Puck — March 1877 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

PUCK. after the health of the lady [ lad rescued. Poor old boy! I soon found out that I had cruelly injured him. My dear madam, the term virago was a mild one for the mild old gentle- man’s rescued spouse. She was young enough to be his daughter; but he might have been a little boy, and she his mother, by the way she reprimanded and chastised him. She'd used him shamefully, he told me, for ten years; and as soon as she got over the shock of the fire, she expressed herself ready to go on for another decade. And she kept her word. I have seen that woman, my dear madam, knock him down, flour him, and roll him with a rolling-pin, pre- tending he was paste and she would make a pie ofhim. Ihave known her stand him on his head in a corner for an hour at atime. I have heard of her putting. him in a copper with the washing, and boiling him within an inch of his life. The discovery was such a shock to me, that I never called upon my third stage at all. I felt, with two such matrimonial experiences, it would be tempting Providence. When Iknew to what torture by rescuing his wife I had con- demned this unhappy man, I determined in- stead to atone for the evil 1 had wrought. I have lodgings in his house, and suffer in his stead. So long as she Harnunets somne: one, her temper is appeased. I undergo the-rolling now; T strad on ny head in ‘the corner; I have known the inside of a copper, and can speak with authority concerning boiling suds. The mo- ment they commence to quarrel I step between them and take the consequences. I owe this much to the man I have injured. She was very violent yesterday. I stepped between them— the consequence you perceive. ‘That, my dear madam, is the story of my life and of my black “Mr, Strickland,” exclaimed my wife, her cheeks glowing with enthusiasm, “I admire your courage—I respect your self-sacrifice. I trust, as one of my husband's dearest friends, Ishall see much of you. When he renews his visits to the martyrs and Palestine, I am sure he can do so in no better company than yours.”” We shook hands and parted. I wondered, then, how it was my friend had never mentioned these singular circumstances to me before. I wonder now. fe flomanes of a foarding House. BY MARK JNSLEE. (Concluded.) person might engage passage by a steam- Re conticed Richard, “register his name, and never sail; the vessel might sink, and that person’s name might appear among the list of people drowned, and every- body would believe it true, if the interested party never turned up again to say a word to the contrary. A lunatic asylum. Great guns! I don’t wonder she wanted to sail by the first steamer. Oh, if I could only be her protector! I always thought Colcott was a villain, his face shows it. What luck 1 have. If I had not been so generous with my fifteen dollars she'd never have gone away.” Richard was seated in the office of Badger & Banger the next sorning; when the hall- door was opened and a lady, closely veiled, entered. She came to his desk. «Mr. Lane, may I speak with you a moment?” Then she raised her veil, and Richard saw Florence Kingsley standing before him. “Miss Kir—Kingsley,” he cried. “Yes,” she replied, ‘‘I have come to see you ‘on. business of great importance.” IL Richard’s face beamed with pleasure. GEORGE SAXON. “I want to ask a favor.” “And I shall be delighted to grant it, if it is in my power,” “T have found it necessary to ask advice of a lawyer. Iam very poor, I have almost no- thing in the world, and no friends, and I ven- tured to come to you. You will not think harshly of me, for you are almost a stranger to me.” “Ol Miss Kir—Kingsley, I could desire no higher happiness than serving you. You honor me by coming to me.” “Mr. Lane, I have suffered a great wrong at the hands of a man by the name of Colcott. ‘The one you heard spoken of at Mrs. Bowzer's table.” “Yes, yes, Lknow.” “You know?” “Yes—that is—I know that he has treated you outrageously. What I heard at Mrs. Bow- zer’s, and—and some things that have come before my notice here, have given me that in- formation. But speak low, Miss Kingsley, he is a client of this Arn , and it would not be well for any one to overhear us.” “Then I need not go into details. You know that I am entitled, by every principle of right and justice, to money which has fallen into that man’s hands.” Richard nodded his head emphatically. “But, for reasons I will not speak of now, I cannot go near him.” “Very naturally,” said Richard, sympatheti- cally. “But I will have what is my due, and I wished to ask if it were not possible for mu to obtain it and to receive™.the money through a third person; yourself, if you would be so good, some one who would not betray my whereabouts.” “ Miss Kingsley, I will undertake this affair with the greatest pleasure. If you will leave the matter entirely in my hands, it is possible I may do better for you than you