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ROTTTH.
and then turned aside into Fifth
avenue. York’s new acquaintance
chatted in an easy way about social
happenings and business in Wall
Street
“Evidently he wishes to pass «■= a
Wall Street operator,” thought Van
Z^ndft ^
His guide stopped at length before
a handsome stone-faced building.
“Here we are! Hoes the old house
look familiar ?” he said, as he began to
mount the broad steps that led to the
pillared stoop.
“Is it possible this can be a real club
house?” thought Van Zandt. “Would
he dare to try his tricks in such a
place ?”
A boy in buttons opened the door in
answer to the stranger’s ring, and
York followed his cicerone into the
parlor—a large, high-ceilinged room—
fitted up in pale terra cotta and gold
.Some luxurious chairs and lounges
were scattered about. There were
pictures and busts decorating the
walls and niches, and the further room,
smaller and separated from the other
by India silk portieres, was full of tall,
feathery palms and camelias in
bloom.
“ There is nothing new here, except
this picture—a fair copy of Paul and
Virginia—given to the club by Major
Danforth,” said York’s friend. “Let’s
go on to the bil'iard-rooin; we’ll find
some of the fellows there. Or, stop;
I’ll go back and ask about the dinner.
If it is ready we’ll go straight up to
my rooms. I’ll order it to be served
there.”
He left York standing in the hall
while he went to the back part of the
house and spoke through the tube to
the presid ng genius of the kitchen.
When he came back he said :
“Dinner is ready; we’ll go up at
once. I looked in at the billiard-room;
Charley Co’e and Ward Murray are
there. Would you I ke to speak to
them before we go up ?”
York said yes. He was beginning
to be mystified. Perhaps this was no
swindler, after all, but a genuine club
man who had taken him for some one
he resembled, as the two ladies on the
street had evidently done.
He moved on with his guide, and
the latter pushed open a door that
stood ajar and stepped inside the long
billiard-room. Two young men were
knocking the balls about over the
green baize-colored table. At the
sound of some one entering they turned
their heads. Exclamations of surprise
broke from them.
“Halloo! it’s York Van Zandt!”they
said in chorus.
The younger, a slender, graceful
young fellow about York’s age, ran up
and shook hands heartily with the
Californian.
“Awful glad to see you, old man,” he
said. “When did you get to town?”
“Today—a few hours ago,” York
said, mechanically.
He was bewildered. These men
called him by his name! He had heard
oi confidence men and buneo-stet-rers
doing just this thing; but could these
young men be swindlers—the pals and
partners of his companion? They
were fashionably dressed; they hid
the easy, assured air of gentlemen,and
the house was wholly unlike a
swindler’s den. It was similar in its
arrangemen s to the fashionable club
houses he had read of. But then he
had never seen a club house; he had
never been in Yew York City, and his
head was full of the accounts he had
heard of the various swindling tricks
practiced upon the unwary stranger
in wicked Gotham. This must be a
“den” of the super-elegant kind, and
these gentlemanlv young fellows
must be accomplished crooks of the
first water.
Bnt how did they know his name—
his full name—uncommon as it, was?
He had not registered anywhere, and
he knew no one in the city. And
wh t was the particular trap they
were setting to catch him ?
He was really curious to see, and no
little amused, when he reflected what
fools they were for their pains. If
they only knew the empty state of his
pocket! Well, he could afford to look
a 1 i• tie farther into their game! It
would do no harm; they couldn’t get
blood out of a turnip.
CHAPTER IV.
‘i’ll take f fty shares
1$ ELLINGHAM.”
IN THE
His suspicions revived. These
strangers calling him by his name
made him feel there must be a trick
of some kind at the bottom of this
mystery. Three men might possibly
mistake his identity, and take him to
be some friend of theirs whom he liap
pened to resemble; but this trieiul
would not be the same in name as w T ell
as similar in looks. Yo: it must be
that some trick, perhaps some practical
joke or conspiracy, was the see et of
the cordial reception he was getting in
what seemed to be a fashionable club
house.
Well, be it trick or practical joke he
would see it through, and he would
show no sign of being either amazed or
puzzled. He would keep cool and take
everything that came as a matter of
course.
The younar men left their game and
came around him with questions and
exclama- ions : How well he was look
ing! Going abroad had agreed with
liirn—he was browner and heavier!
“Really, you’re in splendid shape,
old chap! Tell us what you’ve been
doi-.g to get all this muscle,” said
‘Charley,’ feeling of York’s arm.
