Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 398 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

a 2 ‘¢' The most remarkable thing about the whole matter is that I was not instantly killed. For days afterward I suffered, and my mind was in such a state that I could think of, or do nothing with any interest.” ‘* Well, if such be the case, and as spilt milk is not worth crying over, we will drop the past and think of the future. ‘‘- You have no clew whatever, I suppose?” ‘** Not the slightest.” ‘¢ Then what do you propose?” ‘Tt is to consult about our future plans that I am now in New York.” ‘* Well, give me your ideas on the subject.” ‘“‘Certainly. There is but one way to act, it seems to me.” ** And that is?” ‘‘For me to return to Colorado, take up my headquarters at The Gulch, and there await de- Mire, oom ‘¢ And what do you expect from this?” ‘¢ That I may be able to learn, from the move- ments of Kit Barton, where the place we are in search of is located.” ‘* And if you should succeed?” ‘‘ Why then—well, we would, I fear, be com- pelled to ‘remove’ him, and, he once out of the way, we could enter into peaceable possession of our wealth.” ‘‘ But did you not say he was lately married to Danford’s daughter?” ‘¢ A month ago.” ‘¢ And what about her?” ‘‘ A good wife always follows her husband.” ‘Colton, you are the most villainously and coldly cruel desperado I ever met.” ‘‘You are complimentary.” “Truthful, at all events. ‘But you are right; they must both be done away with, or we will never be safe.” It was long after midnight, and the two men who were thus plotting were seated in a down- town office, with the windows so closely curtain- ed that not & ray of light stole out into the dark- ness of the. street. The hour, the night—which was stormy and blustering—were in perfect accord with the plot against human life which these two men were ee ; Craig Colton, the coolest, most desperate vil- lain that ever drew revolver or stabbed a man heeine his back, was evidently the chief spirit Oo the two, and although Curt Bentley, as his companion was named, some times became ag- essive and spoke to Colton as to an inferior, e evidently feared him, and watched him, wa- rily, as if suspecting something, he knew not ex- actly what. é Bentley was a lawyer, and: in his practice which was extensive, ad amassed a housand facts, which he was evidently disposed to use to further his own ends, He was the head, Colton the arm, of the part- nership. He conceived, Colton executed, and no two men could have been found in all the length and breadth of the metropolis who were more admir- ably suited to each other. “Then,” said Colton, rising, and taking his silk-lined coat from the back of a chair, where he had carelessly flung it on entering, ‘‘it is un- derstood. ‘‘T return to Colorado and there will remain until something turns up. You shall hear from me from Ds to tie and may Re « ae my keeping you thoroughly posted. ou have no- thing further to tell me? For a moment the other did not answer, but went to a small safe in the corner, and opened it, taking from one of the compartments Inside a worn pocket-book, stuffed with papers. After examining these carefully, he drew from the package a half-sheet of note-paper, and re- turned to his former seat. ‘‘ Here,” said he, ‘is the mostimportant of all the writings that I have that bear on the subject we were discussing. Itcome into my possession by accident, and although of not much value in its present condition, may be utilized some time. Iam not very good at unraveling riddles or anything of that sort, and after much study, ave it up in despair.’ ‘‘That is one of my strongest holds; let’s see it a moment.” ‘‘Not to-night; this is too valuable to part with, and is the only thing I have that you are not familiar with. IfI should give it to you who knows what might be the result? You wi rdon my frankness, Colton, but I have not e highest opinion of your integrity and honor.” ‘‘What do you mean?” thundered the other, his face becoming livid from the insult, ‘Exactly what I say. I firmly believe that Kid-Glove Kit and Pard. ou would be only too glad to throw me over- dard, did I give you the opportunity, and had I nothing with which to hold you in check. So, for fear of accidents, I will again return this to the safe, and when I shall have heard from you regarding your movements, and in black and white have proof of your par pa! in this plot, then, and net until then, I will send you a copy of this, retaining the original in case of trouble.” And then, rising, he once more walked to the safe, and was about to replace the scrap of paper in a separate compartment, when a slight noise behind him caused him to turn his head. Colton had risen and was leaping toward him, a long, murderous-looking knife in his hand, his eyes blazing and the look of an assassin stamped on his cruel face. Bentley, realizing that his life was in immi- nent danger, raised his hand and tried in vain to ward off the already descending blow, but it was too late! Changing the direction of his stroke like light- ning, Colton’s steel flashed under the u lifted arm of the other, and was buried to the hilt in his side, when he fell to the carpet, his hand pressed to his side, whence the blood gushed in torrents, and lay groveling in the agony of ap- proaching death. Picking up a newspaper from an adjacent, chair, Colton coolly wiped the blood from his knife, stooped and unclasped the clutching fingers that still gras the paper which was the price of Bentley’s life, placed the half-sheet carefully in his pocket, and Herning out the gas, left the room, the spring-lock fastening the pm as he closed it, and quietly left the building. A passing cab, returning empty from Brook- lyn, was hailed, and in it Colton was soon driven to a fashionable up-town hotel, where he secured his key and with a pleasant ‘‘ good-night,” or rather ‘‘ good-morning,” to the clerk, he went up-stairs to his rooms, closed the door and blinds, lighted the gas, and with a cigar between his lips, drew an easy-chair to the fire and, taking the torn paper from his