Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 432 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

~_ * . eB eee ee ee SOP ge ye eee = e 9 J ° — he — ee RB trust, I will give him my dead body. If my honor dies, I die with it. Silas Middleton can- not live disgraced.” CHAPTER V. IN TIGHT QUARTERS. WE must return to Count Ormond, and to the night of the abduction. As we have said, no trace of the villains or of their prisoner had been found, although the police had made a thorough search of every suspicious place within several blocks of the locality of the outrage. There was a good reason for this. They fail- ed to find the missing man, simply because he was not there. His abductors were no new hands at the business, and had not performed their dangerous work without preparation. The count had received so stunning a blow that he remained senseless, otherwise he would have felt himself quickly lifted into a carriage, and heard the sound of rapid wheels, Still in- sensible he was soon after removed to a boat, and the carriage rolled away empty. The hoat was rowed out on the waters of the East river. For an hour or more it continued its course, and then put toshore. Another hour found the unconscious prisoner in a place where he was not likely to be found by the police, and from which he would not find it easy to es- cape. he next morning had dawned before the un- lucky nobleman recovered his senses. He came slowly to his wits, with a dazed brain and an aching brow. His head throbbed as if it would split with pain, and his veins seemed full of liquid fire. He lay on a hard couch, where he had been left by his captors. For an hour the injured man lay there, with no very clear idea of where ho was, or what had happened. He only knew that he was in bit- ter pain, and that he was not in his own room. A dense darkness surrounded him on first awakening. This decreaed as the morning dawned. A growing light made its way into the room. Yet this light did not come through the win- dows. These were firmly closed. The light came through a narrow transom over the door, which appeared to be the only means of lighting and ventilating the room. Slowly the mystified senses of the prisoner came back. As his eyes grew accustomed to the faint light he perceived a washstand,with pitch- er and basin, at the foot of the bed. He rose, staggered across to the nearest win- dow, and sought to thrust open the shutter. The effort was in vain. It resisted his strength. The shutter was evidently firmly secured. For the first time a realization of the situation came to the prisoner’s dazed brain. He turned to the pitcher, poured the basin full of water, and thoroughly bathed his aching and fevered head. The cool water was refreshing, and he dipped his face in it again and again. It seemed to wash the cobwebs from his brain, and a recol- lection of the events of the preceding night dawned upon his memory. He recalled the ruffianly assault, the hard blow he had received, the momentary sense of pain, and his heavy fall to the pavement. From that moment forward everything was a blank, He gazed around the room in which he stood, with eyes of keen intelligence. ‘‘ By Apollo and Jupiter and all the rest of the saints,” he declared, with a pure English accent, ‘‘T'm in for it! They’ve scored one on me, It’s the first time in his life that the count—ha! ha! —ever was caught in a trap like this. And how Iam toget out of it is a question not to be settled in a jiffy.” He seated himself on the edge of the bed and fell into a deep train of thought. The cold water had had a remarkable eficct in relieving his throbbing head, and he was as wide-awake again as ever in his life. He ran over in his mind the whole events of the preceding night. The wild frolic, the en- counter with the policeman, his departure from his roistering companions in company with George Duncan. Then he recalled their halting at a dark corner, the remark made by his com- ion, the springing outof the ruffians, and the rrible blow he had received ere he could take any measure to defend himself. ‘Where is Duncan?” he asked’ himself. ‘‘ Was he served the same sauce? Is he a prisoner in some other room in this house?” His lip curled, while an expression of doubt and suspicion marked his face. “*T rather calculate not. I fancy that my — eee eee — oe ee ae Fe ed - — good friend Duncan has a deeper hand in this business than he would care to show. Very likely he thinks Count Ormond a good one to get out of the way. And perhaps he is not es wrong. I calculate to be something of a thorn in that young gentleman’s side. There’s a turn in the longest lane, as Mr. George Duncan may find before this little game is played out.” He was roused from his reflection by the open- ing of a sliding panel in the door. Somethin was pushed in and placed on a small shelf fix on the inside of the door. Then the panel closed. with a sharp sound, and low footsteps could be heard retreating. The prisoner sprung quickly up and approach- ed the door. The room was gloomy, yet enough light came in