Nelson The Newsboy

"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–"