"I'm around here most all day, boss, an' t'ank yer fer sayin' you'll look out fer me."
The shoes were now blacked, and Mickety arose to his feet. Ralph brought out a quarter and handed it over.
"Keep it all, Mickety," he said. "I am sorry I can't spare more just now."
"Gee! A quarter! Yer a liberal gent, so yer are! T'ank yer, sir!"
"You are quite welcome," returned Ralph, and he walked off.
He was destined to meet the bootblack again, and under circumstances full of the gravest peril.
After leaving the bootblack Ralph hardly knew what to do with himself. It was barely three o'clock, and he fancied it still too early to visit Horace Kelsey's office again.
He concluded to walk around and see the sights, and accordingly strolled up Broadway past the City Hall Park, and continued on up until Fourteenth street was reached.
This great thoroughfare, with its immense stores, interested him greatly. He spent fully half an hour in looking into the show-windows.
"What a lot of money must be invested in business here," he thought. "How I would like to be a merchant on such a scale. A person who had never been here would not imagine it was so grand!"
When a neighboring clock showed the hour of four the boy thought it time to return to the insurance agent's office. He was soon on his way downtown.
At the entrance to the office, a policeman tapped him on the shoulder. It was the one he had met earlier in the day.
"Hallo, young fellow," he said. "Did you get your money back?"
"Yes, I got my money, and a trifle more," returned Ralph. "Did you catch the man?"
"No, the rascal gave me the slip. So you got more than your money, eh?"
"I got five dollars more. But he has my pocketknife and a silver temperance badge. He can have his money when he gives me my things back."
"I reckon you'll have to call it square," laughed the policeman. "He was a slick one."
"He was, sir."
"You are a stranger in the city, I take it," went on the policeman, with a glance at Ralph's country clothes.
"Yes."
"You want to have your eyes open in the future, or you'll be robbed again before long.
"If you sleep in a room with others, pin your money fast inside of your shirt. Then they can't get it without waking you up."
"Thank you, I'll remember that."
"I shall watch out for that sharper, and nab him the first chance I get."
"That's right; he ought to be arrested."
"The trouble will be that there will be no one to make a complaint," went on the policeman.
"I'll make a complaint if I am still in the city," said Ralph.
"But where will I find you?"
"Ask for me at Mr. Kelsey's office in this building."
"Oh! All right," said the guardian of the peace, and then he and the boy separated.
In a minute more Ralph was back in the offices upstairs.
"Sorry, but Mr. Kelsey has not returned," said the clerk. "Better come in to-morrow about ten o'clock."
"Thank you, I will," replied Ralph.
He went downstairs much disappointed.
"I'll have to find some sort of a sleeping-place for to-night," he thought. "And it must be a cheap one, for if Mr. Kelsey doesn't come back in a day or two I will have to go home without seeing him, and I want to save the carfare to do it. No more riding in empty freight cars for me!" and he laughed to himself, as he remembered his experience in that line.
Ralph had often heard of the Battery, as the lower end of the city is called, and he determined to pay it a brief visit before nightfall should set in.
From a passer-by he learned that Broadway ran directly down there, and on he walked against the great tide of humanity which was now setting in toward up-town.
It was not long before he reached the little park back of Castle Garden and the emigrant offices, and here he sat down on a bench to take a look at the bay, and also at the various types of people that were moving about in all directions.
It was dark when Ralph moved off. During his stay he had heard two young men speak of the Bowery, and the many odd sights to be seen there, especially during the evening.
"I have nothing to do between now and bedtime," hethought. "I'll take a stroll up the Bowery, and take in all that is to be seen. In such a place as New York it will be easy enough to find a cheap hotel when I want to retire."
So leaving the Battery, he traveled up to Park Row, and continued along until the Bowery was reached.
The Bowery, even at this early hour in the evening, was alive with people. Many of the men and women were of very questionable character, but Ralph did not know this. He walked along, staring at everything to be seen.
Presently he came to a clothing establishment, in front of which were hung a number of suits marked at very low figures. He stopped to examine them, and hardly had he done so when an outside salesman, or "puller-in," as he is called, approached him.
"Nice suits, eh?" he said, pleasantly, as he placed his hand on Ralph's arm.
"They look so," returned the boy.
"Come in and try one on."
"No, thank you; not to-night."
"Won't cost you anything; come on," persisted the fellow.
"I don't care to buy to-night."
"That's all right; just try 'em on, and see how nice they look on you."
"Thank you, but I won't bother you," and Ralph attempted to walk away.
The "puller-in" was not going to lose him thus easily,however. Trade had been bad with him for the day, and he felt he must sell something or his position with the owner of the establishment would be at stake.
"It's no trouble to show goods, my dear sir; walk right in," he said, and, instead of letting Ralph go, pushed him toward the open store doors.
"But I don't want to buy," insisted Ralph, who began to fancy he was not being treated just right.
"Didn't ask you to buy, my dear sir. Isaac just show this young gentleman some of those beautiful all-wool suits for nine and ten dollars."
A greasy old Jew at once came forward, rubbing his hands.
"Chust sthep back here," he said, smiling broadly. "I vill show you der greatest pargains in New York."
"But I don't care to bu——" began Ralph again, but the Jew cut him short.
"Ve got dese suits at a great pargain," he said. "Da vos made originally to sell at twenty dollars. So efery von vot buys von of dem suits saves ten or elefen dollars on der burchase brice."
He hurried Ralph back to the rear of the store, and in a trice had at hand half a dozen suits, more or less faded, and of exceedingly doubtful material.
"Chust try on der coat and vest," he said. "Here, Rachel, hold der young gentleman's coat an' vest till I fit him to perfection," he went on to his wife, who had come up.
