Dangerous Ground; Or, The Rival Detectives - free ebook by Lawrence L. Lynch

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Dangerous Ground; Or, The Rival Detectives

Lawrence L. Lynch

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THE RIVAL DETECTIVES.

THE RIVAL DETECTIVES.

BY (OF THE SECRET SERVICE.) Author of “Madeline Payne, the Detective’s Daughter;” “Out of a Labyrinth;” “Shadowed by Three;” “The Diamond Coterie,” etc., etc. Copyright, 1885, By Alex. T. Loyd &amp; Co., Chicago. All Rights Reserved. Dangerous Ground. “Mamma brings the candle very near to the closed eyes, waving it to and fro, rapidly.”— page 309 ....

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PROLOGUE.

PROLOGUE.

Time : The month of May. The year, 1859; when the West was new, and the life of the Pioneer difficult and dangerous. Scene : A tiny belt of timber, not far from the spot where not long before, the Marais des Cygnes massacre awoke the people of south-eastern Kansas, and kindled among them the flames of civil war. It is a night of storm and darkness. Huge trees are bending their might, and branches, strong or slender, are swaying and snapping under a fierce blast from the northward. Night has clos

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CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER I.

“Yes, sir,” said Policeman No. 46, with an air of condescending courtesy, “this is the office.” It is characteristic of the metropolitan policeman; he is not a man to occupy middle ground. If he is not gruffly discourteous, he is pretty certain to be found patronizingly polite. Number 46 had just breakfasted heartily, and had swallowed a large schooner of beer at the expense of the bar keeper, so he beamed benignly upon the tall, brown-faced, grey-bearded stranger who had just asked, “Is this th

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CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER II.

While the stranger was thus communing with himself, and while Van Vernet was striding toward that fashionable quarter of the city which contained the splendid Warburton mansion, Richard Stanhope, perched upon one corner of a baize covered table, his hands clasped about one knee, his hat pushed far back upon his head, his whole air that of a man in the presence of a familiar spirit, and perfectly at his ease, was saying to his Chief: “So you want me to put this business through alone? I don’t hal

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CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER III.

A rickety two-story frame building, in one of the worst quarters of the city. “He applies the match to the letter, and lets it fall from his fingers to the fire-place.”— page 38 . It is black with age, and guiltless of paint, but a careful observer would note that the door is newer than the dwelling, and that it is remarkably solid, considering the tumble-down aspect of the structure it guards. The windows of the lower story are also new and substantial, such of them as serve for windows; but on

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CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER IV.

It is early in the evening of the day that has witnessed the events recorded in the preceding chapters, and the Chief of the detectives is sitting in his easiest office chair, listening attentively to the words that fall from the lips of a tall, bronzed, gray-bearded man who sits opposite him, talking fast and earnestly. He has been thus talking, and the Chief thus listening, for more than an hour, and the story is just reaching its conclusion when the stranger says: “There, sir, you have the en

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CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER V.

Van Vernet and Richard Stanhope had been brother detectives during the entire term of their professional career. Entering the Agency when mere striplings, they had at once formed a friendship that had been strong and lasting. Their very differences of disposition and habits made them the better fellow-workmen, and the role most difficult for one was sure to be found the easier part for the other to play. They had been a strong combination, and the Chief of the detectives wasted some time in pond

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CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VI.

“Richard Stanhope is my name, and I’ve got a trump here for every trick you can show me. Step up, boys, don’t be bashful!” Momentous silence followed this announcement, while the habitues of the Thieves’ Tavern glanced into each others’ faces in consternation. An ordinary meddler, however much his courage and skill, would have met with summary chastisement; but Dick Stanhope! Not a man among them but knew the result of an attack upon him. Bullets swift and sure, in the brains or hearts of some;

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CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VII.

A crush of carriages about a stately doorway; a flitting of gorgeous, mysterious, grotesque and dainty figures through the broad, open portal; a glow of lights; a gleaming of vivid color; a glory of rich blossoms; a crash of music; a bubble of joyous voices; beauty, hilarity, luxury everywhere. It is the night of the great Warburton masquerade, the event of events in the social world. Archibald Warburton, the invalid millionaire, has opened his splendid doors, for the pleasure of his young and l

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CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER VIII.

