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CHAPTER XVI.
NELSON AND PEPPER PART

Nelson remained on watch, and as soon as he saw George Van Pelt coming he headed him off and took him around the corner.

"I've bought the stand," he said.

"Already?"

"Yes. I had a talk with old Maxwell, offered him eighty cash, and he took me up. So we've saved ten dollars."

"He'll be mad when he learns he might have had ninety."

"He needn't know. Give me your money, and I'll pay him the balance."

So it was arranged, and Nelson went to the stand and closed the deal. Old Maxwell had taken in thirty-two cents, and this was passed over to the boy.

"Going to run the stand alone?" queried the old man.

"No, a man is going to help me," said our hero.

"Who is it?"

"George Van Pelt."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" exclaimed old Maxwell. "I thought he wanted the stand himself."

"He couldn't raise the money. Here he comes now."

Nelson beckoned to Van Pelt, and soon both were hard at work cleaning up the stand. They talked the matter over and agreed to give old Maxwell a dollar more, if he would come around for two mornings and explain whatever proved strange to them.

"Sure, I'll do it," said Maxwell. "I want you to get the best of the man up on the elevated station and the man on the next block. They are both mean fellows and don't deserve any trade."

"We intend to hustle and get all the trade we can," said our hero.

It must be confessed that he felt very proud of his situation. He was no longer a mere newsboy, but a business man, and he felt, somehow, as if he had grown several inches taller.

"We must have a sign," said Van Pelt. "What will we make it—Van Pelt & Pepper, Newsdealers?"

"I don't like the name Pepper—for a last name, I mean," said our hero, scratching his curly head. "Better make it Van Pelt & Company, for the present." And the next day an oilcloth sign was tacked up proclaiming the new firm, and notifying all that they dealt in newspapers, magazines, books, and school supplies. While Nelson tended the stand George Van Pelt went downtown to a jobbing house and bought some extra stock. In a few days business was in full blast and prospects looked very bright.

"I am glad to see you doing well," said Gertrude, on visiting the stand one Saturday, after giving her music lessons. "It looks quite like a place of business. It won't be long before you'll have a store."

"We'll have to save up for it," answered our hero.

He wanted the girl to stay a little while, but she could not, for Mrs. Kennedy was down with rheumatism and was next to helpless.

"She has been very kind to me and I wish to do what I can for her," said Gertrude.

"Is her stand closed?"

"No, Gladys Summers is running it for her. She has put her flowers in with the other stock."

"Gladys is good-hearted, too," was Nelson's comment.

Sam Pepper heard of the newsboy's new move two days after the stand was bought.

"Going into business with George Van Pelt, eh?" he observed, when Nelson came home that night.

"Yes."

"He's a poor sort. He'll never get rich. He's not slick enough."

"I'm satisfied with him," returned the newsboy briefly.

"What did you take in to-day?"

"A little over nine dollars."

"Phew! that's better than I thought. How much profit?"

"About three dollars and a half above expenses."

"And you git half?"

"Yes."

"Then you ought to pay me more board money."

"I'm paying all it's worth now. I get no more meals, remember—I only use this place to sleep in."

"Well, that's worth more."

"I'm thinking of getting a room near the stand," went on Nelson, after a pause.

"What! you want to leave me!" roared Sam Pepper.

"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here. I don't want anything to do with your saloon."

"That's a nice way to talk to me."

"I can't help it. I hate the saloon, and it's too far to come down here just to sleep; especially when I have to leave so early in the morning."

"Supposing I don't let you leave?"

To this Nelson made no reply.

"You're a nice son, I must say," went on Sam Pepper. "This is what I git for raising you."

"I am not your son, Sam Pepper. As for what you've done for me, I'm willing to pay you for that. You let me leave without any fuss and I'll give you two dollars a week until the debt is paid."

"Two dollars a week aint much."

"It's all I can afford, with my other expenses."

"Reckon you don't care much for me, any more."

"I never did care for you, and you know it. I don't like drinking people and the other kind that hang around here. I want to become respectable and make something of myself."

"Aint I respectable?" roared Pepper, raising his fist in anger. "Say that again, and I'll knock you down."

"I said that I didn't like the crowd that hangs around here. I'm going to get out, whether you take up my offer or not."

"Then clear out—and the sooner the better. It's a pity I didn't kick you out," growled Sam Pepper, walking the floor savagely. "Go! go to-night!"

"I will," answered our hero.

No more was said, and the boy tied up what little clothing he had in a newspaper. He was soon ready to depart, and then he faced Pepper again.

"Good-by," he said, holding out his hand. "Let us part friends."