"Oh, Isaac, it vos a shame to sold dem peautiful allvool suits for twelfe dollars!" she cried, in assumed dismay.
"I vos sold dem for nine and ten dollars," returned Isaac.
"Vot, you reduced dem again?" she cried, in well-assumed horror.
"Yah, I vos got to haf der monish."
"It vos der greatest pargain sale in der vorld!" cried the woman. "You ought to buy two suits vile it lasts," she went on to Ralph.
In the meantime her husband was trying to make Ralph take off his coat and vest. He at length succeeded, and in a trice had part of one of the store suits on his back.
"Ach! vot an elegant fit!" he cried, in deep admiration. "Chust like it vos made to order!"
"Peautiful! peautiful!" joined in his wife.
"Vill you try on der bants?" asked the Jew.
"No," returned Ralph, decidedly.
"You had better. Da might not fit chust so vell as der coat."
"But I do not want to buy," cried Ralph, desperately.
"Vat?" screamed the old Jew. "And dot suit fits so elegantly!"
"Of course he takes dot suit," put in his wife. "Vot more you vonts, hey?"
"I didn't want to buy from the start," returned Ralph. "Give me my coat and vest."
And taking off the store coat and vest, he flung them on a counter.
"You dinks I vos a fool!" shrieked the old Jew. "Vot you try dem clothes on for, hey? Dot suit chust fits you—it's chust vot you vonts. I wraps dem up and you bays for dem and say noddings more! I vos here to sell goots—not to be fooled mit!"
Had Ralph been more familiar with the ways of the city, and particularly with the ways of such merchants as the one with whom he now had to deal, he would have known that the Jew's anger was only put on in order to intimidate him into purchasing a suit he did not want.
The Bowery is full of such shops as I have described, and despite the many protests that have been made, "pullers-in" and their associates continue to flourish. In more than three-quarters of the cases where passers-by are enticed into stores they are forced into buying, no matter how hard they protest against the outrage.
But although he was ignorant of the real facts of the matter, one thing was clear to Ralph. He did not want to buy, and he was not going to be forced into doing so.
"I did not come in to fool," he said, stoutly. "Your man outside insisted that I should come in and try on the things, although I told him I did not wish to buy."
"Dot's all right—I wrap der suit up and you bay for dem."
"Not much!" and Ralph's temper began to rise. "Give me my coat and vest!"
He made a dash for the articles, but before he could secure them the Jew's wife had whisked them out of his reach.
"You can't vos fool Isaac," she screamed. "You bay for der suit, and den you gits dem pack—not before."
"I'll have them back now!" exclaimed Ralph, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Give them to me!"
The woman ran behind the counter, but he made after her. He caught hold of the coat and vest, and despite her resistance, twisted them from her grasp. In a second he had them on once more.
"Hellup! hellup!" screamed the woman.
"Don't you touch mine wife!" howled the old Jew.
"Samuel, come in here and hellup your fadder and mudder!"
The "puller-in" had been watching proceedings from outside of the store, and now he came running in. He was a big, muscular fellow, and not above acting roughly when the occasion demanded.
"See here, what do you mean by striking my mother?" he cried out, boldly. "Do you want to get yourself locked up?"
Instead of replying to this speech, Ralph backed toward the rear of the clothing establishment. He had no desire to enter into a fight on the premises. Now he had his clothing, he wished to get out as quickly as possible.
"Sthop! sthop!" screamed the old Jew. "Vere vos you going?"
Still Ralph returned no reply. The way to the front was blocked. But a rear door, leading to a small yard, was open, and toward this he ran.
"He's goin' out of der pack!" cried the woman. "Sthop him, Isaac!"
"Run, Samuel!" shrieked Isaac, and the son darted forward, but too late to stop Ralph in making his exit.
Ralph found the yard both small and exceedingly dirty. Beyond was another yard, and, looking over the fence, the boy saw an open hallway leading to a street.
Without hesitation, for Samuel was close at his heels, Ralph vaulted over the fence. Before the young Jew could follow, he was inside of the hallway. A minute later he was in the next street, and running through the crowd toward the end of the block. He did not cease his rapid pace until the neighborhood was left a good distance behind.
"Well, that's the most trying experience I've had yet," he murmured to himself, as he at last dropped into a slow walk to catch his breath. "Those people are not thieves, but they are next door to it."
Ralph was so disgusted with the Bowery—which, in reality, has many nice places of business in it—that he left the street at the next corner.
At nine o'clock he found himself in the vicinity of the Brooklyn Bridge. Here he came across a cheap but neat-looking hotel. He entered and engaged a room for himself alone on the top floor for fifty cents, and soon after retired and slept soundly until morning.
The boy was on the streets again long before the time appointed for his next call at Horace Kelsey's offices. Having nothing to do, he mounted to the bridge, and took a walk across to Brooklyn and return. This gave him a splendid view of both cities, and afforded him a means of enjoyment until it was time to make the call.
He had brushed himself up to the last degree, and invested in another shine for his shoes, and a clean collar and tie, so now, even if his clothing was rather worn and torn in one or two places, he nevertheless looked quite respectable.
"He is in," said the clerk, when Ralph entered the offices, and the next moment Horace Kelsey came forward and shook him by the hand.
"This is an unexpected pleasure," said the insurance agent. "Step into my private office," and he led the way, showed Ralph to a seat, and closed the door. "My clerk told me of your calling yesterday."
"This is a totally unexpected trip, Mr. Kelsey," returned Ralph, by way of apologizing for his appearance. "When I started, I had no idea I would end up in New York."
"Indeed!" and the gentleman looked his curiosity.
