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WAITER ELLINGTON,
And
Nellie Cranston.
The Mysterious Murder.
Aii Exciting Story.
CHAPTER X.
Walter Ellington left Nettlethorpe on the follow-
iner morning, accompanied by a boy wheeling hi*
trunk, a black leather bag, ani a brown paper par
cel. Black Ralph awaited at the entrance to the
station, and received him with a smile of satisfac-
“Good morning sir,” said he. “This looks like
business. Put your traps into the hand of a por-
“This done Walter took up the brown paper parcel
and followed Ralph into the waiting room.
•> This is for Nelly.” said he, as he placed the par
cel on the table. “It is a work-box the prettiest I
could find in King’s Lias. Tell her I hope she will
like it, and regard it as a mark of my esteem for
her.” „ . . ,
"JShe shall have it, Master Ellington,” rejoined
Ralph. “And now for bu iness. Here are the five
sovs which you are to pay me when you can, with a
trifle of interest. When vou have fixed yourself in
London, you must let me know your address.”
ATalter tore a leaf out of his pocket book, and
wrote upon it, “I O U £5.—Walter Ellington.”
“That is the thing—right as a trivet,” observed
R Ipli. .
Soon the. steam horse started, and the tram rush -
•ed away from the station
Arrived in the metropolis, our hero located b m-
self in an humble lodging, and the next morning
began his quest of employment by a diligent peru
sal of the advertisements of the daily newspapers.
Three 01 four of these he resp' inded to, and received
a brief note the same evening, requesting him to
call at eleven o'clock next morning at the office of
Mr. Jerdan, stock broker, Warneford Court.
Punctually to a minute he presented himself. •
“You are Mr. Ellington, I supposed” said the
stock-broker.
“Yes, sir.”
“Sit down a few moments,” said Mr. Jerdan. I
am going out and will speak to you on my return.”
He bad not been gone many minutes whn a stout
middle-aged gentleman, whose countenance bore
ttie impress of benevolence upon every feature en
tered the office.
“Mr. Jerdan has just stepped out for a few mo
ments,” observed our hero.
“Etif ejaculated the stranger, turning quickly
toward him, “your voice is familiar to me. Your
name is Ellington, is it not t
“Yes, sir.”
“Yo ’ do not remember me ?’’ said the gentleman.
“I saw y ou at Nettlethorpe, when I dined one day
with your father six months ago,” said the stranger.
My name is Seagrave. Are you your own master?
Is there no guardian appointed;”
“Mv father made no will, sir,” rejoined Walter.
His pr ipertv has gone therefore to his cou«in, Sum
er ford; and! am here to offer my services to Mr.
Jerdan as clerk ”
“Indeed!” responded Mr. Seagrave. “But yon
inherit his propertv, will or no will.”
J ‘Mr. Somerford asserts that I am illegitimate,
and I have no means of proving the contrary,” re
turned our hero.
“Somerford is a scoundrel and a black-leg. ex
claimed Mr. Seagrave. “ Your father married your
mother in the parish church of Monk’s Bridge in
Kent. I have heard him mention the place many a
time; your mother’s family owned property there. ’
“You inspire me with hop >, sir. I will go down
t» Monk’s bridge the first opportunity, and obtain a
certified copy of the register which will vindicate
mv mother's hononSpid restore to me the name,
and recover for rnethe properly Which Somerford
..1 J ‘ K^l.lc ,rn.,i me ” o' - ^artlCT, - -*,»,*V^>
Seagrave. “But here is Mr. Jer<3an.”
The stock broker entered as tie spoke.
“I have been agreeably surprised by meeting here
the sou of an old and esteemed friend,” said Mr.
Seagrave.
‘if the young gentleman is a friend of yours, and
my teruis—Jive shillings per week w ill suit him,
there is the stool and desk ready for him,” observed
Mr. Jordan.
Walter looked surprised and disconcerted at the
amount of the remuneration offered for his services.
“That will do for pock t money, I suppose,” said
Mr. Seagrave with a smile; “and for the present I
hope you will regard my house as your home;” and
lie placed hi« card on our hero’s desk as he spoke.
Walter’s countenance brightened at this invita
tion. He was no 1 sorry to remove the trunk and
traveling bag which contained all his possessions,
from the humble lodgings at which he had slept the
preceding night, to the handsome villain which Mr.
Seagrave resided at Forest Hill.
Tne gentleman received him with the utmost co -
diality. and together they discoursed upon plans for
the discovery of the great mystery.
feet five or six, inches and of fair complexion,” re
plied theclerk’.”
“About what age ?” inquired our hero eagerly.
“He had gray hair, but he did not look old in the
face. I should say he was a good looking, well-pre
served man of fifty, or a vear or two younger.
“Grey hair!’’ repeated Walter.
