Tales of CeletirHied Highwaymen ^ BY THE AUTHOR OF TOM KING, CLAUDE DUVAL ETC.. ETC.. ETC '■'"^P NEW YORK: DICK & FITZGERALD, PUBLISHERS, \o. IS AKN STREET U.OR?. ^.N Price Tiventv-Five Gents. ""l^ DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY treasure %2om THE ADVENTDBES FEARLESS FRED, THE OUTLAW. BY THB SDtfior of -Ned Scarlet;" "Dick Cllntou:" -Clande Dnval;" "IPaul CUBatAf "Tom Kiag;" "Capt. Hawk;" Ac, Aa VIW TOKJC; DICK A FITZGERALD, FUBLI8HIB8 FEARLESS FRED; THE HIGHWAYMAN OP HOUNSLOW HEATH, CHAPTER t rjRST APPEARANCE OF FEARLESS FRED. Some years ago, on a raw November day, there was considerable stir in the neigborhood of St. Giles on account of a fiae looking male child that bad been found singularly stowed away in one corner of the top-row of a celebrated beer show. Old Boniface, whose name was Ralph Jewel — and a jewel of an old boy he was — appeared so anxious to deny the pa- ternity of the foundling that many a black-eyed lass who frequented that part of London dared to suspect that he knew more about the matter than he was will- ing to confess, and that, notwithstanding the fact that there was no more resem- blance between the supposed father and the child than there is between a noble war-horse and aD asthmatic pair of bel lows. The sly winks and wise looks that passed from one to the other exasperated old Jewel beyond all bounds. He »tamp- ed about the floor with his wooden leg, and fire shot from his one rnd eye, as if he was ready to do battle with a host in defence of his innocence. " But what will you do with the lad?' inquired Botany Bay Nell — a strapping lass who Lad just returned from a seven years' tran.sportation — as she placed her arms akimbo and straddled in front of the indignant landlord. " Throw him into the Thames T cried mine host thrusting out his wooden leg and bringing the end of it down on the floor with such violence as to make all the glasses and empty decanters ring again. " That you shall not," cried Nell, pick- ing up the urchin and stowing him into a big basket as if he had been a wadding of dirty clothes. " I will take charge of the brat as if I was his mother, and who knows but when I have given him an education and brought him up in the way he should go, he may take care of me in my old age, and bring me in the blunt, when I am too old to " " To take dummies for yourself," in- terrupted Ralph Jewel — "ha! ha! ha wnea you get too old for that, Nell, it will be because scragging has gone clear out of date. You were never born to 1 ^ ( :t 1 1 a 1 d u i j 'i , a a l'aa y :^ i FEARLESS FRED. naako old bones ; and the doril help the brat after the bringing up that you will give him. But take him along, Noll ; he might have fell into worse hands" — the last words being added on account of a tiger-like expression of the eyes which the lusty girl cast upon her interlocutor, and also the fact that Nell was no indif- ferent customer at the Black Horse From that moment, nothing was heard of the foundling in that corner of the city of London, except that h^ was nam- ed Frederick and was regularly sent to the parish sohool by Nell Pritthand, commonly known as Botany Bay Nell — a euphonious title by which she was known in her absence, though few cared to give her that appellation when within earshot of the strapping graduate of New Uollaud. CHAPTER IL fEARLKSS FRED AND JANE — THE CEDAR BOX. It was about nineteen years from the period in which our scene opens, that a fracas occurred in the streets of London^ at the hour of midnight, which caused no little alarm to the denizens in the im- mediate neighborhood of the transaction. Loud cries were beard, expressive of great wrath on the part of some of the parties, while from the midst of the up- roar went up one solitary, wild scream iu which the voice of afcmalewajid^t'ct- ed. :) i>n,-i u nw< On hastening to the spot, the watch- man found a well-dressed young woman of some eighteen or twenty years of age in the hands of half a dozen ruffians, while a young fellow, neatly dressed as a seaman was belaboring them with a cudgel, and endeavoring to rescue the girl from their clutches. By the aid of the watchman, this was quickly done, and then the girl sprang into the nrras of ihe -;-. v young fellow whom she very affectionate- , ly called her dear Fred. ' ' '^ "Jane," said he, "you are not hurt, I hope ?" Before she could reply, a tall raw-boned fellow who had just released the girl from his grasp on a hint from the watchman's club, came up and de- manded the youth as a common highway- man, and declared that ho had stolen the girl from the house of a certain Count- ess, and he was come to recapture her ; to which the girl replied — " no — no — the Countess is my enemy, and has ill-treat- ed me. I will go with Fred." Before anything more could be said, the young man and the girl walked ofl together. "I am Peter Bay ley," said the tall man, " and have been sent with these of- ficers to apprehend the girl and return her to the Ouuntess from whom she has escaped," and he pointed to throe men who came clustering around him. But it was too late. Fred and Jane had turned the first corner, and though the watchman went a little way with Bayley and his men to look for them, they were not to be found. '*' You are Peter Bayley, the famous thief taker," said one of the watchmen. " Why did you not say it at the time, and things might have turned up dififer- ently ?" " You know who I am now." said Pe- ter Bayley, "and this night's work will cost you dear. There have slipped out of my hands two of the most abandoned wretches in all England. Look out for yourselves, I shall remember you." The watchmen skulked off with eyes cast down, and yet with low muttering* which denoted that although the notori- ous thief-taker might be feared, yet he was also hated quite as much as ho wan dreaded. Leaving Peter Bayley to curse hid FEARLESS FRED. 8 Btars and the uitrnsive charleys, we will follow upon the footsteps of the young couple, and see what became of them. They ran. rather than walked, along the silent streets of the city, something less than two miles, when they reached an old house, constructed in the ancient style standing in the midst of a wide green, and partly surrounded by lime trees and elms. Having tapped at the door, it was opened to them by a man in a blue coat and corduroy pants, who hurried them in and shut the door quickly. " Well, Blake,' said the yof th, « what is the news ?" " Nothing except that Peter Bayley and his men have been watching this house all the afternoon, and I think it pretty certain that he knows the cedar box is concealed within its walls." " Then no time is to be lost," said Fred. " Here are two young girls who are thrown, by circumstances upon my pro- tection. This one," pointing to a tall young woman who was in the house, " has need to keep out of sight for a few days, while my Jane here has every reason to dread the unprincipled Bayley. This cedar box certainly contains some- thing of vast importance to Jane, and must be kept out of the clutches of Peter Bayley, whose very eagerness to seize it, affords presumptive evidence that some wrong is intended towards Jane. The treatment that she has received from the Countess, from whom she ha->? fled, is another proof that a plot of some kind is hatching against her peace. At least, we cannot venture out again together." " No ; you would be certain to en- counter him or some of bis myrmidons. You must hide yourself until his visit of inspection is over. I have been with him in this house before, and I noticed that there was a narrow staircase that leads t« a flat part of the roof at the top of it. There, I thint you will be in perfect security, for Bayley has no mo- tive to take him un there, and his time is too much occupied for him to go mere* ly for the view of old Islington that he would get from that place.'* " Hush I" said Fred. " What if that ?" "What do you hear?" " The tread of horses' feet in the street, unless I am much mistaken." *' Then it is Peter himself" Blake flew to the street door, and shot one of the bolts into its socket. " He can't get in now," he said, " un* til I open the door to him. Get your friends to go at once to the hiding place I have mentioned." " I will. Come this way.'' Fred led Blake into the back parlor, and quieted the alarm that his sudden appearance gave to Jane and Eliza, by saying — " This is a friend. He warns us of the approach of Peter Bayley ; wc must hide ourselves at once." " Oh," said Blake, « what will he think of this breakfast set out here ?" " Say it Is yours," said Fred., as he caught up two of the tea-cups and threw them into the fire. "There is but one cup now, and he may think that yon liked to make yourself comfortable." " I will try so to impose upon him, but that must not be any hindrance to your hiding. Follow me at once." Bang ! came a knock at the door, and then it was followed by a idttling peal at the bell, which Bayley had found out the position of, although it was so secret- ly placed as to completely elude all or- dinary observation ; but the prying eyee of Peter were not easily to be deceived. " Quick— quick !" said Blake. Fred assisted Jane, and Eliza follow- ed as well as she could, and they all got to the upper story of the house with FEARLESS FRED. tolerable expedition. Eliza knew very well the door that opened to a spiral staircase leading to the flat leads at the top of the house, and in the course of half a minute more they had all three passed through the little door, and Blake was hurrying down stairs again, for Bay- ley had knocked with such fury as show- ed hira that it aeemed as if he were de- termined to have the door down if uo one came quickly in answer to his summons Blake was almost breathless with the haste that he made when he flung the door open. Peter B.iyley, with four men at his heels, made a rush into the passage. "What's the meaning of this?" he cried. '• Why am I kept waiting at the door ? Is there any trickery going on here?" '• Trickery, sir ?" "Yes. That was the word. I said trickery, and I mean it " " He would need to be a bold man, Mr. Bayley, that would try anything like trickery towards you, sir. I am not yet tired of my life. The fact is, there is an old mulberry-tree in the garden, and I was looking at it, and could not get to the door very soon," " So it seems." " Did you knock more than once, sir V' "You know I did." " It isn't for me to contradict you, Mr. Bayley ; but the fact is, that I don't know anytliing of the sort. I heard a knock that was enough to batter the door down, and a violent ring; but I beard nothing before that." " Bah !" "Very good, sir." The four oflScers who were with Bay- ley, could not help smiling at the imper- turbable coolness of Blake; and Bayley, after regarding him now for a few min- nteg in silence, said — " How long have you been here ?" '• About an hour, sir." " Liar ! you were seen at the end erf the street not a quarter of an hour ago." " Oh, yes." V " And yet you say you have been here an hour ?" " I don't deny that I went out to get A drop of milk to take with my bi-eakfast, as I had got it all nicely and snugly ready before it struck nine, for I could not take it without '' " Oh, iudeed. And, pray, where did you prepare this nice and snug breakfast, Mr. Blake ?" " In the back parlor, sir." " Indeed ! We shall soon see wlieth- er or not there is any truth in that. You