Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 384 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 384: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Victorian Penny Dreadful Page Analysis This is a page of running prose narrative from *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil*, a serialized Victorian sensation story. The text depicts the dramatic aftermath of a shooting: a young man named Arthur (Captain Leslie) has been shot and lies unconscious; the protagonist Dare faints upon learning this, then awakens to find herself in the library attended by Dr. Pratt and others. The passage establishes that the shooter has escaped unidentified, that a pistol belonging to Tarleton's Legion was used, and that British officers were present at the scene. The narrative emphasizes mystery and confusion—no clue to the shooter's identity has been found.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
364 Tom ANDERSON, DarE-DEVIL “By God, sir, it’s Arthur! No, no. Not the General; the young fellow —”’ “Captain Leslie; yes —”’ “This way, bring him in here!”’ “Here’s the surgeon! General Leslie’s nephew, Doc- tor —”’ “Shot down like a dog!” Dare’s hand slipped from the stair-railing, and she dropped down in a heap. She opened her eyes on Mimi, Dr. Pratt, and Dilsey. She was lying on the bamboo couch in the library, and Dilsey was crying. “Ts he dead?” she whispered. And Pratt snapped out: “Not by a jugful. Drink this, Miss Mary Josephine.” “How did you get here, Doctor?”’ “Same old sulky with yellow wheels; same old wall- eyed mare, — baptismal name, ‘Mandy.’” ‘Where is he?” They said he was in the next room; Colonel ‘Tarleton was with him. Through the open window, a bugle-call. Then a spurt of flame started up in the cheval-glass; the reflection of a campfire on the lawn. Pratt regarded the little white face among the sofa- cushions with saturnine eyes. His jaw was squarer than common. He bent down and breathed in Dare’s ear, “Who shot him?” “T don’t know. Those British officers were there when I got down the stairs.”’ A pistol — it belonged to some member of ‘Tarleton’s Legion — had been taken from its holster where it lay on the hall table. The weapon had been dropped by the hand that fired it. For the would-be assassin a mad search was on. Who was he? Who knew? Nothing could be learned from Arthur, who was quite unconscious. He had been shot “clean through the body.” ‘The noise, confusion, and twilight gloom had enabled the man who fired upon Leslie to make his escape. There was no trace of him, no clue, ECONVICLOOOKSa(€© m