AT LEAST SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS STOLEN,' HE MUTTERED."
Nelson the Newsboy. —Page 81.
"Uncle, I have not touched it," sobbed Gertrude.
"This is all I have, and I just picked that up," added our hero and flung the piece on the table, beside that which the girl had picked up.
"I will not believe it!" stormed Mark Horton, more in a rage than ever. He turned to Nelson. "You took that money away and then thought to come back for more. Or perhaps you came back to see Gertrude."
"I am no thief!" cried Nelson. "I never stole in my life."
"You are a thief, and this girl is your accomplice. Stop, did you not go past the house this afternoon?"
"I did, but——"
"And you saw Gertrude?"
"I saw this young lady, but——"
"As I suspected. You planned this thing."
"Oh, Uncle Mark! what are you saying?" sobbed Gertrude. Her heart was so full she could scarcely speak. She had always treated her uncle with every consideration, and to have him turn against her in this fashion cut her to the quick.
"Gertrude, my eyes are open at last. From to-night you leave me!"
"What, going to throw her out of this house—out of her home!" ejaculated Nelson. "Sir, I don't know you, but I think you must be off in your mind."
"I am not so crazy as you imagine. I am sick—nay, I have one foot in the grave. But this shameless girl shall no longer hoodwink me. As soon as daylight comes she shall leave this house, and she shall never set foot in it again."
"But, sir——"
"I will waste no further words on you, young man. Out you go, or I will call a policeman at once."
"Oh, uncle, don't do that!" burst out Gertrude. "I will go away, if you insist upon it."
"I do insist upon it. Pack your things at once. If it were not night I would insist upon your leaving now."
Gertrude looked at him, and then drew herself up with an effort.
"I will go now, I will not wait," she said. "But if ever you need me——"
"I'll not send for you," finished Mark Horton quickly. "I never want to see you again." He turned to our hero. "Are you going, or must I call an officer?" he added harshly.
"I will go," said Nelson. He paused as if wishing to say more, then leaped through the window and disappeared into the darkness of the alleyway.
As our hero left the library by the window, Gertrude left by the hall door. Slowly she mounted the steps to her own room. Once inside, she threw herself on the bed in a passionate fit of weeping. But this did not last long. Inside of half an hour she was packing a traveling case with such things as she absolutely needed.
"I will take nothing else," she told herself. "His money bought them and they shall remain here."
At last her preparations were complete, and she stole downstairs with her traveling case in her hand. She looked into the library, to see her uncle sitting in a heap in the armchair.
"Good-by, Uncle Mark," she said sadly.
"Go away!" he returned bitterly. "Go away!"
He would say no more, and she turned, opened the door to the street, and passed outside. He listened as she hurried down the steps and along the silent street. When he could no longer hear her footsteps he sank back again into the armchair.
"Gone!" he muttered. "Gone, and I drove her away! What a miserable man I am! What a miserable man!" And then he threw himself down again. He remained in the armchair for the rest of the night, weaker than ever, and tortured by an anguish he could not put into words.
Once out on the street again, Nelson did not know which way to turn or what to do. He was bewildered, for the scene between Gertrude and her uncle had been more than half a mystery to him.
"He suspects her of stealing, but I don't," he told himself bluntly. "Such a girl, with such eyes, would never steal. He wouldn't think so if he was in his right mind. I guess his sickness has turned his brain." And in the latter surmise our hero was partly correct.
Slowly he walked to the end of the block, then, struck by a sudden thought, came back. If the young lady did really come out, he meant to see her and have another talk with her.
The newsboy was still some distance from the mansion when, on looking across the way, he saw the door of the house in which Homer Bulson lived open, and a second later beheld Sam Pepper come out.
"Gracious—Sam!" he cried to himself, and lost no time in hiding behind a convenient stoop. Soon Pepper passed by, and our hero saw him continue on his way along Fifth Avenue until Fifty-ninth Street was reached.
"He's going home," thought Nelson. "I ought to get down there before him. What will he say if he finds me missing?"
He was now more perplexed than ever. What had Sam Pepper been doing in the house in which Homer Bulson lived? Had the man robbed that place, and had he himself made a mistake in regard to the Horton mansion?
"It's too deep for me," he mused. "I'll never get to the bottom of it. But that young lady—hullo, here she comes, sure enough!"
He stepped behind the stoop again and waited. In a moment Gertrude passed him. Evidently the darkness and the strange silence frightened her. When Nelson came out of his hiding place she started back.
"Oh!" she gasped. "Is it you?"
"Yes, miss. I—I was wondering if you would really leave," he answered.
"There was nothing else for me to do."
"He is your uncle?"
"Yes. He is Mark Horton and I am Gertrude Horton, his dead brother's only child."
"He treated you mighty bad for a brother's child."
"My father was poor and Uncle Mark has taken care of me for years. He wanted me to marry my cousin, Homer Bulson, and it made him angry when I refused."
"Homer Bulson!" cried Nelson. "I don't wonder you didn't want to marry him."
"Do you know my cousin?"
"I've met him. He tried to cheat a friend of mine out of a sale of some books. He acted the sneak."
"It seems my uncle's heart has been set on this marriage," went on Gertrude.
"But that didn't give him the right to call you a thief," put in our hero warmly.
"To be sure it did not. But—but—who are you?"
"I'm Nelson."
"You said that before. What is your real name?"
At this Nelson hung his head.
"I don't know what my real name is, Miss Gertrude. They all call me Nelson the Newsboy. I live with a man named Pepper. He keeps a lunch-room on the East Side, and I sell papers for a living. I don't know where I came from."
"It is too bad. But you are better off than I am—you have a home," she added, her eyes filling again with tears.