ought to have been here an hour and more ago, for I ^^ent you ; but by the devil I doubt you, Mr. Blake." " Certainly, sir. ty all means." " Curse this house," muttered Bayley. " and all that were ever in it. It is an eye-sore to me. and every time I come to it I am inclined to set light to it, but that 1 still suspect there are secrets hid- den within its old walls that I want to get at. Oh, for that cedar box 1 Hark you, my men !" " Yes, Mr. Bayley," said the officers " There is a sm.iU cedar box, contain ing papers that I want very particular ly ; I have some reason to believe that it is still hidden in this house somewhere, notwithstanding the search I have al ready made in it, and I hear offer a hun- dred pound note for it if any of you can fir*d it. Don't let a hole or corner es- c .pe you, and I will wait for you in this room " CHAPTER III ANOTHER DISAPPOINTMENT. Blaxe knew as well as possible, ay. as well as if Peter Bayley had whispered 10 FEARLESS FRED. the fact into his ear, that he wag mis- trusted, and that, although Bayley had a notion that he was a man of ability, that he would not scruple for a moment to put him to death, as there was erery •■eason to believe he had done to others. While these things were going on be- low, Fred and the two girls had ascend- ed to the roof where they escaped the prying eyes of Peter Bayley and his officers who. after searching every spot in the old mansion, took their depar- ture with much grumbling and awful swearing on the part of Peter Bayley. As soon as they were gone, Fred de- scended from the roof with the girls, and while the latter remained under the protection of iilake, the former repaired to the cellar. After groping hia way some minutes In this damp and mouldy region, he came to a spot in one corner upon which lay a small flat stone, having removed which, he began to dig up the earth with a rusty case knif« which ha found near the spot. After a time, the knife struck against ijomething hard, and then laying down the knife, he used his fingers to renwve the loose earth. In another minute, he drew from the mouldy soil a small box, at which he evinced great joy. He exclaimed with delight, as he felt the box — " it's here, and I live and breathe again. All's right. I must have buried it deeper than I thought, or it has worked down through the damp ground of its own ac- cord. Never mind, so long as I have it." With the precious box for Fred could not but believe that it was precious in some way — clutched to his breast, he began to ascend the stairs. He heard the rats screaming in hideous chorus, and far off in the obscurity of the cel- lar he now saw some hundreds of their eyes glaring at him. They seemed to have oollerted in force, as though they had really, as those creatures will do at times, met to attack him, and try to over- power him by numbers. " Take that," said Fred as he threvf the still red-hot stick among them, and then the scampering that ensued, and the squeaking, convinced him that it had gone among a mob of them." In another moment, Fred was in the passage. " I have it — I have it !" he cried. " Thank God for that," said Jane. " And so say I," cried Blake. '' Let us leave this place." Fred placed Jane's arm within his own, and smiling upon her, he said — " Dear Jane, you shall not now for an- other moment be exposed to the terrors of this house. I know that to you they must be very great and serious; but come away, dear one, and never mind the past. I have a hope that in this mysterious little box is contained infor- mation of the greatest importance. Open the door, Blake." "With pleasure," said Blake. The street door was opened, and out they all four sallied into the street. — Fred thought for a moment, and then turning to the right, he said, '* Let us go thij way at once. It don't matter whether we go east, west, north or south, so that we get away from this place, and leave as great a distance between us and Peter Bayley as possible.' " That is it," said Blake. " We have only that man to dread in all the world. Oh, would that he were no more. They do say that he has sold himself to the devil, and has a charmed life." "Stuff!" said Pred. If Peter had sold himself to old Nick he would have made a better bargain than he has ; and. besides, you don't suppose that the devil would be so stupid as to buy any one that, in the regular course of nature, h« would be sure to have for nothing ?" FEARLESS FRED. 11 " Fred,** said Jane, as she pressed bis arm, '^ I d^n't like to hear you talk in that strain.'' " Then I won't." " You will oblige me very much, in deed, by so doing, Fred. It may be pre- judice in me, but I dislike levity upon anything that has a tendency to produce thoughts of an hereafter." " That 8 a capital sermon,'' said Fred, laughing, '" and I stand convicted ac- cordingly. On — on. Let us get out of breath the first mile, and then we can go as easy as you all like." To tell the truth, they none of them wanted much urging to get out of the neighborhood of that dismal old house. " I wish I had set fire to the old house, Jane." •' Oh, no— no I" "Why not?" "There are neijrhboura, you know, Fred and they might have suffered." There is no knowing what sort of dis- closure Fearless Fred's modesty might have induced him to make, but he was cut short in his reply by seeing a lady on horseback approachiog, followed by a groom in very rich livery, indeed. The lady was passing on, but at the eight of Jane, she uttered an exclamation, which induced her to look round, and then she seemed to be quite as much struck by the appearance of Jane as Jane had been at her. '' Good Heavens !" cried the lady. >■ It is " She was evidently upon the point of pronouncing some name, but prudence restrained it upon her lips. She rode up to Fred and Jane, and in a voice, the agitation of which was so great that she could hardly speak articulately, she said, or rather tried to say — •'Who are you, young man, and what ao you do in the society of this girl, wbtse protector I am?" " Oh, no, no !'' said Jan«. " Fred, this is the countess who so cruelly per- secuted me, and from whom you rescued me." '• Girl, girl !'' cried the countess, fot it was, indeed that rather unscrupulous personage. "Girl, what do you mean? Nothing but ignorance can induce you to speak in such a strain. Come with me this moment. I tell you now, once and for all, that I have a right to com- mand you." " Jane," said Fred, with all the oool- ness in the world, " are you sure of the identity of this woman ?" " Oh, yes, yes !" said Jane. " I know her too well." " Who is it that dares to address such language to me?'' cried the countess. " Woman, indeed !" " Madam," said Fred, " I really beg your pardon if you are not a woman. To be sure, your conduct towards this young girl was anything but womanly ; but I am very glad to have met you." " Indeed, rascal ! and what fori" "Because I shall hold you fast till I can give you into the custody of the po- lice, on a charge of stealing this girl from her home, and tempting her to commit a serioui offence against the law." Fred laid hold of the horse by the bit as he spoke, and for a moment or two her Ladyship was evidently too much amazed and enraged to reply to him. Then she struck him with her riding whip, upon which Fred snatched it from her hands and broke it in two, casting the fragments to the ground. " I believe you are a woman," ho said, " although you deny it; but if I had be- lieved you were not, I would have ram- med that riding whip down your throat.'' "Insolent wretch I William — Wil- liam, I say ! Where's my groom J Where is William?'' 19 FEARLESS FRED. " Oh," said H ake, " be*B all right, my Udy." Upon this, Fred looked in the direc- tion whence Blake's voice came from. and he saw that he was pointing a pistol at the head of the groom, whose hat had fallen oflf, and whose hair was standing on end with terror, lest he should he shot. " William ^' cried the countess, " are you going to see me stopped and mal- treated and robbed on the highway, and do nothing ?" " Beg pardon, my lady," said William. " but this gentleman with the long pistol Bays as he will blow my head off if I come to you or make any alarm ; and as it is the only head I've got, my lady, I would rather be a little careful of it, you see, my lady." " Cowardly rascal !" " Ah, that's all very well, my lady, bat a pistol is a pistol. Them as lives to run away — fights and lives another day. That ain't quite the right words, but they lets you know, my lady, what I means." " Now, mjidam," said Fred, as he let go the countess' bridle. Now, madam, if you were to live to the age of the pa- triarchs, and if you were to paint an inch thick, I should know you again ; eo you may go." " Jane !'' cried the countess, " I com- mand you to come with me." "I have no reason to obey you, count- ess," s^id Jane. " I do not know you but &s the female who persecuted me, and who played the part of my jailor. I despise and defy you !" "Bravo!" said Blake. "Fred!" "What is it?" " Come closer to me. I want to Bay BOmething to you, if you please." " Fred stepped up close to Blake, who whispered in his car — " Tho horses, Fred — would they not be handy? They are good ones; be sides, as a general thing, it isn't wise t« leave your foes mounted and yourself on foot." " True — true. I did not think of that." '• Well, it is worth thinking of. We can carry off both the girls, you know You can take charge of Miss Jane, and I of the other." " It shall be done. You get posses- sion of the groom's horse, and I will take the countess's." " Good." Blake had no difficulty with the groom, for he was so thoroughly fright- ened, that if he had been ordered to stand on his head, he would at all events have made the attempt ; nor did Fred meet with much difficulty from the countess, for suddenly laying hold of her, he had her off the horse in a minute, notwithstanding her cries for help. " Hold the horse's head, Jane," cried Fred, for the countess would not let go of him, and began to use her nails, with rather more freedom than was at all pleasant, upon his face. " Confound you !" said Fred. '• I don't want to hurt you, but you had bet- ter be quiet. You won't ? Go there, then, and I advise you not to stir, or plump you will go into a ditch." By an effort of strength that was al- most too much for him, Fred lifted the countess to the height of a very broad- topped thorn-hedge that was by the side of the road, and fairly laid her on her back on the top of it. Her weight made her sink down a little, so that she was incapable of helping herself in the least, and with only tho liberty of squalling to any extent. " Stop her bawling," cried Blake. « I can't do that," said Fred. " Let us be off out of car-shot of it, and then wc shall be rid of it." FEARLESS FRED !» Jane wa8 moimted upon the count- ess's horse by Fred , vrho sprang up be- hind her, and Blake took care of the young girl, so that they set off at a capi- tal pace into the country, leaving her ladyship and the groom lamenting. CHAPTER IV. FRED IS OUTGENERALED FOR ONCE IN A WAY. Such a chance as this which had be- fallen Fred and his friends was hardly to have been looked for, and, indeed, the whole affair had been so bewilderingly rapid, that Jane could hardly take upon herself to say wh^t had happened, ere she was galloped off at a rate that was enough to take her breath away. "Oh, Fred— Fred," she said," would it not have been better to let that wo- man go as we met with her?" " Certainly not, my dear Jane. You may depend that she and her groom would only have ridden no far till they had met with some assistance, and then we should have had them after us." They had taken a road which led them towards Stamford Hill, and as he went on, Fred began to ask himself what was to become of Jane. A more painful question than that he could not conceive, for he felt that it would be an iniquitous thing of him to keep her with him ; and yet how to dis- pose of her troubled him much. " Jane," he said. « Yes, Fre 1." " I am thinking that yon ought to be placed in some home where you would be free from all the terrors that beset my mode of life.