On the night following Nelson's leave-taking from Sam Pepper's establishment the keeper of the resort stood behind his bar, doing business as usual. The place now glistened with glasses and mirrors, but its so-called beauty was lost to view in the tobacco smoke which filled every nook and corner.
The lunch tables had given place to little round affairs where the patrons might drink and play cards, and several of the tables were filled by a noisy crowd.
Sam Pepper had just gotten rid of two tramps who wished drinks without paying for them, when he was surprised to see the door open slowly, and Homer Bulson showed himself.
"Ah! how do you do, Mr. Bulson?" he said cheerily.
"Please don't talk so loud," replied the young man, as he came in and walked to the rear end of the polished bar.
"All right, if you want it that way. Have a drink?"
"Some whisky!" was the careless answer.
"How are you making out with the girl?"
"Haven't you heard? She has left the house. My uncle cast her out."
Sam Pepper gave a long, low whistle.
"Things seems to be coming all your way," he remarked.
"I don't know about that. Don't you know that Gertrude Horton and Nelson the Newsboy are friends?"
"I've heard they knew each other."
"They are friends."
"What do you know of it?"
"I met her on Broadway one day, and he came up and wouldn't give me a chance to talk to her. Do you know where she is now?"
"No."
"Nelson must know. Question him when he comes in, will you?"
"I will—when he comes. He doesn't live with me any longer, you must remember."
"He doesn't? When did he leave?"
"Yesterday. He and a man have bought out a news stand, and he's going to live near by."
"You mustn't lose track of him—just yet."
"Trust me for that, Mr. Bulson."
"If you hear anything of Gertrude, let me know at once. If you can help me, I'll pay you well."
"I'm your man and I'll remember," answered Sam Pepper, and thereupon Homer Bulson finished his liquor, threw down a quarter dollar, and started to leave.
"Where can I find you, if you're not at home?" called Pepper after him.
"Generally at the Broxton Club," answered Bulson. "You know where that is, near Union Square." And as Pepper nodded, he opened the door and walked away.
After this, business continued brisk for half an hour, when Sam Pepper found it necessary to go to a back room for some bottles.
Hardly had he left the saloon when the door was opened, and much to the astonishment of the men at the round tables a young lady, plainly dressed, stepped in. It was Gertrude.
"I say, that's a fine girl," remarked one of the men, a rounder named Worden. "She's a new one around here, aint she?"
"Reckon she is," returned another.
"How do you do, miss?" went on the first man, getting up and tipping his hat.
"Excuse me, sir," said the girl. "Is Mr. Pepper in?"
"Yes, here he comes now," answered Con Worden, and fell back to the table again, followed by his companion.
"You are Mr. Sam Pepper?" said Gertrude timidly. The general appearance of the place frightened her.
"That's my name, miss. But you've got the advantage of me."
"I am Gertrude Horton."
Sam Pepper stared at her in the greatest astonishment.
"Well, I'm blowed," he muttered to himself. "This beats the Dutch!"
"I believe you are Nelson's foster father," continued Gertrude.
The café keeper nodded.
"Is he here?"
"Well—er—he aint here yet," answered Pepper, hardly knowing what to say. "But if you'll sit down he may come soon."
"I—I guess I had better remain outside," said Gertrude, looking around with much disgust. "You are quite sure he'll come soon? I wish to see him about Mrs. Kennedy. She has been taken dangerously ill, and I do not know what to do. Could you send him over to her place when he comes?"
"Better wait for him, Miss Horton. Come, I'll show you into our sitting room. It's not a grand place, but it's clean and quiet. Come."
He pointed to one of the back rooms, now fixed up as a sitting room. She hesitated, but before she could resist he caught her by the arm.
"Nobody shall disturb you here," he half whispered. And before she knew it she was in the sitting room. The gas was turned down, but he turned it up. Then he went out, closing the door after him. "Nelson must come in soon," he said.
Gertrude sank down on a chair. Her mind was concerned entirely over the serious sickness which had suddenly overtaken good Mrs. Kennedy, and consequently she thought little of herself. But when she heard some shutters to the window of the sitting room slam from the outside she leaped to her feet.
"What can that mean?" she cried, and ran to the window. Trying the shutters, she found them fastened from the outside. At once she crossed over to the door, to find it locked.
"He has made me a prisoner!" she moaned. Then she knocked loudly on the door, but nobody came to answer her summons.
In the meantime Sam Pepper, having locked the door and fastened the window shutters, called Con Worden to him.
"Worden, do you want to earn a quarter?" he asked.
"Well, I should smile," answered the hanger-on eagerly.
"You saw that gentleman who was here a while ago—him with the silk hat and gold-headed cane."
"Of course I did."
"Go over to the Broxton Club, near Union Square, and see if he is there. Call for Mr. Bulson. If you find him, tell him to come at once."
"All right," said Con Worden, and hurried off.
The Broxton Club was a fashionable resort for young gentlemen who usually had more money than brains. It was located near the upper side of Union Square, and the club apartments consisted of a parlor, a dining and wine room, and a room for card-playing. In the latter apartment gambling went on at nearly all hours of the day and night.
