Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 196 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

ee me eee ee ‘** What luck?” he asked, addressing the other two. ** None, seen.” The third man fixed his sbarp eyes on the pro- prietor of the room, beau twisted uneasily under the look. ‘‘Hal” exclaimed the officer. ‘‘ Here’s an old friend, atany rate. Beau Bink, by all that’s funny. Playing ’possum over a newspaper, Come, come, Beau, the jig’s up. Where is he?” ‘““What’s wrong?’ asked Beau, defiantly. “There’s nothing ag’in’me. I’m an honest citi- zen of New York, and don’t owe no man a penny.” ‘No squirming now, my hearty. He’s an old friend of yours. Where is he?” ‘** Who?” asked Bob, with a show of ignorance. ‘You know very well, Your old pal, Bob Rockett.” ‘‘Bob Rockett? Old Bob, hey?) Why I ain’t twigged him for—now let me see— Why, blast it all, Bob’s kicked the bucket. Shot in that rascally bank job. You oughter know that.” ‘‘Let up, my man. That’sa played-out game. He’s been tracked here. Come, out with it!” ‘* Bob Rockett? Why you don’t mean to say as how he’s come to lifeagain? It’d be jist like Bob though. So yer arter him fer that bank biziness ?” ‘‘Bank business be fizzled! Do you suppose we'd turn out this way for a dropped-through job like that?’ He lowered his vvice to its deepest tones. ‘‘Murder’s the jig, my friend! It’s a murderer we want.” ‘*‘Murder?’? Beau sprung excitedly to his yet. This is the only man we’ve Bob Rockett has come to life again; and what’s more he had a hand in the murder ofSally Crapper. There’s positive proof against him. You would not help a murderer to escape?” An ejaculation of surprise and horror came from Beau’s lips.” ‘‘Sally Crapper! Prove it to me, and. by heavens, Vll be a worse bound than any of you on his track.” As he spoke another man entered the room: ‘‘We have searched the upper story,” he announced. ‘It’s empty, Our man is notin the house.” ‘‘That’s a lie!” cried Beau excitedly. ‘‘ He isin the house.—Murdered Sally Crapper, did he? Follow me, gentlemen.” CHAPTER IT. BEAU BINK IS SLIGHTLY SURPRISED. But what has become of Bob Rockett? It is no easy matter to escape from a house swarm- ing with policemen, and yet he had in some strange manner given them the slip. But presence of mind, quickness and energy will accomplish seemingly impossible things, and these were the only agents used by Bob in his extraordinary escape. No matter how sharp men may be they are apt to overlook slight contingencies, and leave open loopholes through which a resolute man may safely slip. Thus the officers delegated to search by way of the back stairway, which led up, as we are aware, to the passage-way back of Beau Bink’s room, imagined that they had taken every necessary precaution when they left one of their number on guard at the foot of the stairs, while two others ascended to the upper stories and searched every room which they met in their progress. Bob, at the rear door of Beau’s room, had, through a slight opening, seen these two men make their appearance at the head of the stairs, and stop a moment to decide upon tbeir next movements. The fugitive grasped in his hands the heavy shoes which he had just taken from his feet, and a stern look came upon his face as he saw the two men start forward along the passage. Evidently he did not intend to be taken without one blow for liberty. They slowly advanced through the dark pas- sage until they reached the two doors which opened nearly opposite each other, on the two sides of the entry way. Here they stopped again fora moment’s talk in low tones, and then they tried these two doors. They were not locked, and readily opened to their touch. ‘*T don’t fancy that there’s much show in here,” said one of the men. ‘It does not look well got up for a hiding-place. I suppose, though, we’d best take a look inside.” They entered the two rooms. Here was the opportunity for which Bob had waited, and on which he had calculated as a possibility. In an instant he slipped through the | door of | Beau’s room, and hurried along the entry, the light step of his stockinged feet making no sound upon the floor, The back of the officer was turned toward him as he slipped past the door of one of the rooms, and rapidly glided toward the stairs, At this moment the officer came from the op- posite room, calling out to his comrade: ‘‘Nothing here, Phil.. How does your hunt pan out?” ‘*Not worth shucks,” came in a growl from the other room, ‘‘ There’s not a rat here.” Bob had paused in his quick flight, and stood pressed close against the wall of the shadowy passage, not ten feet from them. He held his breath, and stood in a crouching attitude, as if ready to make a tiger’s leap upon them if dis- covered, But, quite unconscious of the presence of a living being so near them, the officers never thought of looking back over the path by which they had just come. On the contrary, thev walked forward to the other end of the passage and entered Beau Bink’s room by the partly open door, Bob Kockett remained alone in the passage, but how he was to escape was not so evident. It would be folly for him to make his way to the upper story. Very likely the rooms there were being already searched. But to go down the stairs was equally dangerous. He knew very well that the foot of the stairway was guarded. He stood for a moment in deep thought, and with something of the feeling of a caged fox. But we must leave him in this difficult posi- tion for the present, surrounded by his enemies, and not knowing which way to turn to escape, and go back to trace the further movements of these enemies. As we have seen, the announcement to Beau Bink that the crime with which the fugitive was charged was not robbery, but murder, had worked a marked revolution in the feelings of that worthy. He had been a thief and pick- pocket all bis life, and was at any time willing to empty a pocket when opportunity offered. And yet, with all this, he was really soft- hearted, and would not have done a personal! in- jury to a fly. The very idea of murder was abhorrent to him. But the murder of Sally Crapper! one of his best friends, and a woman to whom he owed a thousand favors! That was too much. Had Bob Rockett been bis twin-brother he would have turned against him on that score, and he put bimself at the head of the officers witha touch of bloodhound ferocity. Beau sprung hastily to the back door of his room, which he flung open, crying, in a loud voice: “This way! Follow me!” But a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder and drew bim back into the room. He turned to encounter the keen gaze and cynical smile of the principal officer. ** Not so fast, my dear friend,” said this latter, sarcastically. ‘‘Did you never hear cof*the hounds running past the fox’s lair? Suppese you repress your enthusiasm a little, and we will go to work on our principle of ‘ slow and sure.’ I prefer to begin by taking a look through this room.” **Oh, you would!” replied Beau, with equal sarcasm. ‘‘Go ahead, then. Your friends, here, tried that on, but maybe they left some holes or cracks without nosing them.” ‘“*That’s true,” answered one of the officers. ‘*Our man is not here.” Without ibe slightest attention to these re- marks, the sharp-eyed thief-taker looked around the room with one of those keen observations which nothing escapes. But the only biding-place which the apartment afforded was the closet, as he quickly perceived, and he threw open the door of this and glanced within. It was a nar- row opening, not more than a foot in depth, holding Beau Bink’s very slim stock of clothes, but affording no hiding-place for a fugitive of Bob Rockett’s dimensions. “That is empty, at all events,” remarked the officer, as he shut the door of the closet, and turned the key, which stood in the lock. ‘‘There’s one hole closed to our fox,” he contin- ued, as he handed Beau the key. ‘‘ Here’s the way to your wardrobe, my friend. Lead on, now— But, stay. You, Joe, take your stand out here, on the landing at the head of the stairs. We will make a drive through the rear passages.” The group of men vanished from the room, The murderer went this way! by the two doors, leaving Beau Bink’s apart- ment to emptiness and silence. shadowed; or, Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life. 3S ae eee ‘* You are losing time,” cried Beau, with en- ergy. ‘This way! He escaped by this door! Tbe infernal murderer! Only let me Md my hands on bim! Here are two rooms, e may be in them.” ‘“Not in both at once, I fancy,” coolly re- plied one of the officers. ‘‘ It is not two min- utes since we searched them. They don’t held a mouse, much less a man.” The doors of these apartments still stood wide open, as their late searchers had leftthem, The suspicious leader of the party cast a quick glance into each. ‘* Are there any closets?” he asked. sé No. ”? ‘*Lead on, then. there.” Reaching the back stairway the party divided into two, a part of them going down-stairs, the remainder up toward the fourth floor. But the sentinel still stood at the bottom of this flight, on the second floor, where he had been stationed by his comrades, No one had passed him, he declared. Not asoul had come down that stairway. Beau Bink, the leader of the searching party, and another officer, ascended the flight to the fourth floor. “He talked about the skylight,” remarked Beau. ‘ But, if be’s got onto that roof he’s a gone sucker. It don’t communicate nowhere. All the houses around are lower than this, you see,” An examination of the skylight quickly set- tled that question. It was firmly bolted down. Plainly, no one had escaped in that direction. The rooms of this upper floor were again searched, with the same result as before. — * Bob Rockett isn’t a salamander, nor he isn’t a witch as could make his way through a key- bole,” exclaimed Beau. ‘‘ But, where in the blue blazes he is, gets me. It ain’t ten mortal minutes since I had my two eyes on bim; and now he’s gone like a whiff of smoke.” He scratched his head in a perplexed manner. Here was a mystery beyond bis powers of guess~’ ing. The leader of the police, a grim look on his face, led the way down the stairs. Here still stood the man he had left on guard. No one had passed him. Beau flung open the ‘oor of his room, The officer pushed past bim nto the apartment. ‘Tam not satisfied about those two hack- rooms,” he said, ‘* W : passed them too easily.” He was gone for : minute or two, but re- turned with a dissati ded face. ‘* Nothing there,” ' e announced. ‘And nothing bh re,” replied Beau, “ except you want to look ir o the closet again, I don’t calculate, though, ‘aat Bob Rockett could get them broad shoulders of his through the key- hole, even if he was a witch.” of fancy not,” said the officer, with a jerk at the locked door. Beau felt in his pockets for the key. not there. “ Thought I heard something drop,” be mut- tered. “It bas gone through that rascally hol: in my pocket, that I ought to had sewed upa month ago.” The officer turned upon 1 is heel and Jed the way down-stairs. The lowe~ part of the house was again searched, but as frv itlessly as before. Beau scratched his head in d.eper amazement than ever. = ‘“‘ He was bere, I'll swear to tha.,” he averred, “Tll be banged if I thought Bot was such a cute sleight-o’-bander. Vd give a joint off my big toe to tell what’s ’come of him.” The officer looked at him with deep distrust. He evidently put very little faith in Beau’s pro- fessions. ‘You knew Sally Crapper?” he esked. ‘‘Knowed her? Why I liked that woman bette:’n I liked anybody else on this 1 ling world, She wasa mighty good friend to me, now I tell you.” ‘‘Then you had best keep an eye open for ker murderer. We will set a watch on this house, though he will bardly return here. But you know some of his haunts?’ ‘* Nary a haunt,” muttered Beau. “It will be money in your pocket if you can put us on his track.” ‘‘The deuce take your money!” cried Beau, I fancy our man is not It was angrily, ‘‘I ain’t that kindof a joker as sells out their old friends for money. But, if he really bad a hand in murdering Sally Crepper ’d run bim down worse than a blcodhcuns would a runaway nigger. Jist put that clearin my brain-pan, and l’m your boss.” A conversation ensued, in which the officer gave his reasons for this belief in Bob’s guilt, com EVOOKSTEcOM