIII.- TEMPLETON S STORY. NTIL yesterday," began Templeton, ' I was a lieutenant in the navy. My resignation was forwarded last week, and last night's mail brought me official notice of its acceptance. I' see you think a man who has so pleasant a berth is foolish to get out of it. Well, possibly, but I have two strong motives, and one equally a motive but not so strong. "First, I want money. "Second, I want a father. , "Third, I want a wife. ' The way to- each and all of these, I believe, lies through my resignation, whereby I am left free to prosecute a plan, in the outwork of which I need your -aid. "Don't misunderstand my position. I am not poor. In, any event I can abundantly compensate you. My game is higher and my prize greater. "Who I am, no one knows. page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] I l4 - TEMPLETONS. STORE "Where I came from, no one can tell. "Imay be the son of a beggar, and I may be heir to one of the largest employers in Great Britain. I have chafed under my assumed name of William Tem- pleton till my mind is sore, and, at times, the very mention of it makes me wild. I hate it. I hate its origin and everything connected with it. "As near as I can make out, I am thirty or thirty-one years of age. I run back connectedly until my tenth year, as follows: thirteen years I have been in the service; four years I was at college and three years I was preparing for college under the protection, and at- the home, of a good-natured Bostonian who found me sick and homeless, andwith no other name than Bill,' in the workhouse. "Prior to that, and young as I was, I had been a ' bum.' Nothing that you know by observation of the life of a homeless boy, can equal what I knew by daily experience. I've been through it all. I blacked boots, sold papers, ran errands, slept under stoops, in ash barrels and over steam escapes, eat when I had food, and bore hunger when I had none. Dirty, half-clad, bare-footed, often- never washed, on the Island in New York, in the Tombs, known to the watch, and often sick, I led the life of a vagabond as long as I can re- nlember." "Well, I'm blowed," interrupted Miller.. Say, stranger, do you know, I like you. Pitch in again." TEMPLETON'S STORY. 115 Templeton who was too much in earnest to smile, or to welcome the interest, proceeded. "I have a vague memory of stowing myself on a schooner, but whether it was accidental or intentional, I don't know, and of being very ill. From then, until I found myself in the hospital of the workhouse near Boston, I recall nothing. I have had of late a pleas- ant life. My associates were gentlemen. Society is always open to a uniform; and then, too, I prided myself on my record. At college, although among the youngest, I ranked well and my protector was so pleased with my general progress that he left me his property when he died, from which I have a small annual income. I see the power of money-and II want to wield it. "I see the advantage of family connection-and I think I see my way to it. "I have met a woman whom I love : and through her boundless love for me, I see the clue to both fam- ily and wealth." "Well, if you've got it all down so fine as this, where do I conme in?" said Miller. "Are you a Mason?" asked Templeton. "No, -ain't," replied the detective; "and I don't want to be. I can keep a secret better than any Mason can, if that's what you mean." "Well, that was not what I meant," rejoined Tem- pleton, who was wondering in his mind whether Hor- page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] I 6 TEMPLETON'S STORY. ace Russell's high rank in Masonry could in anyway baulk his planfs. "ff^ For several minutes neither spoke, and, then, as if . inspired, Miller jumped up, and, resting his two hands on the round table, over which blazed four fan-tailed jets of gas, he looked his companion full in the eye, and said-: "Stranger, there's something on your mind, and you don't do justice to the subject. When you go to a doctor, you tell him just what's the matter, don't you? Well, the/n. And when you go to a lawyer you tell him the whole story, don't you? Web then. Now ,you've come to me. This cash is my/tee. State your case. If I like it, I keep the cash/nd go on. If I don't like it, I keep the cash and strp out. That's all. How old are you, anyhow? Don't be a boy." Templeton smiled at the idea of his being a boy, for he felt as if he had had about two hundred years of experience in,. the ruggedest paths of life, bnit he naturally hesitated to repeat the mistake he had made with Hardy, and preferred to feel his way more cau- tiously with Miller. Fearing to lose a hold on him, however, and with a desperation born of the reckless adventure before him, Templeton determined to lay the case in detail before the detective, and trust to luck to get it wt plausi- bly and successfully. Taking a cigar from its case, he walked to the man- tel, struck a match, lit his weed, and, leisurely return- TEMPLETON'S STORY. I 7 ing to his seat, apparently resumed his narration, as though there had been no interruption. "This woman whom I love," said he," is the daugh- - ter of an enormously wealthy Englishman. His name is Russell. He owns and runs immense mills and fac- tories in the interior of England, and is said to be worth five or six millions. He used to live in Michi- gan, and has, like most men, a romance. Twenty years ago he lost a son in New York, and he is fool enough to believe that he can-find him now. He has no clue to his whereabouts. He knows abso-. lutely nothing of him. He is in New York now, with his wife and daughter, and, before long, is coming to Chicago with a New York detective to look up an old party who was sent out here by the authorities, having with him a boy somewhat answering the description of Mr. Russell's child. Of course he can't find either of 'em--unless we help him! "' I believe I am that boy. "You believe I am that boy. "And we must make him believe I am that boy. "What do you say?" Miller said nothing for a moment, Then he pulled from his pocket an oblong shaped document; and, opening it carefully, read it to the as- tonished Templeton, as follows: page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] I I8 TEMPLETON'S STORY. HEADQUARTERS POLICE DEPARTMENT, CHCCAGO, August 3oth, I873, SIR:--In conformity to the enclosed request from the Superintendent of the New York police, you are hereby directed to place yourself and services at the disposal of Horace Russell, Esq., who, accompanied by Officer Hardy of the New York force, is expected to reach this city some day this week. You will report daily at these headquarters. Per order of the Chief,' J. G. NIXON, Clerk. To- Detective Miller. The enclosure, a. copy of a letter from Supt. Mat- sell to the Chicago Chief, read as follows: ' DEPARTMENT OF POLICE, NEW YORK, Augurt 25th, 1873. SIR :-Mr. Horace Russell, a reputable and respon- sible gentleman from England, in company with detec- tive Hardy of our force, will call on you in- the course of a week or ten days, advising you by telegraph the day before, for aid in a matter of some delicacy and importance. I am desired by the Mayor to say that any assistance afforded Mr. Russell, will be well be- stowed. We have done what was possible here and have assigned him the keenest man in the detective bureau. Whatever expense is incurred, Mr. Russell TEMPLE 7'ON'S STORY. 1 9 will defray. Commending him to your professional and personal regard, I am Very respectfully, GEO. W. MATSELL, SUP't Police. To Chief Police, Chicago. The fire died away from Templeton's cigar. But the fire in his eyes fairly glowed with excite- ment. "What do you think of that?" said Miller, as he replaced-the documents in his pocket. "Ain't that a stunner? How's that for a lone hand?" Every nerve in Templeton's body was alert. He was in Miller's power for good or ill. With him, for- tune was assured; without him, he was worse off than ever. What to say he knew not. Miller paced the room for some time. Then he stopped as it he had been shot. Turning quickly, he said: "For Heaven's sake, man, do you really care anything for that girl?" "Of course I do," said Templeton; " and, what is more, she is my affianced bride, and it's only an acci- dent that she's not my wife." f "Why, don't yw. see that you're to be her brother, you fool?" shouted Miller. "Great God I I never thought of that," said the as- tonished Templeton, and he sank back in his chair, utterly dumbfounded. page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120 TEMPLETON'S STORY. Had he known that Maud was Mrs. Russell's daughter by a former husband, his perturbation would have been less-but that was something he had yet to learn. Miller quickly brushed that aside, and evincing even more interest in the plan than Templeton had dared to hope, said: ( Now, my friend, this sort of thing is new to you, very evidently, for you have told me noth- ing whatever of your relations to, the Russells, nor how you became informed of their purposes." Templeton then made a clean breast of everything, and gave a clear and connected report of his' acquain- tance with the family on shipboard,- his betrothal with Maud, his gleanings from her of Mr. Russell's loss and search for little Harry, and, last but not least, his wily endeavor to bribe Hardy, before he had really laid out his plan of operations or knew how to utilize him. "And this Hardy is the same ' Officer Hardy' re- ferred to in these orders," said Miller. "Certainly," replied Templeton. Taking a sheet of paper from Templeton's port- folio on the table, Miller rapidly wrote, crossed out, wrote again, read it carefully, aud then said: "Templeton, I like you. Never mind why; but I do. Some time I'll tell you. I think I see my way here. But there are three embarrassments. "And you are the chief. TEMPLE TON'S STORY. 121 "Detective Hardy is the next. "s And that sweetheart is the third. "You must all be got rid of, or the plan won't workV at all. Now, my idea is this: "FIRST, I'll take you out of this elegant crib, and give you less ample quarters in the Hotel de Miller, You'll have to keep as snug as a bug in a rug. If Hardy finds you in Chicago, up goes our job. I'd send you away, but there's no telling when you may be needed.' It's worth a little trouble, anyhow. So if you agree to it, to my house you go, and in it you stay till I say " come out." "SECOND, If Hardy can't be bought--and that's ticklish, if what you say is true-lie must be man- aged. Of course, IF'1 have a big pull on him, as I'm assigned to the job, and if I don't corner him, he must be tolerably wide awake, and New York is too small a place for him; he must stay in Chicago. "THIRD, I hate to interfere with women. So I won't say anything about the girl till she gets here, and I've got the cut of her jib. "Now, what do you sat I'll get in for $i,ooo cash down, and will take your word for $Io,ooo more, pay- able six months after you're the accepted son of Hor. ace Russell. Is it a go?" "It is," said Templeton ; " and now what will you take?" 6 1/ ,/ page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] CHAPTER XIX. ONE-EYED CHARLEY AT HOME. Ig=^aT ten o'clock of that evening, a carriage 'drove up to the door of detective Miller's f modest home ; one of the neatest and pretti- est cottages, near the lake. One might easily imag- ine it to be, the "ideal home" of a happy family, whose head and father devoted himself and all his better energies to humanizing his race, and elevating his kind. It stood in the centre of a well-kept en- closure, about fifty feet from the road, and attracted the attention of every passer--it was so clean, and cosy, and inviting., From the open door-way, a flood of light shone upon the' walk to the gates, and thence upon the street. Miller hastily jumped from the carriage, and, while Templeton followed, assisted the driver in taking the- luggage off the box, and into the house. "Why, father, how late you are," said a sweet voice at the head of the stairs; " and we thought you were ONE-E YED CHARLEY AT HOMiE. I23 lost," said another, while a pair of round arms em- braced the detective's burly figure, and a pair of pouting lips gave him a cordial welcome home. Mary and Martha Miller were twins, and had been partners in this vale of tears and smiles eighteen years. Their mother, a wise and' careful Scotch wo- man, died when the children were ten years of age, leaving them to the curious care of "One-eyed Charley"--abroad, a rough; an indulgent father at home. Chicago's schools are Chicago's pride, and of the many pupils graduated in the past ten years, none have better records, none stood higher than the pretty daughters of this ugly featured man; and no father in all the great assemblage was more nearly choked with joy and pride than "One-eyed Charley," when his girls received their blue-ribboned diplomas, and joined the class chorus in honor of their Alma Mater. He was a strange compound, this Charley Miller. On the very threshold of a great crime, with an ac- complice at his side, his mind full of a nefarious scheme, and his thoughts burdened by his plan, he smilingly greeted his daughters, affectionately kissed them, was really delighted to be at home, and looked forward to a few hours' rest and domestic relief, -with satisfaction and delight. His life had been hard and bad. His companions were often the vilest of the vile. / - - .. page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 ONE-EYED CHARLEY-AT HOME. He prided himself on knowing all the rascals in the West; and- if report was to be credited, he,was not unfairly classed with them. But his wife loved hims when living, and blest himn as she died. And his girls-they fairly idolized him, and mani- fested their regard, in every way known to loving wo- man and ingenuous children. Miller entered the parlor, followed by Lieut. Templeton. Mary and Martha stood near their father. "Girls," said he, "this is an old friend of mine.. His name is Harry Russell. He will stay with us for some time, and none must know of his being here. Ann, the cook, can be relied, on, as she has been for twenty years; and, when I tell you that it's for my sake and in my interest, that this gentleman shall be made to feel at home, and that his being here is not to be talked about, that ends it. Mr. Russell, these are my daughters. This is Mary, and this is Martha, the best girls in the world; not so pretty, perhaps, as their old dad, but quite as good." Templeton bowed pleasantly, and, as he did so, wondered how it was possible to tell which was Mary and which was Martha. There was not a discover- able difference in the color of their hair, the calm beauty of their eyes, the shape of their features, or the style of their figures. ' ^ ONE-E YED CHARLE Y AT HO ME. 25 " We will see that your room is in order, Mr. Rus- sell,' said Mary, as she left the parlor. "Would Mr. Russell have anything to eat, fa- ther? said' Martha. "Nothing for me, I assure you," replied Tem- pleton; " we dined late, and I am so very tired that -I shall welcome most of all a hospitable bed." Presently Mary returned, saying that Mr. Russell's room was in readiness, and bidding the young ladies 'good-night," Templeton and Miller carried their trunks up-stairs. The room assigned the new guest 'was not large, but very comfortable and well furnished. From the front windows, he had a perfect view of the broad calm lake, on which a magnificent harvest moon was gloriously shining, and from the side he could look upon one of America's greatest marvels, a vast and populous city, striving with zeal for supremacy in all that is enterprising and beneficent, and cursed with' extremest temptations to vice, and the widest oppor- tunity for every species of debauchery and sin. Templeton had an eyefor the beautiful, and gazed long at the silvered lake, ere he unpacked his "room trunk" and prepared for rest. page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] /! CHAPTER XX. SHE WAITED PATIENTLY. HE sun was high in the heavens when Maude and her mother greeted Mr. Russell the day after the scene at the talble, and it was evi- dent to all that an embarrassment lay upon their in- tercourse. For the first time since her mother's mar- riage, Maud did not look Mr. Russell in the eye when she greeted him. She was not ill-tempered, but she felt hurt, and could not understand the ex- tremity of her father's antipathy to Templeton. After a rather uncongenial hour at breakfast, Mr. Russell walked to the window where Maud was standing, and putting his arm about her, drew hei towards him, and'said: ,( Daughter,'I cannot bear to have the least shade of trouble between us. Let us be perfectly frank and truthful with each other, as we- ever have been, and see if, in any way, we can come together on this subject, which seems to be very near your heart, and which has given me more anxiety, SHE. WAITED PATIENTLY. I27 't than all my business cares for years. Your mother tells me you love this man." "Oh, father, darling, I do, I do! ' interrupted Maud, and bursting into tears, she' threw her arms about her father's neck and sobbed upon his breast. This was more than Mr. Russell had bargained for, but, remembering Hardy's advice at the time of the fire, he " braced up " and bore it like a man. After a little the paroxysm passed, and Mr. Russell continued: ," I am quite willing to concede," said he, as, like all fathers, he prepared to yield a point he could no longer hold, " that Lieut. Templeton is a fine-looking, well-behaved person. I find his record in the navy is exceptionably good, and although I can learn nothing of his family antecedents, he' is a man of some property, and generally liked by his asso- ciates. ,But I don't fancy him. Why, I cannot tell; but I never see that man without a shudder. I'll say nothing about his letter to you. You are old enough to know your own heart; and what rea- son he had for believing that such a proposition as he made would be acceptable, you know better than I. I have talked the matter over with your mother, who is your guardian, and the. only one in authority over you-for, although I. love you as if you were my own flesh and blood, I remember always that I can only advise you-and we have concluded page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 128 -SHE WAITED PATIENTLY. that you may, if you choose, invite Mr. Templeton to calf here this evening. We will receive him pleas- antly, and if he then makes any formal proposition for your' hand, I will answer him precisely as if you were my own child, asking such questions as a father with propriety may ask, and putting him on such probation as is both decorous and just. And then, if all is well, my darling "shall have her heart's desire, and all my prejudice shall be whistled to the wind. How does my plan please you?" Maud's generous nature appreciated the sacrifice her father was making on the altar of her love, and thanked and kissed him again and again. The three were as happy as mortals could be. At Mr. Russell's suggestion, Maud wrote a note to Templeton at once, and sent it by a messenger to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Stupidly, the boy simply left it at the counter, and the clerk on duty not knowing that Templeton had gone, placed it in his box. Of course, Templeton did not receive it. And equally, of course, as hour after hour passed dn, and her lover failed to answer her summons, which she hoped would be to him both a surprise and delight, Maud's feeble physique drooped, and when the late- ness of the hour showed the folly of further expecta- tion that evening, she threw her head upon her moth- er's lap and cried most bitterly. Y SHE WAITED PATIENTLY. 129 Neither Mr. Russell nor his wife could furnish apology, excuse, or reason for Templeton's absence. They shared Maud's disappointment to a certain ex- tent, and the constant strain upon her nerves made. them anxious for her health, which, of late, had be- come less firm than when at home. During the evening Hardy called, but, as between them, nothing had ever passed in reference to Tem- pleton, the perfect explanation he could so easily have given was not made, and a cloud rested on the entire group because of the absence of a man, whose presence to-day, four hours before, would have created a perfect storm of indignation. As Hardy started to leave, he said: "How soon do you think you will be able to go West, Mr. Rus- sell?" "That depends on Miss Maud entirely," replied Horace. "We 'can't afford to have a sick daughter on our hands; can we, darling?" Maud looked up mournfully enough, and 'said:, "Go when you wish, father. I'm ready to-night, if you say so." "Nonsense, nonsense!" broke in Mr. Russell. "What you'll do to-night, is sleep. A good night's sleep will bring you out as bright as a button, and to- morrow we'll take a drive in the Park. By Monday next I think we'll be all right, Hardy. Some friends of mine arrived by the steamer to-day. We dine to- 6* . . page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] I30 SHE WAITED PATIENTL Y. gether to-morrow. Next day I'll get my letter of introduction, and you be prepared with your share by Sunday at the latest. We'll take the earliest train on Monday morning. Good-night, nmy boy, good- night!" Hardy bade them all -"good-night," and walked away full of wonder. On his way up town he stopped at the Fifth Ave- nue Hotel, inquired of the clerk if Lieut. Templeton was still there, and learned that he had gone, West that morning. "Gone West!" thought Hardy. "What under heavens does that mean? It tsrt' possible that he would be so foolish as to try to cut in again. ' But no; that's too absurd!" and, dismissing the matter from his mind, he lounged easily up the avenue. O CHAPTER XXI. JOHN, HARDY'S STORY-A SUDDEN STOP. PLEASANTLY seated in a Pullman car, the Russells and detective Hardy sped swiftly on their way to the wonder of the West, the pride of Illinois. It was a beautiful morning, and the perfect ventilation of the car kept the party com- fortable, in spite of the excessive heat of the day. Mrs. Russell was a good traveler. She was burdened with no surplus luggage,. A strap held her wraps and those of her daughter; a small valise contained the needed changes of apparel on the road, and by her side were books and papers for en- tertainment or relief. "What time are we due at Chicago, Hardy," said Mr. Russell. "The schedule time," replied Hardy, " is 5.30; but I understand we havy lost time, and may not be in till an hour later. I can't say that Icare much, for the scenery is beautiful, and now that we are accus- page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 13 i y70OHN HARDY'S STORY. tomed to the motion of the cars, it's almost as pleas- ant here as anywhere. I've been thinking for the last hour or so abut that boy of yours. What a life he may have led I Perhaps he has had everything ' dead' against him, and possibly he has been helped from the very start. I know how it is myself, and I tell you it mals a great difference to a fellow whether he pad- dles his own canoe or is towed along by a tug." "If it's a fair question, Mr. Hardy, which was your lot," asked Mrs. Russell. The detective colored up a little, and glanced across the seat at Maud, who was half listening to the conversation, and half gazing at the clouds which kindly shieded them from the fierce rays-of the boil- ing sun. , As Hardy looked at her, she smiled,-and said: "Oh, yes, Mr. Hardy; do tell us all about your life. It must be a perfect marvel of romance and adventure. I should dearly like to hear it." "In many respects," 'said Hardy, "I have had an easy life; in some a very hard one. My business is peculiar, and leads one into queer scenes and among odd people now and then. But, as a rule, I see the same kinds of human nature in men and women you do, and find life in any one sphere is not so very dif- ferent in motive from life in any other. I have a lit- tle property, but I had a very humble origin. I hard- ly like to tell you that-my father was a scavenger, but ) yOHN HARDYS STORY. 