"Don't you worry. I'll help you all I can," said Nelson sympathetically. "But about this affair of the safe—I can't make head or tail of that."
"Nor can I, Nelson. I came downstairs, having heard some strange noises. But everything seemed to be all right. Then I looked out of the window and saw you."
"I saw a man go into the alleyway, back of the house," answered our hero lamely. "I'll be real truthful with you and tell you that I know the man, and that he has done lots of good things for me. Well, I thought the man got into that library window, although it was pretty dark and I might have been mistaken."
"The window was locked when I went to open it."
"You are certain of that?"
"I am."
"Then I must have made a mistake." And our hero drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps, after all, Sam Pepper was innocent.
"One thing is sure, some money was gone, and we found those gold pieces on the floor," went on Gertrude. "Who could have opened the safe?"
"Who knew the combination beside your uncle?"
"Myself—he told me last month—when he had his last bad spell."
"Nobody else—that cousin, for instance?"
"I don't believe Mr. Bulson knew it."
"Then that's what made it look black for you. The safe wasn't forced open, that's sure. Somebody opened it who knew the combination."
"The money might have been taken some time ago," said Gertrude. "Anyway, it is gone, and you and I are supposed to be the thieves." She smiled bitterly. "How strange! and we hardly know each other!"
"And I don't see any way of clearing ourselves," said the newsboy, with equal bitterness. "But let that drop. What are you going to do? Going to some friend's house?"
"I have no friends here. You see, we came from Philadelphia, and I am not much acquainted as yet."
"Then you'll go to Philadelphia? If you wish, I'll carry that bag and see you to the train."
"No, I'm not going to Philadelphia. I would rather remain in New York, near my uncle. He may need me some day."
"He's a hard-hearted man!" burst out the newsboy. "I don't see how he could treat you so mean!"
"It is his sickness makes him so, Nelson; he was never so before." Gertrude heaved a long sigh. "I must say I really do not know what to do."
"I know a hotel on Third Avenue, but it's not a very nice place."
"No, I don't wish to go there. If I could think of some friend——"
"Did your uncle send you away without any money?"
"I took only the clothing I needed, nothing more."
"Then I'll give you what I've got," answered Nelson promptly, and drew out what little money he possessed.
"No; I won't rob you, Nelson. But you are very, very kind."
"It aint any robbery," he answered. "Come, you must take it." And he forced it into her hand. "I know an old lady who'll take you in," he continued suddenly. "Her name is Mrs. Kennedy. She's only a fruit and candy woman, but she's got a heart as big as a balloon. She's a nice, neat woman, too."
The matter was talked over for a few minutes, and Gertrude consented to go to the two rooms which Mrs. Kennedy called her home.
These were close to Third Avenue, and late as it was, they boarded a train and rode down. The building was dark, and Nelson had some trouble in rousing the old woman.
"To be sure I'll take the lady in, Nelson," said Mrs. Kennedy, when the situation was partly explained. "Come in, miss, and welcome."
Gertrude was glad enough to enter and drop into a chair, and here our hero left her, and at once hurried down to the lunch-room with all speed.
Not wishing to arouse Sam Pepper if he was asleep, he went around to the rear window, opened that, and crawled through.
To his surprise Pepper was not there.
"I'm lucky, after all," he thought, and undressed with all speed. Hardly had he crawled into bed when Pepper came in. He lit the gas and looked at our hero, but Nelson snored and pretended to be fast asleep. Sam appeared relieved at this, and soon retired. His bag, which he had brought with him, he placed under his bed, in a corner next to the wall.
The newsboy could not sleep, and from the time he lay down until daylight appeared he turned and tossed on his cot, reviewing in a hundred ways all that had occurred. But he could reach no satisfactory conclusion. The one thing, however, which remained fixed in his mind was that Gertrude Horton was now homeless, and he felt that he must, in some measure at least, look out for her.
"I don't suppose I can do much," he thought dismally. "But what I can do I will, that's certain."
Long before Sam Pepper was stirring Nelson was up and dressed. As he was going out Pepper roused up.
"Where are you bound?" he asked.
"Going to sell papers."
"You're starting early to-day."
"I've got to hustle, if I want to make any money." And so speaking, Nelson left the place.
He was soon down at "Newspaper Row," as it is commonly called, that part of Park Row and Nassau Street where are congregated the offices of nearly all of the metropolitan dailies. He had not a cent in his pocket, but this did not bother him. He soon found Paul Randall, who was being shoved right and left in the big crowd of boys who all wanted to get papers at once.
"What papers do you want, Paul?" he asked.
The little newsboy told him, and Nelson said he would get them for him.
"And I'd like to borrow a dollar, Paul," he went on. "I had to give up every cent I had."
"That's too bad, Nelson," replied Paul. "I can't loan you a dollar. All I've got extra is sixty-five cents. You can have that."
"Then I'll make that do," said our hero.
He took all of Paul's money and started into the crowd, to get papers for his friend and himself.
He was struggling to get to the front when, on chancing to look to one side, he caught sight of Billy Darnley, the newsboy bully who had robbed him of the five dollars.
"Billy Darnley!" gasped our hero, in astonishment.
The bully saw Nelson and instantly ducked his head. He, too, was after newspapers, but now thought it best to quit the scene.
"I didn't t'ink he'd be here so early," he muttered, and pushed to the rear of the crowd. Once in the open, he took to his heels and dashed down Frankfort Street in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge arches.
But Nelson was not to be "lost" so readily, and he was out of the crowd almost as soon as the bully.
"I'm after Billy Darnley!" he shouted to Paul. "Come on!"
There now ensued a race which was highly exciting, even if not of long duration. Darnley was swift of foot, and the fear of what might follow lent speed to his flying feet. But Nelson was also a good runner.