** Jane began to cry. ** Nay, now," said Fred, " I——" •* Fred— Fred!" cried Blake, at this moment, " we are pursued, Look oyer the hedge to your left, aiwi tell me wha* you see in the fields yonder." Fred did look, and he saw a party of eight men on horseback, coming along at a good pace. The dress and the general appearance of these men were quite suf- ficient to fix them as officers of the po- lice. ' Nabbed, I'm afraid," said Fred. ' Oh, no — no !'' cried Jane. " A stern chase, you know, Fred," said Blake, " is a long chase." "Speak. Fred," said Jane; "wnat would you have me do ?" " In plain language, then," said Fred, " if I am taken, ic will be half of it owing to my anxiety concerning you, Jane, preventing me from taking those meas- ures to save myself, which otherwise might be afforded. Do you understand me? I would have you leave me." 'i Fred, where am I to go ?" "Trust to Blake. Take this money Now, don't cry. Take this little cedai box, too, and guard it with your life. It may be that this is the second time that I have had it in my possession, and yet have been unable to look at it. It is rather strange and provoking that it should be so, for uU that." " No— no !" " Yes, Jane. Do not let me hear yon say no. There is a cluster of cottages in front of us. Stop, there, and all three of you go into one of them and ask for a little rest. I will ride on." " But how shall we meet again ?" "If I escape, I will be to-night, at the hour of twelve, at Tottenham Cross. Blukc will know the place will enough ; but if I am not there at the time, you may depend that something has hap- pened." " Oh, Fred, you had better kill me. " Had I though ? I am of a very dif- ferent opinion, and when I tell you that 14 FEARLESS FRED. I think my chatices of escape depend upon your obeying my instructions in this matter, I don't think you ought to hestate." After this sort of appeal to her, what could Jane say? It was quite impossi- ble that she could resit it. If she did. she must cither say that she set up her own judgment in opposition to Fred's. and that she did not believe that he run more risk with her than without her, or she must say that she was indifferent to that fact. It was not likely that the gentle and aflFectionate girl would embrace either of these propositions, so she said, at once — " Fred, be it as you will." " That is right, Jane They were within a hundred yards jr so of a very pretty little cottage, the garden of which was laid out with ex- ceeding taste and neatness. It was there that Fred wished Jane to go. • " But do you think they will be kind enough to allow us to wait there ?" said Jane, mournfully. " I know, they are a good sort of peo- ple." " You know it, Fred. ? How is that ?" " Why, look at that cat there on the lawn, sitting upon a little square piece of carpet that ?he seems quite to think her own. They would not be indulgent to that creature if they had not hearts, those people. You may lay it down as a rule. Jano, that folks who love ani- mals arc of the kind and considerate or- der, and they are pretty sure not to dis- appoint you." " I believe it, Fred ." Blake looked very sorry to leave Fred, and so he was, too ; but still he felt the truth of what Fred, said in its fullest extent, and he said not a word, although he shook hands with him and «««iQed deeply touched " Courage,'' said Fred. In another moment Fred had the spare horse by the bridle, for he meant to take it with him, in order that by its proximity to the cottage it might not lead his pursuers to think that it was there Jane had taken refuge, and off he went, The horse he rode himself was of course now better able to make speed, for it was lightened by Jane, who, althoogh no great weight, was still something extra on a horse,s back, so that he was enabled to goat a gallop. Fred's object was, the moment be got to any lane, to let the other horse go, and so get rid of it ; and he was not many minutes looking for such an opportu- nity before one presented itself to him, and he started the riderless horse off, and had the satisfaction of seeing it go at a canter right down the lane. " That is all just as it should be ; and now," said Fred, " catch who may — catch who can. I will lead you a race for it at all events." « Hilloa''* shouted a voice," hilloa!" Fred did not slacken his speed, but he turned half round in his saddle, and to his surprise he saw his pursuers a good deal nearer to him than he had ex- pected they could possibly be. It was quite clear that they had reached the high road by some near cut across the fields. " The devil !" said Fred., " here thej are." " Hilloa !" cried the voice agam. " Pull up, or we will fire at you — pull up. Hilloa !" " Fire away !" said Fred, and he urg- ed the horse on at increased speed, and with his light weight the powerful crea- ture was able to get on tremendously. Bang ! went a pistol from the men ia front, but it did no harm, and the pro- 15 FEARLESS FRED. bability is, that tbey only intended to frighten him by it, so as to induce him to stop. They did not know exactly, though, the sort of person they had to deal with. Fred was not of that order of beings tbat are easily frightened. " Hold hard !" cried the voice again. " On — on !'' was all Fred said and on indeed he went at a rattling pace ; but DOW a new danger came within sight. He saw one of those nuisances in the shape of toll-bars across the road. The man who presided at it evidently guessed that there was something amiss on the road, for he rushed out of his little cot- tage and shut the gate. •' I'll remember you for that another time," thought Fred. A half minuto more and Fred reach- ed the gate, and over went the horse as if it had had wings. " Murder !" said the man. '' Stop him I It's three-pence." " I'll call and pay you," said Fred. Off he was again, but the gate was an obstacle to the pursuers, who were not BO well mounted, or not so reckless as to what leaps they took, for they all stop- ped till the man opened the gate again, and his fright made him bungle so over doing it, that he delayed them nearly a minute. '• You idiot !" cried one of the officers, " if you had let the gate be we should have had him by now." " But my three-pence, gentlemen — you know it's threepence. Lock at the board with the list of tolls, if you please." " Go to the devil !" " Why, this is what you call a general bilk," said the tollman. " I have been forced to let one fellow over the gate, and eight men through it, and 1 haven't got a penny piece from any of them. Ob, what a bilk !" Fred had got considerably the start •f his pursuers now, and really began to think that there was a prospect of hi« escaping, when by the manner in whicb • the horse began to go, he made the very uncomfortable discovery that he had turned lame. This was a circumstance that would have made any one else give up all hopes almost, but it had not that effect upon Fred, who was very far from belonging to the despairing class of hu- man beings. On the contrary, anything that hap- pened to him of a very cross and per- verse character, only had the effect oi stimulating his intentions. " What is to be done ?'' ho said. " Why, I must forsake the hor6e, I sup pose. He must have hit his heel ogainst the top of that infernal toll-gate, and go is lame through it. I have promised to call again and pay that man, and won*t I, that's all !" To keep the high road now, and to lose ground every minute, was not exact- ly the wisest thing he could do, so he made up his mind to turn from it at the first opportunity that he possibly could; and seeing a lane to his right, he made a dash round the corner of it, and down went the horse on his knees. There could be no doubt but thai the creature had kept up as long as he possi- bly could. Fred was thrown over its head very comfortably on the margin of a dung- heap, but he did not get hurt in the least, and was upon his feet in a minute. Fred ran dewn the lane a little way, until through the hedge he saw a pretty garden, in which, close to the hedge, there was a quantity of scarlet beans growing with great luxuriance. He heard the clatter of the horse's feet of his pursuers. There was no time to choose what he should do, so he con- trived to push his way through a gap in the hedge into the garden. The little garden adjoined a cottaga (6 FEARLESS FRED. that he could just see through the boughs of the fruit trees and over the tops of the beans and peas with which it was well stacked. Fred threw himself flat to the ground between two rows of peas, and then he heard the horsemen gallop past. " Saved !" he said, as he got op. Just as he spoke he heard the voice of a young girl in conversation with some one, and he crouched down again. " I don't believe that he loves me," said the girl. " If he did, he could not behave as he does ; and, at all events, as I don't love him, it makes no diflference, and I will not see him." " Uut, Mary," said another voice, which seemed that of an elderly woman, " I tell you that he is a very nice young man, and that his uncle is rich, and that yoa will ride in your own coach." " I don't like coaches," said the girl. " Money !'' said the girl, when she was alone. " My aunt thinks of nothing but money, and the possession of that makes a lady, she thinks. ' "She is quite wrong," said Fred, look- ing up. " Don't be alarmed, Mary. I would not harm you for the world." " Oh, who are you ?" said the girl, suppressing her tendency to scream for aid. " A hunted hare," said Fred. " Don't you hear the hounds ?" CHAPTER V. PRED MAKES AN APPEARANCE IN NEW- GATE. It must have been the cheerful and kind tone in which Fearless Fred spoke, that assured the young girl that there was no danger to be apprehended from him; but she was rather puzzled at the odd manner inwhich he thought proper to let her know that he was pursued. The girl was not above sixteen years i of age, and she was very b,eantiful. Fred I thought he bad never seen such eyes, I that had in them such a world of ten- derness ; but there was a delicacy of complexion, which, seemed to speak of fading health. " Oh, tell me," she said, " who and what you are V '' I am » Fred stopped short, for, to tell the truth, he did not know very well what to call himself to that young girl. " Why do you not tell me who you are ?" she said. 