3 he was; and he was as good and true a man as ever ] knew; kind and indulgent, though very reticent and not at all informed about matters which interest or. dinary men. I was the only child, and, of course, had my own way. I really can't remember nmuch about my childhood, and what I do recall is so strangely mixed up with fancies and fables that it is not at all satisfactory. I think the first event I remember, now, is having a blue suit with bright buttons, one exhibi- tion day at school, and speaking a piece before quite an audience. Queer, isn't it? One would imagine that he'd rememlber some toy, or playfellow, or a thrashing, or some, out-of-the-way thing; but I can see father and mother sitting in the Hall, as distinctly as if they were here this blessed minute. "Mother was a quaint old body. "Her Johnnie was the apple of her eye, and the core of her heart. "And how she did sing! "I can see and hear her sing now. She was a great Methodist, and she had all the camp-meeting tunes and songs at the end of her tongue all the time. "I never knew father to speak a cross word to her or to me, and I never saw a frown on mother's face till the day of her death. "I don't give much evidence of it, I know, but I was always ambitious and successful at school, and especially when I saw that it tickled father so. Every page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] I34 A" YOHN/ HARD Y'S STOR Y. time I received a medal he went wild. Every time my teacher gave me a book, or my report was partic- ularly good, he acted as if a new heaven was opened to him, I don't look a particle like either of 'ea. I have a very fair picture of nlbther" in my room, but we never could persuade father to sit for one. He ' seemed superstitious about it. When. he died, I was a messenger in the chiefs private office. I was only seventeen, and had been there going on two years, when one of the neighbors' children came running over to headquarters-we lived right round. the corner-- and said : (Johnny Hardy, run home as quick as you can, your father's got a fit." I rushed into the police surgeon's room, got Dr. Appleton, and hurried home. z "1 was just in timne. "'The good old man had fallen in a fit at the corner of Prince and Mulberry streets, and was taken home by people who knew him. As I entered the room he opened his eyes and smiled. I was very fond of him and he of me. Said he : ' Johnnie, boy, look out for your mother. Be a good boy ; be a good boy, John- nie,' and falling back, died almost immediately. "Thegloctor said it was apoplexy--and perhaps it was. "He left mother comfortably provided for, and then I had my pay every week, so we got along nicely, but not for long. "You see they had lived together forty-two years, yOHN HARDY'S STORY. - I35 and had grown in and about ,each other's nature so that when one was torn away-and so suddenly, too- the other had to follow. "She wanted to follow. "I saw it pained motler to think of leaving me, but all through her illness she thought and spoke of hard- ly anything else but her meeting and rejoining father. "Well, sloe died too. "In a little while I was transferred to one of the bureaus as clerk ; and, as soon as I was old enough, I was made an officer. "I didn't like it. "There's too much ' red tape' and' boss' business about it. And a man .has no chance tor promotion unless he has friends, and friends are of no use unless they are politicians. I saw enough of it. Politicians keep men from being ' broken' every day. in the year. They put them on the force, -and keep them there, too. However, I was lucky enough to do some detec- tive work, in which my mother-wit helped me very much more than my experience did, and I was detailed to detective work altogether. I can't say I like it, but I find it pleasanter than being in the club brigade. But I've seen some queer sights in my time." , Did you tver have anything to do with a real murderer?" said Maud. "Oh, yes, indeed," laughingly replied Hardy; "murderers are not always such dreadful people to page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 136 7yOHN HARDY'S STORY. deal with. Not very. many years ago, I was one of five men put on a murder scent, and it occupied us three months constantly. The victim was a very old lady, rich and much respected. She was killed in her own bedroom, one summer night; ahd the room' exhibited signs of d violent struggle. After a sensa- tional funeral we were sent for and given our in- structions. Each man had his theory. Burglars, or interested parties, must have done the deed. 'Nothing had been stolen, so I dropped the burglar idea. I believed the woman was killed accidentally by some one who, for some occult purpose, was in her room; and then, surprised, for fear of detection, did a deed he was very loath to do." "Well, well, go on," said-Maud. "I wish I could," continued Hardy, "but I was never permitted to. Or, perhaps, I shouldn't say that; but it is a fact that every line of search seemed to lead directly to one of the dead woman's nearest friends. I followed clue after clue, and invariably came to the same point. Then I was bluffed, or foiled, or ordered off on some other job, or pooh-poohed, until I found I was treading on toes which wouldn't stand it, and I must get off." "But has the murderer never been discovered?" asked Mr. Russell. "No, sir. There -is a kind of open secret about it. And it comes up in the papers every little while," -OHN HARDY'S STORY. I37 said Hardy; "but money, and politics, and social in- fluence manage to keep it down. I believe I could point the man out as easily as I could point you out. But, if I should do it, in the first place, I would forfeit the confidence of my superiors; in the next, I would doubtless lose my position, and last, but by no means least, very likely I should fail to prove my suspicions. Circumstantial evidence which satisfies me might not have weight with the public or a jury."' "That's so," said Mr. Russell; " but do the other friends of the dead woman regard this one of whom you speak with suspicion?" "Certainly they do," said Hardy, "and that's the very point. - They have from the first; and although, for social pride's sake they keep tip an external tolera- tion of the man, I suspect in private they despise- him, and really have nothing whatever to do with him. Possibly they have struck a kind of domestic balance; and, remembering all the other hearts that would suffer, have deliberately chosen silence and condota- tion, rather than the shame and disgrace resulting from a public trial. Or, again, there may be nothing in it. "One of the- queerest cases I ever met,"' continued Hardy, " was that of a lady living in Troy. She was rich, or rather her husband was, and owned some su- perb diamonds. They were lost-she said they were stolen. Suspicion fell on her maid, and the poor girl page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] l ) 138 '170yOHN HARDY'S STOR-Y. was arrested. I became quite interested in the case, because I felt that the accused party was innocent. I knew the thief would take the diamonds at once to a pawnbroker in New York, so I simply caused it to be known among the professional thieves that, for cer- tain reasohs, the detective bureau wished those dia- monds found. In less than a week I received infor- mation that they were ih a pawnshop up town; and, on inquiry, it turned out that the lady who owned them was the party who pawned them. She was- short of money and' adopted that mode of raising it, knowing that her husband would be very angry if she were to sell. them. I was perfectly delighted when I found it out, and compelled her to compensate her servant for the infamy she had put upon her." "That was just right," said Maud. "What did her husband say?" asked Mrs. Russell. "Oh, I don't know," replied Hardy; "I said nothing to him. If she told him, all right; and if not, what was it to me?" "Were your parents American, Mr. Hardy?" asked Mrs. Russell. "My father was," replied he, " but I have an im- pression that mother was English. She had relatives in England, at all events. I have a trunk of hei things at my lodgings, which I mean to rumlmage some time. It is full of books, and newspapers, and letters, which, I ,dare say, would throw some light upon her - yOHN HARDY'S STORY. 139 early life. At all events, I think I'll devote my first leisure evening to an inspection, and" Hardy never finished that sentence. Ere the words could come the-air was dark and filled with smoke. Dust and cinders, and fire and noise, and hissing steam drove life and 1reath away. Crashing timbers and splitting wood flew in every di- rection. Over and over and over again the car 'rolled, and groaned, and broke into confusion. Tr he people were like dust in the balance. High and loud, and shrill over the shrieks of the murdered men and women, sounded the fierce rushing of the escaping steam, and, for a moment-long as eternal night--hell seemed to have its home on earth and every fiend was busy. The engine had struck a pile of rails heaped high upon the track, and had bounded from its iron path full tilt upon the adjoining ties. Two cars rolled over an embankment and four were drawn with terrific jolts across the rugged edges of the parallel track. The uninjured passengers hurried to the relief of their less fortunate companions. The engineer was' dead, the fireman joined him later. Several passengers were very seriously injured. Mr. and Mrs. Russell were bady strained, Maud was well shaken but ,not hurt; but Hardy, when extricated from the wreck, though carefully carried to . page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] I40 .yOHN HARDY'S STORY. a bank near by, gave no sign of life, and was pro- ;'nounced dead by the conductor and the rest. Fortunately the accident, or rather outrage, was within a few. miles of one of the " line towns," and messengers were at once dispatched for aid. Mrs. Russell and Maud, with other, ladies, were seated in one of the ordinary cars, while Mr. Rus- sell, who had become very much attached to Hardy, stayed by his body. It was well that he did so, for, after a long time, he noticed a tremor of the -lips and a partial opening of the eyes. "Thank God," said Russell, as he applied a flask of brandy to the lips of his friend, and calling for aid, did what was possible to bring him back to con- sciousness. I;. A series of fainting fits showed the weakness of the poor fellow, and suggested also the probability of some internal injury. A wrecking train came up in about three hours with surgeons and help of all description. The dead were coffined, the wounded cared for, and, when the debris-was cleared away, the train pro- ceeded slowly on to the station, drawn by the engine of the relief. Of the wounded, Hardy was the only one whose case the surgeons pronounced dangerous. They de- cided that he must not be carried further on. He yOfN HARDY'S STORY. 14 was therefore left at a house where boarders wer( taken, and a nurse, hired by the:company, was place( with him. Mr. Russell was completely disheartened by wha the doctors said, but was somewhat comforted by hi wife, who reminded him that they were only tw hours' car ride from Chicago, and that, after they hat secured their apartments there, it would be easy to rut out and see Hardy, and, if he were providentialB spared, to remove him, when convalescent, to the city The company's officials assured Mr. Russell tha Hardy should have the best of care, and having hini self made the nurse promise to advise him imme diately if his presence was necessary, or anything whatever was needed, he took his wife and Maude and sorrowfully finished the journey. . page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] CHAPTER XX I THE MLLER AND HS MAN. WHEN detective Miller brushed his hair down, and paid close attention to his beard, he was not absolutely ugly. Indeed, if he had retained the use of both eyes, he would be tolerably presentable. Ordinarily, however, his short reddish hair would not stay down, and a day's neglect of the razor imparted a tinge to the rude man's cheek which 'by no means enhanced his beauty. Two days after Templeton, or, as he was there called, Mr. Harry Russell, was made one of the Miller household, the young ladies were pleasantly surprised when their grim father appeared at the breakfast-table dressed in his best, clean shaven, irre- proachable as to linen, and with his hair'as slick and' smooth as brush and comb could make it. Evidently something out of the common routine was on the carpet, and Miller's manner made it more apparent. . Breakfast was served, and nothing of moment was THE MLLER .AND HS MAN. 143 said or done until Miller, who was reading the morn- ing paper and drinking coffee at the samle time, choked, coughed, jumped up and spluttered, and then recovering himself, said: "Here, Mary, read this out loud, and the rest of you listen." Somewhat surprised, Mary took the paper, and read as follows: "A fiendish outrage, resulting in thk killing of several railroad men, the probable death of others, and the wounding of twenty or thirty passengers, was perpetrated on the Michigan Central Railway yester- day afternoon, about ten miles beyond Johnson station. The New, York express, due here at 5.30 P M., was somewhat behind time, and the engineer was doing his. best to recover what he safely could, when he made the sharp turn just below Wilson's Grove. At that point the road is visible but some thirty feet at a glance, and, failing to observe any obstruction, the engineer drove at full speed upon what is represented as a pile of railing. The concussion was tremendous, resulting in the demolishment of the engine, and the instant killing of the engineer. The train was thrown from the track two of the cars rolled over' the embankment, ana the rest were jolted at a fearful rate ' across the rails of the adjoining track. The fireman was drawn from the wreck still living, but he died soon after in great agony. The wounded were attended to Oas well as was possible by "the uninjured passengers, page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 THrE MLLER AND HS MAN. until the arrival of the wrecking train, when all but one were brought speedily to this city, where they were taken at once to the hospital or their homes. "The passenger who was so badly hurt as to be unable to endure the fatigue of the trip is Mr. Hardy, a member of the New York police force. He was accompanying an English family, who were on their way to this city on matters requiring his professional aid. It seems that Mr. Hardy and the gentleman of the party were sitting vis-a-vis to two ladies, wife and daughter of the Englishman, whose name was not obtained. The collision was abrupt and sudden, of course, but Hardy, with praiseworthy presence of mind, caught the younger lady, who sat facing him, in his arms, in such a way as to protect her from con- tact with the iron work of the seat, by which, as the car turned over and over, he was terribly bruised, while his companions, beyond the shock, experienced no injury of any kind. The surgeons find that Mr. Hardy's left arm is fractured in two places, three of his ribs are broken, his face is badly cut, and his whole body so battered that it ,is a wonder he lives. He seems to have a strong constitution, and if his mind can rest while his body recuperates, he, may possibly recover." Miller and Templeton looked at each other. The girls were interested iinthe romance of Maud's escape. - ' * THE MLLER AND HS MAN. 145 The men were excited to extravagance of hope by the reality of Hardy's anger. ' What an infernal outrage that is," said Miller. ' Yes," chimed in Templeton; "the fellows who would do such a deed as that would murder their own mothers. Now, what earthly motive could they have for throwing a train full of strangers off the track, and perilling the lives of hundreds. of people?" "Perhaps their object was not earthly," said Martha. Mary smiled, but the men did not seem to notice her sister's suggestion.. Presently Miller rose, kissed his daughters, and turning to Templeton, said: "If this report is true, it won't be necessary for you to kep so quiet; but wait till I find out. I shall be backs perhaps, at on'e, but certainly in time for supper. Good-bye." Leaving home, Charley Miller went first to head- quarters and reported. There he learned that 'the facts were substantially as set forthin the paper, and that inquiry had already been received from New York about Hardy and his condition. The Chief thought Miller ought to go to the hotel at once, and see if he could be of any service to Mr. Russell; so he went. -Mr. Russell received the detective, and in the presence of his wife and Maud rehearsed the story of their accident, words failing only when he sought: 7 " page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] "6 THE ML LER AND HS MAN. to picture the noble conduct of Hardy, who had undoubtedly been much more seriously injured in hls efforts to shield Maud than if he had cared only for himself.. The ladies were also enthusiastic over Hardy, and begged Miller to advise them if Hardy would really be as well cared for where he was left, as if he were brought to the city. Miller replied that if Hardy was -kept quiet for a week or two where he then was, he might be able to endure the jolting of the cars each day a short distance, and then be made more comfortable during his convalescence. He did not conceal from himself, however the very probable fact that Hardy would not only never see Chicago, but never leave his bed, for the reports received at headquarters said he had passed a very bad night, was in a raging fever, and could not be kept quiet. Mr. Russell was not prepossessed by One-eyed Charley; but Miller was so quiet, so plausible, so kind in his reference to Hardy, and so blunt in the expres- sion of his opinion, that- before the business on which he called was broached, Miller felt that he had the confidence of the family. And besides' he was the detective detailed- from headquarters, and presumably as reputable a man as was on -the force. "I suppose," said he, "you dol't feel like talking business to me to-day, do you. I called partly' to see THE MLLER AND HS MAN. 147 if I could do anything for you or Hardy, and partly because I am directed to report to you for orders. If it isn't agreeable to-day, I'll call to-morrow; and if you don't feel up to it then, I'll call next day, and so on." Mr. Russell hardly knew what to say. Whatever thouight occupied his mind, was sure to be driven out by his anxiety about Hardy. He wanted to begin his search for his boy, but even that desire brought him athce to the consideration of what he could do withodt Hardy. Insensibly a feeling of personal regard had grown up between them. Hardy was always respectful, willing, good-natured and sensible. He had tact and knew when to leave. Few men have that faculty. He was bright, and jolly, and full of fun, but he was also serious, business-like, and full of resource. Russell liked hin because he was a thorough man of the world, with a clean tongue, and ;an honest heart. - And the ladies liked him because he was useful, without intrusion, and attentive without gallantry. Still, much as Mr. Russell thought of John Hardy, it was clear that he could be of no benefit to him now, beyond securing to him the best of 'care, and most experienced nursing. That, as we have seen, was attended to, and Mr. Russell concluded that he might as well unfold. his plans to the Chicago detective in person. -*"* , page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 IZHE MLLER AND HS MAN Mrs. Russell and Maud retired, and Mr. Russell proceeded to business. "I had hoped," said he, " to have the benefit of Hardy's already acquired information, so that you and he might get to work at once, leaving me rather in the position of one to whom reports are made; but this accident deprives us-both of valuable aid, and I find I must take a hand in myself. In brief, my case, is this. Twenty years ago I lost a boy in New Vork. He was five years old. Next day I went home to England. My wife stayed over two steam- ers, but nothing was heard of the little fellow. She followed me. We nearly died with grief at the time, and the, poor girl did succumb at last. Well, twenty, years are gone. Harry, if living, is twenty-five years old. I want to find him. Money is no object, time only do I grudge-not that I am unwillingto spend time, and strength, and all to find the boy, but I long to have him." "Have you no clue at all? Couldn't the police help you in any way then or now?" asked Miller. "Not much," replied Russell; " not much. We did find at the Tonbs a record of a man' named Delaney, who just at that time was picked up drunk, and taken to the Tombs. He had a boy with him, and was sent out here. Hardy seemed to think it might be well to hunt Delaney up, and trace the boy. It could do no harm, at all events, and might be pro- THE MLLER AND HS MAN. 149 ductive of good. But, as Mrs. Russell says, 'if De- laney was a hard drinker, and had gotten so low as \ the Tombs, twenty years ago, we are not likely to find him alive at this late day.' What do you think?" "Oh, I don't know about -that," said Miller; 'fsohe hard drinkers live longer than temperance folks. That's nothing to the point. But this boy, what was his name?" "Harry," said Mr. Russell. "Well, Harry," continued Miller, ' this boy Harry, did he have anything peculiar about him? I don't mean curly hair-they all have that-nor anything fancy, but marks or scars, or anything that would hold. Look at my cheek. See that scar? That's nothing but a mosquito bite. I had that bite fifty years ago when I was a baby. I scratched the bite, and made the scar. I don't suppose the little chap had a mosquito bite, butt did he have anything at all?" "Upon my word, I never thought to speak of it, nor has the question ever been asked," replied Mr. Russell; " but when Harry was in my place in Mil- waukee" ' In where? In Milwaukee? Did you ever live in Milwaukee?" cried Miller. "Of course I did," said Mr. Russell. "I had a shop there, and turned out the best cold chisels you ever saw in your life. I lived in the city over eight years, and in the vicinity two years more. Why?" yexs an ? page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] I50 THE MLLER AND HS MAN. "Why, my dear sir," exclaimed the detective, who really saw a point in honest search, and certainly saw a bigger point in his little game in Templeton's interest, "don't you see that everything bearing on the boy's early life is of interest? And if you lived' in Milwaukee five years with this boy, and he was a boy of ariy parts at all, he must remember something of his father's home and surroundings. If we were to find a young man who answered the-description, and forced us to think he really was your son, unless he could give you some evidence drawn from the expe- rience of his life in Milwaukee, I should very much doubt him. And on the other hand, even in the ab- sence of other conclusive proof, if the youth did re- member, to your satisfaction, any marked occurrence of the life at home before you lost him, I should yield a -much readier assent. I beg your pardon for the interruption, but take my word for it, that Milwaukee ,life will prove a pivot in this entire search." What a fortunate thing it is that men and women are unable to read each other's thoughts. There are clever people,.now and then, who can make out a little of the-inner life of their friends and companions, but as a rule the unknown ground is impregnable. It was especially fortunate for Detective Millr at this moment; for his lively imagination had already packed itself[with facts, drawn from future talks with Mr. Russell, and in turn, Templeton's ready wit was THE MLLER AND HS MAN. 15I stored with much that would puzzle, embarrass, and delight the heavy-hearted father, and perhaps con- vince him, that he was the lost boy of his search. Determining then and there to draw from' Mr. Russell all he could concerning his Milwaukee home, Miller settled back in his chair again, and' Mr. Russell proceeded as follows: "Well, as I was- saying, I had a little factory, hardly that, and yet it was more than a shop, where I turned- out a high grade of tools, and was getting along quite nicely, when I was called home to soe my father die. About a year before that, Harry, then four years old, and quite tall of his age, was playing- about the place one day when I was. out. The hands were busy, and didn't notice him as he went up stairs, where the finished tools were packed for shipment. Presently they heard a sharp cry of pain, and rushing up to see what was the matter, found that Harry had pulled a sharp chisel from one of the benches, and had dropped it'on his foot. One of the men quickly took off his shoe and stocking, and ascertained that the little toe of the right foot was cut through, and ling by a mere shred. The stupid fellow cut the little film -of flesh by which the toe hung, and hurried with Harry to mny house, which was only a block away. My wife bound the foot up, but neither of them thought of the toe itself, till the doctor camenan hour later, and then it could not be page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] j52 SE THE MLLER AND HS MAN. found. We- feared the mutilation would lamee him, but he soon recovered, and, really, I don't believe I have thought of it, or of the occurrence in twenty years." "And yet that very mutilation, as you call it, may preserve you from being deceived by schemers, and fooled-by rascals," rejoined Miller, And to himself, he added: "Off goes Templeton's toe, as sure as fate i" Mr. Russell then narrated their experience in New' York, and concluded by asking Miller if he was will- ing to begin to hunt up Delaney at once, and to take charge of the whole investigation -independently of Hardy, whose recovery was a matter of months at least. Miller said he was not only willing, but would be very glad to do so. Before making ally suggestions, however, he would go home and think it over. Meanwhile, he proposed that with Mr. Russell he should take the two o'clock train, run out to see Hardy, and return by the train due at Chicago at 9.30. To this Mr. Russell assented, and Miller went to the office to report. , H CHAPTER XXIII. ROBERT DELANEY, CLERGYMAN, APPEARS. lN canvassing possibilities, Miller found him- self confronted by the fact that the old man Delaney might be found, and that the boy he was reported to have with him might be the lost son of Mr. Russell. To-be sure, if,.through the efforts of the Chicago police, these. people were found, and the object of Mr. Russell thereby attained, Miller would be certain of a large reward ; buthe believed a greater profit could be derived from Templeton if his plan were to succeed. Already $1ioo had been paid to Miller, and $0o,ooo additional were pledged, but to the shrewd detective's mind, Templeton, as Harry Russell, would prove a perpetual mine to one who held his secret, and could at any time expose his fraud. Miller determined at once to put all his machinery in motion to discover Delaney; and, first of all, went to the Mercantile Library, where were kept the 7* Of I. page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154 ROBERT DELANEY. Directories of the city for more than twenty years back. , There were quite a number of Delaneys, but no "James" among them until the year i865, and he was a clergyman. The fact that no James Delaney appeared in the list was not conclusive proof that there was no person of that name in the city; but it was presumptive evidence. In the Directory of I870 , there was "James Delaney, builder;" but after that year, although there were several of that name, none of them were builders. Miller was about giving up the search, when his eye lit on "Robert Delaney, clergyman." He won- dered for a moment why that name should be familiar to him, and. then suddenly recalled that at a little Baptist church not far from his own home, his daugh- ters frequently worshipped; and that once or twice the minister, whose name was Delaney, had called at- his house. He further remembered that the only serious dis- cussion that Mary and Martha had ever held before him was about this very man, who had asked Martha to take a class in his parish Sunday-school, and to visit among the poor as a kind of reader to the sick and infirm. Mary thought it was presumptuous in Mr. Delaney to propose such a thing to a stranger; but Martha insisted that the pastor of a church was charged with the Lord's work, and had a perfect right ROBERT DELANE Y. I 5 5 to assume that every person who attended service in his church would be ready and willing to do what he could to aid the suffering and cheer the sick. The end of it all was, that Martha did not teach in the school, but very frequently called upon the poor people of the district, and in a quiet, womanly way, won the hearts of many sick persons by her gentle endeavors to relieve'their troubles, and break the monotony of weary days and' sleepless nights. Miller had heard his daughters talking about these visits occasionally, but it had never occurred to him to say anything about them. He gave Mary all the money she asked for, trusting to her to keep the house books of expense, and knowing that between her and her sister there was no jealousy, and no riv- alry, except in their endeavor to make home attrac- tive and pleasing to their fatherl. The Rev. Robert Delaney was about twenty-six or seven years of age, tall and stout. He walked a trifle lame, but he bore himself with the'air of a soldier. Indeed, he had served two or three years in the army, entering as a private, and leaving as a brevet-colonel. He began his service long after the fuss-and-feather days of the earlier years had passed, when for awhile it was easier to be made a brigadier- general than to earn an honest five dollars per diem; but when fighting had become a business, politicians had less and less power every month, and at the close page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 ROBERT DELANEY. of the war, brevet-colonels really ranked higher in the estimation of men who knew anything, than their - \ superiors whose stars were conferred to please the whinl of a politician. When Robert Delaney began his work in Chicago, he had a small hall and a slim audience; but he was full of zeal, and talked to his hearers as if he were in earnest for their good. He was simple in his-tastes, and modest in his manner, but magnetic and impulsive in speech. In prayer and exhortation he was pe- culiarly impassioned, and his efforts in behalf of young men were so sensible and practical that his reputation soon extended, and, had he chosen, he might have been called up higher many a time. But he preferred to stay where he was and work. His A f'iends appreciated his love -of the place,-and deter- mined to build him a larger church. This they did, and on the Sunday following the search made in the Directories by Miller, the building was to be dedi- cated, and the church formally installed in its new home. Wondering whether he had actually had the very man he wanted under his own roof, Miller made a nemorandum of Delaney's residence, and returned :o the hotel for Mr. Russell with whom he intended to go to see how Hardy was progressing. Miller found Mr. Russell in a-state of great excite- nent over a Adispatch iust received from Hardy's ,; ROBER T DELANEY. 