Leslie Warburton had replaced her mask, but the face she concealed was engraven upon the memory of her vis-a-vis . A pure pale face, with a firm chin; a rare red mouth, proud yet sensitive; a pair of brown tender eyes, with a touch of sadness in their depths; and a broad low brow, over which clustered thick waves of sunny auburn. She is slender and graceful, carrying her head proudly, and with inherent self-poise in gait and manner. She glances about her once more, and then says, drawing still n

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CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER IX.

Pretty, piquant Winnifred French was the staunch friend of Leslie Warburton. When Winnie was the petted only daughter of “French, the rich merchant,” she and Leslie Uliman had been firm friends. When Leslie Uliman, the adopted daughter of the aristocratic Uliman’s, gave her hand in marriage to Archibald Warburton, a wealthy invalid and a widower with one child, Winnie was her first bridesmaid. Time had swept away the fortune of French, the merchant, and death had robbed Leslie of her adopted par

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CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER X.

It is not a pleasing task to Alan Warburton, but, spurred on by Vernet, and acting according to his suggestions, it is undertaken and accomplished. Within twenty minutes, two gay, fun-loving young fellows, one habited in the garb of a Celestial, the other dressed as a Troubador, are hastening from room to room in search of the mysterious Goddess of Liberty. “Who was the Mask that posted us about this mysterious lady?” queries the Celestial, as he lifts a portierie for his comrade to pass. “If I

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CHAPTER XI.

CHAPTER XI.

While the previously related scenes of this fateful night are transpiring Richard Stanhope finds his silken-trained disguise a snare in which his own feet become entangled, both literally and figuratively. “Silently, with the tread of an Indian, a man follows after; a man in the garments of a sailor.”— page 90 . Moving with slow and stately steps through the vista of splendid rooms, taking note of all that he sees from behind his white and blue mask, he suddenly becomes the object of too much at

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CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XII.

In such an emergency, when every moment has its value, to think is to act with Richard Stanhope. And time just now is very precious to him. This importunate fellow is determined to solve the mystery of his identity, to see him unmask. Ten minutes spent in an attempt to evade him will be moments of fate for the ambitious detective. And, for the sake of his patroness, he cannot leave the house at the risk of being followed. This difficulty must be overcome and at once. These thoughts flash through

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CHAPTER XIII.

CHAPTER XIII.

One more scene in this night’s fateful masquerade remains to be described, and then the seemingly separate threads of our plot unite, and twine about our central figures a chain of Fate. While Van Vernet is setting snares for the feet of his rival, and while that young man of many resources is actively engaged in disentangling himself therefrom,—while Leslie Warburton, tortured by a secret which she cannot reveal, and dominated by a power she dare not disobey, steals away from her stately home—a

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CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.

In order to comprehend the cause of the alarm which stimulated to sudden action both the wise man and the fool, Van Vernet and Silly Charlie, let us turn back a little and enter the dark house at the foot of the alley. It is an hour before midnight. The place is dark and silent; no light gleams through the tightly boarded windows, there is no sign of life about the dwelling. But within, as on a previous occasion, there is light, life, and a measure of activity. The light is furnished by a solita

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CHAPTER XV.

CHAPTER XV.

It is a half hour later. The light in the room is increased by a sputtering additional candle, and Papa Francoise, sitting by the deal table, is gazing toward the door, an eager expectant look upon his face. “If that old woman were here!” he mutters, and then starts forward at the sound of a low hesitating tap. Hurrying to the door he unbars it with eager haste, and a smile of blandest delight overspreads his yellow face as the new-comer enters. It is a woman, slender and graceful; a lady , who

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CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVI.

While the thieves are gazing upon her from above, Leslie Warburton, unconscious of this new danger that threatens her, replaces her veil and continues to address the old man. “Once more, and for the last time,” she pleads, “I ask you to tell me the truth. Give up this claim of kinship. If you were my father, something in my heart would tell me so; God has not created me lower than the brutes. What do you know of my parentage? You must possess some knowledge. Man, I would go upon my knees to you

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CHAPTER XVII.