"I've got rather a long story to tell," went on Ralph.
"Yes? Then let me hear it at once. I will be at leisure for the next hour."
It was rather awkward for Ralph to start, but it was not long before he was deep in the recital of his adventures and the great wrong that had been done to him. Horace Kelsey listened with scarcely a word of comment until he finished.
"Well, Ralph, if I did not know you to be an honest boy, I would not believe it," he exclaimed, at last.
"I can hardly believe it myself, Mr. Kelsey. Why did those two men attack me?"
"It is a great mystery. Had you not met them afterthe fall over the bluff I would be inclined to say that that fall must have been accidental. But, as it is, it was premeditated, beyond a doubt. And you are certain that you never met the men before?"
"I am."
"They could not have been the ones that robbed the post office, and got angry because you put the authorities on their track?"
"No sir; I don't believe they had anything to do with that affair."
"It couldn't be that Percy Paget set them up to it?"
"I don't believe he would go as far as that—not when our quarrel was no worse than it was."
"I believe you there. Yet there must be some reason," insisted Horace Kelsey. "Men do not attempt to take life for the mere fun of it."
"I believe you there, sir."
"The thing is—what could they profit by if you were out of the way?"
"I don't know."
"Could they claim that property, the papers of which are missing?"
"No sir; the property belongs to my mother—at least I think it does."
"Your father might have willed it to you."
"In that case my mother would have told me of it."
"You should have gone back to Westville at once and made a search. Your mother will be worried over your absence."
"I have already written to her, telling her all. I don'tsee the use of going back just now. Those men have most likely skipped out."
"That is true."
"And now I had come to New York, I thought I would take a look around before I went back. I may not get the chance again. Besides, I only had a job on the lakes running the pleasure sloop, and I would like to strike something better if it's to be had."
"I see," Horace Kelsey smiled. "Well, I promised to do what I could, and I won't disappoint you. I will give you employment here in my office unless you can strike something better."
"Thank you. I would prefer to work for you."
"I need another clerk for a new line of work, and I fancy you would just suit. But you would have to remain in New York. How would your mother like that?"
"She would miss me, sir, but if the job paid I could send for her to come on, and rent the place in Westville."
"Then you can consider yourself engaged whenever you are ready to come to work. And, by the way," Horace Kelsey went on, hurriedly, as there came a knock on the door, "there is a gentleman I must see on business. Come in at one o'clock again, will you?"
"Yes, sir," replied Ralph, and not to detain the gentleman longer, he bowed himself out, well pleased over the sudden turn his fortunes had taken.
Could the boy have seen what was at that time occurring at Westville, he would not have been so contented, but would instead have taken the first train homeward.
Let us leave Ralph for a short time and go back to Westville and see what was occurring at that place during his absence. Of course, when the boy did not return in the evening from his trip up Big Silver Lake, Mrs. Nelson was much worried over his absence. She took supper alone, after waiting until eight o'clock for him to make his appearance, and then took a walk down to the bridge where her son was in the habit of tying up.
"Have you seen anything of Ralph?" she asked of Dan Pickley, who sat in the office, counting his tolls for the day.
"No," he returned, shortly, and went on with his counting.
Not wishing to disturb him, the widow said no more. She strained her eyes to see through the gathering darkness, but not a boat that could be the right one appeared in sight.
After waiting nearly an hour she returned to the cottage. She sat up until twelve o'clock, watching and waiting, and went to bed.
"If something had happened they would let me know," she said to herself. "He must have taken out some party and been detained. He will surely come back by to-morrow noon."
But the morrow came, and the morning passed slowly by without any one coming near the distressed woman.
After dinner she could bear the suspense no longer. Dressing up and putting on her bonnet, she started out to walk to Glen Arbor.
On the way she met one of the neighbors who was driving and offered her a seat in his wagon. She accepted the offer gladly, for she was not accustomed to walking a long distance.
"It ain't often you go to Glen Arbor, I reckon," said the neighbor, a farmer named Wilkins.
"No," she replied, "I am going to see what has become of Ralph."
"Ralph! What's the matter with him? Run away?"
"I hope not, Mr. Wilkins. But he did not return last night from a trip on the lake, and I am worried."
"Maybe he couldn't get back because he went too far and the wind died out."
"There was a good breeze all night."
"That's so, widow. Well, I hope you find Ralph all right."
"So do I," returned Mrs. Nelson.
She knew very well where Bill Franchard's boat-house was, and after leaving Mr. Wilkins, walked hither quickly. Luckily, she found Franchard on shore, mending one of his boats.
"Where is Ralph, Mr. Franchard?" she asked, hurriedly.
"That's just what I'd like to know, Mrs. Nelson," replied the boatman. "He ain't showed up since he went off yesterday morning."
"Did you expect him to stay out so long?"
"No, I didn't. I was looking for him in last evening."
"Who did he take out?"
"Two gentlemen, I believe. He made the engagement himself. I don't know who they were."
"Have you any idea where he can be?"
"They sailed up the lake, so Jack Harper says. Maybe they might be puttin' in the time around the islands. Sometimes these sportsmen don't care to come home at dark, but want the fun of camping out over night."
This last remark afforded Mrs. Nelson some relief. If the supposition was correct, Ralph might be perfectly safe.
"I hope he comes back soon," she said. "Would you mind if I stay around the boat-house for a while?"
"Why, no, Mrs. Nelson; make yourself at home," returned Franchard, heartily. "We ain't got very good accommodations here, but such as they are you are welcome to."
The widow sat down and watched the boatman mending his craft. Thus an hour passed. Then came a hail from the water.
"Ahoy there, Franchard!"
