Nelson The Newsboy

When Sam Pepper went out he wore a big slouch hat and a coat which he had not donned for years. He usually wore a derby hat, and his general appearance surprised the newsboy not a little.

"He acts as if he wanted to be disguised," thought the boy. "Something is up, sure."

Then of a sudden he remembered the talk he had had with Pepper about robbing an old man—the man who had in some way been connected with his father's downfall, if Pepper's story was true. Was it possible Pepper was going to undertake the job that very night, and alone?

"I believe he is!" thought Nelson. "And if that's so, I'll follow him!"

With the boy, to think was to act, and in a few minutes he was prepared to follow Sam Pepper. The man had locked the front door and taken the key with him. Nelson slipped out of a rear window and fastened the window from the outside by means of a nail shoved into a hole in a corner—a trick he had learned some time before.

When the boy came out on the street he ran up the thoroughfare for a couple of blocks, and was just in time to see Sam Pepper making his way up the stairs of the elevated railroad station. When the train came along Pepper entered the front car, and our hero took the car behind it. Nelson buttoned up his coat and pulled his hat far down over his eyes to escape recognition, but Sam Pepper never once looked around to see if he was being followed.

Leaving the Bowery, the elevated train continued up Third Avenue until Fifty-ninth Street was reached. Here Sam Pepper got off, and Nelson, who was on the watch, did the same. The man descended to the street and walked slowly toward Fifth Avenue. Our hero followed like a shadow. He was now certain that Pepper was bent on the robbery of the place he had mentioned that afternoon.

Mark Horton's residence stood on the avenue, but a few blocks below Central Park. As Sam Pepper had said, there was an alleyway in the rear, with a small iron fence. Beyond was a small courtyard, and here there was a balcony with an alcove window opening into the library. Over the window was a heavy curtain, which the retired merchant sometimes closed when at the safe, so that curious neighbors might not pry into his affairs. But the neighbors were now away on a vacation in Europe—something which Sam Pepper had noted with considerable satisfaction.

It did not take the man long to climb over the iron fence and on to the little balcony. Noiselessly he tried the window, to find it locked. But the catch was an old-fashioned one, and he readily pushed it aside with a blade of his knife. Then he raised the window inch by inch. At last he had it high enough, and he stepped into the room, behind the heavy curtain before mentioned.

Sam Pepper was hardly in the room when something happened to give him a temporary shock. He heard the scratch of a match, and then a gas jet was lit and turned low in the room.

"I've put my foot into it," he groaned. "Maybe I had better git out as fast as I came in."

Cautiously he peeped from behind the curtain, and to his astonishment saw Homer Bulson approach the safe and kneel down before it. He also saw that Bulson was alone, and that the doors to the other parts of the mansion were tightly closed.

"Something is up that's not on the level," he told himself. "This man don't live here."

Scarcely daring to breathe, he watched Homer Bulson work at the combination of the safe. To get the strong box open was not easy, and soon the fashionable young man uttered a low exclamation of impatience.

"I must have it wrong," Pepper heard him say. "Confound the luck! And I wanted that money to-night, too."

At last the safe came open, and Homer Bulson breathed a sigh of satisfaction. With trembling fingers he pulled open one of the upper drawers.

"Found!" he murmured. "I wonder if I have time to read them over, to make sure they are all right? Uncle is a queer stick and he may have made some mistake."

He brought some documents forth and began to unfold them. Then he reconsidered the matter and placed the papers on a chair beside the safe. In a moment more he had found the gilded knob, pressed upon it, and opened the secret compartment at the bottom of the strong box.

The sight that met his gaze caused his eyes to glisten. There were several stacks of ten- and twenty-dollar gold pieces—at least two thousand dollars in all. Without waiting he placed a large handful of the coins in the outer pocket of his coat.

"I won't take it all—it won't be safe," he murmured. "I can get more some other time—if I need it." Then he shut the compartment.

Sam Pepper had seen the gold, and it set his heart to thumping madly. Here was more wealth than he had seen in many a day—right within his reach. Why had not the young man taken it all?

"He's chicken-hearted and a fool," thought Pepper.

A second later a big fly, awakened by the swinging of the curtain and the light, buzzed close to Pepper's ear and caused him to start. At the same moment Homer Bulson glanced up and caught sight of the other's face.

