Dan, the Newsboy by Jr. Horatio Alger (best detective novels of all time txt) 📕

cry.

"It's a purty thing for a child to tell her ma she's lyin'."

"You're not my ma. You're an ugly woman. My ma hasn't got a red face."

"Hear till her now!" exclaimed Mrs. Donovan, indignantly. "Don't you go on talkin' that way, but get right up, or you sha'n't have any breakfast."

"Oh, send me back to my mother and Dan!" implored Althea.

"Dress yourself, and I'll see about it," said Mrs. Donovan.

Althea looked for her clothes, but could not find them. In their place she found a faded calico dress and some ragged undergarments, which had once belonged to a daughter of Mrs. Donovan, now at service.

"Those clothes are not mine," said Althea.

"Shure they are. What are yer talkin' about?"

"I had a pretty pink dress and a nice new skirt. Oh, where are they?"

"Shure you're dramin'. These was the clothes you took off last night," said Mrs. Donovan, with unblushing falsehood.

"I won't put this dress on," said the child, indignantly.

[Pg 239]

"Then you'll have to lay abed all day, and won't get nothing to eat," said the woman. "Maybe you'll like that now."

"What is your name?" asked Althea.

"Shure you're a quare child to ask your own mother's name. I'm Mrs. Donovan, and you're my Katy."

"I am not Katy. My name is Althea."

"That's a quare name intirely. Who put it into your head. I'm afraid you're gone crazy, Katy."

Althea was bewildered. Was it possible that she could be Katy Donovan, and that this red-faced woman was her mother? She began to doubt her own identity. She could not remember this woman, but was it possible that there was any connection between them?

"Are we in New York?" she asked, timidly.

"No, we are in Brooklyn."

"I used to live in New York with Mamma Mordaunt."

"Well, you're livin' in Brooklyn now with Mamma Donovan."

"I never saw you before."

"Shure I shouldn't have sent you away from me to have you come home and deny your own mother."

"Will you let me go to New York and see Mamma Mordaunt?" asked Althea, after a pause.

[Pg 240]

"If you're a good girl, perhaps I will. Now get up, and I'll give you some breakfast."

With a shudder of dislike Althea arrayed herself in the dirty garments of the real Katy Donovan, and looked at her image in the cracked mirror with a disgust which she could not repress.

Hartley had suggested that her own garments should be taken away in order to make her escape less feasible.

She opened the door, and entered the room in which Mrs. Donovan had set the table for breakfast.

As she came in at one door, Hugh Donovan entered at another.

"Come here, little gal," he said, with a grin.

Althea looked at him with real terror. Certainly Hugh Donovan was not a man to attract a child.

Althea at once thought of an ogre whom Dan had described to her in a fairy story, and half fancied that she was in the power of such a creature.

"I don't want to," said the child, trembling.

"Go to your father, Katy," said Mrs. Donovan. "He won't hurt you."

This her father! Althea shuddered at the idea, and she gazed as if fascinated at his one eye.

"Yes, come to your pa," said Donovan, jeeringly. "I like little gals—'specially when they're my own."

"I am not your child!" said Althea, alarmed.

[Pg 241]

"Yes, you be, and don't you deny it. Come and give your father a kiss."

The little girl began to cry in nervous terror, and Donovan laughed, thinking it a good joke.

"Well, it'll do after breakfast," he said. "Sit up, child, and we'll see what the ould woman has got for us."

Mrs. Donovan did not excel as a cook, but Althea managed to eat a little bread and butter, for neither of which articles the lady of the house was responsible. When the meal was over she said:

"Now, will you take me back to New York?"

"You are not going back at all," said Hugh. "You are our little girl, and you are going to live with us."

Althea looked from one to the other in terror. Was it possible they could be in earnest? She was forced to believe it, and was overwhelmed at the prospect. She burst into a tempest of sobs.

Men are less tolerant of tears than women.

Hugh Donovan's face darkened, and his anger was kindled.

"Stop that howlin' now!" he said.

Althea continued to cry hysterically.

"Stop it now, if you know what's best for yourself!"

Althea was terrified, but she could not at once control her emotion.

[Pg 242]

"Old woman, get the whip!" said Hugh, hoarsely.

From a drawer Mrs. Donovan drew out a riding whip. Her husband took it, and brandished it menacingly.

"Do you see that, now?" he said.

"Yes," said Althea, trembling, stopping short, as if fascinated.

"Then you'll feel it if you don't stop your howlin'."

Althea gazed at him horror-stricken.

"I thought you'd come to your senses," he said, in a tone of satisfaction. "Kape her safe, old woman, till she knows how to behave."

In silent misery the little girl sat down and watched Mrs. Donovan as she cleared away the table, and washed the dishes. It was dull and hopeless work for her. She thought sorrowfully of Mrs. Mordaunt and Dan, and wished she could be with them again. Should she never, never see them? The thought so saddened her that she burst into a low moan, which at once drew the attention of Mrs. Donovan.

"Are you at it again?" she said.

"I can't help it," moaned Althea.

"Ye can't, can't ye? See here, now," and the woman displayed the whip with which her husband had threatened the child. "I'll give ye something to cry for."

[Pg 243]

"Oh, don't—don't beat me!" entreated Althea.

"Then kape quiet!"

"May I go out into the street?" asked the little girl.

"Ye want to run away," said Mrs. Donovan, suspiciously.

"No, I don't. I mean I won't unless you let me."

"I won't trust ye."

"Must I stay here all the time?" asked Althea, with her little heart sinking at the thought.

