Julius was tired, and fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. He slept so soundly that he did not hear Marlowe fumbling at the lock with some of the burglar’s tools which he always carried with him. Curiously he was dreaming of his old life, when he was under the guardianship of Jack and Morgan, and Marlowe was a constant visitor. It seemed to him that the latter had been accusing him to Jack, and was threatening him with uplifted arm, when, all at once, he was aroused from sleep by a violent shaking, and, opening his eyes, his first glance rested on the man of whom he had been dreaming.

He stared at him in bewilderment and alarm, but said nothing, such was his surprise.

“Well, boy,” said Marlowe, growing impatient, “why are you staring at me so hard? Don’t you know me?”

“Yes,” said Julius, the spell broken, “you are Dan Marlowe.”

“Did you see me downstairs?”

“Were you the man that was sitting on the piazza when I drove up?”{211}

“Yes.”

“I wish I had known it,” thought Julius. “I should have been on my guard.”

“It is some time since we met,” said Marlowe.

“Yes, it is.”

“And I suppose,” he added, sneeringly, “you wish it had been longer.”

“You are right there; I didn’t care to see you again,” returned Julius, boldly.

“I don’t wonder at that, after your base treachery, you rascally hound!” said Marlowe, furiously. “Do you know how Jack and me spent the last two years?”

“In prison?” said Julius, hesitating.

“Yes; in prison, and we have you to thank for it. You might as well have turned against your own father as against Jack.”

“No,” said Julius, firmly. “I am sorry for Jack. I wouldn’t have gone against him, if there was any other way of saving Paul. Paul had been kind to me when I needed it. What did Jack ever do for me? We lived together when he was out of prison, but it was I that brought him all my earnings. I paid my own way and more, too, even when I was a boy of eight. I owe Jack nothing. But I am sorry for him all the same. I wish he could get free.”

“And what about me?” asked Marlowe, sneeringly. “Are you glad I am free?”{212}

“No, I’m not,” said Julius, boldly. “I never liked you as well as Jack. He’s bad enough, but you’re worse. Though he didn’t take care of me, he was generally kind to me. Even if I owe him something, I owe you nothing.”

“But I owe you something, my chicken,” said Marlowe, between his teeth. “Do you know why I am here? No? Well, I’ll tell you. I met Ned Sanders soon after I got out, and he told me the tricks you played on him. I found out from him that you had come out West, and that’s why I came here. I hadn’t forgotten who sent me up. I swore, at the time, I’d be revenged, and now I’ve got the chance.”

The man looked so malicious—so possessed by the spirit of evil—that Julius could not help shuddering as he met his baleful gaze.

“What do you mean to do to me?” he asked, feeling helpless, as he realized that in spite of his increased strength he was no match for the stalwart ruffian.

“I mean to kill you,” said Marlowe, fiercely.

Julius shuddered, as well he might; but he answered: “If you do, your life will be in danger.”

“What do you mean?” quickly asked Marlowe, taking it as a threat.

“You will be hung.”

“They must catch me first,” said he, coolly. “But first{213} you must answer me a question. How much money have you?”

“I can’t tell without counting.”

“Don’t dare to trifle with me, boy!”

“I am telling you the truth.”

It may be mentioned that, apart from his personal apprehension, Julius was anxious about his money. He had in a wallet six hundred dollars belonging to Mr. Taylor, which he had collected in various places. He was ambitious to justify his benefactor’s confidence, and carry it to him in safety; but Marlowe threatened to take both the money and his life. He was only a boy, but emergencies make men out of boys. He had been provided by Mr. Taylor with a revolver, not with any supposition that he would need it, but as a safeguard in case robbery should be attempted on the road. He had forgotten to put it under his pillow, but it was in the pocket of his coat, and that coat was hanging over a chair on the opposite side of the bed from that on which Marlowe was standing. He could only obtain possession of it by stratagem.

“Give me your money,” said Marlowe, fiercely.

“Then spare my life,” said Julius, assuming a tone of entreaty.

“I cannot promise,” said Marlowe; “but I will assuredly kill you at once unless you give me the money.”

“Then wait till I get it for you,” said Julius.{214}

He jumped out of bed, Marlowe suspecting nothing, and put his hand in the pocket of his coat. He drew out, not a pocketbook, but the revolver, which he deliberately pointed at Marlowe.

“Dan Marlowe,” he said, quietly, “you are stronger than I, but this pistol is loaded, and I know how to use it. Come toward me, and I fire.”

“Confusion!” exclaimed the burglar, furiously, and his impulse was to spring upon Julius. But there was something in the boy’s resolute tone which made him pause.

