Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 145 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

———$ + et ee ne -———Ci e+ oo -—e - a es -_— o—— — whose looks improve with close scrutiny; and Madam Fayette, with ler five-and-forty years, looked scarcely more than two-and-twenty, so lightly had the withering hand of time dealt with her. She was pretty and affable, well-educated and polished; and had that fascinating presence which invariably wins instant respect and ad- miration. She had hosts of friends and admirers, chiefly ameng the male sex; for though nothing bad had ever been Pat tab of the madam, and she always conducted herself with proper decorum, the average feminine gender fought shy of her intimate acquaintance, albeit they gave her a rushing perounge in the line of millinery, for the madam’s stock and styles were always large and new, and her goods reliable. She was now richly attired, and wore costly jewelry after a modest style, and made a very pretty picture as her jeweled fingers rippled over the ivory piano-keys. At last she seemed to tire of the flow of weird music, and whirled about on her stool, to dis- cover a man seated comfortably in a luxurious tounging-chair, near by, engaged in lighting a cigar—and the man Michael Angelo Mitchell, at- sired in dressing-gown and slippers. He had evidently just entered, for he looked up with a nod, as he finished lighting his Ha- vana “Su per was not quite ready,’ he observed and r took the liberty to intrude. You nee not i paying.” ‘‘ But, I will,” Madam Fayette said, with a smile. “Iam weary of music and everything else, nearly. I pine for excitement. What’s to be done to-night?’ “I don’t know. Has not Sir Filbert. been around, to-day?” ‘‘No. Neither has Latch nor McFadden. The Albatross is scudding low, ready to be un- loaded.” ‘“‘ Have you received a permit from the Board of Health to bring the coifin into the city?” “Yes. That’s all that is required, I have made arrangements with the keeper of Wood- land Cemetery, to have the body taken from the boat which will run up the Schuylkill tothe rear side of the cemetery, and conveyed by the rear way, to my vault, It is doubtless safely locked ~~ in the vault, now.” And the madam chuckled strangely as she finished, “it’s a clever plan. How many ‘bodies’ are asked, draw- there now in the tomb?” Mitche ing slowly at his cigar, ‘ Sixteen—total value about forty thousand dollars.” ‘*Humph! it’s worked all ri:ht so far, but we'll have to drop it, directly, or suspicion will be aroused. That you should bring sixteen of your dead relatives across the Atlantic, just be- Cause of your whim to have them deposited in er private vault, here, does look a little queer say the least.” And the superintendent of the calico mills, laughed rather uneasily. ‘f am afraid we'll get ourselves in trouble, yet ” | hope not,” Madam Fayette said, thought- fully. ‘As yousay, we must drop that game, and go back to my old one. Have you perfect Condition in Sir Filbert Frothingham?”’ “Oh! yes. I trust him, implicitly. Has he : aityr with us long enough to prove his oy ‘‘Perhaps, I simply asked, to draw forth your opinions I always dread traitors next to “True. But I hes our flock are all reliable. There’s one rascal in the city, however, whom I am afraid of. He is called Boss Bob, and is a bootblack. He has a half-witted companion whom they call the Nondescript, and the two are nosing into everybody’s busiuess that comes under their observation. The boy, Boss Bob, is as keen as a razor, and I believe he has the power of reading a person and their secrets, at & glance. He appears to be familiar with my name, and I only fear that he may have spotted me and is secretly keeping watch of my move- ments, | ‘“‘I hope not,” Madam Fayette responded. ‘For an outsider to get an insight, into our secrets would prove disastrous in the extreme.” Throngs of people were wending Centennial- ward—some afoot, many on the loaded down street cars, and not;acfew in cabs or elegant barouches, A. vast. concourse of many nations —ib was but a common daily:scene, as theterm of the Centennial began to narrow down, ‘Hurry, Nondescript; don’t be laggin’ ahind, a-castin’ Chinerman’s eyes at every purty val . LLL LLLBL LLL LLL LL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LL LLL LLL LL LLL LL LL tL Le