Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 145 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

B Captain Ferret, the New York Dete —————————— eee Captain Ferret, THE NEW YORK DETECTIVE; OR, BOSS BOB’S BOSS JOB. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF “DEADWOOD DICK,” ‘‘ ROSEBUD ROB,” ‘‘ GILT-EDGED DICK,” ‘‘ BONANZA BILL,” ETC., ETC. PROLOGUE. Bcuanm—The death-bed of a a, cheerless, poorly-f ment house. DRAMATIS PERSONA—The pale wreck of a once retty woman, upon the pillows; « grave-look- g physician ding near; a middle-aged Frenchwoman standing by the bedside, hold- ing in her arms a’six-months-old babe. “Belice,” spoke the dying mother, then she sunk back wearily, her attempt to herself prot futile.” © nchwoman knelt by the bedside, and Jeaned nearer to her. “Yes, ma’m’selle,” she said, in an anxious vung mother, in room of a tene- voice, “Felice, I am going," the other whispered, faintly. “T cannot te you all I would like to, = ou kn6wW all that is necessary. You have .@ directions where to take my child, You will do it, Felice—you will do as I have directed out us Yes, ma’m’selle.” “God bless you for those words,” the dying woman gasped, her face lighting up with the joyous gratitude she felt. ‘'L know you will, or you have been true and faithful to me—the only true and faithful friend I have known for many months. Have you seen Frank to-day, Police?” ; “Yes, ma’m’selle, He was hanging about the saloon, on the next corner, very, very drunk. He did not recognize me as d him by.” A pained expression flitted into the dying wo- man’s face. : ‘May God forgive him, as I already have,” she murmured. “I always believed he would have been a different man, but for liquor, Felice, Ab!—a—ah! it iscoming. The baby, Felice!” The Fronchwoman held the baby forward, and the poor mother kissed it, passionately, o’er : and o’er again, tears streaming over her Iaen. Then a radiant light dawned into. her pale, inched face, and she sunk back upon the pil- ows, the last tide of life ebbin cefully out. The physician, a grave man of the world, came forward, and upon her pityingly, at the game time feeling her pulse which throbbed no more. “Jt is all over,” he said. “ The strange tena- city with which she clung to life, considering the complicated disease, was something remarkable. Do you take charge of the remains?” Frenchwoman shook her head, with a half-shudder. “No, monsieur, Ihave no money—no friends, You will have to take charge.” “Very well. Iwill see that she has a clean spot in Woodland,” the aan ae said. ‘If you ure through, you will The woman nodded; her willingness to be ex- cused was apparent. She Senifiled the child up in an old shawl, and adorned herself with a waterproof cloak and hat, and left the room, h a hallway she went, blindly, for it was pitch dark, and down a pair of creaking stairs into a sort of lower vestibule. Here she he dim outlines of a man’s form blocked her peares, and something glistening, held near her ace, caused her to shudder. “Is it you, Felice?’ a low, hoarse voice said. | Centenyal, an’ I'll bet. a clam I raise sum sort “Yes, it’s me,” the Frenchwoman replied, evidently recognizing him. ‘‘ What do you want?” “JT want to know about Adele. How is she getting along?’ ‘‘ She is dead, monsieur.” “ Ah! then I am free;” and something like a chuckle seemed to Map, ‘te the man. ‘ What huve you in yon wir elice?” “The child—poor thing.” _ “Bah! what are you going to do with it, now?” “Take it where I was directed to.” “ Where was that, Felice?” __ “ None of your business,monsieur. I was not ” “Humph! there’s no use of asking you, I sup- , then. Drown the brat in the Delaware elice. It were better dead than alive, and motherless upon the — uncharitable world. And then, Pl] make it worth your while.” “In what way, monsieur?”’ ‘Tn cash—half of what I get for the body— over a hundred.” “‘The body?’ the Frenchwoman gasped in nei Yes, Pm going to sell the bod tairs es. I’m goin se e y ups to the students. ft is worth something an’ | may as well get something for it as to let the | worms dissect it. Felice shuddered again; the man’s heartless- ness shocked ber, ‘You are ze t villain, monsieur,” she hissed, suddenly ing closer to him, ‘‘ but [ will do as you say, if you will promise me that you will give me the hundred dollars.” ‘*T promise that,” was the grim reply. “eT want the child safe out of the way. D’ye hear —there must be no half-way business about it.” The Frenchwoman’s eyes glittered, and she squeezed the little innocent in her arms, until it screamed with pain. | ‘“‘T understand, monsieur,” she replied. “ The child shall never live to see you again.” Then, she pushed past him, and descended in- to the dark, narrow, ill-smelling street, into which the rain fell in asteady, monotonous driz- zie, accompanied by a murkiness that made breathing aifficult. CHAPTER L BOSS BOB STRIKES A TRAIL AND CAPTURES A ‘* RESPONSIBILITY.” “Dunno w’otrain was ever made fer ’cept et was ter make mud fer us o’ ther legitermate perfesh ter clean off. But w’en a feller’s bin sleepin’ on ther soft side o’ a doorstep fer a bull week o' nights, an’ et’s rained nigh ev’ry night, it’s gittin’ too thin. Wonder ef eny one’s stir- rin’, w’ot’s got a nickel they want ter squander on a shine?’ It was several hours before daylight one driz- zling Centennial morning, and Philadelphia lay in repose—the only rest it knew being in the darkest hour before the dawn, that year of 76. The speaker, a ragged, dirty, saucy-looking specimen of the bootblack fraternity, bad risen from a place of ensconcement in one of the broad doorways upon South street, and was surveying the moist, dreary aspect, critically, while he fished a half-smoked cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “Tharll be a big run o’ biz, ter-day, u around ther Centenyal agency,” he muttered. ‘* Folks w’ot’s got a = oy poke, enthusi- asm in their compersition w’u’d rather go wi’out their dinner than tread ther memorial aisles wi’ muddy feet. Pity every one ain’t a patriot- feeler. W’ota bonanza we o’ ther purfeshun would have, then! It w’u’d be better ’n eatin’ eyesters,” Ceaselessly, monotonously did the rain drizzle down, and seeing no hes kee of its stopping immediately the young Bootblack King squat contentedly upon his upturned box, and puffed ert 4 at the end of his cigarette. ‘“Spect how’s I ain’t agoin’ ter accept sech lodgings as these, much longer,” he soliloquized, gazing up and down the dusky street, and the owning buildings on either side of it. “I aspire ter a first-class mansion, I do, wi’ brass knocker on ther door, an’ a peanner in ther parlor. Ther collatteral is w’ot’s lackin’, how- sumever, an’ w’en a feller wantsit, he ain’t got it. Blame me fer a fool, ef I ever put a foot within the Malone = ag’in. Coaxin’ got me thar, tilt they got all my filthy lucre corraled, an’ then the ental Maloney sed, ‘““D’ye be afther bouncin’, yeownmannerly om- adhaun.’ An’ I bounced, minus my dudads. But, pshaw! there’s no use ter mourn over mice. Ef Boss Bob hain’t got no swag, he’s still got his repurtashun, which ain’t small. Et’s severil months yit, till ther end uv ther 0’ a boom yit, as will fetch me up er peg in ther world. i’ w’at pints I know, an’ ther p’ints I intend ter know, I ain’t goiu’ ter stop much short o’ bein’ Mayor, or Chief o’ Perlice, you bet onit. Hello! who’s up?” The unmistakable click! click! of ironed boot- heels upon the brick pavement announced the fact that some person was approaching, and Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks, peered from his impromptu lodgings, with aroused curiosity. ‘Guess somebody’s tuk sick,” he muttered, contemplatively, as he discovered a dusky figure coming down the street through the grayish gloom, ‘an’ a doctor’s what's wanted. ould- n’t be sick fer a dollar, ’ca’se these ’ere medical chaps hain’t got no respect fer a feller arter he’s ee eee ee — ee ctive. chucked under. They’ll go dig him up, an’ analyze his system at sum college or other, an’ set his skelerton up on wires wees at science. Humph! et’s a woman, too. et luks suspi- cious, swaller me fer a Jersey clam ef it don’t. Reckon somethin’s