of the old gentleman, that Jehu replied:

"Oh, bless your soul, crazy? No; no more'n you or I. He's a real nob--a
real Virginian, F. F. V., with money like the sands on the seashore!
Keep the tin, lad; he knowed what he was a-doin' on."

"Oh, it a'most scares me to have so much money!" exclaimed the boy, half
in delight, half in dismay; "but to-night I'll have a warm supper and
sleep in a bed once more! And to-morrow a new suit of clothes! So here
goes--Herald! Express!--full account--the horrible murder--Bell
Street--Ledgee-ee-ee," etc., etc., etc., crying his papers until he was
out of hearing.

Never in his life had the newsboy felt so prosperous and happy.

CHAPTER V.

THE DISCOVERY.

"And at the magistrate's command,
And next undid the leathern band
That bound her tresses there,
And raised her felt hat from her head,
And down her slender form there spread
Black ringlets rich and rare."

Old Hurricane meanwhile dined at the public table at the Astor, and
afterward went to his room to rest, smoke and ruminate. And he finished
the evening by supping and retiring to bed.

In the morning, after an early breakfast, he wrote a dozen
advertisements and called a cab and rode around to leave them with the
various daily papers for immediate publication. Then, to lose no time,
he rode up to the Recorder's office to set the police upon the search.

As he was about to enter the front portal he observed the doorway and
passage blocked up with even a larger crowd than usual.

And seeing the cabman who had waited upon him the preceding day, he
inquired of him:

"What is the matter here?"

"Nothing, your honor, 'cept a boy tuk up for wearing girl's clothes, or
a girl tuk up for wearing boy's, I dunno which," said the man, touching
his hat.

"Let me pass, then; I must speak to the chief of police," said Old
Hurricane, shoving his way into the Recorder's room.

"This is not the office of the chief, sir; you will find him on the
other side of the hall," said a bystander.

But before Old Hurricane had gathered the sense of these words, a sight
within the office drew his steps thither. Up before the Recorder stood a
lad of about thirteen years, who, despite his smart, new suit of gray
casinet, his long, rolling, black ringlets and his downcast and blushing
face, Old Hurricane immediately recognized as his acquaintance, of the
preceding day, the saucy young tatterdemalion.

Feelin