"Who—what—who are you?" stammered Bulson, leaping to his feet.

"Hush!" cried Sam Pepper warningly. "Hush, unless you want to wake up the whole house."

"But who are you, and where did you come from?"

"Never mind about that. Why didn't you take all of the gold from the safe while you were at it?"

"I—er—what do you know of the gold?" stammered Homer Bulson. He was pale and confused.

"I saw you open the safe and take it. Is that your uncle's money?"

"Ye—yes."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"What business is that of yours?"

"I am going to make this job my business."

"You look like a burglar."

"Well, if I am a burglar, you won't give me away, for you are a burglar yourself."

The shot told, and Homer Bulson became paler than before.

"I reckon we might divide up on this job," went on Sam Pepper with a boldness that was astonishing.

"I don't understand."

"Give me half the gold and I won't say anything about this to anybody."

"And if I refuse?"

"If you refuse, perhaps I'll make it mighty unpleasant for you. I know you. You are Homer Bulson, the fashionable nephew of Mark Horton, and the man who expects to come into a good share of his property when he dies."

"And who are you?"

"I am a man who used to be up in the world, but one who is now down on his luck. I want you to help me. If you will, I'll help you."

At this Homer Bulson was a good deal bewildered.

"I don't understand you. I am not of your kind, my man."

At this Sam Pepper gave a contemptuous sniff.

"If you aint, you aint any better," he growled. "Let me tell you I know a thing or two. I didn't come here blindly. I know all about Mark Horton and his niece, and you—and I know a good deal more—about the past. You and that girl expect to get his property. Well, maybe you will, and then, again, maybe you won't."

"And why won't we get his property?" asked Homer Bulson, in deep interest.

"Hush! not so loud, or you'll have the rest of the house down on us," Sam Pepper leaned forward and whispered something into the young man's ear. "There, how do you like that?"

Homer Bulson fell back as if shot.

"You—you speak the truth?" he faltered.

"I do."

"But after all these years! Impossible!"

"It's true, I tell you, and I can prove it—if I want to. But I'm not his friend. Now are you willing to make a deal with me?"

"Yes! yes!" groaned the young man. "First, however, you must prove your words. But that can't be done here. Come to my bachelor apartment, across the way. There we will be perfectly safe."

"All right. But I must have some of that gold first."

"Well, you shall have some—as much as I took, but no more," concluded Homer Bulson, and opened the secret compartment again.

CHAPTER X.

GERTRUDE LEAVES HER HOME

Left to himself in the alleyway, our hero scarcely knew what to do next.

Under ordinary circumstances he would have notified a policeman of what was going on. But he reflected that Pepper had done him many kindnesses in the past, and that it was barely possible the man was not doing as much of a wrong as he imagined.

"I'll wait a while and see what turns up," he soliloquized, and hid himself in a dark corner, where he could watch not only the library window, but also the side alleyway leading to the street in front of the mansion.

Slowly the minutes wore away until Nelson felt certain that Sam Pepper was going to remain inside all night.

"Perhaps something happened to him," he thought. "Maybe he got a fit, or somebody caught him."

He waited a while longer, then, impelled by curiosity, approached the balcony, climbed up, and tried to look into the window of the library.

As he did this the curtain was suddenly thrust aside, and in the dim light he found himself face to face with Gertrude Horton!

He was so astonished that, for the moment, he did not know what to say or do. Gertrude was equally amazed. She quickly raised the window.

"What brought you here?" she questioned. "Did you make the noise I heard a while ago?"

"No, miss. I—er—I just came," stammered our hero. He knew not what to say.

"But I heard a noise. It was that which brought me downstairs. What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if—if your home was safe."

"To see if it was safe?"

"Yes. I was on the street a while ago and a man sneaked in here. Is he around?"

"I saw nobody. But I heard a noise, as I said before. I guess I had better investigate. Did the man look like a thief?"

"He looked like lots of men," answered Nelson noncommittally.

It must be confessed that our hero's head was in a whirl. What had become of Sam Pepper? Was it possible that he had robbed the mansion and made his escape without discovery? And if he was gone, should he expose the man who, good or bad, had cared for him so many years?

