Chapter 12

A Mysterious Letter.

Andy walked out into the street, feeling very ill-used and indignant, and was for hurrying away as quickly as possible, forgetting for the moment that he had determined on a certain course to pursue.

"I thought fer sure yer was in fer a trip to the island," said a voice behind him.

Andy turned and there was Pete following after him.

"Oh, is that you, Pete? I had forgotten all about you. Where did you come from?"

"Yer didn't think I'd give yer the go-by now, did yer?" asked Pete, in an injured tone. "I was waitin' fer yer all the time. I don't go back on a pardner like that. Why, if they'd shipped yer up to the island, I'd a' been there to say good-by to yer, an' don't yer ferget it. Yer give me a breakfast this morning, didn't yer? Yer licked them fellers, didn't yer? Well, Pete, if he's got only one name, don't go back on yer. See? An' that settles it."

It was not an elegant speech, and Pete was an uncommonly disreputable-looking lad, with his grimy face and hands and his tattered garments, but there was a ring of gratitude and earnestness in his tone that went straight to Andy's heart, and he held out his hand with:

"You're the right sort, Pete."

"Anyhow, I don't go back on a pardner," said Pete, shaking the proffered hand awkwardly.

Andy was in need of sympathy at just that moment, and he was really very glad of the friendship of the little waif, who was so old in experience if so young in years.

He would not have selected Pete for a friend and confidant; but there he was, at hand, with his sympathy ready, and Andy was moved to take him into his confidence.

"I say, Pete," he began, and stopped.

"Say it," said Pete.

But at that moment Andy had caught sight of his man with the child, and he exclaimed: "Do you see that man, Pete?"

"The feller that was on the wharf? I see him."

"I want to follow him."

"Nobody's hinderin' yer."

"But he knows me, and if he sees me following him, he will know what I am after. Don't you see?"

"I'm fly. Yer want me ter do the trick. Good! Yer know me? I'm Lynx-eyed Bill, the terror of the force. Git onter my lynx eye."

Whether he had a lynx eye or not, he certainly was a very shrewd little scamp, for he left Andy's side and hurried nearer to the man and child; and so, followed by Andy at a considerable distance, he kept after them.

The mother of the child and some sympathizing friends were with them, and there was no difficulty in keeping them in sight as long as they remained together.

Mr. Roberts went with them, however, only to the cars, where he left them, evidently with many apologies for the trouble he had been the cause of putting them all to, for Pete, and even Andy, from his distance, could see him bowing many times over.

As soon as the car took them away, he looked all around with seeming carelessness, though it was plain to the boys that he was scrutinizing everybody anxiously.

Andy jumped out of sight at once, and when he peered around his corner again the advantage of having Pete help him was evident.

Mr. Roberts had disappeared, but Pete was visible just as he was hurrying around a corner, and so Andy was enabled to follow again.

If he had been asked just what he expected to gain by following the man he could not have told. It was merely that it had entered his head that if Mr. Roberts was concerned, as he believed, in the kidnapping of Regy, and if Regy had not yet been taken out of the country, then Mr. Roberts would be likely to do something or go somewhere that would betray Regy's hiding place to him.

Mr. Roberts walked over to Broadway and down it a few blocks to a liquor saloon, which he entered. Pete was turning it over in his sharp brains how he could contrive to follow him in there without attracting his attention, when he suddenly came out again and walked briskly up Broadway.

Pete reasoned that he had not been in there long enough to get a drink, and he was just reproaching himself for not having followed him into the saloon, when Mr. Roberts drew a letter out of the side pocket of his sack coat, and with a preliminary glance around, read it, and then thrust it back into his pocket and showed relief in every movement.

He was no longer in a hurry, but sauntered along in leisurely fashion, and was no further concerned, apparently, as to whether or not he was followed.

Pete turned this over in his mind and came to a conclusion. The letter was the thing that had had the sudden soothing effect on the man; then the letter was probably about the child Andy was hunting for. If so, it was only necessary to get the letter and give it to Andy and the matter would be ended.

Andy would have despaired of getting the letter, if he had been near enough to observe all that had taken place, and so would most other persons; but Pete had had a training which, fortunately, most persons have not had, and it was a comparatively small matter to him to obtain the letter.

He turned his sleeve up, so that his hand and wrist were clear and free, and then quickened his pace and drew nearer to where Mr. Roberts was sauntering along. He kept close behind him for a block or more, walking as if he had not a thing on his mind.

Presently there was one of those sudden gatherings of people on the sidewalk, such as are of common occurrence in every large city.

Then Pete pressed close to the side of Mr. Roberts, taking care to be on the side where the pocket containing the letter was. Mr. Roberts did not know it--you would not have seen it had you been there--but the grimy hand of Pete went in and out of that side pocket like a flash of lightning, and it held the letter when it came out.

What would Andy say to that way of obtaining the letter? That was the very question Pete put to himself after the missive was safe in his pocket.

He had had an example of Andy's notions of honesty, and it spoke volumes for Andy's influence on him that he did not propose to let his "pardner" know how he had obtained the letter.

"I'll bet a quarter," said Pete to himself, as he fell back to where he knew Andy would be, "that he'd be jest fool ernough ter give the chump the letter back ag'in."

When he was where he could beckon Andy he did so, and the latter hastened up to him.

"Here's a letter," explained Pete. "He dropped it. Mebbe it has somethin' in ter tell yer what yer want ter know."

"Dropped it?" said Andy, taking the letter doubtfully, but not suspecting the way in which it had been obtained.

"Ya-as, an' I picked it up," replied Pete, unblushingly. "Go on an' read it, why don't yer?"