CHAPTER XVII.

Guided by Silly Charlie, Alan Warburton finds himself hurrying through crooked streets and dismal alleys, for what seems to him an interminable distance. Now they run forward swiftly; now halt suddenly, while Charlie creeps ahead to reconnoiter the ground over which they must go. At last they have passed the Rubicon, and halting at the corner of a wider street than any they have as yet traversed, Alan’s strange guide says, “You are tolerably safe now, Mr. Warburton; at least you are not likely t

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CHAPTER XVIII.

CHAPTER XVIII.

While the discomfited Vernet kept watch alone with the dead, his men were running up and down the alleys, listening, peering, searching in by-places, in the hope of finding the hiding-place, or to overtake the flight, of the fugitive sailor and his idiot guide. More than an hour they consumed in this search, and then they returned to their superior officer to report their utter failure. “It is what I expected,” said Vernet, with severe philosophy. “Those fellows are no common rascals. They have

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CHAPTER XIX.

CHAPTER XIX.

It was a long road for a woman to travel at that unconventional hour, but Leslie Warburton was fleet-footed, and fear and excitement lent her strength. Necessity had taught her how to enter and escape from the dangerous maze where the people who claimed a right in her existence dwelt. And on being forced to flee by her haughty brother-in-law, she bowed her head and wrapping herself in her dark cloak sped away through the night. She had little fear of being missed by her guests,—a masquerade affo

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CHAPTER XX.

CHAPTER XX.

Little Daisy Warburton was missing. The blow that had prostrated Leslie at its first announcement, struck Archibald Warburton with still heavier force. It was impossible to keep the truth from him, and when it became known, his feeble frame would not support the shock. At day-dawn, he lay in a death-like lethargy. At night, he was raving with delirium. And on the second day, the physicians said: “There is no hope. His life is only a thing of days.” Leslie and Alan were faithful at his bedside,—s

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CHAPTER XXI.

CHAPTER XXI.

Paying no further heed to the servant, and much to the surprise of that functionary, Van Vernet turned his gaze back upon the picture, and looked long and intently, shifting his position once or twice to obtain a different view. Then taking up his hat, he silently left the house, a look of mingled elation and perplexity upon his face. “It’s the same!” he thought, as he hurried away; “it’s the same face, or a most wonderful resemblance. Allow for the difference made by the glazed cap, the tattoo

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CHAPTER XXII.

CHAPTER XXII.

It was grey dawn when Stanhope left the hospital and turned his face homeward, and then it was not to sleep, but to pass the two hours that preceded his breakfast-time in profound meditation. Seated in a lounging-chair, with a fragrant cigar between his lips, he looked the most care-free fellow in the world. But his active brain was absorbed in the study of a profound problem, and he was quite oblivious to all save that problem’s solution. Whatever the result of his meditation, he ate his breakf

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CHAPTER XXIII.

CHAPTER XXIII.

“I shall not weary you with a long story,” began Leslie Warburton; “this is not the time for it, and I am not in the mood. My husband lies above us, hopelessly ill. My little step-daughter is lost, and in Heaven only knows what danger. My brother-in-law is a hunted man, accused of the most atrocious of crimes. And I feel that I am the unhappy cause of all these calamities. If I have erred, I am doubly punished. Let me give you the bare facts, Mr. Stanhope; such details as you may wish can be sup

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CHAPTER XXIV.

CHAPTER XXIV.

The discovery made by Van Vernet, on the day of his visit to the Warburton mansion, aroused him to wonderful activity, and made him more than ever eager to ferret out the hiding-place of Papa Francoise, who, he felt assured, could throw much light upon the mystery surrounding the midnight murder. He set a constant watch upon the deserted Francoise house, and kept the dwelling of the Warburtons under surveillance, while he, in person, gravitated between these two points of interest, during the ti

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CHAPTER XXV.

CHAPTER XXV.