157 nurse. The message reported Hardy in feverish con- dition, and said that the doctor would allow no one to see him or enter his room., Of course, there was no need or use in their going to the place where the wounded man was, if they could neither see him nor do him any good. So the trip was given up, greatly to Maud's regret; who had secretly determined to-make one of the party. "Well, Miller," said Mr. Russell, after it was de- cided to defer the visit to Hardy, "have you thought of any plan?" "Yes, sir," replied the detective; "I shall first try to find James Delaney. You told me I think, that the matron said the little boy was five or six years old. How old exactly was Harry?" "Let me see-" said Mr. Russell. "Harry was more than five. I think he was nearly six, or he may have been over six and nearly seven, I have no way of fixing his age precisely, except by reference to some of my wife's letters, and I haven't seen them in five years. Anyhow, he was a little fellow, and I should say five, or six, or seven years old-there really is very little difference, you know?' "No," rejoined Miller, "I don't suppose there is. I was only thinking that if living, he must be getting on toward thirty years old; and that, for a driving western man, is the prime of life. Out here, if a man is ever to amou:;lt to anything he knows it by' , .h page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 ROBERT 'DELANEY. the time he turns thirty. I may not see you for a few days. JI have an idea. I may go to Milwaukee, and I may go elsewhere. Meanwhile, kVep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth shut. If you are allowed to see Hardy I hope you'll go. There isn't much fun in being sick away from home, and ten to one he frets about the job besides." Maud thanked Charley Miller with her tearful eyes for the kind word he spoke about Hardy. She longed to speak to him about Lieut. Templeton, and to ask if any such name had been mentioned in the arrivals, but she knew better, and did nothingof the kind. Mr. Russell acquiesced in Miller's proposition, as- suming that he knew what was best to do; and after urging him to spare neither expense nor care, bade him "good day," and the party separated. The Russells drove out with a gentleman to whom Horace had letters, and Miller went directly home. seifi CHAPTER XXIV. MLLER GOES TO CHURCH.--A TOE FOR A TOE. N pursuance of a suggestion made by their father, Mary and Martha Miller invited the Rev. Mr. Delaney to dine with them the day of the dedication of the new church, and for his con- venience six o'clock was the hour named. At the morning service the sacred edifice was densely thronged, and several distinguished clergymen of the city participated in the ceremonies, the dedica- tion sermon being delivered by the pastor. 'Detective Miller astonished his daughtes by vol- unteering to accompany them to church, and, as in their recollection he had never done such a thing be- fore, it may well be imagined their astonishment wats thoroughly leavened with delight. None of the pews had been rented as yet, and on this occasion all seats were free. The Millers were well known in the society, -and, as they were early at page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 A TOE FOR A TOE. the door, were taken to excellent places quite near the pulpit. , The services were rather prosy until the delivery of the sermon.- Up to that time Mr. Delaney had taken no part in the proceedings, and as he sat quite out of sight, Miller began to think he was/wasting time. Presently, however, the pastor approached the desk, and'Miller was his most careful observer. The detective element was in full play. Miller studied Delaney's head, hair, eyes, mouth, and carriage, as -a turfman does a horse. He examined his points, mental and physical, and confessed himself puzzled. Is he the son of Horace Russell, or is he not? There was nothing in .Robert Delaney's look or bearing that forbade the supposition, and there was much that might be considered confirmatory evidence, -if the theory were already advanced and partially proved. The young preacher was not a time-server. He felt himself the bearer of a message from the Ruler of the world, and as he delivered it earnestly and eloquently, self never obtruded, and Delaney never interfered with the envoy. Little -by little Miller became interested in the subject. He forgot the man in the matter. / A TOE FOR A TOE. I6 And when the minister wound up one particularly impassioned appeal to fathers as exemplars before their children, the old rascal. actually found a tear on his cheek, and an uncomfortable sensation in his throat. Robert Delaney was a sensationalist, but not a vul- gar one. All earnest men and women are sensationalists. It is necessary that they should be. In this world of hypocrisy and sham, honest endeavor and earnest work win their way and attract attention by their novelty; and whatever is novel is sensational. The young man succeeded because success was not his aim. He was popular because he cared nothing for popularity. He was a good thinker, a magnetic preacher, and thoroughly imbued with the sacredness of his calling, and the universal need of moral and spiritual educa- tion. With no other care unon his mind, he had de- liberately chosen his field, al..t now this abundant harvest was rewarding-is industry and zeal. He was loved by honest men, and toadied to by fools; he was appreciated by earnest women, and flattered by silly ones. The honest and the earnest he loved and appreci- ated as they deserved; the fools and silly women he understood,\and tolerated only because he hoped in time to do them good. page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] I62 .A TOE FOR A TOE. Like all popular men he had his besetting tempta- tions. Had he been weak-headed, and vain, and selfish, flattery, -and incense, and social preferment were at his command. But he chose the wiser course, and in giving up all worldly plans, in the interest of his Master's cause, he- gained the, more desirable rewards of respect, esteem and honor of his fellow-citizens and his flock. He was apparently twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age, with nO parents, and no home save the mod- test lodgings he called his " rooms." Attached to the new church, however, was a small parsonage, and into that he proposed to move at an early day. His, deacons had often told him he ouight to marry, but his heart ery properly suggested that he should wait until he"had met a 'woman whom he loved. Delaney had a high regard for his deacons, but there are some matters about which even deacons know very little. He was in no sense a ladies' man. He thought of women mainly as co-workers in the field he tilled so faithfully. As teachers, readers, visitors, distributers of help- ful literature, and nurses, women were to him a right hand and a left, but no more. Indeed, until accident led him to the house of Martha Miller, he had never met any woman iwha ' A TOE FOR A TrE. i63 he cared to meet or know outside of professional oc- cupation. He liked Martha. There was no nonsense about her. She was genuinelygood, and although she had de- clined to take a class in his Sunday-school, Mr. Delaney was more than gratified at her common sense way of calling on and helping sick people, and especially her happy faculty of brightening up a home of gloom and disappointment. He met her, frequently on her charitable rounds, and had on one or two occasions partaken of her hospitality at her father's house, where he had become well acquainted with her sister Mary, and had wondered where under Heaven such a queer-looking fellow as One-eyed Charley had pro- cured two such charming children. Between Martha Miller and her young pastor no word of love had ever passed. And not only that, no word of sentiment or any- thing akin to suggestive remark had ever passed their lips. Nevertheless-and it is queer How naturally that "nevertheless" follows-close observers were quite convinced that there was an understanding between them, and in spite of the seeming contradiction, it is' more than likely that there was a sort of unwritten law, like a social code. The invitation to dinner had been gladly accepted page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] I164 A TOE FOR A TOE. by Mr. Delaney, and when his quick eye saw not only the Miller ladies, but their queer old father in one of the front pews, he could not refrain from taking a/mo- ment of his official hour for a personal wonder as to what the strange circumstance could portend. Miller was delighted with the sermon and more than pleased with the preacher. And as he bent his head when the final prayer was said, he almost resolved to give up Templeton, and, - if convinced that the Delaney of Chicago was the lit-j tie Harry of Milwaukee, to aid Mr. Russell in finding a real rather than a bogus son. At the close of the services there was the usual hand-shaking of the members and the "buzzing" of the pastor, somewhat increased on this occasion by the peculiar circumstances attending the dedication, and then, accompanied by Miller and his daughters, Mr. Delaney left the church. It so chanced that Mary walked at her father's side, while Mr. Delaney escorted Martha, a circum- stance that afforded Miller: food for thought, and added some little weight to the idea which had forced itself upon him during the closing prayer. Nothing of special note occurred at the dinner table, ( - except that the girls wondered Iwhy their father had directed Templeton's dinfner to be served in his room, until Miller said : "Mr. Delaney, you are a native of Chicago, are you not?" J A TOE FOR A TOE. 165 The clergyman hesitated a mm ent and then re- plied, "I really don't know, Mr. Miller, whether I Was born here or not. - I have some reason for be- lieving myself a native, and some for- thinking I was born in New York. My early life is largely shut out from my memory by reason of a severe illness I had when quite a boy, the somewhat singular consequence of an accident which, though trifling in itself, gave my nervous system a shock, and laid me up for months. From that, however, I entirely recovered, and with the exception of rather an ungainly walk' I suppose 1 am as hearty and rugged a man as we have. M y father, I am quite sure, was English; the name is English, and he had many habits which none but an English- man could have. He was a builder, and did a great deal of good work here. Poor man! he was very kind to me; and, having no mother, I was his entire family, absorbing all his care and love. His death was sud- den and terrible. Possibly you recall it. He fell from a scaffolding on the Episcopal church near the' post-office, lingered .unconscious but a few hours, and died without a word or sign of recognition. From that time I had a hard row to hoe, but " "But you hoed it," interrupted Miller. " Us," continued Mr. Delaney; " yes, I did hoe it, and save the aid which I got from the All-Helper I was literally my own guide, philosopher and friend. The war gave me an inspiration for good. The phy- / , page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] x66 A TOE-FOR A TOE. sical suffering I witnessed in the hospitals and on the field led me by a natural process to regard the 'moral degradation and distortion of the race, and I deter- mined if my life was spared to devote myself to the regeneration of my fellows. I am free to say I enjoy my work and take genuine pleasure in its prosecution. I saw so much destitution and depravity result from what I believe to be the greatest curse of our day and 9 generation, that I resolved to make Tempegnce a distinct and prominent feature -of my public" teach- ings.' Of course I encountered great opposition, but that's nothing. "One glimpse of a rescued man's face is ample com- pensation, and one letter of gratitude from a reformed drunkard's wife or daughter is cheer enough to pay for the abuse of a thousand rumsellers. But you asked if I was a native of Chicago, and not for an autobiography. As I said, I don't know. Father lived in Cincinnati awhile and also in Kalamazoo, and I think in Milwaukee, but he seemed more at home here t1an anywhere. How long have you lived here, Mr. -Miller?" "' Oh, I'm an old settler," said Miller; "both my girls were horn here. I'm a western- man myself and haven't been east of Illinois, in forty years. And I haven't been inside of a church in twenty years that I know of; not that I mean to brag of that before you, sir, but its merely a fact, that's all. The girl at- , A TOE FOR A TOE. I67 tend to that branch of the business; and do it pretty well, too, I judge." / "Yes, indeed they do," said the clergyman, and turning to Martha who sat at the head of the table he entered into a discussion about the church music, in which she was specially interested. But Miller didn't care about the music. He had his thoughts concentrated on Mr. Delaney's foot. 1' Has he or has he not lost a little toe," thought he. And he thought it till it seemed as if he should go wild. After dinner the ladies led the way-to the drawing- room, their father walking slowly in the rear with his one eye bent on Mr. Delaney's feet. The man certainly limped a little. But whether the lameness was in foot or leg, Miller could not determine. He wanted to ask his guest, but he did not dare. He thought of a hundred different ways of getting at it, but hesitated to put any oh of them to the proof. Finally, in despair, he excused hiniself, went to his room, took a razor from its case, put two handker- chiefs in his pocket and then knocked at Templeton's door. Entering he found the ex-lieutenant at full length , on his bed reading an official gazette. Templeton bounded to his feet, and said: "For a .. page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] I68 A TOE FOR A TOE. Heaven's sake, Miller, let me get out of this for a hour or two to-night. I really cannot stand such con finement. If Hardy is mashed, why need I be cool ed in nay room? I need exercise and must go ou to-night for a walk, even if it be but for an hou] Come, now, what, do you say?" Miller eyed him curiously and half laughed to him self as he said: "Templeton, how many toes havy you?" Templeton looked at Miller in unfeigned amaze ment, but seeing no reason to doubt his sanity, an( never having encountered in his host even the glimme of a joke, answered as soberly as he could : "Ten, I believe. At all events I had ten this morning." "I'm very sorry," said Miller; .' that's one toc many." "Well well," rejoined Templeton, "out with it, what's the joke?" "There isn't much joke about it," said Miller; "I mean just what I said, and further, if you expect tc prove that you are old Russell's boy, you've got to prove that you have only nine toes." "And one must come off?" asked Templeton. "And one must come off," answered Miller. "Good Heavens, I can never do that," said Temrn pleton, as he pictured himself in, pain, on crutches, lame and, perhaps, disfigured for life. "But I can," struck in Miller; "it won't hurt. I A TOE FOX A TOE. I69 can take off your little toe in a jiffy, and can dress it and tend it, and have you all right in two weeks, just as good as new. Seriously, I can. And equally as seriously, if you don't lose your toe, you lose your for- tune and we can't afford that; can we?" Templeton said nothing. He was a handsome fellow with a swinging easy walk, a firm step and an elastic bearing, born of per- fect health and his life upon the sea. He was not vain, but-well, he knew how he looked, as every one does, and was not dissatisfied with himself either. He knew that the loss of a toe would certainly lame him some, and possibly cripple him more than he could endure. He knew, too, the danger of lock- jaw, and he shrank from the mutilation also. "Well," said Miller, "it takes you a long time to think of an answer. What do you say? shall it be fortune and no toe, or all toe and no fortune?" S"Couldn't we get a surgeon?" replied Templeton, "I am afraid to risk your home-made skill.' "Of course we can get a surgeon," said Miller; "and ,if, when the world knows that Horace Russell, the millionaire Englishman, has found his long-lost son and heir, by means of a lost toe, this blessed surgeon wants to spoil the job, or halve the proceeds, what's to pre- venti' Oh! by all means let's call in a surgeon. Well, now I guess not. I tell you I can take that toe off just as easy as rolling off a log. It will smart , w , ' e page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] I70 XA TOE FOR A TOE. some; but a little healing salve, and careful dressing will cure it up right off, and in ten days or a fortnight you'll be up and about, as lively as a cricket." f ,' But you haven't told me why, said Templeton, who hated the idea of losing even a little toe. 's Oh,;I thought I had," said Miller; "the ' why' is very simple. Russell's boy's toe was chopped off with ja chisel. Of course he never got another. If he lost ,his toe then, he hasn't it now. And if you're to be the son, your toe is doomed." "All right," said Templeton, ' get me some whiskey to steady myself with and cut away. All I ask is that you are careful, and do unto others as you'd be done by." "Why, what's a toe more or less anyhow," mutter- led Miller. "Well, it doesn't amount to very much on another man's foot," answered the Lieutenant, "but on one's own its a very desirable feature. Now, you go and get the whiskey." Miller obtained the whiskey and the salve, and in less than five minutes the toe was off, the salve was on, and the wound was done up in rags and a compress. Templeton bore the mutilation bravely. Indeed, he acted better than Miller, who was keyed up only by the necessities of the case, and was forced to steady his own nerves by thoughts of the game he was play- ing and of the stake he hoped to win. A TOE FOR A TOE. I 71 Templeton laid down to rest, and Miller, promising to send one of his daughters to read to his guest, and- also to return as soon as Mr. Delaney should leave, went down stairs. ? But he had not reached the last step when, in per- fect, bewilderment, he exclaimed: "How in thuinder do I know which was the foot?" And then he- re-entered the parlor where the young women were entertaining-Mr. Delaney, or he was en- tertaining them, and it made but little difference to him, which was the case. If he had known that Harry Russell had lost' the little toe of the right foot, while Mr. Templeton had been despoiled of the toe of the left foot, Miller would probably have cursed his luck. But he did not know it, and, on the whole, he was rather pleased with his success. While Miller and Templeton were going through their amateur surgery up stairs, Mr. Delaney and the daughter of the operator were enjoying themselves below. The preacher had a fine voice and sang well. And Martha had a sweet voice and sang very charmingly. Mary played and the others sang duets. Mr. Delaney was fond of Russell's ballads and quite enjoyed singing "The Ivy Green," "The Earl King," and other songs.. of that style, and the girls were delighted to hear them. page: 172-173[View Page 172-173] i72 A TOE FOR A TOE. As Miller entered the room, Mr. Delaney was sing- ing: "Oh, a rare old plant is the ivy green." And to save his life the detective could not help say- ing: : "Oh, a rare old plant is Templeton's toe." But he said it to himself, and laughed at his own con- ceit. CHAPTER XXV. MAUD RU ELL AS FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. mother, as they were returning from a little shopping excursion: "Do you know, mam- ma, I feel quite ashamed that neither you nor I have seen Mr. Hardy since he was brought to town. It will be five weeks to-morrow since he was hurt, and two weeks the day after since the doctor said papa might have him brought o the hospital?" "Well, dear, what do you want to do?" replied Mrs. Russell. ' I don't know that I want to do anything that we all ought t[pt to do," rejoined Maud; " but you must remember the poor fellow wouldn't have been so badly injured if he hadn't tried to save me, and I think we should do all we can to make his misfor- tune bearable. If you wait for me, I'll buy some flowers and some fruit, and we can call at the hos-. pital to leave our names with the flowers, if we can- not see him." page: 174-175[View Page 174-175] I174 MAUUD RUSSELL. u Why, my dear 'girl," said her mother, "your father and I have seen John Hardy every day since he ' was brought up here. I have said nothing to you about my going, for the hospital, though clean, is a hospital, and you might have encountered some unpleasant scene. Hardy is doing quite nicely. I doubt if he is ever perfectly well, and it will be sev- eral weeks before he can hope to walk. I have no objections- to taking you with me this afternoon, but we must be sure to be back in time to m'eet papa on his return from Milwaukee." r "Oh, thank you, mamma," said Maud; "you always let me have my own way without. coaxing, and are such a dear good friend. I'll keep right on and get the things, and you order a carriage at the office.' Mrs. Russell went slowly to her rooms, wondering as she walked, whether Templeton's singular absence and more strange silence, were'having their normal effect on her daughter's mind and heart. For a 'few days after the scene at the Everett House, Maud was greatly depressed. "She was "never hysterical, but rather moody. If Mrs. Russell alluded to Templeton, Maud roused herself and joined the conversaRn, wonder- ing where he had gone and what had become of him. But both Mr. and Mrs. Russell noticed with pleasure that Maud's pride was wounded and h'er self-respect hurt so seriously that her mourning for Templeton MAUD R USSELL. 175 bade fair, in time, to be relegated to the back- ground. After their arrival at Chicago his name had not been mentioned but twice, and on each occasion Maud simply asked her father if he had seen any record of Templeton's arrival at any of the hotels. Between semi-weekly trips to the scene of the disaster, and daily conferences with Detective Miller, Mr. Russell's time had been pretty well occupied, al- though he had not been unmindful of the social at- tentions extended him and his family by people to whom he bore letters of introduction. Mrs. Russell was very quiet in her tastes and do- mestic in her habits. So much so, in fact, that, were it not for Maud, it is doubtful if she would ever leave her hotel during her husband's absence. She knew, however, the necessity of keeping, her daughter's mind busy, and never refused to go with her either to entertainment or for exercise. Maud had made a good impression on the friends who had been civil to the Russells in Chicago, but no impression other than that of passing pleasure had touched her in head or heart. Not that she mourned Templeton as a woman of deeper nature might, but she was worried mentally, and uncomfortable generally about her recreant lover. If she could have known that he was false, pride would have rescued her from grief, but she- knew page: 176-177[View Page 176-177] 4 I76 MAUD KUSSELL. nothing. From the pinnacle of affectionate devotion her ardent admirer had plunged into hiding. , ' Of course, then, she was annoyed and embarrassed as any other woman would be under similar circum- stances. Mrs. Russell watched Maud's health anxiously, and was delighted to observe her cheerfulness and ,con- tentment. } Nothing now seemed to interfere with sleep or ap- petite. Her color was good and her spirits generally fine. She was amiability itself, and the brightness of her little circle. While the two ladies were busied in their social rounds, their Shopping and driving, Mr. Russell, with characteristic conscientiousness, devoted himself to business. He had two branches to attend to-John Hardy and the search for his boy. As already told, Hardy had so far recovered that he was taken by stages to Chicago, where Mr. Rus- sell daily and. Mrs. Russell often called to see him. The other branch was attended to with even greatel assiduity and regularity. Mr. Russell had taken a lik- ing to One-eyed Miller, in spite of the first impres- sions, and after a series of adventures in Chicago, had gone with him. to Milwaukee. There Mr. Russell was bewildered. His old friends and neighbors had died or gone off. MAUD RUSSELL. 