Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 229 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 229: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from Chapter XXIV of a Victorian penny dreadful titled "My Lord Rawdon and the Runty Rebel." The text describes a character named Tom (later called Anderson) arriving at a house in Tradd Street on a dangerous nighttime mission during what appears to be the American Revolution or Civil War. He seeks to communicate with a gentleman in hiding, assuring a stately woman of the household—who turns pale upon his cryptic description—that he is not a traitor but works for Sumter's staff, implying he supports the American cause.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHAPTER XXIV ‘MY LORD RAWDON AND THE RUNTY REBEL At dark Tom set out on his dangerous mission. The mistress of the household was in sympathy with the American cause. Nevertheless, a blunder would be fatal. Strong excitement gripped him as he approached the house in [T’radd Street. It was an old, somber, shabby edi- fice. Leafless, rusty wistaria vines overran the double gal- lery. As yet the candles were unlighted. The indications were that he was in time. The gate in the garden wall was locked. He rang the bell in the brick pillar, and waited, it seemed to him, half an hour. And life and death hung on the minutes. It was so quiet he could hear the unlock- ing of the hall door. An old negress came out, carrying a brass lantern big as a sugar-loaf. She opened the gate, murmured some gentle observation on the exigencies of war times, relocked the iron door, and led on. As Ander- son went up the steps, a woman advanced to meet him, a stately, sad-eyed lady, with courage and will-force enow to have furnished the world with a new Maria Theresa. The boy made a soldierly obeisance, his throat dry as a cracked gourd. ‘Pardon me for troubling you, madam. | have a com- munication for a gentleman who is here.” “His name, sir?” He Is from the country. A small man, suffering from lameness.” Now she turned white to the lips. With a gesture she led the way into the drawing-room. Leaning against the closed door, she said sternly, — Explain yourself, sir. “Tf he is in this house, take me to him. His life’s in danger. You need not fear treachery. I’m on Sumter’s staff.” CORNICLOOO® SS (C() m