Nelson The Newsboy

"You shall never leave until you listen to me," he said. And then he tried his best to reason with her for fully an hour, but she would not hearken. At last she grew as pale as a sheet.

"This whole thing is a trick—the letter and all!" she gasped, and fell in a swoon. He caught her and carried her to an upper chamber of the cottage. Here he placed her on a couch, and then went below again, locking the door after him.

"It's a way she has at times," he explained to Sarah Higgins. "She is not always so bad. She will be quite herself in a few days, and then she will remember nothing of this."

"Poor dear!" was the answer. "It's dreadful to be so out of one's mind."

"You must take care that she does not escape."

"I will, sir. But about that money?" And the woman's eyes gleamed greedily.

"There is ten dollars on account." And Homer Bulson handed over the amount.

"Thank you, sir. She shall have the best of care—and she won't get away, never fear."

"I was going to remain over in Lakewood to-night, but I find I must return to New York," went on Bulson. "I'll be back again some time to-morrow or the day after. In the meantime do not let her get out of the room."

"I will do as you say, sir," answered Sarah Higgins, and then Gertrude's cousin took his departure.

It did not take the girl long to come out of her swoon, and she at once ran to the door. Finding it locked she went to the window, determined to leap to the ground, if she could do nothing better. But, alas! Homer Bulson had made his calculations only too well. The window was slatted over on the outside, making the apartment virtually a prison cell.

She saw that the slats had been put on recently, and this made her more sure than ever that the whole thing was a plot. The letter had been a decoy, and had been used solely to get her in his power.

"What does he expect to do?" she asked herself. "I have given him every claim on Uncle Mark's fortune; what more can he wish? Is he afraid I may go back? Perhaps he wants to take my life, so as to be certain I will not cross his path again." And she shivered.

Listening, she heard Homer Bulson bid Sarah Higgins good-by and leave the cottage. At this she breathed a sigh of relief. She knocked steadily on the door, and presently the woman came up.

"What do you want?" she asked through the keyhole.

"Are you going to keep me a prisoner here?"

"Only for a little while, my dear."

"Where has Mr. Bulson gone?"

"To New York, I believe."

"When will he be back?"

"To-morrow, or the day after."

"You expect to keep me here all night?" cried Gertrude, in astonishment.

"Now, don't grow excited," pleaded Sarah Higgins. "Yes, you'll have to stay here until to-morrow, and perhaps some time longer. Now you had better lie down and rest yourself."

And then the woman tramped off, leaving Gertrude filled with wonder and dismay.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A SURPRISE ON THE ROAD

When Nelson struck the water he was all of fifty feet away from the sloop. Down he went over his head, but quickly reappeared and struck out boldly.

"Hullo, somebody's overboard from the ship!" cried a young man, who sat at the bow of the sloop. "Port your helm, Bob, or you'll run into him!"

The helm was thrown over, and the sloop veered around. Then Nelson set up a shout.

"Help! Pick me up!" he cried. "On board the sloop! Help!"

"We'll pick you up, don't fear!" cried the young fellow at the bow, and the sloop came around and the mainsail was lowered. The two young men on the craft were skillful sailors, and soon came within reach of Nelson. One held out a boathook, and presently our hero was hauled on board.

"It's a lucky thing we were near by, or you might have been drowned," said the young man called Bob. "Isn't that so, Clarence?"

"That's true," answered Clarence Bell. "I see your ship isn't stopping for you."

"She isn't my ship, and I don't want her to stop," answered Nelson, shaking the water from him.

"Oh! Then you jumped overboard on purpose."

"I did, and I am thankful you picked me up. The captain who runs that boat was going to carry me to the West Indies against my will."

"Great Cæsar! Bob, do you hear that?"

"I do," returned Bob Chalmer. "Was it a case of kidnaping?"

"Hardly that," replied Nelson. "I'll tell you the whole story, if you'd like to hear it. Only I want to be sure that that boat doesn't put back after me," he continued.

He watched the Victory for fully five minutes but nothing was done toward turning back, and at last he gave a great sigh of relief.

"I guess I'm safe," he remarked.

"You are, lad. But you had better take off those wet clothes, or you'll take cold. You'll find a dry suit in the cuddy."