“Come up to my den and dine with
u=, and you can bear all about it,” said
York's guide, whom he now Imard ad
dressed as ‘Harvey.’ “Come right on,
dinner’s waiting.”
They followed him up a flight of
stairs and into a suite of handsomely
furnished apartments—a sitting room
that was bedroom as well, the folding-
bed seeming to be only a richly carved
and mirror-pannelled cabinet. Beyond
it was a cosy dining room, where a
table set with glass and silver, tall white
celery in cut-glass stands, and as pray
of long-stemmed roses in a vase looked
inviting under the ga?-light. A well-
dressed waiter, who stood by the table,
tray in hand, announced that dinner
was ready to be served. The parry of
four seated themselves at the table and
were at once served with hot, clear
soup, followed by oysters on the half
shell, wild duck, roast mutton, wine,
and all the accessories of a good din
ner.
York enjoyed this, the first square
meal he had had in some time. Con
versation was desultory while the
serious business of eating went on, but
when the cloth was removed, and
cigars and liquors brought, the talk
grew more animated, the men trying
to give Y'ork an idea of the haps and
mishaps that had befallen their “set”
since he went away. York, who drank
but liitle, did not betray his ignorance
of the people they criticised and com
mented on. He caught every cue he
could, and for the rest he listened
laughed and responded in non-com
mittal monosyllables.
Yow and then he caught a name he
knew through having read of its owner
in the papers as prominent iri the
social world. Presently the name of
Gertrude Danforth was mentioned
half casually. York saw the men
glance at him—a quick look of furtive
curiosity. He wondered at it. The
young fellow called Charley, heated
little with the wine he had drunk
leaned across the table and said :
“See here, Van Zandt, tell us the
truth about the Danforth matter
There were a dozen rumors after you
flew off on that tangent to Europe in
stead of getting married as Grundy
had booked you to do. Is the engage
ment broken off for good ? They say
the fair Gertrude still wears your ring
though she never mentions your name
or says a syllable about the way things
stand between you.”
“I can only emulate her discretion,”
Van Zandt said.
“And you won’t give us a hint!”
“T think not.”
York’s manner was perfection. He
smiled with his handsome eyes and
spoke graciously, but his mouth was
set in an expression of dignified reti
cence.
“Van Zandt is right,” interposed
Harvey. “It wouldn’t be honorable in
him to speak of his relations to Miss
Danforth—and it’s nobody’s business
besides. The papers—Town Chatter
particularly—did a mean thing to men
tion it. it must have annoyed Gertrude
Danforth; she’s as proud as any
duchess 1”
“What did Town Chatter say?”
“What! you didn’t see it? I’m sorry
I spoke of it, then—thought you knew
all about the rumors. Why, the Chat
ter gave the gossip—all sides of it;
how it was said by one clique that Miss
Danforth had quarreled with you on
account of some wild oats she heard of
your sowing; how others whispered
chat her father had broken off the
match because he thought you were
running jour business on an unsafe
schedule; others declared that you had
jilted Mi s Danforth—that you had
never cared for her, but only for her
money. Oh, the usual rubbishy scan
dal—not worth a minute’s bothering
over! We’ll talk about something
more entertaining. What did you do,
old man, while you were away to fill
you out so well? Did you go in for
hunting, or try ranching, or look
around among the mines?”
“A little of all three,” York an
swered, and he was presently telling
an exciting experience he had had
when hunting—not in Australia, but
in California, as it happened. But he
did not mention the locality, and they
thought he was talking of the antipodal
reg on
A mining incident followed. York
was a good story-teller, and he had
any number of Western adventures at
his tongue’s end. He entertained the
little company so well that the two
young men started when the tiny clock
on the mantel struck eight. They both
had engagements at that hour—one to
take a young lady and her chaperon to
the opera, another to attend a recep
tion in Harlem.
“I’d rather, by long odds, stay and
hear your stories, Van Zandt,” said the
latter. “These receptions are a great
bore—same old set, same old jokes and
songs and recitations, same poor
p n ch and ice cream—insipid as a
d butante. Sorry to say good night;
but Mrs. Brllew made me promise to
come earl;., and I owe her the civility.”
When they were gone, Harvey and
Van Zandt finished the bottle before
them, Harvey drinking the greater
part. York preserved his caution and
watchfulness. He was still suspicious,
though he had begun to think it was a
practical joke instead of a confidence
scheme they were playing on him. He
felt proud of his having held his hand
so well. They had been disappointed
if they expected an opportunity to
laugh at his expense. Still they had
showed no sign of chaffing. It was a
mystery.
