Darke Darrell, the Boy Detective — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

DARKE: DARRELL. 83 like a sailor, and with much grace, dexterity, and self- possession. She stepped softly along the balcony; a cat could not have made lessnoise. She stopped beside the door which opened into the library and listened. She heard no noise inside. She put her hand on the knob, and softly opened the door, scarcely an inch at a time, for she did not know who might be in the room. Once inside of it, she as noiselessly reclosed the door. She flashed her eyes about her, intuitively realizing that there was some one in the room. She judged, too, by the coldness of the air, that the trap was open. Looking in that direction she saw something that caused a thrill of exultation to pass over her. Tim Jordan was sitting over the opening, with his legs dangling into it. A few faint rays of the lantern, which stood on the floor of the dungeon, shot upward and flickered _ on the ceiling of the library. She heard his exclamation of disappointment and surprise, and knew that Darke had made his escape, from the dun- _ geon at least. Suddenly a look of delight, that had pomeLg fiendish init, crossed her face. “‘T had no ee that an opportunity for revenge would come so soon,” she thought, with repressed leata laws _ © And in kind, too! Ill see how he likes being imprisoned.” She glided through the shadows with a cat-like stealth- iness, her hands thrust in front of her, her eyes beaming, her _ lips firmly compressed. Not a creak of the floor, nota rustle of her dress, not an overdrawn breath. She stopped just behind him, as if to _ gather her strength. Tim had not the slightest suspicion that his enemy was -sonear. Hestill held his revolver in his hand, and it was Gomicbooks (E(0) im 3 cocked.