This was sensible advice, and Nelson followed it. As soon as he had donned the other suit he sat down and told how he had chased Billy Darnley on board the Victory, and of what had followed.

"Humph! that captain is pretty hard-hearted," remarked Clarence Bell.

"He ought to be arrested," put in Bob Chalmer. "You were lucky to get away. I guess that thief is out of your reach now."

"Well, anyway, I left him as sick as he could be," said Nelson, and could not help but laugh over Darnley's woe-begone appearance. "He'll have enough of the sea by the time he gets back."

From the young men he learned that they had been out for two days on a fishing trip. They had had good luck, as the mess on board proved, and they were now sailing for Manasquan Inlet, where they were boarding for a few weeks.

"We belong in New York," said Bob Chalmer later. "And I guess we can see you through all right."

"I'll be much obliged, if you would," said Nelson. "I'll pay you back as soon as I reach the city." And then he told of the news stand, and the business he and Van Pelt were doing.

The breeze was as brisk as ever, and it veered around, so that the sloop made the Inlet without difficulty. They ran up the river to a small collection of cottages and boathouses known as Reefer's. Here they tied up, and Nelson went ashore, wearing the old fishing suit he had borrowed.

"You can't get home to-night, so you shall stay with us," said Bob Chalmer, and procured a room at one of the cottages for Nelson. Tired out, our hero slept well. But he arose early, and by that time his own clothes were dry, and he put them on.

"I've got a railroad ticket in my pocket good from Lakewood to New York," said Chalmer, while they were having breakfast. "It's a limited ticket and runs out to-morrow. Why can't you use that? You can have it at half price."

"How far is Lakewood from here?"

"Not over six or seven miles. The stage will take you over for fifteen cents."

"That will suit me," answered our hero. "I've got half a dollar left."

"Oh, I'll lend you some money, Nelson!"

"No; I won't need it."

The matter was talked over, and our hero took the ticket. Quarter of an hour later he was on the stage, bound for Lakewood.

It was a clear day, and the ride among the smooth roads was thoroughly enjoyable. Yet Nelson thought but little of the journey. His mind was filled with his personal affairs. He wondered what Van Pelt thought of his continued disappearance.

"He'll think I've captured Darnley sure," he reasoned. "Well, what's happened can't be helped, and I'm lucky to escape, I suppose."

On and on went the stage, making good time, for the team was fresh.

When about two miles from Lakewood they reached a bend, where the road was being repaired.

A steam roller was at work, and at this one of the horses grew frightened and started to run away. His mate went with him, and in a twinkle the stage was bumping along at a high rate of speed.

"Stop! stop!" shrieked a lady sitting near Nelson. "Stop, or we'll all be killed!"

"Whoa! whoa!" roared the stage-driver, and tried to pull the horses in. But his lines were old, and suddenly one snapped, and then the horses went along faster than ever.

Not far down the road were several heaps of stone, to be used in repairing the highway, and the team headed directly for the first of these heaps. The driver tried to sheer them around, but with one line gone was nearly helpless, and in a second more the stage struck the pile and went over with a crash. Then the horses came to a halt.

No one was seriously injured by the mishap, although the lady who had cried out was much shaken up. Soon all gathered around, to learn the extent of the damage to the stage.

It was found that one of the front wheels was knocked to pieces. The driver was much downcast, and knew not what to do.

"I'll have to leave the turnout here and go back to Berry's shop for a new wheel, I suppose," he said. He could not state how soon he would return, or how soon the stage would be ready to start forward once more.

"How far is it to the Lakewood railroad station from here?" questioned Nelson.

"Not over a mile and a half."

"Then I'll walk it, if you'll show me the shortest road."

"The shortest road is that over yonder," answered the stage-driver. "It aint no good for driving, but it's plenty good enough for hoofing it."

"Thanks," said Nelson, and without waiting he started off to walk the remainder of the journey.

He had still an hour and a half before the train would be due at Lakewood, so he took his time and often stopped to look at the dense woods and the beautiful green fields.

"What a difference between this and New York streets!" he said to himself. "And how quiet it is! I don't believe I could sleep here at night, it would be so still!"

At length he came within sight of an old cottage, where a woman was hanging up a small wash on a line. Feeling thirsty, he resolved to go into the yard and ask her for a drink of water.

But no sooner had he set foot in the weedy garden than the woman came running toward him, waving him away.

