Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 187 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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Fre ———————————————— === __—_— CHAPTER XV. MR. DARLINGTON’S VISITOR, Tre storm which had produced such a sensation in Beach City might have occurred a month ago, for any evidence which the ocean retained of its late turmoil, It had now all the mildness and sunny et of the summer sea of the poets, and only for he battered remnants of the good barque, which had gone down in the waters, no trace of the hurri- cane would have existed. lart of this unlucky vessel lay half buried in the sands of the bar, its deck at such an angle as to af- ford very insecure footing to the daring bathers \. » ventured out toit. The other half of the wreck had been rent to fragments, some of which came ashore with every tide. Portions of her cargo also vame in, and inade busy work for the inhabi:ants of the place. It was mostly, however, spoiled by its nn in the sea, being composed of perishable goods ‘ihe summer visitors were flitting about in their ordinary butterfly fashion, as if they supposed that life was alla summer, and had forgotten the lesson just taught them by the sea. Minds of deeper thought, indeed, could not look upon the resting ocean without a sense of awe, such as one must feel in viewing the face of a sleeping giant. But to the light-minded the storm was but a lively memory— something to brag of to their friends, but not to be chastened, awed and subdued by. Rose Darlington was one of those towhom the lesson had come with an awe-inspiring eifect. She looked now upon the ocean with a half-dread, as if it Was never more to be trusted in her mind, Will Howard laughed at what he called her senti- ment. “It is only a lazy lubber after all,”’ he said, lightly. “Tt gets up a row, now and then, and tries to scare us out of our wits. But aman has only got to face it, and—”’ he finished his sentence with a disdainful twirl of his hand. “Now, Will, you must not talk so,’’ she replied, in n tone of displeasure, “I hoped that your experi- ence would have a different effect on you from that, pete one be so near death’s door, and treat it so ightlyy?’ “We can only go through once, Rose,’’ he return- ed, indifferently, ‘I don’t see why a fellow should yet ina stew aboutit, That won't stave it off.” * Andis there nothing awful to you in the thought and the approach of the hereafter? I have been too near the dread gates myself lately to appreciate that rane spirit.” ‘Why, yes, you had a narrow pull for it, that’s a fact,’’ he replied, ina tone very aggravating to her. **In which you displayed your couragé and philoso- phy by swimming ashore, and leaving me to take care of myself.”’ She ape e angrily, as if vexed by his indifference. * By Jove, Rose, ld saved youif I could. ButasI couldn't I didn’t see a speck of use in drowning my- self just to show off. 1 don’t see that you would have BaP any better off by my making a corpse of mivself,”’ . _ Rose made no repry. She would not trust herself tospeak. She could not forget that it was his rash- ness that had brought her into the danger in which he had deserted her, He, too, was silent, They walked moodily down the sands for some distance. Neither seemed in- clined to break the silence. **T don’t see,”” he at length remarked, ‘*what you mean by treating me asifI wasagreat baby. You have been ony far fast and loose with me for a year now, you know you have. Iam sure we are both old enough tomarry. Your father is perfectly will- ngs I cannot see why you should keep putting it “You are not giving me reason to be in any great haste,’’ was her answer, accompanied by an involun- tary curlof her lip. ‘You act so differently now, Wil, from what you did when we were first en- ed.” wey feel just the same, Rose. But a fellow gets tired of spooning about a girl, you know.” * You shall have no occasion to spoon about me ~ longer,’ she exclaimed, now thoroughly angry. he turned and walked away from him. ‘**T know how it is,” he scornfully called out, ‘It’s that lout of a Jerseyman you are getting soft on, just because he swam ashore with you.” ‘*Whom do you mean?”’ she quickly asked. ‘T mean that Halyard boy—a chap that I have not quite settled with yet.” ‘*T would advise you not to try to settle with him,” she answered, her face full of scorn. ‘“*There may be some more life-boat service.” She hastened on, as if not deigning further words with him. ‘ : ‘So, the hound has been telling her that!” said Will, with an ejaculation that was almost an oath. “That’s twolowe him. We will seeif I don’t get even with him.,”’ Rose walked gate Seg angry and half amused. 4 “The idea of his being jealous of Fred Halyard, she said to herself. ‘TIlike him, to be sure. ButI am hardly in love yet with a boy, and an old sailor’s roté . ; ke Fred. But Will is getting really un- arable.”’ She continued her walk with a new thought in her head, at which she could not but laugh. e idea of her being smitten with Fred Halyard! At about the same hour in which this scene oc- — =| CO curred, Mr. Darlington was entertaining a visitor in | his room at the Mansion House, It was the elder passenger of the Triton, the man whose escape from the ocean had seemed to him an apparition from the | ve. nce did Mr. Darlington seem much more easy in his presence now than previously. He stood by the ' ' | | ee window, drumming impatiently with his fingers, his face turned toward his visitor with an uncomforta- ble expectancy. The latter, on the contrary, appeared entirely at his ease. Seated in Mr. Darlington’s rocking-chair, he was rocking himself, luxuriously, his thumbs in his vest-pockets, while his unpleasantly pale face wore what he probably intended for a smile, though it was, to a considerable extent, a failure, **So,”’ said Mr. Darlington, with a gesture of dis- gust. ‘You have concluded to take off the mask you have been wearing these few days past? It was too transparent, indeed, to make it worth while to wear it,”’ **Did you see through me s0 easy as that?’ asked the visitor, with a shriil laugh. “I thought I was deep; but I must have been very shallow.’ ** Yes, very,’’ was the reply. “Tknew you. Ofcourse] did, But I did not wish to trouble you to recall my face to your memory until I had made a few inquiries. There was no use to a for an inte. view until I had my business laid out.”’ “Until you had figured out the amount of black- yr that would buy you off,” observed Mr, Dar- ngton. **I don’t 1sike that word,”’ replied the visitor. ‘*Black-mail savors of soiled hands. I have always 5 mine moderately clean.”’ é held up his hands, and contemplated them with a show of great satisfaction. **How much is your price?” asked Mr, Darling- ton, impatiently. ‘Business is business, of course,”’ answered the visitor, ‘* You always were prompt on the nail.” “*“And you always ashamed to look your rascality in the face, Amos Yarnal], But, I want your an- swer. I wish to gauge your expectations.’ - Precisely,” drawled Yarnall, with an insolent in- tonation, ‘Well, then, Mr. Darlington, as I learn that you are worth half a million—” “Itis no matter what I am worth,’ was the an interruption. ‘I wish to find out now at what price you value your honesty.” **T think at about five hundred thousand dollars,” This answer was given with a cool insolence, and a look of fixed determination, that still further en- raged Mr. Darlington.” Our interview had better close,” said the latter quick] advancing to the door, which he pee open, “T will bid you Sood day Mr. Yarnall, I will bring ou round that half-million when I am ready to Laud it over. Meanwhile let me advise you that this locality is unhealthy for persons of your com- plexion.”’ . “Tf you really think so I will go,” rejoined Mr, Yaruall, rising from hisrocking-chair. ‘‘And I hope you will not be very long about it, Mr. Darlington, I should not care to be ob ied to hurry you,” ‘Wait patiently until 1 come," retorted Mr. Dar- lington, with a smile of scorn. He was evidently aiinking that Mr. Yarnall would have a good long wait. **Oh! by the way,’’ remarked the latter, from the bean ee outside the door. ‘I forgot to mention hat my son Frank is with me. You may have no- ticed him.” ‘“*Tsaw a young man who has something of your rascally expression,’’ replied Mr. Darlington. ‘Ah! Lam glad you noticed that,” as if he had received a high compliment. ‘‘ There is no doubt of his identity.”’ ‘*But what is that to me?” “T simply thought that you might possibly be in- terested init. But perhaps you have forgotten the words of old Bruce’s will?” ** What do you mean, sir?” ‘*T have no objection to refresh your memory. His estate, you may recollect, was to go to the near- est heir in the second generation, Sema, such an heir it descended to the first generation. It was un- der that clause that you inherited.”’ **Tam well aware of all that.” ‘** You inherited simply because George Bruce and his son—who was the real heir—disappeared during asea voyage. They have never been heard of from that day to this.”’ ‘* Except in Amos Yarnall’s imagination.” “That was all imagination, indeed,” said Yarnall, with his shrill laugh, ‘‘Although [ have bled you a little by pretending to know where that boy might be found, it was alla mere fraud. I knew no more than the man tn the moon.”’ ‘*Well, you are growing honest, I declare!" ex- claimed Mr. Darlington, in great surprise. ‘Oh, yes! Rogues are always honest when hon- esty is the best polic 7 know.” r. Darlington cou d have struck him for the in- solence of his tone. “™®here is enough of this,”’ he impatiently ex- claimed. “I don’t see that we have any further business. ”’ “Very little, that’s a fact,” returned Yarnall, in- differently. ‘I will only say, in conclusion, that I am a relative of Mr. Bruce. Not so near as you, to be sure; but still a legal relative. And, secondly, I have had advice on this matter and learn that my son Frank is the real heir under the will, in the ab- sence of George Bruce’s son.”’ ‘‘He was not born at the date of Mr. Bruce’s death!” cried Mr. Darlington. . **Pardon me. I can prove that he was. I was under the same impression as you, orI might have troubled you somewhat sooner for that little matter of half a million. Good-day, Mr. Darlington. And I hope that you will appreciate the fact that Amos Yarnall is not the man to show his hand until he is sure of his trumps.” He turned coolly away, and walked off, leaving Mr. Darlington almost as pale as himself, d Halyard, the Life Boat Boy. | . ae os “Can {t be so?’ he muttered, entahing at the door for support, This man will crush me, if he can, as heartlessly as he would crush a fly.” CHAPTER XVI, A STROLL DOWN BROADWAY, We must return to Fred Halyard, who had just taken up his lost trail again, at the ferry of the South Jersey R, R. Co., in Jersey City. The two men whom he had seen walked on, Cap- tain Carstairs lighting a cigar, and passing to the front of the ferry-boat to smoke. Fred did not think it advisable to follow too closely, He heard them laughing to themselves as they conversed together. ‘“Whata jolly old time they are havi way they flung me off the scent,”’ sgilloas d Fred, ‘‘And how dreadful cheap they'd feel if they only had eyes in the back of their heads, and could see me safe back on their track, If they catch me snoozing again I'll sell out this business, and go into the truck line,”’ He took a seat in the cabin, well satisfied that his came could not escape by water, And the boy's eart throbbed with expectation as he saw through the windows of the ferry-boata long line of wharves, and ships, and houses, stretching seemingly for miies away. ’ That was New York—that vast array of the works of man’s hands, He was about to set foot within that seething tide of human life, as unceasingly ae: tive as the ocean he had left. No wondcr his young heart beat high with wonder and expectation, But all this was secondary now. He must track these men to their destination, He had been out- ies at Crockettstown. Would he be in New Ork ~ As he thus 5 Sipe ap the boat touched the wharf. Fred held back in the cabin until he saw his quarry stepashore. He then warily followed. ere were but few repre eS and not many persons about at that hour of the night, It was ne- cessary to be very wary. In fact he was almost up- on his prey ere he knew it. He had lost sight of them for an instant, and hastened forward, coming close upon them as they were chaffering with the driver of a carriage. Fred pulled his hat down over his eyes and walked steadily on, brushing the mate as he passed him, but looking neither to right or left. He went straight on to the other side of the street ere looking back, Keaching the pavement he care- lessly turned, justin time to catch a glimpse ot his two men entering the carriage for which they had been bargaining. “IT don’t see why I can't afford a ride as well as those coons,” thought Fred, ‘Mr. Proctor don't want me to walk where riding's healthier.”’ He was back across the street again quick as a flash. The cabman had just closed the door of his coach, and was mounting his box, To his utter sur- prise he found a slender young chap mounting from the other side, “Well, if you haven't the making of a brass kettle in your face, I'll be shot!" he growled. ‘* Down with you, you wharf-rat, or [’ll burst your b’iler,”’ * Dry up cabby,” was Fred’s somewhat insolent answer. ** Wait till I shut yous eye up before you explode, I can't afford an inside passage, but here’s a good fifty-cent piece for a deck trip.”’ ‘Make it a dollar,” said the cabman, with the in- stincts of his profession. pee up, Itell you. Iain’t here to buy your old cab.” ** What's wrong there?” roared Captain Carstairs, putting his head outof the carriago door, ‘Are you going to be all night starting?” **T'm off now,” called back the cabman, giving the rein to his horses. ‘* Hand it over,” he said to ved. ~ And you've got a mighty cheap ride,” **Oh, yes! dirt cheap,’’ returned Fred, “It's a ving cabs for pure chari- way you fellows have; The cabman laughed, and kept up his chaffing con- versation with Fred, while they rolled up pong streets which looked to the boy, in the midnight gloom, like deep rock channels through some vast plateau, And the line after line of gieamiug lamps which burst upon and faded from his eyes, uppeared to him asif the city Was getting up a grand illumi- nation in his honor.” They ed ge at the door of a hotel, in a wide, allt hted street, that was yet thronged with hu- man life, ; * What do you call this street®’ asked Fred, ‘**Now, that’s too thin!"’ replied the cabman, with a wink, “A chap as sharp as you, and don't know the Bowery? That won't wash,” Fred laughed knowingly, and slipped from the cah on the street side, as its inside passengers go! out upon the pavement, and entered the hotel, after set- tling with the driver, **Good-night, cabby, ciied Fred. up here, too.”’ “All right,’’ returned the cabman, “You're a sharp youre dog, youare, Goodluck go with you.” He drove off as Fred entered the hotel. The cap- tain and mate had already procured a room, and were on their way up-stairs as he cautiously ven- tured in. ‘Guess I'll put up here, too,” thought Fred. “They're good for the night. And I’m obliged to them for not taking me to one of your lofty-priced Broadway hotels. This is good enough for me.,”’ In a half-hour more he was sweetly slumbering. Fred had been used to early rising, and was wide awake at sunrise the ensuing morning. He was over the ‘*Guess I'l put bound not to be caught pap! on this occasion. “T ain’t much afeared, tho of their being very spry,’’ he thought. ‘“‘ Except bed turns out as S Eomileboo (E(0)