“A wig perhaps,” observed Mr. Seagrave.
“What can t>e done now?” said Walter, as he
walked beside Mr. Seagrave, after they had quitted
the church.
“We must advertise for witnesses of the marriage
and such like,” replied his friend. There must sure
ly be some survivor of the wedding party; but if no
such person comes forward we can only watch and
wait.”
They returned to London that evening; and two
days afterwards an advertisement appeared in the
leading journal, calling for wirnesses of the mar
riage; but days and weeks passed and no response
appeared, and the mystery of the missing leaf of
the Monk’s Bridge register appeared as impenetra
hie as the more dread mystery of the Dead Man’s
Rock.
CHAPTER XII.
There was a flower show in the grounds of the
rectory at Nettlethorpe, and all the gentry of the
neighborhood were there, besides the summer visi
tors to King’s Lias.
Nelly Cranston was there, making as tidy an ap
pearance as her scanty wardrobe rendered possible.
Nelly’s attention had been drawn frim the con
templation of the flowery clumps of rhododendrons
by the appearance of the gentleman whom she had
seen place the watch in the pocket of Ellington s
coat.
She was sure it was he.
She could not be mistaken, and she reserved to
watch him, and to communicate the fact of his pres
ence to the constable on dutv in the grounds. .
Mr. Jones seemed to be look ng for some one whom
he expe cted to see there. _
At iast his wandering glance fell upon Mr. Som
erford and his wife, towards whom he advanced
with alacrity. ,
Lifting bis hat with grave courtesy as he came up
to them,he extends! hi right hand with a smile of
gratification wreathed his countenance.
To his surprise and mortification no sign of reeog-
nl ion was manifested by either the lady or .gentle-
m Soinerford regarded him with a cold glanee of
surprise, and the pair walked on.
“00that is it, is it?” he muttered. The co?d
shoulder, eh? Wo are up in the world, and must
shake off our old pals, eh?”
He followed the Somerford’s with an angry
glance fora moment, and then he walked in an op
posite direction. On bis way he passed the consta
ble, who turned to have a look at hira, and was still
looking when Nelly came up. .
“Ain’t you the girl who got youngEIbngton off;
said he. ,,
“Yes;” she replied, eagerly, and that is the man
who put the watch and chain into his pocket! I
have been watching for him ancs looking for you
this half hour.”
“I thought I knew something about him, ob
served the constable. “Beg pardon, sir, said he,,
touching the gentleman's arm. “Isn't your name
Wilfred Jones?”
“Yes, tha‘ is my Mm?,” replied the gentleman.
“Must trouble you to come with me' then. ” sail
the constable. “That little affair of youtng Elling
ton’s, you know.”
“1 don’t understand you,” returned Mr- A\ 11 ford
Jonee- “What affair are you speaking oil ?”
“It was you who pint the watch and chain into
the poor lad’s pocket, you wicked man !” exclaimed
Nelly; “I saw you do-it, though you sEd not see
me.” ...
“Is the girl mad ?” said he, regarding her with *
look of surprise. What does this mean, constable?
“The girl,” replied the constable, ‘"has sworn that
she saw a man do what she says, and she now points
you out as the man who did it.”
“I know all about the murder,” observed Wilford
Jonet. “It was my evidence that got off the man
who was accused of it. As for wbat this girl al-
station at King‘s Lias, this afternoon, attended by
a gentleman in blue; and when we got there, she
was turned out and I received an apology fi
inspector for the indignity I had been subjec
t0 '“That is one of the advantages of being a swell,"
observed Black Ralph. . . , , . ■
“I do not se-j it in that light, “ rejoined his vis
itor.
“It seems that the magistrates have been
conferring about the mystery of the murder ana
young Ellington's seeming intimacy with your
(laughter. By-the-by, is she your daughter, Cran
ston ?“
“No,“ replied Ralph, after a pause. She is the
child of an old pal, who was lagged when she was a
mere b-tby. “ .
“As I was saying, young Eilington s friendly
manner towards her. his statement that he was here
on the night of the murder, and the fact that he was
seen in your company at the railway station on the
morning of his departure from Nettlethorpe, have
caused the magistrates to reject her story about me,
and to look more suspiciously than ever upon the
boy.“
“Eh !“ ejaculated Ralph.
“You say yon-boll the key to the mystery ? said
wilford Jones.
“That is my secret,, 1 * returned Ralph, turning
sharply upon his visitor. “And I do not mean to
share it with anybody.“ .... . .