"No, Katy, you may go wid me when I go to the market," answered Mrs. Donovan. "Shure, if you'll be a good gal, I'll give you all the pleasure I can."

Althea waited half an hour, and then was provided with a ragged sun-bonnet, with which, concealing her sad face, she emerged from the house, and walked to a small market, where Mrs. Donovan obtained her supplies for dinner.

Troubled as she was, Althea looked about her with a child's curiosity on her way through the strange streets. It served to divert her from her sorrow.

"Who's that little girl, Mrs. Donovan?" asked an acquaintance.

"Shure it's my little Katy," said the woman, with a significant wink which prevented further questioning.

Althea wished to deny this, but she did not dare to. She had become afraid of her new guardians. Oh, if[Pg 244] she could only see Dan! She felt sure that he would take her away from these wicked people, but how was Dan to know where she was. The poor child's lips quivered, and she could hardly refrain from crying.

[Pg 245]

CHAPTER XXXIV. ANOTHER LITTLE GAME.

It was so late when Dan heard of Althea's disappearance that he felt it necessary to wait till morning before taking any steps toward her recovery.

"I'll find her, mother," he said, confidently. "Do not lie awake thinking of her, for it won't do any good."

"How can I help it, Dan? I didn't know how much I loved the dear child till I lost her."

"You have not lost her, mother."

"I am not so hopeful as you, Dan. I fear that I shall never see her again."

"I am sure we shall. Now, mother, I am going to bed, but I shall be up bright and early in the morning, and then to work."

"You won't have any time, Dan. You must go to the store."

"I shall take a week's vacation. I will write a note to Mr. Rogers, telling him my reasons, and he will be sure not to object. If Althea is to be found, I will find her within a week."

[Pg 246]

Dan's confidence gave Mrs. Mordaunt some courage, but she could not feel as sanguine of success as Dan.

In the morning Dan sought out Nancy, and took down her account of how the little girl had been spirited away.

"So she went away in a carriage, Nancy?"

"Yes, Master Dan."

"Can you tell me what sort of a looking man it was that took her away?"

"Shure I couldn't. I was struck dumb, you see, wid hearing how your mother broke her leg, and I didn't think to look at him sharp."

"You can tell if he was an old man or a young one."

"He was naythur. He was betwixt and betwane."

"Very tall or very short?"

"Naythur. He was jist middlin'."

"Well, that's something. Now, what kind of a carriage was it?"

"Jist a hack like them at the square."

"You wouldn't remember the driver?"

"No; shure they all look alike to me."

Dan made more inquiries, but elicited nothing further that was likely to be of service to him.

After a little reflection he decided to go to Union[Pg 247] Square and interview some of the drivers waiting for passengers there.

He did so, but the driver who had actually been employed by Hartley was absent, and he learned nothing. One driver, however, remembered carrying a gentleman and child to a house on Twenty-seventh street, between Eighth and Ninth avenues.

Dan thought the clew of sufficient importance to be followed up. His courage rose when, on inquiring at the house mentioned, he learned that a child had actually been brought there.

"May I see the child, madam?" he asked.

"If you like," answered the lady, in surprise.

She appeared in a short time with a boy of about Althea's age.

Dan's countenance fell.

"It is a little girl I am inquiring after," he said.

"Then why didn't you say so?" demanded the woman, sharply. "You would have saved me some trouble."

"I beg your pardon, madam."

"I begin to think I am not as good a detective as I thought," said Dan to himself. "I am on a false scent, that is sure."

So Dan returned to Union Square.

When he had been asking questions of the cab-drivers he had not been unobserved. John Hartley,[Pg 248] who knew Dan by sight, laughed in his sleeve as he noted our hero's inquiries.

"You may be a smart boy, my lad," he said to himself, "but I don't think you'll find the child. I have a great mind to give you a hint."

He approached Dan, and observed, in a friendly way:

"Are you in search of your little sister?"

"Yes, sir," returned Dan, eagerly. "Can you tell me anything about her?"

"I am not sure, but possibly I may. I occupy a room directly opposite the house in which you board."

"Did you see Althea carried away?" asked Dan, eagerly.

"Yes; I was sitting at my window when I saw a hack stop at your door. The door-bell was rung by a man who descended from the hack, and shortly afterward your sister came out, and was put into the carriage."

"What was the man's appearance, sir? The servant could not tell me."

"So much the better," thought Hartley, with satisfaction.

"He was a little taller than myself, I should say," he answered, "and I believe his hair was brown"—Hartley's was black. "I am sorry I can't remember more particularly."

[Pg 249]

"That is something. Thank you, sir. I wish I knew where the cab went."

"I think I can tell you that. I came down into the street before the cab drove away, and I heard the gentleman referred to say, in a low voice, 'Drive to Harlem.'"

"Thank you, sir," said Dan, gratefully. "That puts me on the right track. I shall know where to search now."

"I wish I could tell you more," said Hartley, with a queer smile.

"Thank you, sir."

"If you find your little sister, I should be glad if you would let me know," continued Hartley, chuckling inwardly.

"I will, sir, if you will let me know your name and address."

"My name is John Franklin, and I live in the house directly opposite yours, No. —."

"All right, sir; I will note it down."

John Hartley looked after Dan with a smile.

"My dear young friend," he said to himself, "it goes to my heart to deceive you, you are so innocent and confiding. I wish you much joy of your search in Harlem. I think it will be some time before I receive intelligence of your success. Still I will keep my room here, and look after you a little. I am really