Reaching the club Homer Bulson found several congenial companions, and presently sat down to a game of cards. Bets were made, first at a dollar, then at five, and then at ten and twenty. Bulson had no luck, and soon lost forty dollars.
"I'm on the wrong side to-night," was his dismal comment, and he went to the wine room to forget his losses in the flowing bowl.
He had just finished a glass of liquor when a servant came to him.
"A man at the door to see you, sir," said the servant. "Says he has a private message for you."
Wondering who the messenger could be, Homer Bulson hurried below and found Con Worden awaiting him.
"You want to see me?" he questioned sharply. He did not like the dilapidated appearance of the hanger-on.
"Are you the gent that just came from Sam Pepper's place?"
"What if I am?" asked Bulson cautiously.
"He says he wants to see you at once."
"At once?"
"That's it."
"He didn't say what about?"
"No."
"All right; I'll be over as soon as I can get there."
"I'll tell him that."
Homer Bulson expected Worden to make off at once, but the hanger-on did not budge.
"Well, aren't you going?" asked the young man sharply.
"Certainly, sir; soon as I git paid," said Worden coolly.
"Oh, that's it! What do you want?"
"It's worth a quarter, aint it?"
"I suppose so," answered Bulson carelessly, and passed over a silver piece.
"Thanks; I'm off now," said Con Worden, and speedily disappeared.
In a few minutes Homer Bulson followed the man, and it did not take him long to reach Sam Pepper's resort once more.
As he entered he found Pepper in the act of clearing out all the hangers-on, including Worden, who had just received the quarter promised to him.
"Well, what is it?" asked Homer Bulson.
"I've got news that I guess will surprise you," was the answer.
"What is it?"
"You want to find your cousin Gertrude."
"I do."
"What will you give me for finding her for you?"
"Oh, I don't know. What do you want?"
"Is it worth a hundred dollars?"
"What, for just finding her?"
"For finding her and putting her in your power."
"Can you put her in my power?"
"Perhaps I can."
"When?"
"Very soon,—if you'll pay the hundred."
"I will," returned Bulson eagerly. "Perhaps you've got her in your power already," he went on hastily.
"I have."
"Where?"
"Here."
Homer Bulson looked around him and then stared at Pepper in amazement.
"I don't see her."
"She is in my sitting room, under lock and key."
"Back there?"
The café keeper nodded.
"But I can't understand it, Pepper. How did you get her here, and so soon? You didn't have her when I was here before, did you?"
"Of course not. Right after you went away she came in, looking for Nelson, because the woman she lives with is very sick. I told her to wait in the sitting room, and then I locked the door and the window on her."
"What is she doing now?"
As if in reply to the young man's question there was a loud knock on the sitting-room door.
"Mr. Pepper! Mr. Pepper!" came in Gertrude's voice.
"She has knocked several times," said Pepper. "But I didn't mind that. I'm thankful she hasn't begun to kick and scream."
"I must have a talk with her. Now that she finds she is in our power, perhaps she'll come to terms."
"More than likely."
The door was unlocked, and Sam Pepper allowed Homer Bulson to enter the room.
"Watch the door, if you don't want her to get away," whispered Sam Pepper, and the young man winked one eye knowingly.
On seeing her cousin Gertrude fell back in astonishment.
"What, you?" she faltered.
"Yes, Gertrude, I've been looking for you," he answered.
"Where is Nelson?"
"I don't know, and I don't care. I don't see how you can interest yourself in that young ruffian."
"He is more of a true gentleman than you will ever be, Mr. Bulson."
"You are truly complimentary, Gertrude. But you do not know your own mind, nor what is best for you. This running away has upset your judgment."
"I did not run away—I was driven away—and all because of you."
"Then let me set matters right for you."
"Will you do that?" she asked eagerly.
"I promise I will—if you'll only marry me."
"Always the same thing!" she cried, bursting into tears. "I will not listen. Let me go."
She started for the door, but he placed himself directly in her path.
"Wait a minute. Where do you live?"
"I decline to answer that question."
"I'll wager it is in some low tenement house, among the poorest people."
"I live among poor people, it is true, but they are not low, as you understand the word."
"Did Nelson Pepper find the place for you?"
"He did."
"Always that boy! You make me angry with your foolishness. Why don't you come back? I want to share Uncle Mark's fortune with you."
"I have talked all I wish upon the subject."
"How are you to live? You never did any work in your whole life."
"I can work when it is necessary."
"At what?"
"I am giving piano lessons."
"At starvation wages, I presume," he sneered.
"I am making an honest living. Thousands can do no more. Now I demand that you let me go."
Again she moved toward the door, and again he stood in her path.
"Did you hear what I said?" she cried. "Stand aside!"
"I will stand aside—when we have come to terms," he answered, setting his teeth. "You shall not leave this house until you have promised to do as I and your uncle desire."
On the same evening that Gertrude visited Sam Pepper's establishment, Nelson, after closing up, determined to run down and call upon the girl and tell her about the stand and how well they had done that day.
