The Portland daily press., 1873-09-06

Dack from Jne street. "A udIlo" ''iNJ 40" ny
its side. and here and there in a window of
the house, a feeble glimmer OF candle
showed that its inhabitants were alive and
awake. Else. in its nameless horror of dark
ness and desoation, it might have seemed tn.
abode of night and death. The young report
er stood on the sidewalk, looking at the house.
An unaccountable sensation of terror pre-
vented his entering. Something rubbed
against his feet-it was a miserable cat,
scared and starved, that seemed to expect
comfort in the nearness of some living crea-
ture. Mr. Reed stopped to stroke the poor
animal, but she, with a scream and spring,
fed into the darkness. The reporter, without
anayzing his feeling, experienced profound
Loneliness. He was brave man, and not ac-
customed to causeless fancies. With an effort
he entered the door of the dismal tenement
house, which closed behind him with dull
sound. After short time, be came back, his
notes of the fearful place completed. He
could not resist the vague depression which
penetrated him; he drew from his pocket a
cigar and was about to light it, when he was
startled by the sound of neighboring clock.
He counted eight strokes-a ninth-and the
wor's written upon the slip Of paper which
he had found, occurred to him.
''The hour has come" he said, ''and now
for the manr'
Whether involving himself in an affair so
mysterious as the present adventure prom
;ead to no xroul1 ondapuer his life or oo,,,
promise his good name among journalists-he
did not reflect. An excitement, the result Of
the strange scene and the singular crcum-
stances in which he found himself, took pos
session of his mind; and he even looked for
ward eagerly to the denouement Of his adven-
ture. The affair must be of nature to afford
him brilliant item for the Daily Latimida-
tor. A report of a crime, by ''our specialize
porter on the spot could not fail to be novel,
unique, graphic. A sincere love of his pro-
great master-works of music, painting or
architecture; an enthusiasm like that which
inspires the patriot-impelled the reporter to
continue this plan, which already presented
unknown and perhaps fatal difficulties.
CHAPTER II.
A Rendezcous-U Under False ColorS- On
Guard,
He had waited but few moments when
his quick ear caught the sound of footsteps
that somewhat cautiously approached from
lower down the avenue, As they came near
er Mr.. Reed saw two men, who, he at once
concluded were concerned in the affair in
which he so strangely was about to take part
One of these men gave low, peculiar whis-
tie, which the reporter initiated as we'll as he
could; and pulling his hat forward over his
face. and standing in the shadow of the build
ing, he awaited the coming of the men,
whom he already considered as his accom-
| plices. What he was about to do he had nc
idea; but trusted to his ready wit and hon
esty of purpose to carry him safely through
whatever events might occur
''It isn't Dickr' he heard one of the men
say; ''its too TALL"
s'It's Jacob" answered the other
''The Brooklyn man?"
eyes. Dick says he's sharp-I don't know
him."
Again one of the men whistled, and again
Mr.. Reed replied to the signal. A hand was
laid on his shoulder-he started. 1t was one
Of these men-the bonditti of New York.
Thev are no less formidable than those of
Italy. They make no pretension to sugar
loaf hats, jewelled daggers, and crimson
sashes-a costume very inconvenient except
upon the boards ofthe Academy-but thieves
------a esa---i--e,, -rAze,,aaa. ,aoro-das-
| perate, do not exist. With them, robbery is
| a science, fine art-and it is an even chance
at best, if the most skilfu detectives, with all
the force Of law and right to support theil
| shrewdness, are able to contend successfully
against these thieves.
'You got the note, then? ?" said the man
who had touched Mr.. Reeds shoulder
YES"
81 was afraid it was lost on the way-you
didn't answer
81 couldn't answer-for reasons"
The man eyed him with little suspicion.
"Whats your name?'
81 am called Jacob" answered the report.
er.
A sudden horror seized him-who then was
! this Jacob-this man, undoubtedly wicked
whose name and responsibility he had so sud-
| denly assumed?
cts all right" said the man who had not
before spoken.
The three men walked quickly up the ave-
| nue., one of the strangers beside the reporter,
the other few steps behind, until they
emerged from the miserable haunts that had
been chosen as their rendezvous, and soon
found themselves in an alley, narrow but
quite clean. On either side lowered stone
and brick buildings-the backs of warehouses
and banks. Everything was profoundly quiet
although it was still early in the evening.
The buildings were devoted for the most part
to storage of merchandise, bales of costly
goods filing their immense lofts, while their
small, dingy offices were often the theatre oil
operations in money that shook the financial
foundations of the whole country. After six
O'Clock in the afternoon they are closed ior
the night; and on the rainy evening of our
story, even the night watchmen who guard
them, had taken shelter from the storm, oc,
casionally looking out from their places OF
safety to assure themselves that all was tran
quill.
One Of his companions turned toward Mr..
Reed.
"You're SURG, Jacob, that the money has
been sent from Brooklyn to the bank?''
''Undoubtedly,'' answered the reporter, at
hazard.
''Can you use file?"
Il suppose So"
This reply, dictated by the retiring diff
dence that qualified Mr.. Reed for his place of
reporter, was considered as good joke by
the bank-thieves, TO whom the suppo5ittious
Jacob was the embodiment of predatory sci
ence. One Of them drew from his pocket
some curious looking instruments, selected
from among them a file and offered it to Mr..
Reed. He took it mechanically.
''You don't hold it very WE'LL observed the
other thief.
'No," replied the reporter with little
confusion; San accident to my hand-a week
auO--it's little stiff vet -