'Because I hardly know, and that a the real truth," said Fred in his plea- sant and ingenous way, that always had such a charm about it. " But how can that be V ' said the girl " Easily. Nevertheless, will it not suffice if I tell you that there are no lese than eight men on eight tailed horses in tent upon my capture or my destruction They will shoot me if they see me, and think they cannot capture me." "Is that possible?" " It is, indeed. Perhaps I deserve it. but yet I do not think so, for, after all. I feel as though I had been hurried on, by circumstances that I could no* control, to do things the laws condemns I think you will save me if you can." "Oh yes." " Ah ! I knew you would." ** I hope you are not very wicked ?'' " Well, I don't think I am ; but I ana not very good, you may be sure." "Come this way." It was, indeed, time for Fred to go some way or other, for the horsemen had found Fred's horse, and not finding him, two of them had gone on for the full length of the lane, while the other six came back to see if he were hiding any- where close at hand. The beautiful young girl trembled very much as she ran along a little pathway, FEARLESS FRED. IT the sides of whioh were adorned with primroses, and then opening a rough-look- ing door at the end of it, she said — " Go in there. It is where we keep the apples and other fruits that we want to preserve." "Oh, but ihey will find me here." " Not if jou are careful, There is another door at the back of this little building, and if you hear them in the front here, you can leave it that way, and then come back again." *• I understand. And now, how can I thank you ?'* " Not at all. I am afraid " •* Of what ?'• "That I am dcring wrong." " No., A kind action can never be wrong, Mary. You see, I know your dear, nice name, but if I didn't, I should never forget you, and I don't know why people are made with such pretty faces as yours, < xcept.to turn the whits of the rest or the world. Oh — " Mary closed the door upon Fred, cut- short his compliments ; so that he was left to himself, and in comparative dark- ness, for although through a few crevices there did come little pencils of light, they were not sufficient to illuminate the place beyond the extent of a dubious kind of light. " What a smell of apples there is here !" said Fred, as he stretched out his hand, and secured a fine one, which he began eating. Fred had not got past the age when he oould relish an apple with all the gusto of youth. "Capital!" said Fred. **I feel my- self very much refreshed ; and if it were not that the image of Jane is at my heart, I should take it into my head that this Mary was tlie prettiest and gentlest crea- ture in all the world ; but, at all events, ihe b the next best, bless her!" Fred thought, then, that it would be just as well to examine the mode of exit at the back of the apple house, and h« found that it was a small door on the., latch, which opened close to the margin* of a little pond, upon which a couple of ducks were swimming. " That will do,'' he said. Any reflections or suppositions of Fred's were now put an end to by the actualities around him. It appeared that the officers had become so impressed with the belief that he must be hiding some- where in the lane, or immediately con- tigous to it, that they dismounted, and leaving their horses in the care of one of their number, they began hunting about the bushes at a great rate. During their search they soon oame upon the garden, and the idea struck them at once, from the rather dilapida- ted nature of the hedge, that he might have made his way through it " Here's a gap," cried one. " It's too small," said another. * " Oh, I don't know ; he is as thin as an eel; and, besides, the hedge can easi- ly be pushed together a little on the in- side, and he is cunning enough for that, I take it." " No doubt about his cunning." "Very well, then. You all of you keep a watch on this hedge, while we two go into the garden by the house way." " Very good." Thus was it, then, that two of th« officers went to the front entrance to the cottage, and in the king's name demand- ed admittance. Mary's aunt was dread- fully alarmed ; but she let the officers into the cottage, and thence into the gar- den at once. " Oh, gentlemen,** she said, *'wh« iak you want?" " A bighwaymaB." )8 FEARLESS FRED " Dear me ! but tbere'a wo highway- man here, I assure yon. I am not a highwayman, nor is my niece, Mary." "We don't say you are, ma'am; but your garden has not a very good hedge, &nd we suspect that the person we are after is concealed in it." " In the hedge ? Gracious 1" *' No, in the garden." Mary stood upon the little grass-plot in front of the cottage window and look- ed the picture of fright. Her face had turned quite white, and she trembled very much. "You need'nt be afraid, my dear," said one of the officers. " We don't mean no harm to you." " No — no, I am not afraid." ^That's right. But you look as if you had seen a ghost. Xx^ij, li^d better go iu-doors." , ••. " Why ?" "Because, you see, if we find the young spark we are after, there may be a little bit of a disturbance, for he is one that will crow and fight to the last, I know." . "But how cruel r .);'c«»;Whatis cruel?" " Of you all, great big men as you are, to be pursuing such a mere lad.'' *' Ah 1 yo* have seen him. Do you hear that, Jarvis ? This girl says he is only a mere lad " " Does she so 1 That is capital 1 Now, my dear, all you have to do is just to say «|uietly where he is, and all will be right. By George, I thought he was here." Poor Mary was ready to sink through the garden with remorse and terror at what she had said, for she now saw in a moment after the words had passed her 'ips what a testimony they had to strength- en their suspicions that Fred was hidden in the garden. u,> / ; "Oh, no— no,*' she cried, m she clasp- ed her hands. " I know nothing, indeefl, I know notljing. I did not say I knew anything, did I ?" " You did, though." " Do not say that. Oh, aunt, what did I say ?" "Come on," cried the officer, as he drew a pistol from bis pocket. *' Come on — we shall unearth the fox, 1 rather think, pretty soon now. This way. Shoot him, so as to disable him if he should resist at all." " All's right." Poor Mary uttered a cry of despair, and sank upon her knees on the grass- plot. She had really wished to save Fred. There was a something in his looks which seemed so pitiable, and with- al so frank and noble, that she could not believe he had done anything so very bad ; but now she found that by her own indiscretion and want of tact she had destroyed him. And yet what could she do now? Nothing but pray for h,im, and that she did most fervently. Fred knew nothing of all this, as he was at a distant part of the garden ; but if he had, he would have felt no indig- nation at that innocent girl, from whose very innocence and anxiety to do him good had arisen the words that were so much against him. Poor, poor Mary — and poor Fred, too, for the matter of that, we may say, as he with all his faults, is to be pitiied. The officers had a sort of tact in search- ing the garden, although they would have searched a house better, as that was a thing they were more used to of the two ; but still they did their work I well, and they soon came to the little apple house. Fred heard them. ^'^•■, " Now for it," he said. I suppose my fate hangs upon the next five minutes.** FEARLESS FRED 19 " Htre'i a door," said one ©f the offi- iers. " Fire through it, then, if jou can't open it," said the other. "Oh, it's all right; it's only on the latch." " What are you waiting for then, el ?" •' Nothing — nothing, I only — that is, nothing.'' The fftct was, that the officer knew his danger, and that if Fred happened to be on the other side of that door, that in all true likelihood the salute that he would get from him would bo a couple of bullets in his head. That idea was none of the most agreeable, and we do not at all wonder at the officer hesitating a little. . It was with a feeling of great relief that he called out when ho opened the door — " All's right." « Not there ?.' " No !' said the other one ; "he is not there." " What door is that at the back ?" "Let's open it." " Duece take your curiosity," thought Fred, and he tried to get very cautiously round the angle of the apple house, but tia foot slipped and he half fell. " Hilioa !'' cried one of the officers, " I hear a noise." " Take that, then," said Fred, as he fired a pistol at the head that popped out at the little door. From the moment that Fred found that his presence in the garden was dis- covered, he felt that there was no possi- ble chance for escape, and the shot he had fired was rather from impulse than from any reflection at all "Has ho hit you, Ben?" cried the •ther officer. *• I don't know.'' " That will do Fearless Fred you are our prisoner. We i.re two to one here, and there are four more of us in the lane." "I know it," said Fred. " Answei me one question." "What is it?" " Are you Peter Baylcy's men ?" " We arc not. We come from Bow street. My name is Jarvis. We have nothing to do with Peter Bayley." "Upon what charge do you arrest me, then?" " Highway robbery. You took a purse and a ring from a gentleman ne.ir Hen- don. Now don't be a fool, J ved ; we don't mean to take your liTo^ but we must do our duty." " All's right," said Fred. '■ Uyou had been Peter Bayley's men. I -(rould have fought with you to the lu/. gasp ; but as it is, I give myself up to you, feeling that it would be just Auicide to resist you." " You have done a sensible thing, Fred." " I hope 80." Fred walked very leisurely through the apple house, and confronted the two officers, to whom he handed hiu pistols. " You ain't hurt ?" he said to the one he had fired at. " No." " I am glad of that. Il was a foolish and stray shot ; but wheu one has a pis- tol in hand, and is taken by surprise, you know it is apt to /jo ofif." " Just so. It's all in the way of busi- ness ; only I wish Urj hat and wig haa not gone into the duck-pond." » So do I," said Fred. At this moment Mary appeared, and clasping her hands, she cried — « Oh, he is taken ! They will kill him ! He is taken !" " Never mind," said Fred. « It's all right '' ?0 FEARLESS FRED. " But you are hurt. T heard fire- artna" "No. Thank the fates no one is hurt; i 80 there is no micbief done ; and as for ; i me, don't think ever again that you saw j me. Forget me, Mary. Our acquaint- 1 ance began tb.is hour, and this hour let it end." " I am very, very sorry for you." " That I know ; and it's some consola- tion to feel that there is one kind heart that is sorry for me." " I did all I conld to save you." " Hush !" "Oh you did, did you?" said one of the officers. " Come on, now," said the other offi- cer. " Good-bye,'' said Fred, to Mary, and he held out his hand to her. She sprang towards him, and placed her little soft band in his. " Can you forgive me ?" she said. " Forgive you ? How ought I to thank you ! Hush ! The officers are not at hand now. Let me whisper to you. Have you a friend who will do a kind thing." " Oh, yes, my cousin Phillip," " The very t!iing. I " " Now. Fred ; come on.'' '•' Let hira go to Tottenham Cross to- night at twelve, and tell those whom he will Bfte there what has happened to Fearless Fred. Do you comprehend ine?" « I do." The officer laid his hand upon Fred's arm. " Come," he said, " I think you have aaid quite enough to the young lady now, Fred, and the sooner you come with me the better, f suppose you and ghe are old acquaintances ?" " Not at all. I never saw her before to;ht that he would be able to diatance his pursuers and come back to them in an hour or so. Jane pretended to be very much in- disposed, in order to have an excuse to stay, and the servant could not very well turn her