"She'll be pleased, I know," he told himself. "She wants me to make a man of myself."
Arriving at the tenement house, he ascended the stairs to Mrs. Kennedy's rooms and knocked upon the back door. To his surprise Gladys Summers, the flower girl, let him in.
"Hullo, Gladys! you here?" he said.
"Oh, Nelson! I thought it was Gertrude," answered the flower girl. "Did you bring her along?"
"Along? I haven't seen her."
"She went over to Sam Pepper's place to bring you here. Mrs. Kennedy is very sick, and we didn't know what to do."
"I haven't been to Sam's place. I left there yesterday for good. What's the matter with the old lady?"
"Her rheumatism has got up around her heart, and she's very bad. I think she ought to have a doctor."
"She shall have one, Gladys. Was Gertrude going to get one?"
"No, she was going to get you to do that. She doesn't know anything of doctors down here, so she said."
"I'll have one here in a little while," said our hero, and ran down the stairs, two steps at a time.
Two blocks below the house there was a drug store, and a doctor had his office upstairs. The physician was in, and listened to what Nelson had to say.
"I'll go," he said. "But you know my terms to strangers."
"How much will the visit be?"
"A dollar."
"There's your money." And our hero handed it over.
The pair were soon at Mrs. Kennedy's bedside, and after an examination the doctor wrote out a prescription and Nelson had it filled at the drug store. The physician said he would call again the following afternoon.
"She's in a bad state," he said. "She has likely had this rheumatism for years, and her age is against her."
"Don't you think she'll get over it?" asked our hero.
"I think she will. But she may be helpless for many weeks."
"It's hard luck. She hasn't any money."
"Then you had better send her to the hospital."
"No, she shall stay home, if she wants to," said Nelson. "I guess I and the rest can take care of her. She was always good to me and the others."
After the medicine had been administered and Mrs. Kennedy was a trifle easier, Nelson began to grow impatient that Gertrude had not yet returned.
"I guess I'll go out and hunt her up," he said to Gladys Summers. "Will you stay here?"
"Yes; I promised to stay all night, Nelson."
Our hero was soon in the street again and making his way rapidly over to the East Side in the direction of Sam Pepper's resort. It was now late, but this part of the city was still bustling with life. Yet to our hero's surprise, when he reached Pepper's place he found it locked up.
"Closed!" he muttered. "This is queer. I wonder where Gertrude went?"
He stood for a moment on the pavement, then went and rapped loudly on the glass of the door.
For a minute there was no response, then, as he rapped again, Sam Pepper appeared. His face fell when he lifted a door shade and saw our hero.
"What do you want now?" he growled, as he opened the door for a space of several inches.
"Was that young lady over here to find me?" asked our hero.
"Nobody here to see you," answered Sam Pepper gruffly.
"She wasn't? Why, she started for here."
"I haven't seen anybody. Is that all you want?"
"Yes. Why are you shut up so early?"
"I didn't feel very well and thought I'd go to bed and sleep it off," answered Pepper smoothly. "I'm going back again. Good-night!"
"Then you haven't seen her at all?" persisted the newsboy.
"Haven't I told you so before? Now, don't disturb me again." And with this Sam Pepper slammed the door shut and locked it.
Nelson was nonplused, not so much by what Pepper had said as by the man's manner.
"He wanted to get rid of me in a hurry," he mused. "Somehow, this affair doesn't look right to me."
While our hero was standing near the curb, speculating upon where next to look for Gertrude, he was surprised to see Paul Randall come down the street.
"Why, Paul, how is it you are out so late?" he asked.
"Got stuck on some sporting extras and was bound to sell 'em," answered Paul. "Say, I hear you've bought out a stand."
"George Van Pelt and I have bought out a stand."
"Hope you make lots of money. If you need a clerk, don't forget me."
"I won't forget you, Paul. We have a boy now who delivers papers for us. He talks of leaving. If he does, I'll let you know. But, I say, have you been around here long?"
"Most all the evening."
"You know that young lady who is stopping with Mrs. Kennedy, don't you?"
"Yes. Gladys Summers calls her 'the angel,'" answered Paul readily. "She's a real lady, aint she, Nelson?"
"She is."
"I saw her go into Pepper's an hour or two ago."
"You did! I was going to ask you if you had seen her. You haven't made any mistake?"
"Not much! I'd know her in a whole city full—she's so sweet and beautiful."
"Did you see her come away?"
"No."
"Were you around so you could have seen her?"
"Yes; and I kept my eye on the door for almost an hour. I thought you might be with her."
"No; Sam Pepper and I have parted for good, Paul. I've got a room uptown, near the stand. I'd like to know what became of the young lady."
"If she came out, it must have been after I went away."
Paul knew that his mother, who was now getting better, would be anxious about him, so, without waiting longer, he hurried on. Nelson remained on the sidewalk, in deep thought.
Presently, as he was looking toward Sam Pepper's resort, he saw a corner of a curtain lifted and saw the man peer out at him. Then the curtain was dropped again.