The boatman looked up and saw a young fellow in a rowboat.
"Hullo, Evans!" he called back.
"Say, one of your boats is ashore over to Mack's meadow," went on the youth in the rowboat.
"One of my boats! Which one?"
"TheMinnie. I saw her as I came past, and I thought I'd tell you about her. She isn't tied up there."
"My gracious! what can it mean?" cried Mrs. Nelson. "That was the boat Ralph had, wasn't it?"
"It was," returned Franchard. "Jump in this rowboat, Mrs. Nelson, and we'll go over to the meadow and take a look at the boat."
He ran for a pair of oars, and soon the two were on the water. Mack's meadow was less than half a mile away, and Franchard, who was an expert rower, soon pulled the boat to it.
"There is theMinnie, sure enough!" he exclaimed, as they rounded a little point.
And he pointed to where the sloop lay half-hidden in the water and high meadow grass.
"Is—is any one on board?" asked Mrs. Nelson, in a trembling tone.
"Not a soul."
"Oh, Mr. Franchard, what do you suppose has happened?" she burst out.
"I can't say, ma'am. Wait till I go on board and take a look around."
Franchard was soon on the sloop. Everything appeared to be in order, although there were the marks of muddy feet on the flooring and on the seats. Martin and Toglet had taken good care that no clew that should lead to their identity should be left behind.
"Do you see anything belonging to Ralph?" asked Mrs. Nelson.
"Not a thing."
"Do you suppose he left the boat here?"
The boatman shook his head slowly.
"I wish I could say yes, Mrs. Nelson," he said. "But I don't think so. It's all wet around here, and there would be no sense in it when there are so many dry landing places nearby. Most likely he landed somewhere else and the boat drifted away from him."
The widow gave a start.
"Oh, might they not have landed on one of the islands and the sloop got away from them?" she cried.
"By creation! that may be it!" ejaculated Bill Franchard. "I never thought of it before."
"I wish we could find out. I'm greatly worried. Something tells me that Ralph is not safe—that something has happened to him."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mrs. Nelson. I'll take theArieland sail up to the islands and take a look around."
"Will you go this afternoon?"
"If you wish it, yes."
"I do, very much."
"Then I won't waste another minute. Maybe you would like to go along?"
"I would," returned Mrs. Nelson, impelled by a fear she could not banish.
Franchard lost no time in towing the sloop back to the boat-house. Ten minutes later he and the widow were sailing up the lake as fast as the wind would carry them.
It was well on toward evening when the islands were reached.
"I'll give them a call if they are anywhere about," said Franchard, and he yelled many times at the top of his lungs.
No reply came back, and after sailing around for some time they came to anchor beside Three Top Island.
"If they landed anywhere, they landed here," said the boatman. "So as long as we are in the vicinity we may as well take a look around."
As luck would have it they had reached shore close to the bottom of the cliff. As they leaped on the rocks, Mrs. Nelson gave a start.
"What is it?" cried her companion, quickly.
"Oh, Mr. Franchard, look!" screamed the poor woman. "It is Ralph's fishing towel, and it has blood upon it!"
And as she spoke, she held up the object.
"You are sure it is his?"
"I am positive. Oh, I am sure something dreadful has happened."
"Perhaps not, Mrs. Nelson. Let us hope for the best, and search further."
Mrs. Nelson heaved a long sigh. Her heart was heavy within her breast.
The two searched around until nightfall, but nothing more was found.
At last they returned to Glen Arbor, and after another inquiry there for Ralph, the poor widow made her way back slowly to her home.
She was all but prostrated, and all that night paced the rooms, watching and waiting in vain for her son's return.
The news of Ralph's disappearance spread, and several parties went out to hunt for him. Strange to say, one of the parties contained Squire Paget.
The squire went up to the islands in a private boat of his own. He remained there probably half an hour. Then he returned and called at the Nelson cottage.
"It is too bad, Mrs. Nelson," he said. "But I have, I am afraid, very bad news for you."
As the reader well knows, there was no love lost between Squire Paget and the Nelsons. The squire had not treated Ralph and his mother fairly, and they were inclined to look upon him with considerable distrust.
Yet when the squire entered the cottage with the announcement that he had bad news to convey, the widow forgot all the past and began to question him eagerly.
"You have bad news?" she faltered.
"I am sorry to say I have," he returned, in a hypocritical tone of sympathy.
"And what is it?" she went on, her breast heaving violently.
"Pray, calm yourself, madam."
"I cannot wait, squire. You have news of Ralph! The poor boy has been—has been——"
She could get no further.
"His body has not yet been found, Mrs. Nelson."
"Then he is dead!" she shrieked, and fell forward in a swoon.
Fortunately a neighbor arrived just at this moment, and this good woman, aided by the squire, soon revived the widow. At the end of ten minutes she sat up in a chair, her face as white as a sheet.
"Tell me—tell me all," she gasped out.
"There is not much to tell, unfortunately," returned the squire, smoothly. "I was up to the islands in company with others, and I found strong evidence that made me believe that Ralph fell over the cliff."
"Then he was killed!" burst out the neighbor.
"Most likely, Mrs. Corcoran. The cliff is more than a hundred feet high, and the rocks below are sharp."
"But his body—what of that?" asked Mrs. Corcoran, for Mrs. Nelson was unable to utter a word.
"His body must have been carried off by the current which sweeps around the island, especially during such a breeze as we had recently."
"It must be true," cried Mrs. Nelson, bursting into tears. "I found his fishing towel, and that was covered with blood. Oh, my poor Ralph!"
She went off into a fit of weeping, and in that state Squire Paget left her to the attention of Mrs. Corcoran. He had expected to go into the details of his search, but, evidently, they were not now needed.
