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Pulp Fiction, 1885 · page 4 of 16

Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 432 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 432 — page 4: Pulp Fiction, 1885

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minutes more, after which Mr. Duncan walked on down the street, leaving the broker and de- tective together. But the expression of his face changed as he walked away. An uneasy look came upon it, which quickly became hard and implacable. Some muttered words came from his lips. He walked briskly forward, his indolent man- ner changing to activity as he procesced. Soon leaving the avenue he hastened dovn one of the side streets, looking heedfully behind him as if in fear of being followed. An hour afterward found him seated in a rather sparely-furnished apartment, in company with another personage. The room was adorned with pictures of sport- ing scenes, ranging from horse races to prize fights, some of them being engravings cut from the weekly papers. Guns, fishing tackle, box- ing gloves, etc., aided to stamp the occupant of the room as a sporting character. This personage, who sat in a well-worn shoot- ing jacket opposite his visitor, wore an aspect of affected gentility which was evidently as- sumed. His broad and vulgar face had a sinis- ter expression. George addressed him by the name of Tom Spicer. ‘*By Jupiter, you don’t tell me that?’ he cried, with an oath. ‘‘ A spy on our track?” ‘* As sure as we are living men!” ‘‘ And in two weeks more we could snap our fingers at them all. This won’t do. We must tap this lark before he salts our soup.” ‘He’s a keen one, Tom.” ‘‘Soam I!” ejaculated Tom. plan? If you have, name it.” A long conversation ensued, at the end of which the confederates rose, took their hats, and left the room. ‘You have it, then?” reached ‘the street. ‘‘ The place, corner of—” ‘*'Yes, yes,” cried Tom, hastily interrupting. ‘‘Name no names or places. You get your work in. I never go back on mine.” nuey peecee with significant looks. George turned Lis steps toward Broadway. Tom plunged down the East river side of the city, making his way through streets that were any- thing but sweet and savory. Two hours afterward found him in a place to which we must follow him. It was a low, dingy room. Its walls and ceiling had been once white, but were now so covered with stains of beer and other substances as to give them a dirty brown hue. The floor looked as if it had not n scrubbed since the house was built. A table occupied the middle of the room. It was well supplied with beer and whisky glasses, Around it tt three men, one of them being Tom Spicer. Yet Tom was hardly recognizable. He had thrown off his gentility, and was dressed in a sort of rough sailor arb, with a knotted blue handkerchief around his neck. The expression of his face had changed with his dress, and he looked like a cross between the rough and the h : Pilis two companions were decided roughs. They were hard-faced rascals, with beetle brows, and stubbly beards, who looked like fit candida es for the House of Correction. Yet they had shrewd and unscrupulous faces. They were evidently just the stuff for dark deeds that needed wit and boldness. ‘¢T’m here to put you on the lay,” remarked Tom, resuming the conversation, which had been broken by the entrance of a waiter with drinks, ‘It’s nothing to me, but I like to throw a good thing in a good fellow’s way.” ‘You’re deuced kind and charitable,” growled one of his companions. ‘* That tike won’t bite!” exclaimed the other, with a knowing wink. ‘‘ Port your helm, ship- mate, and take another tack.” Tom sipped quietly at his beer. He knew the kind of stuff he had to deal with. ‘‘Tt don’t make an ounce of difference to me,” ‘*Have you a ueried George, as they e hour, sharp twelve. he calmly said. ‘‘I’m only giving you a little opening into the ways of New York society. If you don’t see my blind, Pi draw. But, there’s a big pool for the lads that’s got the heart to chip in mgt ‘Oh! tip that gaff! Stop sailin’ round Robin Hood’s barn. Come to anchor and show your colors, or we'll vamose.” ‘Right for you, Jacob,” broke in the other. ‘‘T don’t like falc that ain’t got no backbone,” ‘‘-You’re a jolly pair of muffs, you are,” re- joined Tom, looking