"He's watching me," thought the newsboy. "Something is wrong here, and I know it. He and that Homer Bulson are friends, and Bulson is bound to make Miss Gertrude marry him. Perhaps they have hatched up some game against Miss Gertrude."
Not to make Sam Pepper more suspicious, Nelson walked briskly away, up the street. But at the first corner he turned, sped down the side street, and then into the alleyway connecting with the rear of Pepper's resort.
It took him but a minute to ascertain that the shutters to the rear room were tightly closed, and held together by a wire bound from one catch to the other.
The shutters were solid, but near the tops were several round holes, put there for ventilating purposes.
Looking around our hero discovered an empty barrel, and standing on this he managed to look through one of the holes into the apartment.
He saw Gertrude sitting on a chair, the picture of misery. The hot tears were flowing down her cheeks.
The sight went straight to his heart, and without waiting to think of results, he leaped from the barrel, pulled away the wire, and flung the shutters open. Then he lifted the window, which had been pulled down, but not fastened.
Gertrude heard the noise and leaped up in fresh alarm. But when she saw our hero she gave a cry of joy.
"Oh, Nelson! will you help me?" she gasped.
"Certainly I'll help you, Miss Gertrude," he answered. "What are they doing—keeping you a prisoner here?"
"Something like that. Mr. Bulson was here and went out to get a coach, so that he could take me away. Mr. Pepper is on guard in his saloon."
"Just come with me, and you'll be safe."
Gertrude came to the window, and Nelson helped her into the alleyway. Just as she leaped from the window Sam Pepper unlocked the door and opened it.
"Stop!" roared the man. "Stop, I say!"
"Don't stop!" said Nelson, and caught Gertrude by the hand. Dark as it was, the boy knew the narrow and dirty thoroughfare well, and soon led his companion to the street beyond. Pepper came as far as the window, and called after them once more, but did not dare to follow further.
'STOP!' ROARED THE MAN. 'STOP, I SAY!'"
Nelson the Newsboy. —Page 154
"Oh, how thankful I am that you came!" exclaimed Gertrude, when she felt safe once more.
"I'm glad myself," answered Nelson heartily. "But how was it Pepper made you a prisoner?"
"I went there to find you, because Mrs. Kennedy is so sick. I must get back to her at once."
"There is no need to hurry." And Nelson told of what he and Gladys had done for the patient.
Then Gertrude related her story and told how Homer Bulson had said she must marry him.
"He was going to take me to some place in New Jersey," Gertrude continued. "I heard him and Sam Pepper talk it over."
"The both of them are a big pair of rascals!" burst out Nelson. "Oh, I wish I was a man! I'd teach them a lesson!" And he shook his head determinedly.
"I am afraid Mr. Bulson will find out that I am living with Mrs. Kennedy, and he'll watch his chance to make more trouble for me," said the girl despondently. "Oh, why can't he let me alone? He can have my uncle's money, and welcome."
"We'll all be on guard," answered Nelson. "If he tries to harm you, call a policeman. Perhaps that will scare him."
Gertrude returned to her home with Mrs. Kennedy, and satisfied that Homer Bulson would do nothing further that night, the newsboy started to walk uptown.
But presently he changed his mind and turned his footsteps toward the East Side. When he reached the vicinity of Sam Pepper's resort he saw a coach drawn up in front of the place.
Homer Bulson was just coming out of the resort with Sam Pepper behind him.
"It's too bad," our hero heard Bulson say.
"You're a fine rascal!" cried the boy boldly. "For two pins I'd have you locked up."
"Here he is now!" exclaimed Bulson. "Pepper, you ought to take him in hand for his impudence."
"Sam Pepper won't touch me, and you won't touch me, either," cried our hero, with flashing eyes. "You thought you were smart, Mr. Homer Bulson, but your game didn't work. And let me tell you something. If you trouble Miss Horton in the future, she and I are going to put the police on your track."
"Me? The police!" ejaculated the young man, in horror.
"Yes, the police. So, after this, you had better let her alone."
"Nelson, you talk like a fool," put in Sam Pepper.
"I don't think so."
"What is that girl to you? If you'd only stand in with us, it would be money in your pocket."
"I'm not for sale."
"Mr. Bulson wants to do well by her. She don't know how to work. If she marries him, she'll have it easy for the rest of her life."
"But she don't want him, and that's the end of it. I've given you warning now. If anything happens to her I'll call in the police, and I'll tell all I know, and that's more than either of you dream of," concluded our hero, and walked off.
"He's an imp!" muttered Bulson savagely. "I'd like to wring his neck for him!"
"I wonder how much he knows?" said Pepper, in alarm. "It was always a mystery to me how he and the girl fell in with each other."
"He can't know very much, for she doesn't know a great deal, Pepper. He's only talking to scare us," said Bulson. His uncle had not told him of the meeting in the library.
"What are you going to do next?"
"Better wait till this affair blows over. Then Gertrude will be off her guard," concluded Homer Bulson.