At the corner of Rose Street were a number of heavy trucks. Darnley managed to pass these, but it took time. When our hero came up, the trucks blocked the street completely.
In and out Nelson dodged among the trucks, between the wheels and under the very hoofs of the heavy horses. In a twinkle he was clear of the mass and again making after Darnley, who was now flying toward Vandewater Street.
At this point there is a large archway under the approach to the Brooklyn Bridge, and toward this archway the bully directed his footsteps. But Nelson was now close at hand, and underneath the archway he succeeded in reaching the big newsboy, catching him firmly by the arm.
"Lemme go!" growled Billy Darnley. "Lemme go, Nelse, or I'll hammer yer good."
"Maybe I'll do the hammering," retorted Nelson. "Where's my five dollars?"
"I aint got no money of yours."
"You have, and I want you to hand it over."
"Aint got it, I say. Lemme go!"
Instead of complying our hero grasped the bully by the throat and ran him up against the stonework of the arch.
"I want my money," he said sternly. "If you don't give it to me——"
"Let up—yer—yer chokin' me!" gasped Billy Darnley.
"Will you give me the money?"
"No."
The bully struggled fiercely, and so did Nelson. Down went both on the pavement and rolled over and over. But our hero's blood was up, and he put forth every ounce of strength he possessed. At last he had Darnley flat on his back, and then he sat astride of the bully.
"Now will you give up?" he panted. "Or must I hammer you some more?"
"Oh, Nelson! have you got him?" asked Paul, running up.
"Yes, and he's got to give me my money."
"A fight! a fight!" cried some of the boys who began to collect.
"This aint a fight," said Nelson loudly. "He's a thief, and stole five dollars from me. He's got to give it up."
He caught Darnley by the throat again, and now the bully was only too glad to give in.
"Let—let up!" he gasped. "Let up!"
"Will you give me my money?"
"I've only got two dollars and ten cents."
"Hand it over."
"Let me up first."
"Not much!"
With something like a groan Darnley brought out the money and passed it over.
"Now I'm going to search you," went on Nelson, in as determined a voice as ever.
"No, no!" pleaded Darnley in alarm. He did not like the crowd that was gathering.
"Yes, search him, Nelse," said a boy named Marks.
"That's right, search him," put in another newsboy, named Wilson. "I think he stole something from me last week."
In spite of his protestations Billy Darnley's pockets were turned inside out.
There were brought to light another dollar, which our hero also pocketed, a pearl-handled pocket-knife, a silver badge, and half a dozen other articles.
"My knife!" shouted Nat Marks. "Boys, you all know it."
"So it is, Nat," said Frank Wilson. "And this is my badge—the one I won in the newsboys' competition last month."
The boys took the things, and then gathered around Billy Darnley with clenched fists. Nelson slipped outside of the crowd, and Paul went with him.
In vain Billy Darnley tried to clear himself of the other lads. He struck one boy down, but the others pounced upon him front and rear, and soon had him again on his back. It looked like a football scrimmage, but the ball in this case seemed to be the bully's head. For ten minutes the tussle went on, and when at last the cry of "Cop! cop! run for it!" arose, Darnley found himself with his nose bleeding, two teeth loose, and his left eye all but closed. Moreover, his coat was torn to shreds.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the policeman.
"They all piled on top of me!" whined Darnley, looking the picture of misery.
"He's a thief!" exclaimed one of the other boys, but from a safe distance. "He stole something from three of the boys, he did. He didn't git nuthin' but what was comin' to him, officer."
"That's right; he ought to be locked up," put in another boy, also from a safe distance.
"Begone with you!" said the policeman sternly, and gave Darnley a shove. "If I see any more fighting I'll run you all in," and he walked away, twirling his club as he did so.
"Oh, me eye!" groaned Darnley, and limped away, a sadder if not a wiser youth. It was many a day before he dared to show himself in Newspaper Row again.
"Well, I got back three dollars and ten cents," remarked Nelson, as he and Paul walked up Frankfort Street, "so I won't need your loan. But, just the same, I am much obliged." And he passed over the money.
"I wish you had gotten it all, Nelson," said Paul earnestly. "Oh, but didn't they just pitch into Billy! And it served him right, too."
"Yes, I showed him up in his true colors," returned our hero.
He soon had the papers he and Paul wanted, and then the pair separated, and our hero hurried over to his old stand on Broadway.
His clothing had suffered considerably from the encounter with the bully and, though he brushed himself off as best he could, he felt that he made far from a handsome appearance.
"I must look better than this before I call on Miss Horton," he mused. "If I don't, she'll take me for a regular tramp."
He wondered if there would be anything in the newspapers about the robbery in Fifth Avenue, and snatched a few moments to scan several sheets. But not a word appeared.
"I guess they are too high-toned to let it get into print," he reasoned. "Well, it's a good thing. I guess it would almost kill Miss Gertrude to see it in the papers."
When Nelson got back to the lunch-room he found business was poor, and he expected to see Sam Pepper ill-humored in consequence. On the contrary, however, Pepper was all smiles, and even hummed a tune to himself as he waited on his customers.
"Something has happened to tickle him," thought the boy. "Or else he's got a new plan on hand."
"How is the sick friend—any better?" he asked Pepper.
"Much better, Nelson. And what do you think? He's loaned me money to turn this place into a first-class café. Don't you think that will pay better than a common lunch-room?"
"I don't know. I'd rather be in the lunch business than running a saloon."
"I wouldn't. I want to make money," responded Pepper.
"What are you going to do?"
"Rip out that old show window and put in a new and elegant glass front, and put in a new bar and buffet. It will be as fine as anything around here when it's finished."
"I wish I had a friend to loan me money."
"What would you do with it?"
"I'd buy out a good news stand. There's money in that."