"Don't want to buy anything!" she cried shrilly. "Don't want to buy! Go away!"

"I haven't anything to sell," answered Nelson, with a smile. "I was going to ask for a drink of water."

"Oh!" The woman eyed him suspiciously. "Water, did you say?"

"Yes; I'd like a drink."

"The well is mighty poor here. You can get a drink up to the next house."

"Very well," returned Nelson, and started to leave the garden. As he did so he heard a sudden crash of glass and, looking up, saw some panes from a window in an upper room of the cottage fall to the ground.

"Nelson! Nelson! Help me!" came the unexpected cry.

"My gracious!" burst out our hero, in bewilderment. "Gertrude! What does this mean?"

"I am held a prisoner," answered Gertrude. "Save me!"

"A prisoner?"

"Yes, Nelson. You will help me, won't you?"

"To be sure I'll help you. But—but who did this?"

"My cousin, Mr. Bulson."

"The scoundrel! Is he here now?"

"I think not. But he may come back at any moment."

"Go away from here!" shrieked Sarah Higgins, in alarm. "Go away! That girl is crazy!"

"I guess you are crazy!" returned Nelson hotly. "Stand aside and let me get into the house."

"No, no! You must go away!" went on Sarah Higgins.

Then of a sudden she leaped back and ran for the cottage with might and main. Reaching it, she closed the door and locked it. Then she appeared at a near-by window, armed with a rolling-pin.

"Don't you dast come in!" she shrieked. "If you do, you'll have to take the consequences!" And she flourished the rolling-pin defiantly.

CHAPTER XXX.

COMPARING NOTES

It must be confessed that for the moment Nelson was completely nonplused. He wished to get into the cottage, and at once, but the woman looked as if she meant what she said, and he had no desire to have his skull cracked open by the rolling-pin.

"See here, madam; you are making a great mistake," he said as calmly as he could.

"Eh?" And Sarah Higgins put her hand up to her ear.

"I say you are making a great mistake," bawled Nelson. "That lady is not crazy."

"I say she is."

"Who told you she was crazy—Mr. Bulson?"

At this the woman looked astonished.

"Do you know that gentleman?"

"I know that man, yes. He is no gentleman. He robbed that lady of her property."

"How do you know?"

"I know—and that's enough. If you don't let me in at once, I'll have the law on you, and you'll go to prison for ten or twenty years," went on Nelson, bound to put his argument as strongly as possible.

At this Sarah Higgins grew pale, and the hand with the rolling-pin dropped at her side.

"Sure you aint making a mistake, boy?"

"No; I know exactly what I am talking about. That young lady is not crazy, and neither you nor Bulson have any right to keep her a prisoner."

"He said she was crazy; that she needed rest and quiet. That's why he brought her here."

"He is a villain, and if you know when you are well off, you'll have nothing to do with him. Now let me in, before I hammer down the door and turn you over to the police."

"Oh, my! don't hammer down the door, and don't call the police!" shrieked Sarah Higgins. "I meant to do no wrong, I can assure you."

"Then open the door."

"You will not—not touch me if I do?" she asked timidly.

"Not if you behave yourself. If Bulson deceived you, that's in your favor. But you had better not help him further."

With trembling hand Sarah Higgins unbolted the door and opened it. At once Nelson marched in, and, espying the stairs, mounted to the upper floor of the cottage.

"Nelson, is that you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, how thankful I am!"

"Where's the key to this door?" demanded our hero of the woman, who had followed him.

"There." And she pointed to a near-by nail. Soon he had the door unlocked, and at once Gertrude rushed out to meet him. The tears of joy stood in her eyes.

"How did you find the way so soon?" she asked.

"The way? What do you mean?"

"Why, the way from the railroad station at Lakewood. Did they know I came here?"

"I haven't been to Lakewood," answered Nelson. "I came here by pure accident." And then in a few words he told his story.

When he had finished Gertrude told of the decoy letter and of what had followed. Our hero was deeply interested and very angry that Homer Bulson had played such a trick.

"He ought to be put behind the bars for it," he said. "Certainly I am going to tell the police about it. He hasn't any right to follow you up in this fashion, even if he is your cousin."

"He is growing more bold every day," answered Gertrude. "I shall never feel safe so long as he is near me."