7 The town had become a glorious city. Nothing was as he left it. Even the place where once stood his modest shop and factory, had been merged into a public park or square, so that it was with difficulty he found it. Together they remained in Milwaukee several days, { during which Miller pretended to gain information about Delaney and the little boy'he had with him, and one morning, with flushed face and flashing eye he entered Mr. Russell's room, crying: "Good news, Mr. Russell, good news, sir; I'm on the track at last -thank God, I've struck a trail." "Is it here?" said Mr. Russell, almost wild with excitement. "No, but it was," answered Miller, " and it-led to New York. Sit down and I'll tell you all about it --unless you want to get back to the women folks to- night. If you do, let's be off." "Why, of course I do," rejoined Mr. Russell, and together they started for the depot,. stopping on the way to telegraph Mrs. Russell of their coming. "Miller," said Mr. Russell- suddenly stopping in the street, " wait till we get to the hotel. Don't tell me a word till we are all together." "--All right," returned the detective. At the time Mrs. Russell told Maud she expected her husband's return, there were several hours before the arrival of the Milwaukee train, and entering the 8* page: 178-179[View Page 178-179] 178 MAUD RUSSELL. carriage, mother and daughter were driven to the hos- pital. Mrs. Russell was so well known to the attendants that no passes were required, and they went at once to Hardy's room. Receiving permission to enter from the nurse, Mrs. Russell, followed closely by Maud, softly opened the door and stood at the side of the wounded man. He was sleeping. Maud approached with her flowers and basket of fruit, and looked at the pale face of the brave fellow who had perilled his life for her safety, and was deeply impressed by the change. Hardy had grown thin and his lips were pinched. His curly black hair was pushed carelessly back from a smooth, clear forehead, and his partially parted lips disclosed two rows of teeth which a belle might well have envied. Maud was deeply touched. . She had seen Hardy in the flush of strength, and had known him as a driving, energetic person, to whom physical oppositions were a playthings, and now to find him weak and helpless, aleep in broad daylight, ' on a hospital cot, was, indeed a shock. Hardy opened his eyes. Before him stood, with undisguised pity and sympa-, thy on, her face, the woman of his inner adoration, to whom he would no more think of speaking tenderly MA UD R USSELL. 1 7 9 than of flying, but for whom he gladly risked life, and health, and hope. Love cannot be analyzed. It defies rules, and ignores bounds. Whatever is most absurd, that Love does. That which is "never prophesied, is Love's certain doing. Grant but' the 'circumstances" and many cases " would soon'be altered. Time and opportunity denied, are the obstacles to many a love match, and the spoilers of many a happy possibility. It may be that these young people did not then and there canvass the exact status of their feeling for each other. A Most probable they did not. But, however that may be, when Maud handed Hardy the bouquet she had tastefully arranged with her own fair- hands, and smilingly said: a Dear Mr. Hardy, I am so sorry for you, and I do hope you will be well very soon," it seemed to the poor fellow as if he had inhaled several gallons of oxygen, and he had suddenly been transported from the cot of his ward to a bed of roses--from the. hospital to Heaven. "Now that I've found the way, I mean to come and see you every day," said Maud; "and I'll read. you to sleep if you'll let me." l If he'd let her! ' - page: 180-181[View Page 180-181] 18o0 MA UD RUSSELL. The ladies remained nearly an hour at the bedside of John Hardy, giving him such gossipy information as might tend to divert -his mind from himself, and then Mrs. Russell rose, saying: "Mr. Russell is ex- pected back at half-past six, and we must go now, so as to meet him." Hardy turned a little in his bed. "You knew, didn't you," continued Mrs. Russell, "that Mr. Miller is quite confident that old Delaney's companion, ' little Bob' was Mr. Russell's son?" "Yes," replied Hardy, "'so Mr. Russell tells me, but until I see and hear Miller myself, I don't take much stock in that idea. I wish I was able to be out, or at all events to be up. Then I could judge for myself. Please ask Mr. Russell to see me as early as he can to-morrow. I believe I'll make an attempt to get up then, and if I can, it won't be long till I can get my hand on the wheel." Hardy thanked Maud again and again, for the flowers and fruit, choice in themselves but radiant as evidences of her kind thoughtfulness of him, and grate- fully pressing her hand, he sank back to rest, as motherl and daughter bade him " good-bye." ' Handsome, isn't he?" said Maud as they stepped into their carriage. "Yes. I always liked Hardy's looks," said her mother. "He is not only handsome but good, which is better." MA UD R USSELL. 8 r- As they drove to the hotel, Maud thought of all she could do for the young man who had saved her life, and who, /.en she began to thank him, had beg- ged her not to say one word about it, if she wished to please -him, and in her programme, Lieut. Templeton had neither place nor thought. ! Lt page: 182-183[View Page 182-183] CHAPTER XXVI. ON THE TRACK AT LAST. WITH a quick, decided step, Horace Russell entered his parlor at the hotel, followed by Miller. "Well, daughter. Here I arn," said he, and hardly had he spokenw hen two pairs of arms welcomed him, and two loving mouths saluted him. "Here's Miller " said he, when the greetings were done; c ahd I tell him he must dine with us. We'll have the table spread here, so that we can be by our- selves. He has a story to tell, and I wouldn't allow him to speak of it till we were all together, so that we could all enjoy- it. Isn't that so, Miller? Come, mother, Mr. Miller wants to refrdsh himself a bit after his ride ; and as for me--well, look at me, I'm nothing but diist and dirt. How's Hardy?" The ladies bustled about as requested, and in due 'time the travelers were made presentable; dinner was served, the waiter dismissed and Miller proceed- ed to lie. . z ON-THE 'TRACK AT LAST. 1 83 If ever a man had a hard task before him, Miller had on this occasion, for it was absolutely necessary for him to concoct a report which would drive all in- terest away from Robert Delaney who, he believed, was the son of Mr. Russell; and tolead, in some way, the mind of his employer to the conviction that the little boy brought to the West by Delaney, the builder, was the son, in order that eventually he might produce Templeton as the man grown from "little Bob."= And yet it was an easy task. There was an anxious, eager father, looking and hoping for the desire of his heart. And by his side were two trusting women interest- ed for the sake of him whom they both loved better than all the world besides. It could not be very difficult to deceive that trio. At all events Miller was quite-ready to try. He would have given five dollars for a pipe, but as Mr. Russell did not even use a cigar, his chance for a smoke was hopeless. In a moment, he rallied and plunged at- once into his story. "I think," said he, "we're on the right track. In- deed,; I'd almost swear it. When you first came here I didn't see any very great show. in the job, but I've about concluded that I was wrong. I wasn't given any very remarkable clue, as you know very well. All I had to go on was, a boy with nine toes, ; ' page: 184-185[View Page 184-185] I84 ON THE TRACK AT LAST. brought out here twenty years ago by a drunken fellow called Delaney. There ain't any Delaney, as I canll find, except a Baptist preacher out here, and I know all about him, and have ever since he was born; and besides he's got ten toes, so that doesn't count. One day when I was just about discouraged, I ran across an old fellow-he's a janitor at the jail-who remem, bered a builder named Delaney, and said he had an idea he went to Milwaukee at least fifteen or twenty years ago. Well, I wrote over to a friend on the force,' and found that there was no such person thereenow, but"that the records of twenty years ago showed the name quite often. Then I proposed to Mr. Russell that he and I should go there. We went, and while you were being shaved, sir, I called on Billy Oake, my old chum, and together we hunted out the facts. It seems that the very Delaney you heard of in the Tombs, was sent out here by the New York authori- ties, and, although when he worked he was able to S take care of himself, he wasn't much better than a common 'drunk.' Our folks warned him away, he went to Milwaukee. IWhile he was there, he led the same kind of a life, but he was always very kind th a little boy he had with him. That boy might have been his child, and it might not. Nobody 'seem- ed to know. At all events he got so outrageous there, that, the supervisors shipped him back to New York, and the general' belief is he died there. ' Nothing ON THE TRACK AT LAST. I85 definite is known about the boy, except that he had lost a toe from one of his feet, and took splendid care of his daddy when he was drunk." "Poor boy," interrupted Maud. Mr. Russell sat with his eyes wide open, but his lips were shut tight. A thousand boys might have been in the charge of drunken men, but it was not likely that this was any but his lost or stolen son; the missing toe was con- firmation strong indeed. Miller went on. Every word he uttered was false. But every point made was strong for Templeton. "Well," said he, " nothing definite could be got at about either boy, or man, except that Delaney is be- lieved to be dead, and the boy was heard of a year or so after they went to New York, selling newspapers. The way that came about, was rather queer. That is, I suppose, it would seem so to any man 'in ordi- nary life ; nothing looks queer to me. The keeper of our city prison was in New York with one of the Mil- waukee officers, and this little chap was seen near the head of Wall street, with a torn cap on the back of his head, yelling out his papers like a good one. I have an idea that I can get more about that before the week is over. But, further, I learn that the boy was tracked to a coaster which went to Boston. He shipped as 'Bill' and was very sick when the) *, 1 - , page: 186-187[View Page 186-187] ,I86 ON THE TRACK AT LAST. vessel reached port. That's all I've got as yet, but-" "Well, I should think that was considerable," said -Mr. Russell, " for, of course, there is a regular system about such matters. If he was sick, he was taken to the hospital, and the records will tell what was done with him afterwards." "Yes," said Miller, "and that can be-ascertained just as well by letter, as in person. I propose having our Chief write to the hospital an official letter. That will fetch the answer quicker than a private letter." -( When can you see the Chief?" asked Mr., Russell. "Well, I could see him' to-night," replied Miller; "L but I thought, perhaps, it would help a little if you were to go with me." "All right," said Mr. Russell; " we'll go together in the morning. I -congratulate you, Miller. I congratulate myself. , I declare I begin to feel as if we were certain of success. Be here by ten in the morning, Miller. Don't fail, will you." Miller gave the protnise and retired, chuckling as he went-for he saw his way to Templeton's triumph as clearly as he saw the moon in the sky, All he needed now was a letter -from the Boston officials narrating the facts in relation to Templeton, who, it will be remembered, zwas known at the work- house aF "Bill," and only assumed the name of ON THE TRACK AT LAST. I87 William Templeton, when adopted'byhis Massachu- setts friend. It seemed perfectly plain sailing to Miller, who had not yet been brought in contact with John Hardy, and had strangely enough forgotten that Templeton- had once broached his nefarious scheme to the New * York detective, and had been bluffed. However, as matters were, he was satisfied ; and, as he thought they would be, he was content. He speedily gained his house, and after a brief that with his daughters, went with Templeton to his room, where they sat together until:long after midnight, ar- ranging and planning for future success. The Russells sat up late also, but all their plans were born of love, and all their projects pointed in the direction of hope and happiness, for the object of their search, in whom the heart and soul of the entire family now seemed wrapped. e S \ J1 page: 188-189[View Page 188-189] CHAPTER XXVII. THREE LITTLE BOYS--BILL, BOB, AND HARRY. MONG the letters on Mr. RusselPs table the following day was one which attracted Maud's attention the moment she entered the room. She took it up. It was addressed to Hor- ace Russell, Esq., but it bore no resemblance to an ordinary business letter. She wondered what itmight be, Mr. Russell soon joined her, and she begged him to open it first of all. He did so, and found it to be an invitation for him- self and ladies, from a leading lawyer of the city, to meet a few friends at his house on the folling even- ing. Horace shook his head, but Maud coaxed so strenuously in favor of an acceptance that he agreed to leave it entirely to his wife. If she said "yes," he would go; otherwise, he would not. TI-REE LITTLE BOYS. I89 When Mrs. Russell came in,her husband placed the invitation in her hand without a word. She read it and glanced quickly at Maud. That settled it. She saw that Maud wanted to go, and at once she said, "Well, father, I suppose Maud would be glad of a little change. I think we will go if you can spare the evening." Horace laughed good-naturedlfy. The decision was in no sense a surprise to him. Had Maud expressed a wish for a four-yolked egg, her parents would have secured every hen in the west- ern country, rather than appear averse to gratifying her desire. The evening came, and the Russells drove to the - residence of their host. The house was one of the finest in the city, the abode of culture and wealth, the favorite rendezvous of a circle of refinement and worth, where the best people of the city met and discussed and often decid- ed plans affecting the moral and physical projects of the State. On this, occasion a rather notable gathering was as- sembled, and much interest was felt in the expected appearance of the millionaire Englishman with the singular mission. Whatever may have been the opinion Of the peo- ple present concerning Mr. Russell, when he entered page: 190-191[View Page 190-191] e IgO 'THREE, LITTLE BOYS. the room with wife and daughter on either arnm, there was no division of sentiment about Maud. She was perfectly dressed and looked like a pic- ture. She was under, rather than above, the average h:ight, very prettily -formed, in perfect health, and flused with happiness and anticipation. Her beautiful hair was neither " banged," nor ' friz- zled," nor tortured in any way. She wore it parted in the middle of her head, brushed simply back to her comb .of shell, about which it was coiled in thick and massive plaits. Her dress was white silk, rich but plain, and her only ornaments a pair of exquisite solitaire pearl earrings and cross of pearls. Maud knew her beauty, but it did not make her vain. It pleased her father, and delighted her mother;- for what else had she to care? Mrs. Russell was the recipient of much attention which she received modestly and bore in a very ladylike way, while her husband, manly outside and in, was very sooin engaged in earnest conversation with several "solid men," who, like himself, were in- terested in the great problem of the day, and perplex- ed as all men are who try to solve the conundrum of Labor and Capital. "I dare say you think," said the host of the even- THREE LITTLE BO YS. T91t ing, " that our system of quadrennial elections, involv- ing frequent change of administration, has something to do with what you call our 'unsettlement,' Mr. Russell."! "Yes, I do, most certainly," answered the English- man; " it stands to reason that officials who are kept in place only by favor of party, cannot give their en- tire time, thought and energy to their duty. And with- out that devotion to duty, no official can be competent. With us a good clerk in the postal or customs ser- vice is certain of his position'for life. Here he hard- ly gets warm in his seat before he'has to make room for another." "I grant you there is something in that," rejoined the gentleman, "but I was referring more especially to the President." "Well," said Mr. Russell, "you would hardly ex- pect an Englishman to agree with the accepted Amer- ican theory that constant change is as beneficial as permanence and solidity. I know you argue that the President always exists, and only the individual changes. But I do not think facts warrant the asser- tion-when your 'man' changes, your whole gov- ernment changes, from cabinet officers to customs searchers. We, on the outside, as friendly critics, see better than you do, if you will permit me, a grad- ual tendency to centralization, which we believe will in the end be of inestimable benefit to this nation. 8 '- page: 192-193[View Page 192-193] 192 THREE LITTLE BOYS. And, unless I greatly misjudge your people, these con- stantly recurring excitements are more and more dis- tasteful year after year." "a You refer to the election excitements?" Yes. You elected President Lincoln twice, and it was often remarked at home that his re-election was but the entering wedge. His third election was quite probable; his death removed the test. But you re- elected President Grant, and " "Oh, Mr. Russell," broke in a jolly-faced party, who-had held a prominent judicial seat since his early manhood, and was as full of fun as he was of experi- ence, " that won't do. No third-term talk here td- night; you'll drive our Chicago friends wild if you start on that." "Oh, no, he won't," chimed in the host; "Mr. Russell .is evidently a Grant man. Let's hear the rest of your sentence, Mr. Russell. You were saying that we had re-elected Grant." "Yes," said Mr. Russell;"I was:simply showing that although President Lincoln's death precluded the solution of the problem in his case, you had at the very first opportunity re-elected a president, and now, as the next general election diaws near, I find a decided feeling in Favor of continuing the incumbent a third time, and why not a fourth and a fifth?" "Which of course you think would be a good idea?" THREE LITTLE BO YS. 193 "Certainly itwould. Not that this or that man is necessarily the best to be found for the position, but being there he retains subordinates who are familiar with their duty, and who are sure to be removed if a new chief is elected." "Well, as the judge says, this third-term discussion is apt to be a long one," said the gentleman of the. house; "but it is certainly full of interest, especially if not discussed for or against any special person." "Certainly," said Mr. Russell; "I was arguing for the principle, not at all in the interest of any individ- ual. We think from what we see and read, that Pres- ident Grant, however, has a tremendous leverage. His sixty thousand office-holders are a great power. He ought to be able to control the convention, and doubtless his name is still potent with thousands of voters in the country, where all memories of the 'bloody chasm' are not yet forgotten, and where the red flag' argument is still very powerful. And then the capitalists must dread change. It really seems to me, you know, that if the present president were to use his power, he could do pretty much as he pleased." Mrs. Russell had been leaning upon the arm of her host during this conversation, and several ladies had joined the group, evidently interested in the turn the discussion had taken. As Mr. Russell closed his last sentence, a young gentleman entered the room, and 9 page: 194-195[View Page 194-195] 194 THREE LITTLE BOYS. approaching the lady of the house, saluted her and her husband. After a moment's conversation he was turning away, when the lady said; "Mr. Delaney, let me present you to Mrs. Russell of England, and Mr. Russell also." Horace started, looked quickly at the handsome face and sturdy figure, And then grasped the young clergyman's hand with marked and noticeable in- terest. Opportunity was not afforded at the moment, but, in the course of the evening, Mr. Russell asked-, his host " what he knew about Mr. Delaney?" He replied that he was a very popular and much respected preacher of their city, a native and life-long resident of Chicago, and a man not only- of great force, but of great goodness of character as well. Mr. Russell brushed away from his imagination the dim outlines of a picture there forming, buit he could not Efface the impression the young man had made upon his mind. As he looked about the spacious apartment, he saw Maud and the young clergyman in conversation. Excusing himself, he approached them as Maud said: "I should be very happy to go, I assure you, and if you can call at the hotel, both papa and mamma will be pleased to see you." "Yes, indeed, we will, Mr. Delaney,'? said Mr. Russell; ' we shall doubtless be here three or four THREE LITTLE BOYS. 195 weeks longer, and if you can spare the time, we'll be heartily glad to see you. Where is it you want Maud to go?" ".I had been telling her of my new church, sir," replied Mr. Delaney; " and of what we consider a delightful feature-an admirable choir, with a superb organ, and your daughter was kind enough to say she should be pleased to go to the church." "Of course she would," said Mr. Russell; "of course she would-and so would Mrs. Russell and myself. We'll go next Sunday. Why can't you dine with us on Sunday? Oh, I beg pardon; perhaps Mrs. Delaney - " Mr. Delaney laughed. "You need have no fear of that good woman, Mr. Russell. As yet she exists only in imagination, and is as manageable as she is ethereal. I was trying to recall whether I had an en- gagement to dine at Mr. Miller's on Sunday. I think I have." Mr. Delaney was a clergyman, to be sure, but- clergymen are men, and men are apt to remember their engagements with the darlings of their hearts. It was the young preacher's custom, now, to dine every Sunday at Mr. Miller's. On that day One-eyed Charley was rarely at home, as the dinner hour was at one instead of six o'clock, as usual. Not that he would have objected to Mr. De- laney's visits. On the contrary, he liked the man, , ' page: 196-197[View Page 196-197] 196 THREE LITTLE BOYS. and, possibly, if he had kept his eye about him, he would have seen, what everybody else saw, that the cler- gymlan was desperately in love with the pretty Martha. And if he had seen that, would he have done his best to keep Delaney and Russell apart, or would he have kicked Templeton's dirty money into the street, and bade the schemer and his nine toes depart? It was finally arranged that Mr. Russell would take his wife and daughter to Mr. Delaney's church the fol- lowing Sunday, and they all looked forward to the time with pleasure. The evening passed agreeably. Maud was a favorite at once. She danced grace- fully and was very fond of it. Her hand was in con- stant requisition, and she enjoyed an exceedingly happy time. Mrs. Russell was well cared for, and Horace was the lion of the occasion. Every one knew that he was a man of mark among his fellows at home, that he represented very large commercial interests, and that he was at present engaged in a search as romantic as it was creditable. He was, not a brilliant man, but he had hard common sense, and like all sensible men, he made himself felt wherever he went. It was quite late when Mr. Russell's carriage was announced; then bidding his friends "good night," the good man with his ivife and daughter returned to their hotel. ' s , R THREE LITTLE BOYS. 197 There they found Miller. Without a moment's delay, Miller took Mr. Russell by the arm, and leading him toward the window, said: Mr. Russell, keep calm, sir; I believe we have a clue to your son. The Chief has received a letter from Boston, which says they have ascertained that a boy called ' Bill' was either adopted by a gentleman or bound out to a harness-maker, at the time referred to, and they will spare no pains to ascertain the facts, and when we get them, the game is done." It would be idle to attempt to paint the delight and joy of Horace Russell and his wife and daughter. "Truly," said he, " my cup runneth over." ) * page: 198-199[View Page 198-199] CHAPTER XXVII. THE SNAKE FASCINATES MARY MLLER. " N conversation with Templeton, Miller had so thoroughly convinced him that their de- ception would succeed in the end, that all thought of marrying Maud had been driven from his mind. So far as Templeton knew, Maud was Mr. Rus- sell's own daughter. Marriage with her was, to him, obviously impossible in the event of Mr. Russell's ac- cepting him as his long-lost son. And, beside, Tem- pleton had found in Mary Miller a much more con- genial companion. It was now nearly three months since he was first introduced to the Miller home. A large part of that time he had been forced into the society of Miller's daughters, and as Martha was de- voted to the humanitarian duties assigned her by her pastor, Templeton had no choice in the matter--he remained with Mary. Mary Miller was a good girl. \ . MARY MLLER FASCINATED-. 