“My dear fellow, I am not fishing for it, 1 rejoin
ed Joues; “I was only wondering why you have
not used it for putting a him Ired pounds in your
pocket by denouncing the murderer, and claiming
the reward offered. “
“I will tell you," said Black Ralph. “I do not do
so because there is a better market for my secret,
and I can make more money by keeping than by re
vealing it. Is there anything else you want to
know ?“
“Much,* 1 repl ed Jones. “I came here with the
hope that you might be induced to assist me for a
consideration, of course—in getting my revenge of
Somerford. The ungrateful rascal actually cut me
this afternoon at the flower show."
“Wished to be even with you when he hod settled
with you. I suppose,“ observed Ralph- “A ery an-
noying to you qf course; but not surprising, if it
is his game ne-the resjiectable dodge down
here."
“Blow his respectability! ” exclaimed Jones.
“Do you think I do not know him ? Why, we were
pals; and do yon think I am going to be insulted
because lie has made a bold stroke for a fortune,
and b -en lucky enough to obtain it?”
“What are you going to do?” inquired R ilph.
“How has he managed to get jpossession of the
murdered man’s property, and to turn young El
lington out?” returned Jones, answering one ques
tion with an other.**
“How should I know ?“ rejoined Ralph.
“Look here Ralph Cranston !“ excla rned the oth
er, beginning to get excited. “Somerford’s story
of tlve lad hi ing illegitimate, and Eilington having
died without making a will, I do not believe a word
of, and I meaivitbEti ret out the truth. Now, if I
was to-be caught with Samerford’s writing desk in
my possession, I should g#t a good spell of penal
servitude; but you could overhaul sudh things with
out danger, because—’*
“what do you mean ?*" exclaimed Ralph; “do you
take me for a burgler. Mr. Jones?"
“Never mind what I take you for," returned the
other. “Get me any document that would prove
that Somerford is not lawfully in possession of Fern
Lodge, and I will give you tv hundred pounds."
* Because you could get twice as much for it from
young Ellington, and your revenge ints> the bar
gain," said. Black Ralph. “Your game is a litt'e
mo transparent, my friend, why, don’t you see,
Mr. wilford Jones, that if I was disposed to turn
against Mr.. Somerford, I could make a miar-h better
bargain with young EU.ngton than with you. You
have cometiie wrong man. Mi-, wilford Jones."
"You will not do it, then!" said his visitor.
“No!" exclaimed Ralph. “Do you suppose I am
going to be made a tool of by the tool of another ?
Such a poor jooI’as you, too, who could not do that
I “Oh, yes, of all things,” replied Nelly, her eyes
tie men maue ms way to r ern mage. « -klin°- ^vitD expectancy.
The lights had disappeared from the drawing- spa T . ® hw rp .. up with me to-morrow
room, but there were candles burning in the cham- j orn j„g ” Ralph *
bers.
Domino Dick did not de*mi it prudent to be seen
prowling about the neighborhood at that late hour,
so he laid down behind a hedge until he heard the
clock strike one.
“They are in their fast sleep,” he said to himself.
No Oiie was in sight. He vaulted over the gate,
crossed the lane, and clambered over the wall that
bounded Mr. Somerford’s garden.
There was a balcony and verandah on the first
floor, supported by light columns, serving as sup
ports to a variety of climbing plants.
Up one of these Dick clambered, with the agility
of a cat, into the balcony.
Here he found a drawing room window unfas
tened, and in a few m’nutes he was in the room.
Having taken off his boots, he crossed the room
on tip-toe, opened the door, crept down the softly
carpeted stairs into the hall.
There was a door to the right, and another to the
left.
He chose the latter, and opening the door as
noise’essly as possible, glided into the room.
It was in darkness, for the shutters were closed;
but he quickly ligh eda match, and, finding a lamp
on the table, applied it to the wick. By the light
thus obtained, he saw upon the table a writing-
desk, but it was locked.
“I told him that burglary was not in my line !”
he muttered.
Ttien he took up the lamp and descended to the
basement—where he discovered a screwdriver.
Armed with this, he returned to the library, and
succeeded in breaking open the desk. He raised
the inner lids, and turned over the contents. At
the bottom be found a folded sheet of foolscap, aud
without examination he thrust it into his pocket.
He was about to close the desk, when he observed
another paper of small siz-q and this was also has
tily consigned to his pocket. Then he closed the
desk, hurried through the hall, and having put on
his boots, let himself out by the back door.
He closed the door noiselessly, proceeded towards
the wall, and clambered over it into the lane.
He reached the heath, and then he laid down
amongst the-furze, and slept for several hours.
When he awoke, the sun was shining. He sprang
to his feet, and at once set off for the railway sta
tion.
Burglary was an offence which Dick had never
committed before, and he felt uneasy until he was
seated in the train, and on his way to London.
CHAPTER XV.
Dick Dimmock reached London without meeting
a SeTlTghted'uom the train, an I in a few minutes
ha 1 plunged into a dingy street, between the A a-
terloo Road and the Biackfriars Road in which lo
cality he resided. He thought it best to hide tne
documents at his own lodging, and then communi
cate with Wilford Jones, instead of lncumng the
risk of conveying them him-elf to that gentleman.