"You've missed it by turning against me," said Pepper, with a strange look in his eyes. "I might have made you rich."

"How?"

"Never mind now. You can go your way, and I'll go mine. I don't want to shake hands. Go!" And he turned his back on the newsboy.

"One word more, before I leave," said our hero. "Will you tell me my right name?"

"I won't tell you anything. If Nelson Pepper aint good enough for you, you can make the name what you please."

"Then good-by," said Nelson, a little sadly, and in a moment more he was gone.

It was so late he knew not where to look for a room that night, so trudged back to the stand. It was entirely inclosed with wooden shutters, and large enough inside for him to make himself fairly comfortable, and there he remained until daylight.

"I'm glad to hear you've left Pepper," said George Van Pelt, when he heard the news. "He's a bad fellow, and getting worse. If you want, you can get a room in the house next to where I live."

"What will they charge me?"

"You can get a small, but clean, hall bedroom for a dollar a week."

"That will just suit me," answered our hero.

The place was but three blocks away from the stand, and Nelson made the necessary arrangements that afternoon, during the time when trade was dull.

Nelson wondered what Pepper had meant by saying he had missed it in turning against the man. Did Pepper refer to the past, or did he have in mind what he could leave when he died?

"I don't want a cent of his money," our hero told himself; "but I would like to solve the mystery of my birth and parentage."

CHAPTER XVII.
A BOLD MOVE

On the night following Nelson's leave-taking from Sam Pepper's establishment the keeper of the resort stood behind his bar, doing business as usual. The place now glistened with glasses and mirrors, but its so-called beauty was lost to view in the tobacco smoke which filled every nook and corner.

The lunch tables had given place to little round affairs where the patrons might drink and play cards, and several of the tables were filled by a noisy crowd.

Sam Pepper had just gotten rid of two tramps who wished drinks without paying for them, when he was surprised to see the door open slowly, and Homer Bulson showed himself.

"Ah! how do you do, Mr. Bulson?" he said cheerily.

"Please don't talk so loud," replied the young man, as he came in and walked to the rear end of the polished bar.

"All right, if you want it that way. Have a drink?"

"Some whisky!" was the careless answer.

"How are you making out with the girl?"

"Haven't you heard? She has left the house. My uncle cast her out."

Sam Pepper gave a long, low whistle.

"Things seems to be coming all your way," he remarked.

"I don't know about that. Don't you know that Gertrude Horton and Nelson the Newsboy are friends?"

"I've heard they knew each other."

"They are friends."

"What do you know of it?"

"I met her on Broadway one day, and he came up and wouldn't give me a chance to talk to her. Do you know where she is now?"

"No."

"Nelson must know. Question him when he comes in, will you?"

"I will—when he comes. He doesn't live with me any longer, you must remember."

"He doesn't? When did he leave?"

"Yesterday. He and a man have bought out a news stand, and he's going to live near by."

"You mustn't lose track of him—just yet."

"Trust me for that, Mr. Bulson."

"If you hear anything of Gertrude, let me know at once. If you can help me, I'll pay you well."

"I'm your man and I'll remember," answered Sam Pepper, and thereupon Homer Bulson finished his liquor, threw down a quarter dollar, and started to leave.

"Where can I find you, if you're not at home?" called Pepper after him.

"Generally at the Broxton Club," answered Bulson. "You know where that is, near Union Square." And as Pepper nodded, he opened the door and walked away.

After this, business continued brisk for half an hour, when Sam Pepper found it necessary to go to a back room for some bottles.

Hardly had he left the saloon when the door was opened, and much to the astonishment of the men at the round tables a young lady, plainly dressed, stepped in. It was Gertrude.

"I say, that's a fine girl," remarked one of the men, a rounder named Worden. "She's a new one around here, aint she?"

"Reckon she is," returned another.

"How do you do, miss?" went on the first man, getting up and tipping his hat.

"Excuse me, sir," said the girl. "Is Mr. Pepper in?"

"Yes, here he comes now," answered Con Worden, and fell back to the table again, followed by his companion.

"You are Mr. Sam Pepper?" said Gertrude timidly. The general appearance of the place frightened her.

"That's my name, miss. But you've got the advantage of me."

"I am Gertrude Horton."

Sam Pepper stared at her in the greatest astonishment.

"Well, I'm blowed," he muttered to himself. "This beats the Dutch!"

"I believe you are Nelson's foster father," continued Gertrude.

The café keeper nodded.

"Is he here?"

"Well—er—he aint here yet," answered Pepper, hardly knowing what to say. "But if you'll sit down he may come soon."