199 She loved her sister and idolized her father. Outside of the church circle she had but few ac- quaintances and no near friends. The society of gentlemen was unknown to her. What wonder, then, that she became interested in this young friend of her father, who added to graces of person, the charms of culture and the polish gained by travel? They read and talked together. She sang to him, and he told her of all he had seen at home and abroad. Insensibly she passed from interest to regard, and thence to love. In her eyes Templeton was a hero. No romance ever painted serener beauty than his. No fairy ever wove more exquisite garments than those in which Mary Millers fancy invested her lover. And he-well, he did not love her, for love was a V feeling whose depths he never sounded, but he liked her, and was pleased at her attentions. Intentionally he never led her a step, but, for all that, the steps were taken, and, before he really sus- pected it, Templeton found himself the girl's idol, her all in all, the one thing needful for her heart's com- fort and the delight of her soul. Man-like he did nothing to stop it. He simply shrugged his shoulders and let her love him. ? , page: 200-201[View Page 200-201] When he one day was left by her for a few moments; [iller being about his duties, out of town, and Martha on her circuit, TempletQn looked the matter tuarely in the face. "If I permit this girl's love for te to be known to her father, will it help or mar my lans? Will Miller consent to her marriage with a ) an he does not trust? And if not, what becomes ' her? If, again, I marry her unknown to er ther, am I not in. position to turn his flank when :casion requires, and, through his love for his lughter, hold him to any bargain and any secret, hether he like it or not?" Thus pondering, Templeton slowly walked the )or, supportihg himself a little with his cane; for though his foot had entirely healed, there was still sensitiveness about it when pressed, that induced m to favor it in walking. 1 The right or wrong of his conduct in no way ouble or influenced Templeton. All he-cared for was success. That, he believed, would certainly be assured rough Miller, in whom he had implicit confidence; it into Miller's hands he did not care- to trust every- ing-and because of that unwillingness, he deliber- ely concluded to retain the affections of the detec- re's daughter, and be guided by his necessities, when e question of matrimony arose. Presently, Mary returned, and said: ,' Oh, Mr. Rus- ! sell, here is some new music we have just received; wouldn't you like to come down stairs and hear me tryit? It's an arrangement of Aida, and they say it ! is perfectly charming." Templeton acquiesced, and together they went to the parlor, but it was some time before the piano was opened, for, drawing Mary to a seat, the curious fellow said: "Mary, we have been thrown very strangely together. Why, of course, you do not know, nor is it necessary that you should. Suffice it that being here, a happy fate has made me almost t your constant companion. Before my accident, you were kindness itself, but during the two weeks of my confinement to my room, had you been my own sister, or my lover, I could not have asked or looked for more attentive courtesy and help.'" "Oh, Mr. Russell, surely I did nothing more than was natural," said Mary. "That I grant," continued Templeton; "and the fact that it was so natural, is all the more creditable to you, and perhaps more complimentary to me. I find our tastes are similar. You are fond of reading, land on your shelves are the books I prize the most. you are devoted to music, and how our likes and dislikes in that direction harmonize, you know very well. On the whole, I think we are tolerably good friends, Mary, and why not more than good friends? Why not the best of friends?" 9* page: 202-203[View Page 202-203] 202 MARY MLLER FASCINATED. Templetoh had gone further than he intended. Had -he been talking to a woman of the world, he might have continued in that strain indefinitely, sat- isfying himself and amusing her. Had he been practicing his arts upon a flirt, he might have met his match in retort and repartee. But Mary was neither one nor the other. She was a genuine woman. To her ai spade was a spade. She had no lovers. Her father and Mr. Delaney were the only men she had ever known intimately. Her only outside life had been in the school-room. She was but eighteen years old. She never lied. She knew nothing of the world, its tricks, or its manners She believed what she heard, and invariably said pre- cisely what she meant. She loved Templeton. To be sure, he had never uttered a syllable wRich could be construed into a declaration or an invitation. But she loved him. And now that he had, with tender accent, respect-. fully, courteously and with apparent sincerity, asked if she knew any reason why they should not be the ". best of friends," it seemed as if her dream of happi. ness had been realized. Turning quickly to him, Mary looked her lover full ,in the '(eye, with unmistakable meaning, and i F AS iARTED. 203 MARY MLLER FASCi 203 then as he pressed her losely to his heart, she whis- pered her consent. scenes must If there is a Devil, how happy suc make him ! page: 204-205[View Page 204-205] CHAPTER XXIX. ON THE ROCKS. ;^^a OOR Hardy! How he chafed, and rolled, and tumbled,' K^ ' 'in his bed! J The days were years, the weeks were ages. It seemed to him as if his life was a blank, and he a cipher." That is, it seemed so until Maud Russell's daily visits made his life a holiday, and his experience an intoxication. Probably many may regard Maud's every-day call with disfavor. ' That is their privilege. The fact is, she did go every day in every week, carrying flowers and fruits, and books and cheeriness of-angelic type, making the sick chamber radiant with joy, and the sick man a convalescent speedily. Of all the men here told of, John Hardy was most liked by Horace Russell. v } ' I ON THE ROCKS. 205 He was a fine specimen of manhood-tall, straight and strong. , His features were regular, but not feminine. His eye and lip showed courage, and his manner, though not offensive, was aggressive rather than quiet. Mr. Russell had " taken to" him at the very first, and every interview increased his respect and esteem for him. He found him earnest, intelligent and truth- ful, and when, in a moment, the young man was re- duced to a scarcely breathing mass of flesh and bones, the strong Englishman felt as if part of himself had been broken away. , With Maud, Hardy had been thrown but very little until the trip westward. She had seen him every day at the hotel in New York, and he had been one of the party of four on their excursions in and about the city; still, until the memorable ride, which ended in disaster, Maud had really felt but little interest in the young man, on whose skill and service so much of her father's future happiness depended. Love of romance has a strong hold on -a young girls mind. Of late Hardy had seemed to Maud like a charac- ter in fiction, rather than a being of ordinary type. His personal history had interested her, as it had her-parents. His chivalrous endeavor to preserve her life, and shield her person, inspired her with gratitude. page: 206-207[View Page 206-207] 20o6 ON THE ROCKS. His suffering and long confinement excited her sym- pathy. And now that he was slowly gaining, being permitted to sit in his ichair several hours every day, his pale face and lustrous eyes, and evident delight at her attention, elicited an interest which strengthened at every interview. Mrs. Russell and Maud always called together, but I on several occasions Maud remained, while her moth- er drove elsewhere, and read to"Hardy the news of the day, or from such current literature as she thought would divert his mind. Insensibly they became well acquainted and thor- oughly at home in each other's presence. Hardy was one of Nature's gentlemen-a much better article than that of the world, although n9t so good a dancer. He would have died rather than say or do aught that could offend Maud Russell, and yet he loved her with all his heart, and worshipped hfvery shadow. While she was with him, he was in heaven; and when she was gone, he 'counted the hours till she should return. By day, he thought of her; by night, he dreamed of her. And why not? What insurmountable difference was there between them?? Money!' ON THE R0CKS. 207 Nothing but money i! Not that John Hardy sneered at money. No sen- sible person does that. Money is a good friend, though a bad master. What a good man can do with money can never be exaggerated. And the good men who insist that money is nothing to them, and pro- claim that they are happier without it than they would be with it, are either liars or fools. The world never yet saw the sane man who would not gladly take all the money he could honestly get. One might as well decline to use his brains, or his hands, or his feet, or any other useful convenience, as to ridicule the usefulness and desirability of money-- and the more the better. Still, as between John Hardy and Maud Russell, money was the only embarrassment. iMaud had none, but her father had millions. "Suppose," thought Hardy, in one of his ten thou- sand dreams; "'suppose I could win Maud's heart, how could I gain her hand? I know her parents like me, but would they consent? These English people think so, much of social position, and I am only a de- tective, the son of a scavenger!" Poor Hardy! Over and over again, he thought and thought the same old story, and it always ended the same way. He could not seem to bring it tonany other close. "I am only a detective, the son of a scavenger." I . page: 208-209[View Page 208-209] 208 ON THE ROCKS. . One day Maud canle alone. Hardy was sitting up as usual, and had been felici- tating himself on the progress which enabled him, for the first time that morning; to walk unaided from his bedside to the adjoining room, when Maud Russell entered. Something had happened. ' The girl was bewilderingly beautiful. Her eyes were half filled with tears, and fairly bright with excitement. Without stopping for explanation or query as to Hardy's condition, Maud broke out: "Oh, Mr. Hardy, awhat do you think, what do you think we've found? There's no doubt about it. Mr. Miller says so, and father says so, and father's almost wild with he doesn't know what;" and bursting into tears, the excited girl sat down, sobbing from the bottom of her heart. Hardy was alarmed. He had always seen Maud so quiet and composed, so perfect in deportment, so self-poised and gentle in her bearing, that this flood of passion disconcerted him. His experience should have taught him that a calm and placid exterior is rarely an exponent of a womanly interior. All he did or said was: "Why, what's the mat- ter?" . * ON THE ROCKS. 209 "A great deal's the matter," replied Maud, who threw back her veil, wiped her eyes, arranged her hat by the glassand continuing, said: "You know papa and that horrid Miller have .been trying to find -that' little Bob,' that ma and I never have believed in, and they've been writing to Boston-but you know all about that, for papa told you. Well, they've found who hle is,but they don't know where he is. And who do you think he is? The last man on the face of the earth that anybody would have dreamed of. Guess." "Why, bless your heart, I never could guess. 1 might guess one man as well as-another," said Hardy. "Well, it's Mr. Lieutenant William Templeton," cried Maud, springing to her feet; "thats who it is,. Now, what do you think of that?" ( John Hardy looked like a ghost. He was as pale as a sheet, and about as stiff. Two thoughts present- ed themselves at once: Either Templeton was an infamous and a success- ful scoundrel; Or, he was sincere and in earnest when he told Hardy that he was Russell's son, and wanted Hardy to help him prove it. If the former were the fact, how could Hardy bluff him? If the latter, farewell to all hope of happiness with Maud. t' t . f page: 210-211[View Page 210-211] 2 O ON THE ROCKS. "Well, what do you mean by saying your father is almost wild?" asked Hardy, at last. "Why, father hatesrTempleton. The verysight of the man used to make him cross and ugly. He for- bade us to speak to him. He actually hated him, and now to find-out that he is his own son; {hat they ,have been rude to each other; that-oh,/I don't know; it does seem to me as if everything and everybody was mad and out of sorts. Papa will be here, by and by. Mamma told me to drive down, and to tell you to be just as cool and calm as you can be; for papa is dreadfully excited. And he trusts that old Miller almost as much as he does you ; but we don't. Mam- ma and I never liked him. He rolls that wicked old eye all over the wall, and never looks at anybody. I hate him. But you'll be cool, won't you?" Hardy laughed in spite of himself. It seemed to him that Maud's endeavors to keep him cool, were very much like the effort made to keep powder safe, by stirring it with a red hot poker. He had np time to reply before the door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Russell entered. Horace Russell was getting on towards his fifty- fifth year, but he felt as if he were in his prime. He enjoyed perfect health, and this long rest from active and constant business life was doing him an immensity of good. He was handsome as a picture. A, I ) ON THE R OCiCS. 2IT His head was bald, but his eye was strong and clear. No beard obscured the perfect lines of face and mouth, and chin. His body was erect and stal- wart, and every action told of the manhood of the man. Although greatly excited, his strong common sense controlled an exhibition of his feeling. Taking Hardy by the hand, he said': "My dear boy, you cannot know, you never can, how perfectly delighted I am at your progress. I thank God, day and night, for it. You look better, you are better, and the doctor tells me we can have you with us at the hotel next Sun- " day. Much as I want, yes, much as I need you, you know I am most glad for your own sake.- Doesn't he look bright to-day, mother?" Maud and Hardy were deceived, but Mrs. Russell was not. She knew that her husband meant every word he said. But she also knew that his heart was crushed, and his soul in agony at the news brought that morning by Miller's eastern mail. Sweetly smiling, Mrs. Russell, who was the embod- iment of all good old-fashioned ideas of motherliness, took Hardy's hand in hers, and turning to her hus- band, said: "Mr. Hardy is doing so well, dear, that he will forgive you for being selfish to-day. Sit down and tell him just how you feel, and what you have heard." ,p page: 212-213[View Page 212-213] z 2 1 ON THE ROCKS. "I see Maud has told you the news," said Mr, Russell. "Only a little, papa," said Maude. "You would better commence at the beginning and tell him all." Mrs. Russell handed her husband a chair, and he proceeded with his report. "i told you that Miller had heard from the Boston people the bare fact of 'Bob' Delaney's leaving the ! ; workhouse hospital, and being adopted by some un- known party, didn't I?" "Yes, sir," said Hardy; "that was the last I heard." - ;"Well, I told Miller to send $100oo- to his friend, and direct him to follow that clue. He did so, and' last night Miller received this letter, which he brought tg. me this morning. I'll read it to you, if I can, for I declare, it has almost taken my pluck and strength ,away. I'll tell you why afterwards. Here, mother, you read it. Oh, you haven't brought your glasses. Daughter, you read it, Hupon my word, I dislike even to look at it." Maud read theletter as follows, and Hardy listened as if to a choir of angels: BOSTON, October 22d, 1874. MR. CHARLES MILLER, Police headquarters, Chicago. "SIR--Your favor of the 18th was duly received, ON THE ROCKS. 213 and requests noted. I am pleased to reply that with- out much trouble I can satisfy your bill of inquiry. It seems that the boy- Bob' was entered on the books as ' Bill,' and when taken to the hospital that was all the name he had. I was in some doubt as to his being the boy, but I have found a sister of the man who adopted him, a maiden lady living in Chelsea, who satisfied me on that point. She went with her brother to see the boy while he was, sick, and when her brother brought him home, she heard him ask the boy whether he preferred to be called by his old name or take a new one. And she tells how pleased her brother was when the little chap said ' I'll take your name if you'll let me.' So I am confident on that point. The rest is simple. The boy was thence- forth known as William Templeton. He went into the navy, and now he is a lieutenant in the service. a If I can be of any further-use, command me, and it shall be done. Respectfully, "JAMES HOWES, "State Constabulary." "What do you think of that?" sai Mr. Russell. "Where is Templeton?" said Hardy, without ,noticing the question. "We don't know," replied Mr. Russell. ," He left New York very suddenly, and has never been heard of since." page: 214-215[View Page 214-215] 214 ON THE ROCKS. "Does Miller know him?" a"I think not; he said he must try to hunt him up." "The doctor says I can go out on Sunday, does he?" said Hardy. "Well, that's day after to-mor- row. I think, when I join you at the hotel, I must meet Miller. You know he has never seen me. I'll meet him in your parlors as an English friend just ar- rived, and perhaps I can judge him better there than' I could if he were on his guard against a fellow offi- cer. Meanwhile, let him talk and plan, and report. It may be he is perfectly honest, and Templeton is your son; it may not be. I feel that there is some trickery, but " "Oh, my God," said Mr. Russell. 6 I thank you, Hardy. Much as I love my boy, much as I long, yes, hunger for him, I cannot believe that man to be my son. Hardy, my boy, I won't insult you by talk- ing of money. I trust you, my dear fellow, absolute- ly. We all do. Mother will tell you how perfectly I trust you. Now, don't let me weary you, but for Heaven's sake put your wits rto work. If there is any trickery here, let's have it out. If not-well, Heaven's will, n6t mine, be done." Hardy grasped the poor man by the hand, but he could not speak. He saw the grief and the wreck, but he dared not tell his suspicions. As. BEv ON THE ROCKS. ' 2 If Templeton really were the son, it would only make matters worse to expose his meanness and craft. j If he were not the son, time and circumstances would doubtless establish the fact. ! But Miller was now in Hardy's mind. And, sharp and shrewd, and hard as Miller undeni- ably was, it was a bad place for Miller to be. ',?' page: 216-217[View Page 216-217] CHAPTER XXX. MILLER DOES SOME TALKING. FACT is often quite as strange as fiction, and odd as,it may seem, although the Rus- sells had been several times -to hear Mr. Delaney preach, and, on one occasion, the young clergyman had passed an evening with the ladies- Mr. *Russell having an engagement elsewhere-the fact that his name was "Robert" had never been made known. Indeed, if it had been, it is doubtful if they would have thought anything of it, for their confidence in Miller had dot been shaken, although Maud disliked him from the first. And yet the simple fact remained that Mr. Russell was spending money like water, hoping to find a "Bob"Delaney, and was now confronted with one who had changed his name to "William Templeton," while in his own parlor his wife and daughter were entertaining the "Bob " of -his search. Of this Miller had satisfied himself beyond a doubt. MzILLER DOES SOME TALKING. 217 He knew perfectly .well that old Delaney, the builder, the " father " of Robert Delaney, had never returned to New York; that he had never left Chi- cago at all. He knew when and how he died; and he knew the young man at whose church his daughter attended, and who visited at his house, was the iden- tical "' Bob" for whom his employer searched, As yet he did not know that he was also the son whom Mr. Russell lost. But he was in dread of such a revelation, and feared every day of his life that some accident would confirm his suspicions. Neither did he know that Mr. Russell had met Mr. Delaney, much less that the clergyman was an occa- sional caller at his rooms. Judge then, his surprise, when, on Saturday after- noon, prior to the anticipated Sunday of Hardy's emancipation, Miller came face to face with Mr. Rus- sell and Mr. Delaney in the corridor of the hotel. Mr. Delaney's greeting was cordial and straight- forward, but it was really a test of Miller's admirable training. He controlled himself perfectly, and when- Mr. Russell said: "Ah, you know, Mr. Miller, do you, Mr. Delaney?-" both men smiled, and with some affirmatory remark, the thre passed up stairs to Mr. Russell's rooms. "Anything new, Miller?" asked Mr. Russell., "Yes, a little," said the detective. "I find that ? - \ - page: 218-219[View Page 218-219] 21i MLLER DOES SOME TALKING. our bird. took passage for Nassau about the time you say he left New York. His resignation from the ser- vice was dated the day beford he sailed. I have sent a letter, or rather the Chief has, to the consul there, with instructions upon two points only. They are, first: ' Has Templeton lost a little toe?' and second, 'When is he coming back to the United States?'" "Very important that," broke in Mr. Russell; "I declare, Miller, you give me new life. That man never lost a-toe; I know he never did. His walk was perfect. Bless my soul! do you know I never thought of that? Of course he never lost a toe." "But, my dear sir," said Miller, "what am I to understand? Do you want to find your man or don't you?" Mr. Russell looked at Miller sharply. He xemembered what Hardy had said, and here at the very first interview, he was disclosing to Miller his feelings and his fears. W "Why should I distrust this man?" thought he. "He is recommended to me by his chief. He stands at the head of his fellows. He has been kind and industrious. I pay him well. What can he gain by being false. What will he not gain, if successful? I'll tell him all." Thus resolving, Mr. Russell drew Miller away from the group, and putting his honest hand on the old rascal's shoulder, said: C"'Millert I know this man MLLER DOES SOME TALKING. 219 Templeton. He was a fellow-passenger of ours. I disliked him exceedingly. He was attentive to my daughter, and although that is generally an open door to a father's heart, I disliked him all the more. And besides, I am not Maud's father. She was Mrs.' Russell's child by a former husband." Miller's red hair wanted to stand up, but Miller's detective nerve kept his red hair down. "Not his- daughter," thought he; "what then might become of Mary, his own daughter; whose affections he saw plainly were twined and interlaced with Tem- pleton's very life. If Templeton could be proved Mr. Russell's son-he thought--of course he could not marry Russell's daughter: and if he married Miller's daughter, there was, another bond between the father and the conspirator." But this revelation opened a way by which Templeton might play Miller false. Once let it be shown that' Templeton was Russell's son, and that Maud was not Russell's daughter, what could bar their marriage-? Meanwhile Mr. Russell, all unconscious of the hubbub he had caused in Miller's mind, proceeded: "She was Mrs. Russell's child by a former hus-o band, but I, love her as my own. She was passion- ately fond of Lieut. Templeton, but I would not per- mit her to see him. After:the fire, the dear child seemed to droop, and reluctantly we consented that Templeton should call. A note was sent inviting him x* page: 220-221[View Page 220-221] 220 MLLER DOES SOME TALKING. to do so, but it was unanswered. He never sent a word of apology or regret, or explanation; and I had hoped we should never hear his cursed name again. Judge then, Miller, how. utterly -unprepared I was for such an astounding revelation as '-yours. I feel that there is no truth in it.- And yet-do not misun- derstand me, I do not doubt you-the trace seems clear, and I see that your mind is settled--" "Hold on, Mr. Russell," said Miller, with well as- sumed warmth; "if you were to say to me, 'Miller, -I don't' want this followed up,' that would end it. But don't make any mistake. I'm by no manner of means settled in my mind. No, sir. What I want is, first of all, to see that toe! Or, rather not to see that toe. And after that I want to see the rest of him. I think we must both own up that the clue so far is a strong one.' But suppose he has never lost a toe- that settles it, doesn't it? Well, then. But if, on the other hand, his toe is gone, we -must admit. again that the clue is all the stronger. And then if, on acquain- ance and careful examination, we find he is the boy, why it seems to me, as honest men, we must gay so. , ' If you don't like the fellow you needn't have any- thing to do with him. He can't prove himself your son, unless you help him, can he? ' Well, then. Now you jpst leave this to me. If you don't want another step taken, the job stops right here. If you do' on it MLLER DOES SOME TALKIN - 221 goes. Very much depends on the toe, and after all he may be a nicer fellow than you thought." Mr. Russell was impressed by Miller's manner, and lad it not been for a recollection of John Hardy's advice, would very likely have yielded then and there. As it was, he simply said: "Come and see me to- morrow evening. I'll think it all over, and by that time we will come to some conclusion." Miller bowed himself out without much formality, and Mr. Russell turned to Mr. Delaney, who, with the ladies, was looking at the sunset from the window. "That's a queer character, Mr. Delaney," said Mr. Russell. "Oh, Miller.? Yes, indeed. I can never make out whether he is in fun or in earnest," said Mr. De- laney; "his daughters attend my church and are among my warmest friends, I have visited at the house a great deal, though I see but little of the father. He is certainly a very strange man to have such charming daughters. One of them, by the way, is betrothed to a gentleman of your name; Mr. Russell." "Do you know hinm " asked Maud. "No. I have never 'met him, but he is well -spoken of, naturally, by the young ladies, and I judge, from all I hear, he is quite accomplished. He lives in New York, I believe; but really I don't know anything about it." page: 222-223[View Page 222-223] 222 MLLER DOES SOME TALKING. "It seems strange that Miller should have. two daughters and never allude to them," said Maud. "Oh, I don't know," said her father; "we have had nothing to do with him outside Iof business; although, come to think of it, all the time we were in Milwaukee he received no letters, and never spoke of home at all." "I suppose men in his position sink their individ- uality in their business," suggested the clergyman. "Yes, and they are naturally chary of their con- fidence," said Mr. Russell; " but I have met one offi- cer of whose friendship and regard I shall always be proud. When we left New York a young man named Hardy, John Hardy, was assigned to aid me in my search, and, as doubtless you remember, he was very seriously injured in the accident from which we so providentially escaped. I think I never met a young man so prudent;,so clear-headed, so honest. I de- clare I feel toward him as if he were my own son.. He has won my heart completely, and as for mother here, she thinks there never was such a man." "Oh, father, that's rather strong," said Mrs. Rus- sell; "but we certainly have cause to be grateful to Mr. Hardy, and, -as Mr. Russell says,- he seems honesty and goodness itself." ; "I'm sure?like him," said Maud; "I always did like him. He was so respectful and kind to papa, A and then he saved my life, you know, Mr. Delaney; and-- " / MLLEP DOES SOME TALKING. 