“He wouldn’t be so cool if it wasn’t loaded,” he thought.

A doubt in the mind of Julius was solved. Marlowe had no pistol, or he would have produced it. Disagreeable as it was, the burglar stopped to parley. He could postpone his revenge, and only exact money now.

“Put up your pistol,” he said. “I only wanted to frighten you a bit. You’ve done me a bad turn, and you owe me some return. Give me all the money you have with you, and I’ll say quits.”

“I can’t do that,” said Julius, “for the money isn’t mine.”

“Whose is it?”

“It belongs to my guardian.”

“Is he rich?”

“Yes.”{215}

“Then he can spare it. Tell him it was stolen from you.”

“I shall do no such thing,” said Julius, firmly. “It hasn’t been stolen yet, and won’t be, as I believe.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Marlowe, furiously, making a dash toward our hero.

“Hold!” shouted Julius. “One step farther and I fire.”

There is a popular impression that men of violence are brave; but it is a mistaken one. Marlowe had not the nerve to carry out his threat, while covered by a pistol in the hands of a resolute antagonist. There was another reason also. The partitions were thin, and the noise had aroused the gentleman sleeping in No. 9. He came out into the entry, and knocked at the door of No. 8.

“Put up your pistol, boy,” said Marlowe, hurriedly, “and I will open the door.”

Julius did not put it up, but hastily concealed it, and the door was opened.

The visitor was an elderly man in his nightclothes.

“How do you expect a man to sleep?” he said, peevishly, “when you are making such an infernal noise?”

“I beg your pardon,” said Marlowe, politely, “but I am just leaving my friend here, and shall retire at once. You won’t hear any more noise.”{216}

“It is time it stopped,” said the visitor, not quite appeased. “Why, it’s after midnight!”

“Is it, really?” said Marlowe. “I did not think it so late. Good-night, Julius.”

“Good-night,” said our hero.

The visitor retired, and so did Marlowe. But Julius, distrusting his neighbor, not only locked, but barricaded the door, and put the revolver under his pillow. But he had no further visit from Marlowe. The latter, for prudential reasons, postponed the revenge which he still meant to take.

In the morning Julius looked for his enemy, but he was nowhere to be seen. Inquiring in a guarded way, he ascertained that Marlowe had taken an early breakfast and had gone away. It might be that he feared Julius would cause his arrest. At any rate, he was gone.

Julius never saw him again, but read in a newspaper, not long afterward, the closing incidents in the career of this dangerous ruffian. He made his way to Milwaukee, and resumed his old business. While engaged in entering a house by night, he was shot dead by the master of the house, who had heard him enter. It was a fitting end to a misspent life. From a boy he had warred against society, and now he had fallen at the hands of one of his intended victims.

* * * * * * * * *

But little remains to be told—too little for a separate{217} chapter. Julius has redeemed the promise of his youth, and now in his early manhood possesses the respect and attachment, not only of Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, but of all who know him. His real estate speculation has turned out favorably. The property for which he paid fifteen hundred dollars is now worth three times that sum, owing to the rapid growth and increasing population of Brookville; but as it is likely to become still more valuable, he has decided not to sell yet. He has repaid Mr. Taylor the amount of the mortgage out of his earnings, and is now sole proprietor. He has assumed the management of Mr. Taylor’s large farm, and is likely in time to grow rich. It is reported that he is engaged to be married to a niece of Mrs. Taylor, who recently came from the East to visit her aunt; and it is not unlikely that the report is true. Though he can boast no proud lineage, and is even indebted to strangers for a name, the Taylors feel that the good qualities which he possesses will compensate for these deficiencies.

He has once visited New York. Last year he went to the East on business for Mr. Taylor, and sought out some of his old haunts. Among other places, he visited the Newsboys’ Lodging House, and, at the request of Mr. O’Connor, made a short speech to the boys, a portion of which will conclude this story:

“Boys,” he said, “it is but a few years since I was drifting about the streets like you, making my living{218} by selling papers and blacking boots, ragged, and with a dreary prospect before me. I used to swear and lie, I remember very well, as I know many of you do. If I had stayed in the city I might be no better off now. But in a lucky moment I was induced by Mr. O’Connor to go West. There I found kind friends and a good home, and had a chance to secure a good education. Now I carry on a large farm for my benefactor, and second father, as I consider him, and I hope in time to become rich. I tell you, boys, it will pay you to leave the city streets and go out West. You may not be as lucky as I have been in finding rich friends, but it will be your own fault if you don’t get along. There are plenty of homes waiting to receive you, and plenty of work for you to do. If you want to prosper and grow up respectable, I advise you to come out as soon as you get the chance.”

THE END.{169}