"I—I guess I had better remain outside," said Gertrude, looking around with much disgust. "You are quite sure he'll come soon? I wish to see him about Mrs. Kennedy. She has been taken dangerously ill, and I do not know what to do. Could you send him over to her place when he comes?"

"Better wait for him, Miss Horton. Come, I'll show you into our sitting room. It's not a grand place, but it's clean and quiet. Come."

He pointed to one of the back rooms, now fixed up as a sitting room. She hesitated, but before she could resist he caught her by the arm.

"Nobody shall disturb you here," he half whispered. And before she knew it she was in the sitting room. The gas was turned down, but he turned it up. Then he went out, closing the door after him. "Nelson must come in soon," he said.

Gertrude sank down on a chair. Her mind was concerned entirely over the serious sickness which had suddenly overtaken good Mrs. Kennedy, and consequently she thought little of herself. But when she heard some shutters to the window of the sitting room slam from the outside she leaped to her feet.

"What can that mean?" she cried, and ran to the window. Trying the shutters, she found them fastened from the outside. At once she crossed over to the door, to find it locked.

"He has made me a prisoner!" she moaned. Then she knocked loudly on the door, but nobody came to answer her summons.

In the meantime Sam Pepper, having locked the door and fastened the window shutters, called Con Worden to him.

"Worden, do you want to earn a quarter?" he asked.

"Well, I should smile," answered the hanger-on eagerly.

"You saw that gentleman who was here a while ago—him with the silk hat and gold-headed cane."

"Of course I did."

"Go over to the Broxton Club, near Union Square, and see if he is there. Call for Mr. Bulson. If you find him, tell him to come at once."

"All right," said Con Worden, and hurried off.

CHAPTER XVIII.
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

The Broxton Club was a fashionable resort for young gentlemen who usually had more money than brains. It was located near the upper side of Union Square, and the club apartments consisted of a parlor, a dining and wine room, and a room for card-playing. In the latter apartment gambling went on at nearly all hours of the day and night.

Reaching the club Homer Bulson found several congenial companions, and presently sat down to a game of cards. Bets were made, first at a dollar, then at five, and then at ten and twenty. Bulson had no luck, and soon lost forty dollars.

"I'm on the wrong side to-night," was his dismal comment, and he went to the wine room to forget his losses in the flowing bowl.

He had just finished a glass of liquor when a servant came to him.

"A man at the door to see you, sir," said the servant. "Says he has a private message for you."

Wondering who the messenger could be, Homer Bulson hurried below and found Con Worden awaiting him.

"You want to see me?" he questioned sharply. He did not like the dilapidated appearance of the hanger-on.

"Are you the gent that just came from Sam Pepper's place?"

"What if I am?" asked Bulson cautiously.

"He says he wants to see you at once."

"At once?"

"That's it."

"He didn't say what about?"

"No."

"All right; I'll be over as soon as I can get there."

"I'll tell him that."

Homer Bulson expected Worden to make off at once, but the hanger-on did not budge.

"Well, aren't you going?" asked the young man sharply.

"Certainly, sir; soon as I git paid," said Worden coolly.

"Oh, that's it! What do you want?"

"It's worth a quarter, aint it?"

"I suppose so," answered Bulson carelessly, and passed over a silver piece.

"Thanks; I'm off now," said Con Worden, and speedily disappeared.

In a few minutes Homer Bulson followed the man, and it did not take him long to reach Sam Pepper's resort once more.

As he entered he found Pepper in the act of clearing out all the hangers-on, including Worden, who had just received the quarter promised to him.

"Well, what is it?" asked Homer Bulson.

"I've got news that I guess will surprise you," was the answer.

"What is it?"

"You want to find your cousin Gertrude."

"I do."

"What will you give me for finding her for you?"

"Oh, I don't know. What do you want?"

"Is it worth a hundred dollars?"

"What, for just finding her?"

"For finding her and putting her in your power."

"Can you put her in my power?"

"Perhaps I can."

"When?"

"Very soon,—if you'll pay the hundred."

"I will," returned Bulson eagerly. "Perhaps you've got her in your power already," he went on hastily.

"I have."

"Where?"

"Here."

Homer Bulson looked around him and then stared at Pepper in amazement.

"I don't see her."

"She is in my sitting room, under lock and key."

"Back there?"

The café keeper nodded.

"But I can't understand it, Pepper. How did you get her here, and so soon? You didn't have her when I was here before, did you?"

"Of course not. Right after you went away she came in, looking for Nelson, because the woman she lives with is very sick. I told her to wait in the sitting room, and then I locked the door and the window on her."

"What is she doing now?"

As if in reply to the young man's question there was a loud knock on the sitting-room door.

