Wizard Will, the Wonder Worker

"But no not dead, alas! but alive, cynical, sneering, cold-hearted, cruel he stood before me.

"Dressed well, wearing diamonds, yet a begger for gold.

"Need I tell you that it was my husband?

"Need I tell you that he had deceived me in his death, and told me that he had purposely done so, that I might, by my beauty – such were his words – win a rich husband and then he could force from me gold to keep my secret?

"Such was his mission to me, and he demanded a large sum that he might dissipate it in his luxurious life.

"He promised to go from me, and never return if I gave him the sum he demanded.

"If I refused, he said that he would go to you, and you, for honour's sake, to save scandal, would buy him off.

"Again, he said he would tell you that I knew he was alive and yet married you.

"So, in my grief, I begged him to give me time for thought, though I then knew what my course would be.

"He gave me a week to consider, and, confident that I would yield, he left.

"He judged me by his own guilty heart and felt safe in his threats to divulge the secret of his being still alive.

"When he was gone I fell into a swoon upon the floor, and there Richards found me when he came to put out the lights.

"The maid revived me, and I passed a night of bitter agony; but I was decided as to what I should do, and I told the servants that I had heard bad news, and must go away, perhaps to be gone a long time.

"I did not care to say more, that I would never return, for your sake.

"Then I began to get ready, and that day Pearl returned home.

"The next day Will came back from his cruise and I told my children that we must go.

"I told them that it was no quarrel, no wrong of one of us against the other, only duty forced me away.

"I had in my purse something over a hundred dollars, which you had given me for charity, you remember, and I devoted it to charity to myself, for we go as poor as we came to you otherwise, and it is because I would not feel right in taking from you one dollar when I know that man lives.

"To-morrow we leave for New York in the early train, and I shall go to your city mansion and get our old traps there, and place in the Safe Deposit the jewellery and other valuables you have given to us.

"There is one souvenir I keep, the ring you and I supposed to be our wedding ring.

"That I shall wear, though the lie stares me in the face; but it was placed there in honour in so doing.

"Where I go you will not know, for I shall not wish you to find me, which your heart, I feel, will tempt you to do.

"I go my way as before, to earn our bread by my handiwork, and I am strong now and in good health, after the happiness that has come into my life, and I can bear much.

"Heaven bless you, will be my prayer and the prayer of my children, Richard, for you have been to us all in all, and to give you up is a pang that cuts deep into the hearts of us all.

"Farewell, Richard, and ever believe in the love, though it be in shackles, of

"Yours unhappily,"Ruby Cluett."

Such was the letter that Colonel Dick Ivey read, and it was no wonder that he felt deeply the blow that had fallen upon him.

For a long time he remained in silent grief; and then he raised his bowed head, and already suffering had made his stern, handsome face haggard.

"She is as pure as an angel, and she shall not leave me.

"I will find her, cost what it may, and to-morrow I will go to the city, and set the wheels of the Secret Service in motion to find her and her children.

"Then she shall get a divorce from this wretch, for, innocent thing that she is, she does not know that she can readily do so, under the plea of desertion.

"If not, why, I'll have to make a widow of her and then marry her;" and the face of the colonel proved that he meant what he said, while, after a moment, he added:

"It strikes me that a man who has been such a wretch as this fellow is, has done that which would place him behind prison bars, and perhaps stretch his neck, so I'll put the detectives upon his track, and see what they can discover of his past career;" and with this determination Colonel Ivey sought the supper room, now cheered with the thought that his separation from those he loved was but temporary.

CHAPTER XI. – A Rebuff

SCHUYLER CLUETT waited patiently for the time allowed his wife, in which to write to him, to pass, and no letter came.

What could it mean? Had she lost his address? Did she intend to defy him?

These questions chased each other through his mind over and over again, and he could find no answer.

But he waited another day beyond the allotted time, and then determined to solve the mystery.

To do this he would go to the house of Colonel Ivey.

He first sought the residence of the colonel in the city, and found it closed up.

This proved that the family had not returned to town.