out, although it was evident she would have been very glad to do so ; but when two hours had passed away, and no Fred came, Blake began to look rather grave, and to think in his own mind that something must have happen- ed to Fred. "Alas!" said Jane, in an under tone, for she had been watching the counte- nance of Blake, " alas ! you dread the worst ?" " No no ! All will bo well." " And yet your looks tell a different tale. You think that Fred is laken, or that he is dead, I know you do." " Hush ! do not speak so loud, I beg of you. We do not know who may be listening. Recollect that he told us to meet him at Tottenham Cross at mid- night." " Yes yes !" " Well, from that I gather the hope that he will be surely there, and that he may not think it prudent to come back upon this road, even though he may es- cape those who are puisuiiig him. He is much more likely to take to the many green lanes that lie to the west of Tot- tenham, and there hide until the night comes." " Is that your real thought ?" " It is, indeed, Miss Jane." •^Then I will not despair while you, who ought to know these things »v muob u FEARLESS FRED. belter than I can, think there is room for hope." It was very evident, indeed, that if they sought ife stay where they were un- tM the night came, they would out-sta)- their wclcurae ; so, after a liitle more consultation, they decided 'upon giving up all idea of the return of Fred to the cottage, and to live upon the hope of meeting him at Tottenh■^m Cross, to the immediate neighborhood of which they determined to repair. With this resolve they left the cottage, after as coldly thanking the woman as she had been cold to them. Tottenham was by no means far distant from that spot. They had but to proceed d(jwn a green lane to find themselves in the High Street of that long, straggling suburb of the mctropulis ; and when there, they sought for the quietest looking inn, where tbey put up. Now, all this time Jane had possession of the cedar box, and knowing the great store that Fred set by it, she took the greatest care of it that could be. We will not go so far as to say that she had no curiosity regarding its contents, for Jane was human ; and yet she did not think herself justified in opening the b^x without the presence of Frtd A kind of superstitious terror, too, clung to her as she look( d at it, and she seemed tv dread that its contents would be produc- tite to her of more pain than pleasure. *' No, no," she gaid, " I will wait until midnight, and then I shall see Fred, and he will open the box." To this determination Blake offered no objection. The behavior of this man now was Su different to what one could at all hare expected from one of Peter Bayiey's safcillites that it might well strike any one whh astonishment, but the fact was, that the nature of Blake was good, and now th»t he found himself in the presence of goodnes.s, and gentleness, and beauty, it altered all his feelings. He, though, had his doubts about see- ing Fred at Tottenham Cross at mid night. And now, after long and weary wait- ing, the hour had nearly come when Jan« and her friends might sally forth to keep that appointment with P>ed, which, alas i he was so compLtely prevented from keeping with her. Little did she suspect that the gloomy walls of Newgate enclos- ed him at that time. The night wind had ri.scn in its strength, and, accompanied ny l)ia.stering echoes, was dashing about the tops of the tall trees. Now and then, too, a dash of rain came through the air ; and afar off there was that continual moaning sound in the 'air, which in this country is so «ure an indication of the cominuance of rough weather. Jane shrunk as she faced the cold night air, but Blake eacouragt-d her to proceed, and shielded her us well as he could from the inclemency of the weath er. He had all the hope in the worh that Fred miuht be there, but he was quite prepared for a disappointment. Tdtienbam Cross stood at that timeiu a much more secluded position than it does now, now that it is surrounded by houses, so that our friends could approach the spot without attracting mucli, if any observation, probably, at that still and solemn hour — a still and solemn hour in the sweet country, although in Loudon at that time all the jarring elonrents of drunkenness aud crime are let h:08e up- on the face of society. " He will surely be here," whisperea Jane. "Surely if he can," said Blake. •' ]>ut you do not doubt?" " How can I doubt of a thing concern' ing which lean know nothing at allf ^ FEARLESS FRED. 2d lie said we were to meet him here ; and setting aside the reveraes, accidents, and circumstances that prevent people in this world t'ruin doing what they most wish to du, ns-uredly he will be there." ** Oh, yes - yes." The t(»ue in which Blake had spoken was quite sufficient to convince Jane that he had Some doubts upon the subject, and she felt her heart sink within her as they all neared the cross, and no one came forwird from it, as she knew that Fred w uld have come to meet them. A dozen more steps and they stood by the cross. All was still. Jane felt as though siie could have fainted upon the spot • Oh, Fred, Fred !" she said, " where are you now ? Fred, you are not here, and my mind sickens at the thought of what may be the cause of your absence '' " Did you say Fred ?" said a voice, and at thu same momenta figure emerg- ed from behind the cross. "Oh, speak to me — speak to me!" aried Jane. '• Do you come from him ?" " "From whol" •' Lot me see you that I may be sure ^ou are not au enemy. Let me look up- on your face. The lantern, Blake, the Jauteru.'' Blake had a small hand-lantern with him, wliich up to this time he had kept iilirouded ; but now he let a gleam of light escape from it, and it fell upon the ingenuous and pleasant looking face of a boy about sixteen years of age. •' My name is Philip," he said. '• But who are you? How came you here V Do you come from Fred ?" '• No,'' said the boy, " it was my cousin Mary who told me to come here, and I always do what she tells me. She said I .should meet some people here, to whom T wa.s to say, that Fearless Fred was a priioner.'* " Oh, God !" said Jane, au 1 she would have fallea, but that Blake supported her. She had dreaded and fully expect- ed such intelligence as the lad brought to her ; but still the realization of it vmsi beyond her power to sustain with any- thing like firmness and composure. '• They have killed him ! ' she said. " Oh, they have killed him I" " No, miss," said the boy, " there yoa arc wrong. You may depend that such is not the case, or my cousin Mary would have told me as much. He is only ta- ken prisoner by somebody." " We thank you for being so kind as to bring us this information," said Blake. '•Take back our kiud acknowledgments to your cousin Mary, for taking so much trouble.'' Poor Jane would fain have thanked Philip likewise, but she was in such a state of mental prostration, that she found it impossible to do so. 'Don't fancy," said Philip, " that I deserve any thanks. The fact is, I love my cousin Mary so well, that I always do whatever she tells me, and she says that Fred hid in their garden, and that she did all she could to save him, but could not." '• Blessings be upon her !" sobbed Jane. " And so when he was taken," addsd Ph'lip, " he asked her to send some one to this place at twelve o'clock with the news." There was no more to be heard froMj Philip, and Blake bade him adieu, and turning to Jane, he said — " It will be necessary now that you get to some place, as soon as possible, where you will be secure from Peter Bayley. I know an old couple who !»e taking care of a great farm-house that is to be let, at Wood Green, a little place close to Tottenham. There I can aS" sure you of a welcome." 26 FEARLESS FRED. " Anywhere," said Jane, with a fresh fcorst of grief, " anywhere you please." Blake led her to the place he had mentioned, where they knocked up the old couple, and where, from the kindness of the reception they got on Blake's ac- count, it was quite evident that he had baen of great service to them. Blake told some portion of Jane's story to thf old people, and then they oflFered to otiduct her to her chamber, but she sobbed convulsively. "All this will kill me," said Jane. "Do not, I beg of you, try to prevent raein any way from going to Fred. Sure- ly they ciunot be so barbarous as to wish to prevent any one from seeing him ? Even the oflBcers of the law cannot wish to Leap more misery upon his head than he mufei suffer from the fact of his im- prisonment ?" *• You must not speak so, Miss Jane.'' • " And why must I not?" '• For several reasons. In the first place, if you attempt to go to Newgate to see Fearless Fred, you may certainly bring yourself into danger, but you can do him no good. You should recollect that the chief anxiety that he will suffer will be upon your account." « That is true." " And, therefore, I who know how to communicate with him, even though he were in the most gloomy cell of Newgate ought to be in a position to assure him with truth that all is well with you " " Yes — yes. That is all true, like- wise." " Then you must abandon your idea of going to Newgate." " I will," said Jane, as she sobbed con- volsively. "I will." Leaving, then, Jane and the other young girl to the care of Blake, we now return to Fearless Fred, who, it will be recollected, had just been taken into th«» lobby of Newgate by the officer*. CHAPTER VII. RETURNS TO »RED IN NEWGATE We cannot pretend to say that even Fearless Fred, with all the natural oou rage of his disposition, felt nothing upon finding himself in that gloomy and ter- rible prison of Newgate. For the first time in his life a presentiment of evil for- tune came over him. The darkness uf the lobby of the pris on was too dark for the turnkeys even, who were used to it, to notice anything very. particular, so they did not see the change of color that came over the face of Fearless Fred. He, Fred, felt quite grateful to tho darkness that prevented them from ob- serving and commenting upon such a sign of weakness in him. " The governor will be glad to see this new bird, who is going to make one in the old cage," said one of the officials of the prisoner. ' We won't give him up without the governor's receipt for him, I can tell yon," said one of the officers who had brought Fred from the police office in Bow street. •' Oh, you will have your receipt, never fear We do business, you see, in a bu- siness-like-way. and so " " Hush !" said another. " Here is the governor coming, and one of the sheriflPs with him. Stand back will you?" The governor of Newgate was an old retired military officer, whose poverty more than his will had consented that the not very enviatle post should be ta- ken. He was a tolerable disciplinarian, though, and the only serious fault that H'EARLESS FRED. he had, was a certa^.n irritability of tem- per, wbicli would peep out at times ia a very undignified fashion. The sheriff who accompanied him was a Scotch tailor, who. by dint of hard ly- ing and spurious puffing, liad made mo- ney, and so qualified himself for any civic •ffice ; and he was beginning a career w'hicl), he flattered himself would end iu the Lord Mayor's chair, by serving his first year of sheriffdom, if we may be allowed the expressien with reference to that office. " Noo, Mr. Governor," said the sher- iff, "you will see, mon, the propriety of recommending to the authorities, which [ cannot very well do mysel, that the turnkeys and such like should have the new great coats made by our house ; and as you see, mon, it would no look weel for me to tak the order, why, my brother can do it for me, all being to- gether, you understand, mon." " 1 hope to Heaven you will, some day," said the governor. •' Eh, mon ? What is that you say ?" " I said. I hoped you would." " Oh, weel, 1 dare say it is some com- pliment to the way in which we do busi- aess, mon." " Very well. sir. If you like to take it as a compliment, you tiiay ; but I beg to tell you, Mr. Tailor Siieriff, that 1 won't lend myself to your advertising tricks." " Tricks, moa — tricks ? Did you say tricks ?" " Yes, I did, so make the most of it. Now, Davis, do you want me for any- thing V '■' Yes, sir, if you please. Here is a special remand warrant from Sir John Ross." " Oh, very well. I dare say Sir John [loss would not send any one here on a special remand, without good reason. Who is it, I wonder? Ililloa ! Fearitss Fred ! I.s that the young fellow that Peter Bayley is so savage about ?" " Not a doubt of it," cried Fred •'Peter. I think, would give one of hi» villanous ears to catch me ; but I hopft that I am in the hands of the proper authorities, and not of such a scoundrel.