"Mr. Pepper! Mr. Pepper!" came in Gertrude's voice.

"She has knocked several times," said Pepper. "But I didn't mind that. I'm thankful she hasn't begun to kick and scream."

"I must have a talk with her. Now that she finds she is in our power, perhaps she'll come to terms."

"More than likely."

The door was unlocked, and Sam Pepper allowed Homer Bulson to enter the room.

"Watch the door, if you don't want her to get away," whispered Sam Pepper, and the young man winked one eye knowingly.

On seeing her cousin Gertrude fell back in astonishment.

"What, you?" she faltered.

"Yes, Gertrude, I've been looking for you," he answered.

"Where is Nelson?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I don't see how you can interest yourself in that young ruffian."

"He is more of a true gentleman than you will ever be, Mr. Bulson."

"You are truly complimentary, Gertrude. But you do not know your own mind, nor what is best for you. This running away has upset your judgment."

"I did not run away—I was driven away—and all because of you."

"Then let me set matters right for you."

"Will you do that?" she asked eagerly.

"I promise I will—if you'll only marry me."

"Always the same thing!" she cried, bursting into tears. "I will not listen. Let me go."

She started for the door, but he placed himself directly in her path.

"Wait a minute. Where do you live?"

"I decline to answer that question."

"I'll wager it is in some low tenement house, among the poorest people."

"I live among poor people, it is true, but they are not low, as you understand the word."

"Did Nelson Pepper find the place for you?"

"He did."

"Always that boy! You make me angry with your foolishness. Why don't you come back? I want to share Uncle Mark's fortune with you."

"I have talked all I wish upon the subject."

"How are you to live? You never did any work in your whole life."

"I can work when it is necessary."

"At what?"

"I am giving piano lessons."

"At starvation wages, I presume," he sneered.

"I am making an honest living. Thousands can do no more. Now I demand that you let me go."

Again she moved toward the door, and again he stood in her path.

"Did you hear what I said?" she cried. "Stand aside!"

"I will stand aside—when we have come to terms," he answered, setting his teeth. "You shall not leave this house until you have promised to do as I and your uncle desire."

CHAPTER XIX.
NELSON TO THE RESCUE

On the same evening that Gertrude visited Sam Pepper's establishment, Nelson, after closing up, determined to run down and call upon the girl and tell her about the stand and how well they had done that day.

"She'll be pleased, I know," he told himself. "She wants me to make a man of myself."

Arriving at the tenement house, he ascended the stairs to Mrs. Kennedy's rooms and knocked upon the back door. To his surprise Gladys Summers, the flower girl, let him in.

"Hullo, Gladys! you here?" he said.

"Oh, Nelson! I thought it was Gertrude," answered the flower girl. "Did you bring her along?"

"Along? I haven't seen her."

"She went over to Sam Pepper's place to bring you here. Mrs. Kennedy is very sick, and we didn't know what to do."

"I haven't been to Sam's place. I left there yesterday for good. What's the matter with the old lady?"

"Her rheumatism has got up around her heart, and she's very bad. I think she ought to have a doctor."

"She shall have one, Gladys. Was Gertrude going to get one?"

"No, she was going to get you to do that. She doesn't know anything of doctors down here, so she said."

"I'll have one here in a little while," said our hero, and ran down the stairs, two steps at a time.

Two blocks below the house there was a drug store, and a doctor had his office upstairs. The physician was in, and listened to what Nelson had to say.

"I'll go," he said. "But you know my terms to strangers."

"How much will the visit be?"

"A dollar."

"There's your money." And our hero handed it over.

The pair were soon at Mrs. Kennedy's bedside, and after an examination the doctor wrote out a prescription and Nelson had it filled at the drug store. The physician said he would call again the following afternoon.

"She's in a bad state," he said. "She has likely had this rheumatism for years, and her age is against her."

"Don't you think she'll get over it?" asked our hero.

"I think she will. But she may be helpless for many weeks."

"It's hard luck. She hasn't any money."

"Then you had better send her to the hospital."

"No, she shall stay home, if she wants to," said Nelson. "I guess I and the rest can take care of her. She was always good to me and the others."

After the medicine had been administered and Mrs. Kennedy was a trifle easier, Nelson began to grow impatient that Gertrude had not yet returned.

"I guess I'll go out and hunt her up," he said to Gladys Summers. "Will you stay here?"

"Yes; I promised to stay all night, Nelson."

Our hero was soon in the street again and making his way rapidly over to the East Side in the direction of Sam Pepper's resort. It was now late, but this part of the city was still bustling with life. Yet to our hero's surprise, when he reached Pepper's place he found it locked up.

