Beadle's Half-Dime Library No. 109 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

10 Holly is innocent, albeit Adair is ready to offer evidence that he was seen to shoot the girl,” ‘“‘T know. He evidently has a grudge against the prisoner which he intends to wipe out now, that he has an opportunity. I have no faith in that man, sir.” ‘iNo more have I. He is an unprincipled vil- lain at heart, in the guise of a lamb, hom do you suspect of the foul deed?” . ‘‘Barry Meredith—or at least, a man we have always known by that name. Hedeceived my poor sister, in Chicago, under the promise of marriage, and then deserted her, The night »srevious to the murder, I received a letter from hima. asking permission to come and see Minnie. I wrote back a blank refusal, and that was the last I heard of him. But I firmly believe that he lured my sister from my home, and murdered her, for he seemed to hate her after he had ac- complished her ruin!” ‘‘ Ah! this throws another light upon the sub- ject!” Phineas Porter said, taking out a han1- some gold watch and noting the time of day. ‘* We have several hours to work on, before the trial takes place. In what manner did you receive this letter from the man Meredith?” ‘Tt was brought to me by an Irish boy named ey Flynn!’ ‘*Ah! yes. I have seen him. I will at once hunt him up, and see what he knows about the matter. If he knows nothing bearing di- rectly aon the case, I think it*will be easy to wit Carroll Holly of the crime.” ‘**T hope so, for I hate to see an innocent man unished, and such I am sure Carroll Holly is,” Edith Yates replied. “ And if you can accom- plish his release, you shall be well rewarded.” ‘* Never fear that I shall ask for pecuniary remuneration for my services, Miss Yates!” the detective replied, earnestly. ‘‘I never charge for my aid to ladies, especially where they are young and charming as yourself.” “There! do not descend to flatte a abhor it. The true detective will work as well for the homely as the handsome,” Edith replied, rising and adjusting her wraps. “Truthfully spoken, miss, and I assure you that your case shall receive my earnest atten- tion!” Porter replied, as he followed her to the door. * You will try to be present at the trial ‘* T will be there, sir.” And bowing gracefully, Edith took her wa back to her home, inwardly voting the detec ive a queer man. A suspicion was gradually entering her mind, which as yet she hardly credited, but which had in it the savor of a startling revelation. Phineas Porter was a strange man, and a shrewd one, too. No serious undertaking was it to him to seize hold of a case and work it up. After Edith’s departure he lit a cigar, and saun- tered over to the ‘ Roost” of Captain Sally Savage. The Captain was not present, but Nance pre- sided behind the bar, and graciously dealt him out a glass of soda, at his request. He drank it, and then proceeded to examine the register up- on the counter, ‘‘T find the name of Yates here,” he said, directly, addressing Nance—‘‘ Oswald Yates. Could you tell me if he isin town?” ‘“* Laws, no!” Nance replied, helping herself to anip of the ‘“cr’atur’” from a black bottle. “ Thet pilgrim only stopped over night and then staged it on to Leadville.” “Don’t know what brought him up in this region, I dare say?” ‘IT reckon not. He war a cluss-mouthed pil- grin, an’ didn’t let out his secrets on halves,’ Having gained what information he could in this direction, the detective betook himself out into the street. ‘The names are the same, and it kind o’ struck rae the man was Edith’s father,” he mused, as he strode ee After a little deliberation he walked along until he came to the town jail, which was a small two-story log building. McAdams the jailer was sitting upon the steps, smoking his pipe, and surveyed the detective insolently as eapproached, A pada: aed subjected tool of Mayor Adair was the jailer, and a man not overburdened with scruples. ‘‘Good-morning,” the detective said, pleas- antly. ‘Glad I’ve found you here, for I ran over to see the prisoner, as | am to work in his defense,” “Oh! ye did, did ye?’ McAdams replied, im pudently. ‘“ Well, ye can’t see him,” ; “ Cannot see him! Why, pray?” ‘“*Ca’se ye can’t. I’ve got ny orders not to let no galoot inside this jail, an’ I opine thar don’t no galoot go in.” cm ee Deadwood Dick as Detective. ee oe en ** But I must see the prisoner. It is important that I should.” ‘* Don’t keer a darned nickel about that, old hoss—ye can’t go in thar, nary a time, while Bill McAdams holds the key!” “I argue different. I am a detective, and unless you admit me at once, I’ll arrest you, as I bave the power to do, and send you to Wash- ington for trial.” ‘Sailin. Dll stand therconsequences. I hed orders frum ther mayor not to let no pilgrim in, an’ I'll bet two dollars ter a red cent ther mayor’s orders ar’ sublime, an’ no chap don’t go in. [’'m a man o’ my word, every day in the week!” Phineas Porter glanced up and down the street, and then turning as quick as a flash, he leaped upon the jailer and seizing him in his hands as though he were but a straw, ‘he raised him above his head and hurled him down to the ground with tremendous force. Evident it was that the detective was a modern Samson in dis- guise, for the extraordinary act seemed to cost him little or no effort. McAdams struck the ground with a heavy thud, and lay insensible where he fell, the blood oozing from his nose and ears. ‘*T hope I’ve not killed the ruffian,” the detec- tive muttered, grasping the keys which had fal- len out of the jailer’s pocket, and unlocking the door to the jail, after which he dragged the in- animate form in from the street. ‘‘I guess he’s only stunned. It’s a hard job to kill a man of his calibre. Now, | wonder if 1 was seen?” Evidently not, as there was no commotion in the street, there being but few abroad. ‘* All right. Now’smy time to visit my client, while this poor cuss is quiet. Maybe he’ll have civility enough to admit me, the next time I come,” And with a grim cbuckle the man of sleuth approached Carroll’s cell. CHAPTER VIII. THE TRIAL BEGINS. THE jail was divided off into eight cells, agen ironed with bars, and floored with stone. In building the structure, these Rough-Shodites had evidently meant to have things safe. In one of the lower cells Phineas Porter found Carroll, lying upon a little cot bed, and smoking a pipeful of tobacco, which McAdams had con- descended to sell him, in consideration of the receipt of one dollar. Carroll nodded carelessly as the detective en- tered. He had seen him and learned his name and business—was not particularly interested in the man, further than that.” “You seem to be taking matters coolly enough,” Porter said, admiringly. ‘‘ You are evidently not fearful of the consequences.” ‘* Not in the least. Fear rarely lends one an advantage,” Carroll replied, coolly. “If I were to sit and bemoan my fate, | would be none the better for it.” ‘*Quite correct, there. You are taking a ra- tional view of the case I see, and Ill try and give you a little assurance bY saying that we on’t intend to let you hang, if we can help it.” ‘“*We? Carroll replie , interrogatively. hy bi may that ‘we’ embrace, besides your- se >] ‘* In mean we, I included Miss Edith Yates, the belle of the candy-shop, below here.” Carroll’s face suddenly lighted as he heard the name. ‘‘She does not believe me guilty, then?” he demanded, eagerly. ‘She does not,” Porter replied. ‘‘She is stout in her belief that you are innocent.” “‘Then I have faith that I shall get out, after all, detective. A woman’s faith and a woman’s influence are all- werful motives, you know.” “So they say,” the detective replied, dryly. ‘But I have a few questions to ask you, which it will be to your advantage to answer. Firstly: did you ever know the deceased?” ** Never even saw her until I stumbled across her body in the gulch.” _ “Where were you bound so early in the morn- ing, when you discovered the bodies?” ‘I was up and off for a hunt. 1 had started early in order to get into the mountains by day- break.” ‘Have you ever known this man, Clancy Adair?” “Yes. He is my bitterest enemy, and upon discovering me by the bodies, he saw a chance to nab me and satisfy his appetite for revenge.” ‘‘What grudge does he hold against you that he should wish to put you under the ground?” ‘Tt is a sort of vendetta between our families. Generations ago there was a tithe of cg | between us, and a fortune to be divided. / ne em ee ee re eee ee rc eee ee quarrel was the result between each