The Lights o' Gotham; or, The Gilded Villain — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

a THE LOG CABIN LIBRARY. sound in the snow behind him, as of some one approaching, and he crouched in the dark shadow at the side of the steps, just in time to let the person, whoever it was, pass by him without ob- serving him. It was a man of portly bearing and appearance, closely muffled up in furs and a great-coat, and carrying an um- brella in his hand to shield him from the storm. The stranger appeared well-to-do—was, probably—so thought John Baxter—a belated merchant on his. way to Brooklyn across the ferry at the foot of Wall street. Very likely he had gold in his pockets and valuable jewelry on his person. ‘The street was empty, there was no one to see. on crime to creep behind him and strangle the money out of him, In spite of the misery he had endured, John Baxter was a tall, powerful man. In his younger days he had been noted as an athlete, and especially excelled in club-swinging, which requires a firm grip and iron muscles, DBesides, attacking him from be- hind, he could take the stranger at a decided disadvantage, and the whole thing could be over in a few minutes. All this passed like a flash of lightning through John Baxter's brain, and then, with a steely glitter in his eyes and murder in his heart, he crept forward from his hiding-place and noiselessly followed the stranger. At the moment when, having passed half-way down the block, he was about to spring upon his victim, the latter suddenly paused in front of a private banking-house, the gilt sign above the door of which bore the inscription: ‘‘WrntAM T. THORNDYKE, BANKER.” The would-be murderer shrank behind a door step, and thus escaped detection. It was lucky for him that he did so, for the stranger glanced several times around him as if to assure him- self that there was no one In sight. Then he drew a key from his pocket and approached the heavy iron door of the private banking-house. John Baxter, from his hiding-place, watched his every move- ment. ‘‘Hello!” he ejaculated to himself in profound surprise, ‘‘ has the portly gentleman come down to Wall street on the same Well, [ll never trust to appearances again. I guess I'll have my share errand as I have? It’s lucky, however, that I’m here. of the swag.”’ The stranger had by this time approached the door, and was about to insert the key in the lock, when he, in turn, made a dis- covery which drew from him an ejaculation of surprise. ‘‘ Hello!’ he exclaimed, ‘‘ the door is open! Have others been before me? If so, this ends all.” As he thus spoke he.drew a revolver from his pocket and cocked it. Seeing the weapon and the action, Baxter shrugged his shoul- ders and philosophically muttered: ‘¢Tt’s just as well that I didn’t tackle him. might have a seven-shooter with him.” The stranger opened the door so softly that not the slightest sound was heard, and then stepping into the hall-way, deliber- ately removed his shoes. These he left in the hall, and, still holding his revolver cocked in his hand, he crept forward in the darkness. silently, of course, but with the assurance of a man well acquainted with the place. Whether he did not think it worth while, or, in the flurry of the discovery, had forgotton it, he did not lock the front door, and Baxter, reckless of consequences, and determined to come in for his share of the profits at the end of this strange adven- ture, having noticed it, glided into the hall-way after him. By this time the stranger had turned the corner of the hall- way, and so was not aware that any one had entered after him, and no sound of the opening of the door reached his ears. At the end of the bend in the hall were the glass doors lead- ing into the private banking-house, and these doors, too, were open. I didn’t think he | ’ ' No. 302. — ‘‘There’s no doubt some one has been here or is here still,” muttered the stranger, as with redoubled caution he glided into the banking compartments. These consisted of the usual outer office, with its desks and railing, from which a door, with a ground glass window, opened into the banker’s private office, in which was a hugh safe im- bedded in the wall. The mysterious portly gentleman saw the faint glimmer of a light proceeding from within the private office, and peering through the keyhole, satisfied himself that there was some one How easy for the tramp bent} within. “T’ll soon find out who it is,” he muttered, with a grim chuckle, and holding the cocked weapon in his right hand, he turned the knob with his left, and suddenly opening the door, strode into the private office. The gas had been lit, but turned down low, and in the semi- obscurity he saw a young man, with his back turned toward him, kneeling down before the open door of the safe, and just on the point of unlocking the inner compartment which contained the money. At the sound made by the opening of the door, the young man hastily turned around, and at the sight of the new-comer his face became as pale as death, the keys dropped from his hands, and falling flat before him, he despairingly exclaimed: ‘* You here, Mr. Thorndyke!” John Baxter, with some difficulty, had followed in the foot- steps ofthe man who had gone before him, and was now enscon- ced behind a screen in the outer office, from which he had seen the little tableau which had just taken place. ‘Ho, ho,” he thought, with difficulty restraining a whistle of surprise. ‘*So this is the banker himself. He comesto his office at night, Heaven only knows why, and finds one of his clerks rifling the safe. This is getting to be decidedly interest- ing. Luckily I can see and overhear everything; so go on with your play, gentlemen, the audience is waiting.’’ A sort of grim humor had taken possession of Baxter. He had started out on a career of crime, and already met companions in the same pursuit. He felt sure of being benefited by the upshot whatever it was, and in the meantime the idea of companionship greatly pleased him. Mr. Thorndyke, for it was indeed he, looked at his prostrate clerk for some moments with an air of surprised severity, then an idea seemed to strike him, and his features relaxed into an expression of pitying compassion which, however, was somewhat relieved by an almost merry twinklein his small gray eyes. ‘*So, so,” he slowly said, ‘‘this is where I find .Ernest Min- turn, my confidential clerk, my model young man, whom when a boy I took in through charity, and have advanced step by step until JT intrusted him with the combination and the key of the inner safe! This is how he repays his benefactor for his confi- dence and trust.” ‘‘ Mercy! mercy!” implored the young man, struggling into a kneeling posture, and raising his tear-stained- face toward his employer. ‘‘I know I did wrong; 1 know I ought not to have done it. But I didn’t touch a penny, sir, indeed I didn’t. You ean see for yourself that the inner chamber is locked, you can count the money, you will find 1t intact.’’ ‘‘ But you intended to rob me; you would have done so had I not prevented you. How could you thus give way to tempta- tion, you, whose moral precepts were always so high?” ‘‘ How,” repeated the young man, in a dazed sort of way. ‘I have had such troubles. ‘‘My wife—you know I have been married three years—is sickly, and my little girl, too, whom I love, Heaven only knows how I love my child, she, too, has been ailing, and the doctor’s bills took away nearly all my salary. I[ ran into debt, I saw no way of getting out of it save makiny a hit in stocks. I placed small sums on ‘puts and calls.’ Sometimes I won, then lost. My position here gave me credit. I took ad- p47. A, ' } : oad wr b> Peet we ve | ee “- -& - - 5 oe . a> a —— = we ~~ » - 7 5 — . eS al » - 2 ee ie comicbooks.com al rr. *6- - Ad_ e_ ad a ee om va : ~~