It w^Tgr 5 eat S relief to him to find that the room
which he had occupied before he left London was
still unoccupied. , . , „ ,
“Which there is a fortnight s rent owing for, ob
served his lend lady; “and if so be you wants to
come back, that must be settled up before you hangs
UP * There is half th* money, and you shall have the
rest this evening,” said Dick nervously. ,
“Thankee,” returned his landlady. Short 1 eck-
onings make long friends, they say, Mr. Dimmock.
So-
ft
*3
little
pocket bmjvYss at the cowshed without !•«-
it. <gn," getting your neck into tbe han/g-
CHAPTER XIY.
SOMERFOBJ> SCENTS DANGER.
Soffloerford was dressing on the morning after the-
burglary at Fern Lodge, when a servant tapped at
the door, and informed him that she had found the
back door unfastened and the library door open.
He immediately ran down stairs and entered the
library, whore be observed upon the table the
screw drUer with which Domino D.ck had forced
open the writing desk.
He rai sed the lid with a trembling hand, and dis
covered the loss of the documents which Dick had
abstracted.
“Both gone !” he murmuzred, as he pros ed his
hand upon his forehead, “I am ruined ! This must
be that, infernal boy’s work.”
“What is the matter ?.” inquired his wife.
“The will is gone !” he exclaimed, when he had
closed the door.
“Who can have done that ?” said his wife. “No
mere burglar would have taken that, and not have
entered this room where my jewels, you see, are
afe. ”
‘‘This not the work of a common robber,” re
turned Somerford. “It must be Walter’s doing.
He knows all the ways of the house, and would not
scruple to avail himself of the knowledge to obtain
possession of the will.”
“It must be so said his wife. ‘A\ e are ruined!
Oh, James! To what disgrace this act will bring
CHAPTER XI.
That there was some deep villany. tbe depths of
which he could not at present fathom, Mr. Seagrave
was’ certain.
“But at any rate,” said he to Walter,” you are
your father’s heir, will or no w’ll. if we can obtain
the proof of your legitimacy. For that proof, my
dear boy, we will search together next Monday.”
On the following Saturday our hero accompanied
Mr. Seagrave to Margate, and was introduced to
that gentleman’s family; and on Monday- he made
an excursion to the village in the church of which
his liarents were married.
Mr. Seagrave accompanied him.
Oppo-ite the church was a pretty cottage, with a
small brass plate upon the door bearing the inscrip
tion: “J. Evens, parish clerk and sexton.”
Mr. Seagrave knocked at the door, which was
opened by a young man.
“We require the certificate of a marriage that
was performed in this church about seventeen years
ago,” said Mr. Seagrave.
‘This way gentlemen. We will go to the vestry,”
said the clerk, leading the way. “We do not have
many marriages in our little out of the way place,
and if you are right as to the date, the register
ought not to be difficult to find. AYliat were the
names of the parties, sir ?”
“Walter Ellington and Mary Penfold,” was the
reply.
The clerk unlocked a drawer, and taking out a
volume, turned over the leaves.
“I can find no entry of those names, sir,” observed
tbe clerk, after a few mome-its.
Walter’s heart sank.
‘"It camot bt> more than seventeen years ago,” ob
served Mr. Seagrave, reftec'ively, “It is very-
strange! You do not remember such a marriage, I
suppose ?'
The clerk shook his head.
“Dear me,” said Mr. Seagrave. The lady belong
ed to a Monk Bridge family too. Are there any of
them residing about here now ?”
“I have heard of them replied the clerk; “but
they are all gone, and I do not kuow who coaid teL
you anvthingahout them.”
“Will you allow me to inspect the register?” said
our hero. “It is of the greatest importance to me
that 1 should be able to prove my parents’ marriage
and I could not rest while the shadow of a doubt
remained.”
“You are welcome to examine the books, sir, but
I am sure you will look in vain, though.”
Mr. Seagrave walked up and down the vestrv
while our hero inspected the register with tremb
ling hands and anxious eyes.
‘What is this ?” exclaimed Walter suddenly
“Look here sir, there has heen a leaf cut out’”
“Mr. Seagrave said to the clerk: “Can vou call to
mind any former occasion when this book has been
in the hands of a stranger?”
“Yes,” replied the clerk; “only a few weeks ago
there was a stranger here who said he was collect
ing information relating to some old families in
Thanet, and obtained permission to examine the
register. I left him alone during part of the time
he was so occupied, and I afterwards put away the
register without examining them.” I
“Have %be good less to describe the gentleman '
you sp> ak of.” s -id our h*-r- . I
‘•He wa* rather a good looking mail, about five
‘Well, do not take hold of my arm, and Tiring a
iwd after u«,” said Wilford Jones.
