Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 261 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

ee oe ee “She was thoroughly herself again, calm, com- posed, and passionless. He smiled deprecatingly. ‘*T do not think so,” he rejoined, ‘“ Do not fear to trust me—you can safely do so.” Her pale lips curled with a slight expression of scorn. “Thave nothing t© fear, Mr. Glendenning,’’ she replied, with hauteur. ‘I will tell you something that will surprise you. I have myself seen this boy. He was indeed surprised, and his looks showed it. - “You have seen him?”’ he cried. “T have seen him,”’ “ Lately?” Wye a week.” ' ““Ah!” he ejaculated, perplexedly. “T, too, was struck by his face, for it reminded me of—my brother."’ ** Your brother?” “Who died when he was only ten years of age. There is his picture drawn from memory.” ‘“Robert—and not Fergus?” he cried, glancing at the inscription. . “I beg, Mr. Glendenning, that you will not in- terest yourself in this strange youth on my behalf; if you choose to befriend him let it be on your own account. Excuse me now, I must dress for dinner,” She inclined her head haughtily, and sweeping by eo with majestic grace, left the library. er was a man more completely nonplused than Rufus Glendenning. He stared at the door through which she had disappeared for several minutes in blank astonishment. “The deuce!’’ he muttered, shaking off this trance of amazement, “Have I been on the wrong scent all the time? CanI be mistaken?’ He deliberated over this. “No, no,” he continued, confidently; **T am positive that I am right. The game is to a more difficult one than I imagined. .She has taken the alarm and will confess nothing—if she can help it. Butcan shedoso? That remains to be seen. I'll force it from ber! I'll bend her haughty spirit, let it cost me what it will!” ‘ CHAPTER XI. PRIOKLES EXERTS HIMSELF. Tue evening of the same day that Lawyer Pickles received the visit from Rufus Glendenning, he called at the house in Baxter street. “There's money in this case,"’ was the conclusion he had arrived at. “That boy belongs to a good family—he's got it in his face—good blood will tell— and I must keep him inhand. There'll be a nice bill of costs at the end of it.”’ He found Fleda and her mother in a state of ex- citement. Fe had not come home to his supper, and they were anxious about him. “Pooh! that's nothing,” said Pickles. ‘** He’s gone to the theater, perhaps. I will call again in the morning,” he continued, addressing himself to the widow; “will you be kind enough to request Fergus to remain untill come? It will be to his interest to do so, I assure you.” Ehe widow promised to do so, and the lawyer took e . “What do you su he wants with Fergus, mother?” questioned Fleda, when Pickles was gone. “T'm I don’t know," replied Nandrus; ‘*but I think ‘he hay found out something about F *s folks.” “Do you think so?” cried Fleda, surprisedly. “Yes; I have eetrs thought that Fergus had some SS that they were well off.’’ “Then why didn’t they take care of him?" ‘That is what I cannot explain, but Nay this lawyer can. Who knows but what Fe ‘s friends, or relatives, are searching for him, and this lawyer is helping them? He wouldn’t waste his time for nothing; lawyers never do." _This theme being once started, was discussed be- tween them till quite late. They sat = until twelve o’clock at — anxiously watching for the return of Ferrus, & d then they reluctantly went to bed we ae conviction that something had hap- ned to : PiThe sat down to their breakfast the next morn- ing with sorrowful hearts, which quite spoiled their appetites. The meal was more a form than any- ! g 6 ae pee was disposed of, and the table away. ‘Oh! where can Fergus be?” Fieda cried, for the twemtieth mer eee: heard the hall door close, and a step in the entry, ‘Here he comes at last!" she exclaimed, joy- fully. Sho sprung to the door and threw it wide open, and, to her intense disappointment, fomnd Mr. Ef- fingham H. Pickles there. “Oh! is it only you?” she cried, vexedly. He smiled upon her, nodded his head, and entered the room in his usual unceremonious manner. “Only me,” responded Pickles, graciously, ‘“ But where’s my bold Fergus? I do not perceive him , of ‘ ere. Fleda’s face clouded again at the question. ‘‘ He hasn't en ne yet,” she answered. kles was surprised. * Not come home!" he rejoined. ‘‘ What, out all night? But where was he going when he left—didn’t he tell you?” inquired Pickles, quickly. Oh, no, he wouldn’t,” answered Mleda; and she proceeded with great volubility to give Pickles an account of Fergus’s expedition in his old clothes, and the mysterious way in which he had set about it. Pickles listened to her attentively, and did not put any uestions, allowing her to exhaust her sub- ject and ‘her breath together. : “Where do you suppose he was going?” he in- quired, when