Sarah Higgins now calmed down, and tried to clear herself by saying she had been imposed upon. She readily consented to tell all she knew, if called upon to do so in a court of law, providing she herself was not prosecuted.

"That gives us one witness against your cousin," said Nelson. "If we can get another, we'll put him behind the bars."

"I don't want him locked up, if only he will leave me alone," returned Gertrude.

Nelson's visit to the cottage had taken time, and when Gertrude was ready to leave it was found to be too late to take the train our hero had started to catch.

"Never mind, we can take the afternoon train," said the boy. "But we will have to get dinner somewhere." He turned to Sarah Higgins. "I think you ought to furnish that."

At this the miserly woman winced.

"Well, if you really think so–" she began.

"I don't wish to stay here," cried Gertrude, "Mr. Bulson may be back at any moment."

"Well, if he comes, I guess he'll get the worst of it," answered Nelson.

But Gertrude would not stay, and a few minutes later they quitted the cottage.

The girl still had her pocketbook, with her money and the railroad ticket, so she would have no trouble in getting back to the metropolis. She also had over a dollar in addition, and she insisted upon having Nelson dine with her at a modest-looking restaurant, where the rates were not high.

"Your uncle ought to be told of your cousin's doings," said our hero, when they were waiting for the train. "I don't believe he would stand for it, no matter if he is displeased with you."

"I will not take the story to him," answered Gertrude with spirit. "He cast me out, and I shall not go near him until he asks me to come."

"Well, I guess I'd feel that way," answered Nelson, after a thoughtful pause. "I can't understand how he can treat his own blood as he is treating you."

"Uncle Mark was not always this way, Nelson. In years gone by he was very kind and considerate."

"But what made the change?"

"His sickness. Ever since he has been confined to the house he has been nervous, peevish, and altogether a different person. I really can't understand it."

"It's queer. Do you suppose having Bulson around makes any difference?"

"How could it affect his sickness?"

"Perhaps he gives your uncle something that affects his mind."

"Oh, Nelson! could anybody be so dreadfully cruel?"

"Some folks are as mean as dirt. I want to tell you something that I never spoke of before, because I thought it wouldn't be right to misjudge Bulson when I didn't know him as well as I know him now. Do you remember I once told you how he tried to cheat George Van Pelt out of the sale of some books?"

"Yes, I remember. You said Van Pelt made him take the books."

"So he did. And do you know what the books were?"

"I can't imagine."

"They were works on poisons, written in French."

"Poisons!" Gertrude grew pale. "Oh, Nelson! and you think–" She could not go on.

"I don't know what to think, but if I were you I'd have the doctors examine everything that Mr. Horton takes, especially the stuff Homer Bulson gives him."

"I will do that. Mr. Bulson can no longer be trusted. He is a high liver, and may be very anxious to get hold of Uncle Mark's fortune in the near future."

"He said he wanted the books because he was going to become a doctor and make poisons a specialty. That is what he told Van Pelt."

"A doctor! I don't believe he has brains enough to become a doctor—or if he has, he is too lazy to apply himself. Why, when he was a boy he was turned out of school because he wouldn't study."

"Well, if he would lie and use you as he has, he would do worse, Gertrude. For your uncle's sake he ought to be watched."

"He shall be watched," said Gertrude decidedly. "No matter how badly Uncle Mark has treated me, I will see to it that Homer Bulson no longer plays him foul."

CHAPTER XXXI.

BULSON GROWS DESPERATE

Sam Pepper was taking it easy at the rear of his resort on the evening of the day when Gertrude went to Lakewood, when the door opened and a messenger boy came in.

"Is Sam Pepper here?" asked the boy, approaching Bolton.

"That's my handle, sonny. What do you want?"

"Here's a message. I was to wait for an answer."

Pepper took the message and read it with interest.

"Friend Pepper: Meet me to-night between eleven and twelve o'clock at my apartments. Something important. Bring those old papers with you. I have the cash.

"H. B."

"Humph! so Bulson wants to close that deal to-night," muttered Sam Pepper, as he tore the message to shreds. "He's in a tremendous hurry, all at once. I wonder what's new in the wind? Well, I'm low on cash, and I might as well take him up now as later on."

"Where's the answer?" asked the messenger boy.