After that several weeks slipped by without anything unusual happening. Gertrude kept on her guard when going out to give piano lessons, but neither Bulson nor Pepper showed himself.
Gertrude, Gladys, and Nelson all took turns in caring for Mrs. Kennedy, and the old lady speedily recovered from the severe attack of rheumatism she had experienced. She was anxious to get back to her fruit-and-candy stand.
"It's meself as can't afford to be idle at all," she declared. "Sure an' I must owe yez all a whole lot av money."
"Don't owe me a cent," said Nelson, and Gertrude and Gladys said the same.
Business with the firm was steadily increasing. The boy who had carried the paper route had left, and Paul Randall was now filling the place and doing his best to bring in new trade.
"We'll soon be on our way to opening a regular store," said George Van Pelt, one day. "We really need the room already."
"Let us go slow," said Nelson. "I know a fellow who had a stand near the Fulton ferry. He swelled up and got a big store at fifty dollars a month, and then he busted up in less than half a year. I want to be sure of what I am doing." And Van Pelt agreed with him that that was best.
Of course some newsboys were jealous of our hero's success, and among these were Billy Darnley and Len Snocks. Both came up to the stand while Nelson was in sole charge one afternoon, and began to chaff him.
"T'ink yer big, don't yer?" said Darnley. "I could have a stand like dis, if I wanted it."
"Perhaps you could, if you could steal the money to buy it," replied our hero suggestively.
"Dis aint no good spot fer business," put in Len Snocks. "Why didn't yer git furder downtown?"
"This is good enough for me," said our hero calmly. "If you don't like the stand, you don't have to patronize me."
"Yer don't catch me buyin' nuthin here," burst out Snocks. "We know better where to spend our money; don't we, Billy?"
"Perhaps you called to pay up that balance you owe me," said Nelson to Billy Darnley. "There is a dollar and ninety cents still coming my way."
"Ah, go on wid yer!" growled Billy Darnley, with a sour look. "I wouldn't have de stand, if yer give it to me. Come on, Len!" And he hauled his companion away.
Our hero felt that he could afford to laugh at the pair. "I guess it's a case of sour grapes," he said to himself. "They'd think they were millionaires if they owned a place like this."
Both Darnley and Snocks were out of money, and hungry, and they were prowling along the street, ready to pick up anything which came to hand.
"It's a shame Nelse's got dat stand," said Darnley. "He don't deserve it no more'n I do."
"No more dan me," added Snocks. "It beats all how some fellers strike it lucky, eh?"
"I wish we could git something off of him," went on the larger bully.
"Off de stand?" queried Snocks.
"Yes."
"Maybe we can—to-night, after he locks up."
"Say, dat would be just de t'ing," burst out the larger boy. "Nobody is around, and it would be easy to break open de lock. If only we had a push-cart, we could make a big haul."
"I know an Italian who has one. We can borrow dat."
"Will he lend it?"
"I'll borrow it on de sly."
So a plan was arranged to get the push-cart that night, after the news stand was locked up and Nelson and Van Pelt had gone away. Billy Darnley had a bunch of keys in his pocket, and he felt fairly certain that one or another would fit the lock to the stand.
"Won't Nelse be surprised when he finds de t'ings gone?" said Snocks. "But it will serve him right, won't it?"
"To be sure," added Darnley. "He's gittin' too high-toned. He wants to come down out of de clouds."
In some manner of her own Mrs. Kennedy had found out that that day was Gertrude's birthday, and she had concocted a scheme with Nelson and Gladys to give her a surprise.
"Sure an' the poor dear deserves a bit av pleasure," said the old Irishwoman. "This humdrum life is almost a-killin' av her. We'll buy her a few things, and have a bit av a party supper."
"She shall have my best bouquet," said the flower girl. She loved Gertrude dearly.
Nelson was in a great state of perplexity concerning what to give Gertrude. One after another, different things were considered and rejected.
"You see, she's a regular lady," he said to George Van Pelt, "and I want to give her something that just suits. Now a common girl would like most anything, but she's—well, she's different; that's all."
"Most girls like dresses and hats," suggested Van Pelt.
Nelson shook his head.
"It won't do. Her dresses and her hat are better than I could buy. Besides, I want to give her something she can keep."
"Does she like to read?"
"I guess she does."
"I saw a new book advertised—a choice collection of poems. It's really something fine—far better than most collections. How would that suit?"
"How much was the book?"
"Two dollars and a half, but we, as dealers, can get it for a dollar and seventy-five cents."
"Then that's what I'll get. And I'll write in it, 'To Miss Gertrude Horton, from her true friend Nelson,'" said the boy.
The book was duly purchased, and our hero spent the best part of half an hour in writing in it to his satisfaction. That night he closed up a little early and walked down to the Kennedy home with the volume under his arm.
"Oh, what a splendid book!" cried Gertrude, on receiving it. Then she read the inscription on the fly-leaf. "Nelson, you are more than kind, and I shall never forget you!" And she squeezed his hand warmly.
Gladys had brought her largest bouquet and also a nice potted plant, and Mrs. Kennedy had presented a sensible present in the shape of a much-needed pair of rubbers.
