THE STRUGGLE.

Both were strong, active men, Fritz in particular being well supplied with all the necessary muscle and agility of the prize-fighter, although he by no means looked as if he was an "ugly customer" to handle.

After clinching the two men soon tripped and fell to the floor, where the struggle literally began in all its meaning.

"Oh! I'll show ye how ther howlin' porpoise fights!" Bully Jake roared, endeavoring to get a bite at Fritz's nose. "I'll chaw ye all up like a dish o' hash!"

"Vil, you, dough!" Fritz cried, finally getting his hands free, and clinching them around the bully's throat tightly. "I'll pet yoost a half-dollar you von't do noddings off der kind," and now getting the ruffian under him he gradually shut off his wind.

"Hold on! hold on! no chokin'!—no chokin', I say; it's ag'in' ther moral rules o' fightin'!"

"I don'd vas see id dot vay," Fritz said. "Eider you vas got to ax my parding for assaulting me, or I vil choke off your breathe so you vil haff none to use."

"No choke, I say! Let me up, an' I'll fight ye accordin' ter book."

"Not a let oop!" was the young detective's reply. "Ven you come foolin' around mit der Dutchman you pet your life you get left. Apologize, I dells you, or I turns de throttle, und shuts der sdeam off your logermotiff. I mean pizness—no 'pology, no breathe. Vas you understand?"

The man began to wince as Fritz closed his terrible gripe.

"Oh, let me up, an' we'll call et squar'," the man gurgled.

"Ven you dells me 'I ax your humble parding'—den I let you up!"

"But I won't!"

"Den I vil squeeze your windpipe, so!"

"I ask your pardon. Oh! yes, I do. Thar, now, let me up!"

Fritz obeyed, and let the ruffian rise from the floor, but just as soon as he was on his feet Bully Jake drew a long knife.

"Oho! I didn't say what I'd do next!" he howled, brandishing the blade, threateningly. "I'll cut your cussed heart out now."

"Vil you, dough? Vel, I'll pet you yoost apout a half-dollar, on dot, I vil!" Fritz cried, drawing and cocking his revolver. "Now, you coome on, uff you vant to get der whole dop off your head plowed off. I can do der job vid greatest of pleasure."

The sight of the revolver caused the big loafer to pause.

"Ye wouldn't shoot, when I'm only in fun, would you?" he asked, incredulously.

"Well, just try me and see, dot's all," was the retort. "Your funniness vas entirely too t'in, mine friendt; I don'd vas like it. So I'll giff you one minnit der git oud. If you don'd vas gone py dot time, I vil shoot you so quicker ash I vould von leedle cat. One! Got ready, all der vile! Swi! High time you vas skinnin' oud! Three! Ven I hollers dot, if you don'd vas gone I spot you!"

"Then, tearfully and sadly, I must tear myself away from you," the ruffian declared, with a grimace, as he stalked toward the door, "I'll allow ye hold ther grip now, but thet ain't sayin' ye'll allus hold it."

Then he took his leave.

Fritz was not sorry. He did not want to hurt any one unless forced to, and yet was bound to defend himself.

Toward evening the loungers, one by one, quitted the tavern, until Fritz and Fat John were the only ones in the bar-room.

Then it was that the latter spoke.

"I say, young feller," he said, "you're a hextrordinary chap, and if it wouldn't be haskin' too much, I'd like to inquire what brings you here?"

"Vel, pizness, I dinks," Fritz replied, "und judgin' py der latest demonstrations, I vil haff lots off id."

"You had better look out sharp for Number One, I tell you, for though this ain't counted no hard town, they ginerally pitch onto a stranger and try to bulldoze him into leavin' by settin' Bully Jake onto him."

"I vas tumbled to dot already," Fritz replied; "but der virst one vot attempted it didn't make so much success."

"No; but that ain't saying you'll have as big luck next time. You see, his honor, Mr. Greyville, owns most of the property hereabouts, an' he's as big feeling as a duke, and won't allow no one around 'cept what bows to his will."

"Vel, ve vil see apoud dot," Fritz muttered. "I dinks dey don'd vas make mooch bulldozing me. I vant to ask you von question—don'd this man Greyville be Captain Gregg, der smuggler?"

The fat host of the Lion's Paw gave a start. The question was evidently something of a surprise to him.

"Why, no, of course not! What ever put such an idea into your head, young man? Gregg the smuggler is said to be one of the worst characters along the Atlantic coast, and at the same time, the most successful in his line of business. Greyville is a man who would scorn to stoop to such work; and, moreover, he is said to be immensely rich in ready cash, though his landed property is mortgaged for its full value."

Fritz accepted this explanation without reply, but his mind was but little changed in the matter.

"I dinks Gregg und Greyville vas one und der same parties," he muttered, "und shall not giff up dot opinion until I can haff furder proof von vay or der odder."