Harvey, well warmed with liquor,
grew very friendly. At last h-* laid
his arm affectionately about Y'ork’s
shoulder.
“Old fellow,” he said,“you know I’ve
always liked you. I felt worse than
you did when you got hit in your ven
ture that time. I was hit myself, as
you know; but I didn’t hate it half as
bad as having made you bark up the
wrong tree. I’ve always wanted to
make it up to you, and right now's
my chance. I’ll let you in on the
ground floor in a dead-open-and-shut-
thing. Y'ou- must keep it quiet, of
course. The same old set that formed
the other syndicate are at it again.
We’ve got a corner now that all the
beast in creation can’r knock the bot
tom out of. It’s no kite-flying, as you’ll
see.”
And then the broker—was he really
a broker, or was it all a sham?—pro
ceeded to explain to York that the
stock of the Bellingham Coal and Iron
Mines, which was “flat” at present,
was bound, in a few days to go up sud
denly and greatly, as information had
been received that large and enor
mously rich veins of both iron and coal
had been struck. The effect would be,
with a liitle judicious working up, to
balloon the stock to tip top prices.
York listened and admired the plaur
sibility of the scheme; at the same time
he felt pretty sure that all this was a
part of the trick, or the joke, with
which these men bad been amusing
themselves, and he thought, “I’ll hu
mor it on, L won’t show the verdant.”
Harvey made an end of his explana
tion bv saving:
“And now, old man, give me your
order. How many shares in the Bel
lingham shall I buy for you—ten, fif
teen, twenty?”
“Fifty will do,” Van Zandt said, and
coolly flipped off the ashes of his ci
gar.
“Whew!” whistled the broker in
amazement. Then he gave Van Zandt
a keen look. “Yothing small about
you.” he said. “So you’re not a bit
shaky at the knees, in spite of that in
sinuation in Town ChalterV
“Tovm ChaW r be hanged !” said Y'ork,
carelessly. “I don’t care a rap what
curs bark at my heels. I’m all right.”
“Ohyl don’t doubt you’re all solid,”
said the other quickly; “but fifty
shares is rather a big order.”
“Make it a hundred if you like.”
“Thanks. Fifty will do for the pres
ent, and”—hesitatingly—“same col
lateral, I suppose?”
“Same, and more besides, if you want
it,” said Van Zandt, who only half
understood these terms, for he had
never been on ’Change but once in his
life, and that was in San Francisco,
where he had sat in the gallery for
half an hour, stunned .by the roar and
wrangle of the seeming madmen on
floor below him.
But he was playing a bluff game now,
just for the fun of the thing. He be
lieved these fellows must be chaffing
him for their diversion, and he was de
termined to carry it through in a way
that would give them no chance to
laugh at his greenness. As for his
having entered into a bona-fide Wall
Street speculation, he had no idea of
such a thing, and yet he would have
rather liked the daring of it. For a
fellow who hadn’t twenty dollars in
his pocket, and no prospects under the
sun, to go into a game involving hun
dreds of thousands, had about it a
reckless audacity that was fascinating.
Even this sham transaction had its
charm. His spirits were high, his eyes
sparkled, but his manner remained
cool and carelessly self-controlled.
Harvey was deeply impressed.
“I’ll see you through,” he said. “Yo
need to say a word about margin or
collateral, that’s all right.”
Van Zandt nodded, and went on
smoking.
Where did you propose to spend the
evening, Van?” asked his friend.
“Yowhere in particular—in my own
rooms, I suppose.”
He smiled to himself as he said
rooms,” remembering the little cuddy
at the top of the somewhat decayed
lodging house on Fourteenth street.
“Well, your den is a deuced cosy
place to spend the evening in. By ihe
way, I saw your janitor only yester
day, and he asked rather anxiouslj
about when you were coming back.
But you can find a livelier way of
passing your first evening in town.
See here, I’ve just thought of it. How
ard gave me two tickets to see his new
play at the Fifth Avenue. Shall we
drop in? We’ll be in time for the ast
acts. The play’s a clever burlesque on
Wall street, I m told. 1 ’
“I should like to see it,” York said,
and the two got up and put on their
hats and gloves.
“I wonder where the point of this
joke comes in?” said Van Zandt to
himself as they walked out of the
brightly lighted club-room into the
street. “I haven't felt it pierce me
yet.”
CHAPTER V.
MORE UNKNOWN FRIENDS—IS GERTRUDE
DANFORTH THE LADY OF THE RING ?