"Winter will soon be here," said the old woman. "And then it's not our Miss Gertrude is going to git wet feet, at all!"
The girl was taken quite by surprise, and even more so when Mrs. Kennedy brought in a substantial supper, which had been cooking on the stove of a neighbor. To this Nelson added a quart of ice cream from a near-by confectioner's, and the birthday party was voted a great success by all who participated.
"You have all been so kind to me," said Gertrude, when they broke up, "you make me forget what I had to give up."
"Don't ye be after worryin', dear," said Mrs. Kennedy. "'Twill all come out right in the end."
"I trust so, Mrs. Kennedy. But I ask for nothing more than that I can earn my own living and keep the friends I have made," answered the girl.
"How many scholars have you now?" questioned Gladys.
"Fourteen, and two more are promised."
"Sixteen is not bad," said our hero, who knew that that meant eight dollars a week for the teacher.
It was after midnight when the party broke up, and Nelson had to take Gladys to her home, several blocks away. The flower girl lived with a bachelor brother, who supported himself and paid the rent. The rest Gladys had to supply herself.
"I wish I had a regular stand for flowers," she said to Nelson. "I could make a good deal more, then."
"I'll help you buy a stand some day, Gladys," he replied. "I know a good place up in your neighborhood."
That was Nelson, helping everybody he could, and that is why he is the hero of this tale of New York street life.
"If you'll help me I'll pay you back," said the flower girl earnestly. "You know flowers keep so much better when they are in a glass case," she explained.
A light rain was falling when the newsboy at last started for the house where he roomed. He buttoned his coat up around his throat and pulled his hat far down over his eyes.
He was almost to his room when, on turning a corner, he saw two big boys shoving a push-cart along, piled high with goods concealed under some potato sacking. As the boys passed in the glare of an electric light he recognized Billy Darnley and Len Snocks.
"Hullo, this is queer!" he murmured. "Where are they going with that push-cart? I didn't know either of 'em was in the peddling business."
The pair soon passed out of sight, and Nelson continued on his way. Quarter of an hour later he was in bed and in the land of dreams.
It was George Van Pelt's turn to open up the stand on the following morning, our hero being entitled to sleep an hour longer than otherwise in consequence. But hardly had the time for opening arrived when George Van Pelt came rushing around to our hero's room in high excitement.
"Nelson, what does this mean?" he demanded.
"What does what mean?" asked our hero sleepily.
"All the things are gone from the stand!"
"Gone?"
"Yes, everything—papers, books, pens, pencils, writing pads, ink, mucilage, everything. It's a clean sweep. Do you know anything about it?"
"No, I don't," answered Nelson, and now he was as wide awake as his partner. "When did it happen?"
"I don't know—some time before I got there. One of the padlocks was broken and the other unlocked. The rascals even took the money drawer," went on Van Pelt bitterly.
"That had fifteen cents in it," said Nelson. "I took it in after I made up the cash for the day."
"Well, we're in a pickle now," groaned Van Pelt. "And just think, we were insured only day before yesterday."
"But not against burglars," groaned Nelson in return. "If we can't trace up the stuff, we'll have to lose it."
"But we can't afford to lose the stuff. It was worth sixty dollars if it was worth a penny."
"Nearer seventy dollars, for I bought some new pads and paper-bound books yesterday, and they cost seven dollars and a quarter. We must find the robbers." The newsboy hit his washstand with his fist. "By jinks, I've got it! I know who robbed us!"
"Who?"
"Len Snocks and Billy Darnley, those newsboys I told you about. I saw them eying the stand pretty closely, and last night, when I came home from the party, I saw them on the block below here with a push-cart full of goods. I thought it funny at the time. They had the stuff covered with old sacks. I never saw either of them with a push-cart before."
"That certainly is suspicious."
"Have you notified the police?"
"Yes, I told the officer on the beat as I came along. He's going to send in a report. But if you think those fellows are guilty we had better go after them without delay. Otherwise they'll sell the stuff and clear out."
"I think I know where to look for them," said Nelson.
He was soon into his clothing, and he and Van Pelt hurried to the stand, where they found Paul selling such papers as had come in for the morning trade.
"It's awful," said the small boy. "Such thieves ought to be placed behind the bars."
It was decided that Paul should run his route and then tend the stand, while Nelson and his partner went on a hunt down the Bowery and on the East Side for Darnley and Snocks.
"I can't say when we'll be back, Paul," said Van Pelt. "But until we return you must do the best you can." And this the little lad promised.
Our hero knew that Darnley and Snocks lived not far from each other on a street running toward the East River, and thither he led the way.
"Seen anything of Len Snocks?" he asked of a newsboy he met in the vicinity.
"Yes, I did," answered the boy. "Saw him early this morning."
"Where?"
"Down by the ferry to Brooklyn."
"Was he alone?"
"No; he had Billy Darnley with him."
"Were they carrying anything?"
"Yes, each had a couple of heavy bundles, about all he could manage."