2-23 "And so you chant his praises," laughingly said Mr. Delaney; "that is right, perfectly right. And where is Mr. Hardy?" "He is still at the hospital," said Mr. Russell; "but he will be here to-morrow, and before we leave !town, I hope you will meet him. You will take to each other, I know." ; In some way the conversation turned. Mr. Rus- sell and his wife, anxious and ill at ease about Tem- pleton, while Maud and Mr. Delaney, after talking, about some new music Maud had bought, went to the piano, where, for a long- time, the petted, girl en tertained the visitor, and cheered the sorrowing hearts of her troubled parents. How or why, we never know and can never explain,. but, at times, that which on other occasions would seem offensive and intrusive, becomes most natural and welcome. And so it was that Mr. Delaney, who felt, without knowing, that something had disturbed the comfort of his hosts, cemented the regard already existing as a bond between his new friends and himself, by saying: "Before I go, let us ask the direction and blessing of our Father," and, kneeling at his chair, he uttered a tender, honest petition for protection, guidance and forgiveness, to which, with one accord, they said: "Amen." , * N -i page: 224-225[View Page 224-225] CHAPTER XXXI. BEWARE, POOR GIRL; BEWARE. HEN Miller left Mr. Russell's hotel he pulled his hat hard and far down over his eye. Every word he had told his employer was 'false. It had not been received as he had hoped. Templeton had, indeed, informed him of Mr. Rus. sells dislike, but Miller had detected a mnifac, deeper feeling than simple dislike. ' He saw that the very name of Templeton was dis- tasteful to the entire family, and that Maud, instead of hailing the news with joy and hope, shared her father's annoyance and repugnance. And then, too, Delaney's presence. troubled the de- tective. "How came he there? What is he there for? Is it possible that other trails are being followed?"These and kindred queries thrust themselves upon Miller's perplexed mind, and insisted upon solution. Since undertaking this search,' Miller had not touched a drop of liquor. Now and then he took a BEWARE, POOR GIRL. 225 pint of ale or a glass of beer, but nothing stronger. He had deliberately chosen Templeton as against Russell, and having laid out his programme, pursued it with absolute loyalty. He had given time and money and thought to the prosecution of his plan. He had kept Templeton at his own house, had com- pelled him to sacrifice his toe, had gone off on long trips, apparently on Mr. Russell's business, but in reality to further Mr. Russell's deception, and had gradually worked up his case so that it was now sus- ceptible almost of exact demonstration that Temple- ton, little "Bob," and the lost Harry Russell were one and the same person. 'Miller had done all this, but with a detective's in- tuition he felt that something was wrong. Whether it was Delaney or Templeton upon whom his plan would wreck, he could not determine. In his heart he believed Robert Delaney was Mr. Russell's son. He had devoted days to the investigation, and had clearly proven to himself that the clergyman was not the son of the old builder, that he was the boy who e was sent with Delaney from the Tombs, and that he was lame. But the toe? Miller had done his best to ascertain if Mr. De- laney had lost a toe, but without success. He had ingeniously pumped his bootmaker and tailor. He 10* \ page: 226-227[View Page 226-227] 226 BEWARE, POOR GIRL; had talked with the men who were in Delaney's regiment. He had followed him for hours in the streets. And he was as ignorant now as at the first. Dreading the possibilities of confidence between Mr. Russell and his new friend, Miller determined to bring the Templeton development to an immediate issue, and went directly home. He found Templeton sitting with Mary in the dim- ly lighted parlor and greeted them both cheerily. His daughter welcomed him with a loving embrace, and hastened to order dinner. Templeton and Miller were alone together. The old man placed one hand on the knee of the handsome youth beside him, and said very quietly: "No nonsense, young man; no nonsense there. If you don't love that girl, don't pretend to." Templeton colored up and began to speak, but Miller interrupted him and simply said: "There now, that'll do, I know you pretty well, and you know me. All I say is, no nonsense; and that ends it. After dinner I want to see you alone. You propose a walk or a game of back-gammon up-stairs, and whatever you say, I'll agree to.". Templeton saw that Miller meant all he said, and inwardly resolved to back out of his pleasantry with Mary before the father's ire had good cause to rise. BEWARE, POOR GIRL. 227 And poor Mary? Oh! he didn't think of her at all. He cared for Templeton, not for Mary. At the dinner table sat two scoundrels and two in- nocents. The scoundrels were quiet and thoughtful. So were the innocents. Miller was -completing his plans'. Templeton was seeking a way out of his social em- barrassment. Martha had received a long, loving letter from Mr. Delaney, and was expecting a call from him in the morning. And Mary's heart was filled with love and admira- tion for the only man she had ever really known, and for whom she was willing to give up all else that made home happy and life endurable. Each was so occupied that the other's occupation was not noticed, until Miller saw the absurdity of a Quaker meeting then and there, and twinkling his eye at Martha said: "Well, baby, how goes our parish? Anybo dead, anybody born?" QuicF to appreciate her -father's intent, Martha laughed and said: "Oh, yes. And we are to-give Mr. Delaney a house-warming on Monday night. He goes into the parsonage to-day, and the church people have arranged a surprise party there on Monday night. I want you to go with us, Mr. Russell, won't you?" "He would if he could, I have no doubt," said Mil- ler; "but he won't be in town on Monday." page: 228-229[View Page 228-229] 228 BEWARE, POOR GIRL. As he spoke Miller pressed Templeton's foot under the table, and taking the hint, he said:. "I am really very sorry. I would go with pleasure. But, as your father says, I shall probably be away. I don't doubt you will have a jolly time. But be careful. Don't monopolize the pastor. You'll make all the others jealous if you do." Templeton uttered his protest jokingly, but he un- wittingly hit a nail squarely on the head. Mr. Delaney's respect for Martha Miller had grown into friendship, thence to regard, and finally to unspo- ken love. His attentions attracted observation and remark, until it was necessary for him to stop or go on. He preferred to go on, and to that end wrote his fair parishioner a letter, in which he in a very manly and characteristic way laid his circumstances and plans before her, told her that he loved her and ask- ed her to be his wife, promising to call early the next day for an answer. Martha had, of course, told her sister of Mr. Dela- ney's proposal, but had as yet found no opportunity of speaking to her father. Her heart had answered "yes" almost before the question had been put in form, and she knew her, father so well, that his acqui- escence in aught that could contribute to her happiness was sure to be given. Rising from her chair Martha went to her father :" .; * ^ I BEWARE, POOR GIRL. 229 and placing her arm about his neck, kissed him ten- derly on the -forehead. "I want to see you talone, papa," she whispered, and with another kiss left the room. 1 As Miller prepared to follow his daughter, Temple- ton said : "I haven't been out of the house to-day, Mr. Miller; what do you say to a little tramp down to the lake. Can you spare the time?" "Yes, of course I can. Wait till I speak with Martha a moment. Then I'll- take a pipe and join you," said Miller, and off he went. Templeton and Mary were left to themselves and withdraw to the parlor, where Mary took her seat at the piano and sang. Her voice was very sweet and true. She was especially fond of singing "The Wander- er," and Templeton was especially fond of hearing it. He rather liked the girl. She was pretty, graceful, good. She made no concealment of her regard for him, and he knew he had but to say the word, and she would go or stay, fly to the end of the world with him or wait his time for an honorable and happy union. But that wot he had never spoken. And Miller's warning had convinced him that to speak it and not mean it, would involve him in a quar- rei with a man who would butcher him as readily page: 230-231[View Page 230-231] 230. i BEW'ARE, POOR GIRL. and unconcernedly as he would an ox. So he deter- mined not to speak it. And the poor girl gave her heart to a man who not only did not want it, but was afraid to take sit. CHAPTER XXXII. FOREWARNED FOREARMED, MILLER rejoined Templeton after half an hour's absence and together they walked to- wards the lake. Miller puffed vigorously at his pipe, but did not speak. And Templeton, who was greatly embarrassed by his equivocal position with Mary, limped very gingerly, as he blew great smoky rings from underneath his long moustache. Martha had shown Mr. Delaney's letter to her father and read it to- him as she sat upon hits knee. The old fellow had a soft heart for his children and he assented at once to her desire. 'But what a vision rose up before him. His own daughter cheated by himself! Her husband, the real Harry Russell, swindled out of home and property and love by the rascality of her own father! A liar and pretender seated in the chair which of right belongs to Martha's husband! and he the instru- ment by wlich the infamy was done! . / page: 232-233[View Page 232-233] FOREWARNED. Even Miller was disconcerted. He had no fear of Templeton, but he had given his mind to accomplish a certain end,-had taken pay for it. He was not responsible for the curious combination of circum- stance) attending the case. But- Oh, those "buts." "What shall I do ?" thought Miller. "Martha loves and will marry Mr. Delaney. It is only necessary now, to complete the extraordinary drama, for Mary to love and marry Templeton. "Sooner or later it will all come out. , Well, what if it does? "The girls love each other and the lucky one will take care of the other." But the more Miller thought, the more complicated matters became. E The entanglements seemed endless. He could get no aid from Templeton. He had tried him before. Whatever Miller suggested, Tem- pleton would carry into effect; but his mind was not fertile and his inventive faculty was unde- veloped. Finally, Miller knocked the ashes out of his pipe, filled up, lighted, puffed, and then said: "Temple- ton, we're in a bad box; but it's a wise father who knows his own son, and I hope for the best. You know I hav~ all along had my fears that Delaney would be in our way, so I investigated him. I believe, /P FOREWARNED. 233 as firmly as I believe we live, that Delaney is Russell's SOnll. "The devil !" said Templeton. "Yes, and all his angels," said Miller; "and if I only knew for certain, that he had lost his toe, I'd swear that he is Harry Russell. But, as you know, I have been busy in our matter, and this afternoon I followed up my Templeton suggestion, by giving Mr. Russell a report of your having gone to Nassau, of our Chiefs writing to the consul there, and so on. He took it hard. He doesn't like you. His wife doesn't like you. And the daughter is worse than either of'em. Still, he seems to be a square kind of a man, and if it turns out to his satisfaction, toe and all, that you are his son, in you go, and time must take care of the rest." "Well, I don't see any very 'bad box' so far," said Templeton. " Of course you don't, because I haven't shown it to you yt. The 'bad box' is made up of two important facts ; their dislike of you, and their acquaintance with Robert Delaney." "Whew! I see," said Templeton. "And if to that," continued Miller, " they should in any particular distrust me, why up goes the sponge' and the jig is over." "Well, what's to be done ?" asked Templeton. "My idea is this. You go to New York, and stay there for about a week. On the arrival of a steamer page: 234-235[View Page 234-235] 254 . FOREWARNED. from Nassau, have the papers announce the arrival of Lieut. William Templeton, U. S. N., at some first-class hotel. I'll show that to Mr. Russell, and at the same time I'll have a copy of a letter from the Consul to our Chief giving a good account of you, and telling all we want to know, except the toe. That we'll keep for a grand sensation. You'can take the Pacific express to-morrow morning at ten, and from that on we must trust to luck, and stare fate in the face." "All right, Miller," said Templeton; "you are a 'brick,' and ten to one we'll come out ahead in this matter yet. But how about Hardy'? I understood from a paragraph in last night's paper that he was not doing well; had-had a relaps or something." "I don't know," replied MilEr, "about that. I do know, however, that it's a mighty fortunate thing for us, that we have not had another smart fellow to bother. Why, he might have upset the whole affair, if he had been with me all the time. As it is, I never hear him mentioned without a shudder." - And so talking, these two worthies gradually neared the house, and were about entering when suddenly Miller stopped. Catching -his companion by the arm, he said: "Templeton, you know I like you, but, I don't value your whole carcase, soul included, as much as the least of the hairs of Mary's head. I have seen with some dread her regard for you; for I know you, root , FOREWARNED. 235 and branch. Still, if you are serious and the girl insists upon it I won't stand in your way. But--" and here Miller drew nearer to Templeton's ear, "if you are not serious, and aught of harm befalls my girl, expect no mercy from me. I'd shoot you like a dog." Templeton endeavored to laugh and speak freely, but he failed. He knew it, and Miller knew it. The rest of the evenifig was passed pleasantly in the parlor, but Templeton retired first, instead of waiting as his custom was, until Miller and Martha had gone, that he might steal a farewell kiss from Mary. , , #ti page: 236-237[View Page 236-237] CHAPTER XXXIII. TWO PLAYING AT THE SAME GAME, ONE BADLY BEATEN. OHN HARDY'S arrival was an event in the hotel life of the Russell family. Though not entirely trong, the young man was able to walk from the hospital door to the carriage, and when Mr. Russell offered assistance to help him up stairs at the hotel, it was declined as unit necessary. A pleasant room adjoining Mr. Russell's suite had been engaged for Hardy-under the name of Wilson, by which name he was to make the acquaintance of Miller. Mrs. Russell and Maid had placed flowers on the table, and given to the room as home-like an- air as was possible; but Hardy needed no other charm than that of the kindly grasp of the hand, and the undis- guised delight i the countenance of every member of the little family, of whom for a brief period he was now to be part. BADLY BEATEN. 237 Hardy's mind was active, and Forked rapidly. He had devoted much thought to the complication as re- ported by Mr. Russell at their last interview, and confessed himself embarrassed. "If it can be proven that William Templeton was the identical Bob Delaney, what right," thought Hardy, "have I to throw discredit upon him? ' "And: if .detective Miller has really done a good piece of work while I was laid up at the hospital, what right have I to appear as a marplot and upset all his operations?" John Hardy was honest, as well as clever, but in this it;would seem as if he were more honest than bright. What if Templeton was Delaney? Did that necessarily establish him as Harry Russell? Old' Miller thought further ahead than Hardy in this matter, although it will be remembered that, as yet, Hardy had never heard anything about' an identification by means of the loss of a; toe. "Now, Hardy," began Mr. Russell, after they had talked over the hospital for the hundredth time, "Miller will be here this evening, and he expects me to give him my conclusion about Templeton. I will introduce you as my friend from Liverpool, Mr. George Wilson, button-maker, and as Miller goes, on, you make up your mind. All you have to do is to indicate your ideas, and I'll follow them out to the letter. Mind page: 238-239[View Page 238-239] 238 BADLY BEATEN. you. I want to do the correct thing by every one. If I have wronged Templeton, I'll make amends-but I haven't." Not long after this, Miller was announced. Mr. Rus- sell introduced Hardy as an intimate friend- from Liverpool, who being familiar with the whole story would make one of the council, on the occasion. The two detectives looked at each other well. Hardy was rather pleased with Miller's offhand way, and Miller saw swiftly a handsome-featured, well-built, honest-appearing youth, who- looked straight out of his eyes, evidently afraid of nothing. "Mr. -Russell has been telling me of your success; Mr. Miller," said'Hardy, " in tracing up little Bob De- laney, and of the most extraordinary coincidence that he should prove, probably, to be Mr. Templeton, a former fellow-passenger of his. Would you mind giving me, in detail, the plan you pursued? ' It must be very interesting, and I am sure it is most creditable to your ingenuity and skill as all officer." Miller longed for his pipe. It was difficult for him to think clearly without a pipe, and his lies were halting unless his head was enveloped in, smoke. But he was an experienced sinner. A shrewd old fellow, whose game was honesty. Looking from Hardy to the ladies, and then at Mr. Russell, Miller said ' "Oh, I don't know about the in- BADL Y BEA TEN. 235 genuity, Mr. Wilson. It didn'trequire such an awful amount of headwork to find out that old Delaney had moved away. Then by tracking his old compan- ions, and mine, I heard he was sent back to New York. Good luck helped me to the fact that the boy he had with him was shipped on an eastward-bound vessel, and the hospital record told the rest. It is a simple matter of fact, sir. We can't prove it by seeing the boy grow, but we can do what is just as good. We trace him by means of official documents to the date of his adoption, and from that moment the high school, college, and the navy stand as unimpeach- able witnesses." 'Have you kept any memorandum of dates?" ask- ed Hardy. ^ ",Only in my head," replied Miller. "Then this boy's name was -" "Mr. Robert Delaney is below, sir, and asks if you are engaged," said a servant at the door. "Mr. Robert Delaney?" said Hardy, springing to his feet; " surely not Tdmpleton?" Miller felt as if the floor was sinking from under his feet. And Mr. Russell for the first time thought of the identity of the names of his young clerical friend, and the little Bob Delaney of his search. For a moment, there was danger of a scene, but Hardy recovered himself almost immediately, as did \. . page: 240-241[View Page 240-241] -+ 240 BADLY BEA 'EN. Miller! Mr. Russell turning 'to his wife said: "I think you had better see Mr. Delaney in the parlor below, mother. Tell him we are 'very busy. He won't stay long, for he Gas a service, I am quite sure, at half-past seven." ' "Excuse me, Mr. Russell," said Hardy; " why not ask Mr. Delaney here? If his name is Robert De- laney perhaps he can tell us something about Bob Delaney--and at all events I wish you would ask him up." Miller said nothing, but he thought a great deal. , As yet he had no suspicion of Hardy's real business. But he was fast growing to dislike him and to de- sire to avoid him. Mr. Russell directed the waiter to show Mr. Dela- ney to their parlor, and presently the young clergyman appeared, bright-faced and cordial in his bearings He was gland to see the Russells and showed it. He was surprised, however, to see Miller, and he showed that. Mr. Russell it will be remembered had spoken of Hardy to Mr. Delaney and had promised himself much pleasure in bringing the young men together. But it was obviously impossible for him to present Hardy by his own name to Mr. Delaney while Miller was in the room; so he simply introduced the two, Hardy responding to the name Qf Wilson. All they needed to complete the party was Tem- i! BADL Y BEA TEN. pleton-but he was'on his way to New York as fast as steam and wheels could take him. While Mr. Russelllwas for a few moments engaged in welcoming Mr. Delahey, and with the ladies formed a temporary group in the center of the room, Miller occupied himself in preparing for a retreat; and Hardy from his vantage ground made an estimate of his Chi- cago comrade. Miller saw the dangerous ground on which he stood and determined to hold it only so long as it was wise to do so; resolving if any exposure should suddenly be made, to affect as great surprise as any, and to be as profoundly indignant as the best of them. Hardy was troubled. He felt distrust of Miller without knowing why, and believing Templeton to be/a schemer and an adven- turer, was resolved to trust him in nothing that was not proved to a mathematical certainty. When they were all seated Mr. Russell said: "Do you know, Mr. Delaney, we were just talking about ' "Bob Delaney' when the servant announced your i name." The clergyman looked astonished at what appeared a rather pronounced and unaccustomed liberty with his name, and smilingly replied: "Well, sir, I hope Bob Delaney was treated with all due respect. You mustn't forget thati I am in my new house now, with at least a full cubit added to my stature." II page: 242-243[View Page 242-243] 242 BADL Y BEA TEN. This pleasantry did not meet with the expected rec- ognition, and Mr. Delaney became so evidently con- fused, that Hardy, with his characteristic disregard of conventionalisms said: "Excuse me, Mr. Delaney, if at the risk of seeming over-curious, I ask you a ques- tion or two, bearing directly on the happiness of Mr. Russell." Mr. Delaney bowed. Miller sat as quiet as a cat. "Your name is Robert Delaney. Has it always been so?" "Certainly," replied the clergyman. "Are you a native of Chicago?" "That I cannot answer, but I hale lived here since I was a boy. My history is well known to my fellow- citizens." "Is there any uncertainty or mystery about your birth or early childhood?" "None, that I am aware of." "Is your father living?" "No. He died here'many years since. He was a builder and fell-" "A what " shouted Hardy; " a builder?" "Mr. Russell, do you hear that? A builder? And his name, what was that?" - James Delaney," answered the clergyman, half bewildered and wholly surprised. '" "Thank God! thank God!" said Hardy. "Why, I BADL Y BEA TEN. 243 Mr. Miller, your man Templeton is a liar, and a fraud and a scoundrel, sir. I know it. I can prove it. I have felt it in my bones from the first. Now I know it." "And you," said Miller, utterly disconcerted; " for Heaven's sake who, and what are you?" "I," rejoined Hardy; "I am John Hardy of the New York office, at your service, Mr. Miller, and I only hope I shall find in you as square a man as I try to be*." Words fail in the attempt to picture the overwhelm- ing gratification of Mr. Russell, the sympathizing and admiring glances of Mrs. Russell and Maud, the help- less curiosity of Mr. Delaney, and the consternation of Miller. ' I hope," stammered out Miller, "you don't for a moment imagine that!"