So he started for the country, and in due time reached the station near Soldier's Rest, as the home of the colonel was called.

He took a hack and started for the villa, leaving the vehicle at the gate, while he advanced on foot, having told the driver to wait for him.

It was a lordly place, a grand mansion, surrounded by spacious, ornamental grounds on one side, flower gardens in the rear, a lawn in the front, and a park upon the other side.

The grounds sloped down to the walk, and there were pleasure boats to invite to a sail or a row.

The view from the piazzas was beautiful in the extreme, and altogether a more charming country home could not be found than was Soldier's Rest.

"A place for a gentleman of my taste to live, this," said Schuyler Cluett, as he walked up the grand path to the mansion.

"By jove! a bright idea strikes me, and I hope I am not too late to carry it out.

"Let me see: if I should keep in the back-ground, that is, out of sight, and get rid of this gallant colonel, that is, let him meet with some accident to cause his death, why my wife would be his heiress, of course.

"Then I could come in, and after half a year's mourning I could force her to marry me, for appearances' sake, and I'd have all.

"I was a trifle too fast in appearing as I did, and not thinking of this little game before.

"Now it may be too late, she may have told the colonel about me, as she has not appeared, and he may simply back her up in getting a divorce from me, which she can do.

"Well, here I am, and there he is.

"Now I must put a bold face upon the matter and survey the fort to see if I can take it."

He had dressed himself up in his best style, and Colonel Ivey, seeing a well-dressed stranger approaching, arose to meet him.

The colonel had that noon returned from the city, where he could find no clue to the where abouts of Ruby and her children; but he had set the best detectives on the track and was hopeful of soon discovering them.

Bowing to the visitor, the colonel advanced to meet him.

Schuyler Cluett bowed politely and asked:

"Is this the home of Colonel Ivey?"

"It is, sir, and I am Richard Ivey, at your service.

"Be seated, pray, or will you enter the house?"

"Thank you, sir; my name is Cluett, sir, and I am an old friend of your wife, and have called to see her, being in the neighbourhood."

"Indeed, sir; I am really glad to meet you, Mr. Cluett, so be seated, pray, for it is pleasanter here than indoors."

Schuyler Cluett sat down. But he hardly knew what to say.

It seemed evident, from the colonel's manner, he thought, that his wife had kept her secret, for he did not appear to be known.

"I hope Mrs. Ivey is well, sir?" he volunteered.

"Well, sir, as to that I cannot just say, as she is not at home; but I hope so."

"Indeed! she is absent then?"

"Yes, sir, she has gone far away, she and her children, and, as you are an old friend of hers, I do not mind telling you that it is on account of a grand scamp whom she once married."

"No!"

"Yes, Mr. Cluett; she was infatuated in her girlhood by some wretch whom she ran off with and married, and soon found him out to be a worthless vagabond, a gambler and all that was bad.

"He robbed her, deserted her, and sent her word, through a confederate in guilt, that he had been killed, and so believing him to be dead, she married me.

"But he turned up during my absence West, tried to get her to rob me, to pay him off from telling the secret of his still being alive, and she, too noble to do so, fled from my home, from me, and has gone far away, while I am left alone."

"But you can find her, sir?" eagerly asked Cluett.

"Yes, I hope to do so, for, I'll tell you a secret."

"Yes, Colonel Ivey."

"I have the detectives at work, tracking down this rascally husband, and I have found out enough about him already, to give her a divorce, by sending him to State's Prison."

"Oh, sir, can you do this?" and Schuyler Cluett turned deadly pale.

"Oh yes, I hope to; and more, for I don't mind telling you, my dear Mr. Cluett, as you are my wife's friend, but you must keep the secret, that there was a mysterious murder some time ago, for the murderer cannot be found.

"But this husband – I do wish I could recall his name – "

"Raymond, sir."

"Yes, Raymond, that's the name, thank you.

"Well, he was in the vicinity when this murder was committed and I think men can be bribed to swear that he was guilty, you know and I'll give a fortune to buy a jury up, so that he can be hanged, and – but why do you rise, sir, for surely you are not going?" and the colonel looked up with surprise, as Cluett arose as though to depart.