"So there is." Sam Pepper mused for a moment. "Maybe my friend will advance enough for that, too."
"Thank you, but you needn't bother him," said Nelson coldly.
"And why not, if I can get the rocks?"
"I'd rather get the money myself."
"Won't the money be good enough?" demanded Pepper, his face darkening.
"I'd rather know where it came from," returned the boy.
The two were in the kitchen at the time, and Sam Pepper had a frying pan in his hand.
"See here, Nelson, I'll whack you over the head with this, if you talk like that!" exclaimed the man, flying into a rage.
"You won't whack me more than once, Sam Pepper."
"Won't I?"
"No, you won't."
"Who is master around here, I'd like to know?"
"You are, but I'm not your slave."
"You talk as if you knew something," went on Pepper, growing suddenly suspicious.
"Perhaps I do know something," replied the newsboy, and then hurried into the dining room to wait on a customer who had just entered.
"I'll have it out with you later," muttered Pepper savagely. "If you know too much, I'll find a way to keep your mouth closed."
Sam Pepper got no chance to talk to Nelson further that day. As soon as the noon trade was over, our hero hurried off to sell afternoon papers. This time he went up the Bowery, to where Mrs. Kennedy kept her fruit-and-candy stand. It was a small stand, and the entire stock was not worth over ten dollars, but the old woman made enough to keep the wolf from the door, and she was content.
"I was after thinking you'd come," she said, smiling broadly. "I knew you'd want to know about the young lady."
"How is she?"
"I left her this morning, sorrowful enough, I can tell ye that, Nelson. She don't know how to turn. She thinks she might take in sewing, or something like that, but, bless ye! how much would she make at that? Why, thim Jews that work night and day hardly make enough to keep 'em from starving!"
"Yes, I know it, and it's a shame," said the boy. "They get about five cents for a pair of pants and ten cents for a coat, and some of 'em make shirts for three and four cents apiece. I don't see how they stand it. No, she wouldn't earn anything at that."
"I was a-telling her of Gladys Summers, who sells flowers up on Fourteenth Street and at the theater doors, but she said she didn't want to go out on the street. She's afraid some of her friends would see her, I suppose."
"She hasn't any friends—'cepting you and me, Mrs. Kennedy. We've got to do for her."
"It's little I can offer, Nelson; ye know that well enough. She can stay under my roof, but to board her——"
"I'll pay her board, until she finds something to do. I'll give you three dollars a week for keeping her."
"Will ye now? Nelson, you're more than kind-hearted. But where will ye be after getting the money?"
"I'll earn it," he answered resolutely. "I earn a dollar and over a day now, and I know I can make it more, if I try real hard."
He soon left the fruit-and-candy stand and started in to sell papers. He felt that he had a new responsibility on his shoulders, and he determined to do his best. Soon his efforts began to tell, and by five o'clock he was sold out, and the day's earnings amounted to a dollar and thirty-two cents.
"Half for Miss Horton and half for myself," he murmured. "That's the way it's got to be, after this."
He was soon on his way to the tenement house in which Mrs. Kennedy's rooms were located. Ascending two flights of stairs, he knocked on one of the doors.
"Who is it?" came from Gertrude Horton.
"It's Nelson."
"Oh!" And instantly the door was unlocked.
A glance at the girl's face told the boy that she had been crying. More than this he saw she was far from well, and the hand she gave him was as hot as fire.
"Oh, Miss Horton, you're sick!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter?"
"I have a severe headache," she answered. "I think it will pass away soon."
She sank down on a dilapidated lounge, and he took a kitchen chair. He saw that she trembled from head to foot, and that she had been worrying ever since he had left her.
"You mustn't worry too much," he said, as kindly as he could. "Mrs. Kennedy says you can stay here as long as you feel like it."
"But she is poor, Nelson, and I—I haven't any money, excepting what you gave me, and you must take that back—you need it."
"No, I don't need it, Miss Gertrude. See, I've got a lot of money now. I collared that thief and made him give up what he had left, over three dollars—and I've earned the rest selling papers. That's why I didn't come before. I've fixed it up with Mrs. Kennedy, and you can stay just as long as you please."
"And you are going to pay her?" cried the girl warmly. "Oh, Nelson! you are indeed good-hearted. But, no; I must support myself."
"Well, you needn't hurry about it. I can earn enough for both of us just now—and that's what I am going to do. Why shouldn't I? It was my fault that your uncle put you out."
"No, Nelson; the fault, if it was a fault, was my own. The matter was of long standing. Homer Bulson had wished to marry me for a long time, but I have constantly refused him. Now he has gotten my uncle to side with him. They expect to bring me to terms, I suppose. More than likely my uncle thought I would come back to-day, to do as he wishes."
"I wouldn't go back."
"I shall not. I have made up my mind fully. I will support myself, and Homer Bulson can have Uncle Mark's whole estate, if he wishes it. Surely, in such a big city as this there is something I can do."
"I wouldn't go at sewing—it don't pay."
"What does pay—that I can do?"
"You might get a position in a store. Or maybe you know how to play the piano?" went on our hero suddenly.
"I do know how to play. I took instructions for several years, and have played at private concerts, in Philadelphia."
"Then you can give piano lessons."
"But where can I get pupils?"
"We'll advertise in the papers," went on the newsboy, with some importance. "I know an advertising man down on the Row. He says anybody can do business by advertising. I'll ask him about it. Of course you'll want to give lessons at folks' houses—being as you haven't a piano of your own."
"Yes," answered Gertrude, and her face brightened greatly. "I could do that, and I would go cheaply first, to get a start."
"Do you want to put your name in the advertisement?"
"No, have the letters sent to the newspaper offices, and sign the advertisement——" Gertrude paused in thought.
