Detective Bob Bridger — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

: DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. 73 ““About the room he chased me, striking furiously—I making the chair my shield. ‘‘The man seemed crazed, and as if but half awake. ‘At length he paused, well out of breath, and glared toward me like a wild beast at bay. | ‘‘T realized that the encounter meant death to one of us. ‘Pulling forth a revolver I cast aside the chair and cocked and leveled the weapon at his head. ‘Our eyes met, and I was cool and determined. ‘“*Tron Mike,’ I commanded, ‘hold up your hands !’ wee AS if by impulse, he raised his hands above his head, his right still clutching the corn-knife’s handle. “Keeping my pistol at his head, and my eye to his, [ took the handcuffs again from my pocket. ‘Drop that knife!’ I cried, as I advanced toward him. ‘‘Hor a moment his eyes rolled wildly from side to side. ‘Suddenly closing them, he brought the keen cleaver to a level with his throat, drew it violently across, causing a frightful gash, from which the blood gushed in a torrent, and, with a dull thud, fell forward upon the floor dead. “The sight sickened me, and I almost felt as you did, Bobe, when your passengers had plunged to their deaths. ‘‘In fact, it seemed to me as if my mind’s picture of Jean Godot’s murder had been transmitted so as to impress Bolard’s faculties, and suggest the method of his death.” ‘‘Let me understand,’ interrupted Bridger. ‘‘Did you know in England that Bolard and Videre were ‘crooked’ people, and father and son?” ‘‘l wish I had, Bobe,” returned the Scotch detective. ‘But I learned that for the first in the strange interview I have recounted.” ‘‘And have you cabled the police authorities in London regarding the identity of this man Videre with Jack Drugo?” asked Dr. Macy. ‘‘T have not,” returned the Scotch detective. ‘‘But I have sent them a verbatim report of this interview, and asked them to find out if Videre and the ‘Squealer’ are the same.’ ‘‘Did you ever meet this man Videre?” asked Bridger. ‘‘T never had that luck, Bobe,” returned the Scotch de- tective. “But I have seen the ‘Squealer’s’ picture in the Rogues’ Gallery, and would likely know him. “My thoughts were of Annette,” continued the Scotch detective, ‘‘and as the suicide fell I sprang to the window and lifted the blind to see if the train was still at the depot, EOmMIcbDoOO cS €o