"Yes, sir, I must go, for I just recall an important case I have to try, as I am a lawyer, colonel, and your story of your wife's former husband recalled it to my memory."

"But you will remain my guest, sir, for the night at least, and I'll go up to the city with you in the morning, as I will have this rascal arrested at once, and I think the law will make short work of him."

"It should, sir, it should, and I have no doubt it will; but good-by, Colonel Ivey, good-by, sir," and Schuyler Cluett hastened away from the mansion, reached his waiting hack, and taking out his watch said:

"Driver you have just twenty minutes to catch the Express up to the city, and if you do it I'll give you a ten-dollar bill extra."

"I'll do it, sir," replied the driver, and the horses were sent along the highway at a pace that surprised them, as their usual gait was a jog.

And looking after the rapidly disappearing vehicle, Colonel Ivey muttered to himself, as his face wore a grim smile:

"Well, I think I frightened him so that he'll hunt a hiding-place in the far West, and I only wish I did know that he was deserving of the penitentiary; but I'll telegraph the detective chief to have men at the station to meet him and see just where he goes, and what he does, so as to be prepared for him should he remain in New York," and entering his library Colonel Ivey wrote a long dispatch to the chief of the detective service, telling him to have men on the watch for Schuyler Cluett, giving a full description of the man, and by what train to expect him.

This message was then sent post-haste to the station-agent to rush through with all dispatch, and Colonel Ivey felt relieved at having, as he believed, got rid of Ruby's rascally husband, from whom she could now easily get a divorce, under the plea of desertion and non-support for years.

CHAPTER XII. – The Boy Captive

LET me beg the kind reader, who has followed me through my story thus far, to recall an important personage who was left a prisoner in the hands of a band of wicked men who were evidently hiding from the officers of the law.

In that boy captive the reader has doubtless recognized Will Raymond, for his mother had not taught him the name of his father, Schuyler Cluett.

When he had been addressed upon the street by a gentleman, and sent on an important mission, he had been entrapped, for his face and age just suited a purpose that was to be carried out through him.

What that purpose was will soon be made known.

The time of Will's capture was some months after the flight of the mother with her children from the elegant country mansion of Colonel Richard Ivey.

So well had Mrs. Raymond, as I must now again call her, concealed herself, that the police and detectives, put upon her track by Colonel Ivey, had been unable to find her where abouts, and it was believed that she had left New York for another place.

In an humble home, in a cheaper quarter of the city, the poor woman had found an abiding-place, for it could not be called a home.

The rooms were but three in number, and not so pleasant as those where she had lived in poverty before; but they were kept scrupulously clean, and were not uncomfortable.

As soon as she was fully settled, Mrs. Raymond paid her rent for six months in advance; then she laid in a store of provisions, and purchasing painting materials, again began to paint little pictures for sale, for she had but a small sum left of that which she had brought with her, and she must begin to earn more, she knew.

But the shock of her husband's return, as though from the grave, had been a severe one, and she felt that she was by no means as well as she could wish.

Gradually her nerves failed her, the mainsprings of life, and she became almost a confirmed invalid, unable to do but little.

Will and Pearl had again began attending the nearest public school, but, as the spring drew near and Mrs. Raymond's health failed her more and more, her little daughter had remained at home with her, while her brave boy had given up his studies to earn what money he could, and this was but little, hardly enough to give them food, and, but for Mrs. Raymond having paid the rent, it would not have been sufficient to meet all demands, moderate as they were.

It was while Will was skirmishing around in search of a stray penny to earn, that he had struck what had appeared to him a "bonanza," in the promise of a couple of dollars for delivering a letter and keeping his mouth shut, at the same time afflicting himself with loss of memory, as the one who paid him for his alleged services had demanded that he should.

When, therefore, Will found himself a prisoner, the reader can well imagine his feelings.

Brave boy that he was, his first thought was of his sick mother's distress at his absence, and his second of himself.

