Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 196 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

12 . - ——— —— ee —-----ee — - - - wae ee ee --—-- —_— o— — a ee = ee ee -_——-- tone of the young lady the officer ascended the stairs, and proceeded to look through room after room, closely followed in his every step by the two women, and encouraged in his search by certain very uncomplimentary re- marks from Bridget. Grace kept silent, how- ever. ‘There was an anxiety upon her face which she sought to hide trom the vigilant eyes of the officer. ‘This room?’ said the searcher, as one door \eailed to yield to his hand. | You cannot enter there.” ‘ “Why not?” ‘** Because that is my own chamber. And be- cause I came from it just now, on hearing Bridget’s call. Ido not choose to lay open my private apartment at your demand. You may take my word that it conceals no murderer.” ‘*Oh!” he shrugged his shoulders meaningty. ** Very well. I will go to the upper floor, then.” He walked to the head of the stairs, ‘‘ Tim!” “Well, sir?” **Come up here, and keep an eye upon this floor, while I look into the upper rooms.”’ The third story was quickly searched, It contained but a few rooms, and these—like the whole house, in fact—held no pease places, The officer reluctantly coucluded that he must have been mistaken, and that the fugitive had not entered there. | ‘*] hope you will excuse me,” he said to Grace, on regaining the second floor. ‘‘ Of course I consider your word as sufficient, but I have to answer to others who may be less con- siderate. Itis necessary that I should satisfy myself by a look into that locked room.” ‘‘T have already told you that it holds no murderer,” replied Grace coldly. ‘‘I decline to open it.” **'Then we shall have to break it' open.” ‘Do so at your peril,” she quickly rejoined. ‘You have no warrant to sustain you in an such high-handed proceeding. You may find it a dangerous experiment to enter any citizen’s house, and proceed to break open doors without authority.” ‘* We will see about that,” exclaimed the offi- cer. ‘‘Come here, Tim. I will take the re- . sponsibility.” ' i The two men advanced to the door, Grace following them with anxious eyes, Ou arriving there they hesitated a moment nversed together in low tones. It wasa rather dangerous experiment which they had reatened totry. They naturally dreaded the consequences. The officer again turned to Grace. “We do not wish to proceed to extremities,” he said. ‘‘ Yet I should imagine that you would not care to have us leave the house wiih this suspicion hanging over your head. You know what people will think.” **T gare not what they think,” she curtly re- joined. ‘‘But you shall see the room. I have nothing to hide. If you doubt my word you shall see for yourself. Here is the key,” She felt in her pocket for the key. it did not appear to be there. ‘Ah, Lremember! Bridget, you will find it on the mantel in the hall-bedroom. I was standing there with it in my hand a few min- utes ago.” Bridget went for the key, leaving the three others in silent waiting for her return. But Grace had changed her manner to the officers. Instead of preserving ber former haughty silenee she now kept up a rapid conversation, asking a dozen questions about the object of their search. “Ab! hereis the key. Now, gentlemen, you shal) see for yourselves.” In a moment the door stood wile open and the officers had entered, ‘They looked around. It was as she had said, furnished as a lady’s bedchamber. aeenoments examination showed that it contained no fugitive. “Where does this door lead?’ asked the officer, pointing to a door at one side of the room. ‘“To the next apartment, which you have already searched,” replied Grace, in an un- natural, balf-choked utterance. There was a gulping sound in her throat which she disguised y a cough. _** What gives you this fancy, that your fugi- tive is concealed here?’ she hastily continued, as they left the room. ‘* Because a pistol-shot was heard in your | garden.” ‘‘A pistol-shot! At whom? Do murderers usually fire pistols to warn the pursuers where to fiad them?” ‘* Hardly,” said the officer, struck by this sug- gestion. Shadowed; or, Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life. Meanwhile, Tim, not yet satisfied, had looked into the room to which led the communicating door from Grace’s chamber, She watched him with a paling face. ‘*T heard that noise, but did not understand it,” she remarked. ‘* There was a boat moored at the foot of the garden. Is it there yet? Your murderer may have taken to the water.” The partly concealed anxiety of ber face dis- appeared when Tim emerged