"Did you see them get on the ferry?" questioned George Van Pelt.
"Saw 'em go into the ferryhouse. They must have gone over," answered the newsboy.
A few words more followed, and Nelson and Van Pelt hurried to the ferry and soon found themselves on Fulton Street, one of the main thoroughfares of Brooklyn.
"Now to find them," said our hero. "I'm afraid it's going to prove a big job."
"How shall we strike out?" asked George Van Pelt, as he and our hero came to a halt under the elevated railroad.
"It's more than likely they'll try to sell those things to some stationer or at a second-hand store," answered Nelson. "And the chances are that they'll sell 'em as quick as possible."
"You are right there," answered his partner. "Supposing you take one side of the street and I'll take the other, and we'll ask at the different stores."
This was agreed upon, and soon our hero had visited five stores.
Nobody had seen the thieves or knew anything about them.
"It's no use," he thought, and then entered a sixth establishment, kept by an old man.
"Yes, I saw them," said the old man. "They were here early this morning, and wanted to sell me the things dog-cheap. But I was suspicious of them, so I didn't buy."
"Do you know where they went next?"
"One of them said something about taking the elevated train."
"You didn't watch them?"
"No; I was going to, but a customer took my time."
The old man described both Darnley and Snocks, and also some of the goods offered, so there could not possibly be any mistake.
"I hate thieves," he concluded. "I hope you catch them."
"If we need a witness, will you aid us?" asked Nelson.
"I will."
"Thank you," said Nelson, and left him one of the business cards he and Van Pelt had had printed.
On the corner he beckoned to his partner and told Van Pelt of what he had learned.
"We'll ask the elevated railroad gate-keeper below," said Van Pelt.
But at the station they got no satisfaction.
"I came on an hour ago," said the gate-keeper. "The other man has gone home."
"And you haven't seen 'em?" asked Nelson.
"No. The fact is, so many people come and go we hardly notice anybody."
"That is so," said George Van Pelt, as he and our hero walked away. "Nelson, I am afraid we are stumped."
"It looks like it," said the newsboy soberly.
"What shall we do next?"
"I hardly know, George. I hate to give up. The stuff we lost cost too much money."
"Do you suppose either Darnley or Snocks went home?"
"It's possible."
"We ought to visit their homes and make sure."
The matter was talked over for several minutes, and it was finally agreed that Nelson should visit the homes of the two boys while George Van Pelt returned to the news stand to relieve Paul.
Billy Darnley lived on the fourth floor of a large rear tenement on one of the dirtiest streets of the East Side. To get to the place our hero had to pass through an alleyway filled with rubbish and teeming with neglected children. Hardened as he was to the rougher side of city life he could not help but shudder at the sight.
"Poor things! they are a heap worse off than myself," was his thought.
At a corner of the alleyway he ran across a small girl and one several years older. The little girl was a cripple, and the larger girl was making fun of her deformity.
"Limpy leg! Limpy leg!" she cried shrilly. "Limpy leg, aint you ugly!" At this the cripple began to cry.
"Stop that!" called out Nelson. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. This little girl can't help being a cripple. Perhaps some day you'll be a cripple yourself, and then you won't want anybody to make fun of you." And at this the big girl fell back abashed.
"She always does that," said the cripple. "She's awful mean."
Nelson asked the girl where Billy Darnley lived, and the girl pointed out the rooms. Soon the newsboy was knocking on one of the doors to the apartment.
"Come in," said a rough voice, and Nelson entered, to find himself confronted by a burly man slightly the worse for the rum he had been drinking.
"Is this where Billy Darnley lives?" he asked.
"I'm Billy Darnley," answered the man.
"I mean Billy Darnley, the newsboy."
"That's my son. He lives here, but he aint here now. He's out selling papers."
"Has he been home in the last two or three hours?"
"No."
There was an awkward pause, and the man eyed Nelson curiously.
"What do you want of Billy?" he questioned at last.
"I want to recover some things he stole from my news stand," answered our hero stoutly.
"Things he stole?" cried Darnley senior.
"Yes."
"Are you sure Billy stole them?"
"Yes—he and another boy named Len Snocks."
"When was this?"
"Last night."
"Humph! Tell me all about it."
Nelson did as requested. Before he had finished Darnley senior gave a long yawn.
"Hang that boy!" he observed. "He's going from bad to worse. He will end up on the gallows if he aint careful."
To console himself he got out a black bottle and took a deep drink. Evidently he was not deeply impressed.
"Have you any idea where Billy is now?" asked our hero.
"No. He'll keep shady, I suppose. I can't help you. Go to the police. If he gets hung some day it will be his own fault."
The man turned his back on Nelson as if to end the interview. In a minute more our hero was in the street again.
"A fine father for any boy to have," was his thought. "I reckon one is about as bad as the other, and perhaps both will end up in the electric chair."
From the tenement where Billy Darnley lived Nelson made his way to where Len Snocks resided.
This home in the tenements was in strong contrast to that of the Darnleys. There were but three rooms, but each was as clean and bright as hard work could make them.