It flashed upon him, from the words of Jerry, the Night Hawk, the secret manner of his gaining admission, the letter which had led him into a trap, that he was meant for some mysterious purpose of villainy.

The room in which he found himself had but one door, that by which he had entered, and the ceiling ran up with the peaked roof, in which were skylights for light and air.

It was a large room, occupying one side of the house, excepting where the little ante-chamber, or hall-way was taken off, and about the sides were baths such as one sees in a steamboat's cabin.

A cupboard was in one end of the room, filled with dishes, and next to it was a dumb-waiter that came up from the lower depths somewhere.

On the opposite side a door was opened to what appeared to be another cupboard, but in which Will saw at a glance a ladder, leading to an open skylight above.

In the centre of the room was a large table with chairs about it, and seated in various attitudes about it were a dozen men, who scowled viciously upon the boy as he was dragged into their presence by Jerry, the Night Hawk.

But Will, in spite of his perilous position, kept up a brave manner.

"What did ther kid come here for?" asked a man with a scowling face.

"Captain Cruel sent him, and writes that he'll do for the little job to play on the Philadelphia man whose son died on our hands, and thus cut us out o' the reward," said Night Hawk Jerry, who seemed to be leader of the band of ruffians.

"He looks it sart'in, and I thought it were Billy come ter life ag'in when I seen his face; but will he do it?"

"He'll have to, Jack, or – " and the look and action of Night Hawk Jerry were most significant, and did not escape the eyes of Will Raymond.

CHAPTER XIII. – Put to the Test

BEFORE more could be said by any of the band, a bell rang over in the dumb-waiter, and two men at once stepped to the cupboard and began to place dishes upon the table, preparatory to having supper.

Will was told to sit down on a chair, and the coming meal, rather than the boy prisoner, seemed to occupy the thoughts of the rude gathering. By the time that the table was set, with a plate, knife, fork, teacup and spoon for each, and a dish of butter and large bowl of sugar in the centre, a second ring came at the dumb-waiter, and up from the depths below appeared the supper.

The two men, whose duty it seemed, put the supper on the table, and it was by no means a repast to be refused, for there was hot coffee, milk, hot biscuit, steak, potatoes and preserves.

Will was told to "Take a seat youngster, and pitch in, for you don't know how soon yer rations will be cut short."

He had eaten but a light breakfast, and nothing since, so he obeyed the injunction with a gusto, winning the admiration of the men at his pluck in not losing his appetite when his fate hung so in the balance of uncertainty.

But Will had made up his mind that though he was in a tight place, he would not despair, but find some way to get out, and the means of doing so did not worry him until the time came for action.

He had read the papers, and he knew that almost under the eyes of the police there were bands of evil men who would rob and kill without mercy to gain gold.

That he had fallen into the hands of some such wicked men he did not doubt; but he did not despair of working out his own salvation in some way, when he was assured just what their game was that they intended to win by playing him as a trump card.

So Will ate his supper with apparent relish, and rising, thanked them politely and resumed his former seat.

"You've been well raised, boy," said Jerry. "What is your name?"

"Will Raymond, sir," said the boy, returning to his old name, for while with the colonel he had taken that of Ivey, at his request.

"What do you do?"

"Anything I can earn money at to support my sick mother and little sister."

"Well, how would you like to become a rich man's son?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"The captain sent you here because you resembled somebody, didn't he?"

"He gave me a letter to bring to you, and said you would give me two dollars for doing the errand."

"Well, that was a bait to get you here; but if you do as I say, you'll do better by far than make two dollars."

"What must I do?"

"Do you see this photograph?" and he held up a picture before Will of a small boy, perhaps seven years of age.

"Yes, sir."

"This photograph looks just as you did six years ago, and then your name was Willie Rossmore. Your home was in Baltimore, or rather near it, and these are photographs of the place, and a handsome one it was.

"You went out in the grounds, just here, running away from your nurse, and two men, passing along the highway in a buggy, took you with them.