"I guess my plan will work all right," he said to himself, as he walked home rapidly. "It's a pity I must hurry matters so, but unless I do that valuable piece of property may slip through my fingers."
Not for one moment did the squire's conscience trouble him for what he had done. He thought only of the end to be gained—of the money he intended to make.
Of course, he imagined that Ralph was really dead. He would have been furious had he known the real truth.
But an awakening was close at hand. It came on the following day, when the squire was at the post office.
He was standing in a corner looking over the various letters he had received when he heard Henry Bott, the clerk, address a few words to a laboring man who had come in to post a letter.
"Kind of mysterious about Ralph Nelson?" remarked the man, whose name was Fielder.
"It is," returned Bott.
"Any news of him yet?"
"None, excepting that he fell over the cliff on Three Top Island and his body was washed away."
"The widow must feel bad about it."
"Sure."
"I was going to stop at the cottage, but I must get over to Eastport."
"There's a letter just came in for Mrs. Nelson from New York," went on Bott. "I suppose I might send it to her. It might have some sort of news she might want to hear."
At these words the squire became more attentive than ever. Who knew but what the letter might refer to the missing papers that the widow had advertised for?
"Did you say you had a letter for Mrs. Nelson?" he asked, stepping to the window.
"Yes."
"I am going down to the place. I'll take it to her if you wish."
"All right, squire; here it is," returned Bott, and handed over the epistle.
Squire Paget at once hurried from the building, and in the direction of the Nelson cottage. But once beyond the village proper he turned into a by-path.
Here he stopped to examine the letter. It was not sealed very tightly, and by breathing upon the mucilage in the back he soon managed to get it open without tearing the envelope.
It was Ralph's letter to his mother, and for the moment Squire Paget was so stunned that he was in danger of collapsing then and there. He staggered to a stone and fell upon it.
"Alive!" he muttered to himself. "Alive! and the rascals said he was dead!"
He read the letter carefully, not once, but several times. He saw how Martin and Toglet had failed twice in their efforts to take Ralph from his path forever.
"The scamps! They knew he was alive when he boarded the empty freight car! Why did they not come back and tell me! I suppose they expect to get that five hundred dollars out of me at Chambersburgh! Just wait till I see them!"
Squire Paget did not know what to do with the letter. If he destroyed it, might not the widow hear of his having a letter for her and ask him for it?
And yet if he gave her the letter, that would be the end of the plot against her—the whole cake would be dough.
Already a new plan to get Ralph out of the way was forming in his mind, based on the fact that Martin and Toglet had really tried to do as agreed. Perhaps they would make another trial, if urged on.
"I'll fix this letter business," he said.
Among his own mail had been a circular from a New York dry-goods house, calling attention to a big midsummer bargain sale, and soliciting orders from out-of-town patrons. This circular the squire now thrust into the envelope which had contained Ralph's letter. To make the deception more complete, the squire drew out his stylographic pen and went over the address, altering the handwriting quite a little, so that it might not be recognized.
Then, stowing away the genuine letter among his own, he walked on to the Nelson cottage, where he left the bogus letter with Mrs. Corcoran, who came to the door.
"I thought I would bring it along, as it might have news," he said.
Mrs. Nelson was handed the letter. She gave it a hasty examination, and finding, to her great disappointment, that it was merely an advertisement, she threw it aside; and thus her son's communication, upon which so much depended, never reached her.
The squire found out that nothing could be done to further his plan just then, so far as the widow was concerned. So leaving the cottage, he took the evening boat for Chambersburgh.
He knew exactly where to look for Martin and Toglet, who had come down from an upper lake town by railroad. It was in a fashionable club-house, with a saloon attached, at which many of the sports of the city congregated.
He saw Martin sitting at a table playing some game of chance, and at once motioned him to come out.
"What is it?" asked Martin, but his face showed that he was much disturbed.
"You know well enough," returned the squire, sharply. "Ralph Nelson is alive and well!"
"Never!" cried Martin, in some surprise.
"It is so, and you know it," went on the squire, coldly.
"Why, he went over the cliff——"
"And escaped."
"Escaped!"
"Yes, and you know he did, for you met after that in the woods."
"It is false!"
"No it isn't, Mr. Martin. He was too smart for you, and he got away."
"Is he in Westville?" questioned Martin, anxiously.
"No; he is in New York."
"When is he coming home?"
"Never, if I can prevent it," returned Squire Paget, earnestly. "He wrote to his mother, but I got the letter. She does not even know he is alive."
"And he is in New York?" said Martin, looking suggestively at the squire.
"He is, Martin."
"I might go down there——"
"That is what I thought."
"I can go alone. Toglet is too chicken-hearted for this business. I know he wishes he was out of it. If he hadn't been in it from the start there would have been no failure."
"Then go alone, but lose no time, for he may writemore letters, and one of them may slip through my hands. Now he has disappeared, I do not wish him to be heard of again."
"But he has a friend in New York."
"I don't care for that. I do not wish his mother to hear from him, that is the whole point."
"All right, squire. Give me time to get to the city and she'll never hear of her boy again. There will be no failure this time."
The two talked the matter over for half an hour longer, and arranged all of their plans. Then Martin took the first train for the metropolis, and Squire Paget the last boat for Westville.
At the appointed time, Ralph called again upon Horace Kelsey, and was given instructions in regard to the work he would be called on to do.
"But you had better not start in until you hear from your mother," said the insurance agent. "She may wish you to pay a visit home before you settle down here."
Ralph thought this good advice, and he resolved to act upon it.