The curtain had fallen upon the first
act of the comedy when the Californian
and liis new friend entered the thea
ter. Harvey gave his opera-glass to
Van Zandt, saying:
‘•You’ll see some familiar faces here,
I imagine.”
York swept- the well-filled audito
rium with the glass. Every face was
strange to him. He lowered the glass.
“You are being recognized,” Harvey
said.
It really seemed that he was. Sev
eral lorgnettes were leveled'at him;
old
the
was
several pairs of eyes were looking in
his direction; their owners were bow
ing, smiling. Was it t>* him? He ac
knowledged th-* greeting mechanically.
His bewilderment increased. What
could it mean?
“There’s Mrs. Hugh Lancey, your
old platonic, in the box to the right,”
said his companion. “She is bowing
to you, Van.”
York turned his attention to the box
on the right and saw seated in it a fine-
looking woman dressed in red, with a
rope of pearls about her plump neck.
By her side sat a slim young girl
gowned in white.
“She is motioning us to come to her,”
Harvey said, as the red-robed Juno
gave a little enticing flirt to her fan of
white feathers. “You will go, of
course? That’s her young daughter
with her. She was at school in Paris
when you went away. Pretty little
bud. I suppose she'll come out this
season.”
He had got uff and was making his
way through the rows of orchestra
chairs. Van Zandt followed. He had
read of Mrs. Hugh Lancey in the cos-
sip of the doings of fashionable Yew
York. He knew of her as the brilliant
wife of a millionaire banker, old
enough to be her father. Yow he saw
her bo"w to him with eager recognition.
He heard her spoken of as his “pla
tonic.” Was he in a dream ?
Suddenly his companion stopped,
turned around, and then whispered :
“I see Major Danforth has just en
tered Mrs. Lancey’e box. Do you ob
ject to meeting him ?”
“Yo, why should I ?” Y'ork returned.
“Oh, I didn’t know hut there might
be some feeling between you on his
niece’s account, you know. He’s de
voted to her, and he's a spirited
chap.”
The next instant they were at
door of Mrs. Laneey’s box. She
talking to the distinguished-looking
man who had come in a moment be
fore. Major Danforth Harvey hail
called him. She turned io York with
sparkling eyes and outstretched hands.
“Welcome, wanderer! When did
you come home ?” she said.
Before York could answer he saw
her glance at Major Danforth, and a
shade of embarrassment fall over her
cordial face. Major Danforth bad
stepped a little back; he stood with his
arms folded, a look of haughty dis-
p easure on his face. York met his
eye; it flashed a glance of scorn, and
then the major, bowing with perfect
grace to Mrs. Lancey, turned and left
the box.
Mrs. Lancey had a heightened color,
Harvey looked annoyed. Y'ork alone
was cool. This little scene was only a
part of the queer comedy he seemed to
be acting.
The lady recovered herself in a mo
ment, introduced her daughter, asked
her visitors to be seated, and told Y'ork
he had not answered her query as to
when he had arrived. Then, while
Harvey was admiring' the young girl’s
orchids, Mrs. Lancey leaned nearer to
York and said :
“TV hat an unfortunate contretemps,
your meeting Major Danforth in my
box. I knew how he felt toward you
Gertrude is his idol, you know. She
will have all his money some day, in
addition to her own. She will be one
of our richest heiresses, though she
doesn’t need money to make her at
tractive. She has everything else.
Ah, you queer boy, what you have lost
m losing Gertrude Danforth 1”
“It is fate,” said York, feeling the
necessity of saying something. Her
eyes were on him, searching his.
“We make our own fate,” she re
turned. “It seemed a particularly
h fppy f&te lor you to be the husband
of Gertrude Danforth. Everybody
thought it a match that promised io
brilliantly. Everybody wundered
vvhen it was broken off so suddenly
after the engagement had been an
nounced in the papers. Why it was
broken off was a puzzle then and has
been all the past year. I would think
it wa-t only a lover’s quarrel, which
might be made up, if l didn’t know
Gertrude Danforth. Yet she is still
friends with your mother—the best of
friends. I saw them driving fti the
park together two months ago, just be
fore your mother went South for her
health.”
“My mother!”
York uttered the exclamatio’n un
wittingly.
“How was my mother looking?” he
added, recovering himself.
me
, ba(J ly. It was the first ti
she had been out since she
You knew of her illness di.inV 111
She wrote you about Tt
Have you heard from her lately ™ Se?