Gertrude was looking around for a match, and now she lit the gas and turned it up full. She had scarcely done so when her eyes rested on a ten-dollar gold piece lying in front of the safe.

"A gold piece!" she cried.

"Here is another, miss," returned Nelson, stepping into the room and picking it up from where it had rolled behind a footstool. "Twenty dollars! Gracious!"

"Gertrude! What is the meaning of this?"

The voice came from the hallway, and looking around the girl and our hero saw Mark Horton standing there, clad in his dressing gown and slippers. His face was filled with anger.

"Oh, uncle!" cried the girl. Just then she could say no more.

"So I have caught you, have I?" went on the retired merchant. He turned to our hero. "Who are you, young man?"

"I? I'm Nelson, sir."

"Nelson? Is that your name?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fine company you keep, Gertrude, I must say," sneered Mark Horton. "I would not have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes."

"Why, uncle–"

"Don't talk back to me. I know all about your doings. You wish–" The retired merchant broke off short. "What is that in your hand? A gold piece, as I live! And this young man has another! Ha! you have been at my safe!"

Pale with rage, Mark Horton tottered into the room and clutched Gertrude by the arm.

"Oh, Uncle Mark, let me go!" she gasped in horror.

"To think it has come to this!" groaned the invalid. "My own niece turned robber! It is too much! Too much!" And he sank into an armchair, overcome.

"Hold on, sir; you're making a mistake," put in Nelson.

"Silence, you shameful boy! I know her perhaps better than you do, even though you do come to see her on the sly."

"Me? On the sly?" repeated our hero, puzzled.

"You talk in riddles, uncle," put in Gertrude faintly.

"I know what I am saying. I will not argue with you. How much have you taken from the safe?"

"Nothing," said Gertrude.

"I haven't touched your safe," added our hero stoutly.

"I will soon see." Mark Horton glanced at the window, which was still wide open. "Is anybody else outside?"

"I guess not," said Nelson.

Arising with an effort, the retired merchant staggered to the safe and opened it. Then he opened the secret compartment.

"Gone! At least six hundred dollars stolen!" he muttered. He turned upon both of the others. "What have you done with that gold?"

"Uncle, I have not touched it," sobbed Gertrude.

"This is all I have, and I just picked that up," added our hero and flung the piece on the table, beside that which the girl had picked up.

"I will not believe it!" stormed Mark Horton, more in a rage than ever. He turned to Nelson. "You took that money away and then thought to come back for more. Or perhaps you came back to see Gertrude."

"I am no thief!" cried Nelson. "I never stole in my life."

"You are a thief, and this girl is your accomplice. Stop, did you not go past the house this afternoon?"

"I did, but–"

"And you saw Gertrude?"

"I saw this young lady, but–"

"As I suspected. You planned this thing."

"Oh, Uncle Mark! what are you saying?" sobbed Gertrude. Her heart was so full she could scarcely speak. She had always treated her uncle with every consideration, and to have him turn against her in this fashion cut her to the quick.

"Gertrude, my eyes are open at last. From to-night you leave me!"

"What, going to throw her out of this house—out of her home!" ejaculated Nelson. "Sir, I don't know you, but I think you must be off in your mind."

"I am not so crazy as you imagine. I am sick—nay, I have one foot in the grave. But this shameless girl shall no longer hoodwink me. As soon as daylight comes she shall leave this house, and she shall never set foot in it again."

"But, sir–"

"I will waste no further words on you, young man. Out you go, or I will call a policeman at once."

"Oh, uncle, don't do that!" burst out Gertrude. "I will go away, if you insist upon it."

"I do insist upon it. Pack your things at once. If it were not night I would insist upon your leaving now."

Gertrude looked at him, and then drew herself up with an effort.

"I will go now, I will not wait," she said. "But if ever you need me–"

"I'll not send for you," finished Mark Horton quickly. "I never want to see you again." He turned to our hero. "Are you going, or must I call an officer?" he added harshly.

"I will go," said Nelson. He paused as if wishing to say more, then leaped through the window and disappeared into the darkness of the alleyway.

As our hero left the library by the window, Gertrude left by the hall door. Slowly she mounted the steps to her own room. Once inside, she threw herself on the bed in a passionate fit of weeping. But this did not last long. Inside of half an hour she was packing a traveling case with such things as she absolutely needed.

