Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 130 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

mt . cried Will Frazer. Detective Dick. 11 ‘*You see, I'm allers at home 'mong my friends,” he announsed. ‘Don’t ax me to take a cheer. That mought interfere with the freedom of the citi- zen, you know.”’ He helped himself to a chair with all the freedom possible as he spoke, ‘‘Go on with yop dockyments. Don’t mind me. My bizness kin wait, “T swear if I think you'll ever die of modesty,” “Out with your business, for we've no time for nonsense now,’ “ All right!” and Dick, unabashed, drew his chair up to the table, ‘Put your dockyments out of ai aurtty ht. My eyes gits y sometimes, and tumble into seeing things that's none of their affairs, Want you to lay out on another letter.” “Why, you are death on letters, Dick,” declared Jack Bounce, ‘ You do seem to keep up an exten- sive correspondence. What is it about now?”’ “* Know an body in Bosting? Any guv’nors, per- licemen, or sich?’ “Where?” asked Jack. “In Bosting. The place where all the smart peo- le cum from. That little down-ast villain that’s ke me, won't never die of modesty.” “Oh! Boston, you mean.” “And didn’t I say Bosting? Don't know as I of’en say what I don’t mean.” ‘I know some of the Bostonian officers,” admitted Frazer, ‘if that will satisf Ms oN “That's clever,” and Dick spread himself for a serious job of dictation. ‘‘Write to the smartest Yankee you know as follows:—I want him or her, whichsoever it is, to hunt up a fam'ly in Bosting, that calls itself Milton.” “Very well. What is the first name?” “Jist say Milton, and you'll say all I know. {Twenty years ago, or thereaway, this fam'ly dwelt somewhere in the outsquirts of Bosting, in an old- fashioned stone house. It had grounds around it, and all the houses in sight had grounds, They seemed somehow to run to grounds.’ “Allright. Goon.” “This fam'ly consisted of a handsome daddy and a beautiful mammy, and a neat little toad of a boy, jist turned of bein’ a baby. Well, the boy was stole, and has never been hearn tell of since, though they’ve wasted enough cash in advertisements to keep up a fust-class dry-goods store, and offered mints of money in rewards, and the daddy’s grown old and pegged out, and the ey growin’ old and peggin out. Got the idear of all that?” “Ts it a five-cent nevel you are composing now?” asked Jack Bounce, laughing at Dick's grandilo- quent manner. “True as gospel, every word I’ve spoke. There's money in it, an know where to lay my finger on the boy, that’s growed up to be a handsome young man, the picture of his daddy. And there’s chaps tryin’ to work a traverse, and play the lost son ea and throw him outin the cold. You see I’m posted. ‘** Your novel is making good headway, anyhow,” was Jack’s laughing comment. ““Never you mind. Put it all down, and guv me the letter to post. If your Yankee comes up to the scratch like a man, you kin bet there'll be fun,” Jack wrote the letter to Dick's satisfaction, ad- dressed it as directed by Frazer, and gave it to the boy to —. Is that correct?” he asked of the boy. “Right to the bull’s-eye. Must be goin’. Any news since I see’d you last?” “Only the arrest of Spencer, with a batch of a new issue of counterfeits in his house.”’ “Yes. That's the out-and-outerest sel. Know Harry Spencer a bit too well to swaller that. What's more, I’ve got a notion of the cove as put up the job on him. ere is he? In Moya?” “No. He is out on bail.” ** Clever!’ exclaimed Dick. ‘These chaps best be keerful they don’t wake up Dick Darling. If they go. pert be 'tarnal ructions. Anything from Sol ‘We have a deep shadow on him,” answered Jack. “Iam of the notion that that long nose of yours has smelt out something there. He has more customers than come to buy clothes.” ‘*I knowed it!” declared Dick, triumphantly. “Watch them. Watch them all. It’sa big rin weve CNT sarcumvent. Catch him shovin’ any o 6 queer?” “Yes. He tried to pass one of the new counter- feits. It came back to him, and he overflowed with apologies and explanations.” “* He should have been arrested," averred Will. “Not yet,” said Dick, tively. ‘‘I don't b'lieve in pullin’ up my fish with a hook and line, when there’s a chance to sweep them allin, at one haul, in a drag-net. y tillall the fish git in our pond. Then pull in your net.” ‘Good advice, Dick,’ and Jack slapped him heartily on the shoulder. “You are a born detec- tive, and shrewder than half the force. You say you Sas & job was put up on Spencer, and who “That’s what I think. "‘Tain’t what I know,” was Dick’s cautious reply. 7: Who is your man?” The chap you're watchin’ on South street; Mr. Solomon Sly. Mind, I don't knowthis. And I’d give a cold b’iled mack’rel to have it proved. But a fox that’s onc’t learnt the way to a chicken-coop is apt to sneak back ag’in."” * “And what follows?” “That Sol will have more bizness in Harry Spencer’s house. d soon, too, if I ain't off my ones. Watch him like a hawk, for sure as you live, ére’s folks pu up another job on Spencer.” * And if he should try it?” “Snatch him, jist as you’d snatch the last cold ‘tater on the plate. S’arch him, and salt down his valuables. Don't leave nothing cur’us "bout him,”’ ** And if he should have nothing?” ** Beg his pardon, and let him slide. He'll only be like a pigeon, with a string to his leg. He won't fly out of sight. I must be gettin’ now, gents. Fear my supper’ll git cold waitin’, and never could digest cold vittels.”’ And Dick walked out of the room with an air as if he carried a separate world on each shoulder. CHAPTER XIV. RECOLLECTIONS OF CHILDHOOD, Harry SPENCER walked along with his head down and a deeply troubled look ee his face. “It seems as if the sky had suddenly fallen out of my world. Everything was so bright and promising, and now misfortunes seem treading in each other's footsteps. If I could but lay my hand on this hidden and silent enemy who is working in the dark against me,”’ He walked on refiectively. The street was little frequented. Evening was coming on with a damp chill feelin the air. He drew his coat closer roun him, with a slight shudder. **T am free, but how shall I ever escape the conse- quences of the coming trial? Those counterfeit notes—it was shrewd work of my enemy. I can see but one way clear. IfIcan but discover who has an object in injuring me, I may put the officers on the track of the true counterfeiters.”’ The thought seemed to strike him as a good one. He considered it in all its bearings. “Was there any purpose in that qrange note from Chester to get me out of the way? How did that man learn what he professes to know of my early life? If this be the actof my enemy, he must have known me since childhood. tno. There is more in it than I suppose. I have hopes that the mystery of my life may be soon unfolded, and I gain once more the blessing of my parents’ love, which has been stolen from me since childhood.” He paused for a moment, looking vacantly along the street. “My enemy has worked in another direction,” he next mused. “ = amen has come between me and Helen. Nothing of her own will, I know, for her action on my arrest was a sweet assurance that I had indeed won her love. It may have been some influence brought to bear Spon her proud mother. If I could but meet Helen—if I could but learn—"’ re which he had been noting tance, now declared itself to “It is hel’’ he said. “The Chester man. This is an opportune meeting.” Joe Turner, for it was our red-haired acquain- tance, seemed to recognize Harry as quickly. “TI was wishing to see you again,” the fellow de- clared; “but have not had time to call at your ouse,”” “You b ht me very interesting information sir,’’ answe , “though rather vague and shadowy. I am anxious to learn more from you in relation to this matter,” “There are reasons why I should not tell you any more at present,”’ replied Turner. “I may be raising false hopes in your mind. I must first learn if the recollections you have given me agree with the facts; I have written to a legal friend in New Orleans to inquire, and if you can recall any other remembrances of your ancy, no matter how slight, they may be very important. What you have given me, so far, is too general.” “TI have been trying to recollect,” responded Harry. “I can only recall one or two slight points. Iremember a fall I had in childhood from the arms of the lady I mentioned, and her great trouble in consequence; I also recollect a toy of which I was very fond. It was a little box, with a black figure in it, which sprung up on touching a spring; I remem- ber that the figure had lost its nose. “These are important parti ” averred Tur- ner. “Any one might describe the house; but special incidents are not so easily arrived at. You have no other relic than the one mentioned?” “That is all.” “ Tshould like to see it.” “T have it in my private desk at home. If you should call, I will show it to you.” “Thank you; I shall do so very soon. I must be going now. Good-day,” and Turner walked on. Harry proceeded slowly in the opposite direction. ‘*T am too easy with him,” he mused. “I should make him tell what he knows. The world is so full of rogues that how do I know but that this is a scheme to get facts from me which he may use to his own ends?” He paused irresolutely, inclined to return after the man. “But he knows all, and I know nothing. He has the advantage of me in that; amd it is not so easy to force people, except it be to force them into being your foes. I shall have to wait and trust to his good intentions. And, oh! how my soul ones fo know if he has indeed found my ipa aaa if dark blot upon my life may indeed weptaway.”’ He paused, fora fi for some time in the his recollection. Ss Harry now turned upon the busy pavement of Eighth street, yet thronged with people, late as it was in the day. These, however, were mostly ple on their daily way home from employment, the army of shoppers having long since marched off with ite spoils. Yet some few stragglers remained. A handsome earriage was drawn up before the door ofa .goods establishment, its ebony-skinned c man evidently impatient of the long delay. He did not seem to approve of late shopping. Just as Harry reached this point, two ladies pets pe from the store door. They were about en- tering the carriage when the elder paused, and said: “TI think, afterall, Helen, I bad better have that lace. It will only take a minute or two. You need not come back; wait for me in the carriage.”’ pag ep seg uP her long train, the richly-attired lady swept back into the store, with all the grand manner of a queen of ROG The younger lady was about stepping into the carriage, when her purpose was arrested by a light ney upon her arm, and the tones of a well-known voice. **One moment, Helen—Miss Andrews.” She turned, with a slight start on seeing that it was indeed Harry Spencer, he who had been some- how that moment in her thoughts, ‘My mother will be back immediately, Mr. Spen- cer,’’ she said, in a warning voice. “Yes, yes, I know; I have but a word. There has something come between us—the work of an enemy, I fear.” *‘ The work of an enemy,” she faintly replied. “Can "te tell me his name—and his object?” was his quick rejoinder. “Not now—not now!” she answered. “I may—at some future time—when I am —when I feel at liberty to ¥ de “It is yt A portant that I should know now,” he replied. “ y arrest may have been the work of the same enemy,” “IT will write—when I learn anything,” she re- sponded, in the same hurried, broken tone “ Stay no longer, sir. My mother will be here.” “One word more,” he persisted, arresting her movement toward the carriage, “Some unknown friend saved me from the horrors of a prison. Do you know whom?” He looked eagerly into her eyes. She turned her head away, answering in con- strained accents: ‘*How should Iknow? It matters not. There is no virtue in assisting people where one risks nothing. Good-by, Mr. Spencer.” She ne him her hand, and one long look from her soft eyes. <A liquid luster swam in those deep orbs. She seemed loth to turn them away, ‘**Good-by, Helen,” he said, with more tenderness in his lingering intonation than he dreamed of, He assisted her into the carriage and walked on, just an instant before her mother stepped, in all her stateliness, from the store. Mrs. Andrews leaned indolently back upon the richly-upholstered cushions, as the carriage rolled away, " Pha not take the lace, after all,” she remarked; “it was not as fine as I thought. ‘By the way, did I not wo be young gentleman assisting you into the e ” bar lightly changin l “Yes,” slig c g color. “Who was ity “‘Mr. Spencer,” was the quiet reply. A look of dismay came upon the mother’s face; she used her fan rapidly, but said nothing, and did not again speak during the ride home. “There is a gentleman in the parlor,” announced the girl, on their ente the house. “ Ah, who is it?” asked Mrs, Andrews. “Tt is iy O28 Epoke a voice from the open parlor oon and . Williamson stepped out into the vas ha to see you,” declared the lady. ‘We have gf 5 Aled rom a shopping axroditinn. Helen, entertain Mr. Williamson for a few minutes, until 1 remove m wraps.”’ Helen entered the pores: with a Ma Lr oma look upon her face, She knew well what her moth- er meant by the few minutes, and dreaded an inter- view with this man. She seated herself without re- moving her shaw] and hat. “I have not seen you, Helen,” he said, taking a chair near her, ‘‘ since your abrupt dismissal of me a week or 80 a Ido not know yet what I did on that occasion to offend you.” “I did not give you understand that I was of- fended.” “Yes; I took your action to mean that.” “I was offended,’ she coldly replied. wey why? What had I done!—what had I “I do not see that any explanations are geamageal 6 I am very weary, Mr. Williamson; I hope you will not an on this undesirable Sip lately P tees: “You grow weary very easily lately—of my s ety,” he replied, with a sudden burst of anger. “Once you were more com t. Lhave a right to demand the reason of this change,” “When a professed gentleman descends to the en- vious detraction of another, he has no reason to ask 6 cr why he has made his motives and him- despised.”” Her tone was hot as his. ‘ You volunteered uncalled-for gossip about Mr. Spencer, with the object of injuring him in my estimation, You have but injured yourself.” “T said only the tru He is a—” “It matters not what he is,’ she coldly inter- rupted. ‘I dosot think the tone of this interview is sufficiently pleasant for either of us to wish to continue it. shall my mother down to you, Mr. Williamson. She left the room with a deeply-offended air; leav- ing him gnawing his lip in anger. He sat a moment irresolutely; then suddenly started up, seized his hat, and left the house. “*T shall be even with you yet, my lady!” he mut- tered, bitterly, as he descended the steps with a flerce tread. CHAPTER XV. DIOK FEELING HIS LINES, Dick’s watchfulness had redoubled after the re- tion by Mr. Williamson of the express-package. There was not a person who entered or leii the CONNIE OOO KS (EC)