While Van Vernet was following after the two women, the carriage with the restless horses moved slowly past the Warburton dwelling. An observer might have noted that the face of the crape-draped occupant was pressed close against the oval window, in the rear of the vehicle, watching the direction taken by Van Vernet. Then, suddenly, this individual leaned forward and said to the driver: “Around the corner, Jim, and turn.” The order was promptly obeyed. “Now back, Jim,” said this fickle-minded pe

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CHAPTER XXVI.

CHAPTER XXVI.

In every city where splendor abounds and wealth rolls in carriages, can be found, also, squalor and wretchedness. If the rich have their avenues, and the good and virtuous their sanctuaries, so have the poor their by-ways and alleys, and the vicious their haunts. In a great city there is room for all, and a place for everything. Papa and Mamma Francoise had left their abiding-place in the slums for a refuge even more secure. Van Vernet had followed the two women to a narrow street, long since le

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CHAPTER XXVII.

CHAPTER XXVII.

While this reunited family, warmed to cordiality by the contents of the aforementioned bottle, exchanged confidences, the evening wore on. Franz had related the story of his escape and his subsequent adventures, and finished by telling them how, by the merest accident, he had espied Mamma and Nance upon their return from the Warburton mansion; and how, at the risk of being detained by a too-zealous “cop,” he had followed them, and so discovered their present abode. In exchange for this interesti

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CHAPTER XXVIII.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

After the departure of the Sister of Mercy, an unnatural silence brooded over the room; a silence, not a stillness, for Mamma Francoise, uttering no word, dragged the unfortunate Nance to one of the pallets, forced the remainder of the warm liquor down her throat, and then pushed her back upon the pallet, where she lay a dirty, moveless, stupid heap of wretched humanity. Then Mamma seated herself upon the one unoccupied stool, and glared alternately at the two men. Papa Francoise was evidently b

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CHAPTER XXIX.

CHAPTER XXIX.

This onslaught, so swift and unexpected, took Papa and Mamma completely by surprise, and, for the moment, threw even Vernet off his guard. “Scoundrel!” he exclaimed, while the menacing knife pressed against his throat; “what does this mean?” For answer, Franz shot a glance toward the two elder Francoises, and said in a hoarse, unnatural whisper: “Deek the cove; [1] he’s no dark lantern!” [1] Look at him. “Eh!” from Papa, in a frightened gasp. “Done!” from Mamma, in an angry hiss. And then, as th

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CHAPTER XXX.

CHAPTER XXX.

When the three had returned to the outer room, Papa turned anxiously toward his hopeful son. “Franz, my boy,” he began, in a quavering voice, “if there should be cops outside—” “Ye’re the same whinin’ old coward, ain’t ye?” commented Franz, as he favored his father with a contemptuous glance. “I’ve seen a good many bad eggs, but blow me if I ever seed one like ye! Why, in the name o’ blazes, air ye more afraid of a cop than you’d be o’ the hangman?” The mention of this last-named public benefact

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CHAPTER XXXI.

CHAPTER XXXI.

It was past midnight when the muffled figures of Papa and Mamma Francoise emerged stealthily from the tenement house, and took their way toward the river. Now and then they looked anxiously back, and constantly kept watch to the right and left. “Franz and Nance, poor Nance, going—whither?”— page 230 . A little way behind them, two other figures followed; the man half supporting, half dragging, a reeling, stupefied girl, and urging her along by alternate coaxing and threats. Franz and Nance, poor

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CHAPTER XXXII.

CHAPTER XXXII.

There is a cry of alarm in the street below. The fire has broken through the roof, and so revealed itself to some late passer-by. “Fire! fire! fire!” Soon the space before the doomed building is swarming with people running, vociferating, cursing, jesting. Drunken men are there, haggard women, dirty, ragged children, who clap their hands and shout excitedly at this splendid spectacle. “The flames rise and spread; the door of the closet has fallen in, and now he feels their hot breath.”— page 234

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CHAPTER XXXIII.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

Several days have passed since the visit of Mamma Francoise to the Warburton mansion, with all its attendant circumstances; since the flight from the Francoise tenement, and Van Vernet’s rescue from a fiery death. The Warburton Mansion is closed and gloomy. The splendid drawing-rooms are darkened and tenantless. The music-room is silent and shut from any ray of light. The library, where a dull fire glows in the grate, looks stately and somber. Only in the conservatory—where the flowers bloom and

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CHAPTER XXXIV.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Alan Warburton spoke. “Much as I desire to hear that sentence completed, Mrs. Warburton, I could do no less than interrupt.” Leslie dropped Winnie’s hand and rose slowly, moving with a stately grace toward the entrance before which Alan stood. And Winnie, with a wrathful glance at the intruder, flung aside a handful of loose leaves with an impatient motion, and followed her friend. But Alan, making no effort to conceal his hostile feelings, still stoo

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CHAPTER XXXV.