at them critically. ‘' Wet bina lips. lads. Tl let you into the thing, any- ow. I’m going to tell you a little story I’ve heard, It’s a sort of short novel, you know, | | | There ain’t any truth init. You mustn’t think of believing it.” “Oh. no!” ‘*Of course not!” laughed the ruffians over their glasses, ‘* Well, suppose, then, there was a rich for- | eigner in this town. One of the nobility. An Italian count.” ‘Oh! but that’s unpossible. sich,” winked one of the ruffians. ‘*And two prime jokers, like you, were to snatch that Italiano and nail him in quod, Not to squeeze him, mind. Italian counts don’t squeeze well. They ain’t lined with cash,” ‘‘That’s a purty sell you’re pumping out, Mister Spicer. Who wants to grab for dried- out lemon-skins?” growled the fellow called Ja- cob. ** Ain’t you got no juicier persimmon than that in your bag?” ‘*Let’s get back to our mutton,” resumed Tom. ‘* We might let on our Italian count was a favorite in rich New York society. The la- dies think he’s a jewelofa man. And the men swear he’s a jolly lark, of true-blue blood. Well, the count slips out of sight. Then there’s a big time in society. Noble blood isn’t very plenty on this side—d’ye see?” ‘‘In course we see, Jacob?” ** And advertise as we'll slice off his nose and ears if it ain’t paid.” ‘'You’re lads with ideas,” rejoined Tom, with an air of satisfaction. ‘‘ Society will bleed for its darling count. Ask a good figure, so as to leave room to fall, you see. ‘‘This is prime whisky, Mr. Spicer. It’s ueer how you kin imbibe them slops of beer. hat’s a very pretty story you’ve been telling us ? There ain’t no We ax a ransom, eh, ‘* Make it all up yourself?” ‘* You bet. I’m good at that. Why, I could stretch it out a mile long if Iwanted. Tll give vou the second chapter now. At twelve o’clock or thereabouts, on the night of October 20th— that’s only to-morrow night by the by—our Italian goes past the corner of —— street. There’s only one gentleman with him. Twomen jump out sudden from a dark corner. The count gets a hard tap that lays him out. The other gentleman shows fight for a minute, and then makes tracks. He is so scared that he forgets to ive the alarm till heis three blocksaway. Then e yells out and fetches a policeman. They go back, but there is nocount to be found. The noble foreigner has vamosed. The next day the papers are full of the story, and society is all in astew. Then, a day or two after, there comes an advertisement, offering toset the count loose for a ransom, and promising to lay his nose cn the City Hall steps if the cash don’t come within two weeks from date. There must be time enough for society to. work, you see. What say you to that, gentlemen, for a neat second chapter?” queried Tom, in conclusion, as he emptied his glass, ‘““Tt’s very gay and pretty,” answered Jacob, nodding his head approvingly. ‘*T never see’d nobody with sich an sey ng tion,” hroke in the other, with a hoarse laugh. ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe couldn’t ha’ told a yarn better.” ‘t But there’s a p’int or two of fillin’ in wanted,” rejoined Jacob. ‘‘ You won’t kick ag’in’ a hint or two "bout the make-up of that little ro- mance?” ‘‘ Westory-tellers are always open; Pile in,” remarked Tom, with a grin of satisfaction. ‘Three heads are three times better than one.” The conversation continued for some time in the same ridiculous strain, the ruffians asking and Tom answering questions with the affecta- tion of its being all a romance. Finally he rose and pushed back his chair. ‘‘T must say that you area prime pair of lads, with wide-awake ideas,” he remarked. ‘‘ Why, ll filled out the pict fora very neat novel. ever mind the drinks; it’s my treat. Are you going?” ‘“'No, we want to confab a bit more,” ‘Then suppose I send you up another jorum from the bar?” ‘Whisky straight, make it. Look out you don’t slip on the stairs, Mr, Spicer.” ‘* T never slip in dark places,” answered Tom, significantly. ‘‘I know something about navi- gating, my jollies.” He left the room in high satisfaction. He had succeeded in his object without committing him- self. Whatever might happen there was no proof that he was concerned init, Tom Spicer was sharp enough to look out for number one. If we may take a quick step forward we will conduct the reader to an hour