Dan The Newsboy 33

Dan The Newsboy 33

"You shall have the income, John," she said--"I will keep none back; but

the principal must be kept for Althea."

 

"You care more for the brat than you do for me," he muttered.

 

"I care for you both," she answered. "You know how the money would go,

John. We should all be left destitute."

 

"That meddling sister of yours has put you up to this," he said,

angrily.

 

"There was no need of that. It is right, and I have decided for myself."

 

"Your first duty is to your husband."

 

"I feel that in refusing I am doing my duty by you."

 

"It is a strange way--to oppose your husband's wishes. Women ought never

to be trusted with money--they don't know how to take care of it."

 

"You are not the person to say this, John. In five years you have wasted

one hundred thousand dollars."

 

"It was bad luck in investments," he replied.

 

"I am afraid you are right. Investing money at the gaming-table is not

very profitable."

 

"Do you mean to insult me, madam?" exclaimed Hartley, furiously.

 

"I am only telling the sad truth, John."

 

He forgot himself and struck her.

 

She withdrew, flushed and indignant, for she had spirit enough to resent

this outrage, and he left the house in a furious rage.

 

When Hartley found that there was no hope of carrying his point, all

restraint seemed removed. He plunged into worse excesses, and his

treatment became so bad that Mrs. Hartley consented to institute

proceedings for divorce. It was granted, and the child was given to her.

Hartley disappeared for a time. When he returned his wife had died of

pneumonia, and her sister--Mrs. Vernon, now a widow--had assumed the

care of Althea. An attempt to gain possession of the child induced her

to find another guardian for the child. This was the way Althea had

come into the family of our young hero.

 

Thus much, that the reader may understand the position of affairs, and

follow intelligently the future course of the story.

 

When John Hartley left the presence of his sister-in-law, he muttered

maledictions upon her.

 

"I'll have the child yet, if only to spite her," he muttered, between

his teeth. "I won't allow a jade to stand between me and my own flesh

and blood. I must think of some plan to circumvent her."

 

This was not easy. He had absolutely no clew, and little money to assist

him in his quest. But Fortune, which does not always favor the brave,

but often helps the undeserving, came unexpectedly to his help.

 

At an American banker's he ran across an old acquaintance--one who had

belonged to the same club as himself in years past.

 

"What are you doing here, Hartley?" he asked.

 

"Not much. Luck is against me."

 

"Sorry to hear it. By the way, I was reminded of you not long since."

 

"How is that?"

 

"I saw your child in Union Square, in New York."

 

"Are you sure of it?" asked Hartley, eagerly. "Are you sure it was my

child?"

 

"Of course; I used to see it often, you know. She is a bright little

thing."

 

"Do you know where she lives?" asked Hartley. "Did you follow her?"

 

"Don't _you_ know where she lives?"

 

"No; her aunt is keeping the child from me. I am very anxious to find

her."

 

"That accounts for it. She was with a middle-aged lady, who evidently

was suspicious of me, for she did not bring out the child but once more,

and was clearly anxious when I took notice of her."

 

"She was acting according to instructions, no doubt."

 

"Very probably."

 

"I wish you had learned more."

 

"So do I. Why do they keep _you_ away from her?"

 

"Because she has money, and they wish to keep it in their hands," said

Hartley, plausibly. "The aunt is a very mercenary woman. She is living

here in London, doubtless on my little girl's fortune."

 

John Hartley knew that this was not true, for Mrs. Vernon was a rich

woman; but it suited his purpose to say so, and the statement was

believed by his acquaintance.

 

"This is bad treatment, Hartley," he said, in a tone of sympathy.

 

"Isn't it?"

 

"What are you going to do about it?"

 

"Try to find out where the child is placed, and get possession of her."

 

"I wish you success."

 

This information John Hartley felt to be of value. It narrowed his

search, and made success much less difficult.

 

In order to obtain more definite information, he lay in wait for Mrs.

Vernon's servant.

 

Margaret at first repulsed him, but a sovereign judiciously slipped into

her hand convinced her that Hartley was quite the gentleman, and he had

no difficulty, by the promise of a future douceur, in obtaining her

co-operation.

 

"What is it you want, sir?" she asked. "If it's no harm you mean my

missus----"

 

"Certainly not, but she is keeping my child from me. You can understand

a father's wish to see his child, my dear girl."

 

"Indeed, I think it's cruel to keep her from you, sir."

 

"Then look over your mistress' papers and try to obtain the street and

number where she is boarding in New York. I have a right to know that."

 

"Of course you have, sir," said the girl, readily.

 

So it came about that the girl obtained Dan's address, and communicated

it to John Hartley.

 

As soon as possible afterward Hartley sailed for New York.

 

"I'll secure the child," he said to himself, exultingly, "and then my

sweet sister-in-law must pay roundly for her if she wants her back."

 

All which attested the devoted love of John Hartley for his child.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXI.

 

ALTHEA'S ABDUCTION.

 

 

Arrived in New York, John Hartley lost no time in ascertaining where Dan

and his mother lived. In order the better to watch without incurring

suspicion, he engaged by the week a room in a house opposite, which,

luckily for his purpose, happened to be for rent. It was a front window,

and furnished him with a post of observation from which he could see who

went in and out of the house opposite.

 

Hartley soon learned that it would not be so easy as he had anticipated

to gain possession of the little girl. She never went out alone, but

always accompanied either by Dan or his mother.

 

Hartley was disappointed. If, now, Althea were attending school, there

would be an opportunity to kidnap her. As it was, he was at his wits'

end.

 

At last, however, opportunity favored him.

 

On the evening of the party Mrs. Mordaunt chanced to need some small

article necessary to the work upon which she was engaged. She might

indeed wait until the next day, but she was repairing a vest of Dan's,

which he would need to wear in the morning, and she did not like to

disappoint him.

 

"My child," she said, "I find I must go out a little while."

 

"What for, mamma?"

 

"I want to buy some braid to bind Dan's vest. He will want to wear it in

the morning."

 

"May I go with you, mamma?"

 

"No, my child. You can be reading your picture-book till I come back. I

won't be long."

 

So Mrs. Mordaunt put on her street dress, and left the house in the

direction of Eighth avenue, where there was a cheap store at which she often traded.