Dan The Newsboy 38

Dan The Newsboy 38

"It's a good thing to have more than one string to your bow," he

thought. "Not but that my little game in getting hold of the child is

likely to pay well. Harriet Vernon will find that I have the whip-hand

of her. She must come to my terms, sooner or later."

 

At that very moment Harriet Vernon was embarking at Liverpool on a

Cunard steamer. She had received the letter of her brother-in-law, and

decided to answer it in person.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXV.

 

DAN DISGUISES HIMSELF.

 

 

For several days Dan strolled about Harlem, using his eyes to good

advantage. As a pretext he carried with him a few morning papers for

sale. Armed with these he entered shops and saloons without exciting

surprise or suspicion. But he discovered not a trace of the lost girl.

 

One day, as he was riding home in the Third avenue cars, there flashed

upon his mind a conviction that he was on a wrong scent.

 

"Is it probable that the man who carried away Althea would give the

right direction so that it could be overheard by a third party? No; it

was probably meant as a blind, and I have been just fool enough to fall

into the trap."

 

So Dan's eyes were partially opened.

 

Before the day was over they were wholly opened. He met John Hartley on

Broadway toward the close of the afternoon.

 

"Well, have you heard anything of your sister?" he asked, with an

appearance of interest.

 

"Not yet," answered Dan.

 

"That's a pity. Do you go up to Harlem every day?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Keep on, you will find her in time."

 

After they parted, Dan, happening to look back, detected a mocking

glance in the face of his questioner, and a new discovery flashed upon

him. Hartley was making a fool of him. He had sent him to Harlem,

purposely misleading him.

 

"What can be his object?" thought Dan. "Can he have had anything to do

with the abduction of Althea?"

 

This was a question which he could not satisfactorily answer, but he

resolved to watch Hartley, and follow him wherever he went, in the hope

of obtaining some clew. Of course he must assume some disguise, as

Hartley must not recognize him.

 

Finally Dan decided upon this plan.

 

He hired a room on East Fourth street for a week, and then sought an

Italian boy to whom he had occasionally given a few pennies, and with

some difficulty (for Giovanni knew but little English, and he no

Italian) proposed that the Italian should teach him to sing and play

"Viva Garibaldi." Dan could play a little on the violin, and soon

qualified himself for his new business.

 

At a second-hand shop on Chatham street he picked up a suit of tattered

velvet, obtained a liquid with which to stain his skin to a dark brown,

and then started out as an Italian street musician. His masquerade suit

he kept in his room at East Fourth street, changing therefrom his street

dress morning and evening. When in full masquerade he for the first time

sang and played, Giovanni clapped his hands with delight.

 

"Will I do, Giovanni?" asked Dan.

 

"Yes, you do very well. You look like my brother."

 

"All right."

 

Giovanni was puzzled to understand why Dan took so much pains to enter

upon a hard and unprofitable profession, but Dan did not enlighten him

as to his motive.

 

He thought it most prudent to keep his secret, even from his mother. One

day he met her on the sidewalk, and began to sing "Viva Garibaldi."

 

Mrs. Mordaunt listened without a suspicion that it was her own son, and

gave him two pennies, which he acknowledged by a low bow, and "Grazia,

signora."

 

"Poor boy! Do you earn much money?" she asked.

 

"I no understand English," said Dan.

 

"I hope his padrone does not beat him," said Mrs. Mordaunt to herself.

"I hear these poor boys are much abused. I wonder if I can make him

understand? Have you a padrone?" she asked.

 

"Si, signora, padrone," answered Dan.

 

"Does he beat you?"

 

"I no understand."

 

"It is no use; he doesn't understand English. Here is some more money

for you," and she handed him a five-cent coin.

 

"Its a wise mother that knows her own child," thought Dan. "Hallo!

there's Hartley. I'll follow him."

 

Hartley boarded a University Place car, and Dan jumped on also.

 

"I wonder where he's going?" thought our hero.

 

Italian boys so seldom ride that the conductor eyed Dan with some

suspicion.

 

"Five cents," he demanded.

 

Dan produced the money.

 

"I thought you might be expecting to ride for nothing," said the

conductor. "Seems to me you're flush for an Italian fiddler."

 

"No understand English," said Dan.

 

"And I don't understand your lingo."

 

A charitable lady inside the car chanced to see Dan, and it occurred to

her that she would do him a service.

 

"Can you sing, my boy?" she asked.

 

"I sing a little," answered Dan.

 

"If the conductor doesn't object, you may sing while we are on our way.

Here's ten cents for you."

 

Dan bowed and took the money.

 

"You can sing and play," said the conductor, good-naturedly.

 

Dan was not at all desirous of doing this, for Hartley sat only three

feet from him, and he feared he might recognize him, but it would not be

in character to refuse, so he began, and sang his one air, playing an

accompaniment. Several of the passengers handed him small coins, among

them Hartley.

 

"How well he sings!" said the charitable lady.

 

"I can't agree with you, ma'am," said Hartley. "I would rather give him

money to stop."

 

"His voice strikes me as very rich, and the Italian is such a beautiful

language."

 

Hartley shrugged his shoulders.

 

"I have heard a good deal better performers even among the street boys,"

said Hartley.

 

"So have I," said Dan to himself. "He doesn't suspect me; I am glad of

that."

 

Hartley remained in the car till it reached the Astor House, and so, of

course, did Dan. In fact, Hartley was on his way to Brooklyn to pay

another installment to the guardians of the little girl whom he had

carried off. Dan, therefore, was in luck.

 

Hartley kept on his way to Fulton Ferry, Dan following at a prudent

distance.

 

Had Hartley looked back, he would have suspected nothing, for he had not

penetrated Dan's disguise, and would therefore have been quite at a loss

to understand any connection between the street musician and himself.

 

They both boarded the same ferry-boat, and landed in Brooklyn together.

 

At this moment Hartley turned round, and his glance fell upon Dan.

 

"Hallo! you here?" he said, with surprise.

 

"Si, signor," answered Dan, bowing deferentially.

 

"What brings you to Brooklyn?"

 

"I sing, I play," said our hero.

 

"And you do both abominably."

 

"I no understand English," said Dan.

 

"It is lucky you don't, or you might not like my compliment."

 

"Shall I sing 'Viva Garibaldi?'" asked our hero, innocently.