"Here you are," returned Pepper, and scribbled a reply on a slip of paper. Then the messenger received his pay and made off.

Promptly on time that night Sam Pepper went up Fifth Avenue. Just as he reached Homer Bulson's home the young man came down the steps.

"Come with me—the house is full of company," he said. "I want to talk to you where we will be free from interruption."

"I'm agreeable," answered Pepper.

The pair walked rapidly down a side street. Homer Bulson seemed ill at ease, and Pepper noticed it.

"You are not yourself to-night," he said.

"I've got lots to think about," growled Bulson.

"Still mad because the girl won't have you, I suppose."

"No, I've given her up. I don't want a wife that won't love me."

"That's where you are sensible."

"Gertrude can go her way and I'll go mine."

"Well, you'll have the softest snap of it," laughed Pepper. "She'll get nothing but hard knocks."

"That's her own fault."

"She don't make more than half a living, teaching the piano."

"Oh, if she gets too hard up, I'll send her some money," responded Bulson, trying to affect a careless manner.

"By your talk you must be pretty well fixed."

"I struck a little money yesterday, Pepper—that's why I sent to you. I want to go away to-morrow, and I wanted to clear up that—er—that little affair of the past before I left."

"What do you want?"

"I want all those papers you once showed me, and if you have that will I want that, too."

"You don't want much." And Sam Pepper laughed suggestively.

"Those papers will never do you any good."

"They might."

"I don't see how?"

"The boy might pay more for them than you'll pay."

"He? If he knew the truth, he'd have you arrested on the spot."

"Don't be so sure of that, Bulson. I know the lad better than you do. He has a tender heart—far more tender than you have."

"Well, if it's a question of price, how much do you want?" demanded Homer Bulson sourly.

"I want five thousand dollars cash."

"Five thousand! Pepper, have you gone crazy?"

"No; I'm as sane as you are."

"You ask a fortune."

"If that's a fortune, what's the amount you expect to gain? Old Horton is worth over a hundred thousand, if he's worth a cent."

"But I'm not sure of this fortune yet. He's a queer old fellow. He might cut me off at the last minute."

"Not if you had that will. You could date that to suit yourself, and you'd push your game through somehow."

"I can give you two thousand dollars—not a dollar more."

"It's five thousand or nothing," responded Sam Pepper doggedly.

"Will you accept my check?"

"No; I want the cash."

"That means you won't trust me!" cried Bulson, in a rage.

"Business is business."

Homer Bulson breathed hard. The pair were on a side street, close to where a new building was being put up. The young man paused.

"You're a hard-hearted fellow, Pepper," he said. "You take the wind out of my sails. I've got to have a drink on that. Come, though. I don't bear a grudge. Drink with me."

As he spoke he pulled a flask from his pocket and passed it over.

"I'll drink with you on one condition," answered Pepper. "And that is that I get my price."

"All right; it's high, but you shall have it."

Without further ado Sam Pepper opened the flask and took a deep draught of the liquor inside.

"Phew! but that's pretty hot!" he murmured, as he smacked his lips. "Where did you get it?"

"At the club—the highest-priced stuff we have," answered Bulson. Then he placed the flask to his own lips and pretended to swallow a like portion to that taken by his companion, but touched scarcely a drop.

"It's vile—I sell better than that for ten cents," continued Pepper.

"Let us sit down and get to business," went on Bulson, leading the way into the unfinished building. "I want to make sure that you have everything I want. I am not going to pay five thousand dollars for a blind horse."

"I'm square," muttered Sam Pepper. "When I make a deal I carry it out to the letter."

"You have everything that proves the boy's identity?"

"Everything."

"Then sit down, and I'll count out the money."

"It's—rather—dark—in—here," mumbled Sam Pepper, as he began to stagger.

"Oh, no! it must be your eyesight."

"Hang—me—if I—can—see—at—all," went on Pepper, speaking in a lower and lower tone. "I—that is—Bulson, you—you have drugged me, you—you villain!" And then he pitched forward and lay in a heap where he had fallen.

Homer Bulson surveyed his victim with gloating eyes. "He never sold better knock-out drops to any crook he served," he muttered. "Now I shall see what he has got in his pockets."

Bending over his victim, he began to search Sam Pepper's pockets. Soon he came across a thick envelope filled with letters and papers. He glanced over several of the sheets.