- "Oh, I don't imagine anything," interrupted Hardy; " imagination is very well in its way, but what we want is facts. I know this fellow Tem- pleton, root and branch. He tried to bribe me in New York, and I expected to cross his trail here. I must say he played a pretty'bold game, and if he de- ceived you, he is a clever fellow indeed. But how is it that you never heard of Mr. Delaney?" X "Well, that is good," said Mr. Delaney, who was still in the dark. . "Mr. Miller has known me, and of me, these twenty years, and his home' is one of my ' , ,4 page: 244-245[View Page 244-245] BADLY BEA TEN. 244.. resorts. And by the way, Mr. Miller, this coincidence of names is strange, is it not? I was telling the ladies the other evening, that your pretty Mary is betrothed to a gentleman by the name of Russell, Harry Russell is it not? And here I am "- Hardy could keep quiet no longer. Impetuously he broke in on the unfinished sentence with "Mr. Miller, you are an older man than I, and possibly a better officer, but my position in this matter ranks yours. You may consider yourself relieved until I have seen your Chief. I will call on him to-morrow, and I promise you thefn a full investigation of this most extraordinary case. If the result is satisfactory, I will apologize to you for my suspicion; as it Is now, I cannot advise Mr. Russell to treat you with further confidence." - Miller was a man of the world, hardened, callous, and indifferent to opinion, but the fiery indignation of the young officer, cut him to the quick. But he showed no feeling whatever. - Taking his hat, he said: "I will see you, Mr. Wilson, or Hardy, or whatever your name may be, at the office to-mor- row; and if you think you've seen and heard the last of-' One-eyed Charley,' you mistake your man." - 1 As Miller went out Hardy stepped up to him and quietly said: "Take my advice, and make a clean breast of it. I know Templeton, and I knoqw you. Good- night." BA DL Y BEA TEN. 245 I \ . i After Miller's departure, explanations were made, and Mr. Delaney repeated the story of his boyhood, his father's habits and terrible death, and his general life as known to the reader. The early hours of the following day, found the three men still in consultation, and when they separated it was understood That Mr. Delaney was little ' Bob " grown up; That he was undeniably the son of James Delaney, the builder; That therefore little Bob and Harry Russell, were not identical; That Mr. Delaney's love for Martha Miller should screen the lady's father from exposure and disgrace, on condition that he laid bare Templeton's programme; for although there was no proof as yet, that Miller had ever seen Templeton, it was evident that the two were working together to establish the Lieutenant as little Bob, and doubtless to continue the deception down to the very door of the Russell home. Mr. Delaney left Mr. Russell and Hardy together, the one down-hearted because his time was wasted, and nothing gained ; the latter weary and fatigued, but thankful that he had been the means of breaking up what he believed to be an atrocious conspiracy; and happy too in the belief that he was not indifferent to Maud, or her parents. fv iL page: 246-247[View Page 246-247] 246 BADLY BEATERN. It would be difficult to say, what Mr. Russell dream- ed of that night. But Hardy dreamed of fairy land, with Mauid as queen. CHAPTER XXXIV. A SOFT ANSWER TURNS AWAY WRATH. ARLY on the following morning, Monday, f Maud,-who was a perfect kittenwith her mother, "drew a small footstool near Mrs. Russell's chair in their parlor, and resting her folded hands upon that good lady's knee, looked up in her face, and said: "Mamma, papa is very angry with Miller, isn't he?" Yes, dear, I think he is; why not?" "And is he angry at Templetor, too?i "That depends. Mr. Hardy intimates that he has reason to believe Templeton to be, not only an un- principled person, but a plotter against your father of the meanest description. After retiring last night father was very, nervous. He could not sleep, and seeing how excited he was, I canvassed the whole affair with him. He trusts, as I do, everything to Hardy, and will undoubtedly be guided entirely by him. It now looks as if we should all goaback to New York immediately. This time is all lost, and instead page: 248-249[View Page 248-249] 248 A SOFT ANSWER. of gaining any good, we seem to have had simply an- noyance and distress." ' You surely do not regret meeting Mr. Delaney," said Maud, " and one would think Hardy was one of us, I am sure. I declare he is like an own brother to me,--only more respectful. But do you think Mr. Hardy will do anything dreadful to Templeton?" "Ydu'silly girl," replied Mrs. Russell; " you surely cannot have a particle of feeling for a man, wo--" Maud stood straight up. "Yes, mamma, I have a feeling. I have just this feeling, that I should hate above all things to have William Templeton imagine for one single moment that anything he might do, could cause my father one second's annoyance. I would have him treated with absolute contempt." Mrs. Russell looked long an4 lovingly, at her excited daughter, and then taking her hand, said: "My dar- ling, I think we can safely leave all this dreadful busi- ness to your father and his adviser; but I promise you, dear, that before any harsh proceedings are in- augurated, you shall know of fhem, and nothing shall be done which can ihthe remotest degree affect you or put it in Templeton's 'power to think his- treatment of you, is the slightest motive in his dis- grace." Mr. Russell and John Hardy had been for some time in the reading-room, where Hardy had gone for ( A SOFT ANSWER. 249 249 the purpose of communicating with his headquarters in New York. As they entered, Mr. Russell noticed Maud's flush- ed face, and with some anxiety, asked if she were not feeling well. The young girl kissed away her father's fear, and extending her hand to Hardy, said: "Oh, Mr. Hardy, what an angel you are! A perfect angel of deliver- ance. How stupid we all are. Papa is just as bad as the rest of us. Why, do you know we met Mr. Delaney at a party, and he talked, and walked with me a'long time. We have been to his church, and his card with that very name printed on it, has been in my hands half a dozen times at least. And yet till you fired it out at us, like a cannon ball, not one of us even dreamed that there was the very man we wanted."- "'And now we find he is the very man we don't want," laughed Hardy. "But a very fine fellow, for all that," said Mr. Russell. "Yes, indeed he is," said Maud; "and a lovely preacher. You ought to hear him. He never writes a sermon. All he has is on a little bit of paper.? But he knows what to say, and how to say it." "I was a little staggered, wasn't you, Mr. Russell," 'asked Hardy, " when he told us he was engaged to one of old Miller's daughters, and-thought he should. be married in a short time?" II* / page: 250-251[View Page 250-251] 250 A SOFT ANSWER. ) "Yes, I was," replied Mr. Russell; " and it bothers me now." "Why, father?" said his wife. "Why, if Miller has been playing us false-as he has--he deserves to be broken, and punished. I trusted him. I turned myself inside out before him. I made him welcome. I paid him well, and if he cheated me--and he has--he has been not only wick- ed, but mean. Of course he should be exposed. Ex- posure means disgrace and ruin." "Well," said Hardy. "Well, his daughters are good girls, I am told. You know what Delaney says of them. And you know what we all think of Delaney. Whatever hurts Miller, hurts his children. And whatever hurts thefn hurts Delaney. And what hurts Delaney, hurts me." "Oh father, dear, dear father. Who wouldn't be fond of such a father," said Maud, and the impulsive girl threw her arms about him, and kissed him again and again. Hardy looked on with interest. Everything about, Maud Russell charmed him. The affection she mani- fested for her parents was simple and genuine. Her kindliness was always apparent. Her thoughtfulness of others' comfort and happiness and ease never slept. Happy to beof service to her, he said: "I think; Miss Russell, it will be easy to manage Miller, so that while his daughters shall be spared all mortification, j- A SOFT ANSWER. 251 he can be useful to your father. I gave him an inti- mation last night, on which I think he will act. If he thought fighting would bnng him and his man Tem- ipleton safely through he would fight; but he must see, and if he doesn't he will before we get through with him, that he has lost the game, and granting that, he will be very apt to make terms as best as he- can. I propose to say to him that if he will disclose the en- tire scheme, of which he is part, for his daughters' sake, Mr. Russell will forgive his offense." "But how about Templeton?" asked Mrs. Russell. "Well, Templeton has no daughter that I know of, and he's not only bad, but a sneak," said Hardy. "But what is gained by following these wretches?" said Maud. "Why, daughter," said Mr. Russell, "are we still tender on the Lieutenant; mustn't we punish any- body?" Mrs. Russell caught her husband's eye, and with a glance, delivered a protest more eloquent than words could express, and like a model man he changed his tactics, at once. "Hardy," said he, " we will send for Miller and compromise on your terms. To-night we will go to Parson Delaney's house-warming, and see his pretty bride, that is to be, and to-morrow start for New York. ' Little Bob' we have found. ' Little Harry' is still to be found. We drop old Miller, push Templeton page: 252-253[View Page 252-253] 252 A SOFT ANSWER. from our thoughts, and make -one final effort for my boy. If we find him you shall go home with us, to see the royal welcome he will have./ And if we fail, why then you must go home with us, to rest yourself a -while and to comfort me." Mrs. Russell and Maud went out to make some purchases, their donations to the young pastor; Hardy wrote and sent a note to Miller, requesting his presence at the hotel; and M. Russell busied himself with his correspondence. As Hardy, having dispatched his message, turned to go to his own room to rest, Mr. Russell rose, and taking him by the hand said: "Hardy, my boy, don't think I am unmindful of your solicitude and helpfulness. I am not a talker.-, I feel your kindness, and am grateful for it. Be assured, young man, I shall not forget it." D CHAPTER XXXV. THE SURPRISERS SURPRISED, ONDAY evening was memorable in the life of the Rev. Robert Delaney. His parishioners had arranged a " surprise donation party " for him, but, as is always the case, the fact leaked out, and being something of a wag, the young parson thought he would meet his people on their own ground, and beat them at their own game. The only invitations Mr. Delaney issued were to the Russell family, and John Hardy, a. clerical friend, and Charles Miller, the detective. Each of these he asked, begging them on no ac- count to be later than nine o'clock, and if possible to reach the house half an hour earlier. At eight o'clock the good folks began to arrive, bearing gifts of every sort and name, from the pon- derous barrel of flour in an express wagon, to the deli- cate Parian vase in the fair hands of the giver. Eata- bles sufficient to. "keep" a moderate-sized family an v. / r- page: 254-255[View Page 254-255] 254 THE SURPRISED PARTY. entire season were left at the basement door. Articles of chamber utility and of parlor adornment were handed in in marvellous abundance, while the study and the bookcase were liberally remembered. t Mr. Russell and "'bis party arrived early, and were especially pleased at the unmistakable earnestness and cordiality of the greetings between pastor and people. "I tell you, mother," said Mr. Russell, "that's the kind of a minister for me. He knows every one of these people, and they love him like a brother. No question about it, that young man will 'do a power of good here. I wonder if he wouldn't like to spend a few years with us." The rooms were full, and Hardy was looking, with Maud, at a beautiful edition of De Quincey, when Mr. Delaney approached them, and said "Mr. Hardy, I understand you had a long and satisfactory talk with Mr. Miller this afternoon.'" "Yes, sir," replied Hardy; 'and-the old rascal owned up like a brick. Mind you, I don't mean any- thing disrespectful to you in what I say about Miller. Miller isn't his daughter by a long way. Yes, Miller gave me some very important assistance, and I must say I like the way he acted about Templeton. He owned up that he and Templeton put up this Bob Delaney job, and said if it hadn't been for my notic- ing the similarity of the name with yours, he would have convinced not only Mr. Russell, but the ladies '- * x " THE SURPRISE PARTY. 255 and perhaps myself, that Templeton -really was little Bob. Beyond that confession he insisted it was not fair to expect him to go. I am convinced that in some way he expected to connect little Bob with the lost' Harry; but how I could not divine. For the sake of Martha Miller, indeed I may say for your sake, sir, Miller is as free to-day as you are. We will do him no harm. And hot only that, but I vol. unteered the promise that if he would write such a letter to Templeton as would scare the scoundrel from New York, I would never mention to the chief of police here our dissatisfaction or Miller's infidelity." "I am very thankful to you, I am sure," .said Mr. Delaney. "I have prepared a little surprise for Mil- ler and for all my guests to-night, which I hope will not be displeasing to you, to both of you, and if you will kindly join Mr. and Mrs. Russell in'the front par- lor, you will have a better opportunity of understand- ing me." Of course they went, Maud saying, as they passed through the crowd of friends: "I think Mr. Delaney is a very nice person, don't you"? I am almost sorry he is not our Harry, after all." Mrs. Russell had asked Mr. Delaney to present her to Martha Miller, but he replied that neither she nor her sister had -arrived. Later in the evening Mrs. Russell reminded her host of her request, and he made the same reply. page: 256-257[View Page 256-257] 256 THE SURPRISE PARTY. When Hardy and Maud joined Mr. and Mrs. Rus- sell, the latter said to Hardy: "Have you seen either of Miller's daughters, Mr. Hardy? I want very much to meet them, and especially Miss Martha. She is Mr. Delaney's betrothed, you know, and he seems very proud of her." "Well, yes, I should say I do know it,:' said Hardy, "considering, it has altered all my plans, saved Miller, and kept Templeton out of jail. I am free to con- fess I would like to see what kind of a daughter such a father can have."- Mr. Russell kept suspiciously quiet. He had had a long conversation with Mr. Delaney quite early in the evening, and had been very thoughtful ever since; k so much so that both Maud and her mother rallied IX him on his absentmindedness. Precisely at nine, o'clock the door opening into the hall near the front door swung on its hinges, a$nd four beautiful girls, of whom Mary Miller was one, entered, separating two by two, as they semi-circled at the end of the room, while Martha Miller, leaning. on the arm of Robert Delaney took her place in the centre. So complete was the surprise of everybody in the room,-that no one noticed the entrance of the broth- er minister, nor of old Miller, who quietly took a po- sition near the door. Mr. Russell enjoyed the scene immensely. To THE SURPRISE PARTY. 57 him alone the secret had been confided, and only to him on Miller's account. Well, a bride is a bride, even if she weds a clergy- man. , And a wedding is a wedding, be it in a garret or castle. It was soon over, But the night was far spent ere the congratulations were over, and the house was emptied of all but the bride and groom, their sister Mary, and old Miller. The old man was rather out of his element, but as Mary and he rose to bid Delaney and his wife good- night, Miller swung his hat in his hand, and said: "Robert, from this hour you shall have no cause for uneasiness about me or mine. I shall resign my po- sition to-morrow. -Mary tells me she must have a change of scene. So must I. These girls are all I cared for in life. To them I now add you. God bless you.' In a little while, a few days at most, Mary and I go west for a tramp. I don't know but we'll take in California and the Sandwich Islands-any- where and anything to please her-and change myself. So don't worry, Martha; you've got a good husband. Good-night, and God bless you." The girls hung about their father's neck and kissed him, while Robert Delaney grasped his hand, and bade him always be sure of a hearty welcome in the home of his son and daughter. page: 258-259[View Page 258-259] CHAPTER XXXVI. WALKING DOWN BROADWAY. THE Russels had returned to New York some two weeks, when John Hardy, who had left them at Chicago, for a few days' visit in Milwaukee, .rejoined them. "Well, Hardy," said Mr. Russell, after a few mo- ments' natural inquiry, " what of the Millers, and how is my friend Robert?" "I called on Mr. Delanev the day I left,'" replied Hardy, " and told him:what you said about his going over to your place for a month, and he promised to lay the matter before his people. If they consent, he will go; his church is out of debt, and he received your generous offer to pay all expenses in precisely the spirit you made it. He is a splendid fellow I * think, and that wife of his is just as nice as she can be." . "And how about Mary Miller," said Mrs. Russell. "Well, she's in trouble," said Hardy. "I don't understand exactly what it is. I only know that she is WALKING D O WN BR OAD WA Y. 259 now living with the Delaneys, and old Miller is fairly wild about something, of which he won't speak. He wrote to Templeton the day after the wedding, gave him all the points, and advised him to leave the country until your departure rendered it safe to return. Miller had a terrible time with Mary, and Delaney tells me the poor girl was frantic with grief, when her father told her of her'lover's perfidy. I imagine he only told her part- of it at that time. Templeton has gone to South America, but before he went, he wrote Mary a pretty rough kind of a letter: not ugly, as men look at such things, but killing to a woman. She drooped and faded, and was very sick, and while she was hanging between life and death, she told Mrs. Delaney something or other that stirred old Miller up fearfully, and when I got back to Chicago, the old man came to me with fire in his eye and said he would come on with me, as he had business with Templeton. I was rather surprised at that and said, 'Why, he's gone to South America;' to which he replied,' He said he was going, but I would not believe the scoundrel under oath. It's lucky for- him if he has gone.' So I infer that something pretty bad has happened." "Oh, I am so sorry," said Maud. "Yes, indeed," echoed her mother. "Well, go on, go on," said Mr. Russell; " where is Miller now?" , & page: 260-261[View Page 260-261] 260 WALKING DOWN BROAD WA Y. "I sent him to French's Hotel, dowtn by the City Hall," said Hardy. ' He wanted-to be at some cen- tral point, and handy to the wharves. I don't know what to dowith him. I don't like hirn, but it doesn't seem exactly fair to snub him. And then if I could do anything for his daughter, I should be very glad." "Yes, and we, too," said Mrs. Russell. "I suppose you wouldn't care to see him, would you, father?" "No. That is, unless Hardy thought I could be of service to the girl. I can't say I regard a man who conspired against my heart and property, with any special liking. Hardy, you do what's best, and I'll back you. Now, my boy, I have written to my people, that I shall leave the States six weeks from to-day. Until then, we must strain every nerve for the accomplishment of our purpose. And then- well, if then there is no clue and no hope, I shall at all events be relieved of a burden I have carried these long, long years. I have done my duty. Would 'that - had succeeded. And I have a little project in my head about you, of which we will speak an- other time. By the way, Hardy, don't you think it would be well for me to call on the Mayor, and thank him for his courtsey and letters? I haven't seen him since the first week of my arrival." "Just as you please about that," said Hardy; "he's a nice old gentleman, very kind-hearted and one of the regular old school." WALKING DOWN BROAD WAY. 26I "I suppose it will be necessary to send word sev- eral days in advance." "Oh, no," said Hardy; "we'll jump on a car any day and go right in. . His office hours are supposed to be from ten to three. There's no trouble about seeing him yourself." ("Why can't we go somewhere this evening, papa," asked Maud. "Where do you want to go, dear?" "Oh, anywhere. What is going on, Mr. Hardy?" Hardy looked at the paper, and after scanning its amusement columns, said: "I see they are playing 'ILed Astray' at the Union Square Theatre, right a the foot of the square here. How would you like that?" "Well, I'm sure we'v'e been led astray," said Mrs. Russell, "suppose we go and see others in the same predicament." "Will you get seats, Hardy?" said Mr. Russell. "Tickets for four, Mr. Hardy," said Maud. Hardy looked quickly at Mr. Russell, who simply smiled and said: "You did not suppose he would get a dozen, did you, dear?" "Why, no; but you know what I mean, papa," she answered, Mr. Russell thought he did know; but he held his- own counsel and said nothing. Arranging to join the party at dinner, Hardy, who page: 262-263[View Page 262-263] 262 WALKING DO WN BROADWAY. had become one of the family in the estimation of all, bade theim good-mnorning, and intimating to Mr. Rus- sell-to join him, left the room. Mr. Russell followed, and together they walked down to the theatre. There were no seats, and they were compelled to take a box or nothing. "Of all places in these New York theatres," said Mr. RusselD "the boxes are most uncomfortable. Two people can see about two-thirds of the stage; and the others are lucky, if they see a quarter." "Well; i suppose people who sit in boxes, as a rule, care more for the audience than the actors," sug- gested Hardy. "What an idea," said Mr. Russell; "what do you suppose I care about the audience?" "The ladies might, if you didn't." "Nonsense. If I thought my wife or Maud went to the theatre to look at the people, I'd " "You'd let- them do just what they wanted," laughed Hardy. "Yes, I dare say I would," said Mr. Russell. "Where 'are you going now?" "I was going down to the Central Office," said Hardy; " but if you would like to call on the Mayor now, I'll take you there." "All right," said Mr. Russell; "but why not go down Broadway instead of by the cars. I would very much like to walk down part way at least." , s WALKING D0 WN BROAD WA Y. 263 Taking the west side of New York's greatest high- way, the two friends, arm in arm, proceeded down, meeting scores of thousands of busy,bustling people, rich and poor, wise and foolish, like" the rest of- the world. Hardy knew all the notables, and as they passed pointed them out to his companion. ( Here comes one of our Congressmen," said he, 'Ihe's a gambler now, and used to be a prize-fighter, but he's one of our political powers to-day." "You surely do not -mean that a man can be in Congress and be a gambler at the same time," said Mr. Russell. "Why, certainly," replied Hardy; "why not? You see our city politics are curiously managed. We have two great parties; the Republican and the Democratic. All the foreigners are 'taken' with the name of the latter, and make haste to join it. Some of them are so delighted, that they not only join the party, but vote at the polls before they've been twelve months in the country." "Bless my soul," said Mr. Russell. "But they rarely hold office I imagine, do they?" "Your imagination does you discredit," said Har- dy; " they hold it all the time. Look at the police- men we meet between this and the City Hall. Here come three now. What are they?" "Evidently Irishmen," said Mr. Russell. page: 264-265[View Page 264-265] 264 WALKING DOWN BROADWAY. "Precisely. All Irish. We have hosts of Irishmen on the force." "Do they make good officers?" "That depends. During the war riots, the police acted nobly. It was feared that their sympathies for the poor devils who were dragged off tothe war, would affect them in the performance of their duty. But not at all, They obeyed orders like soldiers. The City was saved by their heroism." "But your aldermen and so on, of course, as a rule, they are natives." "Not at all. As a rule they are adopted citizens. Aldermen as a general thing are not remarkable for wit or honesty. Their stupidity is proverbial. Our sheriffs an Irishman. The county clerk is a Ger- man. Three of the coroners are German, and in-all our local boards-such as school trustees, excise commissioners, ward officers and so on-the foreign element is largely represented."' "How do you account for that?" said Mr. Russell. "It seems very strange to me." Oh, easily," answered Hardy; "the party in power has all the patronage,' as it is called. Pa- tronage here means public employment. The police, the fire department, the parks, the public works, the court officers, all are Icursed by the same com- plaint. The party in power wants all the places to pay for services rendered at the- polls. Thousands of o WAL KING DOWN BROADWAY.. 265 laborers are paid two dollars a day on the boulevards for instance, and every man of them has his work be- cause some politician asked it. Why, even the po- licemen don't know from day to day how long they are secure in their places." "But doesn't the Mayor attend to-" "The Mayor!" said Hardy; , the Mayor has just about as much to do with it as you have. He can't make nor break a single employe of the entire city government; not one of them, outside his individual office, is at his disposal." "But surely he controls the finances, and the man who does that is in the seat of power?" "Just so. If he controlled the finances. But he. controls nothing. Our financial chief is well called the comptroller. When he is notified that bills are to be paid or money expended, he makes out a warrant and signs it. The Mayor countersigns it as a matter of form. He. knows nothing about it. If he refuses to sign it, the courts will compel him. I tell you the Mayor is a perfect cipher. All he can do is to re- ceive people, review processions, respond to toasts, and be a respectable dummy figure-head. Do you see that man, the tall one, on the corner? That's Lester Walladk." -"Who is he?" . - "Well, he owns the theatre I showed you on the corner of 13th street. He is considered our best 12 ' page: 266-267[View Page 266-267] 266 WALKING DOWN BROAD WAt. American comedian, and is a great favorite in so- ciety, as well as on the stage." 'He looks a manly fellow," said Mr. Russell; "is he a New Yorker?" . "Oh, no. He's an Englishman, son of the great Wallack, and a very fine man." c, What a solid, respectable-looking edifice that is! What is it?" asked Mr. Russell. "That's Stewart's retail store. He has another about as large further down town." "Rich man, I suppose?" ' ' ,Well I should say so. He is reported as having about $75,000,000oo" "Bless my soul. Did he make or inherit it?" "Made every dollar of it." "Born here?" "No. He's Irish, or Scotch-Irish I believe." "It seems to me everything and everybody has a touch, of Irish or English in this town, Hardy." -"It does look so, I declare. Let's see; they are playing either Frenchj English or Irish, pieces at all the theatres.