Marion Marlowe in Chicago, or, Trapped by a Lunatic — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

18 had reason to fear the maniac. “Here, I'll go with you, young man; you'll never be able to handle him alone! Get a grip on that other arm before he swings jit!’’ There was a short, sharp struggle, and the maniac was forced into the ambulance; then both the officer and the surgeon climbed in and sat down on him. Dr. Brookes was in the full glare of the hght as the ambulance started, and, with the first clang of the bell; the madman yelled back at him: “They did it! Temple and Miss Marlowe! But I’ve squared my account with them! I’ve paid them for locking me in the lunatic asylum !” CHAPTER IX. TH &- FIRST SLEW. The doctor’s handsome face paled as he caught the terrible words, and the next min- ute he and Bert were staring at each other. “So it is a plot!’ Marion has been trapped!” _cried Bert, frantically. ‘Oh, the fiend! I have a notion to follow that ambulance and pound the life out of him!” | “He knows where they are—both Marion and Mr. Temple! I am sure of it!’ was the doctor’s reply. | | Bert turned to look for the other police- man, but he had disappeared like magic as soon as the ambulance departed. “Gee whiz! He lit out quick! He might have helped us!” cried the youth. “I sup- pose if I yell for him, I'll bring on a riot!” “Yes; don’t do it!” was the doctor’s low answer, as he peered at the faces of the re- markably quiet crowd. ‘They are not saying much, but they look as if they meant busi- ness.” “T feel as if I could wade in and lick the lot of them,” muttered Bert, “and I'd try it in a minute if it would bring me any nearer to Marion.” “Tt don’t understand about Preston being out here,” was the answer. “He was in Mat- teawan at last accounts, and [ heard that he was a hopeless case, Can it be possible that it was not Preston?” “Not a bit of it! I knew his voice in a MY QUEEN. minute!” said Bert, “and who else could have said what he yelled back—that Temple and Marion put him in the asylum?” They had broken through the small cfowd as they spoke and were nearing the carriage when some one jerked the sleeve of the doc- tor’s coat violently. The young man stopped short. It was a dwarfish-looking negro who had hold of him. As he glanced down into the black face, he could hardly restrain his im-— patience. “Let go of me! What do you mean?” he began, and then stopped. There was some- thing in the cunning. face that made him sud- denly susp@ious. The fellow raised himself on tiptoe and muttered something. It was an incoherent jargon, but still Dr. Brookes hesitated. “This fellow knows something. Wait,” he called out to Bert, but the youth had already joined the ladies in the carriage. The miser- able creatures who formed the crowd had slunk away like so many rats to their holes, all except the apish fellow, who was still gripping the doctor’s coat sleeve. Reginald Brookes bent a little so as to see him more clearly in the darkness. “He is er bad egg, boss, dat coon,” mut- tered the fellow. He done bring a gal down hyar ter night, an’ him as crazy as er bedbug an’ drunk as er lobster!” +B J Dr. Brookes caught only a few words, but they were quite enough. Grabbing the fel- low by the shoulder, he dragged him to the carriage. “He says that Preston brought a girl out here from the city to-night,” he repeated to his companions. “Can it be possible that it was Marion?” “God forbid!’ muttered Miss Allyn, with a ery of horror; then she calmed herself in- stantly and peered closely at the fellow. Bert had already told them who the mad- man was, and, for awhile, it was almost im- possible to think very clearly, but Miss Allyn was a woman of unusual nerve, and her wits never deserted her, even in the most trying morments, “Make him take us where he saw the girl, at once!" she said, quickly. “We must find cComilebooks, com