d be she drowned sure?"

"She's a goner!" replied the boy.

This emphatic assurance of "rigor mortis" having convinced the old
gentleman that his money will be well invested, the deal is about to be
closed, when, seeing Oswald, little Jack sprints across the street, down
an alley, into the arms of a policeman.

"Pfwhat yez roonin' loike yez a stalin' wagabond pfhwor?" sternly asks
the officer.

"That willanous-lookin' rascal round there is campin' on me trail."

With visions of a kidnaper of small boys fleeing from his wrath, Michael
P. O'Brien drags the terrified Jack out of the alley to the street.
Seeing the old man holding to the paper and looking dazed, upon this
gray-haired malefactor is placed the strong hand of the "statute in such
case made and provided," and he is started toward the police-station,
with the soothing assurance:

"Yez nadn't confiss yez guilt by discriminatin' ividince."

Seeing that matters are badly mixed, Jack sidles away toward the
opposite street-corner. His movement is noted by the policeman at the
exact moment that Jack again sees Oswald. Heedless of loud command to
"Sthop, in the noime of the law," the youthful auctioneer of the
metropolitan press heads at right angles and is soon out of sight.

CHAPTER II

AFTER THE STORM

The day has been fearfully hot. Unconscious of surroundings, every nerve
seemingly relaxed, a young man is riding along the road toward the
station. Passing a wooded strip, there is a blinding flash. With much
effort, Oswald frees himself from the limb of a tree, which in falling
broke the neck of his horse. Bewildered with pain and drenched to the
skin, he is staggering around in the mud, when a light wagon, drawn by a
fine team, comes to a sudden halt at the fallen tree. The driver turns
his conveyance around and assists the soaked victim of the storm to a
seat. Retracing the way to another road, after a roundabout journey they
stop in front of a large mansion surrounded by a grove.

The injured man is assisted to a room. A servant soon brings dry
clothing and kindles a fire.

Oswald begins to meditate upon his mishap. "Close call," murmurs he,
"and just as I had completed that grand air-castle! At the very moment
when the acclaim was the loudest and the star of Langdon seemed
brightest, that blinding flash! That terrible shock, too, and such an
oppressive feeling, until the limb was removed from my breast! What does
it mean? How like and yet