"I ought to get a letter by to-morrow noon or night," he said. "And I will wait that long. If I don't get word, I'll take the trip home anyway, seeing as you say you will be kind enough to wait for me."
Kelsey then asked him what he intended to do while waiting, and learning Ralph had nothing in particular in view, he advised the boy to get a guide-book of the city and walk about, so that he might become familiar with the streets.
"The work I have for you will take you out more or less," he said. "And it is a great help if you understand how to get around."
At a nearby bookseller's Ralph purchased a guide-book for twenty-five cents. He studied it off and on the entire afternoon, walking around in the meantime. Before heretired that night at the hotel, he had taken in the city from Fourteenth street down to the Battery.
"It's awful big and crooked," he thought. "But I guess I'll manage to get around, especially if I keep the guide-book on hand for reference."
His first duty in the morning, even before he had breakfast, was to go to the post office. Of course, he found no letter there for him. He inquired at the information office about the Westville mail, and ascertained that the next pouch from that place would be ready for delivery about three o'clock in the afternoon.
"I'll wait for that," he thought. "And then, if there is no word, I'll take the first train home."
To tell the truth, Ralph was growing anxious. The more he thought over the matter, the more he became convinced that he had done wrong in not returning home at once. He was willing to admit that the sight of the great metropolis had proven too much for his better judgment.
When Ralph left the post office building he did not know that he was being followed, yet such was a fact. Martin, who had got into the city but a short while before, had been watching for him, knowing that he would most likely call for mail. The man slunk out of sight when Ralph appeared, and when he went out, dogged him through the crowd like a shadow.
Ralph returned from the post office across Park Row, and from there made his way toward the East Side, as the great tenement district of New York is termed. He had not been through this section very much, and thought to make a tour along the East River.
Martin followed him for a distance of eight or ten blocks. Just as Ralph was about to go past a coal yard he tapped the boy on the shoulder.
Ralph turned quickly, and was almost dumbfounded to see who it was that had accosted him.
"What, you!" he exclaimed.
"Then I am really right!" cried Martin, reaching forth and grasping his hand. "Thank heaven that you are safe!"
"Why, I don't understand," stammered Ralph.
He could not comprehend the other's manner.
"I was afraid you had been killed on the cars," went on Martin. "I am very glad to see that you escaped."
"Indeed! I thought you wished me dead," said Ralph, coldly.
"Dead! No, indeed, my young friend!"
"But you pushed me over the cliff on the island."
"That was accidental, I assure you."
"Perhaps our meeting in the woods was accidental, too," and the boy could not help sneering.
"It was all because I took charge of my poor friend Toglet," said Martin, with an anxious look in his face. "That poor, poor fellow has caused me no end of trouble."
"How?"
"Well, I presume I will have to make a clean breast of it. Toglet is more or less insane. His folks do not care to place him in an asylum, and so I offered to take care of him for a while. It was his sudden fit of insanity that caused all of the trouble."
"What made you point your gun at me in the woods?" asked Ralph, who could not help but doubt Martin's story.
"I wanted you to stop so that I might have a chance to explain. I was afraid you would return home and have us arrested."
"After you pushed me over the cliff why didn't you try to find out whether I was dead or alive?"
"Please don't say I pushed you over. It was Toglet, and directly after you disappeared he turned on me and I had all I could do to keep him at bay."
"You don't look as if you had a very tough time with him," remarked Ralph, bluntly.
"Luckily, I am a strong man, and I soon overpowered him. But he then got a strange fit, and I knew I must get him to a doctor at once. So I took the boat and left the island. If I had thought that you were still alive you may rest assured I would not have left you behind."
Ralph hardly knew what to say. He did not believe that Martin was telling the truth, plausible as the villain tried to make his story appear.
"You took him to a doctor's?" he asked.
"I did. Then he got away and disappeared in the woods. I had just found him when I saw you. That is the whole story. Why, my young friend, what reason would I have for pushing you over the cliff?"
"I don't know," returned Ralph. "That is something I have been trying to find out."
"I had none in the world. I never saw nor heard ofyou previous to hiring your boat, and I might have hired anybody in Glen Arbor for that matter."
"How is it you are in New York now?" questioned Ralph, suddenly.
"I brought Toglet home to his folks."
"Does he belong here?"
"Yes. He lives but a few blocks from here. I will tell you what we had better do. We had better go to his home, and you can interview his folks and make sure that I have told you the truth about him. Perhaps he will even confess, if he is in a proper state of mind to do so."
Ralph hesitated. Martin spoke with so much apparent candor that he was half inclined to believe the man's story concerning Toglet's mental condition. Besides, as Martin had said, what reason could there have been for such an attack if it was not that of a madman?
"Come on, if only to please me," urged Martin. "You will find Toglet's mother a very nice old lady, and you will certainly believe her, even if you will not believe me."
"You say it is but a few blocks?"
"Not more than four. Come, I will show you the way."
Martin linked his arm in that of Ralph, and together they proceeded down the street.
Presently they came in sight of a large tenement house, although Ralph, being a country boy, did not recognize it as such.
"Here we are," said Martin. "Mrs. Toglet lives on the upper floor."
He led the way into the hallway and up the somewhat narrow and dirty stairs.
They passed up two flights, and then reached a floor which was not occupied. Martin threw a quick glance around and entered an empty room, the door of which stood open.
"They are getting ready to move up-town," he said. "This neighborhood is no longer nice enough for them."
Ralph followed him into the room. Hardly had he done so, when Martin slammed the door shut and sprang upon him.
Ralph was taken so off his guard that he went flat on his back. His head struck a block of wood that lay near, and for the moment he was dazed. Before he could recover, Martin had his hands bound with a strap he took from his pocket.
