Nelson The Newsboy. Stratemeyer Edward

a crisis in his life was approaching. He felt that the old life was speedily to become a thing of the past.

      "Nelson, aint you often wondered who you was?" went on Pepper.

      "To be sure I have!" cried the boy. "But you will never tell me anything," he added bitterly.

      "Well, I kept the secret for your own good, my boy."

      "How?"

      "When I came to New York and settled on the East Side I made up my mind to lead an honest life and bring you up honestly. I did it, too; didn't I?"

      "So far as I know, yes."

      "I did it, but it was hard scratching, and you know it. Many were the times I didn't know how to turn myself, and if it hadn't been for some friends helping me, I would have gone under. Those friends were the only ones I ever knew. They weren't honest, but—well, we'll let that pass. They helped me, and I aint going back on 'em."

      "But what about me?"

      "I'm coming to that, Nelson. As I said before, I wanted to bring you up honestly; for your mother was honest, even if your father wasn't."

      "My father!" ejaculated the newsboy. "What was he?"

      "He was a good-hearted man, Nelson—a fine-hearted man, who did lots of good."

      "But you said he wasn't honest."

      "No, he wasn't, if you must know. He was a burglar, and made his living by taking from the rich what they didn't deserve to have. He was my friend, and he was one of the men who helped me when I lost all I had at the yacht races."

      "But—but I don't understand," faltered Nelson. "What was his name?"

      "I can't tell you that."

      "Is he dead?"

      "Yes; he died when you was a little kid not more than three years old. We both lived in another city then—I won't tell you where. Your father was shot while entering a house to rob a man who had once robbed him when he was in business. Your father died in a hospital, and I was with him. Your mother was dead, and he didn't know what to do with you. I said I'd take you, and he made me promise to go to sea first and then to another city and bring you up the best I could. He didn't want you to know your name, and so I got to calling you Nelson after the English admiral, and you can sign yourself Nelson Pepper after this, if you want to."

      "Then you won't tell me where I came from?"

      "No; excepting that it was a good many miles from here. It wouldn't do any good to rake up old scores. If your father hadn't died of the shot, he would have been sent to prison for ten or fifteen years."

      "What was the name of the man who shot him?"

      "It won't do you any good to know that, either—he's dead and gone, too."

      There was a pause, and the newsboy gave something like an inward groan. The revelation that Pepper had made was truly a shocking one, and the boy was so dazed and bewildered he could scarcely think. His father a burglar, and shot down while in the act of committing a robbery! What a degradation!

      "I've told you all this for a purpose," went on the man. "Now I've got some more to tell you, if you'll promise to keep your mouth shut."

      "What else is there?"

      "Will you keep silent if I tell you?"

      "Yes."

      "And do you promise not to say a word of what I have just told you?"

      "Why should I—it wouldn't be anything to my credit," answered Nelson.

      "But I want you to promise."

      "All right; I promise."

      "That's good. I know if you give your word you'll keep it. Now, I've got a plan in my head to square accounts, so to speak, and git rich at the same time."

      "What plan?"

      "Well, you see, it's like this: There's a rich gent lives up near Central Park. I won't give you his name, but I don't mind telling you that he's a distant relative of the fellow who shot your father, and he used to help that other man in his dealings against your father. I don't know as he remembers your father now, but he's a man you ought to get square on, anyway."

      "How?"

      "I'm coming to that, my boy. This man is old and feeble and has something of an office in his library at home. There is a safe in the library, but it's old-fashioned and can easily be opened. In that safe the old man keeps thousands of dollars all the time, for it's too much for him to go back and forth to the bank, and he aint the one to trust anybody else."

      Sam Pepper paused suggestively and looked Nelson full in the eyes. Then he began to whistle softly to himself.

      "Do you mean that you think I ought to rob that safe?" questioned our hero.

      "You won't have to do the job alone, lad; I'll be on hand to help you."

      "But I—I never stole anything in my life."

      "It won't be stealing, exactly. That man owes you something. If it hadn't been for him and his relative your father might have been rich and never got into any burglary. I have looked the ground over, and the job will be dead easy. There is a back alley and an iron fence that both of us can climb over without half trying. Then I can git a diamond cutter for the window glass, and the rest will be just as easy as wink."

      "And if you are caught, what then?"

      "We won't git caught, Nelson. The old man has only a niece living with him, a girl of seventeen or eighteen, and an old housekeeper who is half deaf. The rest of the help comes in the morning and leaves after supper."

      There was another pause. Nelson sank beside the table, with his face in his hands. Suddenly he looked at Sam Pepper again.

      "Did you say that man had robbed my father—I mean the man who shot him?"

      "Sure he did, Nelson."

      "Then perhaps my father wasn't a burglar, after all. Perhaps he was entering the house to get evidence against the man."

      "No, he went in to—er—well, to steal, if you must have it straight."

      "Sam Pepper, I don't believe you!"

      "Nelson!"

      "I don't believe you, so there! You won't tell me my name, or where I came from, or anything, and you are only trying to make out my father was a thief so as to get me to turn thief, too."

      "I've told you the truth, lad."

      "And I repeat I don't believe you. What is more, I won't help you in your plans of robbery. I've been honest so far, and I mean to remain honest. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for trying to make me a thief."

      The newsboy had risen to his feet and, as he spoke, his face glowed with earnestness. Now Sam Pepper sprang up, his features full of baffled passion.

      "How dare you talk to me, you miserable pup?" he roared. "I've a good mind to thrash you well for this! Haven't I clothed and fed you for years? And this is what I git for it! I've told you the truth about yourself, only I didn't paint your father as black as I might, not wishing to hurt your feelings. He was a burglar, and before he was shot he served two sentences in prison."

      "I don't believe it—and I never will," retorted Nelson, but with quivering lips. "Where was this? Tell me, and I'll soon find out if it is true."

      "I won't tell you a thing more—unless you promise to help me as you should."

      "I won't help you—and that's the end of it."

      "You owe me something for keeping you all these years."

      "I don't believe you would have kept me if you weren't paid for it."

      "I never received a cent—not a penny. You've got to pay me back somehow."

      "Well, I am not going to do it by stealing," answered Nelson doggedly.

      "Then how are you going to do it?"

      "I don't know yet."

      "I'm going to give this place up soon, and of course the living rooms will go, too."

      "I