* ? l v T ery lately,” York answered
Miss Danforth has also been aw*
as you know, perhaps. She and
father went to see her married sisr
in San Francisco. Oh, hy the w ^
was just about to ask Major DanfW 1
concerning his brother.' The // !
said this morning that he was o ^of
those who were hurt in a recent acci
dent on the Lmon Pacific railunv
not seriously hurt, but enough to i?
iay his journey home. What a nit!'
my dear York, that you were not
hand at the time of the accident v
say you came home by the overlain
route. If you had only happened to
he on the same tram with the Dan
forths, what a chance to play the nVrt
of rescuer to the father, thus winning
ihe daughter’s gratitude and healin*
the breach between you.” 8
“I don’t think the breach
healed so easily,” Y'ork said.
lie was surprised at himself f 0P
speaking so quietly. IIi s head was in
a whirl over the strange coincidences
that s-emed to be gathering
him.
would be
mi , -> nbout
There was no longer a doubt bur
that Miss Danforth was the “Gertrude”
of the railway accident in which he
had figured—the owner of the riu* j n
his vest pocket engraved whh her
namejand his own initials. If she had
broken with the giver of that ring why
did she still wear the token of emble
ment? What a queer experience^ was
this! Or was it all a dream? H e f e ]f
like laughing aloud to break the spell
But the perfume of Mrs. Laneey’s
fan of snowy feathers had somethin*
soothing in it. And Mrs. Lancey’s
smile—it was very kindly, it was flat
tering, even caressing/ She leaned
near to him, for the curtain had risen
now and she had to whisper.
“So you think the breach won’t be
easily closed ? Well, you don’t seem
heart-broken about it. T never saw
you look so well. I declare 1 didn’t
know you at first. Y'ou look younger,
fresher—more as if you enjoyed life!
Y'ou w-re getting awfully jailed and
blase before you went away. You
must come to see me soon, and tell me
where you have been and what you
have been doing.”
Y'ork and his friend of the club re
mained in Mrs. Lancey’s box by her
invitation until the play was over.
Then they accompanied her and her
daughter to her carriage, and said
good-bye, promising soon to call.
Harvey asked bis companion to go
in somewhere and have supper. York
declined, saying he was tired after his
journey; he would go to his apart
ments.
“I’ll go with you, old man, and see
you safe in your den,” said the other.
“Y'ou say you didn’t write to any one
that you were coming? They’re not
looking for you, then; and if your
room is not aired and all that, why,
come and turn in with me tonight.”
Y'ork assented. Then-* would hero
harm in carrying on the joke a little
further, though he now saw that it was
not a joke played upon him, hut one
that he was—unintentionally—playing
upon these Yew Y'ork strangers who
had taken him to be one of their set.
This must be the way of it else Mrs.
Lancey and the others who had spoken
to him in the theater would not have
given him the same cordial recogni
tion that he met from the club men.
But how strange that his double
should have the same name as himself
as well as the same face!
Well, he would let the mask drop
now that he understood the matter,
though the temptation was strong to
keep it up awhile longer. There was
something piquantly diverting, almost
thrilling in the situation—in having
the friendships, the eccentricities, the
love affairs of a rich young man about
town grafted upon his own quiet,
eventless life. There were some myste
ries, too, he would like to solve, par
ticularly the one about his double’s
engagement to Miss Danforth. Was
it broken off, and what was the cause
of the quarrel?
But even if he should conclude to
keep up the comedy awhile longer, he
must not let his assumption of an
other’s identity extend to business.
He must recali that order to the broker,
empowering him to buy fifty shares of
mining stock. He would recall it now
as they walked on to his rooms.
But his intention to do this was
frustrated. Harvey ran across a man
he knew, whoslipped his hand through
the broker’s arm and kept b s de them
the entire way. When they arrived at
the handsome, ornate building i fl
which, as it seemed, Y'ork’s bachelor
apartments were situated, Harvey rang
up the janitor, w T ho recognized an
Zandt at once, and brought out the
keys to his rooms.
“You’ll find yer ’partments aired
and put to right's, sir,” said the jani
tor. “You didn’t write word you was
cornin’, but yefur man, Jack Martin, he
see you goin’ into the Hoffman this
arternoon, and he gits the keys to put
things in shape. Martin’s le n stay
ing round here, doin’ for Mr. Melton
and some o f t‘ e other gents while you
was away, wairin’ for you to come
back. He’s looking for you to-night,
and he’ll answer yer ring.”
(Continued on page 16.)