"I will take nothing else," she told herself. "His money bought them and they shall remain here."

At last her preparations were complete, and she stole downstairs with her traveling case in her hand. She looked into the library, to see her uncle sitting in a heap in the armchair.

"Good-by, Uncle Mark," she said sadly.

"Go away!" he returned bitterly. "Go away!"

He would say no more, and she turned, opened the door to the street, and passed outside. He listened as she hurried down the steps and along the silent street. When he could no longer hear her footsteps he sank back again into the armchair.

"Gone!" he muttered. "Gone, and I drove her away! What a miserable man I am! What a miserable man!" And then he threw himself down again. He remained in the armchair for the rest of the night, weaker than ever, and tortured by an anguish he could not put into words.

CHAPTER XI.

AFLOAT IN NEW YORK

Once out on the street again, Nelson did not know which way to turn or what to do. He was bewildered, for the scene between Gertrude and her uncle had been more than half a mystery to him.

"He suspects her of stealing, but I don't," he told himself bluntly. "Such a girl, with such eyes, would never steal. He wouldn't think so if he was in his right mind. I guess his sickness has turned his brain." And in the latter surmise our hero was partly correct.

Slowly he walked to the end of the block, then, struck by a sudden thought, came back. If the young lady did really come out, he meant to see her and have another talk with her.

The newsboy was still some distance from the mansion when, on looking across the way, he saw the door of the house in which Homer Bulson lived open, and a second later beheld Sam Pepper come out.

"Gracious—Sam!" he cried to himself, and lost no time in hiding behind a convenient stoop. Soon Pepper passed by, and our hero saw him continue on his way along Fifth Avenue until Fifty-ninth Street was reached.

"He's going home," thought Nelson. "I ought to get down there before him. What will he say if he finds me missing?"

He was now more perplexed than ever. What had Sam Pepper been doing in the house in which Homer Bulson lived? Had the man robbed that place, and had he himself made a mistake in regard to the Horton mansion?

"It's too deep for me," he mused. "I'll never get to the bottom of it. But that young lady—hullo, here she comes, sure enough!"

He stepped behind the stoop again and waited. In a moment Gertrude passed him. Evidently the darkness and the strange silence frightened her. When Nelson came out of his hiding place she started back.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Is it you?"

"Yes, miss. I—I was wondering if you would really leave," he answered.

"There was nothing else for me to do."

"He is your uncle?"

"Yes. He is Mark Horton and I am Gertrude Horton, his dead brother's only child."

"He treated you mighty bad for a brother's child."

"My father was poor and Uncle Mark has taken care of me for years. He wanted me to marry my cousin, Homer Bulson, and it made him angry when I refused."

"Homer Bulson!" cried Nelson. "I don't wonder you didn't want to marry him."

"Do you know my cousin?"

"I've met him. He tried to cheat a friend of mine out of a sale of some books. He acted the sneak."

"It seems my uncle's heart has been set on this marriage," went on Gertrude.

"But that didn't give him the right to call you a thief," put in our hero warmly.

"To be sure it did not. But—but—who are you?"

"I'm Nelson."

"You said that before. What is your real name?"

At this Nelson hung his head.

"I don't know what my real name is, Miss Gertrude. They all call me Nelson the Newsboy. I live with a man named Pepper. He keeps a lunch-room on the East Side, and I sell papers for a living. I don't know where I came from."

"It is too bad. But you are better off than I am—you have a home," she added, her eyes filling again with tears.

"Don't you worry. I'll help you all I can," said Nelson sympathetically. "But about this affair of the safe—I can't make head or tail of that."

"Nor can I, Nelson. I came downstairs, having heard some strange noises. But everything seemed to be all right. Then I looked out of the window and saw you."

"I saw a man go into the alleyway, back of the house," answered our hero lamely. "I'll be real truthful with you and tell you that I know the man, and that he has done lots of good things for me. Well, I thought the man got into that library window, although it was pretty dark and I might have been mistaken."

"The window was locked when I went to open it."

"You are certain of that?"

"I am."

"Then I must have made a mistake." And our hero drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps, after all, Sam Pepper was innocent.