think. But you must act as I suggest. You need not fear, no harm shall come to you! I will protect you from such a villain even as Amos Colcott.”” “And before I go, Mr. Lane, I suppose I ought tosay that the will you have heard spoken of, is perfectly incomprehensible to me.” “The will,” said Richard. ‘Ah, I copied that will here, myself, only two days ago. I was well acquainted with one of the witnesses; he died a short time since, in California.” “Frequently a thought has passed through my mind,” continued Florence, “that that will was not altogether correct, and that Amos Col- cott—"" “Hush-—’sh!” said Richard starting up, and looking around excitedly. “Do not speak so loud; | there may be more in this matter than we think. | When did Mr. Colcott produce this will?” “Two weeks ago.” “And it had never been heard of until then?” “ Never.” “Ah! Mr. Colcott may have gone further than is good for him. Where can I see you again, Miss Kingsley? It will hardly do for you to come here.” “And I am in miserable lodgings; I have no place to ask you to, Mr. Lane.” “Well, I will call for you, if you will give me your address, at half-past six this evening. If you will take 4 walk with me at that ume, I shall’ be able to tell you my plans. I will think the matter over until then.”” ‘ Florence gave him her address, thanked: him with a sweet smile, which he thought more pre- cious than the most liberal fee, and bade him “ good-day.” “To think that I am able to be of service to her,” he said to himself, ‘‘And that will, I am) sure it's some somndely iece- of work. Never discovered at all until death at sea, 1am afraid Mr. Amos Colcott is jer her Supposed a ie, First/he terrified her by threatening to put henin an insane asylum,so that he may get possession of her property, and when: she* is frightened into running away and everybody thinks:her dead, he forges her father’s name to a will leaving everything to himself. If old Kirby really did leave a will, Colcott must have destroyed it. Iwish I could prove it so. 1 think I'could keep him from persecuting her then, very easily.” CHAPTER II. HE GETS IT. Richard and Florence were walking up-town arm-in-arm. It was the first time he had ever felt the pressure of her little hand. “It was not altogether unpleasant, though he would have preferred to clasp the delicate fingers in his own rather than have them resting so demurely on his coat-sleeve. “Miss Kingsley,” he said, “I have a sug- gestion to make, though I am afraid you will not regard it very favorably. It is this. I know that 78 stand in great dread of Mr. Colcott, but if you can master that dread foran hour or so, we may be certain of success, I can put you at your case immediately, [ think, by as- suring you that you have nothing to fear. I will protect you in any event, and T a knowledge which will prove quite as effective as any talisman in warding off the evil that man might wish to do you.” “What is your plan?” asked Florence. “Go with me to his house, keep your veil down until I ask you to raise it, so that I can confront him with the proof of his villainy.” “Do you think his heart could be softened in that way?” “T do,” replied Richard. “Then I will put implicit trust in you. Whatever you suggest I will agree to.”” ‘They were but a few minutes in reaching Mr, Colcott’s house. Richard sent his name up and told the servant to say, ‘with the firm of Badger & Banger.” When Mr. Colcott entered the room, Richard rose, and sai “You will pardon this intrusion, but it is oc- casioned by business of importance. ‘This is my fete sir, I brought her out with me for a walk.” Mr. Colcott uttered a ‘‘Humph!” and mo- tioned him to be seated. “It was with reference, Mr. Colcott, to your ward, Miss Florence Kirby, and the will left by her father, which gave you the property at her death.” Mr. Colcott started, that is, what was a start for him. It consisted in a slight twitch of the left eyebrow. “Well, I copied* that will in our office the other day, and it struck me as peculiar," said Richard, witha drawl upon the word “peculiar,” and in a very innocent and mild manner. “Oh! it struck you as peculiar, did it,” said Mr. Colcott in a. iron sort of way. “Yes, it struck meas peculiar—" “See: here, young man,” interrupted Mr. Colcott, “were you sent here by the firm that employs you, to talk about matters which do not concern you?” “Well, no, sir; I can't exactly say I was. I am acting entirely for myself in this matter.” “Ah, indeed. ‘Then it me to say that my time is valuable, and dacteawees no reason why-you should extend your visit any longer,” andMr. Colcott rose from his chair and pointed toward the door. “Just one moment, if you please, Mr. Col- cott. Really, I am in no , and I have a bit of information which may prove interesting to.you. Oh, yes, you must¢-hear it. It's about this Miss, Florence: Kirby. What» would: you say, if she were not dead at all?’ Ah, that does || comicbooks.com