"Weber," finished Nelson. "That's the name of a swell piano, isn't it?"
"It might be too grand for the folks we wish to reach," said Gertrude. "Sign it 'Earnest.'"
"And how much will the lessons be?"
"I ought to get at least fifty cents."
"Then I'll tell the advertising man that. Oh, he's a dandy to write the ads up—makes 'em look like regular bargains!" added the boy enthusiastically.
Nelson remained at the rooms a while longer, and then hurried to Sam Pepper's place. To his surprise Pepper had locked up, and on the window was the sign:
"Closed for repairs. Will open as a first-class café in about two weeks."
"He hasn't lost any time in going ahead," thought our hero. "I wonder where he is?"
"Sam's out of town," called out a bootblack who had some chairs close by. "Told me to give you this." And he passed over an envelope, containing a sheet of paper and the store key. On the sheet was written:
"Gone away for two or three days," thought Nelson. "I wonder what he is up to now?"
He went inside, and saw at once that many of the old fixtures had been removed, and that the little kitchen in the rear had been turned almost inside out. The living apartment, however, was as it had been, excepting that Sam Pepper had used it for packing purposes, and the floor was strewn with bits of paper and some excelsior.
"If I'm to stay here, I might as well clean up," thought our hero, and set to work with a broom. "And then I'll take an hour off and clean and mend my clothes."
In cleaning up Nelson came across several letters, which were old and mussed. Whether Sam Pepper had thought to throw them away or not, he did not know. To make sure, he picked the letters up and looked them over.
"Hullo!" he cried. "Here's more of a mystery."
The letters were addressed to Pepperill Sampson and were signed Mark Horton. The majority of them concerned some orders for dry goods to be shipped to various Western cities, but there was one which was not of that nature. This ran in part as follows:
"I have watched your doings closely for three weeks, and I am now satisfied that you are no longer working for my interest, but in the interest of rival concerns. More than that, I find that you are putting down sums to your expense account which do not belong there. The books for the past month show that you are behind over a hundred and fifty dollars. At this rate I cannot help but wonder how far behind you must be on the year and two months you have been with our house.
"You can consider yourself discharged from this date. Our Mr. Smith will come on immediately and take charge of your samples. Should you attempt to make any trouble for him or for us, I will immediately take steps to prosecute you. You need never apply to our house for a recommendation, for it will not be a satisfactory one."
The letter was dated twelve years back, and had been sent to Pepperill Sampson while he was stopping in Cleveland. Nelson read the communication twice before he put it away.
Who was Pepperill Sampson? The name sounded as if it might belong to Sam Pepper. Were the two one and the same person?
"They must be the same," thought Nelson. "Sam was once a commercial traveler after he gave up the sea, and I've heard him speak of Cleveland and other Western towns. But to think he once worked for Mark Horton!" He scratched his head reflectively. "Let me see, what did Sam say about the man he wanted me to rob? That he had helped the man who had shot my father. Is there really something in this? And if there is, what can Mark Horton know about the past?"
The mystery was too much for Nelson, and at last he put the letters on a shelf and finished the cleaning. Then he sat down to mend his clothing, and never did a seamstress work more faithfully than did this newsboy. The garments mended, he brushed them carefully.
"There, they look a little better, anyway," he told himself. "And sooner or later I'll have a new suit."
Having finished his toilet, he walked down to Newspaper Row. The tall buildings were now a blaze of lights, and many men of business were departing for their homes. But the newsboy found his friend in his office, a little box of a place on an upper floor of the World building.
The advertising man had always taken an interest in our hero, and he readily consented to transact the business gratis. The advertisements were written out to the boy's satisfaction, and Nelson paid two dollars to have them inserted in several papers the next day and that following.
"If the young lady is a good teacher, I might get her to give my little girl lessons," said Mr. Lamson, as Nelson was leaving.
"I know she's all right, sir," answered the boy. "Just give her a trial and see. She's a real lady, too, even if she is down on her luck."
"Then let her call on my wife to-morrow morning. I'll speak to my wife about it to-night."
"I will, sir, and thank you very much, Mr. Lamson." And our hero went off, greatly pleased. Late as it was, he walked up to Mrs. Kennedy's rooms again. This time the old Irishwoman herself let him in.
"Sure and it's Nelson," she said.
"I've got good news, Miss Gertrude," he said, on entering. "I put the advertisements in the papers through Mr. Lamson, and he told me that you might call on his wife to-morrow morning about giving his little girl lessons."
"Hear that now!" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy proudly. "Sure, and it takes Nelson to do things, so it does! It meself wishes I had such a b'y."
"I am very thankful," said the girl. "Have you the address?"
"Yes, here it is, on the back of his business card. I know you'll like the place, and maybe they can put you in the way of other places."
"Av course," said Mrs. Kennedy. "Before I had rheumatism I wint out washing, and wan place always brought me another, from some rilative or friend of the family."
"I will go directly after breakfast," said Gertrude. "And I hope I shall prove satisfactory."
Knowing the girl must be tired, Nelson did not stay long, and as soon as he had departed Mrs. Kennedy made Gertrude retire. Happily for the girl her headache was now much better, and she slept soundly.
In the morning she helped Mrs. Kennedy prepare their frugal repast. As the old Irishwoman had said, she was troubled with rheumatism, and could not get around very well. So Gertrude insisted upon clearing the table and washing the dishes.
"But, sure, and a lady like you aint used to this work," remonstrated Mrs. Kennedy.
"I mean to get used to it," answered Gertrude. "I mean to fight my way through and put up with what comes."
Mr. Lamson's home was over a mile away, but not wishing to spend the carfare Gertrude walked the distance.
She was expected, and found Mrs. Lamson a nice lady, who occupied a flat of half a dozen rooms on a quiet and respectable side street. She played several selections, two from sight, which the lady of the house produced.
