Let me beg the kind reader, who has followed me through my story thus
far, to recall an important personage who was left a prisoner in the
hands of a band of wicked men who were evidently hiding from the
officers of the law.
In that boy captive the reader has doubtless recognized Will Raymond,
for his mother had not taught him the name of his father, Schuyler
Cluett.
When he had been addressed upon the street by a gentleman, and sent on
an important mission, he had been entrapped, for his face and age just
suited a purpose that was to be carried out through him.
What that purpose was will soon be made known.
The time of Will's capture was some months after the flight of the
mother with her children from the elegant country mansion of Colonel
Richard Ivey.
So well had Mrs. Raymond, as I must now again call her, concealed
herself, that the police and detectives, put upon her track by Colonel
Ivey, had been unable to find her where abouts, and it was believed that
she had left New York for another place.
In an humble home, in a cheaper quarter of the city, the poor woman had
found an abiding-place, for it could not be called a home.
The rooms were but three in number, and not so pleasant as those where
she had lived in poverty before; but they were kept scrupulously clean,
and were not uncomfortable.
As soon as she was fully settled, Mrs. Raymond paid her rent for six
months in advance; then she laid in a store of provisions, and
purchasing painting materials, again began to paint little pictures for
sale, for she had but a small sum left of that which she had brought
with her, and she must begin to earn more, she knew.
But the shock of her husband's return, as though from the grave, had
been a severe one, and she felt that she was by no means as well as she
could wish.
Gradually her nerves failed her, the mainsprings of life, and she became
almost a confirmed invalid, unable to do but little.
Will and Pearl had again began attending the nearest public school, but,
as the spring drew near and Mrs. Raymond's health failed her more and
more, her little daughter had remained at home with her, while her brave
boy had given up his studies to earn what money he could, and this was
but little, hardly enough to give them food, and, but for Mrs. Raymond
having paid the rent, it would not have been sufficient to meet all
demands, moderate as they were.
It was while Will was skirmishing around in search of a stray penny to
earn, that he had struck what had appeared to him a "bonanza," in the
promise of a couple of dollars for delivering a letter and keeping his
mouth shut, at the same time afflicting himself with loss of memory, as
the one who paid him for his alleged services had demanded that he
should.
When, therefore, Will found himself a prisoner, the reader can well
imagine his feelings.
Brave boy that he was, his first thought was of his sick mother's
distress at his absence, and his second of himself.
It flashed upon him, from the words of Jerry, the Night Hawk, the secret
manner of his gaining admission, the letter which had led him into a
trap, that he was meant for some mysterious purpose of villainy.
The room in which he found himself had but one door, that by which he
had entered, and the ceiling ran up with the peaked roof, in which were
skylights for light and air.
It was a large room, occupying one side of the house, excepting where
the little ante-chamber, or hall-way was taken off, and about the sides
were baths such as one sees in a steamboat's cabin.
A cupboard was in one end of the room, filled with dishes, and next to
it was a dumb-waiter that came up from the lower depths somewhere.
On the opposite side a door was opened to what appeared to be another
cupboard, but in which Will saw at a glance a ladder, leading to an open
skylight above.
In the centre of the room was a large table with chairs about it, and
seated in various attitudes about it were a dozen men, who scowled
viciously upon the boy as he was dragged into their presence by Jerry,
the Night Hawk.
But Will, in spite of his perilous position, kept up a brave manner.
"What did ther kid come here for?" asked a man with a scowling face.
"Captain Cruel sent him, and writes that he'll do for the little job to
play on the Philadelphia man whose son died on our hands, and thus cut
us out o' the reward," said Night Hawk Jerry, who seemed to be leader of
the band of ruffians.
"He looks it sart'in, and I thought it were Billy come ter life ag'in
when I seen his face; but will he do it?"
"He'll have to, Jack, or--" and the look and action of Night Hawk Jerry
were most significant, and did not escape the eyes of Will Raymond.