“He walked by the side of the constable into
King’s Idas, and Nelly followed close in the rear.
“1 am sorry for this, sir,” said the inspector, as
soon as they were in his presence. “You can run
away, girl, you are not wanted here
Nell}- gazed at the inspector in surprise* aud was
about to repeat the accusation, when a constable
placed a hand upon her shoulder and pushed her in
to the street.
“The fact is,” continued the inspector, “that the
girl’s story impressed the bench strongly when it
was told, and led to young Ellington’s di-charge:
but w-hen the lad was seen talking with her, their
apparent intimacy was coupled with the fact that
the lad had been at the hovel of Ralph Cranston on
the night, of the murder, in a manner unfavorable
to the girl’s credit for veracity. Next morning the
lad was seen in Ralph’s company at the railway
station, where the black muzzled fellow received a
parcel from him. All this looks very bad, you see,
and, in consequence the girl’s story is now discred
ited, and a new theory of the murder has been
adopted by the magistrates.”
“Then I am at liberty ?” exclaimed Mr. Wilford
Jones.
“You are, sir,” replied tlie Inspector; “and I am
very soi-ry that you have been subjected to the in
dignity of being brought here on such a charge.
Good-afternoon, sir."
‘ "Good-afi ernoon, “ returned the delighted Jonas,
and, the next moment, he was in the street, and
on his way to the railroad station.
But Wilford Jones did not return to London by
the next train.
He merely refreshed himself with a glass of ale at
the bar of the station, and then walked in the direc
tion of the heath.
“Ha curs me, does he ?" he muttered, as he reach
ed the furze-covered wild, in the mid t of which
the hovel of Black Ralph stood. “After what I
have done for him, too ! Well, I know a thing or
two, and, if I do not fi i d out a little more, and
make a stinging rod for my gentleman, my name is
not Wilford Jones
CHAPTER XIII.
THE BLACKGUARDS.
‘ This must be the but,” said wilford Jones to
himself, as he paused before Black Ralph’s crazy
looking abode, and rapped at the door.
It was opened by Ralph himself, who recognized
his vis tor at a glance.
“I want to have a little talk with you,” observed
Jones.
“Come in,” responded Ralph, not very cordially.
“It is not often thtt my shanty is honored with
the visit of a gentleman,'so I suppose I ought to feel
proud; but I am n t fond ot visitors, especially
when I do not know- what their game is.”
wilford Jones drew a chair to the table, and sat
down in a le.surely manner.
“Y ou speak as if we were strangers, Ralph Cran
ston,” he said. “Have you f 1 .rgotten that it was
my evidence got you out of trouble when you were
suspected of ttie murder of Mr. Ellington ?”
“No,” replied Ralph, with a peculiar smile.
“Shall I tell you why you did me that service ?”
“Why, if not because I wished to save an inno
cent man from ‘he gallows ?” returned the other,
looking intently at him.
“Gallows be blowed !” exclaimed Ralph. “I was
no more in danger of that than you are at this mo
ment Rather less, perhaps. Your ueck might he
slipped into the halt-r instead of the right man’s;
but I hold ihe key to the Mystery of Dead Man’s
Rock, and while I hold that I am in no danger my-
s ir.“
“So that is the s tuation. is it ?“ said W dford
Jones, surveying Ralph's countenance for a few
moments, and then gazing out of the wiudow.
“You see, “ continued Ralph, “I was got off, be
cause, if the case got ugly, I should have rounded
U[ion the m.in that, did the job, to save my own
neck."
“Just so “ observed his visitor, still looking from
the window.
“So, you see, I do not consider myself under an
obligation to anybody," pursued Ralph. “And
now we understand each other so far, it may be
well to le me know, before my g>rl comes home,
what it is that has brought you here this evening."
*‘Y" >ur girl has had h*-r teeth drawn, my friend. “
returned 111-; o.hei. “We pa d a v sit to the police
Tne next moment lie had quitted the hovel.
“A dangerous man, " muttered Black R ilph; “but
just as likely to get himself into trouble as anybody
else."
wlfred Jones walked quickly across the heath on
leaving the hovel of Black Ralph, an 1 readied the
railway station in time for the next train.
He was about to refresh hi nself with a glass of
ale, when he found himself an object of attention
on tli > part of a young man of pt c niar appearance,
t .edu T u..-on. whose well-worn boot ,, showed that
lie had had a long walk.
“what, Mr. Jones !“ exclaimed the stranger.
“Blowed if I hardly knowed yer! You is togged
out up to the knocker, and no kid.“
The individual who accosted Wilfred Jones in ! his
farn li ir manner, had his hair cut as if he bad just
come out of prison, a white hat with a black band
round it, a threadbare black coat much too large
for him, and checked trowsers too short.
