66

"O signori," said he in a whisper; "a gentleman ran in here and the police are after him, but I refused to let them in till you came home."

"Who is he or where is he now?"

'I don't know, sir, who he is, but you'll find him somewhere upstairs."

I went upstairs at once and found the fugitive in the corridor, in a most excited state. It was a young man, not more than thirty, tall, handsome, and gentlemanly. The moment he saw me he threw himself on his knees and raised his hands imploringly; there was a piteous look in his dark, bright eyes as he exclaimed: "Save me, sir; save me! Hide me or I am ruined! The police are pursuing me; they have mistaken me for somebody else. Oh, save me!"

If they've taken you for someone else, you will doubtless be able to prove that they're mistaken."

"Yes, yes, I know, but my financial affairs-oh, my arrest would ruin me! My poor wife! My poor mother! God help me!

He told me then he had been educated at my own Alma Mater, and spoke to me in English to confirm his statement.

"Wait here a few minutes," I said, "and I will go and see what I can do for you."

So saying, I went down to the street to reconnoitre. I found two policemen still outside looking as stiff and as stolid as if they were made of timber. In a Café nearly opposite I espied the Chief of Police and some other officials apparently engaged in a discussion. There was an officer with them whom I knew, and as soon as I could catch his eye I quickly beckoned to him to come out. "Tell me, pray," said I, "what was all this row about at my door?"

He

"Well," said he, "it is simply this. The detectives are following a man they believe to be a criminal. ran up here and into some house on your side of the street. There was no door open but yours."

"Then what are they going to do?"

"They have just decided to inform the consul before making a search in your house."

When I returned to the fugitive I found him in still greater excitement than when I left him. He was so nervous he could scarcely speak, and there was a look of agony on his face as he

stood before me trembling. "Come, now," said I, cheerfully, "don't be so troubled. I'll get you out of this scrape; you cannot remain here, for the police are coming to search the house. I will have you let down from a window into the back street-the police don't know the house extends so far. I shall be waiting for you there."

"Oh, no," he cried; "I will stay here; I am safer here."

"Now, my friend," said I, taking him by the shoulder, "you must either consent or give yourself up to the police."

Without waiting for a reply, I called my servant Francesco and told him to bring me a strong rope.

We then went down to the room from which the descent was to be made. I fastened the rope firmly to a strong holdfast in the wall, and opened the window.

"Are you ready now?" said I to the fugitive.

"No, no, no; I'll stay where I am.”

I turned to Francesco, who was a strong, broad-shouldered man, and said:

"Francesco, hold this gentleman here till I go round to the back street. When I get there I will whistle; you will then give him the rope and let him down to me. If he refuses to go of his own accord, give him the rope and throw him out.

"All right, sir," said Francesco, bringing his hand to his forehead in military fashion, for he had been a soldier.

In five minutes I was in the street below and gave the signal. I soon saw the right leg of the fugitive out over the window-sill; probably Francesco had hold of the other and was forcing him over. At last he began to descend, and as the window was only in the second story, he was soon on the ground.

"Now," said I, taking his arm, "come along quickly; there is not a moment to be lost. Don't be so dreadfully timid and scared looking. Take courage, man; step out boldly and put on a bold front."

"Oh heavens, here are the police coming towards us," said he, starting as if to take to flight, but I held him firmly by the arm. "Let us walk on cheerfully," said I, forcing him along; "it is our best plan."

We were almost face to face with the police when we turned up a side street. I feared they would follow, and felt as much relieved as my friend when I heard their heavy footsteps dying

away in the distance. We soon reached the outskirts of the city. "Now, are you safe?" said I.

"I am," said he, grasping my hand warmly with both his own. "And what can I ever do for you?" he continued, with deep emotion; what can I ever do for you to show my gratitude?"

"Accept this little parting gift," said I, taking a small Rosary beads from my pocket, "and sometimes say a little prayer for me to the Queen of the Rosary. I ask no more; good-night."

Some months afterwards he called to see me, and thank me for what I had done. He said the storm had blown over and his reputation was saved.