* " You are in Newgate, my fine fellow,* said the governor. " The governor of Newgate,"' said Fred, " is an oSicer and a gcntlenian, and he will do his duty. All I ask of him is to keep me out of the clutches of Peter Bayley. " Peter Bayley has no more power here," said the governor," than the man who sweeps the crossing at the corner of the Old Bailey " " I am glad to bear it, sir. He pre- tends that he has power everywhere, and that he is superior to every one who is in any way connected with the ad- ministration of the law." " Let him come hear and' try it," said the governor, drily. "Fearless Fred, did you say'?" cried the sheriff. " Did you say Fearless Fred was the youth's name, Mr. Governor'?'' " Yes, I did, Mr. Sheriff" The sheriff walked up to Fred, and looked at him from head to foot. '• And so you are the Fear'.ess Fred that we have heard so much about late- ly ■? You are the gallant who has stop- ped me on the highway, are you *? Wh« would have thought it !" " There's your receipt, Mr. Davis," said the governor. " Sir John Ross may depend upon the safe keeping of this prisoner. Take him away !' " Stop a bit,'' said the sheriff, — "stop. I just want to flay something to the young man." " This is very irregular," said the go vernor. "You should recollect, Mr 98 FEARLESS FRED. Tailor Sheriff, that this is a prisoner, and that Lc ought sot to be eouferred with by any one." " Tut— tut. man ! ain't I the sheriff? I won't detaio him manj minutes. Now, listen to me, joung man." *" Go on," said Fred. " What is it *" " You will be hanged." ** Wfli, so ma J you.'* '' God guide ua, no ! But nerer mind. I will excuse the expression. But 1 bare a great favor to ask of jou, and that is, that when you are hanged you will wear a coat that I will send you, and before you are turned off you will have the goodness to advance to the front of the scaffold, and say, " Good people, this coat was made by Messrs Tickeli and Co., and it is the most comfortable coat a man can be hung in, and only one pound ten, cash price. Messrs Tickeli and Co., merchant tailors. Many use the word snip, but they are the only true snips in Loudon.'' Fred looked at the sheriff, as he utter- ed with great volubility this harangue, which was a repetition of one of the gtieriff's advertisements, and he thought fturcly the sheriff must be mad. Fi-td litde knew what the spirit of trading competition will induce people I'i iio in London. " Come — corae," said the governor, • enough of this." " Nay, but let me hear what he has to say to it," cried the sheriff; "surely if the young man can do mc a favor and himself no harm, he will not refuse it. What do you say, Mr. Fred ?" " I say, that if anybody had told mc wbat a heartless and brutal fool you were, I would not have believed it," said Fred ; '' and it only proves what a very wttall amount of intellect is required in trade iu Loudoo. Don't trouble mc idiot!" * Idiot ! lie oalls mo aa idiot !^ " He is very wrong," said the gOTer» nor. " Oh, yes, very wrong." " Yes," added the governor, in a whi* per, " you are more rogue than fool. I would not pay you the compliment ol calling you an idiot, for that would be to let you off some share of your awful sal' fishneas.'' " What do you say, governor?'' " Oh, nothing. I only said that, as a general thing, the world is rather selfish. " That's uncommonly true," said the sheriff, with a sigh, " and it is wofuUy shown in the lad who won't do me a .service though it will do him no harm Well— Well! Good-day, Mr Governor. I am going to see if I can't take off six- pence a week off tlie wages of the poor woman who n^ake the waistcoats. They earn two shillings and eightpeuce al- ready, and that's dreadful, for I hear that Abraham and Son only pay two-and-four- pence ; so that I am getting swindled out of fourpence a week. Oh, gracious! it's awful to think of !'' " Confound that fellow t" muttered the governor when the sheriff was gone. "It is a disgrace to the City of Londoa to pick up such men, and thrust them into office. Now, Fearless Fred, let lae say a word to you." " As many as you like, sir.** " As long as you are civil here, aad make no attempt to give us the slip, re- collect, that all the kiudncss that I eaa show you consistently with my duty, and all the indulgences that I can give you I will ; but if you attempt any of your tfticks. you had better be a cat in a certain place without claws." " I hear you. sir." "Anddo'you understand mtV* « I think I do." " Very good ; that is all I have to say FEARLESS FRED. tft •o yon. Put bira in No. 40, Mr Green, if yoa please ,' The povernnr turned upon hia bee), wid left the lobby. '• Is No 40 a very nice place, indeed ?' •aid Fearless Fred. " Well, tbere's worse in Newgate said Wie officer. '• All's right, then. I shan't grumble But stop a bit ; 1 have heard that the best thing a man can do when he gets here is to show that he thinks well of hisjail- •rs." " Well, it isn't a bad thing." " Very good. I iiave some money about me, but I want some of it for the tupport of those w ho are dependant upon me out of doors, as well as for the pro- bable expenses of my own defence. If I halve with jou what I have, will that content you V ^ Quite, Fearless Fred. When a gen- tleman shows us that he is a gentleman, and wishes to act like one. we are never very particular what we do for him." '• Tliere's the money, then,'' said Fred ; '• and all I can say is, that I wish it were ten times the amount, for all our sakes.'' '• All's right. You are a straight-for- ward sort of cliap, and you won't lose » nothing by treating us in this sort of way, I can toll you." "^ That he won't," said the others. Fred had heard quite sufficient of the \8ode in which aff.iirs were conducted in Newgate to be well aware that, with the turnkeys and general officers of that prison, money was everything. All that is quite reformed now; but in Fearless Fred's time, if a prisoner was sent to Kewgate and had plenty of money with btm, so that he could fee the officers well in the shape of garnish, as they call- ed it, he might do almost what he liked, with the exception of actually walking »ut of the gate into tliM street. T>JO ocll marked iO in vriuch Fearless Fred was now in the course of a few minutes placed, was by no means one of the worst in the building It was toler^ ably light, and was larger than the gen- erality of cells. It was not an agreeable thing, though, for Fred to find that the governor thought proper to have a setol fetters placed upon him, for his better security. "There's surely no need of these?" said Fred. '• It's the governor's orders." Those words were qui^e conclusive, and Fred felt how utterly useless it would be for him to raise any further objection to the fetters ; so. upon the principle which he had laid down for liimself, of submitting with a good gjuce to everything that was unavoidable, he said not another word about the fetters. One of the officers made a remark to the smith who was rivettijig them on, and while the smith turned his head to reply, Fred took a file and a pair of pincers out of the basket of tools. Luckily for Fred, no one noticed this rather daring act, or it would, no doubt, have been considered to be the com- mencement of hostilities between him and the authorites of the prison. " Now, young fellow," said the smithy when he had finished his work, " get out of that if you can." " Thank you," said Fred. " Oh, ho don't want to get out." said an officer. " He is all right enough, and from what I can hear, I don't know that it will go very hard with him on his trial, either"' " Peter Bayley ia my enemy," said Fie.l. The officer whistled. " Oh, well, if that's the case, he has made up his mind about yon, one way or the other. He will bring you through the affair altogether as neat as possible or ho will hang you." 30 FEARLESS FRED. « Or he will neither," saiJ Fred. " Well, you knovy your own business best, young gentleman I wish you luck that's all. I rather like you than not Poor Fred had managed to keep up hi.'; spirits pretty well while he was in tlie presence of the officers, but when he was quite alone, he found himself quite over whelmed at the idea that at last he was an inhabitant of that gloomy prison, which always had risen up before his imagiua tion full of sadness and terror. He be- c&u to compare his present condition with that time when his father lived, and whatever might have but been the evils and discomforts of his position, in con sequence of Mrs. Martindale, he was, at least, innocent of crime. From these reflections, then, Fred passed on to a dearer one — of his first meeting Jane, and the singular maniier in which she had been thrown upon his precarious protection ; and then he asked himself what would become of her if he ghould be cast for death, and not bo able to escape the doom which the law then with a much greater amount of reckless- ness then now, dealt out even to those who had committed only crimes against property. Other offences, though, could easily be brought to bear against poor Fred, for when he had been attacked, we know that he had not been over-scrupulous in. the way in which he defended himself From these thoughts he brought his reflections right down to his present position ; and then when he began to consider his age, and how much he had gone through, he thought it was hard to die yet. He lean his head upon his hand, and gave himself up for an hour or more to those frightful reflections, and they might have lasted longer but that he heard the clank of footsteps upon the stone pavement outsidti his cell, and then rite rattle of the chains and the heavy fall of the bar that secured the door. " Hillna. Fred • ' said a voice. '• Who is that ?" said Fred. " Alls right; only a visitor, that's all. Walk in, sir ; you will find him there." Who is it?" cried Fred. The cell was quite dark, for it waa evening time now, and in that gloomy place the daylight had but to half go to produced a complete night in the atmoo* phere, so that all Fred could see waa a dark figure crossing the thresholo of the cell. That figure, though, had a lantern with him, with