The Lights o' Gotham; or, The Gilded Villain — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

—— is all important.” ‘‘Oh, we have plenty of time,’ coolly returned the colonel; ‘‘it’s hardly past nine now, and your clerks, I believe, don’t ar- rive before ten o’clock. You need beunder no apprehension before that hour.”’ There was something in these words, as well as in the glance which accompanied them, which turned the banker’s blood to g) ice. $ ‘‘ Walter,” he said, abruptly, ‘‘leave the room.” i The boy, who had been curiously eying the handsomely dressed stranger, ran out of the room, but not before the colonel | had patted the lad’s curly locks. ‘* That's a fine-looking lad,”’ said he, when the two men were alone. ‘‘ Your own, I suppose. He'll be a great man when he grows up.” ‘‘I suppose you haven’t come here to speak to me about my son,”’ irritably exclaimed the banker. ‘* Assuredly not, although he is vitally interested in the sub- ject of our discussion. Suppose we take a seat, Mr. Thorndyke. We'll get along better that way.”’ With an air of easy nonchalance, which no one would have supposed John Baxter to have possessed, the colonel threw him- self into a chair, and taking out a couple of cigars, politely of- | fered one of them to the banker. The latter made a gesture of refusal. ‘‘Oh, come now,”’ exclaimed the colonel, striking a match to light his own cigar. ‘‘I know you smoke. In fact, I’ve seen you.” ‘“‘ You've seen me?” echoed Mr. Thorndyke. ‘‘I was not aware, sir, that we had had any previous acquaintance.” ‘‘T don’t say we have had. Still, 1 might have seen you without your seeing me. Come now, you'll take a cigar, wou't you?” The banker took it, and mechanically Jit it. ‘* You saw me without my seeing you,” he slowly said. ‘‘ Do me?’’ ‘* Exactly,” smilingly replied the colonel, puffing a huge cloud of smoke from his mouth; ‘‘and no later than last night.” The banker sprang to his feet. His face grew deathly pale, and his eyes dilated with a sort of desperate terror. ‘* Last night!” he fairly hissed between his teeth. ‘* Keep cool, Mr. Thorndyke, keep cool, and don’t make any movement toward your hip-pocket. drop on you, you know. We Californians have a trick of doing that, you know.” ‘‘T don’t believe you are a Californian at all,” retorted Mr. Thorndyke. ‘*See, there, now, how clear-headed you are,” continued ‘the colonel, in his bantering tone. ‘‘ You’ve seen through me at a glance. Yes, I’m tothe mud and manner born. I don’t be- lieve I’ve been ont of New York in my life. only a little dust thrown into other people’s eyes, say, like pocketing ninety thousand dollars, and saddling the theft on a poor wretch of a clerk.”’ ‘‘Ha! has my clerk betrayed me?” cried the banker. ‘Oh, no; poor fellow, he can’t betray you; he’s dead. Mr. Thorndyke started back as if he had been shot. ‘‘ Dead!” he gasped. ‘‘Murdered! By whom?” ‘‘Oh, come now, you are asking too much,” coolly returned the colonel, knocking the ashes from his cigar. ‘‘And yet, who would have a motive to murder him—to whom would he be a | menace as long as he lived? Who is it that shared ten thousand ' ticket to leave the country? Answer me those questions, Mr. Thorndyke, and I will tell vou who his murderer is,” The banker sank in his chair with a groan. 8 Who was this fiend in human shape who was acquainted with | 10 THE LOG CABIN you intend me to construe that to mean that you were watching | I’d be sure to have the’ atovete ' : And my title is| | also arising. —- a ae ee No, 302. where,” he added, looking at his watch, ‘‘my presence just now all he deemed buried in his own heart, who spoke so glibly of the murder of his ill-fated clerk? Had he himself murdered him, and had he come to charge him with the act? The banker saw a web of circumstantial evidence tightening its meshes about him, from which he could not hope to escape. He was most benefited by the clerk’s death, and the world would ad- judge him guilty of being an accomplice, if not the actual per- petrator of the murder. The banker was one of those men whom the bad morals of Wall street had made exceedingly lax in all money matters, but who had a great horror of all personal violence. The thought of the gallows looming over his head, innocent though he was, robbed him of all his strength and power of will. He turned a ghastly face toward the colonel, and with a feeble attempt at a smile, said: ‘*You know too much, colonel, not to know that Iam guilt- less of Ernest Minturn’s death. I can now understand the ob- ject of your visit here. In some way you have obtained a knowledge of—of what happened last night, andon the strength of that you have come here to blackmail me.”’ ‘* You do me wrong, sir,’’ replied the colonel; ‘‘I do not want a penny of you. Nay, more, to prove to you that I have not lost confidence in you, I am ready to make a deposit with you. There is the money. It is eight thousand dollars.”’ He drew the package with the money out of his pocket, and opening the parcel, placed it on the tuble. ‘* You may count it, if you please,” he added, ‘‘to see if it is correct.” Tie banker had no need of counting it. He recognized the paper of tke parcel; he recognized the bags containing the gold. ‘‘It is the money I gave my clerk,”’ he faltered. ‘‘Well, ves,’ admitted the colonel, ‘‘all except a couple of thousand, which 1 have used, or intend to use for my own needs. Now, as to my object in coming here. Briefly, then, as a pocr, miserable tramp, I followed you into your banking- house last night, and overheard all. I can hand you over to the law. You are as much in my power to-day as your clerk was last night. ‘That would be a case of diamond cut diamond. But moved by a spirit of philanthropy, I come to offer you a proposition which will preserve the honor of your name, and your financial standing.” ‘*] do not understand you,” said Mr. Thorndyke, though his heart beat more lightly. ‘‘It is very simple. You anticipate a run on your bank. Re- onfidence to your depositors, and they will not bother you about their deposits.”’ ‘But how can I restore that confidence?’ ‘““By announcing that Colonel Edward M. Austen, the wealthy ranchero from California, has invested one million dollars in your business, and become your partner.”’ ‘* You, my partner!” cried the banker, starting to his feet. “You a ‘‘ Please don’t finish’ the sentence,”’ interrupted the colonel, ‘* Either I become your partner, or——’”’ ‘‘What shall be the name of the firm?’, ‘‘T am glad to see that you are sensible enough to yield. As for the name of the firm, you can make it anything you please, say ‘Thorndyke & Co.’ We will now go down to your office, and if the clerks are not there yet, there'll be no need to saya word about the robbery. We will have the articles of partner- ship drawn up to-duvy, and as I havea young daughter who is now two years of age, and you a bright, promising boy, you may add the stipulation that it is our mutual wish that our inter- ests may be more closely united by the marriage of our off- dollars of the ill-gotten proceeds with him, and gave him a| springs with each other when they arrive at a suitable age.” With a deep sigh, the banker, who was henceforth to be a tool in the hands of the cleverer villain, acquiesced in the prop- osition, and led the way out of the house to the carriage still standing in the street. ge - 4% y a , a on ll, r ‘gt -™- — i ; ‘ Ph * v