"That is very good indeed, Miss Horton," said Mrs. Lamson. "You read music well. Little Ruth can begin at once, and you can give her a lesson once a week. Ruth, this is Miss Horton, your new music-teacher."
A girl of nine came shyly forward and shook hands. Soon Gertrude was giving her first lesson in music. It was rather long, but Ruth did not mind it. Then Mrs. Lamson paid the fifty cents, and Gertrude went away.
"She's awfully nice," said Ruth to her mamma. "I know I shall like her."
"She is certainly a lady," was Mrs. Lamson's comment. "It is easy to see that by her breeding."
A new look shone in Gertrude's eyes as she hurried down the street. In her pocket was the first money she had ever earned in her life. She felt a spirit of independence that was as delightful as it was novel.
She had already seen her advertisements in two of the papers, and she trusted they would bring her enough pupils to fill her time. She felt that she could easily give five or six lessons a day. If she could get ten or twelve pupils, that would mean five or six dollars per week, and if she could get twenty pupils it would mean ten dollars.
"I wish I could get the twenty. Then I could help Nelson. He is so very kind, I would like to do something in return for him," was her thought.
The weather was so pleasant she decided to take a little walk. She did not know much about the lower portion of the city, and walked westward until she reached Broadway, not far from where our hero was in the habit of selling morning papers.
Gertrude was looking into the show window of a store, admiring some pretty pictures, when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turning, found herself face to face with Homer Bulson.
"Gertrude!" exclaimed the young man. "I have been looking high and low for you! Where have you been keeping yourself?"
"That is my business, Mr. Bulson," she answered stiffly.
"Why, Gertrude, you are not going to be angry at me, are you?"
"Why shouldn't I be angry? Haven't you made enough trouble for me?"
"I haven't made any trouble—you made that yourself," he answered, somewhat ruffled by her tone.
"I do not think so."
"Uncle Mark is very much upset over your disappearance."
"Does he wish me to come back?" she questioned eagerly.
"No, I can't say that," answered Homer Bulson smoothly. "But he doesn't want you to suffer. He said, if I saw you, I should give you some money."
"Thank you, but I can take care of myself."
"Have you money?"
"I can take care of myself; that is enough."
"Why don't you let me take care of you, Gertrude?"
"Because I do not like you, Mr. Bulson. How is Uncle Mark to-day?"
"About as usual. You must have upset him very much. Of course I don't believe you took any money out of his safe," went on Bulson. "I guess the guilty party was that young rascal who called on you."
"Nelson is no rascal. He is an honest boy."
"Nelson!" ejaculated the young man. "Is his name Nelson?"
"Yes. You act as if you had met him."
"I—er—no—but I have—have heard of him," stammered the young man.
"He called on you once, I believe, with somebody who sold you some books."
"I don't remember that. But he must be the thief."
"I tell you Nelson is no thief."
"Thank you for that, Miss Gertrude," came from behind the pair, and our hero stepped up. "Mr. Bulson, you haven't any right to call me a thief," he went on, confronting the fashionable young man.
"Go away, boy; I want nothing to do with you," answered Bulson. Nevertheless, he looked curiously at our hero.
"I am no thief, but you are pretty close to being one," went on Nelson.
"Me!"
"Yes, you. You tried to swindle a friend of mine out of the sale of some books you had ordered from him. I call that downright mean."
"Boy, don't dare to talk to me in this fashion!" stormed the young man. "If you do, I'll—I'll hand you over to the police."
"No, you won't. You just leave me alone and I'll leave you alone," answered the newsboy. "And you leave Miss Gertrude alone, too," he added warmly.
"Gertrude, have you taken up with this common fellow?" asked Bulson.
"Nelson has been my friend," answered the girl. "He has a heart of gold."
"I can't agree with you. He is but a common boy of the streets, and——"
Homer Bulson went no further, for Nelson came closer and clenched his fists.
"Stop, or I'll make you take it back, big as you are," said the boy.
"Then you won't accept my protection?" said Bulson, turning his back on our hero.
"No. If Uncle Mark wishes to write to me he can address me in care of the General Post Office," answered Gertrude.
"All right; then I'll bid you good-day," said Homer Bulson, and tipping his silk hat, he hurried on and was soon lost to sight on the crowded thoroughfare.
"I hate that man!" murmured Nelson, when he had disappeared.
"I both hate and fear him," answered Gertrude. "I am afraid he intends to cause me a great deal of trouble."
After the above incident several weeks slipped by without anything out of the ordinary happening.
In the meantime Sam Pepper's place was thoroughly remodeled and became a leading café on the East Side—a resort for many characters whose careers would not stand investigation. The man seemed wrapped up in his business, but his head was busy with schemes of far greater importance.
He had said but little to Nelson, who spent a good part of his time at Mrs. Kennedy's rooms with Gertrude. Sam had found the letters and put them in a safe place without a word, and the boy had not dared to question him about them. Nor had Pepper questioned Nelson concerning what the lad knew or suspected.
The results of Gertrude's advertising were not as gratifying as anticipated; still the girl obtained seven pupils, which brought her in three dollars and a half weekly. Most of the lessons had to be given on Saturdays, when her pupils were home from school, and this made it necessary that she ride from house to house, so that thirty-five cents of the money went for carfare.
"Never mind," said the newsboy; "it's better than nothing, and you'll get more pupils, sooner or later."
The boy himself worked as never before, getting up before sunrise and keeping at it with "sporting extras" until almost midnight. In this manner he managed to earn sometimes as high as ten dollars per week. He no longer helped Pepper around his resort, and the pair compromised on three dollars per week board money from Nelson. The rest of the money our hero either saved or offered to Gertrude. All he spent on himself was for the suit, shoes, and hat he had had so long in his mind.
