University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.
The Burglar's Home.

Midway between Cross and Blackstone
streets, and nearly parallel to
them, is a short, narrow, disagreeable
avenue, connecting Hanover street with
Ann. It is but a minute's walk from one
end of this alley to the other, but there are
many objects within its narrow limits to attract
the notice of the most careless passenger.
To say nothing of the stores and shops
of various descriptions huddled together
there, the dwelling houses offer much food
for curiosity and study. Some of these appear
to be making sickly attempts at respectability,
but for the most part they are dirty,
miserable abodes, fit only for the very dregs
of society.

The most remarkable of the latter class
of dwelling houses, and, in fact, the most
prominent object in the whole street, is a
small, oblong block of three story wooden
buildings, quite isolated from the other structures
in the vicinity. One end of this row
fronts on the street, while entrance is gained
to the houses in the rear by threading an
open space which surrounds the entire block.
Nothing can be more uninviting than the
outward appearance of these miserable houses,
unless it be the scene that usually presents
itself within. The exterior was evidently
once painted yellow, but the clapboards
have been so worn by the winds and
rains of half a century, that their color
at present appears to be in a very unsettled
state.

At the period of the opening of our tale,
the block in question was crowded with tenants
of various descriptions. Some were
the families of sailors, others were poor laborers,
others were dissolute and vicious
occupants, who existed in a mysterious manner,
but in one respect all seemed alike,
whatever difference there might be in their
characters and pursuits. All were poor.

Let us view the interior of one of these
houses. Entering a dilapidated doorway,
and mounting a dark, dingy creaking staircase,
we find our nostrils saluted by odors,
and our ears by sounds, which, to those unaccustomed
to them, would at first be rather
disagreeable. The walls are smoky and
the wood-work worn and broken in numerous
places. Grotesque figures have been
drawn by wanton hands upon the doors, and
erased in a careless, slovenly manner. Let
us mount two flights of stairs, and enter one
of the rooms to visit its inmates.

It was night, and there was but a dim
light in the chamber. It was a narrow, miserable
apartment, with a small stove near
the centre, a low bed in one corner, and a
cupboard on the side opposite the door.—
The floor and walls stood much in need of
washing, and the old and scanty furniture in
the room showed a great lack of neatness
and order.

There was but one individual in the chamber,
and he was sitting near the stove, in
which there was a small fire. He sat leaning
over the glowing coals, gazing intently
through the black grate, and listening to the

ncessant singing of an iron kettle on the
stove, like one who is either overcome by
drowsiness, or occupied with deep thought.
But Isaac Gordon was evidently far from
sleeping, if we may judge from the lustre of
his keen black eye, as the fire shone upon it.
That eye twinkled with deep cunning, and
indicated the shrewd, daring, avaricious
character of its possessor.

Isaac Gordon was about forty years of
age, dark complexioned, well formed, and
athletic. His coarse features denoted a
predominance of the baser passions in his
nature, while they were still marked with
intelligence and firmness. His dress was of
coarse material, and somewhat worn, but after
all it seemed too good to correspond with
the surrounding objects in the room.

He had been sitting in the position in
which we have described him for near half
an hour, when with a muttered curse he arose
impatiently, and walked across the
room.

`What in h—can keep her away so long?'
he growled, looking at a heavy, old fashioned
silver watch he drew from his waistcoat
pocket. `It is now near eight o'clock, and
she said she would be back at seven. The
lying hag! She knew that Kate would be
gone to-night, and that I'd rather starve than
cook my own supper.'

Gordon was about to give way to his impatience
in divers expressions we need not
repeat, when he heard a sound of footsteps
on the stairs.

`Her at last!' he exclaimed, his quick
eye lighting up with eager curiosity. `I
wonder what luck she has had.'

The door opened and an old woman appeared
upon the threshold. She was very
tall and strong for one of her sex, and her
features were bold and irregular. She was,
perhaps, no older than the man, but her hair
was thin and gray, her brow wrinkled, and
her complexion sallow, which made her appear
at least a dozen years older than she
really was. Yet her form was erect, and
she had lost none of the strength or activity
of her younger days.

Throwing off her rude bonnet and coarse
shawl, this being advanced to the fire and
began rubbing her long bony hands over
the coals, without deigning a single answer
to the questions Gordon asked on the moment
she entered. At last, having sat down
and motioned him to a chair, she appeared
ready to speak.

`I have had some success,' she said, in a
low, guttural tone, raising her small twinkling
eyes to the face of her companion.

`Well you might!' retorted Gordon, with
a sneer; `for you have been gone an age.—
What kept you so long?'

`Your business more than mine,' replied
the old woman, sullenly.

`Well, I don't mean to find fault; only, I
want to hear how you made out. Is there
such a man living anywhere in the place?'

`There is one Henry P. Acton there—
and I have reason to believe—'

`That he is my man,' interrupted Gordon,
eagerly. `Well.'

`I have seen him,' said the woman. `His
appearance corresponds with your description
of him.'

`Then it is him!' exclaimed Gordon,
clapping his hands with delight. `Henry
P. Acton—not a very common name—Maggy,'
he cried, suddenly interrupting himself,
`this discovery is worth a thousand dollars
to us!'

`It is worth something, at least,' returned
his companion, in a significant whisper—
'For, even though you are building castles
in the air, I have a scheme which will—'

`Never mind your schemes,' interrupted
Gordon, impatently, `for I am sure of mine
—and that is enough. I tell you I am in
possession of some secret knowledge about
this Action, which will command his dollars
as long as he has any, or I am alive. But
tell me how he looks.'