A small, trim-looking woman carrying a baby in her arms answered his knock. This proved to be Mrs. Snocks. In the rooms were several other children of various ages.
"No, I haven't seen Len since last night," she said, in reply to our hero's question. "He went off with another boy named Billy Darnley."
"Did he say where he was going or when he would be back?"
"He did not. I am anxious about him, too. He never stayed away all night before. What do you want of him?"
"He and Billy Darnley robbed my news stand last night."
"Robbed your stand!" Mrs. Snocks grew very pale. "Can this be true?"
"Yes, ma'am, it is." And Nelson gave the particulars once more.
"Too bad!" cried the woman, and, dropping on a kitchen chair, she covered her face with her apron.
Nelson saw that she was suffering keenly, and felt sorry for her.
"It's that Darnley boy," she said presently. "He is a bad egg and is leading our Len astray. My husband and I have warned Len time and time again to let Billy alone; but he won't mind, and Billy leads him into all kinds of mischief."
"Well, I'm sorry for you, ma'am, but we have got to have our stuff back."
"How much was it worth?"
"About seventy-five dollars."
"Oh, dear! I'm sure I don't know what to do."
"Is your husband to work?"
"No; he hasn't had any work for several months. Wait; I'll call him."
Mrs. Snocks went to a rear window and called to somebody in the courtyard below. Soon Mr. Snocks appeared. He was an iron molder, but looked far from healthy.
"Stole from your stand," he said, after listening to his wife and Nelson. "This is the worst yet."
"It's Billy Darnley's fault," put in the wife.
"He hasn't any business to go with Billy, Mary. That rascal will lead him to prison."
"You're right there," said our hero.
"I don't know what to do," went on Mr. Snocks, to Nelson. "I'd square this up, only I'm out of work, and haven't more than two or three dollars to my name."
"We have three dollars and twenty-five cents," said the wife. "You can have that." And she brought out a well-worn pocketbook.
Her manner touched the newsboy to the heart.
"No, I won't take your last cent," he said. "You'll need it for yourself and the children. Only if you see Len, try to get back the goods or the money he got for them."
"We'll do that—don't fear," said Mr. Snocks. "And I'll thrash him everlastingly in the bargain."
No more could be accomplished at the Snockses' home, and soon Nelson was on his way back to the stand.
"What luck?" questioned George Van Pelt, as soon as he appeared.
"Not much," he answered, and told his story. "We'll never hear from old Darnley," he added. "But perhaps we'll get something from the Snockses."
"I'm glad you didn't take that woman's last dollar," said Van Pelt. "We're not as hard up as all that, even if we have been almost cleaned out."
Fortunately for the partners they had paid all bills promptly since taking charge of the stand, so their credit was good. On the following morning Van Pelt went around and explained the situation to several wholesale dealers, and also to the news company, and succeeded in getting a fresh supply of goods on thirty and sixty days' time.
"We've got to hustle to make it up," he said.
"Well, I'm in the business to hustle," answered Nelson, with a grim smile. "I never yet was idle, as far back as I can remember."
"Always sold newspapers?"
"Mostly. Once in a while I blacked boots and carried baggage, but not very often."
"Are you related to Sam Pepper?"
"I don't think I am."
"Hasn't he ever told you anything about yourself?"
"He has and again he hasn't. He told me some things that I don't believe are true, George."
"Humph! Well, I wouldn't trust him too much."
"I don't trust him at all, since the time he tried to help Mr. Bulson against Miss Gertrude."
"It's queer that Bulson is so possessed to marry Miss Horton, when she doesn't care for him."
"I guess the reason is that Bulson is afraid Mr. Horton will relent and take Miss Gertrude back, and then she'll come in for half the money, after all. He is so piggish that he wants to get it all."
"Mr. Horton ought to be told how Bulson is acting."
"Miss Gertrude says he is a strange man and won't believe what anybody says about his nephew."
"He must be strange, or he wouldn't turn such a nice young lady as Miss Horton out of doors," said Van Pelt feelingly. He had met Gertrude several times and was much interested in her.
On the week following Mrs. Kennedy was served with a notice to quit her apartments, as the tenement was to be torn down. She and Gertrude hunted up other rooms, not far from Nelson's stand. These were bright and cheerful and a very great improvement over those vacated.
"And I will feel safer," said Gertrude. "For I fancy Homer Bulson knew the other home and often watched me going in and coming out."
Gertrude was right in her surmise. Homer Bulson was watching her very closely and laying his plans to make her his own, in spite of herself.
But when everything was in readiness to make a move, he found to his chagrin that the rooms were empty and the building was being torn down.
"Hang the luck, anyhow!" he muttered sulkily. "Now where in the world shall I look for her?"
He questioned several people in the neighborhood, but nobody seemed to be able to give him any information.
The truth of the matter was Mrs. Kennedy had requested her friends to say nothing to a gentleman in a silk hat who asked about Gertrude, and for this reason they were accordingly mum.
"Never mind, I'll find her sooner or later," Bulson told himself. "And then my next move will surely surprise her."