from the room. His look showed the kat had found nothing. ‘‘ A boat!” cried the officer. ‘' A good sug- gestion. You may beright. He is not here, at all events, and Iamsorry for having disturbed you. Come, Tim.” ‘‘ Bridget, show the gentlemen to the door,” remarked Grace coldly. She stood erect and motionless as a statue, while their retreating steps sounded on the stairs, and until the closing door admonished her that they had left the house. Then she turned, and reeled rather than walked into her room, every vestige of color leaving her face. There, almost as pale as she, sto-d Bob Rockett, supporting himself with his hand on the frame of the communicating door, ‘You are an angel of wit and kindness!” he cried, making as if he would fall on his knees before her. ‘‘ Your suggestion about this door has saved me, I heard your voice and knew just when to slip through this fortunate portal.” ‘‘T told them that there was no murderer here,” she said, her lips deathly white. ‘‘ Nor is there,” he earnestly replied. ‘‘ And as for crime of any scrt I am done with it for- ever. You have saved me from a life of shame and misery.” ‘But this dreadful charge! Did you not say that if you had time you could prove your in- nocence?” ‘Yes. I can prove an alibi.” ‘* By whom?” ‘By a mau who has disappeared, and whom - have tried in vain to find. By Roger Glin- on. ‘‘ Ah!” she exclaimed, with deep interest, ‘Yes. But he is gone. He has fled with Marie Ormiston. I know not where, nor am I in a position to find Lim.” ‘Phen I will make that my task,” she fer- vently 29bute ** No money, no effort, no time shall be spared to discover him. If he can save you he shall be found.” ‘‘Thanks! a thousand thanks!” faltered Bob. “But you must stay here until vight. I will see that no one in the house discovers you.” CHAPTER XI. HAUNTED BY THE SHADOW OF DEATH. Wuere is there in the world a region more barren and desolate than in the sandy regions of New Jer- sey? To those who pass by rail through these be- nighted regions, the view of desert reaches of sand, thinly covered with scrub pine and oak, and destitute for miles of a sign of life, with scarce an insect visible in the sweltering air,is a most depressing sight. But to be doomed to wander on foot through such life-forsaken scenes, to journey for miles through the yielding sands, or across quaking bogs, with- out a semblance of living companionship, who could long endure such an existence? And particularly if one be haunted by a crime, from which he is seeking to fly, but which ever re- morselessly pursues him, it would seem asif mad- ness must follow such a horrible experience. So it was with the wretch whom we sce there now, dragging himself along slowly under those gloomy pines, or anon running like a madman over the dc- ressing wastes, with his face turned fearfully over ig shoulder, as though he saw some dread specter on his track. It was Rusty Mike. He had somehow made his way from the Hudson to these benighted regions, without discovery. But what a change had come upon him! He had been already haggard and cadaverous in his inter- view with Grace Essex. But since then remorse, fear, and perhaps hunger, had told fearfully upon him. His face was thin almostas that of askeleton, the skin drawn tightly over its fleshlessness, while the eyes glittered with a feverish intensity in the starved face as if the last kindled embers of the one were flashing through the ashes of a burnt-out ife. It wasasif the ghost of his murdered wife were pursuing him step by step, never giving the wretch a moment’s rest, but following his footsteps with remorseless activity. There was incipient madness in the shuddering looks which he cast over his shoulder, in the haste with which he started on from every momentary pause, in the cries of horror which now and then broke from his lips, It was the fitting end toa life of crime, the retribu- tion which a long indulgence in brutality must in time build up for the heartless wretch. ‘“*Oh, mercy, mercy!” he yelled. ‘‘Away, away, horrible shape! Leave me! Oh, will you never leave me?” He burried on, his lips working in convulsive mut- terings. * a eee oe = ——— a ce ee ee + _— -_—_—- es “Ah! I must see a human face! Anything, ary danger—but tbis! Let them take me WU they wii. Iam dying now for tood. No, no, l am dying cr fear, that bloody face is killing me! Oh! | must get among men and women! She will not follow me there! Anything to escape trom this!” An hour afterward found the wretch in a emal! village, that rose like an oasis out of the desert woods. He was like a specter come among men and women. They gazed at him with half-scared eyes. Shrunk trom him as from amaniac or amon ster, but did uot refuse him the food for which he Sided and which he devoured like a famished east. He showed a fear to depart. He clung to the vicinity of these beings of his own kind, as if they could protect him from the spectral image, which his averted eyes still saw over his shoulder, ‘*“Move on!’ cried one ot ihe villagers, in brutel tones. ‘‘We have no room here for tramys or va- grants. Move onto where you can find work ora poor-house.”’ He quietly obeyed. All the old fierce spirit m him had been quelled. He would have submitted to any insults for the privilege of escaping those dread solitudes and keeping in human company. To be alone with hisown thoughts! That was a more hor- +e, fate than any to which man coukl doom iim. For several days this human specter was seen wandering through village after village of that part of the State. Who could he be? Whence had he come? Strange surmises began to be entertained about him. ‘the story of his appearance got into the APS, He became famous even as far as New ork. It was a gloomy day in mid May when he made his advent into Sandtown, one of the larger villages in his line of travel. His fear of man was wearing off as he found that his time character bad bcen recognized. And the starved look of his face was somewhat changed since charity had suy plied him with food. But the shuddering dread in hs eyes remained there yet, and was the worse this day as the warm sunshine had disappeared, and a cold, drizzling rain took its place. He crept like a haunted man into the village, made his way shiveiingly along its streets, and at Jength crawled under the high porch of the village inn, where he curled himself up like a soaked dog, out of the rain at least, if not away from his thoughts. His advent had been observed by a group of vil- lage gossips on the inn porch, and an animated con- versation ensued, of which he was the subject. They had heard of him before, and fifty surmises were made as to who he was, and as many views cs to what should be dcne with the living skeleton, by which title they designated him. Something in this conversation attracted the at- tention of a young man, a stranger in the village who had lately driven up to the inn, He listenec for a while to their talk, and asked several questions about the appearance of the tramp, while a look of growing satisfaction came into his eyes. ‘** And he is under the porch here now?" “Yes. He’s been there this hour.” ‘Will one of you be kind enough to call him out? I would like to see this man,” One of the inn gotsips readily complied with this request, stining up the tramp with his foot, and curtly bidding him to “come out of there.” With a groan and a muttered curse Mike obeyed, and followed his conductor to the porch, where he stood glaring around with his halt insane eyes, though with a secret satisfaction that he was in the company of Lis own kind. “pose ye want me, gentlemen,” he muttered, looking from face to face. ‘Yes, there’s a gentleman here warts a look at our pbiz,”’ replied the man who had summoned m, Mike looked around in the direction of the point- ing finger. Acry of alarm and a quick curse broke from his lips. 2) Bo ae oe ‘‘There, there! None of that now!” And Bob Rockett, for it was he, faced him with a command- ing look. “It’s allup, Mike. lhave heard of your being here, and have come after you. You will go with me.” A touch of Mike’s flerce recklessness returned. ** Devil take me then if—”’ ‘** Hold there, now! Gentlemen, this man is Mike STOPD es the murderer. He goes with me to New ork,’ Had a bombshell fellen from a clear sky into their midst there could not have tecn gieater surprise and consternation than the group of village gossips exhibited at that astouncing intelliccnce. ftaring eyes, uplifted hands, paralyzed tc1 gucs, chairs over- turned in their hesty movement backward, partly testified to the surge of feeling which had shot through their brains. “Mike Crapper!’ ‘The murderer!” ‘“ Well, Pll swow!’ ‘* Gol darn me, if that don’t beat all!” were asample of the exclamations which Lurst frcm the astounded villagers, “Exactly. Some one tell the landlord to bring out my team,” He touched the shrinking villain on the shoulder, and whispered in his ear. ‘*Come, Mike, no humbug now. I fave you a chance todo me justice, and you refused. told you then that you should not escape me, and that I would hand vou over to the police, iat I say I mean, MikeCrapper. You shall hang for the mur- der of that woman, if I have to die in your ccm- pany.’ Mike, with a lowering but cowed face, muttered | JOO com (S Sy (E(o) - ~~