up.” And with this conclusion, he drew carefully back out of sight. The woman was approaching swiftly, her plated heels beating a musical tattoo upon the sidewalk. She carried a chawEwrabaed bundle in her arms, and her own form was enveloped in a waterproof, and her face vailed. She the doorway where Boss Bob was ee ng, and hurried on without discovering . | After she had , the Bootblack King’ gazed after her, scratching his ‘‘ peeled” cra- nium with fingers that were not remarkable for their tra nt whiteness. ‘‘T’ll bet high there’s somethin’ wrong about that craft,” he mused; ‘she’s got sumthin’ wrapped up in thet shawl, w’at she’s took ther cover o’ darkness ter smuggle away. ’Spect et’s my duty .ter mopeiong in the rear, and make observations. Ef Nondescript was heer I’d send him, an’ stay in ther dry. Water allus did go ag’in’ my grain;—'spect it’s ‘cause it takes ther bloom outer my Gheeks. But Nondescript ain’t present, so I reckon I’m elected ter play tag.” He slung his blacking kit to his back, and leaving the doorway, stole» cautiously along after the woman. His feet being e, he was able to follow, without awaking a sound audible to the party he was pursuing. ‘‘Thet’s whar nature beats invention all holler,” he chuckled, as he gazed at bis mudd al extremities. ‘* Ther en w’ot invente ts thought he’d done it up brown, an’ boots ain’t a bad thing in winter, thet’s a fact; but they ain’t no good ef ye’re goin’ on a reglar Buffalo Bill war-path. "Sides, they keep ther understandin’ frum developin’ ter et’s proper dermenshuns. Bet thet female is headin’ fer ther Delaware. Wonder ef she’s goin’ ter hook eysters?”’ Whatever was the woman’s errand, she walk- ed on rapidly, and Boss Bob had a moderate-sized job to keep her in sight. At this darkest hour before dawn, the police- men were non est, Although paid to patrol the streets, they invariably hied themselves to some convenient doorway, and invested an hour or twoin the delights of Morpheus’s realms, and consequently not a “‘cop” did appear to chal- lenge the woman and her youthful pursuer, Presently the street grew descending, and the sullen, muddy waters of the river Delaware loomed into view, in the foreground, with their complement of wharves, shipping and ware- houses. Turning into Delaware avenue, the woman walked southward along the wharves, until she came toa pier where a large number of skiffs and row-boats were moored. Here she paused, and glanced nervously around her. Boss Bob dodged into a shadow just in time to escape observation, not more than a dozen yards from where she had paused. ‘‘ Bet she’s got a infant,” he mused, as he saw her deposit the bundle in the bottom of a boat. ‘‘ Mebbe she’s goin’ ter set it adrift, too. Hum! ho! et won’t be ther furst sech case I’ve heard en. Gals will git married, an’ then ef they don't find life a = yy? necter and luv amung i down-in-ther-mouth, an the roses, they’ll gi git rid of ther ’sponsibilities. Bet a shuck eyster ther young kid’s bound for Davy Jones’s © locker, ef I don’t put in er protest.” It was apparent that the woman intended to set the bundle afloat upon the Delaware, in the boat, as the Bootblack King had surmised, for she untied it from its fastenings, and with a pike-pole, pushed it swiftly out into the stream. The receding tide carried it further and fur- ther into the stream, until it was nearly lost from view—then the woman turned and fled up a narrow street, as if all the fiends incarnate: were at her hecls. Boss Bob watched her flight, a rather doubt- ful expression upon his face. f ‘Dunno ef I better give chase, or rescue ther infunt.” he muttered. ‘‘Reckon et’d be_ best ter git ther kid, an’ let ther other slide. She don’t keer fer ther infunt, an’ mebbe ther in- funt is lucky ter git rid o’ her. Infunts ain’t in my line o’ biz, but 1 allow I'd better take er hand in this little game.” Unfastening another of the boats, he hastily sprung in, and pulled rapidly out into the rg atotng Sect wary whence be had last seem the dr , but m owan for the set of the current, —s ot ”~ 0 oye) “S =~ comic (EC)