generation until my father’s time, when he declared the hostilities at an end, so far as he was concerned. Still this resolve did not affect the other side of the house, as my father bad inherited a bulky fortune from his ancestors, which Clancy Adair claimed was rightfully his. Consequently he would not let the feud drop, and he insulted my father, then challenged him to fight a duel. They met with swords, and after a few thrusts my father received a slight incision in his breast. This ended tbe duel—and also my father’s life, for the wound began to swell frightfully, and the physicians and surgeons de- clared that Clancy Adair’s blade had been »oisoned, and that all efforts tosave my father’s ife would be futile. “On learning this, my father called me to his bedside, and caused me to swear to hunt this murderer down, and settle the feud either by losing my own life, or taking those of Clancy Adair and his son. Then he died. ‘*T at once went into training under an expert master of the sword, rifle and revolver, and poe after two years’ incessant practice. then traveled twice around the world, con- suming eight years’ time, and the sum of half a million of dollars in the attempt to find Clancy Adair. A spy of his, I presume, constantly shadowed me, either in person or by ielegvain —at least I never found my man. [ finished my last trip a pe ago, and since then have been scouring the West, thinking perhaps I might stumble over ny game, and f last, in an unexpected manner.” “So I should remark. Adair is a powerful man here in fc Shod, but I have an idea have, at that we can defeat his little game. I will now go to see another party from whom I expect to elicit more information.” ‘‘ Allright. I am very grateful for your ef- forts in my behalf, and shall take pleasure in rewarding you. If you see Miss Yates again, beg her to accept my respectful thanks.” fter a few more remarks, Phineas Porter took his leave. In age, be of the jail, he found that the keeper, McAdams, was slowly recovering, but was too stupid yet to know much of aby thins: Hurrying briskly along down the street, the detective made inquiries, as he went, after the bootblack whose appellation was Jimmy Flynn. As a result he presently found the youthful speculator in a gaming saloon, engaged in a social game of seven-up, with a boozy pilgrim from the epher districts, who, though boozy, knew as well how to get a trick as the next one. Porter beckoned to the young Trishman, and then went into a stalland sat down, Jimmy was soon at hand, with a look of surprise upon his face. ‘*Was it yer honer as was after wantin’ the likes of me?” he said, tipping his hat. ‘Yes; come in and be seated,” the detective replied. ‘‘I want to ask you a few questions.” ‘Thin go ahead, ef yez plaze, an’ it’s answerin’ ’em I'll be, to the best o’ my ability, bedad,” Jimmy re lied, with business-like precision, as he droped into a seat. : “‘Then listen,” Porter said, bending forward and lowering his tone, mysteriously, wherea Jimmy grew fidgety. ‘‘I know all, and it is no use for you to attempt to hide anything from me. You carried the paper to the invalid at the candy-shop, which caused her to meet the assas- sin, and consequently, you are liable to arrest for a part in the crime!” Jimmy trembled, but did not reply. Phineas Porter had only guessed at the truth’of his accu- sation, but had ern paring Berto or ‘Tell me—did you not carry the letter to the murdered girl?’ he demanded, sharply. ‘Faith, an’ I did, but I didn’t know as it would be after fotchin’ any harm.” ‘* Who gave you the letter?” “Faith, I don’t know, at all, at all, except that the note was signed ‘ Barry Meredith,’ ycr honer.” ‘“Ha! do you think you would know the man, if you were to see him again?’ " Shure, I’d niver fergit him.” ‘‘What else do you know about the murder, boy? the detective asked. ‘Shure, it’s a lot thet I know, whin I see’d on murder, meself, an’ see’d the murderer, 00!’ ‘‘ By heaven, is this true? Tell me, then—did Carroll Holly commit the crime?” ‘‘Howly Maria, no. He be as innocent as Mrs. Mcttillicuddy’s pig, bedad.' It was tha same omadhaun w’at did tha job, as hired me to take tha note to the girl.” ** Can you swear to this?” ‘Faith, an’ I can swear like the divil.” CoOITrr J00KS-cCOoM