As soon as the gloaming of evening began to settle over the quiet little hamlet, he left the tavern, and sauntered down the street toward the Honorable Granby Greyville's residence, whither most of the villagers had already wended their way.

On arriving at the front of the handsome lawn, with its winding walks, large shade trees, beds of flowers, and attractive residence, Fritz paused to survey the scene that was spread out before him.

Here and there dotted about among the shade trees were tables spread with tempting viands, to which the villagers were freely helping themselves, and to the flowing pitchers of ale that were passed around by several of the village maidens.

A couple of Italians were making music upon violin and harp, which sounded weird and enchanting; children were playing and romping about the grounds; Chinese lanterns were strung about among the lower branches of the trees, and altogether it was a festive and attractive scene.

From his position outside the fence Fritz could see nothing of either Greyville or the alleged countess, and he resolved to enter the grounds for that purpose, which he accordingly did, and sauntered about leisurely, as if he had a perfect right there by invitation.

Although many curious glances were leveled at him, he paid no attention to them, and after walking around awhile, he leaned up against a tree and looked on, studying every face within the reach of his gaze.

Presently there was a shout among the assembled villagers, and upon this, the door of the mansion opened, and Mr. Greyville came forth upon the grounds, with the countess leaning upon his arm.

His honor, was attired in a suit of immaculate white duck, with a massive gold chain strung across his vest and a superb diamond pin upon his shirt front.

The countess was a Frenchwoman, of some three-and-thirty years, with a thin, angular face, bead-like black eyes, and hair to match, and a thin compressed mouth, which when she laughed showed two rows of pearly teeth. She also wore an abundance of paint and powder upon her face, and what with her rich attire of silk, lace, and diamonds, was a striking and peculiar-looking personage—a woman who looked crafty, and capable of mischief.

As soon as she and the Honorable Greyville advanced upon the lawn, the villagers arose from the tables, and the women courtesied low, while the men swung their hats and sent up a rousing cheer.

The countess and her escort then moved about here and there, with a pleasant word for all, and a bidding for them to continue their feast.

As they passed near where Fritz stood leaning against the tree, Greyville gave him a sharp, stern glance, and said:

"Ah! who are you, and what do you want here, sir?"

"Nothing in particular," Fritz replied, returning his stare, calmly. "I only see vot you vas haff a pic-nig, und I come in to look on."

"Then begone, sir, at once! I allow no loafers around here. Go, I say!" and then they passed on.

Fritz did not go, however, but retained his position, in defiance.

"Shorge Vashingdon made dis a free coundry, und I von'd go dil I gits ready," he muttered.

It was not long, however, before he was hastily approached by a man, and that man no less a person than the same flashily attired individual who had taken the young woman, Madge, away from the hotel, at Atlantic City!

"Hello! get out of this, you loafer!" he cried seizing Fritz by the shoulder, roughly. "How many times do you have to be told to go? The guv'nor said go—now, if you don't light out, I'll make your heels break your neck."

"Vil you, dough!" Fritz grinned, wrenching loose, and standing on the defensive. "Yoost you keep your hands off vrom me, Griffith Gregg, or I vil knock der whole top off your nose off."

"What! you vagabond! you compare me with the smuggler's son? I'll thump your skull for that piece of impudence."

And he was as good as his word, for, raising a stout cane he carried, he brought it heavily down upon the young detective's head.

For a moment Fritz was nearly stunned, but he quickly recovered, and sprung at his assailant, pluckily.

"Oh! you snoozer!" he cried, "I vil plack your eye mit plue, for dot."

And he did deal the honorable's son two severe whacks between the eyes, in rapid succession, which had the effect to land him on his back on the ground.

"Thump me on der head, vil you?" Fritz cried, standing over him, ready to give him another rap, if he attempted to rise. "I'll pet you a half-dollar you vil got left, on dot."

"Let me up, you dastardly loafer!" young Greyville raved, not daring to rise under the existing circumstances. "I'll murder you, for this, I—I'll—"

"Got your head proke, off you come mit your foolishness around me!" Fritz cried. "I'll let you oop, dough, ash I must go!"

He saw a half a dozen of the village roughs coming toward the spot, and knew he was ill-prepared to battle with all of them. So with a few dextrous bounds he leaped away out of the yard, and ran swiftly down to the beach.

Finding that they did not follow him, he soon after made his way up the street again, to the tavern, and went to the room which had been assigned him.

"I'll pet der vil pe some droubles before I got t'rough mit dis pizness," he muttered, "but I vas der man who vil come oud der winner."

He was soon off in a sound sleep, from which he, hours later, awakened, with a violent start.

The scene was changed.

He was not in the tavern, on the bed, but instead, was bound hand and foot, and lying in the bottom of a boat!