"One thing is sure, some money was gone, and we found those gold pieces on the floor," went on Gertrude. "Who could have opened the safe?"

"Who knew the combination beside your uncle?"

"Myself—he told me last month—when he had his last bad spell."

"Nobody else—that cousin, for instance?"

"I don't believe Mr. Bulson knew it."

"Then that's what made it look black for you. The safe wasn't forced open, that's sure. Somebody opened it who knew the combination."

"The money might have been taken some time ago," said Gertrude. "Anyway, it is gone, and you and I are supposed to be the thieves." She smiled bitterly. "How strange! and we hardly know each other!"

"And I don't see any way of clearing ourselves," said the newsboy, with equal bitterness. "But let that drop. What are you going to do? Going to some friend's house?"

"I have no friends here. You see, we came from Philadelphia, and I am not much acquainted as yet."

"Then you'll go to Philadelphia? If you wish, I'll carry that bag and see you to the train."

"No, I'm not going to Philadelphia. I would rather remain in New York, near my uncle. He may need me some day."

"He's a hard-hearted man!" burst out the newsboy. "I don't see how he could treat you so mean!"

"It is his sickness makes him so, Nelson; he was never so before." Gertrude heaved a long sigh. "I must say I really do not know what to do."

"I know a hotel on Third Avenue, but it's not a very nice place."

"No, I don't wish to go there. If I could think of some friend–"

"Did your uncle send you away without any money?"

"I took only the clothing I needed, nothing more."

"Then I'll give you what I've got," answered Nelson promptly, and drew out what little money he possessed.

"No; I won't rob you, Nelson. But you are very, very kind."

"It aint any robbery," he answered. "Come, you must take it." And he forced it into her hand. "I know an old lady who'll take you in," he continued suddenly. "Her name is Mrs. Kennedy. She's only a fruit and candy woman, but she's got a heart as big as a balloon. She's a nice, neat woman, too."

The matter was talked over for a few minutes, and Gertrude consented to go to the two rooms which Mrs. Kennedy called her home.

These were close to Third Avenue, and late as it was, they boarded a train and rode down. The building was dark, and Nelson had some trouble in rousing the old woman.

"To be sure I'll take the lady in, Nelson," said Mrs. Kennedy, when the situation was partly explained. "Come in, miss, and welcome."

Gertrude was glad enough to enter and drop into a chair, and here our hero left her, and at once hurried down to the lunch-room with all speed.

Not wishing to arouse Sam Pepper if he was asleep, he went around to the rear window, opened that, and crawled through.

To his surprise Pepper was not there.

"I'm lucky, after all," he thought, and undressed with all speed. Hardly had he crawled into bed when Pepper came in. He lit the gas and looked at our hero, but Nelson snored and pretended to be fast asleep. Sam appeared relieved at this, and soon retired. His bag, which he had brought with him, he placed under his bed, in a corner next to the wall.

The newsboy could not sleep, and from the time he lay down until daylight appeared he turned and tossed on his cot, reviewing in a hundred ways all that had occurred. But he could reach no satisfactory conclusion. The one thing, however, which remained fixed in his mind was that Gertrude Horton was now homeless, and he felt that he must, in some measure at least, look out for her.

"I don't suppose I can do much," he thought dismally. "But what I can do I will, that's certain."

Long before Sam Pepper was stirring Nelson was up and dressed. As he was going out Pepper roused up.

"Where are you bound?" he asked.

"Going to sell papers."

"You're starting early to-day."

"I've got to hustle, if I want to make any money." And so speaking, Nelson left the place.

He was soon down at "Newspaper Row," as it is commonly called, that part of Park Row and Nassau Street where are congregated the offices of nearly all of the metropolitan dailies. He had not a cent in his pocket, but this did not bother him. He soon found Paul Randall, who was being shoved right and left in the big crowd of boys who all wanted to get papers at once.

"What papers do you want, Paul?" he asked.

The little newsboy told him, and Nelson said he would get them for him.

"And I'd like to borrow a dollar, Paul," he went on. "I had to give up every cent I had."

"That's too bad, Nelson," replied Paul. "I can't loan you a dollar. All I've got extra is sixty-five cents. You can have that."