"I declare, you look like another person!" cried the girl, when he presented himself in his new outfit, and with his hair neatly trimmed, and his face and hands thoroughly scrubbed. "Nelson, I am proud of you!" And she said this so heartily that he blushed furiously. Her gentle influence was beginning to have its effect, and our hero was resolved to make a man of himself in the best meaning of that term.
One day Nelson was at work, when George Van Pelt came along.
"How goes it, George?" asked the boy.
"Nothing to brag about," returned Van Pelt. "How goes it with you?"
"I am doing very well. Made ten dollars and fifteen cents last week."
"Phew! That's more than I made."
"How much did you make?"
"Eight dollars. I wish we could buy out that news stand. I am sick of tramping around trying to sell books," went on George Van Pelt. "Last week I was over in Jersey City, and one woman set her dog on me."
"I hope you didn't get bit," said Nelson with a laugh.
"No, but the dog kept a sample of my pants."
"Have you heard anything more of the stand?"
"The owner says he's going to sell out sure by next week. He told me he would take ninety dollars cash. He's going away and don't want a mortgage now."
"Ninety dollars. How much have you got?"
"I can scrape up forty dollars on a pinch."
"I've got fifteen dollars."
"That makes fifty-five dollars. We'll want thirty-five more. How can we get that amount?"
"I reckon we can save it up—inside of a few weeks, if we both work hard."
"The man won't wait. There's a party will give him seventy-five dollars cash right away. He's going to take that if he can't get ninety."
At that moment Nelson caught sight of the familiar figure of a stout gentleman crossing the street toward him, and ran out to meet the party.
"Good-morning, sir!" he said. "Have some papers this morning?"
"Hullo! you're the boy that saved me from being run over a few weeks ago," returned the stout gentleman.
"Yes, sir."
"I'll have a Sun and a Journal, and you can give me a Times, too. How is business?"
"Good, sir."
"I was in a hurry that day, or I would have stopped to reward you," went on the gentleman.
"You did reward me, sir."
"Did I? I had forgotten. You see, that fire in Harlem was in a house of mine. I was terribly upset. But the matter is all straightened out now."
"I hope you didn't lose much."
"No, the loss went to the insurance companies." The stout gentleman paused. "My lad, I would like to do something for you," he went on seriously.
"Have you got a job for me?"
"I don't know as I have, just now. But if you need help——"
"I do need help, sir. Are you a capitalist?"
"A capitalist?" queried the man, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean one of those gentlemen that loan money out on business? I've heard of 'em, down in Wall Street."
"Well, I sometimes loan money out."
"Then I'd like to borrow thirty-five dollars." Nelson beckoned to George Van Pelt, who had moved off a short distance. "You see, it's this way," he went on, and then told about the news stand that was for sale, and what he and the book agent wished to do.
Mr. Amos Barrow, for such was the gentleman's name, listened attentively.
"And you think this would be a good investment?" he questioned.
"Yes, it's a good stand," said Van Pelt.
"But you ought to have some money with which to stock up."
"We'll work hard and build it up," said our hero. "I know that neighborhood well. Old Maxwell never 'tended to business. I'll go around and get twice as large a paper route as he ever had. And we can keep plenty of ten-cent paper-covered books, and all that."
"And we can keep things for school children, too," put in George Van Pelt. "There is a school near by, and many of the children pass the stand four times a day."
"Well, I'll give you fifty dollars, Nelson," said Mr. Barrow. "That will help you to buy the stand and give you fifteen dollars working capital."
"You can't give me the money, sir. But you can loan it to me."
"But why won't you let me give it to you?" laughed the stout gentleman. "Isn't my life worth that?"
"It isn't that, sir. I want to do this in a regular business fashion."
"All right; have your own way, my lad."
"We'll give you a mortgage on the stand," said George Van Pelt.
"Never mind the mortgage. I believe I can read faces, and I'll take the boy's word," answered Mr. Barrow.
Hauling out a fat pocketbook, he counted out five new ten-dollar bills and passed them over to our hero.
"There you are," he said. "I would rather you would keep them. But if not, you can pay the amount back whenever it is convenient." And he passed over his business card. A few minutes later he hurried on.
"He's a brick!" was George Van Pelt's comment. "Now we can buy the stand."
"All right," answered Nelson. "But I want to get rid of my morning papers first."
"Well, I have several books to deliver. I'll do that, and then we can meet at the stand after dinner."
So it was agreed, and the pair separated.
Business continued good with our hero, and by eleven o'clock he had sold out. Anxious to look the stand over, he hurried off in that direction.
He found old Maxwell sitting on a soap-box, reading a sporting paper. The stand was full of dust and the stock much disarranged. Evidently the owner had lost interest in it.
"I understand you want to sell out," said Nelson.
"I do," answered Maxwell. "Want to buy?"
"I might buy if you sell out cheap enough."
"I want a hundred dollars."
"A hundred? I thought you'd sell out for seventy-five."
"No, I've been asking a hundred. I might knock off ten dollars, though."
Nelson looked the stand over, and asked some questions about the trade done.
"I'll give you eighty dollars cash," he said, at last.
"Make it ninety."
"No, eighty, and not a cent more."
"When will you take the stand?"
"This afternoon, and I'll pay fifty dollars now."
"All right, you can have it," replied Maxwell.
A bill of sale was drawn up, and Nelson paid the fifty dollars on account. Then he went off for lunch; first, however, taking an account of the stock on hand.
"What you take in from now on is mine," he said.
"All right, you shall have it," replied the old stand-keeper.
Nelson remained on watch, and as soon as he saw George Van Pelt coming he headed him off and took him around the corner.