CHAPTER XXXV.

Kind hands brought Leslie back to life, and to a new sense of pain, for even the hands that love us must sometimes hurt, when they hope to heal. Every servant of the household loved its fair mistress. And while those who could, bustled to and fro, commanded by Winnie, each eager to minister to so kind a mistress, and those who were superfluous went about with anxious, sympathetic faces, Alan Warburton, the one unpitying soul in all that household, paced his room restlessly, troubled and anxious—

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CHAPTER XXXVI.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Baffled in this first attempt to obtain the desired information, Alan sets his lips firmly, and plans a new mode of attack. And in the morning he made a second effort. Going down to his lately-deserted study, shuddering with a little fastidious chill as he made his way across the darkened room and noted the stale atmosphere; frowning, too, when he drew back a heavy curtain and observed that there was dust upon his cabinets, and that motes were swimming in the streak of light that came through th

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CHAPTER XXXVII.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

In spite of the fact that the Warburton servants were a thoroughly disciplined corps, and that domestic affairs, above stairs and below, usually moved with mechanical regularity, it was nearly two o’clock before Millie, armed with dusters and brushes, entered Alan’s study to do battle with a small quantity of slowly-accumulated dust. “Ah!” she exclaimed as she flung open the windows, “how gloomy the house is! I s’pose Mr. Alan will set himself up as master now, and then, Millie, you’ll get your

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CHAPTER XXXVIII.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

This sudden appearance of Mr. Grip was not precisely to Alan Warburton’s taste, and he eyed his visitor with a somewhat haughty air, while he said: “Mr. Grip is prompt, to say the least. I believe that the hour—” “Hour appointed, between three and four—precisely, sir; pre cisely. But my time’s valuable, Mr. Warburton; valuable , sir! And it’s better too early than too late. Everything’s cut and dried, and nothing else on hand for this hour; couldn’t afford to waste it.” Mr. Grip’s words fell fro

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CHAPTER XXXIX.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

““That’s a pretty thing to keep hid away!” snarls the now thoroughly angry detective.”— page 278 . There may have been times in Alan Warburton’s life—such times come to most fastidious city-bred people—when he doubted the wisdom of Providence in permitting the “street musician” to inherit the earth, and, especially to transport so much of his “heritage,” wheresoever he might go, upon his person. But to-day, for the first time, he fancies that he sees some reason for the existence of the species,

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CHAPTER XL.

CHAPTER XL.

If Van Vernet had been thwarted, in a measure, Richard Stanhope had been no less baffled. Each had succeeded partially, and each had beaten a too hasty and altogether unsatisfactory retreat. Van Vernet had planned well. By keeping himself informed as to the doings at police headquarters, he had been aware of all the efforts there being made in the search for the missing child. He found it quite easy to possess himself of a sheet and envelope bearing the official stamp; and by writing his spuriou

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CHAPTER XLI.

CHAPTER XLI.

While Alan and Winnie, protected by their temporary armistice, were hurrying toward the modest abode of Mrs. French, each intent upon solving as soon as possible the riddle of Leslie’s flight, the Francoises were holding high council in the kitchen of their most recent habitation. In all the lists of professional criminals, there were not two who had been, from their very earliest adventure, more successful in evading the police than Papa and Mamma Francoise. Papa, although in the face of actual

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CHAPTER XLII.

CHAPTER XLII.