"Closed!" he muttered. "This is queer. I wonder where Gertrude went?"

He stood for a moment on the pavement, then went and rapped loudly on the glass of the door.

For a minute there was no response, then, as he rapped again, Sam Pepper appeared. His face fell when he lifted a door shade and saw our hero.

"What do you want now?" he growled, as he opened the door for a space of several inches.

"Was that young lady over here to find me?" asked our hero.

"Nobody here to see you," answered Sam Pepper gruffly.

"She wasn't? Why, she started for here."

"I haven't seen anybody. Is that all you want?"

"Yes. Why are you shut up so early?"

"I didn't feel very well and thought I'd go to bed and sleep it off," answered Pepper smoothly. "I'm going back again. Good-night!"

"Then you haven't seen her at all?" persisted the newsboy.

"Haven't I told you so before? Now, don't disturb me again." And with this Sam Pepper slammed the door shut and locked it.

Nelson was nonplused, not so much by what Pepper had said as by the man's manner.

"He wanted to get rid of me in a hurry," he mused. "Somehow, this affair doesn't look right to me."

While our hero was standing near the curb, speculating upon where next to look for Gertrude, he was surprised to see Paul Randall come down the street.

"Why, Paul, how is it you are out so late?" he asked.

"Got stuck on some sporting extras and was bound to sell 'em," answered Paul. "Say, I hear you've bought out a stand."

"George Van Pelt and I have bought out a stand."

"Hope you make lots of money. If you need a clerk, don't forget me."

"I won't forget you, Paul. We have a boy now who delivers papers for us. He talks of leaving. If he does, I'll let you know. But, I say, have you been around here long?"

"Most all the evening."

"You know that young lady who is stopping with Mrs. Kennedy, don't you?"

"Yes. Gladys Summers calls her 'the angel,'" answered Paul readily. "She's a real lady, aint she, Nelson?"

"She is."

"I saw her go into Pepper's an hour or two ago."

"You did! I was going to ask you if you had seen her. You haven't made any mistake?"

"Not much! I'd know her in a whole city full—she's so sweet and beautiful."

"Did you see her come away?"

"No."

"Were you around so you could have seen her?"

"Yes; and I kept my eye on the door for almost an hour. I thought you might be with her."

"No; Sam Pepper and I have parted for good, Paul. I've got a room uptown, near the stand. I'd like to know what became of the young lady."

"If she came out, it must have been after I went away."

Paul knew that his mother, who was now getting better, would be anxious about him, so, without waiting longer, he hurried on. Nelson remained on the sidewalk, in deep thought.

Presently, as he was looking toward Sam Pepper's resort, he saw a corner of a curtain lifted and saw the man peer out at him. Then the curtain was dropped again.

"He's watching me," thought the newsboy. "Something is wrong here, and I know it. He and that Homer Bulson are friends, and Bulson is bound to make Miss Gertrude marry him. Perhaps they have hatched up some game against Miss Gertrude."

Not to make Sam Pepper more suspicious, Nelson walked briskly away, up the street. But at the first corner he turned, sped down the side street, and then into the alleyway connecting with the rear of Pepper's resort.

It took him but a minute to ascertain that the shutters to the rear room were tightly closed, and held together by a wire bound from one catch to the other.

The shutters were solid, but near the tops were several round holes, put there for ventilating purposes.

Looking around our hero discovered an empty barrel, and standing on this he managed to look through one of the holes into the apartment.

He saw Gertrude sitting on a chair, the picture of misery. The hot tears were flowing down her cheeks.

The sight went straight to his heart, and without waiting to think of results, he leaped from the barrel, pulled away the wire, and flung the shutters open. Then he lifted the window, which had been pulled down, but not fastened.

Gertrude heard the noise and leaped up in fresh alarm. But when she saw our hero she gave a cry of joy.

"Oh, Nelson! will you help me?" she gasped.

"Certainly I'll help you, Miss Gertrude," he answered. "What are they doing—keeping you a prisoner here?"

"Something like that. Mr. Bulson was here and went out to get a coach, so that he could take me away. Mr. Pepper is on guard in his saloon."

"Just come with me, and you'll be safe."

Gertrude came to the window, and Nelson helped her into the alleyway. Just as she leaped from the window Sam Pepper unlocked the door and opened it.

"Stop!" roared the man. "Stop, I say!"

"Don't stop!" said Nelson, and caught Gertrude by the hand. Dark as it was, the boy knew the narrow and dirty thoroughfare well, and soon led his companion to the street beyond. Pepper came as far as the window, and called after them once more, but did not dare to follow further.