a slide to it that shut up or exposed the light of it at pleauxe, and now, when the door of the cell was closed, the visitor moved tlie slide of the lantern back with a sharp crack, and holding it up, let the bright beam of light all upon his face. " Peter Bayley! " said Fred. " Ha ! ha !" said Peter " I thought that I was, at least, free from you here," added Fred. •' I don't know what right you have to come trou- bling me. 1 will not speak with you" Ha ! ha !" laughed Bayley in his odd manner, again, " you won't speak to me?" " No. you infernal scoundrel, I won't except to tell you what I think of you'* " Have a care, Fearless Fred. Keep civil. Your fate is in my hands. Do not tamper with your life." " I don't believe it !" (I Well — well, we shall see. I camo here by virtue of an order from the Secretary of State, which will admit me at all times and at any time I like U your cell. You cannot shake me off, Fearless Fred. I have made a determi- nation to stick to you now while job live." Fred made him no answer. FEARLESS FRED. 31 *And now," added Peter, '-I begin to believe in the truth of the old saj'iug, that if a man is born to be hanged, you can't drown him." Fred knew that Peter alluded to the affair at the river Brent, when he, Fred, had gone off upon Bayley's horse, for Peter was by no means as yet pos- sessed of the particulars of that affair. Still Fred made liim no sort of answer. " You may speak or not," added Bay- ley. " I have come to you to say my Bay, and when I have done I will leave you to think it over. Your life, I tell you. Fearless Fred, is in my hands. It is in my power to manage to soften or to aggravate the evidence against you in the cases of highway robbery that wiil be brought forward against you, so as to insure your acquittal or your conviction. If you are convicted, nothing on earth ;an save you from the gallows.'' '•What means?" said Fred. *' Oh. you have found your tongue ? Well, Fred, I am a man who is very much misunderstood. Some folks think I bear malice." " Oh !" said Fred. "But I don't — oh, dear, no. There is a peculiarity in my disposition that enables me always to forgive those things that seem to be the most directed against me from a brave man. I say, that is one of my littl* peculiarities." '' I have heard," said Fred, " that you have a few." Fred felt quite certain that Peter Bayley had some deep design in visiting him in this way. and his curiosity was aroused to discover what it was; so he waa tempted to forego bis first resolve not to speak to him at all. " Yes," added Bayley, as Le placed the lantern upon the little wooden table that constituted, beside the truckle bed. the only article of furniture in the cell, " yes, Fearless Fred, although you bar* aimed more than ouce at my life, I can yet forgive you." " Your virtue," said Fred, " is quite wonderful." "Sneer away — sneer away, Fearless Fred ; I give you, young as you are, credit for more active good sense than many who are double your age ; and so I have a direct and clear off^r to make to you, upon your acceptance of which you may save your life." " Go on, Peter !" " There is a little cedar box ^" " Oh, are you there, Peter ! There certainly is a little cedar-box. Well, what of it 1" Bayley was rather agitated, and gen erally calm and cool and collected as ho was, he found a difficulty to repress the feelings of impatience that possessed him; but he spoke slowly, notwithstanding, although the couched tone of his voice sufficiently betrayed the inward work- ings of his spirit. " I tell you, then, Fearless Fred, that if you will place that cedar-box in my hands, I will guarantee you your life." " Oh, indeed ! It's only the box yoa want?" "^ Pshaw ! The contents of course.'' '• Well, Peter, it is a fair enough of- fer." " It is such a one as only I can make you. I have the power to save you, and not only will I do it in this instance, but I will for the future hold my pro- tecting hand over you, and the lock of a prison shall never again turn upon you, Qor a felons fetters gall your limbs.'* *'Umph!" " You doubt my power ? That is fool- ish, Fred. I tell you that it is compe- tent for all that I promise. The ad- ministration of the criminal law in thiff country '■' "^ '•'Jse, that any bold, enter 82 FEARLESS FRED. prising man could step in and exercise a power ju3t ill proportiou to Lis unscru- pulousness. You see. I don't pick my words when I am talking to you. Fred, because I wish that you should plainly understand me. I am sucli a man, and by one means and aiiothv.r I have great power either for life or for death. I oan save you, or I can destroy you Which shall it be? I pauae for your answer, Fearless Fred." "You shall have it." " The box ?" " Ob, no ! My answer I meant." " Don't play with your existence in ibis way, Fearless Fred. You are young enough to wish to live, surely ?"' " Yes, I own that I wish to live, but there are considerations superior even to the wish to live.^^ It is true — quite true that I know where to lay my hand upon that box you speak of." "You — you do — you do, Fr^d?'* " 1 do, Peter." " Then you will tell me at once, good Fred You are not so mad as quite to throw your life away for a foolish cccar- box. Oh, no — no ! Where is it ? Speak, Fred, and make me your friend for ever " " That is something !" •'It is everything to you, Fred — it is life instead of death — it is daylight in- stead of darkness — it is the world in- stead of the grave !" " Oh. yes, I know all that. Well, then, Peter, you won't let it go any further ?" " No — no, good God no !" "You won't be angry — you #won't breathe the secret to any one else even iu the strictest confidence?'' " No, I say ; a thousand times, no I" " Well, then, Peter, the box is — that is to say, the cedar-box tied up with a pieoe of red tape, found by me in Lolan- ti's house " " Go on! D n, why do you play with me in this way." "I play with you? I play with the great Peter Bayley T You might as well ask a mouse to play with a cat. I tell you. therefore, frankly and freely, Peter Bayley, that the cedar-box with the red tape around it, abx>ut eight inch- es long and about four in width, that 1 found in Lolanti's house after the death of that personage '' '• Gracious Heavens ! Yes — yes." " Well, listen : if these were the last words I had to speak iu this world, they should be as true. The box is — " '• Well r '• You are sure that turnkey ain't li« tening at the door V " D— n it— no ?" " Then, it is in a very safe place." '■■ Well ?" " Well, I say, it is in a very safe place. What would you have more?" "But where is it?"' cried Peter, in a thundering voice of rage. '• That is a little piece of information,'' said Fred, calmly, " that I mean to keep to myself: and if every hair on your head, Peter, was a diamond, and you were to shave them all off and offer them to me, I would not tell you!" Bayley raised his hand to strike at Fred, but the latter sprang to the table, and seizing the lantern, he flung it in Peter's face, and out it went, leaving the cell in the most profound darkness "Help! Help! Lights 1 Ililioa' Turnkey I'' cried Bayley. '■• Opeu the door, will you !'' " Hoi ! what's the row, now V" said the turnkey, opening the door of the cell, and holding up his lantern. •' He tried to murder me, " said Bay ley. The turnkey grinned, as he looked k( Fred sitting very composcdlj on hiM FEARLESS FRED. sa bed, while Peter Bayl«y Lad a large pis- tol in liis hand. "Why, Mr. Bayley," said the man, " one would have thought that you might have taken care o£ yourself from such a boy as that, with fetters on his limhs, too. You nmst be j"king, Mr. Bayley." " No— no,'' said Bayley, " ray feelings were orercorae. 1 was talking to him about — about his poor mother, and offer-, ing to protGct him. He has broken her heart, poor woman. He is a most hard- «ned criminal." " Really,"' said the officer. Peter Bayley turned his frightfully ugly couiit(niance towards Fred, and in a voice almost inarticulate with rage, he Raid — " Remember me !'' " Easily," said Fred ; " you are so in- fHrnally ugly, that, once seen, it is quite imnossible for any one to forget you " The turnkey burst into a loud laugh, for, after all, they did not care much for Peter at Newgate. '' Ay," said Bayley " laugh now, I like til hear it ; but when I say that I will change the laugh of every man to groans, I generally — mind you, I say I general- ly keep my word. Good evening, Fear- less Fred— good evening, Mr. John Holmes, nnder-turnkey at Newgate. Good evening, and very pleasant dreams ti) both of you.'' The turnkey looked a little alarmed, for well he knew that when Peter Bay- ley determined to be spiteful, he would stir heaven and earth to be so ; but. af- ter all, he thought, what could Bayley do to him ? " I don't know, Mr. Bayley," he said "what harm there is in our laughing. It ain't quite the most cheerful place in flic world, this Newgate." Fred was more troubled at this visit from Peter than he chose to lot that vil- iess came over Fred that he gave in to the opin- ion, that let a man's »ituation be what it 34 • FEARLESS FRED rimy, and let his aniieticg be ©f what sort or couiplcxion tLey may, sleep he must. "I would pray for Jane," he said, as he fluDg himself upon the hard mattress. ' but I am afraid I am not inuocent enough to pray. God will protect her without any prayers from me.' For all this, though, Fred, before he closed his eyes in sleep, uttered with deep sincerity the words — " God bless her !" This was a very good prayer, and quite enough. It seemed to Fearless Fred as if he had only slept for a few minutes, before he felt himself rudely shaken by the shoulder, and a rough voice cried — '•Up — up, and be stiring, Fearless Fred. We don't lie in bed late of a morning here." Fred started to his feet. " What's the matter ?" he said. " The matter ? Oh, nothing particu- lar is the matter, only, old fellow, you will be wanted to go before the beak, you see." " Why, it's daylight !» "D.iylight? Of course it is. Did you think, because you were clapped up in the stone-jug, that the daylight was never to come again, eh? What an idea !" " No," said Fred, " I did not think that, but I slept so sound that the night has passed away like nothing at all. But I am all right now. Breakfast, if you please, for I am rather inclined that way." " Well, you can have the prison fare, and that is gruel and a bit of not the softest nor the whitest bread ; but if you like to pay, why, you can have — " " Anything I like, I suppose?" « Exactly." " Take that guinea and get me as good a breakfast as yuur eooscienee will let you. and keep the change" I " You are a trump, Fearless Fred, and no soft of a mistake. I will do you jus- tice, you may depend ; and if I don't spend half of it upon you, call me a Frenchman." Fred had, in the course of a quarter of an hour, an excellent breukfast laid before him, which was got from a neigh- boring tavern; and being so fortified against any suffering from hunger, Lg was pretty well prepared for the events of the day. About ten o'clock he was conveyed in a hackney-coach to Bow street, and introduced to the sitting magistrate, who soemed inclined to make short work of the affair. Fred had fully expected that Peter Bayley would make an appearance at the court, and bring forward what evi- dence he could against him. but in that he was mistaken, for Peter did not make his appearance. It was one of the gen- tlemen who had been attacked by Fred in the early part of his career, and from whom he had taken a purse of money, who appeared and distinctly swore to him. The charge was so clear, that the magistrate turned at once to Fred, and said — " Have you anything to say ? — I gap pose not !" " You seem in a great hurry," said Fred ; " surely it is not dinner-time yet?" This produced a laugh in the court, for his worship was rather notorious for knocking off the cases when the hour for his refreshment arrived, althouiih Fred did not know that ; so it was upon h'm part, quite an accidental hit. " How dare you address such an ob- servation to the bench?