A Daughter of Delilah — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

“GILBERT ROSEBERRY, YOU ARE MY PRISONER! 33 The detective laughed ironically, and Edgar Alston’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘‘Now, don’t try to bluff me any more,’’ he sneered, ‘‘and understand that I’ve got you covered, even if my right hand is in the breast-pocket of my coat. I suppose the ladies’’—jerking one thumb behind him—‘‘are covering your tracks. Women always are as faithful as dogs to such fellows as you!”’ Alston stared at the man before him and then burst into laughter. ‘““By Jove! this is too good,’’ he said. ‘‘Who the duse do > you take me for? But for the amusing part of it, I’d chuck you out. Come, speak up, man!”’ “Tt’s of no use, Gilbert Roseberry,’’ the detective re- plied, sententiously. ‘‘You know me, and I know you.”’ His eyes never left Alston now, and the right hand that slipped from the breast-pocket of his ulster revealed a gleaming six-shooter. ‘Tam Nat Hawkley, andIlam going to take you back to the Frankfort Penitentiary either dead or alive.”’ “When did you make this precious discovery?’’ de- manded Edgar. ‘‘You can drop that pistol. I give you my word of honor that I shall not attempt to escape. ”’ ‘No, sir. I shall not drop it,’’ said Hawkley. ‘“‘Gilbert Roseberry, you are my prisoner !’’ He advanced a pace, and Alston retorted: ‘Stand back, you fool! You must be mad! Convicts just out of prison do not usually wear hair upon their faces, and very little on their heads. Iam not the man you want. Anend to this buffoonery, quickly! My aunt and sister will become alarmed.’’ Eomichboo cS (E(@) m