A sudden silence has fallen upon the group, and as Leslie’s clear, sad eyes rest upon first one face and then the other, Papa begins to fidget nervously. “Oh, yes,” he sighs, “we heard about that.” And then Mamma comes nearer, saying in a cat-like, purring tone: “The poor little dear! And you can’t find her?” As she speaks, Franz Francoise shifts his position carelessly, placing himself where he can note the expressions of the two old faces. But Leslie’s enforced calmness is fast deserting her.

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CHAPTER XLIII.

CHAPTER XLIII.

When the door had closed behind Leslie and the old woman, Franz Francoise dropped his chin upon his breast, and leaning his broad shoulders against the door-frame, stood thinking, or half asleep, it would have been difficult to guess which; while Papa began a slow, cat-like promenade up and down the room, paying no heed to Franz or his occupation, and thinking, beyond a doubt. After a little, Franz, arousing himself with a yawn, staggered to the nearest chair, and dropped once more into a listle

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CHAPTER XLIV.

CHAPTER XLIV.

When Alan Warburton reached the residence of Mr. Follingsbee, he found that legal gentleman sitting alone in his cosy library, very much, so Alan thought, as if expecting him. And the first words that the lawyer uttered confirmed this opinion. Rising quickly, Mr. Follingsbee came forward to meet his guest, saying briskly: “Ah, Warburton, good evening. I’ve been expecting you; sit down, sit down.” As Alan placed his hat upon the table beside him, and took the seat indicated, he said, with a well-

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CHAPTER XLV.

CHAPTER XLV.

While Alan Warburton, closeted with Mr. Follingsbee, was slowly lowering the crest of the Warburton pride, and reluctantly submitting himself to the mysterious guidance of an unseen hand,—Winnie French, sitting beside her mother, was perusing Leslie’s note. It was brief and pathetic, beseeching Mrs. French to go at once to Warburton Place; to dwell there as its mistress; to look upon it as her home, and Winnie’s, until such time as Leslie should return, or Mr. Follingsbee should indicate to her

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CHAPTER XLVI.

CHAPTER XLVI.

All the long night that followed Leslie’s appearance among the Francoises, Mamma was alert and watchful. Often she crept to the door of the inner room, where Leslie slumbered heavily. Often she glanced, with a grin of satisfaction, toward the couch where Franz lay breathing regularly, and scarcely stirring the whole night through. Often she turned her face, with varying expressions, toward the corner where Papa slumbered uneasily, muttering vaguely from time to time. But never once did her eyes

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CHAPTER XLVII.

CHAPTER XLVII.

Doctor Bayless had predicted aright. Leslie continued to gain slowly, and in the third week of her illness, she could sit erect in her bed for an hour or two each day, listening to Mamma’s congratulations, and recalling, one by one, her woes of the past. Not recalling them poignantly, with the sharp pain that would torture her when she should have gained fuller strength, but vaguely, with a haunting pang, as one remembers an unhappy dream. Day by day, as strength came back, her listlessness gave

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CHAPTER XLVIII.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Left alone, Leslie Warburton faced her problem, and found herself mastered by it. She had believed herself already overwhelmed with misery—had fancied that in coming among these people who claimed her, she had taken the last step down into the valley of humiliation, of shame, of utter wretchedness. But they had shown her a lower depth still, and bidden her descend into it. Should she obey them? Her pulses were throbbing violently, a fierce flame burned in either cheek, a shade of the old deliriu

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CHAPTER XLIX.

CHAPTER XLIX.

Savage Mamma Francoise was not an unskillful nurse, and Leslie was soon restored to consciousness. But not to strength; the little that she had gained was spent by that long interview, with all its attendant conflicting emotions, and Leslie lay, strengthless once more, at the mercy of her enemies. After much thinking, Mamma had decided that Franz had offered sound advice, and having exhausted her own resources, she set out to consult Doctor Bayless. Her visit was in every way satisfactory. Docto

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CHAPTER L.

CHAPTER L.

“Holding this card so Leslie could easily scan its contents, he sat mutely watching her face.”— page 359 . Five weeks have passed since the fateful masquerade. Five weeks since Vernet and Stanhope entered, in rivalry, the service of Walter Parks, the bearded Englishman. Five weeks since that last named and eccentric individual set sail for far-off Australia. Matters are moving slowly at the Agency. Van Vernet is seldom seen there now, and Stanhope is not seen at all. In his private office the Ch

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CHAPTER LI.