she paused breathlessly, | Fergus Fearnaught, the New York Boy. ——— + + Before she could answer there came a. knock at the door. ‘““Come in!” Pickles called out, as if he was the piaprieics of the piece, The door opened and Clinton Stuyvesant entered. “Oh! here's Clint!” cried Fleda, springing im- pulsively toward him, ‘Have you seen Fergus?” Clinton looked bewildered at the question. ‘Seen him? No; that’s whatIcame for. Isn't he here?” he responded. *“'N-o-0,”’ replied Fleda, dismally. ‘ And he’s been away all night.” “Then he couldn't havg found it,” cried Clinton, . “What? What was hf trying to find?” - My portemonnaie, that | lost down the street.” “ Aha! here’s a clew!” exclaimed Pickles; “ad I think I can follow it up.”” He had keenly noted Clinton’s appearance and dress, and was very favor- ably impressed by them, ‘‘ Who is this young gen- tleman?’’ he inquired of Fleda. “He's a friend of Fergus—and his name’s Clint Stuy vesan * Clinton Me Witt Stuyvesant,” aménded Clinton. “Ah! a scion ef one of our old Knickerbocker families,”’ continued Pickles, in his most affable manner, “Two or three of them,” answered Clinton. “Ah, yes—proud to know you, young sir. Per- mit me to introduce myself; my name is Effingham MH. Pickles, attorney-at-law; perhaps you may have heard of me, as I have gained some little cele- brity in criminal cases. I have gained several mur- der cases on the plea of insanity. Just give me the particulars of the loss of your portemonnaie, my young friend, and, possibly, I may be of some as- sistance in aiding you to recover it,”’ “That's so, as you are a lawyer, andI don’t mind paying you for your trouble, if you are lucky enough to do so,” responded Clinton. “Do not charge yourself with the question of recompense, Mr. Stuyvesant,’ replied ickles, with a condescending wave of his right hand. “Iam personally interested in this matter—interested in the fortunes of that gallant youth, Fergus the Fear- naught, and shall be delighted—delighted to serve his friend. Come with me; let us constitute our- selves private detectives for the occasion, and see if we cannot get on the track of this Ragged Terry for I think he knows something about, your money,’ “Do you know’ him?” inquired Clinton in some surprise. “Oh, yes; I woe ny eye on all these young scalnps as prospective clients,” “Nice clients they are,I should say!” cried Clin- ORs laughingly. **IT should not want any of that 50 “We make more by rogues than we do by honest mén; that's one of the beauties of the profession,” replied Pickles, with a chuckle, ‘ But, come along aud let us see what we can accomplish in the way of discoveries.”’ , Pickles and Clinton Stuyvesant left the house to- gether, and walked down the street a short dis- tance in the hope of meeting Ragged Terry, but they did not succeed in doing so, . ‘He lives somewhere round here,” said Piekles; *“‘we must make some inquiries." ‘*But do you think we shall find him at home?” asked Clinton. ‘ ‘** Well, no, hardly, but we might get some idea of the streets he frequents on his begging expeditions,” replied Pickles, ust then a blowsy Irish woman came out of an alley with a pail of te water in her hand, which she splashed unceremoniously into the gutter, Pickles darted toward her as she turned to retrace her steps, crying out: ““My good woman!”’ She wheeled around ey and it appeared to Clinton that she was strongly tempted to throw her wR, ~~ at the little lawyer’s head, ‘Well, what does ye want?” she snarled, b Pickles beamed one of his affable smiles upon er, ‘We are looking for a lad known as Ragged Terry,” he ann wolen: “ ed Terry, isit?” ‘** Do you know where we could find him?” “Bad ‘cess to me if Ido! I "spect he’s tuck up, and sint to the Island, mebbe, as he ought to have been, long ago—for I haven't set eyes on him since yesterday.” sen ¢ you; that will do,’ responded Pickles, tely. PThe woman looked suspiciously at him and Clin- ton, and shook her head. “t's no good ye want him for,” she said, with conviction; and went back through the alley. ‘*Not much information there,’ observed Clinton, srnilingly. 4 Pickles shook his head in a commiserating man- ner, ‘* Ah! the innocence of youth!” he rejoined. “If we could only retain it, but we cannot—we can-not. My dear young sir, that woman has told me all I wish to know,’ ‘The deuce she has!” cried Clinton, surprisedly, ‘**She just has.” ‘Then you did not wish to know much.” Pickles chuckled at Clinton's perplexity. ‘*There’s where my legal acumen comes in,” he re- plied. ‘“‘Ragged Terry has got your pocket-book, sure. Don’t you see? He hasn't been home, Why not? Gone on aspree with the money, eh, ah?” “That's so!’’ responded Clinton, with conviction; and the little lawyer rose in his estimation from mn ia “I never should have thought of a . ‘**Of course not; it’s not to be expected that you should. Every man to his trade”’- 1 “What's the next move?” ' “Down to the den of these young thieves. Ten chances to one we shall find them enjoying a regru- lar blow-out at your expense.”’ “Tam afraid we will not find much of the mone left,’’ replied Clinton, as they proceeded on the way. e Well, I must confess our hope of recovering the money begins to look shady—quite sha-dy,” rejoined Pickles, ** But there’s no help for that—if they’ve remy it we can’t get it back, though we can send them up forit. Iam more anxious, though, to find out what has become of our bold Fe 44 **So am I; for I fear he has got into trouble. The thought worries me because it was on my account.’ “Never worry; life is too short; take it lively. Care killed the cat! If Fergus is in a scrape we'll get him out of it—we’ll get him out—sure pop!" CHAPTER XII. A HIGH OLD TIME. | Fiepa attended to her business, as she called it, in a very absent manner after she had arranged her’ stand and wares at the customary corner. She had been there about a quarter of an hour without having a customer, when her attention was: attracted by the sound of boisterous laughter, and she saw Rowdy Rube, Johnny the Chicken, and Terry coming along the sidewalk toward her, but so changed in their appearance that she rubbed her: eyes surprisedly, and wondered if it really could be they, Fach one of them was dressed in a new summer suit, and wore a calico shirt of a variegated pattern, with a fancy necktie, of a high color, a new straw hat; and each one held a cigar in the corner of his mouth, with the nonchalance of an old smoker, with this difference, as Terry was the abort yee boy he had contrived to get the longest cigar. ‘Oh, my!’ murmured Fleda to herself, as she erceived them, ‘Ain't they just a-goin’ it? Clint. suyregent won't get much of mouey back, I’n» afraid. . . The trio pensed in front of Fleda’s stand, and saluted her boisterously. “Gimme a pint o’ peanuts!"* piped Terry, in his: shrill treble. “I don’t want no trust, neither.” He displayed a handful of change as he spoke. “Let's buy her out—give the gal a !” crled Rowdy Rube. “°Twon't take much to do that,” said the Chicken. ‘*Help yerself, boys, and I'll stand the damage.” The boys began to fill their pockets with Fleda's- wares, vociferously demanding the dam as they did so. They cleaned her stand, and paid ber the price she demanded without eavil; three princes of the blood royal co not have dispensed their money with a freer hand. “Now you can go home,” pi Terry, who- seemed to be in a particularly appy frame of mind ; “and don’t say we never nuthin’ for er. ser Oh, if I only knew where to find the lawyer and Clint!’ thought Fieda, Po Then a new idea came suddenly into her brain, ‘ Perhaps they know where Fergus is!’’ This reflection was in- stantly acted — “When did last?’’ she questioned, addressing general manner to the whole three. ; ‘Why, don’t yer know?” returned Terry, * Hain't- yer What?” rejoined Fleda, gaspingly. * What?” rejoin eda, £ ; . “He's sent up!” cried Rowdy Rube, exultingly. “He won't get another chance to punch my head for some time to come,” Fleda looked, in a dismayed manner, from one boy’s face to another, and both the Chick nt nodded a confirmation of Rowdy Rube’s: wo “Sent up!" stammered FI “Oh! what do you mean? Sent up where?” “To Blackwell's Island!” answered Terry, lugu- briously, ‘* What for?” “For fightin’ with Micky Shea down on the pier at Dover street. A cop came up an' grabbed Ferg, but the other coves scooted, an’ got away; an’ Ferg was carried to the station-house, an’ tuck to the Tombs in der mornin’, an' der judge sent bim up. That’s what Arohie Quale told me, and he see’d Ferg tuck in,” Terry delivered this account volubly. ‘Oh, the lawyer and Clint must know this right. away,’ murmured Fleda. “Where are you going now, boys?” “Let's go to der Atlantic Garden an’ have some: lager beer and Switzer kase,"’ said Terry. i ae a go!” answered Rowdy Rube, approv- gly. . bm convenient,’’ added the Chicken, The trio locked arms and walked away, swagger- ing along the sidewalk in a ludicrous manner, ‘Oh, jf they will only stop there long enough for me to Nad the lawyer and Clint, and send them there!’ muttered Flieda to herself, as she hurried home with her stand. | She deposited it in the house, gave her mother a_ hurried account of what she had heard, to her great. surprise and grief, and n went in search of law- yer Pickles and Clinton Stuyvesant. Knowing that they would go to the Dover street. ier, she thought her best plan would be to proceed ere at once, Fleda was fleet of foot, and she soon reached Chatham street. As she Noe pe on the corner of Pear! street, waiting for saw Pickles and Clinton Stuyvesant coming up Pearl street on the opposite side. ith a glad cry, and at the risk of being run over ou s8e6 " question in a é vehicles to pass, she — “boo : ” < * *