uear midnight of Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. ee ee oo EEE eee EE ee et ——— — es the next evening, and toa room in a disrcnuta- ble dwelling on the east side of the city. The group of persons present exnbracca ‘hose we have met in the club-house, with tie excep- tion of Will Emory Count Ormond was there, and in one of his gayest moods. The party had been drinking freely, and were ready for any wild freak or adventure. ‘This is getting stale, flat and tiresome,” cried George Duncan, springing to his feet. ‘* We're wasting the hours of a sweet night in no better amusement than getting drunk. It’s just the night to tip over a belated parson. Come, lads, are you in for a frolic?” ‘We do like frolics, we sons of blue Italy,” answered the count, gayly. ‘“ We're with you, Duncan. Lead the way,” came in a chorus from the others. In a few minutes they were in the street, laughing wildly as they made their way along the nearly deserted thoroughfare, and keenly alive to every chance for mischief. A. half-hour of this sort of amusement, how- ever, brought them into contact with a stern policeman. Some of the party were full of bot- tle valor enough to a conclusions with this guardian of the law. It looked as if trouble might ensue, and George, who was quite sober, drew the count away. ‘“Come,” he said. ‘These idiots will get themselves in the lock-up. There is such a thing as going a step too far.” e count followed him with a haste that showed that he did not care to get into that kind of trouble. They went rapidly forward through streets with which George seemed thoroughly familiar, though they were in the most unfashionable part of the city. ‘“‘There goes the policeman’s rattle,” he re- marked as they reached a dark and deserted corner. .‘‘ Stop here a minute, count. [I’m out of breath.” ‘‘T do think you have made me walk much too fast,” answered the count. ‘‘In Italy we never do walk so fast.” ‘‘In this country we do not do things in the Italian way, Count Ormond. We have ourown time and way for everything.” He put a strong emphasis on the words “‘ time and way.” It seemed almost as if they were signal words, for at that instant two dark fig- ures sprung out from the shadows of the corner, and confronted the young roisterers. ‘‘Toll, my larks!” they cried, as they sprung forward, brandishing cluks ‘*Back, you hounds!” exclaimed George fiercely, using his light cane to ward off blows, But the attack had been too sudden for de- fense. In an instant the cane was dashed from his hand. At the same moment a hard blow fell on the head of Count Crmord, which stretched him senseless on the pavement. George sprung back from the blow aimed at him, turned and ran. He continued his course for two or three blocks without giving a cry of alarm. Here he met a policeman, to whom he told, with an air of great hurry and nervousness, the story of the dastardly assault. They returned hastily together to the point, butin vain. The count and his assailants had disappeared. The only sign of the attack was a large spot of blood, which marked the pavement where the vic- tim’s head had struck. CHAPTER IV. THE AFFAIR OF THE RANSOM. THE next day dawned, The newspapers came out full of the outrage of the preceding night. An Italian nobleman, on a visit to New York, Count Ormond, had been waylaid by ruffians, knocked senseless, and sririted away. Something must be done at once. The author- ities must use every means to recover the illus- trious captive. What would Europe say if her nobles were allowed to be thus kidnapped in the streets of the great American city? Some of the papers gave details of the assault —a little colored by the imagination of the writers. According to them the count and his comrade, Mr. George Duncan, had been forced to fight with a half-dozen burly ruffians, until the count was floored by a blow, and Mr. Dun- can had to fly for his life. . Much praise was given to Mr. Duncan for his courage, and the promptness with which he brought officers to the rescue, and much sur- prise that the villains had so soon succeeded in carrying off and concealing their victim. It soe not be said that this news made anim- mense sensation in the fashionable circles of New York. The count had been received with the warm enthusiasm with which American J00KS;com™