CHAPTER LI.

After Mr. Follingsbee’s departure, the Chief of the detectives took up his work just where he had laid it down to receive his visitor. Ringing the bell he summoned the bright-eyed boy who waited without, and said, as soon as the lad appeared in the doorway: “You know where to look for Vernet, George?” “Yes, sir.” “Go to him as soon as possible; tell him I wish to see him at his earliest leisure; and you may wait a reasonable time, if he is out.” When George had bowed and departed on his mission,

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CHAPTER LII.

CHAPTER LII.

Late in the afternoon of the day following that on which Carnegie the Expert had received his commission from the Chief of the detectives, he appeared again in the presence of that personage. He carried his “documents” in a small packet, which he laid upon the desk, and he turned upon the Chief a face as cheerful and as full of suppressed activity as usual. “Well?” queried the Chief, glancing down at the packet, “have you done?” “Yes;” beginning to open the packet with quick, nervous fingers. “A

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CHAPTER LIII.

CHAPTER LIII.

The Chief of the detectives was now furnished with ample food for thought, but the opportunity for meditation seemed remote. While he sat pondering over the discovery of Carnegie and Sanford, two visitors were announced: Walter Parks, the English patron of Stanhope and Vernet, and John Ainsworth, the returned Australian. An accident of travel had thrown these two together, almost at the moment when one was landing from, and the other about to embark for, Australia. And the name of John Ainsworth

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CHAPTER LIV.

CHAPTER LIV.

On Wednesday, the day following that which witnessed the arrival of Walter Parks and John Ainsworth, Mr. Follingsbee, seated at a late breakfast, perused a letter, which, judging from the manner of its reception, must have contained something unusual and interesting. He read it, re-read it, and read it again. Then pushing back his chair, and leaving his repast half finished, he hurried from the breakfast-room, and up stairs, straight to that cosey room which, for many days, had been occupied by

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CHAPTER LV.

CHAPTER LV.

At two P. M. of the same day, the day that witnessed Alan Warburton’s return to his own, and the Chief’s perplexity, there is an ominous stillness brooding about the Francoise dwelling. In the outer room, Papa Francoise is alone, and, if one may judge from his restlessness, not much relishing his solitude. The room is cleaner than usual. All about it an awkward attempt at tidiness is visible. Papa, too, is less unkempt than common, seeming to have made a stout effort at old-time respectability.

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CHAPTER LVI.

CHAPTER LVI.

“Ye see,” explains Franz, glancing toward Leslie, “the lady’s kind o’ hesitatin’. We’ll give her a minute or two ter make up her mind.” And he goes over and takes his stand beside her. In the moment of silence that follows, Leslie can hear her heart beat, then— What is it that breaks that strange stillness, that startles so differently every occupant of that dingy room? Only a voice, sweet, clear, pitiful; a child’s voice, uplifted in prayer: “ Dear God, please take care of a little girl whose M

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CHAPTER LVII.

CHAPTER LVII.

There is unusual stir and life in the Warburton Mansion, for Alan Warburton has returned, as suddenly and strangely as he went away. He has made Mrs. French and Winnie such explanations as he could, and has promised them one more full and complete when he shall be able, himself, to understand, in all its details, the mystery which surrounds him. After listening to the little that Alan has to tell—of course that part of his story which concerns Leslie is entirely ignored, as being another’s secre

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CHAPTER LVIII.

CHAPTER LVIII.

Again we are in the office of the Chief of the detectives; in his private office, where he sits alone, looking bored and uncomfortable. “Everybody late,” he mutters, “and I hoped Follingsbee would come first.” He consults his watch, and finds that it is four o’clock. Four o’clock, and his interviews with the lawyer, the Australian, and the Englishman, yet to come. Ten minutes more of waiting. Then the boy enters to announce Messrs. Parks and Ainsworth. The Chief rises to receive them, and accept

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CHAPTER LIX.

CHAPTER LIX.