"I've bought the stand," he said.
"Already?"
"Yes. I had a talk with old Maxwell, offered him eighty cash, and he took me up. So we've saved ten dollars."
"He'll be mad when he learns he might have had ninety."
"He needn't know. Give me your money, and I'll pay him the balance."
So it was arranged, and Nelson went to the stand and closed the deal. Old Maxwell had taken in thirty-two cents, and this was passed over to the boy.
"Going to run the stand alone?" queried the old man.
"No, a man is going to help me," said our hero.
"Who is it?"
"George Van Pelt."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" exclaimed old Maxwell. "I thought he wanted the stand himself."
"He couldn't raise the money. Here he comes now."
Nelson beckoned to Van Pelt, and soon both were hard at work cleaning up the stand. They talked the matter over and agreed to give old Maxwell a dollar more, if he would come around for two mornings and explain whatever proved strange to them.
"Sure, I'll do it," said Maxwell. "I want you to get the best of the man up on the elevated station and the man on the next block. They are both mean fellows and don't deserve any trade."
"We intend to hustle and get all the trade we can," said our hero.
It must be confessed that he felt very proud of his situation. He was no longer a mere newsboy, but a business man, and he felt, somehow, as if he had grown several inches taller.
"We must have a sign," said Van Pelt. "What will we make it—Van Pelt & Pepper, Newsdealers?"
"I don't like the name Pepper—for a last name, I mean," said our hero, scratching his curly head. "Better make it Van Pelt & Company, for the present." And the next day an oilcloth sign was tacked up proclaiming the new firm, and notifying all that they dealt in newspapers, magazines, books, and school supplies. While Nelson tended the stand George Van Pelt went downtown to a jobbing house and bought some extra stock. In a few days business was in full blast and prospects looked very bright.
"I am glad to see you doing well," said Gertrude, on visiting the stand one Saturday, after giving her music lessons. "It looks quite like a place of business. It won't be long before you'll have a store."
"We'll have to save up for it," answered our hero.
He wanted the girl to stay a little while, but she could not, for Mrs. Kennedy was down with rheumatism and was next to helpless.
"She has been very kind to me and I wish to do what I can for her," said Gertrude.
"Is her stand closed?"
"No, Gladys Summers is running it for her. She has put her flowers in with the other stock."
"Gladys is good-hearted, too," was Nelson's comment.
Sam Pepper heard of the newsboy's new move two days after the stand was bought.
"Going into business with George Van Pelt, eh?" he observed, when Nelson came home that night.
"Yes."
"He's a poor sort. He'll never get rich. He's not slick enough."
"I'm satisfied with him," returned the newsboy briefly.
"What did you take in to-day?"
"A little over nine dollars."
"Phew! that's better than I thought. How much profit?"
"About three dollars and a half above expenses."
"And you git half?"
"Yes."
"Then you ought to pay me more board money."
"I'm paying all it's worth now. I get no more meals, remember—I only use this place to sleep in."
"Well, that's worth more."
"I'm thinking of getting a room near the stand," went on Nelson, after a pause.
"What! you want to leave me!" roared Sam Pepper.
"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here. I don't want anything to do with your saloon."
"That's a nice way to talk to me."
"I can't help it. I hate the saloon, and it's too far to come down here just to sleep; especially when I have to leave so early in the morning."
"Supposing I don't let you leave?"
To this Nelson made no reply.
"You're a nice son, I must say," went on Sam Pepper. "This is what I git for raising you."
"I am not your son, Sam Pepper. As for what you've done for me, I'm willing to pay you for that. You let me leave without any fuss and I'll give you two dollars a week until the debt is paid."
"Two dollars a week aint much."
"It's all I can afford, with my other expenses."
"Reckon you don't care much for me, any more."
"I never did care for you, and you know it. I don't like drinking people and the other kind that hang around here. I want to become respectable and make something of myself."
"Aint I respectable?" roared Pepper, raising his fist in anger. "Say that again, and I'll knock you down."
"I said that I didn't like the crowd that hangs around here. I'm going to get out, whether you take up my offer or not."
"Then clear out—and the sooner the better. It's a pity I didn't kick you out," growled Sam Pepper, walking the floor savagely. "Go! go to-night!"
"I will," answered our hero.
No more was said, and the boy tied up what little clothing he had in a newspaper. He was soon ready to depart, and then he faced Pepper again.
"Good-by," he said, holding out his hand. "Let us part friends."
"You've missed it by turning against me," said Pepper, with a strange look in his eyes. "I might have made you rich."
"How?"
"Never mind now. You can go your way, and I'll go mine. I don't want to shake hands. Go!" And he turned his back on the newsboy.
"One word more, before I leave," said our hero. "Will you tell me my right name?"
"I won't tell you anything. If Nelson Pepper aint good enough for you, you can make the name what you please."
"Then good-by," said Nelson, a little sadly, and in a moment more he was gone.
It was so late he knew not where to look for a room that night, so trudged back to the stand. It was entirely inclosed with wooden shutters, and large enough inside for him to make himself fairly comfortable, and there he remained until daylight.
"I'm glad to hear you've left Pepper," said George Van Pelt, when he heard the news. "He's a bad fellow, and getting worse. If you want, you can get a room in the house next to where I live."
"What will they charge me?"
"You can get a small, but clean, hall bedroom for a dollar a week."
"That will just suit me," answered our hero.
The place was but three blocks away from the stand, and Nelson made the necessary arrangements that afternoon, during the time when trade was dull.
Nelson wondered what Pepper had meant by saying he had missed it in turning against the man. Did Pepper refer to the past, or did he have in mind what he could leave when he died?
"I don't want a cent of his money," our hero told himself; "but I would like to solve the mystery of my birth and parentage."