Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 397 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

way of Ree earth caus aos Yhak- 1c 4e cantited to Bicwn: ond Okex the law. I believe nearly any Ital- ian would consent to hide me,” Twang ! It was a peculiar sound, and as Marco turned to- ward the quarter from which it sounded, he saw a jong, keen koife quivering in the board not two feet from him. The position of the knife showed that it had passed him going horizontally, barely missing tis body, and with such force that. ‘the house being an old wooden one, it had been half buried. One glance was enough for him to recogaize the work of the mysterious Knite-Bravo. but as he saw - — of paper dangling from the handle, he paused ick i it off. Five brief words were written thereon in seed letters: ‘*THIS IS THE LAST WARNING!”’ The Pa !rone Prince plucked out the weapon with a snarl of rage, and looked around; but he had wait- ed too long. There was ai paray | to show whence the weapon had come, or whose hand had dispatched it. But Marco Gambora’s face had lost much of its ruddy color, and as he walked away his manner was no longer the old jaunty one of the Prince of Maul- berry street. He was learning the truth of the statement that *‘ uneasy lies the head that wears a crown!’ CHAPTER XVI. WHO IS BIANCA? HELENA ABBOTT was alone in her room when a servant announced that Mr. Bertrand was in the parlor and wished to see her. She changed expres- sion,. but made no comment, and went quietly down. Oscar was there, a nervous, troubled look on his face, but he arose and greeted her with an attempt to be natural, though both showed signg of being ill at ease. ‘**T received your note,” said the young man, *‘ and have called as requested, ” ‘“*T wanted to see you particularly,’’ replied Helena, “though what I have to say is not like ily to be pleas- ant to either of us, Let me explain at once, however, I have been thinking a good deal of late, and, as e result, I am convinced that our engagement must ba broken.” ‘* Helena!” he cried, reproachfull ly. “Yes, Ihave had a due regard for the wishes of my father, but I find it impossible to carry out his plan. I do not care for you, and as I would not contract a life-union with any one under such cir- cumstances, I must ask to be released from my romise.”’ What Bertrand had feared had come at last, but he was by no means ready to accept his dismissal. He went into an elaborate argument, and a lon conversation followed. Miss Abbott had not intend- ed to give any reason more than that she did not care for him, but his Sena finally drew from her the admission that, among other objections, she had reason to believe he was trying to secure the fortune of Adam Woodman, to the exclusion of the little girl Adam wished to make his heiress. Oscar dared not ask her reasons for believing this, che he vehemently declared his innocence of the charge. n the contrary,”’ he said, “I have of late been Ne ip to find my cousin, and with such success that I shall to-day present her to my mother. All is arranged, and in two hours I shall have her at the house. I can, at least, clear myself of this charge. and I ask you to be at ‘the house at one o'clock and you shall see her.”’ Helena objected to this, but he inkisted so strong- ty that she finally yielded and made the require promise. me went away, not yet despairing of winning a wife Miss Abbott went to the Bertrand house at the designated time, and Oscar soon appeared, accom- panied by a girl of about thirtesn years. But this was not all. When Helena saw her she started, for it was the dark-eyed little beauty of the Italian colony—Bianca! The child had been uneasy and il] at ease in Oscar’s company, but her face brightened at sight of Helena, and she went to her at once. ‘*Is this really your cousin?’ asked Helena, in surprise. “She is. fone Welk will say she looks like a full- blooded Italian. ell, only for the clearness of her skin, which is not dark enough for an Italian’s, she does have little sign of American blood. Her hair and eyes are those of Italy.”’ ‘*My mother was an American,”’ said Bianca, look- ing wistfully at Miss Abbott, whom she regarded as her best friend there, For Oscar she had little liking, though he had treated her kindly. ‘What was your mother’s name, dear?”’ “Ah! Idonot know. She died many years ago. But Mr. Bertrand says it was Rose Woodman,” “Yes,” added Oscar, lightly, * such is the case. I have been to a good deal of trouble to find her, but itis done at last and the case fully authenticated. Grandfather Woodman has only to appear now, and 1 will present his long-missing heiress.’ At this moment a servant appeared and an- nounced : ‘Mr, Augustus Redding!"’ Bertrand frowned, but before he could speak, Gus came in quickly. He did not even look a Helena, but fixed oe poset ne on Bertrand. ‘Sir.’ said he, ‘allow me to ask by what right you bave brought yonder child here?" Bob o’ the Meme ae te OR we me eS ointed to Bianca, and Oscar wavered percep- tbl ut soon recovered his natural assurance. do not admit your right to question me, sir, but I will say that aoe child,’ as you call her, is my cousin, Bianca Donati “ Your cousin!” ‘Yes, sir.” ed bez your pardon, but you're either greatly mis- taken or something else. The girl has not one drop of your blood in her veins. Sheisthe daughter of Paoli Lecardo and Miriam Anna Curtis—the latter formerly of Syracuse, this State. 1 have been work- ing up this case, in the interest of the Curtis family, and the proot is complete. You, Miss Abbott, know one of my witnesses. He is briano Leordi, the man who was assaulted by city roughs, and thus became one of your numerous proteges. This child is no Bertrand, nor is sbe a Woodman.” ‘Tt is false!” cried Oscar, angrily. ‘**| beg your pardon, sir,”’ replied Redding, stiffly, “but, if you use such intemperate language, I may be led to inatiiie why you have tried to palm her o as the real granddaughter of Adam Woodman, when ou knew she was nothing of the kind. To me. it ooks very much like an attempt to use a false he ir ogg for a true one, so that you might reap the bene- Oscar seemed paralyzed by this shot, but his mother came to his aid and attacked Redding with truly feminine force and want of logic. She used very severe language, «nd ended by informing the young man as to the location of the outer door ay eg BG tg nae ion, Mrs. Bertrand,” replied Gus, calmly, ** and I deeply regret that there should be any trouble here, but as lam the agent of the Curtis family I cannot desert Bianca. I ask you quietly to let her go with me, If you refuse, I shall take legal steps to recover her ec rour hands.” Mrs. Bertrand was e with anger, but Oscar had become thorough *: frightened. **No, no!" he exclaimed. ‘* There is no need of anything of the kind, Pecssibly I have made a mis- take, and I feel sure we can trust you. You shall have the girl— Wait! I havea better idea, Why not let Miss Abbott be her guardian until the matter is settled?’ Bianca, who had been cowering at Helena’s side, the shadow of Alarm in her dusky eyes as she heard this quarrel, caught eagerly at the idea, and no one opposed it. Gus had come in believing Helena was still attached to Bertrand, but there was that in her face which made him doubt it now, In any case, she was honest and trustworthy. So it was settled, and Redding took his leave with such politeness as seemed necessary. Helena soon followed, with Bianca in charge, and the Bertrands were left alone. “The jig is up!” said Oscar, bitterly. ‘‘Our game has fallen through, and, if an investigation follows, the fact that we tried it will weigh heavily against us. Great heavens! what if the real heiress should be found?” Bob o’ the Bowery found his detective work pro- gressing very satisfactorily. He had rescued Adam oodman from the hands of his enemies. and placed him where he was not likely to again fall into trou- ble, and he had reason to believe that with the pa- ers recovered from Crow McGookin, he could s.on earn the exact identity of Adam’s randdaughter. That it was Bianca he firmly believed, but there was nothing like getting proof. Of course it was Bob’s duty to restore the papers at once to Adam, but the boy had become a good deal interested in his detective work, and he wanted all the credit of unraveling the mystery. Besides, it would be a very pleasant surprise for the-old man if the whole truth could be told him in five minutes, without the trouble of running all over New York after the threads of the case. One of the addresses which had been given Adam was on Hudson street. It will be remembered that he tried to find it by a hap-hazard searcl), arid fell among thieves. But Bob had the exact address, and he made his way over to the West side and looked it u He was dit irected to a house on Macdoucgal street, ore he was assured that he could get fullinforma- on Back he went, and, reaching Macdougal street, was soon in the presence of the Mrs. Lilly to whom he had been directed. She proved to be an honest, mother! -looking woman, and as she waszpoor her- self, Bob’s rags did not create a dy alsin “T’m out this a. M. onter a ’vestigatin’ trip,’’ he said, ‘‘an’ I hev been tole that you kin cast a ‘lec- tric light onter w’at is agertatin’ my profess’nall buzzum.”’ ‘*Indeed! What is your profession?” “I’m inter two lines. One is Denes but in this hyar department Stumpy ‘tends ter things. Seamipy is ,my pardner, mum, and a right good “chap he is w’en he ain't got ther gloveson. But he’saknocker- out, Stumpy is, an’ when he gits coer ther war- ath, he jest makes gore fly ‘nough ter paint ther own red. He's an awful fighter. y fav'rite biz is detective worruk.”’ The woman smiled. ‘* Have you come here as a detective?”’ *“ Right ye be, mum. Ye hev ketched on like an elevated-road gate onter a passenger two seconds late. I’m here as a representation Q’ ther firm 0’ Pinkerton, Vidoq and Bowery know is ‘bout one Paolo Bonati, him once.’ : s Oh! the Italian. Yes, I knew him, but he is now ead " Phesantt Did ye also krow his wif?” * Rose? Yes, she died in my house.”’ an’ w’ot I wanter ae m tole ye knowed SS “Good ’nough! That is ter obsarve, I’m glad big re wal infermationed onter things. Wal, they hie Ay ot’ s become 0’ her ?” ‘**T don’t know,”’ * Don't know?”’ “No. After Rose died I wanted to take charge of the little girl, but Donati, Rose’s husband, insisted on giving ‘it to a man whom he knew, an!, as I feit hurt, l dr roa them all entirely.” “T see ut, look yer, can’t ye put me onter ther secre te ‘** es. Mrs, Warden, of No, — Great Jones street, ean tell you all about ir. Bob had this address on his papers, and be felt sure of success, He asked some questions concern- ing the last hours of Rose Woodman Donati, but the ‘y would not be of interest to the reader; then he left the house and made his way to Great Jones street. He was soon in the presence of Mrs. Warden, to whom he made known his wishes ‘‘Tam not sure I shall tell you anything.”’ she said. “'The little girl is alive and well, but her present rotector does not want to part with her, or have ier case talked about.” ‘* Not even ef her lawful granddad wanted fer ter make her richer’n Underbilt?” questioned Bob. ** Al! he discarded poor Rose.’ ‘An’ rept ther w hirlwind he sowed. and repented in cioth an’ sack -ashes. like a salted white-peter, Why, he’s a- goin’ ‘round ther city now, a lookin’ fer her every whar.”’ ‘Is that a fact?” “True ez ther temp’rance pl dge.’ ** Then I will not stand in her fight. She was long ago adopted by a poor, but kind, man—a teamster— who loves her like a daughter, but he has always said he hoped she would some day inherit her grand- father’s wealth.’ *O’rect. Who is this hyar benev'lent teamster?”’ “His name is Ben Dukes, and the little girl is called Nan.”’ ‘Nan !” Bob o’ the Bowery repeated the name, utterly, astonished, in a voice like a small cyclone. CHAPTER XVII, THE BOWERY BOY'S TRIUMPH. Bon’s vehemence rather startled the 6" ‘od wom- an,and she remained gazing mutely at him until be got his breath for further remarks, ‘*T ain’t overly sure I ketched onter w’ot ye said, fer ther drum-stick o’ my left ear is fracturated. W'ot was it ye went for ter inform me ‘bout them?” ‘‘ I said that Adam Woodman’s: granddaughter is the adopted child of a teamster named Ben Dukes, and that the girl Lerself is called Nan. " “Great Scott!’ “\Vhat’s the matter?” “Why. / know Nan!” ‘*So much the better.”’ ** She ther heir outlaw? She? rn smoke! Who else was hit by ther’arthquake? S/e an heir-out- law? Sh —Nan? Oh! oh! Ha! ha! ha!” Bob o’ the Bowery was in a mood very unbecom- ing to a detective of the great city of New York but his manner was 60 very comical] that the good woman had to smile. But Boh soon recovered h coolness. * Queer, b’gosh! Why, ehe don’t look like as though she had Itelian blood. She’s got hair redder than that winder-curting.”’ ‘*That's because she resembles her mother. In the child, Rose Woodman’s red hair and other fea- tures are strikingly reproduced, W hile no trace of her half-Italian origin is to be seen.’ ‘Wal, by cricky! ef she looks so much like her marm, then Adam orter see the resemblance!”’ de- clared Bob, as he arose. “I'll ketch onter ther ole gentleman ‘ter one’t!”” He left the h- use and hurried away to get Adam. * Wal, by ericky | ef this hyar ain ‘t ther biggest s’prise perty o’ ther year. Who'd ’a’ tho’ rt Nan was a princess in disguise? Never heard o' no red- headed princesses afore, though Nan is purty enough ter be a royal duke, Gosh | mebdbe I'll turn out ter be ther heir-outlaw o’ England or Staten Island yit!” He socn reached bis quarters, found Mr. Wood man and told him he believed he could take him t¢ some one who could tell him all about his grand daughter, Then he bore him in triumph to Beu Dukes’s house, and ushered him in without any ink- ling of the truth, Greeting Nan in his usuel way, the boy looked to see what effect the meeting had on Adam. The ot Sap eevee y was Yooking at Nan with eyeg open to their fullest capacity. **D’ye see a ghost?” in nocently asked Bob. ‘Great Heavens! who is this girl?’’ Woodman de- manded, ‘‘She’s a pussonal frien’ o’ mine. Why d’ye ask?” ‘* Bob, she is the very image of my daughter Rose! Child, who are you ae “Wal, | ain’é got my pedigree hancy,” Nan re- plied, * but I opine I'ma nee some block, Ez fer a name, call me Nap, an’ I'll be ’round ter all ther Cage pullin’s.”’ , ‘* Who was your mother?’ ‘Can't say. Never knowed her, an’I don’t like ter speak in a case whar ther evidence ain't all in. Them’s my styles.’ ‘ “See yer, boss, » added Bob, “do she really look so meh like yer dead darter?” She is her very image. ** No wonder,”’ declared the Bowery boy, “ fer this rE eee ee — od et “=< oo eee se Oe eae ~