“Dick Diaimocks, as I am a sinner !“ exclaimed
Jones, with a smile.
“Yes, Domino D ck,“ said the queer-looking be
ing. “I say, you might ask a fellow to have a glass
of ale, yer know."
“Come outside," sai.l Jones. “H 're is a shilling
for you," hj said, after they had passed out. “Have
your ale, and take a return third-class ticket to the
next station 011 the up line. Get into the carriage
you see me g‘*t into, for I want a few words with
you."
“All right,“ said Dick. “I shall have my eye on
yer, yer know."
Dick hurried into the bar, and Mr. Jones got his
ticket, and sauntered down the platform.
“In a minute or t wo Dick appeared, the train ran
up. and >li-y stepped into the same carriage, select
ing an empty compartment.
"I suppose you are hard up,“ said Mr. Jones, as
soon ns the train had started.
“Never was harder up in my life !“ responded
Dick.
“Well, look here, Dick,” said the other. “Not to
beat about the bush, I want you to rummige a
gent’s papers, and bring me what you find. There
is a house at Nettlethorpe called Fern Lodge, which
you will have to get into; and the papers I want are
the will of Mr. Ellington, and any family docu
ments, such as marriage certificates, and letters
or memoranda, which throw any light 011 the fam
ily affairs.”
Dick nodded two or three times while Jones was
speaking.
“I understand,” said he. “AYliat am I to have for
it: because burglary is not in my line, yer know.”
“Never mind about the burglary,” returned
Jones. “You will be doing a good action, Dick,
for the gent that lives in the house is keeping a
poor boy out of his rights.”
“You don’t say so !” exclaimed Dick, with a look
of reprobation.
“Fact, I assure you,” returned Jones.
“But you do not mean ‘virtue is to be its own
reward,’ as they say iu the copy books, do yer ?”
said Dick.
“Do you suppose me capable of being so shabby,
Dick,” replied the otli-.-r. “Here is a sovereign for
you, and if you bring me any papers of use you
shall have a t-njiound note for "your trouble.”
“Fare to London, night’s lodging, supper, break
fast, and a smack at Bali-bury,” said Dick, balanc
ing the sovereign on his fore finger. “There will
not be much change left when I get to London, \ er
know.”
“Bring the pajiers, and you w 11 tie all right, ’
rejoined VViif rd J i.es
D tnino Dick pocketed the coin while Jones was
spe dt ng.
“But how can I find the house? I must know
that, yer know,” said Dick.
“It is a villa at a corner of the lane, near the
bridge,” replied Jones. “You had bettor go across
the heath.”
The train now drew up to the platform at the
next station, and Domino Dick jumped out.
“All right,” said he, and immediately disappeared
anioeg the crowding passengers.
The down train passed shortly afterwards, and
in a few minutes Domino Dick alighted from it at
the station which he had left a short time before iu
company with AVilford Jones.
By the time he had reached Fern Lodge it was
dark, but he could see to read the name on the
gate; and, having done this, he entered a little beer-
shop, where he remained until the landlord an
il unced that he was about to close.
“Fear not !” he returned. “It must be recovered
by the same means as have been used against us,
and for a toomenfe and once again ii: my hands, it shall .be consigned
^ , —J } V •riiftft'WWe l’ert tne uouse, ..minroctc.icu „rds
>mei:ford in spite of the heath.
He went straight t > the hovel of Black Ralph,
which he entered without knocking at the door.
The poacher was from home, and Nelly was sit
ting alone by the open window, oecupied'vvith some
needlework.
“lv her ■ is Ralph Cranston ?” inquire 1 the uncer
emonious visitor.
“He is not at home, sir,” replied Nelly, looking
up from her work in-some surprise.
“So you are the girl who gave the evidence that
ilas'er E lington g .t off upon ?” asked Somerford.
“Yes, sir,” said tiie girl, with a faint blush.
“He is an acquaintance of yours is he not ?” in
quired the visitor. “AVdieti did you s e him last ?”
“I have not seen him since,” replid Nelly, with
increasing confusion.
Somerford took a seat near the table, saying he
would wait awhile.
Tiiere was a draw in the table, with a lock upon
it, and the key was in the lock. Upon this ins eyes
settled, and a desire to know what was in the
drawer came upon him, and grew stronger every
moment.
By an adroit movement he contrived to noise
lessly pull out the drawer, while pretending to be
looking towards the window.
So absorbed was his mind at that moment, that
iie did not observe the opening of the door, and
started when the heavy hand of B!ack Ralph was
laid upon his shoulder.
“You make yourself at home, Mr. Somerrord,”
said Ralph; “but you will not find what you are
looking for there.”