`As you described him, nearly. He is
tall, of a delicate constitution, thin in flesh,

but handsome—and a little gray, though he
can't be more than five and thirty years of
age.'

`The natural color of his hair—'

`Is jet black.'

`And the scar?'

`As you said, there is a scar on the left
cheek, near the ear.'

`He is my man!' exclaimed Gordon, unable
to conceal his delight. `Oh! I tell
you, Maggy, if he is as rich as I have heard
he is, or as he once was, our fortune is
made!'

`And he is rich, or there is no such thing
as riches!' returned the old woman. `He
lives in a beautiful house, has a fine garden
and an orchard, and keeps a carriage. His
family—'

`Ah! yes—his family!'

`He has an angel for a wife, and a son—
a proud, handsome little boy, about eight
years old. There is a girl about eighteen
living with him; she is either his or his
wife's sister.'

`How did you learn all this?'

`Of one of the domestics, whom I managed
to get into conversation with. By the
way, let me tell you of the scheme I have
formed. To-morrow, one of Mr. Action's
servant girls goes away, as she is to be married
in a week; we must get Kate to fill the
vacant situation.'

`Nonsense!' sneered Gordon.

`Why so?' demanded his companion,
sharply; `I tell you we can take advantage
of the circumstance, so that whether your
plans fail or not, we will be bettered by it.
Let Kate once get into the family, and we
shall have a spy over there that'll be worth
the while. If there is money or plate in the
house, she can find it out, and without being
herself suspected, she can manage to
help you break the nut and get the meat.'

Having made this proposition in a bold,
confident manner, the old woman fixed her
keen eyes intently upon her companion, who
seemed absorbed in deep thought.

`What do you say?' she demanded, after
a pause.

Gordon raised his eyes to hers, and asked
in a cool, significant tone—

`Will Kate go?'

`If I say so, she will!' replied the old woman,
with a haughty toss of the head. She
has always obeyed me.'

`To her remorse and shame,' added a
low, reproachful voice at the door.

The two turned, and beheld the object of their remarks standing upon the threshold.

She was a girl about twenty years of age,
tall and slender, but well proportioned, and
beautiful, notwithstanding her cheek was
pale and care-worn. Her features were regular
and delicately chiseled, her hair of a
beautiful auburn, and her eyes of a soft deep
blue, large and full of expression. She was
thinly clad, and the faded plaid shawl, dirty
calico dress, and old-fashioned straw bonnet
she wore, indicated a carelessness in regard
to her appearance which ill accorded with her natural charms.

Such was Kate Munson: and before we
proceed farther with our narrative, it would be well for us to say a few words in explanation
of her present situation, and of her
relationship with the two individuals with
whom the reader has already become acquainted.

Kate's parents were dead, and she had
lived for several years with the woman we
have already introduced, who was her aunt
by marriage. Her history we shall dwell upon
on some future occasion, but suffice it to
say, at present, that it resembled that of too
many of her sex. She was once virtuous—
but being exposed to temptation, which her
aunt assisted in laying before her, she fell,
and sunk into the wretched thing we now
behold her. Her aunt had been married,
but her husband having died some years before,
and she being naturally prone to evil,
a relationship had been established between
her and Gordon, of the most intimate, though
of no very moral, nature. As the reader ha

probably divined, Gordon was one of those
individuals who look upon the world as owing
them a living, which they are determined
to have in spite of both law and justice.
He was a gambler and house-breaker; but
having been most unfortunate in pursuing
the former profession, he chiefly devoted his
time and talents to the latter. The old woman
assisted him, and Kate occasionally
lent her hand; for having fallen, and become
an associate with the vicious, she experienced
few scruples of conscience when called
upon to do as the vicious did.

These three individuals lived together in
the house in Centre street we have described,
and occupied two rooms, one of which was
the apartment where the foregoing scene
took place. The other room was Kate's, it
being quite small and uncomfortable for
more than one; while the other was of sufficient
dimensions to serve both as a bed room
for Gordon and Margaret, and a kitchen for
the three, to say nothing of other uses to
which it was occasionally put.

`I have been influenced by you and obeyed
you to my shame and sorrow,' repeated
Kate, entering the room abruptly.

She fixed her reproachful eyes upon her
aunt, who looked up to her with a sneer upon
her lips.

`What now?' asked Margaret, contemptuously.
`Has the conscientious creature
suddenly been struck with the magnitude of
her sins?'

`No more than I have always been,' replied
Kate, sullenly; `I am bad enough, you
know as well as I—and I delight in being so
—but I can't help thinking, sometimes, how
good and happy I might now be had you not
prevented me, and helped to bring about my
ruin.'

Kate spoke bitterly, and her aunt replied
not for some seconds, as if she feared to
rouse the spirit she knew the girl possessed.
It was her policy to humor her on the present
occasion, in order to prevail upon her to
act according to her wishes, for Mag had
formed almost a romantic idea of the advantages
to be gained by establishing her
as a domestic, or rather as a spy and an accomplice,
in the family of Mr. Acton. She
made the proposition in a kind way, and represented
it in its most attractive point of
view, endeavoring to make Kate believe it
was more for her interest than for her own
that she should comply.

Leaving the girl to reflect and conclude,
Mag set about preparing supper—a rude
meal which consisted of roasted potatoes,
fried pork, and baker's bread. Gordon
seemed to care little whether Kate went or
not, for he sat by the fire, his head upon his
hands, a smile of triumph on his features,
and an expression of eager avarice and deep
determination in his eye.