"Make a sound and I'll choke you!" he cried, in a warning tone.
Then he struggled to fix a gag in Ralph's mouth. A fierce fight ensued, but finally the rascal was successful. Then he bound Ralph's legs.
The poor boy was a prisoner at last!
"That was easier done than I anticipated," muttered Martin, grimly, as he gazed down at his young prisoner. "Now what is best to do? It's good I remembered these rooms were empty."
He walked about the bare apartment and then paused to listen.
All was silent save for the rattle of the wagons and the shrill cries of the playing children in the street below.
"Humph! I thought I heard a footstep," he went on. "I must be getting nervous."
He left the apartment, and was gone several minutes. When he came back he raised Ralph in his strong arms as if the boy were a small child.
"Now I am going to lock you in a closet for a few hours," he said, harshly. "Don't you dare to attempt an escape, or it will be the worse for you, mind that!"
He walked with his burden to a rear room. Here was situated, in one corner, a large kitchen pantry, now bare of even the shelving.
Into the pantry Ralph was thrust, in a sitting position. Then the door was closed and bolted on him. Presently he heard Martin leave the room and hurry downstairs.
The poor boy was dazed and bewildered by the roughtreatment he had received. For some time he sat where he had been placed, not daring to move for fear his tormentor would come back and finish his evil work.
"There is something behind it all," he thought, dismally. "Martin is doing this for some purpose. What can that purpose be?"
Ralph did not brood over the mystery long. As the minutes passed slowly by and Martin did not come back, the youth began to speculate on the chances of escape.
"If I could only get free of these cords I might burst open the door," he thought. "Let me see what I can do."
Ralph struggled manfully, but it availed him but little. He was no great contortionist, and his efforts resulted only in a painful laceration of his wrists and ankles. Martin had done his work well, and the bonds could not be severed without outside aid.
Five minutes more went by—to poor Ralph they seemed an age. Then the boy fancied he heard a light footstep without.
"Hullo! where are yer?" came in a clear but subdued voice, which Ralph was sure he had heard before.
The cry was repeated several times. In the meanwhile Ralph changed his position and began to kick upon the door.
"In the kitchen closet, dat's where he is!" exclaimed the voice, and the patter of bare feet came toward Ralph's prison.
A second later the bolt on the door was shot back. A flood of light came into the place and Ralph beheld theface and form of the bootblack he had become acquainted with at the entrance to the post office.
"I t'ought so!" exclaimed the bootblack. "Say, he's a corker ter treat yer dis way, ain't he?"
Then he saw how Ralph was gagged and bound, and he gave a low whistle of surprise.
"Gee! What's dis, highway robbery?" he cried.
In a trice he had out his pocketknife and with it he cut Ralph's bonds. Ralph himself removed the gag.
"Thank you, Mickety!" he ejaculated, as he sprang to his feet. "You are the friend in need!"
"I seen him leadin' yer up here, an' I t'ought it was mighty queer," said the bootblack. "Wot's de game?"
"I am as much in the dark as you, Mickety. That man has tried twice before to take my life."
"Gee! yer don't say!"
"It is true."
"Maybe he wants ter git a fortune away from yer, like der villain in der play."
"There is no fortune to get away—at least none that I ever heard of. But where has he gone?"
"He went down der street. I watched him around der corner before I came up, so as ter make sure I wouldn't be collared."
"We had best get out of here before he comes back," went on Ralph, after a moment's thought. "I do not wish to meet him again," and he shuddered.
"All right, come on."
"What brought you here?"
"I live across der street, an' I just come home fer me grub. I kin take yer ter our rooms if yer want ter come."
"I will tell you what I would like to do, Mickety. I would like to stay here until he comes back, and then follow him."
"Gee! dat's der ticket. Come on right over."
The bootblack led the way across the dirty and crowded street, and into an alleyway.
"Me home is back dere," he said, pointing to a rear tenement. "I don't suppose yer want ter come in, if yer goin' ter watch fer dat man."
"No, I will stay here," returned Ralph.
"I'll git a bit of grub an' den come out ag'in," said Mickety.
He ran off, leaving Ralph alone. The crowd of street children looked at the country boy, but they had seen him talking to Mickety, with whom they were well acquainted, and they did not offer to ask Ralph any questions or tease him, as they might an utter stranger.
In less than a quarter of an hour the bootblack was back, munching the last of a big doughnut.
"Ain't come yet?"
"Not yet, Mickety."
"Kin I stay an' help yer watch fer him?"
"If you wish, certainly."
"He may try to do yer ag'in, an' I kin call a cop."
"That is so. Yes, stay with me, and I will pay you for your trouble."
"Huh! don't want no pay, Mr. —— Yer didn't tell me yer name."
"Ralph Nelson."
"I ain't askin' fer no pay, Mr. Nelson. Dis sort of a job is nuthin' but fun."
"You may be of valuable assistance to me," went on Ralph. "I may have that man arrested. You can prove that he bound and gagged me, and locked me up in the closet."
"Dat's so."
"I want to find out what his object is. He may——"
Ralph broke off short and pointed across the street.
"Dat's him, true enough!" whispered Mickety, as Martin entered the tenement opposite. "Wot yer goin' ter do now?"
"Wait till he comes out."
This did not consume much time. In less than three minutes after he had entered the building, Martin came running out. He looked greatly disturbed and hurried down the street as fast as his long legs would carry him.
"Dere he goes!" exclaimed Mickety, in ill-suppressed excitement.
"Come on," returned Ralph. "He must not get out of our sight."
He started off, with the bootblack at his side. He looked at Mickety and saw that the little fellow's head was about the size of his own, and that he wore a large-brimmed soft hat.