"They carried you far away, treated you well, and took you to a farm in the West, where one day I found you, and you told me your story and I immediately recognized you as a boy stolen years ago, and whose photograph I had often seen published in the papers.

"Your father, Mr. Rossmore, is a very rich man, and he has offered fifty thousand dollars for your return, and I will get it.

"Now, my boy, I wish you to study these photographs of your old home, and here is the name of the servants who were at the house then, and your nurse was an old coloured woman, Auntie Peggy.

"These are the clothes you had on when you were stolen; they are ragged now, for you wore them a long time, and when you got others you kept these. You had this ring on your forefinger then, but you can wear it now on your left hand little finger – see, it just fits."

"What has become of the real little boy that was stolen?" asked Will, quietly.

The men all exchanged peculiar glances with each other, and one said: "Tell him, Jerry, so that he'll know we won't stand any nonsense."

"Well, he would not behave as we wished him to, and he would remember too much, and so we dared not take him back to get the reward, you see."

"And is he dead?"

"You've hit it, he is, for one day he left our camp, as we were crossing the prairie in Nebraska, not very many miles from Fort McPherson, and we found him lying under a solitary tree, mighty near dead from starvation; and he died, and we buried him there, cutting his name into the tree, as a monument, as any emigrant folks would who had lost a young one.

"Poor little fellow, he had better have done as you wished, and so been able to get home."

"Boy, you've got wisdom above your years, and you'll play our little game for us with a handful of trumps and a card or two up your sleeve, I can tell you.

"I guess you've been nipped by hunger, and wish a soft thing of it for life, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you'll talk our way, won't you?"

"Oh, yes, sir; only it will be very sad for my poor mother and sister to lose me."

"No, for you can write them that you had a chance to go West, and I'll take the letter and some money to them, and you bet we'll keep them from want and send them lots of things, while if you don't like it where you go, you can just skip out after you've got together a nice little sum of money, for we don't care so long as we get the reward for your return, and you shall have five thousand of that, for I'll keep you posted where we are, and you can have the money any time you call for it."

"This looks fair, sir; but I hate to leave my mother and little sister, though I do want to make money."

"Well, you write your mother a letter, and I'll see that she gets it to-morrow, and I'll put a cool fifty in it for her, too.

"Now, write your letter, and then study over those photographs, this list of names, and the lesson I have here for you," and Jerry handed Will various slips of paper.

"Now, lad," he continued, "if you play this game right, you'll get all I say; but if you play us false, you'll be knifed sure, so just bear that in mind."

"I don't wish to die, and I'd rather be rich than poor, if I can take care of my mother and sister, and they don't find out I am deceiving them."

"They'll never know it, lad, and it was a lucky find the captain made in you, for you look just what we want, and have got the sense to play the game through.

"I tell you, though, we had a time with Willie Rossmore, up to his death three years ago, for we had to travel about with him, hide him, watch him, and were going to take him to an Indian camp to live for a year or so to make him forget, when he ran off and died on the prairie. But you look like him exactly, though you are older by a year or so, but that don't make any difference. Now there's a pen and ink, and here's your lesson to study, while we play a game of cards."

Will sat down at a shelf that served as a desk, and began to "study his lesson," as Night Hawk Jerry had called it.

He wrote a letter to his mother, and at last the men began to turn in, each one going to his bunk, while the boy was also given one, and crawling into the berth, appeared to be sound asleep, while the last man retiring put out the lamp, and only the light from the stars, twinkling through the skylights, pervaded the large room, and the sonorous breathing of the sleepers soon showed that, guilty beings though they were, no twinges of conscience kept them awake.

CHAPTER XIV. – Will Plays his little Game

LYING in his little bunk, which was an upper one, Will Raymond did not go to sleep.

He saw the men drop off one by one, from their card playing, he watched the last one up draw on the ropes, to raise the skylights and let in more air, and, as he came to the one near him, he feared he was going to see if he was asleep, so he closed his eyes and breathed hard.

But the man drew on the rope, that raised the skylight, some ten feet above Will's head, and then putting out the lamp he went to bed.