LITMIR.BIZ

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since.

      "Bart is watching it now," he told himself. "She can't get away. She must explain to me how that bogus money came into her possession. I believe I know! The man with the black mustache must have given it to her!"

      That the man with the sinister mustache was a villain he did not doubt, but he still doubted that the girl was anything but what she seemed—young, innocent, incapable of crime.

      The cashier spoke a low word to one of his companions, and a sudden fear came upon Frank. Was the man ordering his arrest? He could not afford to be detained and bothered at that time. How would he solve the mystery if they placed him under arrest?

      But Frank had nerve, and he would not take to his heels, knowing such an act would make it seem certain that he was guilty.

      The receiving teller spoke sharply to the cashier, seemingly urging him to some action; but the boy heard the cashier reply:

      "It will spoil the whole thing to be too hasty."

      "The boy can be made to peach on the gang," said the teller, in a guarded tone.

      "That's folly!" declared the cashier, shortly. "The boy is not connected with the gang. Think they would send him here—to a bank—if he were! Have a little sense, Burton!"

      The teller mumbled, looking sullen and rebuffed, while Frank felt relieved.

      Then the cashier once more questioned Frank, as a lawyer might question a witness. He tried, in various ways, to entrap the boy, but Frank made no blunders.

      After a time, the cashier seemed satisfied.

      "I am sorry for you," he said. "You have lost a hundred dollars, but you are fortunate to escape arrest and imprisonment."

      "I suppose I am," admitted Frank; "and I will tell you something, now; I propose to solve the mystery of this money. I am going to find that girl, I am going to find out how she came to have the bogus stuff, and I am going to bring this band of queer-makers to book, if possible."

      The receiving teller laughed scornfully.

      "A fine bluff!" he muttered.

      The cashier gave him a crushing glance.

      "You have undertaken a big job, my boy," said the latter. "I hardly think you will be able to carry it out when government detectives are bothered."

      "I'll do my best."

      "And you'll be pretty sure to get into further trouble."

      "I may, but I am lucky about getting out of trouble."

      "Yes, you are dead lucky," muttered the receiving teller.

      The cashier gave Frank some outspoken advice, and then told the boy he might go.

      Frank left the private office and walked out of the bank. There was a look of determination on his face.

      "I don't fancy being beaten out of a hundred dollars," he said to himself. "It's not the money so much; but if that girl knew—if she played me——"

      He stopped short, anger and disgust expressed on his face. His pride was touched. He did not like to think that he had been thus deceived.

      "I am going to know!" he vowed. "I am going to know the truth!"

      He walked away, his head down, thinking. He was trying to form a plan of action. Within a short time the mystery that surrounded the beautiful girl with two names had deepened. He must find a way to learn the truth; he would not be satisfied till he knew the truth.

      For some time he walked along, paying little heed to his surroundings, and then, all at once, a thought came to him:

      "I am followed!"

      He was confident of it. He did not look back, but he seemed to see the shadower on his trail. They were determined to know at the bank if he had told the truth, and a detective had been detailed to keep watch of him.

      Frank loitered along, looking into windows. He betrayed no uneasiness. At last he came to a restaurant. Into this he wandered, proceeding to a table at the farther end. Here he sat and gave his order.

      The boy had taken a seat where he could watch the front door. In a short time a small man entered quietly, walked straight to a table, sat down, without glancing round, having hung his hat close at hand, and looked over the bill of fare.

      "You are the shadower," decided Frank. "I wonder how I can give you the slip?"

      CHAPTER XXXIX.

       PURSUED.

       Table of Contents

      Fortune gave the boy the opportunity he desired.

      Along the street came two runaway horses, attached to a carriage. In front of the restaurant they crashed into another team, and there was a rush to see how much damage had been done. The attention of every one seemed diverted toward the front.

      Frank had observed an open door at the back of the room, and through this he quickly sprang, ran along a narrow passage, and burst into the kitchen.

      "Hello, here!" cried the cook, in astonishment. "What's the matter?"

      "Terrible smashup, out in front," replied the boy. "Don't know how many have been killed. It is awful!"

      "That so?" came stupidly from the bewildered man in white. "How did it—— Well, he was in a hurry!"

      But Frank had sprung out by an open door and was gone.

      The boy reached a side street, sprinted round a corner, doubled and turned at every opportunity, and settled to a swift walk.

      He soon discovered which direction he should take without having asked to be directed toward any particular point.

      "This is an unpleasant scrape," muttered the boy; "and it came about through my readiness to exchange my good money for bad. If I remain in this town I am liable to be arrested at any moment."

      He wondered what Bart would say when he was told. What could Bart think about a girl who carried two bright new counterfeit fifty-dollar bills in her purse?

      Frank began to doubt. He was forced to confess to himself that such a thing was remarkable. If the girl had had but one bad bill in her possession, it would have seemed that she had obtained it unwittingly; but two—and exactly alike——

      "Can it be possible she is, in some way, connected with a gang of counterfeiters?" Frank asked himself. "I will not believe it! Her face is too innocent."

      Then he remembered how, in the city of Chicago, he had encountered a beautiful girl who was connected with counterfeiters; but he also remembered that she was an unwilling tool, and had embraced the first opportunity to get clear of the meshes of the net into which she had fallen.

      "If Isa Isban is connected with such a gang, I am certain it is against her will."

      Then he thought how, when she had discovered that he had plenty of money, she had hastened to get him to change two fifty-dollar bills, and his faith was shaken.

      "It looks bad," he confessed.

      As he approached the place where he had left Bart on guard over the house in which the girl was believed to be, he passed a livery stable. He was hurrying on when some one ran out of the stable and clutched him by the arm.

      "Just in time!" palpitated the voice of Bart Hodge.

      "Hello!" exclaimed Frank, surprised. "Just in time for what?"

      "They're gone!"

      "Who?"

      "Vida Melburn and that man."

      "Gone where?"

      "Taken the lake road. Something has caused them to hustle out on the jump. I do not believe they are coming back here."

      "Then

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