Detective Bob Bridger — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 141 he exerted himself to be free and demonstrate to his mas- ter that something unusual was going on. Arriving in the upper hall-way, the. detectives perceived that it was in size the same as that beneath. A stair-way at their left led to the upper house, to the right and rear were dead walls, and to the left were three doors leading, as the sleuth-hounds supposed, to the three apartments occupied by Billy, Meg Bolard, and Annette. As the detectives advanced up the hall-way they heard voices within the apartment to which the third door opened. Suddenly the noise of the dog ended in a whine, as if his master had whipped him to silence. The conversation then came plainly from the room to the ears of the sleuth-hounds, as with bated breath they stood listening without the door. | It became evident at once that the parties within were no other than Meg Bolard and Annette. “You can’t stand it any longer, eh? Is that what you say to me, me foine lady? Well, you’ll have to stand it, the same as mesilf, thin,” said the harsh voice of Meg Bo- lard. “Oh, but it is so horrible to live here, hiding from all the world this way,” returned the musical voice of Annette. “Td rather be ina genuine prison, Mam Meg, than here. Besides, we might live in many better places than this, where we would be at no one’s mercy, and could walk out and be at liberty, without danger of the piano-tuner find- ing us.” “You think so? You think so, eh?” “Yes, I do.” “Well, bad luck to ye, my little darling, it’s mesilf well knows that that piano-tuner you spake so often of is. more than a piano tuner. A detective he is, and from the Scot- land Yard, London—there, for ye! An’ he’s after yer father, an’ me, an’ Billy, to ruin us all wid a trumped-up charge to make money. And phat’s more, I belaves that ye knew he was such whin ye come wid him from Corydon on the thrain. And it’s mesilf belaves ye’d be glad if he’d pop right in on us here. Answer me the truth then, wid you—am I right?” Meg’s voice had grown violent, and when she had ended speaking there was a pause for a moment. Then came Annette’s answer, as soft and solemn asif it were a prayer to Heaven. “For my part,” she said, “I would pray it turn so.”’ “What? You ungrateful hussy! Wad ye consign yer. Eomicbooks Go