Somerford closed the drawer, and turned quickly
round.
‘:Ralph Cranston,” said he, “my house was en
tered last nigh', and documents of great impor
tance to me carried away; and I have reasons to
believe that a lad, whom your girl appears to be
acquainted with, is the thief ”
“You mean Master Ellington ?” observed Ralph,
seating himself opposite his visitor.
Somerford nodded.
“What then ?” continued Ralph. “You do not
stiopos • he would bring the papers here to be taken
care of, do you ?’’
“Perhaps not,” returned his visitor. “Come
out upon the heath, and I will tell you why I came
here.”
He rose as he spoke, and Ralph followed him
from the hovel.
“The papers I have lost,” said he, “are of the
great-s value to me, and of no value to any one
else, except young Ellington. In his hands they
can be used for my ruin. They must be recovered,
therefore, at any cost.”
“How much easier it would have been to have
destroyed them,” observed Ralph.
“I was a fool not to have done so,” exclaimed
Somerford. “But it is useless to lament now.
What I have to do is to recover them, and for that
purpose I must have your assistance.”
“S iy on,” said Ralph.
“Do you know where young Eilington is ?” in
quired Somerford, looking intently at him.
“Perhaps I do, and perhaps I do not,” returned
Ralph. “I have not come out here in this blazitig
sun to answer questions. Say your say out, and
be doii“ with it.”
“Assuming that you know where to find him,
will you o 'Oiir e-t to recover them from him,
and > i .g them 10 me ?”
"Yes, for a consideration,” replied R dpli.
“Fifty pounds if you bring me his father’s will,
and twenty if you satisfy me that you have fairly
made the attempt, and failed,” said Somerford.
"leu pounds earnest money, and I will make the
cons deration a hundred pouuds, if the lad should
resist and get killed.”
“I understand,” rejoined Ralph, fixing his eyes
upon Somerford’s. “But hadn’t you better do tnat
part of the business ? Ir. is not in my line.”
“Well, get me the will and I shall be content,”
said Somerford. “when will you set out ?”
“To-merrow, by the firsttrain,” replied Ralph.
Somerford placed ten sovereigns in the hand of
skipped up _
around for a place of concealment for the papers.
He looked down at the floor and the hearthstone,
and finally decided upon biding them behind a P 1 ’ 1 '
tion of the skirting-board, which he fi rst loosened
with a knife, and then, after concealing the docu
ments behind it, replaced with a k ek of his toot.
“Tnat is done,” he said aloud. ‘ Now to find out
Mr. Jones.” ,
His lan llady saw him go out, and watched 111 the
evening for his return hour after hour.
“He :s a nice man, he is,” she observed, as time
passed, and midnight came, but not Domino, I
have got a week’s rent out of him, though, and I
have taken care that he do not come in to-night..
Dick did not present himself, however either that
night or oirthe following morning. A man, accom
panied by a dark-eyed girl of thirteen 01- fourteen,
applied in tiie afternoon for lodgings, took the two
allies, and paid a week’s rent in advance.
“Now give me money for wood and coal, and tea
an ’ s gar, - ’ said the girl, addressing ihe dark-visag
ed man, whom she accompanied, “and I will make
afire, and put the kettle on for tea.”
“Ay, Nelly, we will res to day, and commence
work to-morrow,” returne 1 the man, as he gave
her some silver. “AVe will see some of the sights
of London, my girl, and get these papers if we can,
and if not, we must return without them.
“No harm to the lad, mind !” saitl the girl.
“Not a hair of h.s head shall be touched, I tell
you,” returned the mm, whom our readers have
doubtless recognized as Bla k Ralph. "If does not
suit my book to hint him; but I must not tell Mr.
Somerford so much.”
Nelly went out, re assured by these words, and
Ralph smoked his pipe by the window.
AVhat, in the meantime, had become of Domino
D;ok ? He had got only to the corner of the street
after leaving the houst, when ly became aware
that he was an object of attention to a meanly-at
tired man who was walking on the opposite side.
To Dick, such attention was at all times annoy
ing; and he at first walked fast r, and then slower,
in the hope of getting rid of the ob>ervant individ
ual,. towards whom he threw from time to time a
furtive glance of uneasiness and dislike.
The mean-looking individual was not to be avoid
ed- He-followed Dick, as if ne had been his shad
ow.
“I cannot stand this,” muttered Dick, and, find
ing himself lwar a dark court, he darted into it-
As he reached the outlet at the farther end, he
heard a cry of “Stop him !.” and the next moment
ran into the outstretched arms of a policeman.
“Hallo 1“ exclaimed the policeman; “where to,
in such a hurry ?”
“Let me go,” said Dick, making energetic demon
strations. ” IV hal are you _ holding me for ? Isay,
now, let me go, yer know.”
