Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

DARKE DARRELL. 27 “¢ He is dead,” observed Darke. “‘T know,” falteringly, resignedly. ‘* Have you any other friend here?” ** No,” the bright eyes once more on his face. Darke waited, wondering how he could serve her, and whether she considered him presuming. ‘¢T am very sorry for your loss,” he said. ‘You are kind,” she replied, in a quiet, lady-like way. As he watched her, he made a shrewd estimate of her character. ‘She is very meek now,” he commented. ‘* When aroused, I’ll bet she’s a perfect little tigress.” Just then, the physicians, helpers, and crowd of idlers surged that way, most of the other cases having been at- tended to. | The little girl became alarmed; rifts of white crossed her face; she looked at Darke, scrutinizingly, appealingly. ‘‘Stay with me, please,” a tremor in her voice. ‘‘ You wanted to help me, but were afraid to offer.” Celerity seemed to be of more moment than gentleness and tender inquiry. ‘The attendants lifted the dead man, entirely ignoring the girl’s presence. She stood up, her face flushed with angry indignation. She caught Darke’s hand. ‘*We are friends, are we not?” speaking hurriedly, ex- citedly. ‘‘I depend upon you. See that the body can be found and identified when sent for. Get his watch and personal effects. There is a belt around his waist.” He was surprised at the sudden outburst of confidence, at her imperative tone and manner, at her self-possession and thoughtfulness. He obeyed her without a moment’s hesitation. ‘¢ Stop, if you please,” to the two men who had lifted the body. ‘I will take charge of this gentleman’s valuables.” © GOomicbooks (E()