Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 426 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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along, and passed them, nodding to Ralph, but pay- ing no attention whatever to Frank. When he had driven on, Frank Jamison shook his clinched fist after him, ‘*Go on, foolish man, if you t'ink you are well off!’ he hissed, savagely. ‘‘It’s Jittle 1 owe you—or Se either, Ralph, for you know that uncle John Jan Gelder. was supposed to have left money be- hind, to be tag to our benefit.”’ “I know there was such a story, Frank, but I guess it was all nonsense, for it never could be roved that uncle John owned a cent in the world, eyond the old house on the bluff, at the time of his suicide.” ‘* Because, it was Lennox Jamison who discovered and cut down the body, and if anything was left be- hind, itis probable he took care of it, and destroyed all papers.”’ ‘You should not talk this way, Frank. It is not just, or right.” “Oh! well, have your own way, if you like—-it matters not to me, nor does it change my opinion, a particle. All you need do is to see that you keep clear of Ivy Cottage.”’ **Don’t fear, Frank. I shall not bother your in- amoaita; but for God’s sake, and your brother's sake, do not stoop to do anything rash, or criminal.”’ “Don’t lecture me. Vil do as I please about that!’ Frank declared, independently, and turning, he walked swiftly away toward home, Ralph followed, thoughtfully, and ata much slow- er gait. In the mean time, the judge drove on, toward Ivy Cottage, The grim expression of his countenance lifted somewhat, as he held his prancing steeds from trotting, but the light of his cold gray eyes was none the less stern and intense—eyes that were fur- tive in their glance, and suggested that there were few if any ennobling passions in his heart. Ile was an imposing-looking person, however, and as he drove through the Gypsy camp, he and his cquivage attracted much attention. Amo.zg others who saw him, without being seen, was a man who stood partly in the shadow of one of the warons. He gave alow whistle of surprise, and his teeth went together with a click, Judge Jamison drove on, to Ivy Cottage, without knowledge of this fact, however. Arrived at t.ecottage, he got out of the carriage and tied his horses; then walked up the graveled ath to the vine and rose embowered porch, where Miss Priscilla Tanglefoot was seated, in her clean ro ea wrapper, picking over some raspberries, for ea, Miss Priscilla was a typical old maid, Forty odd years had passed over her head—if, in- deed, not fifty, odd—and left her a tall, angular wo- man, with a spare amount of flesh, and a thin, vine- gary visage, with prominent high cheek-bones, a pointed chin, and iron gray hair. ‘* Good-evening, Priscilla,” Judge Jamison salut- ed, seating himself on the lower step. ‘* This has been a scorching hot day!” ‘*Yes, but we have not minded it so much, here, judge—we have so much shade,” * Yes. indeed. You madea wise choice in making this your home. I see you have another Gypsy band, down the lane! Why do you allow so many of those vagabonds to camp there, Prisciila?” “Well, you see, judge, the lane never gets turned to any real account, otherwise; and, Ill tell you, TI make quite a few pennies off the Gyrsies, by selling them farm products. They generally have money, and pay for what they get. And every penny counts, nowadays, judge—every penny counts.” ‘“Yes, I suppose it does. But, what’s all these “eae going to benefit you, if you never enjoy em?’ “Oh! well, Dolly will have them, you know. Everything will go to Dolly.” “By the way, where is my fair Dolly, now?”’ ‘*Dear me! she’s up-stairs, lying down with sick headache, judge. She would persist in going to see the Gypsies, and I expect it overcame her,” The judge slightly frowned. “T don’t care about having her running about ‘these encampments!”’ he said. ‘“* There is nothing ‘beneficial to be learned at them. Has Frank been here within the past three or four hours?” 7) 7 “Tt is well. Do you think she saw him at the camp?” * ‘ am quite sure she didn’t. She always tells me, ‘when she sees him. Then, too, she is never down- spirited, after meeting him.” She is down-spirited, then, when she does not meet him?” “ Sort of.”’ ‘‘ Well, she will have to get over this, I’ve settled \Frank’s case, effectually, I think.” ** Indeed!” ; “Yes, You see I gave him the hint, the other day, {that I desired him to discontinue his visits, here,” “T know; but he came,”’ : “Well, I had an interview with him to-day, and commanded him to keep away from here. told him thatl was engaged to Do ly, and that we were to be married, within the month.” ‘¢ What did he say ?”’ “Practically, nothing. He appeared rather dazed ~ walked out of my presence without the violent manifestation I had looked for.” “Likely, then, he will not come any more.” “J think not. If he does come, they must not ” ect. **T will try to prevent it, judge. * Of course, like the sensible woman you are. You (see, if a meeting can be avoided, it may be the means — yt } to “ £ . NL ANE CGR GE I i Ae ers ined deal ot owe, a, -- . | Dik <7 ies opti on gebboaet btt pplleeapaoed Masato oe 6 | Sam Slabsides, the Begvar-Boy Detective. of causing much trouble. Do you think Dolly has quite settled herself down to the fact that she is to marry me?” ‘Tam pretty sure. She is a sensible girl, and I keep praising you, and counseling her, until Il am satisfied all will be well.” ‘*it would be a great disgrace if she should back out. I have publicly announced our engagement, and made arranyvements for starting on o'r Euro- pean tour, immediately after our marriage.” sé Yes ”? ‘* And Iam anxious for the day to come. Yousee I s:all not be positively sure of the girl, until we are legally bound, Do you think there is any like- lihood she could be urged to name a sooner date, Priscilla?’’ ‘“‘Tdon’t know, I’m sure Why sooner?” ‘Well, you see, my dreams haven’t been of the leasant order, lately. I need not explain more, ut you can understand. 1 shall not be positive- ly easy until I put the Atlantic between me and America.”’ “Then,in case anything should happen, all the trouble—” ‘‘Nonsense!’’the judge interrupted. ‘ But, let’s drop the subject. l1t’s not pleasant to dwell upon. Go call Dolly and tell herI want to see her.” ‘¢ Hadn’t you better jet her rest, judge? Her head aches, and [ can tell you, from experience, that sick headache is not agreeable.” ‘* Bah!’ was the heartless reply; ‘‘she must not have time to rest. Rest gererates thought, and thought might play the devil with my calculations. Besides, I’ve got a present for her.” Priscilla set aside her berry dishes, rose and enter- tered the house. She was gone several minutes, but when she re- turned she was accompanied by her niece. Dolly was looking little less pale than when she had emerged from the tent of the Gypsy * Sapte and she scarcely nooded, when she saw the judge. **Ah! dear; Tam sosorry to hear you are not feeling well,’”’ ke said, making room for her on the step. ‘‘ You should take great care nct to fatigue yourseif with over-exertion, for what should Ido were I to lose my bonnie little betrothed?” ‘* Hunt up another. I suppose,’’ Dolly replied, pass- ing her hand over her brow, wearily. ‘Tut! tut! That is idle jest, deafest, for you know I might search the world over and not find one who could fill your place in my heart. ‘ee, I have brought you a little gift as a token of my affec- tion.’ And he placed a magnificent velvet-and-gold watcb- case in her hands, at the same time touching a spring and causing the lid to fly open. Inside, among the satin cushions, nestled a beau- tiful ladies’ watch and chain, of gold, elaborately set with tiny sparkling diamonds, It must have cost several hundred dollars at the least, and was a gift fit for a princess. **Isn’t it prety? the judge asked, eagerly. “Very,” Dolly replied, oddly—** too prety,by half, for me to wear.” ‘‘Say not that, darling. ‘There is nothing too pretty for you, and when wereturn from our wedding tour, you shall have the handsomest horses and car- riages, money can procure, ‘“* By the way, that calls to mind, the object of my visit here, to-day. I have learned, that, by sailing considerably sooner than we hed originally intended we will arrive in England in time for the Derby races, Which Isuppose you may have_heard, is an aristocratic event, in British life. So I want to ask youifwe cannot arrange it to be married without delay, so as to take in one of the great attractions of our European tour?” ‘*No, I cannot consent to an earlier marriage day than the one already settled upon,”’ Dolly said, without hesitation, *“ But, why not? Sufficient costumers can be pro- vided to fit out your wardrobe within a few days’ time.’ “Tt is not that. The time is short enough, thatI am to remain single, and I would ‘twere even longer. So I cannot think of making it evem\a day less.” She spoke firmly, and the judge had sense enough to know that he would not gain anything, by persis- tency. ‘Oh! well, then, we will try and omit the Derby. But would you not like to accompany my daughter Jessie to the sea-shore for a couple of weeks, and stop at New York, on your way back, for your trous- seau? This humdrum life at home must be dull for one so young and vivacious.”’ “You are very kind, sir, but I prefer to remain with aunty, until my marriage. Indeed, I think T should scarcely appreciate the European trip, [am such a home body,” ““Oh! that is because you have never traveled any. Once you travel you will like it. I will not de- tain you longer, dear, if your head aches, forI feel for you, But, if I were you, I would not go tothe Gypsy camp, again, Tlike not the looks of those swarthy vagabonds, Say the best one can, of them, they are most undesirabie persons.”’ Dolly did not make answer to this advice, but re- tired to her own room, ee judge looked somewhat anxious, after her de- arture. ‘*She looks more worried, than sick,’’ he remark- ed, to Priscilla. ‘* Confound it! can it be that she regrets her promise, and is pining after Frank?” “Indeed, I don’t know, judge—indeed I don’t know. Girls are so strange, now, to what they used to be.” ‘* Well, I'm blamed if Iknow what todo. Iamin fidgets lest something happens, You see she refuses en earlier ceremony!’’ **T had an idea she would.” ‘*And to me it looks suspicious—as if she were stillin love with Frank, and was loth to place the barrier of matrimony in the way of her freedom to enjoy his society.” **It may be so.”’ ‘*Something must be done!’’ be gritted. ‘ It will neverdo for me to lose, now How would it do to keep ker shut up In her room?” Priscilla smiled—one of those vinegary smiles, it was, for which she was locally noted. ‘That would end all your chances of ever making her your wife,” she said. ~ “Prue, I might have known that. Well, I wilk see I must do something.”’ And with this conclusion he bid Priscilla adieu, got into his carriage, and drove away toward **Larchmont.”’ His face was dark with commingled passion and anxiety. *T do not like the outlook,” he muttered. ‘*Frank’s words, to-night, prove that he is hence- forth my enemy, and he may cause me trouble, Something must be done—but what? He has led such an exceptionally good life that no charge can be brought against him that would make it necessary forhim to leave this vicinity, to get out of the way of the law. If—’’ But he did not finish the sentence. ‘* What the “if’’ might have implied could only be left to conjecture. But the re glitter which flashed in the judge’s: eye, suggested that some evil thought had occurred. to him, which, if put into execution, would rid him of the cause of his present anxiety. CHAPTER VII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY. Sam SLABSIDES accompanied Floss, the Gypsy girl, to the vicinity of the tribe’s camp, and there took leave of her, she promising to 9é6 Him on the mor- row, at the deserted mansion, if possible. After she left him,Sam began to cast about for some place to spend the remainder of the night, for he had no desire to return to the ghosts’ head- quarters. Shelter of some sort was to be desired, in preference to sleeping on the damp ground. Following the road for a short distance, he found what was evidently a hay-barn, and not located very close to any habitation. After scouting about the place, he discovered an. open door, and soon after was ensconced upon a mow of newly-mown hay. which made the most. comfortable bed he bad enjoyed in months. Here he lay. for fully an hour, in speculation as to what had become of old Felix Jacobi. “Fer a rip-ripe myst’ry et takes the tar-heel!”’ he muttered; ‘‘andJ’m a Philymedelfy magistrate ef I know w’ot ter make uv it. Old Felix has evaporated from view, like steam from an engine. What makes it so curious is cause he allus did jest as I sed, be- fore. Ef I told him ter set, while I went on a forag- ing experdishun, he allus sot, an’ 1 found him thar when I cum back. Then, too, he wer’ purty well fagged out ter-night, an’ he wouldn't ’a’ felt much like waltzin’ off on his own hook—no, sir-ee! ‘*Thar’s some ’mighty queer goin’s on up at thet: ‘ouse on the hill; an’ ’tain’t no use talkin’. I b’lieve old Felix hev been gobble up by somebody or suthin” right bout them premises, But, w’ot fer? He ain’t wu’th two cents in money, 'ca’se I’ve got the seven cents we captured to-day. He ain’t no good fer soap-fat, "cause he’s leaner than a Jersey shrimp, an’ he ain’t the lost Charlie Ross, ’ca’se he’s too old, Don’t reckon the doctors would steal him fer his: skeleton, an’ he wouldn’t elope wid a pretty gal, ’cause he couldn’t see what colorshe was. Sow’ot’s: a feller ter think? ‘Then how ‘bout thet ghost racket? My Gypsy mash let on ske didn’t b’lieve in ghosts, but them last yowls made’r kinder pale ’round the gills Guess she’s got a different opine now. But ther’s some perts o’ that aire ghost racket w’ot don’t jibe, ‘* How the dickens is er floatin’ speerit, w’ot’s thin- ner thun er ten-cent zephyr, goin’ ter pick up two twenty pound chairs, an’ carry ‘em inter a parlor? An’ how’s sech a ¢ritter goin’ ter haul cff an’ hit er feller a crack *longside the jaw wi’ ther force o° & Sullivan? ‘Pears ter me, too, thet them ’ere ghosts weren’t trubbled wi’ Consumption, ther way they yell. But—hello!” This exclamation was caused by hearing a groan, To such a state of excitement had the young tramp’s nerves already been wrought up that night, that the sound caused a chill to run down bis back, It was undoubtedly a groan, and an unearthly one at that. As near as Sam could judge, the sound came from the barn floor, at the opposite end of the building from the door where he had gained entrance, ‘*] wonder what's the next thing on the pro- mme to frighten a feller out o’ his wits?” he owled. “Can et be the ghosts hev follered me eer? Don’t reckon et was a ghost what give thet groan. Sounded like some feller as hed a gripe thro’ eatin’ watermellon.” , A moment later there reached his hearing another groan, similar to the first. ; “There et goesag’in! ‘Tain’t no ghost. Mebbe somebody’s hurt!”’ He had brought his lantern with him, unlit. Groping about, he soon found a beam on which he could strike a match, and he had the lantern litin a jiffy. Then he slid from the mow to the floor. As he did so, the light he carried shone upon @ startling spectacle. Lying upon the floor, face upward,and covere °] 4