tttmmt tt Captain | yer see,” cried Boss Bob, as he and his strange a Ferret, the New York ————e — > + companion wended their way along through | the crowd, ‘‘Gals ar’ all very g in their sphere, but bizness an’ gals don’t run on ther same hoss-car line. Labor is capertal, an’ caper- tal is wittles, an’ ther average chap wi’out wit- tles ain’t no chap at all. Ef we want capertal, labor’s got ter cum fust. So ‘Black yer boots, make ’m shine, Only costs ye half er dime; Make yer quaits, sir, all at rest bh. a daub o’ Bixby’s a re yer corns an’ parding yer sins, Add a luster to yer shins; . Open yer eyes—lighten yer purse, So jest a half er dime disburse. **Shine ’m, mister. Jest let me tackle them nboats o’ yourn. Make ’m luk like a pair 0’ ig reflectors quicker’n a sassenger can bark, an’ ali ’t ’ll cost ye is ther simple insigniferkent sum o’ five cents—half a dime—twentieth part o’ a dollar.” But, too intent were the visitors, on reaching the scene of the monster Exposition, to pause: consequently neither Boss Bob nor the Nonde- script picked up any jobs, until they arrived in the immediate vicinity of the Centennial in- closure, when they had all the work they could attend to. ut A thin, short, wiry, little man, with a black mustache, and eyes of the same color, small and bead-like, and hair long and straight as an Indian’s, stood near the entrance to the Board of Finance building, smoking a fragrant cigar, and watching those who entered the yrounds; and then, he also kept an eye cn Boss Bob, who was doing a lively polishing trade, his tongue playing with equal rapidity with his brush. No matter who was his customer, he always man and find out who the party was. His present patron wasa tall, stylishly-attired fellow, with a dainty mustache, and effeminate appearance, but not unhandsome. 6 wore a suit of gray woolen goods, with a shining silk hat upon his head, and also boasted of quite a me gw of I weer ry though he did, Bob was unsuccessful in getting up much talk with this sisted in maintaining silence, and kept his gaze roving around him, in a nervous manner. Once or twice his eyes rested upon the little man with the black, brigandish mustache, but it was in- variably when that individual was looking in another direction. ‘* Needn’t talk ef ye don’t wanter talk,” Boss Bob rattled on. ‘ Weuldn’t make er Jersey clam talk, ef he didn’t wanter. ‘Spect ye feel ‘way up,’ an’ calculate we o’ ther radiatin’ per- feshion ain’t prime, but we doan’t keer. e ‘blacks’ consider oursel’s as fur above ye ordi- nary soft-shelled eyster-eaters asa w -ratdo above a common mice. ’Spect collatteral is ‘high-low,’ tho’, an’ he w’ot’s got lots uv et, is trump. n sum goslin’s, however, w’ot didn’t hev ernuff filchy lucrative ter buy ther shadder of er penny bologner. Guess so. Knew’d sech chaps. Sum fellers rise up in ther world jest like concentrated yeast; an’ then ther’s anuther class w’ot booms along up at er moderit _ an’ finally gits ter be Presydent, er Cuuef Dog- Ketcher. taclam you're one o’ ther former class—sprung up like a musheroon, leavin’ tail- ers’ bills, an’ hash billy-dues unpaid.” The fop had received the boy’s harangue with a darke face, and now jerked his half-pol- ished boot trom the box, angrily. ‘* You insolent young rascal!” he eried, rais- ing his heavy walking-cane atrnee ee “do you know whom you are addressing, sir ‘** No, an’ don’t care, neither,” was the inde- ndent reply. ‘‘Thisisa free American Hail lambjy sweitzer case, ‘Spect you call yerself Sir Fil- bert Franklyn Frothingham, but I'l bet a clam thet’s only game—cl’ar ‘froth, ye see, like cums on top o’ lager beer. Goin’ ter let me finish frescoin’ yer gunboat?” ‘No, you saucy young whelp. Ill not pay ouacent or let you touch my boots again, ou are entirely too forward for a boy of your age. | ‘* Dunno’bout that,” Bob'observed, coolly,as he seated himself complacentiy upon his upturned box, while another urchin ran up to finish the job: “Guess I'll keep wi’out sp’ilin’; enmyhow. As fer ther job; ther loss. 0’ a niekel ain goin’ ter | periy: He per: bankrupitire me; hossy... Got lots o’ tin in m breeches . pocket, w’at Pye niade: this mornin’. Dursent. bet wich hes Know’d you hedn’t ernu Detective. | ed to drum up a ti le country, an’ chin’s as free as 6 ers? Know uv four dead cats down my way, w’ot kin be bought cheap—one Thomas cat, an two feminines, an’ a spitz terrier!” Sir Filbert Frothingham uttered a fierce curse, and glared at Boss Bob sharply; then abruptly turned and strode away through the dense crowd, followed by a mocking laugh from the Bootblack King, and a wry look from the urchin who had essayed to finish the polishing job where Boss Bob had left off. ‘**Ha! ha! sling a hint at er clam, an’ he’fl allus close his shell,” the king laughed, his face distorted with a grin of delight. ‘‘ Bet a shuck eyster thet sport feels narvous, like. fay, cully, didn’t get yer pay, did yer?’ ** No,” the boy replied, dole wh ‘““Know’d ye would. Lots o’ ther perfeshien got fooled on jest sech chaps as him. ‘Spect he’ll wanter put a lammerkin over my eye, next time we meet.” And with a chuckle the gamin picked up his box and moved off. As he came opposite the little individual with the black hair and bead-like eyes, he paused and stared at him, thoughtfully, and the little indf- vidual returned the scrutiny with interest. ***Spect mebbe you see some green in my eye. eh?’ the gamin finally demanded, tauntingly. ‘* No, I see steel there,” the little man replied, ‘fand that fact causes me to wish to know you. ‘Well, I’m open fer dates—allus ready ter scrape acquaintunce, ef et’s elergible. M ¥, COE. nomen is Boss Bob, fer short—Bobby Burne Beecher Maloney, fer long. What’s your es crutchun?”’ The little man smiled. ‘“‘T have heard of you,” he said. “Iam Tony Fox, the ferret. In the profession I am known as Captain Ferret!” And the detective advanc- ed and extended his hand. CHAPTER IV. TONY FOX, OF NEW YORK. ‘““Know’d you was a hull hoss,” Boss Bob de- clared, shaking hands with the little man. ‘*Know’d you waren’t no Jarsey man, ner a feller o’ Bosting culchaw. ‘’Spect by ther cut o’ er jibboom thet ye hail from the port o’ New ork? ‘** And hit it, exactly,” Ferret sc with anod. “You are quick of perception, I per- ceive, which is good. I am in need of just such a young man as you—want sort of a pardner, ou see. Got a few points about you from the ief of Police, here, and came up here to see if I could pick you out.” “Reckon thet weren’t no hard job,” Bob re- plied. “I’m kinder of landmark, heerabouts, an’ some 0’ ther boys say I war ther fust chap w’ot s ed ther plan o’ gittin’ up this Cen- tennyal. Dunno ’bout that, myself, tho’. *Spect your trackin’ some game, eh? ‘Well, ves, and again no, I learned that there were some New York rogues opera down here, and thought I’d come over and loo ’em up, on account of old scores.” ‘“‘Bully. You'll find ’em thicker’n lice on er yeller dorg. Shine’em, fer ye?” And, ever with an eye to business, Bob di rected an inquisitive glance at the boots of the Aa York detective, which were covered with st —_- ust. ‘*T don’t know but you may,” he said, putting forward a smal) foot. “I generally de my own polishing, but since we’re to double up, Pil let out the job to you.” : ‘“Hedn’t ye allus better ketch yer chickens afore ye peel’em?’ Bob quizzed, with ea grim. “When I uster snare eats on top o’ ther roils fer Schneider, ther sassage-tmaker, I never mmde a habit o’ puttin’ enny dependence on Thomas till 1 got him.” ; ““Oh!” Ferret laughed. ‘‘ Well, I’m pretty sure of ycu, because I know you're always rearw to venture into business that has the promise of adventure and reward.” ‘Ye can bet a hull cup o’ soft shell clams on that wate whe A Ef there’s any prospect o° Bufflér Bill blood an’ thunder excite ment, wi’ solid ‘mighty dollers,’ an’ collatteral' security ter back it, connt Goin’ ter give me the twig?” ‘Yes, but not here. Couie alone inte the Centennial, and we'll see the sights, and talk, ae we see ’em.” a ‘“What—me go inter ther great show, in my” perfeshional attire!” Boss Bob ejaculated, Gm ‘surprise. ‘* No, sir-ee! S’pose I'd sail ‘in’ thar | ‘in these rough fogs? Guess not. Got ter murh got ther biggest ‘pile. respe ter buy a penny-grab, | ther memory o’ ther big guns, like Washingtae, Glory Hailemjer American’ Eafle respect fer Ruther lose hold on five cents, enny time, then | Lincoln, Chris Kerlumbust. an’ sech like, tra Goshhorn, Hawley an’ Stokely an’ Hortranit “> ter lose ther satisfaction o’ takin’ a feller’s foter- graff. I say, frothy, how’s ther trade in cadav- | | Say nothin’ erbout sech nuts as ’Lys COUMINC me in, every time. (E@)