Laura Brayton — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

169 LAURA BRAYTON, © CHAPTER XXXIII. “HOW COULD HE HAVE DISAPPEARED?” When the day dawned on Enoch Sharp, his face was ghastly with vindictive rage, and the effects of a night of terror and unrest. Until it dawned he would not move from the spot where he had crept, alongside of the snoring gambler, Bartram. Then his courage returned sufficiently for him to get up, and with kicks and blows to arouse his companion. When the latter; yawning, and groaning with a headache, and all the other nameless aches which punish the drunkard for his excesses, rose, Sharp made him assist in a careful examination of every part of the room, especially of the spot where he but too distinctly saw the fearful apparition which had thrown him into a swoon. Nothing, however, rewarded the search. There was no sign of any presence, or of any artificial means of making a picture like that which had so terrified him. “Haunted! Possessed! There is no more rest for me!” groaned the miserable lawyer. “And that is why you will not let me rest? Why don’t you kill a fellow at once and not murder him by inches!” cried Bartram. “You'd haunt me too, I suppose |” said Sharp, in a hollow tone. “You’re a pooty boss, you are!” cried Joe, coming in as he always did, unannounced, and without comicbooks.com — a woe