pocket, began to read it carefully. CHAPTER [I]. THE TORN LETTER. THE sheet was torn, in a jagged manner from top to bottom, and was crumpled on one side as if a rude hand had see it and snatched it away frcm the person holding it. Colton smoothed it out carefully and holding it Os the light fell fair upon it, read these words: “My Dear CHILD m7 happen to me, I wri for you, that you the mine which wi From a point nor are familiar wi south-east, an one hundred ding into in the be Chip awa it can be ra Through the open Follow on down the find ere tha attention, which inves * Your loving f ‘** Henry DA’ When he had read and re-read these words and portions of words, again and again, Colton allowed his hand to drop on his knee, and gaz- ing into the glowing bed of coals in the grate, pondered long and svasnps At length, he roused himself and, removing his cigar from his lips, muttered: ‘‘T might have saved myself the trouble of giving Bentley his quietus, for all the benefit that is liable to arise from the possession of this scrap. I-am more in the dark than ever; but Curt was getting decidedly arrogant and used some language which no gentleman could en- dure. He deserved a lesson and it was taught him in first-class style. And, besides all this, he is much better out of the way, for in the event of the successful termination of my scheme I would have been: compelled to halve the pro- ceeds with him, which would have been rob- bing myself. And then, he was a poor part- ner to have; his sickening qualms of conscience invariably disgusted me. I’m glad he’s dead.” And with a yawn, Colton arose and was about to undress, when his eye caught sight of the scrap of paper that had fluttered to the floor while he had been thinking. ‘‘ As dead men tell no tales, so burned letters reveal no secrets, I will reduce this to ashes be- fore I seek my downy couch.” And he picked up the torn document, and a - ( 2 ad : - “a ‘ . i” - Ps « . ’ er hx A \ ‘Ne sha f * Se OS wee Se ee ie . £ leaning over the fire, was about to drop it into the blaze, when he drew back. ‘‘ There’s no telling of what service this may yet be to me,” he continued; ‘‘so I had best pre- serve it for future reference. With study anda thorough knowledge of the country, I may be able to utilize it,” and carefully placing it in an inner compartment of his pocket-book, he quickly undressed, and getting into bed, after putting out the light, was soon sleeping as peacefully as a child. The sun was streaming brightly into his room when he awoke, a few hours later, for the storm had ceased and the air was clear, cold and crisp. In a short time he wasseated at the breakfast table, with a pile of newspapers at his side, at one or the other of which he glanced from time to time, while discussing his breakfast. Suddenly an item caught his eye in which he seemed to be interested, and turning down the page he read it carefully. he paragraph was in the column devoted to the movements of distinguished persons, and was thus worded: ‘‘“Mr. Christopher Barton, the young Colorado millionaire,who has been stopping at the Windsor for a month past, having come East on bis weddin trip, returned to the West to-day, acccmpanied by his charming bride. Mr. Barton’s interests in the Cen- tennial State, are so erormous, that they demand his personal attevtion; but he hopes soon to have matters in such shape that he can return and reside in New York permanently.”’ ‘¢ So!” murmured Colton, ‘‘my young friends leave to-day for The Gulch, in all probability, and evidently intend to secure Dainty’s fortune. I would give much to know if that tin box con- tained the clew tothe mine. If it did, all the better; if they find it, I will be or. hand to take possession. I'll go West with them, provided they do not leave before this evening.” And having finished his breakfast, he left the dining-room, went up-stairs and changed his coat, which was a fashionably cut Prince Albert, for a walking-coat, drew on his gloves and left the house. Walking up-town some little distance, avoiding as far as possible the principal streets, not car- ing, apparently not wishing to meet anyone with whom he was acquainted, secured a passing cab and was driven far up Third avenue to Harlem. Here he paid his coachman, and again set out on foot, continuing on near the river until he arrived at a small shanty, which, from the vari- ous signs it bore, was evidently a restaurant of the lower order. . Entering, and casting a rapid glance around he was relieved to see that the dark room was untenanted save by a small boy, whose look of shrewd intelligence gave indication of a precocity far beyond the ordinary. ‘¢ Where's Jim?” asked Colton, approaching the stained counter. ‘““ Gone down-town.” ‘“Coming back soon?” ‘“ Not till late.” ‘‘ Any one up-stairs?” iT Nup. ” ‘‘ Then give me the key of the back room, and come up and light a fire. It’s cold enough to freeze a polar bear.” ‘* An’ who'll tend bar while I’m trottin’ ’round a-waitin’ on you?” T will.” ‘Yes, and git away with ther till!” A sounding slap across the boy’s cheek was the only answer to this impertinence, and the young vagabond went flying to the other end of the room, while he uttered a hundred grumbling and growling threats. But he said nothing aloud, and apparently en- tirely subdued, took a key from a half-hidden ot and handed it to Colton without a word, The man then left the room by_a side door, and mounting the dark stairs outside, was soon heard to open and shut a door overhead, and then all became still, while the boy, after mut- tering to himself for a time, seated himself in the corner, and was soon immersed in the pages of a story of the West. CHAPTER III. A COMPLETE DISGUISE. Ir was probably an hour after the time when Colton had disappeared when the door through which he had gone out again opened, and a man, of apparently sixty years, entered the bar-room. - The place was still deserted, for most of its patrons were night-birds, and only met there when the shades of evening had descended and the lights flickered down the avenue. The boy in charge had fallen asleep, and noth- : of => \ -_ a.