"Let us trade hats for a while, Mickety. I can pull that down over my face."
The exchange was quickly effected. With the soft hat bent down Ralph knew he would stand a much greaterchance of escaping detection at the hands of Martin than before.
On went the man and his followers for fully a dozen blocks. Then Martin turned into a very respectable side street, and, ascending the stone steps of a large brick mansion, rang the bell.
A man came to the door and let him in. Then the door was tightly closed once more.
"Dat's de end of dis case," muttered Mickety, in a disappointed tone.
"Not a bit of it, Mickety," returned Ralph. "See if you can hunt up a policeman. In the meantime I will watch the house so that this man does not get away."
Mickety at once went off to do as Ralph had requested. He was rather doubtful about a policeman listening to his tale, but he resolved to do his best.
In the meantime Ralph inspected the house, and wondered what sort of place it was, and what had brought Martin there. His inspection ended in disappointment, for nothing came to light.
Presently, however, a young girl came out of the basement of the house with a pitcher in her hand. She was evidently a servant girl. A milkman drove up, and from him she purchased a quart of milk.
Before she could return to the house, Ralph touched her on the arm.
"Excuse me, but I believe you live in that house," he said, pleasantly.
"I works there, sur," said the girl, in a strong Irish accent.
"Will you kindly tell me who lives there?"
"Mr. Martin Thomas, sur."
Ralph stared at this bit of information. Martin Thomas and the man he was after were most likely the same individual.
"Did he just come in?"
"Yis, sur."
"He lives there alone, does he?"
"Oh, no, sur. There's another family occupying the house, but they are away for the summer, sur."
"Oh. I see. Thank you."
"Did you wish to see Mr. Thomas, sur?"
"Is he busy?"
"He said he was going away, sur. He's at work packing up some things, I believe."
"Then I won't bother him. It isn't likely that he would want to buy a new History of the United States, is it?"
"Indeed not!" cried the girl, in deep disgust.
She at once took Ralph for a book agent, a set of men she thoroughly despised.
"I won't bother him," said Ralph, and walked away, while the girl hurried back into the basement.
"So he is going away," thought Ralph. "I must see to it that he does not get very far."
He took up his position behind the stone steps of a house nearby, so that looking from the windows of his own residence, Martin might not see him.
While he was waiting, Ralph looked up and down the street for the bootblack, but Mickety had disappeared.
"He won't leave me in the lurch, I feel certain of that," said Ralph to himself. "Yet I would feel easier if there was a policeman in sight."
Five minutes more went by, and then the front door of the house opened and Martin came out.
He was elegantly dressed and wore a silk hat. In one hand he carried a large leather valise.
He looked up and down anxiously, and then ran down the steps to the pavement.
He started to walk down the block, and Ralph allowed him to get a hundred feet or more from the house.
Then he stepped out and confronted the man.
"Well, Mr. Martin Thomas, we meet again," he said, coolly.
Martin Thomas, for that was really the man's name, was thunderstruck.
"What—er——" he stammered.
"I say we meet again," repeated Ralph. "I guess you did not expect to see me quite so soon."
"Confound the luck!" muttered the man, biting his lips nervously.
"You did not expect me to obtain my freedom as quickly as I did."
"How did you get out?" muttered the man, savagely.
"A friend came to my assistance."
"A friend!" repeated Martin Thomas, with a start.
"Yes, a friend."
"Who?"
"Perhaps you can guess," went on Ralph, who wished to prolong the conversation as much as possible.
"I cannot."
"Make a guess."
"Somebody from Glen Arbor?"
"No."
"A city friend, perhaps?"
"Exactly."
"Well, what are you going to do now?"
"Rather, let me ask you what you are going to do?" returned Ralph, warmly.
He was much relieved just then to see Mickety across the way, with a policeman beside him.
"I?"
"Exactly. You tried your best to get me out of the way," went on Ralph, in rather a loud voice. "And now you have failed, I want to know what your next move is going to be."
"Hush, not so loud!" cried Martin Thomas in alarm. "Never mind what I am going to do."
"Will you tell me why you tried to take my life?"
"Hang it, boy, don't talk so loud!"
"Then tell me your object."
"I won't."
"You will have to."
"What's that, boy?"
"I say you will have to."
"Nonsense. Get out of my way. I am in a hurry."
Martin Thomas tried to brush past Ralph, but the boy caught him by the arm.
"Let go of me, boy, unless you want me to do something desperate. You escaped me three times, but——"
Martin Thomas broke off short, and his face turned a sickly green. He had just caught sight of the policeman and Mickety, who were dodging behind him.
"Why—er——" he began.
"Dat's der feller, officer!" cried out Mickety. "Didn't yer hear wot he said?"
"I did," replied the policeman.
"Arrest this man, officer," put in Ralph. "And be careful, for he is a desperate criminal."
"This is an outrage!" cried Martin Thomas, but he was too overcome to put any courage in his words.
"I will make a complaint against the man," said Ralph, calmly. "This boy will be a witness for me, and I can get other witnesses against him if it be necessary."
"That's all I want," said the policeman. "You just come with me," he went on, to Martin Thomas.
The rascal begged, pleaded and threatened, but all to no purpose. The policeman held him on one side, while Ralph ranged up on the other, and Mickety marched behind. In this order they soon reached the station-house.
Here Ralph told his whole story, and Mickety related what he knew of the affair. Then the country boy sent a special messenger to Horace Kelsey.
The arrival of the rich insurance agent helped Ralph's case considerably. Martin Thomas was locked up in default of a thousand dollars' bail, pending trial for atrocious assault.