*' said (ho ma" gistrate. " Any one would think that you meant to intimate that wc preferred FEARLESS FRED. »S •ur dinMeri to our doty." The officeri and clerk of the court shook their heads with horror at any such sup- position. Alas ! what hypocrisy there is in this world ! " Well," said Fred, "perhaps it's only lunch that you were thinking of, so I won't detain you any longer; you can do just as you please in this matter, and I don't taktj any merit to myself for al- lowing you to do so, since I know you will do it, whether I give you leave or not. ' " You stand in a very serious situation, indeed, young man," said the magistrate, shaking his head, " and I am sorry to see that there is in your conduct a kind of levity, which shows that you are any- iWma but perfectly alive to tbo peril of your 8 tuation," " Thank you," said Fred. " You stand committed for trial upon the direst charge ; and let me tell you, that there are several others against you, rf this should by any accident fail." " Oh, don't trouble yourself You ffe too good by half. Don't you fret fourself about me, or you won't be able to eat that lunch you seem so anxious about, you know." " Take him away," said the magistrate ; '* 1 perceive that, young as this Fearless Fred is, that he is a most hardened criminal. Nothing shows a thoroughly depraved disposition so much, as a want of reverence for those in authority." Fred was reconducted to Newgate ; *nd as he went in the coach with the of- ficer, that personage said to him — " Fearless Fred, I have been offered a couple of guineas to give you a note^ but I dMi't think I ought to do it." " Oh, yes, you ought," said Fred, " for you are a good fellow, and you know Utat it will never be known to any one W'tn could irtjurf* you in consocjuencc ; and you know, too, that I will give you a couple more to give it me at once." '' Well, 1 like to do a kind action when I can ; and as far as 1 aui coocerned, Fred, I don't think you one half so baJ^ as Peter would fain make you out." " Not a quarter. But how do you know that B;iyley has bo«;n frying to make me out bud T* " Oh, he was with the magistrate for half an hour in his private room, befor« you were brouirht to the office." "Indeed! The villain! But I won't vex myse'f about him. I expected from the first every hostility that could be brought to bear against me on his ac- count ; so give me the letter you eaj you have." The officer handed a little note to Fred, who eagerly opened it, and read the following lines : " Keep good courage ; J. is quite safe, and in a plaoe of security. I will do all I dare do to aid you ; and -svhat I dare do, will be only transcended by my ar- dent wish not to leave J. utterly friend- ess. Fred understood very well that this note came from Blake, by the signature J. to it, and that by J. he meant Jane. It was a great consolation to him to feel such an assurance as the note gave him ; and, although he did not think it possi- ble that Blake could aid him in any way, yet that he would try to do so kept him from uttterly despairing of his situ- ation and prospects. Fred was in some anxiety now lest, havin'^ been duly committed for trial, ko should not be conveyed to the seme cell, for there he had hidden the file and the pincers, which he regretted he had not taken with him ; but be sooon got rid of the apprehension that his place o^ confinement would be changed, for he was conducted direct to the «;»uic cell, so FEAHLESS FRED. ^ md tt ere left Wlien h« was alone, he sat down and began to think over his situa- tion and prospecte. and, to tell the truth, they were sufficiently gloomy to have struck terror into any bosom. The Old Bailey sessions would be on in a very few days, and he f»;lt pretty confident that he would be got rid of as quickly as possible. Peter Bayley would take good care that BQch was the case. " Yes," said Fred, as he rose, and pa- ced the narrow dimensions of his cell, "Yes. That villain, although, perhaps, he may not have it in his power to excr- eise any direct influence over the judges of the land, can yet do much to expedite the fate of any one against whom he has such an enmity as he has against me. Perhaps, after all, it would have been wiser to temporise with him than to defy him as I have done. Ah, Jane, I do not Hke to leave you yet." " Save her, then, and yourself," said a voice, and then Fred found that the cell door had been all but opened, and that some one was listening to the thoughts ^.at Fred gave expression to in words from his lips in what he thought the solitude of his cell. '•Who speaks?" said Fred; "surely it is the poorest privilege that a prisoner jan ask to be abiie." '• We don'i give prisoners privileges," said Peter Bayley, stepping into the cell at once, and confronting Fred. •' Oh, it is you, devil, is it ?" " Yes. it is. You can call me what you please. Fearless Fred ; I al'A'ays ac- cede to a man who has his fetters on the privilege of saying what he likes. It is to be expected that his temper should suflfer a little. If you were to sneer a little now, Fearless Fred you would feci all the better afterwards, I am certain.*' " I don't want your advice, Peter " Persecute you? Oh, dear, no. That is quite a mistake Fred. I rather love you than otherwise. You are a man af- ter ray own heart ; and now that you ar« committed for trial, I am hera, you see, still to offer you hope." "Well?" '• That cedar-box, Fred." Fred turned fall upon Peter, and look cd him full in the face. '• I am glad you are come, Bayley," hfi said, " for I had something to say to you that I did not say last night when I sav you. Now, listen to me: The cedar box, and the papers tliat were in the lit- tle pocket under the flap of your sad- dle '' " D— — n !" said Bayley. " Have you them, too ?" " Oil, yes, all safe. Bat do not lose your temper, Peter ; recollect that you have not fetters upon your limbs, al- though the time will coiue when you will have such, you may be assured. But don't put yourself in a passion. The cedar-box and the papers that were ia your saddle-pocket are in the possessioa of one who will religiously keep thezn without even looking at them." " Ah, indeed !'' " Unless he hears of my death : then he will carefully examine them and take them 10 such persons in authority aa he may think will act with vigor in thn matters that they relate to." Peter's very lips turned white. '• You are joking, Fearless Fred." he said , -'you are like a child who playa with edge tools ; you don't know your own danger.'' '■ " Very good !" "I tell you, you don't know whau (hat box centains— -eh ?" '■ Very good !" 'Villain! Have you dared to^ ^ead Bayley. ' Why do you persecute me?"' documents that eannot couoern yow »nd FEARLESS FRED 3ec Putcr Bayley with you, for I am nfraid he is a bad man." *• So am I," said Fred. ■ Well, never mind him — I will pro- uctyou against him. Let me hear your history." '*It must be very interesting," said Fred, " but you shall hear it. My f^ilh- er, then, you must know, was the hus- band of ray mother He was a human being, and had his faults and good quali- tiet like most people j and as for my mother, they used to say that when sht was young she looked youthful." " Well — well, pass over all that" " Very good. I was brought up principally upon victuals and drink, and had the measles at the interesting ags of five. On the following morning after the first appearance of that melancholy disease " " Well, pass that." ' Very good. I don't think anything worth the telling since I had the measles, till they brought me here, and accused me of highway robbery ; so now, sir, you know it all." The stranger bit his lips and looked angry ; but he passed it ofi" with a smile, and then said — " Come — come, Fred, you are a wit, I see, and will yet make a figure in the world. Believe me, my good young man, that I am very happy to make your ac l[uaintance, indeed, and that I will do verything I can for you. But now b« candid. Is there no one dependant up- on you, towards whom I and my lady could extend the hand of kindness , Why. such a good looking young fellow as you ought to be in love by this time. Is there no charming and innocent young creature, that the hand of kindness might be extended to 1 Only tell me the par- j ticulars, and my wife shall see to her at once." This speech confirmed Fred in the suspicion that had been gaining upon him from the commencement of the in- terview, namely, that the portly individ- ual was no other than the earl, who had taken so active a part, along with his un- principled lady, in the persecutions of Jane. That this rascally individual had now, at the instigation of Peter Bayley, come to him under the mask of sym-atby to try to get from him the particulars that would again enable hira to seiic up FEARLESS FRED t9 on Jane, seemed but too probable. In- dignation prompted Fred to say some thing of a passionate character, but by a strong effort be controlled the impulse 80 to do. He shook hia bead. "No — no. I am surprised, sir, tbat you sliould wish a person in my situation 10 fall in love." " I don't wish it, only I thought it was likely enough, the more especially as you are a well-looking lad enough.*' "Quite a mistake, sir. I have told you all." '• You doubt ray power to be of service to you, That is foolish and ungcneral, Fred. You will never make friends if yeu give way to such feelings of suspic- ion. To reassure you at once, I tell you that I am a nobleman." •• Well, if I did'iit think so," said Fred. " But a word in your ear, M r Nobleman ; I don't mean to tell you where Jane is, for all that." " Confusion !" ** Curses 1" cried Peter Bayley, pop- ping his ugly bead in at the door of the cell. " Ha— ha I" laughed Fred. " It is confusion and curses now, is it? WoU — weli, you see it is a failure, both of you, except so far, ray lord, that I have had a good look at you now and am not likely, to forget you again in a hurry. You, and your dear friend, Peter Bayley, may leave me now, with the conviction that even to death, I will hug ray secret to my bosom."' •' You shall die 1" said the earl. '• Perhaps I shall ; but if I do, there will li^e up yet friends for Jane, who will 6j:ht for her as I have done ; and the day will come when you. my lord, and your infamous coantess and all your ••on fed era tea, will be grovelling in the du«»" *' Strike him, Bayley ! Knock him down !" said the carl. . « Oh, no," said Bayley, "but I will hang him in ten days from now, my lord. to a certainty." " No you won't,'* said Fred. " TiideeJ, won t I ! I tell you what it it, Fred — you are a great deiil loo clever to live long, and I will wager One uf my ears that I get you hanged.'* '• Done !' said Fred. '• Ha, ha !' laughed Bayley, faintly. " That will do. Done, then ; a twist