Detective Bob Bridger — page 184: what you’re looking at

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

j DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 177 It was a large, carpetless, barn-like room. Upon four chairs at its center rested an undertaker’s ice- box, in which, covered by a coarse canvas, lay the dead man’s body. Seated near here the coroner, the jury, the two physi- cians, and the railway’s attorney. + dozen railroad laborers, hats off, stood respectfully aside. To the left, by themselves, sat Detective Hoffman and his two prisoners. The men were dressed fashionably, and wore a defiant air of injured innocence. In the one the Scotch detective and Bridger instantly recognized the red-bearded, squeaking-voiced Englishman who had purchased the sand-bag in Goucher’s den. His fellow was a thin little | man, wearing a long black beard, and coughing incessantly. His assurance was interesting, and he ogled everything and everybody through his fashionable single-barreled eye- glass, as if all present were but swine as compared to him- self. As the detectives and the sheriff entered, the coroner, attorney, and Hoffman sprang to their feet and approached them. . Hoffman’s hand clutched Bridger’s, and Bridger intro- duced the Scotch detective. “T'll give you the pointer,” whispered Hoffman in Brid- ger’s ear. “that this man Videre has sent fifty telegrams to Washington, and a dozen cablegrams to England, since I’ve had him in charge, and the British Minister has en- listed the good-will of the railway company and its attor- ney to secure his release.” “Gentlemen,” said the attorney, coming forward, “an outrage has been committed in the arrest of these gentle- | men—two English tourists, indorsed by a number of the leading firms in London—and I have special instructions from Washington to secure their release.” “Are you the coroner?” asked the Scotch detective. “No, sir; I am the railway company’s attorney at this place—”’ “AndIam the coroner,” said a portly, gray-haired man, stepping forward. “A word in private with you,” quoth the Scotch detec- tive, and the detectives and the coroner retired aside. The attorney dropped to a seat near the prisoner’s, and held a whispered consultation, cComicbooks (eco)