A PAIR WELL MATCHED.
After leaving George Van Pelt Nelson felt more like working, and buying
a large supply of evening papers he was soon hard at it, crying his
wares as loudly as possible.
Business proved brisk, and by seven o'clock he had sold out. Then he
went back to the lunch-room.
Sam Pepper met him with a scowl.
"Concluded to come back after all, eh?" he said. "Work piling up on me
and nobody to help. Pitch in, quick, or I'll thrash you good; do you
hear?"
The rest of the evening passed in almost utter silence between them. By
ten o'clock the most of the lunch trade came to an end. At eleven Sam
Pepper began to lock up.
"I'm going out," he said. "An old friend is sick. Maybe I won't be back
till morning. Watch things good while I'm gone."
"Who is sick?" asked our hero.
"None of your business. You mind what I told you, and keep your mouth
closed," growled the lunch-room keeper.
Nelson had noticed a heavy handbag lying in the corner of the back room,
and now he saw Sam Pepper pick the bag up. As the man moved it,
something inside struck together with a hard, metallic sound, as if the
bag might contain tools.
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.