“Hold him !” exclaimed the mean-looking indi-
didual, running up.
“Who are you ?” demanded Dick. What have
you been following me about for, as you wanted to
garote me.”
4 1-x.i. cr-w fcht? sllTllfbily-
clad individuals “we have got yuu now, and mean
to keep you. Y 011 know me ?” he added, turning to
the policeman.
“All right,” was the rejoinder.
“Telia fellow what he’s wanted for,” said Dick,
cea-ing to resist, and assuming an aggrieved look.
“F a- swindling the gentleman on the Epsom line
along with Ikey Rob,” replied the disguised police
man.
“Swindling P’ exclaimed Dick; what do you
mean ? We only had a game or two at cards, and
t.ie greenhorn lost. Il h" had won, he would have
taken our money, wouldn’t he ? Do you call that
swindling ?”
“Y iu will find the judge will, anyhow,” rejoined
tiie policeman, as they proceeded towards the sta-
tion-house.
“I am an unlucky fellow,” sighed Dick; every
dodge I try breaks down.”
“Did you ever try the honest dodge ?” inquired
the policeman.
“Never learned the fake of it,” replied Dick; “but
this bail luck is enough to make a fellow try it, yer
know.”
They soon reached the station-house, where Dick
was placed in a cell to await the decision of the
magistrate on the following day.
(To re Continued.)
THAT NEW SEEING BONNET.
The Woman Before She Gets it and After
wards.
AVhat a powerful adjunct to religion is a new
spring bonnet. 1 nave known ladies—zealous chris
tian worshippers—who were entirely cured of sev
en ailments by the po.sesuon of the spring style of
hat, I have known cases wherein ladies were gre-
viously afflicted witii coughs, colds, influenza rheu
matism and otner terr.ble afflict.ons, who were able
to get out and attend church, and seem emirely
well, immediately after getting a new spring hat.
Did you ever notice a.id compare the influence
produced by the pleasure of wearing a new h it iu
one case, and the necessity of wearing an old one in
a 1 other case ?
Ttie lady in the old hat, conscious that she is a
f ; .shionnble fish out of water, slides into church and
sinks into her seat with a manifest attempt co avoid
observation. She gives her en ire attention to her
religious devotions. She looks neither to the riffht
nor to the left-only straight ahead at the minister
She crouches in her seat, tries to sink herself below
the level of the average head, and her countenance
betrays nothing bat consuming piety
A week passes, and during that week the F ites
have presented to that lady th ■ newest thing in
spring bonnets—the genuine tin pail and towel
adornment. See her aga n at church. She walks
m with an an-that the Queen of Sheba might have
envied. Head erect—thrown back 1 " e
—and tossed now and Mien with the
little, in fact
sWe\o n sJr^^
side to side and upon her face i, an exoression
more indicative of satisfaction, contentmentIn 1
Lappmess, than of piety an l devotion. Instead of
smk.ng into her seat in a manner calculated to
avo d observation, sbe gives a military*£ighSboS
face when she reaches her pew, and pins hersJlf
W1 a U ^'® ran ke of vision of the whole con-
t“' vf' when she >its down she has a great
deal of trouble in arranging her dr. ss. She “bobs
aiKl , half a dozen times in the effort to ar-
range her skirts, and when she finally gets settled
” ur P’isrd to find that, m sinking below the
nnwV >fllead \“ S slledi ‘ 1 the previous Sunday she
rs aboVe tbe rest - and the ,in pail and the
self 1 are aS C ° nspl ' U )US to ail e N PS the pulpit it-
w.Trshto iS Tf,« agreatd fferencein the manner of
worship. The sermon seems not to require the
appl.c_.tion which characterizes the -"® C,OSe
Ihe lady is able to look about <
Th-n they parted, and Black Ralph and her face is 1
cine-iei, tile novel. ili ’ious redlUj re-
Nefly looked earnestly into his countenance. pails and towels and^he them sharnl Ulher
“You have not been plotting against that poor ally and comnarativriv Sh„ tnL hcUpl >- witic-
lad whose father was murdered ?” said she, inter- in "a hat of the detonct' fasloa-Th U “ ei S hbar
thinks m „.. „ witbhim,
Nelly,” responded Ralph. “No, n >, he shall not be | Uncle John.
harmed, my girl; but if he has got those papers—! r „,i. , , '——-
which I do not believe—he must give them uu ' as ” e * ar declares that the
” P ' a statesman, was more in.
AV as ;i» 0 co.o in the Unite 1 8,,'tes.
give them up. n « ‘“’i* vor k Tuiersperform >d
Wou.d you 1 ke a trip o I o. d m, my gn; .” “ *™ S T ? 1 ° re , 1 ;! ,port:ln ' J tola that of
jk
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