“But,” queried Walter Parks, when question and comment had been exhausted, “are you sure that we have, even now, evidence enough to convict Krutzer, or Francoise, as you call him?” “He has called himself Francoise from the day he and his worthy wife left the wagon-train,” rejoined Stanhope. “He has never been Krutzer since. As for proof, we shall not lack that; but I think the old villain, if he lives to come to trial, will plead guilty. His wife possesses all the courage; he is cunning enough,

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POPULAR BOOKS.

POPULAR BOOKS.

Madeline Payne, the Detective’s Daughter. By Lawrence L. Lynch , author of “Shadowed by Three,” “Out of a Labyrinth,” etc. Illustrated with 44 original engravings. Price, $1.50. “One of the most fascinating of modern novels. It combines the excitement that ever attends the intricate and hazardous schemes of a detective, together with the development of as carefully constructed and cunningly elaborated a plot as the best of Wilkie Collins’ or Charles Reade’s.” The Gold Hunters’ Adventures in Aust

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Madeline Payne

Madeline Payne

Author of “Shadowed by Three,” “Out of a Labyrinth,” etc., etc. Illustrated with 45 Original Engravings. CONTENTS. —The Lovers’ Meeting. The Serpent In Eden. A Sudden Departure. What the Old Tree Revealed. Two Heartless Plotters. The Story of a Mother’s Wrongs and a Husband’s Crimes. Turns her Back on the Old Home, and Trusts the Future and Lucian Davlin. Nurse Hagar is “Out of Sorts.” Madeline Defies her Enemies. “ You are her Murderer! ” The Railway Station at Night. A Disappointed Schemer Rej

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A SLAVER’S ADVENTURES

A SLAVER’S ADVENTURES

“We saw many species of wild animals.” Page 89. Author of “ The Gold Hunters’ Adventures in Australia ,” “ The Bushrangers ,” “ Running the Blockade ,” etc., etc. ILLUSTRATED WITH FORTY ELEGANT ENGRAVINGS. SOLD ON ALL RAILWAY TRAINS AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. the bushrangers as I turned, I managed to keep my eyes on the shelf overhead, so that I could note all the movements that took place. I was repaid for my trouble, for as I fell back and pressed my hand on my side, as though fatally wounded, I

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THE BUSHRANGERS.

THE BUSHRANGERS.

Author of “ The Gold Hunters in Australia ,” “ The Bushrangers ,” “ Running the Blockade ,” etc., etc. Moloch appeared, bearing the almost lifeless form. “Look,” yelled the fiend, in a triumphant tone. life in australia, or sides would be equally well guarded, then glanced over the excited crowd, in hopes that Dan would array himself on our side—but that enterprising gentleman had suddenly disappeared, and left us to our fate. “Stand back,” shouted the inspector; “it will be the worse for you. T

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THE GOLD HUNTERS’ ADVENTURES;

THE GOLD HUNTERS’ ADVENTURES;

By WM. H. THOMES , author of “The Bushrangers,” “The Gold Hunters in Europe,” “A Whaleman’s Adventures,” “Life in the East Indies,” “Adventures on a Slaver,” “Running the Blockade,” etc., etc. “Now for a rush.—Cut them to pieces!”...

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A Whaleman’s Adventures

A Whaleman’s Adventures

Author of “ The Gold Hunters’ Adventures in Australia ,” “ The Bushrangers ,” “ Running the Blockade ,” etc., etc. SOLD ON ALL RAILWAY TRAINS AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS....

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RUNNING THE BLOCKADE;

RUNNING THE BLOCKADE;

By WM. H. THOMES, Author of “ The Gold Hunters’ Adventures in Australia ,” “ The Bushrangers ,” “ Running the Blockade ,” etc., etc. “For de Lord’s sake, don’t do dat. Dis nig is almost cut to pieces now. Him legs is one mass of rings.”...

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The Gold Hunters in Europe

The Gold Hunters in Europe

—OR— “Do you give yourselves in custody?” Author of “ The Gold Hunters’ Adventures in Australia ,” “ The Bushrangers ,” “ Running the Blockade ,” etc., etc. Illustrated with FORTY Fine Engravings SOLD ON ALL RAILWAY TRAINS AND BY ALL BOOKSELLERS....

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