It seemed to Andy that it would be no more than fair to read it under the circumstances, and he opened it and did so. It was without signature, and read as follows:

"Gone with Uncle Mike! Watch the Mirror."

Andy's disappointment at the contents of the letter was plainly shown on his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Pete, curiously.

"I can't understand it," answered Andy.

"Can't yer read writin'?" was Pete's surprised inquiry.

"Of course I can," replied Andy; "but I can't make anything out of this."

"What does it say?" asked Pete.

They were walking along as they talked, and Pete constantly kept his eye on Mr. Roberts.

Andy read the letter to him.

"Lay low!" exclaimed Pete, suddenly, pulling Andy around a corner. "He's missed the letter. He'll be back ter hunt fer it."

"I'll stay here," said Andy. "You keep your eye on him."

Pete went out to Broadway again, and Andy saw him disappear hastily around the corner.

He knew by that that his man could not be approaching, so he peered around the corner and saw Pete on the edge of the sidewalk looking every way. Mr. Roberts was nowhere in sight.

Pete hunted and Andy hunted, but neither could obtain a glimpse of him, and Andy was in the depths of despair.

"It's no use," said Andy, at last; "he's gone, and my chance has gone with him."

Pete looked sympathetic and downcast.

"I s'pose it's my fault," he said, dismally.

"No, it's my fault," said Andy. "I should have kept my eye on him all the time."

"Yer've got the letter," reminded Pete, by way of consolation.

"What's the use of the letter when I can't understand it?" replied Andy.

"What don't yer understand?" asked Pete.

"Any of it 'What does 'Gone with Uncle Mike' mean? What does 'Watch the Mirror' mean?"

"Huh!" said Pete. "I can tell yer that much."

"You can."

"Yer bet I can. Come on, an' I'll show yer."

Andy looked suspicious and doubtful. How could Pete be so knowing as that? If he could not understand the letter, how could Pete?

Pete, however, led him without a word, but with a wonderfully knowing air, along several blocks, and finally stopped at a news stand and looked it over.

"That the last Mirror, boss?" he asked, of the man in charge.

"Yep."

"Give it ter me?"

And Pete handed over his quarter, received his change and a paper and then led Andy up a side street and gave the paper to him.

Andy saw that its name was the Mirror, and that it was devoted to theatrical news. That was enough to give him confidence in Pete's intelligence, but he was in the dark yet.

"I see so much," he said; "but I don't understand about Uncle Mike."

"Andy," said Pete, with a compassionate air, "yer a dandy with yer dukes, an' yer square as a brick; but yer ain't cut yer eye-teeth yet. Gimme the paper an' let me show yer."

Andy gave him the paper and the knowing Pete took it and turned to the back pages.

"There!" said he, pointing to a column beaded "Dates Ahead." "Look at that an' see if Uncle Mike ain't mentioned."

Andy, with a glimmering of Pete's idea, looked along the column until he came to "U," and there he saw, at the head of the list, "Uncle Mike Co.; Philadelphia, July 8--week."

He read it aloud to Pete, and Pete nodded his head, as if to say, "Of course, I knew you'd find it."

"Does it mean that Uncle Mike is a theatrical company?" asked Andy, eagerly.

"That's what it means, sonny, an' it means that Uncle Mike is goin' ter play Philadelf fer the week wot begins on the eighth. So all yer've got ter do is ter add that up an' there yer air. What! ain't we on ter his nibs? Oh, no, I guess not!"

And Pete dashed his old hat down over his eyes and strutted around.

"You think my man is going on there to join the company?" asked Andy.

"Naw. The man with the kid is in Philadelf. That's the way I lay it out."

"That's it," cried Andy. "I see! He wanted to get away on the steamer, and Mr. Roberts was afraid there would be detectives on the watch; so he dressed the little boy up just like Regy to make the trial first. Then, when he found that the steamer would be watched, the man with Regy went to Philadelphia."

"That sounds like it," said Pete, approvingly.

"Yes," continued Andy; "but I don't understand what Uncle Mike has to do with it."

"No more do I," answered Pete. "But I tell yer what yer can do. Yer can go on an' find out."

"Go to Philadelphia?" exclaimed Andy.

"Why not?"

"It'll take too much money."

"Huh! won't take a cent."

"Why not?"

"How fur is it?"

"I don't know. About a hundred miles, I think."

"Well, yer can walk, can't yer? Terday's the fifth, ain't it? That gives yer till the eighth, an' a week more. It won't take us that long;"

"Us?"

"Yes. I'll go along ter take care o' yer."

Andy considered a moment.

"See here, Pete," he said, presently, "how do you come to know so much about what the letter meant?"

"Been there," answered Pete.

"Been where?"

"In the show business. Greatest knock-about juvee-nile all-around dance artist in the world! That's me. Too much knock-about fer me, an' I skipped. Tra-la-la!"

And Pete made a comical show of skipping away.

It seemed to account for Pete's extreme shrewdness, and Andy had no difficulty in believing him. He weighed the reasons for and against going to Philadelphia after Regy on the strength of the letter.

It was only a chance that Regy would be found there; but it was a chance, and he could not bear to throw it away. And why should he? There was only the thought of his mother to deter him, and he was certain that she would be easy about him if he wrote to her.

"Let's go, Pete. I'll write to mother and then we'll start."

"Have yer got a mother?" asked Pete, with a sort of eagerness.

"Yes," said Andy, "and a father, too. I'll tell you about them and what I'm after soon as I get a chance. Come on while I buy a sheet of paper."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[_This Story began in No. 49._]

Mind Before Muscle;

or,

TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS.

by J.W. DAVIDSON,

Author of "Spud," "Hardy & Co.," "Rob Archer's Trials," "Limpy Joe," "Harry Irving's Pluck," etc., etc., etc.