About a year after that the police got information that a fraud was about to be committed in the city. An old swindler from a distant part of the country was to impersonate a certain wealthy old gentleman, and pretending he was dying to make his will with all the legal formalities. A room had been rented for the purpose in a well-known hotel in the city. The secret police engaged a room on the same landing and waited there for the arrival of the notary, who was to draw up the will. He arrived in due course and entered the chamber where the old villain lay in bed expecting him. The police remained quietly outside till they thought the will was fully drawn up, when they suddenly burst open the door with instruments they had brought for the purpose, and rushing in, seized the will just as it was being folded. A man who was present attempted to snatch it from them, but failed; they arrested him together with the old villain in the bed.

Next morning the newspapers gave a full account of the affair, and to my surprise I found that the name of the accomplice was the same as that of my fugitive friend. I went to the court where the case was to be tried, and sent in for one of the officials with whom I was acquainted.

"Tell me," said I, "do you know the man who is charged with snatching the will from the hands of the police?"

"I do," said he in an undertone, with a knowing smile; "that's the man you let out through the window."

On making inquiries afterwards from the prison chaplain I was consoled to hear that my fugitive friend had become truly penitent, and that the Rosary beads were continually in his hands. He had done what I asked him to do when I gave him the beads as a parting gift.

RAGS AND RICHES.

EDWIN ANgeloe.

CRYSTAL POND was swarmed with skaters. Rich and poor were there alike to enjoy the keen, bracing air, and the noisy gaiety and fun.

As Paul Broddern watched the merry throng from where he stood, near the edge of the pond, a wistful expression overspread his frank, honest face.

"How I wish I owned a pair of skates!" he murmured to himself. "The ice has never been finer than it is now. It makes a fellow feel bad not to be able to join in the sport."

Paul lived with his father and mother in a shabby little cottage near the outskirts of the village, which was called Rosedale.

Mr.

The family were extremely poor, the only income being that earned by Paul's mother, who was a music instructress. Broddern was an invalid and unfit for work of any kind.

Paul was kept at school in order that he might obtain an education, an advantage which his parents reasoned would prove invaluable to him in the future.

Paul's clothing was of the very poorest, and oftentimes he was compelled to go in tatters to school. His father's infirmity was so expensive and his mother's earnings so meagre that it was by the severest effort that he was clothed at all.

Paul was a proud and ambitious boy, and he hoped some day to enjoy a prosperous life. As he stood on the pond to-day, he wondered if the time was very far off when he could have the comforts that those around him had.

"I don't own a pair, Tom," said Paul, with a faint smile.

"Then put mine on. I'll take them off in a minute. I want to lean against that rock so that I can unstrap them without losing my balance."

Tom Woods was in the act of starting for the rock when Paul stopped him.

"No, Tom. I will not let you deprive yourself of your fun. It will satisfy me well enough to look on."

"Do put them on, Paul," urged Tom. "I can rest for a while." Paul finally agreed, and in a few moments the skates were on his feet.

Paul was an exceptionally good skater. Although he had no skates of his own now, he had owned many a pair in days long gone by when his father was well.

As he glided along over the ice he attracted the attention of more than a few by his graceful movements.

"That fellow makes himself a little too prominent," sneered Arthur Courtney, jealously, addressing some one at his side. "He should conduct himself quietly, and not attempt to show people what he can do. It doesn't do for one to make too much display when one is dressed in rags."

Arthur Courtney's apparel was of the richest, for his parents were the wealthiest in Rosedale.

Young Courtney always looked down on the poor, although he well knew that his father had been poor in his boyhood.

"I wonder where he managed to get the skates?" said Courtney to his companion. "I heard his mother tell mine yesterday that he had none. She is my music teacher," he added in a tone that showed he did not wish Paul's mother to be considered a social acquaintance of Mrs. Courtney's.

"They are Tom Woods'," said his companion. "I saw Tom lend them to him."

"Tom's people are pretty well-to-do. I don't see why he condescends to be so familiar with such as Paul Broddern," said Courtney, disdainfully.

Just then Paul glided past them. Paul caught the look of contempt that Arthur Courtney shot at him, but pretended not to see it.

Later on Courtney and Paul happened to be skating very near each other on the centre of the pond.

Suddenly Paul, by accident, struck against Courtney, causing the latter to fall heavily to the ice.

“You did that out of spite!" cried Arthur Courtney, in a voice of rage, though he was unhurt.

"

I assure you it was an accident," said Paul, much embarrassed. "I am sorry it happened, and I beg your pardon."

"You'll not get my pardon, you proud beggar. You've been showing off ever since you had those skates on, which, by the