- Nearly all our leading actors are foreign. A majority of our politicians came from County Cork, and nearly every beggar one meets has a brogue on his tongue, or has left his h's at 'ome." "Those are fine photographs, Hardy. Let me take the number of this place. Maud was saying last WALKING DO WN BROADWA Y. : 267 night she must have some [pictures taken. Suppose we step in a moment." They looked at the collection in which Hardy point- ed out Edwin Booth, President Grant, Governor Dix, Mayor Havemeyer, Mrs. Scott Siddons, Miss Rose Eytinge, Rev. H. W. Beecher, Miss Charlotte Cush- mnan, P. T. Barnum, General Sherman, James Fisk, Jr., and other well known people, after which Mr. Rus- sel engaged an hour for Mrs. Russell and daughter the following day. As they regained the street Hardy noticed the time and said lie feared it would be too late to find the Mayor at his office. Mr. Russell was about replying when his eye caught the figure of One-eyed Charley Miller. Miller was walking rapidly on the opposite side of the street. His hat lwas pulled well down over his forehead, but his figure and gait were unmistakable. Hardy, without a word to Mr. Russell, ran after Miller, and surprised him before he had time to think or speak. "Hallo, old man, where are you going in such a hurry?" said Hardy. Miller stopped short. His hair was disordered, his eye was bloodshot, his face unshaven, his linen soiled, his clothing untidy. He was drunk. page: 268-269[View Page 268-269] 268 WALKING' DO WN BROAD WA Y. "Hardy," said he; "damn you, Hardy, old fel; ] like you.. Say, Hardy, I want to get my flippers on thal Templeton. Hardy, I'm drunk; and when I'm drunk I know it. I don't stagger outside, and I don't stag- ger inside. Where's Russell, Hardy? I like Russell Let's get a drink." Mr. Russell crossed the street and was approach ing the two, but Hardy motioned him away and he retired to a doorway, where he could see what oc- curred. - Hardy was very anxious to get from Miller the whole of Templeton's plan, and this he believed to be a good time to do so. He hailed a coupe and pulling Miller in, told the man to drive to police headquarters, and jumped in himself. And so, for a second time, Mr. Russell was unceremoniously left to find his way home alone. r, I 1 CHAPTER XXXVII. l JOHN AND MAUD. T the dinner table, Mr. Russ ell complained of headache, and told his wife he would have to be excused from going with her to the theatre, and that she and Maud must depend on Hardy for an escort. While they were discussing the matter, Hardy came in, and Mrs. Russell said: "Mr. Hardy, we old folks will stay at home together to-night. You take Maud to the theatre; she is very anxious to go, and I am very glad I have so trusty a friend to send her with." "I shall be very glad to escort Miss Maud, I am ^ sure," said Hardy, "but I think you make a mistake in not going." "Oh, I have a bad headache, Hardy," said Mr. Russell, " and I'm not going. So you just take good care of Maud, -and be sure to let me see you early in the morning. Where did you leave your friend?" "Oh, he's all right," replied Hardy; H left him fast asleep at headquarters in the matron's apartments. page: 270-271[View Page 270-271] 2 70 70HN AND MA UD. He will be brought to my room in the morning; and, by the way, suppose you look in about noon. You know the way, don't you?" "All right, I will," said Mr. Russell, as they rose from the table, and Maud retired to dress. Presently returning, the pride and pet of the happy pair, Maud kissed her father and mother good-by, and gay as a lark, started off with the happiest and proudest of them all-John Hardy, her lover yet un- announced. The beautiful theatre was crowded, every seat be- ing taken, and the audience peculiarly bright and gay. In the, orchestra stalls sat many people of repute, known personally or by sight to Hardy, and the time passed quickly as they waited for the rising of the curtain. The play was fill of suggestive points, all of which Hardy felt; some of which made Maud wonder. At the close of the second act, Maud was in ecsta- sies. She had not often attended theatrical represen. tations, and the excitement told upon her. She was bewilderingly beautiful, and many a glass was turned full upon her flushed and innocent face, as uncon- scious of the attention she looked out upon the people. "Your father asked me to engage rooms on the steamer to-day," said Hardy. "I know it," said Maud; "I am very sorrv.. A- yOHN-I AND MA UD. 2 7 month will give us very little time here. I am just beginning to know New York, and I wanted to see Niagara before we went home. You don't know how pleasant it is, to have you with us, Mr. Hardy. Mamma said to-day, she should miss you awfully when we part." "And you?" "Oh, you know I shall. I am sure you have been better to me than any,brother. From the dreadful hour when you saved me from injury, if not from death, you have been even more than a brother could be." "I wish I might. That is, I wish it were possible for me to be where I might always be of service to you, ,Miss Maud. - The kindness and sympathy shown me by your father touch me very nearly, I assure you, and when he goes, I shall feel as if the world were dark indeed." "But papa says you are going over with us," said Maud. "He says you need rest, and he's} going to get it for you. You won't spoil all our plans, will you? Say you won't, please." Hardy said nothing. He loved the girl devotedly, but he loved her honorably. He would have given ten years of his life to feel that he had the right to woo her, but he feared it would 'not be fair towards the parents who trusted him. "Well, I declare, Mr. Hardy," said, Maud, " you are as sober as a judge. Why don't you answer me?" l . , I page: 272-273[View Page 272-273] 272 7OHNV AND MA UD. "Really, I cannot. l' don't know that I can get leave of absence, and besides, H" Yt You what? I believe my soul there's something romantic in all this. It isn't pretty Mary Miller, is it?" And Maud laughed merrily as she asked the ques- tion. "Come, come, Mr. Hardy, I'll tell papa if you don't entertain me. Is there a lady in the case?" (' Yes, a dear sweet lady, the dearest, and sweetest in the world." "And won't she let you go to Europe?" Ha;rdy looked at her. He loved her, and he hoped she knew it, although he had never said it. He was sitting at her side, but back so that he neither saw the audience, nor could be seen by it. Maud turned toward Hardy and he, impulsive in spite of his caution, took her hand firmly in his and with an earnestness too marked to be trifled with said: "Maud, you are thaf lady. For you I have perilled life, but it was as nothing. I have loved you since we met. I hated and pursued that scoundrel because he was playing with your love. I began to take a deep interest in serving your father, because I loved you, though in the service I grew to love him. To please you is my ambition, to win you would be a reward of which at least, I have a right to think, if not to hope for. You are dearer tome than life. Your t. OHN AND MA UD. 273 love, I would prize above all earthly blessings. Am I rash in telling you this? Do I offend? I would not have spoken had I counselled of my pride, but asking love, I dared to speak. May I have hope?" Maud's color-ealne and died away. She knew that Hardy's manliness was as honest and trustworthy as that of her father. She respected, esteemed, admired him, but'did she love him? - She allowed her hand to remain in his for a moment. Then smiling sweetly she withdrew it, and said: "Thank you, Mr. Hardy. I thank you. You have neither annoyed nor offended me. I will tell you more when we leave this place." "But may I hope?" "Yes, hope." "I will speak to your father to-morrow. I will tell him of my love for you. I will beg him to lay aside his prejudice. I will-" "Will you go home with us?" "Yes, to the end of the earth." The play proceeded on the stage and when the cur- tain fell on the final scene, so near as we can judge, the dramatic unities both in front and behind the footlights were in'a remarkable state of harmony. Maud and Hardy walked slowly back to the hotel --he an accepted lover, she a hopeful, happy girl. 1 2* , . * . page: 274-275[View Page 274-275] or CHAPTER XXXVIII. AT LAST. AT LAST. THE next morning Hardy was up bright and early, at peace with himself and all the world. He was in love with AMaud, and she with him. What more could man desire? ... What more? ; Oh, that it was that made him ponder the past, con- sider the present and forecast the future. In the past he saw the son of a scavenger:. In the present he beheld a detective police officer. And in the future-what?- Would Mr. Russell, rich, influential, stern and proud, give the hand of his daughter, to a man whose hundreds of dollars numbered less- than his own scores of thousands? And Mrs. Russell, kind and indulgent as she always was, would it be possible to induce her to so great a sacrifice? These and kindred questions sobered his elated 1I1 AT LAST. 275 heart and toned down his buoyant spirit, until appre- hension took the place of peace, and doubt reigned supreme in the young man's mind. He had no fear as to Maud. Before he parted from her at the hotel she had given him ample assurance of her love, and together they had planned that the best way to approach Mr. Russell was through-his wife. That Maud undertook to do. The dear girl knew that her mother's heart was bound up in her happiness, and that once a party to her daughter's project, nothing could turn or swerve her froim her purpose. Hardy lived in lodgings and took his meals at an adjacent restaurant. On this occasion he breakfast- ed unusually early, so that when old Miller was brought to his rooms he would be sure to be at home. Having read the papers, Hardy naturally thought about Maud. And that led him to think of his mother and of a picture he had of her, which he had promised to show to Maud. He took the fading daguerreotype from its place on the mantel, and looked long and lovingly at the seamed and wrinkled-face disclosed. ^ It was not a handsome face, but it was his mother's. ;How well he remem- bered her kind care and thoughtful ways. She was always very fond of him, and shared her husband's ; . page: 276-277[View Page 276-277] 276 . AT LAST. pride in all his progress at school. And when he grew tall and manly, and began to bring home the fruits of his industry, her old eyes often filled with tears of gratitude, and her trembling lips uttered many pray- ers of thanks that the boy of her love was- not like the, rude and reckless companions of his age. Her pld-fashionedhail-studded, hair-covered trunk stood in one corner of Hardy's room. Years ago he had opened it once and saw bundles and books, and papers and letters, none of which he looked at. Miller had not yet arrived, and the thought oc- curred to- Hardy that this was a good time for him to empty the trunk, examine its contents, throw away the useless matter, and rearrange the rest. Suiting the action to the thought, he hauled the trunk from its corner, opened it, and turned its con- , tents on the bed. As he did so, a knock was heard at the door. "Come in," said Hardy. - "All right," said a voice, and in walked "One-eyed Miller." 4 They were going to send a' cop' round with me," said he; " but when they told me the way, I found it myself; and here .[ am, as straight as a ruler, but I want a pipe." "I am glad to see you, Miller," said Hardy; "you AT LAST. 2" were seedy enough yesterday. Why, how nice you look. Been to a barber's?" "Yes," said Miller, as he puffed fast, and, strong. "Yes, I wanted tow see the old man and make it all right. I don't worry much about my conscience, you know, but Mary and Martha have been at me about it, till it seemed as if there was a little hell inside of me. I I can't find that infernal scoundrel of a Temple- ton, with his black eye and curly hair. I'd Temple- ton him so quick, he wouldn't know which end he stood on if I had a chance at him. What are you do- ing with that -kit of papers?- Heavens, what a lot of letters! 1 hate letters. That is, all but the girls' let- ters. Every letter my girls ever wrote to me, I've got, and some of them are very good, I tell you.'; If Miller had blustered, Hardy would have met him. ' If he had commenced to lie, Hai'dy would have humored him. As it was, Miller was fast making a conquest. Hardy knew enough of Miller's daughters to convince him that, prior to Templeton's advent, their home was happy and they contented. And he now knew that in some way Templeton had not only endeavored to deceive and practice fraud on Mr. Russell, but had done, through Mary, a great wrong to old Miller himself. Sitting on the edge of the bed, while Miller took a page: 278-279[View Page 278-279] 278 ; AT LAST. chair, Hardy said: "Miller, if I had gone into this job for money, and had been successful, I would have made a fortune. As it is, if my own interest was all ^ I thought of, I might haul in a very big pile. You - know enough of men in general, and of Mr. Russell especially, to see that. And you have done enough business with me to know that I am a man who deals on the square, and tells the truth. I not only haven't made a dollar out of this, but I don't intend to. Mr. Russell was not sanguine at the first, and to do bhiU justice, he always agreed with me that the Bob Delaney boy was much more likely to be Bob Delaney than Harry Russell. Still, the search has done the old man a benefit; it has relieved his mind. He has done all he could, and that's all any man can be asked to do. Ihad a chance to go in with Tem- pleton; the same you had. I didn't bluff him at first, I let him go on, and if I hadn't found him at the Tombs, trying tohoneyfugle mother Foster, I think I shotild have given him just rope enough to hang himself with. Then he tried it on you, and I make no bones of telling you, you played a deucedly dirty trick on one of the best men living. And besides-' but, never mind, we won't go into that." "No," said Miller. "You're right; it was a mean game, but let bygones be bygones, I'm willing." Hardy laughed, and went on: "Of course you are. Now, you have dond the "Ofs AT LAST. 279 square thing by us because you had to, and you must admit that you've only done it as far as you were forced to; don't you think you would do a better thing if you were to tell me the whole plot from end to end? It won't harm you; it may lead to the pun- ishment of Templeton." As Hardy finished the sentence, he rose from. the bed on which he was sitting, intending to lower a cur- tain, so as to shut out the sun, which'shone directly in his face.' As he did so, his foot tripped on the top of. the trunk as it lay on the floor, and to save him- self he caught quickly at the coverlid of the bed. This disarranged the bundles and papers, some of which were thrown upon the floor. Miller assisted Hardy in picking them up, and as he did so, said: "Hallo, Hardy, what's this? Here's a bundle all tied up and sealed up as if it was a mummy. I declare, I haven't seen so much sealing wax since I was a boy. Seems to me youkre not over careful of your jewelry." Miller pitched the package to Hardy, who was about to- place it with the rest, when he saw in his mother's cramped and awkward hand, his own name, written on the paper. The bundle was soft, and apparently contained clothing. Miller eyed him curiously. - Why don't you open it?" said he. J ' . . page: 280-281[View Page 280-281] 280 AT LAST. . Hardy said nothing, but felt of the package from end to end. Then taking his knife from his pocket, he cut the strings. ' Inside the paper was a roll of clothing, and a letter addressed u JOHiN HARDY, "New York. ", If dead, destroy this." Hardy was astounded. For years that trunk had been under his very eye. He had opened it but twice since it canie in his possession. Its contents he had never looked at nor cared for, J although he had now and then thought he would at some time clean out the rubbish, and preserve what- ever was worth keeping. Yet in that trunk was a letter from the dearest mother man ever had. He loved her living, and he loved her dead. She had been so much to him that he never thought of her without a smile or a tear; and yet for years within reach of-his hand had been this letter. "Why, Miller," said he, "this is mother's. This lefter's from mother What can it be? Why have I ! never seen it before? I want to read it, yet I do) not. Here, you read it. No, give it to me. What an idea! Bless her heart! That's her picture, Miller. , . X AT LAST. 28I Bless her heart! She was just the best mother boy or man ever had., ;I'1 read the letter." Forgetting Miller and all else besides, Hardy open- ed the carefully sealed envelope, and read aloud as follows: "MY OWN DEAR JACK- "God grant you may never see these lines. Your mother loves you, Jacky, my boy; loves you, loves you. I am going to write something because I ought to, aird not because I want to. I am getting old, and it won't be long before I go to meet him you used to call your daddy. My conscience is heavy, Jacky. My conscience makes me do this. I don't write it for you, I only write it because my conscience makes me. Don't think your old mother doesn't love you, boy. Don't think your daddy didn't. You know we did, and this minute, Jacky, you are sleeping where I1 hear you breathe; and this minute Hkissed your fore- head as you slept. Jacky, you are not my son. Don't be angry, dear. You are my own dear boy all the same, and, I love you just the same. But you are not my son. - had a little fellow, too sweet to stay here long; and one day, these many, many years ago, your father brought you home. ' Here, dear,' said he, 'I've found another for you,' and you came right in my heart at once. He found you in the sewer, dear. He was out with his bag, and as he looked in the * F page: 282-283[View Page 282-283] 282- AT-LAST. ) great hole at the foot of the City Hall Park, he heard a cry. He was a good man. He got you out. He brought you home. You cried for ' mama,' and yoii called for ' papa,', but you were young, Jacky, dear, and such a pretty boy, I could not let you go. Next day, " dear, we dressed you in our little Jacky's clothes, and tried to coax and question you. But it was all maimma' and 'papa' with you. Your clothes were spoiled, and you were sick. You only kept up a few hours, when fever set in. The doctor gave no hope, but I nursed you through, my boy, and in about a month you sat up straight in bed, for all the world like. a beautiful star. But you knew nothing. We tried very hard, but could get nothing from you. I was sorry and glad. I wanted to keep you. We called you after my dead darling, and I hugged you in my arms for him. That's all, Jack, my boy. Let me call you Jack, my son. I shall do these clothes up in a bundle, and put this letter with-'em., You won't be likely to see it, Jack. If you don't, I shall be thankful. If you do, my boy, remember how your da/ddy loved you, and how your mother loves you, and forgive us if we have done wrong. Heaven preserve and protect you, Jack, my boy, my son, my darling. "MOTHER." "Forgive you?" said Hardy. "Forgive you?" Bless you, God bless you, you dear, honest, loving AT LAST. 283 mother;" and he kissed the picture again and again. 'But who, then, am I?" said he. "Let's look at the clothes." Nothing. There was a little jacket with buttons all over it, and a jolly little pair of trowsers with a pocket on one side, and a make-believe pocket on the other. But no mark of any kind. Hardy's face was red with excitement. Miller puffed quietly on. A rap at the door, followed by Hardy's " come in," disclosed Mr. Russell, who looked at the two men and the disordered apartment in undisguised astonish- ment. "Ah, come in, Mr. Russell, come in," said Hardy. "Excuse my lack of ceremony, and my excess of con" fusion. It doesn't look like me, I confess; but inas- much as I don't know who I am, it matters very little. Sit down, please." Mr. Russell was so taken aback by this unusual re- ception, that he hardly knew what to do. He had always found Hardy respectful and con- siderate ; now he found him brusque, and almost rude. He looked at him closely, and seeing tears in the young man'-s eyes, pushed away the chair Miller had offered him, and laying his hand on Hardy's shoulder, said, as a father might to a son whom he loved: "Tell page: 284-285[View Page 284-285] - 284 AT LAST. me, Hardy, what troubles you. Surely, I have the right to ask, and you know, my boy, that you have no right to conceal aught from me. Has Miller annoyed you? ' . Miller looked- up quickly, and said: "Mr. Russell, Mr. hlardy is your agent. We have buried the past between us. I have confessed my fault, and the truce is declared. I now ask your pardon, sir, and as I do so, let me couple my petition with a declaration of regard and esteem for this young man, for whom I would do anything in my power. No, sir, Miller has not annoyed him, but Miller will help him, and on that you may bet your bottom dollar." Miller spoke slowly as was his habit, but he also spoke earnestly, and there was something so tender in' his manner and expression, ,that Mr. Russell, whose heart was big and generous, extended his hand, and with a cordial grasp, said: "As you say, Mr. Miller; as you say. Bygones shall be bygones. Now ; tell me what under the sun is the matter with John Hardy-?" "Read this letter, isir," said Hardy; " that will tell you. I have lost my mother, sir; and my dear old father, too, who used to be so proud of his boy, is mine no longer. Oh, why did I open that infernal trunk?" Mr. Russell read the letter through before he spoke, Then wiping his eyes, he turned to Hardy and said: ' AT LAST. 285 "Well, Hardy, this is rather rough. I know what it is to lose father and mother, by death. But I confess this is a touch beyond that. But those clothes. Is there nothing on them to indicate a clue?" "Nothing, nothing at all," replied Hardy. "Nothing but this," cried Miller; who had'been turning the suit over and over; " nothing but this-." Mr. Russell -iterally snatched the little, jacket from the old man's hands. On- the loop,' placed there for convenience of hang- ing the garment on a hook or nail, was a small sales ticket, on which was printed , HALL, MLWAUKEE." He could scarce believe his eyes. "Hall, Milwaukee," cried he. "It cannot be. Oh, Hardy, speak, Miller, speak! Great heavens, can this be so! Hardy, Hardy, you are rny son! I bought this suit myself. You wore it to New York when you were lost. Hardy! Hardy! For God's sake, help me, Miller. His foot! His foot!" Quicker than a flash, old Miller pushed the half stupefied Ha rdy to a seat, drew off his gaiter, pulled off his sock-but no, they were all there! (' The other, man; the other. I told you the other," shouted Mr. Russell. And there, sure enough, was- the mutilated foot, page: 286-287[View Page 286-287] 286 eAT LAST. kissed by the father, shook by old Miller, and kissed and shook again, until in an ecstasy of joy, a perfect whirlwind of conflicting emotions, father and son held each other tight in a long and loving embrace. Miller scratched his head.- "And now for -home," said Mr. Russell; "how Maud's eyes will open, how-" Maud! Great heavens! Hardy had not thought of that, and burying his head in his pillow, he sobbed aloud. Miller beckoned Mr. Russell to the window. Placing his pipe on the sill, he took the astonished father by the hand.- "Mr. Russell, this is a matter of life or death, and you can alone decide it. Your son loves your daughter. He has found a father, but he loses a wife." "Nonsense. Not at all, sir; not.,at all. Hardy, old fellow. Harry, my darling, look up! Dress your- self, and come with me. Your mother will want to e see you. Aye, my boy, and your sweetheart will want to be the first to congratulate us both." "What do you mean, sir?" said Hardy. ' What do I mean? Great Heaven, what do I not t mean? Maud is not my child. Maud is not your sister. Her mother brought the dear girl with her when we were married. You shall wear her as you lhave won her, my sori. Now, will you come?" CHAPTER XXXIX. THE RE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME. TIggH REE weeks from that happy day a jolly S party stood upon the deck of an outward- bound steamer, and Horace Russell was crying like a child. Perhaps you think a strong man should not cry. Well, let us see. Just beyond him was a group, laughing, crying, shaking hands, and kissing: Old Miller and Mary, Robert, Delaney and Martha, John Hardy, or as he was then, Harry Russell, and Maud, his bride, with Mrs. Russell at their side. Mr. Delaney and Martha were part of the travelling company, and Miller, with Mary, had come to bid them good-by. Mr. Russell had arranged it all. 'ie had sent a check for $I,500 to the trustees of Mr. Delaney's church, with Fhich to supply the pul- pit for a year, and the young couple gladly availed themselves of the cordial invitation of their friend to pass that year abroad. page: 288-289[View Page 288-289] 288 NO PLACE LIKE HOME. Maud had told her, mother of Hardy's declaration, and they were discussing it, when Mr. Russell, and his new found Harry made their appearance -and dis- closure. Words cannot describe the scene that followed. Suffice it that the lovers were married by the Rev. Robert Delaney, and that at the wedding breakfast the entire Miller family were honored guests. "Home again," was now the cry of Horace Rus- sell. His affairs needed him? Yes, but it was not for that he hurried. He had found his- son. Twenty years' lost time must be made up. The sooner he began the better. With wife and son, and daughter, he craved his native air. He longed to present his boy, his son and heir to his workmen and his friends. The future beckoned him with wide ambitions, in all of which John Hardy-Harry Russell--was an element., How happy he was! How happy they all were! No wonder that-the strong man wept.. a THE END., *'*