through the transom to render all objecis visible. He perceived on the shelf a = waiter, covered with dishes containing ood. ‘*That’s not a bad idea,” he muttered. ‘I’ve been hunerierin my time; but I may need all my strength, and I can’t keep it without eat- ing. He removed the food to a table that occupied one corner of the room. Here he drew up a chair. There was a moment’s hesitation as the thought of poison came tohis mind. But he shook his head decisively. ‘*Tf it had been that lay I would not be alive now. They had their chances. It is not the corpse game they are operating.” With no further hesitation he attacked the food. Count Ormond was evidently a person of wit and resolution. He was not the man to be scared by a shadow. If he was an Italian he had learned the Yan- kee way of eating, for he cleared the platter of its contents witha rapidity that would have ng credit to a down-town merchant at his unch., Then he rose, heaped the dishes on the waiter, and replaced the latter on the shelf. ‘‘T might as well take things easy for them,” he muttered. ‘*‘ They’ve got the upper hand now. <A wise prisoner cultivates his jailer. It will be time enough to show my teeth when I get a chance to bite.” He seated himself again, twirling his chair around on one of its hind legs, while his keen glance slowly made the circuit of the room. ‘*Tf I was a green hand I might waste time in trying windows and doors,” he remarked. ‘* But I recognize ths kind of stuff [am dealing with. When they put me here they meant to keep me here. I know that the den is as tight as a peni- tentiary without wasting time in trying to find out. Bathing his face again to relieve the feverish heat which still burned in his veins, he flung himself on thé bed, in as careless a manner as if he had given up all hopes of escape. He lay for an hour, the pain in his head slowly mitigating. At the end of that time he fell asleep. He failed to perceive that the slide had again opened, and the remains of his breakfast been removed. <A dark, scowling face, and a pair of fierce eyes, were visible at the opening, investi- ating the room. They fell on the motionless orm of the prisoner, ‘*By the jolly jumpers if he ain’t snoozin’,” growled the observer. ‘‘ Well, he’s a cool one, anyhow. He ain’tno baby, ain’t that Italian count,” He closed the panei and withdrew, The sound aroused the sleeper, who drew a long breath, and lifted his head, ‘‘Had another call, eh?’ he said. ‘‘I must try and manage a chat with that gentleman. It will be agreeable to know what’s in the wind.” The count rose from the bed, arranged his di- sheveled clothing, and stretched his limbs by a few active gymnastic movements. Then he walked across the room. It was not to try the strength of door or windows, how- ever. He was satisfied on that point. His steps were lirected toa closet that occupied one corner of the room. The door of this was locked, but that made him only the more desirous to investigate its contents. Taking a piece of wire from his pocket, he bent this in a certain manner, and inserted it at the keyhole. Within two minutes the lock was turned and the door came open. It was plain that this was not Count Ormond’s first experience in opening locked doors. The closet was a rather deep one, and contain- ed a considerable variety of articles. It seemed to have been used as a sort of rubbish hole, for its Sip igs were mainly what would be called trash, Yet the count was in search of something that Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. le a a ee eee eee might ail him to escape, and he was not the man to let anything pass unquestioned. He removed the contents of the closet, piece by piece, heaping them on the floor behind him: They were mostly articles of worn-out clothing, though there were old bottles, boxes of antiqua- ted papers, pieces of wood, wire, tin, some rusty awls and pincers, and a general assortment of smilar articles, : A pair of torn pantaloons which he lifted seemed unusually heavy. He thrust his hand into the pocket and drew out something at sight of which his eyes brightened. It was a eg revolver, that had apparentl been yaar! eft in the pocket of the discard- ed article of clothing. Securing this the prisoner hastily threw back the remaining objects into the closet, closed the door, and set himself to an examination of his or ize, ; His eyes had now become so adapted to the dim light that he had no difficulty in his task. His first object was to see if the weapon was loaded. A quick inspection settled that point. The chambers were pane Then he tried the lock. There was some diffi- culty in opening it, and a peculiar click that did not sound natural to his experienced ear. He pulled the trigger. The lock failed to move. The instrument was evidently out of order. ‘‘The mystery’s out now,” he said to himself. ‘‘The concern is broken, and has been flung in the closet as useless rubbish. It is lucky that I know something about the merits of a revolver lock. If it is all there I bet I make it work.” But it was now near the hour of noon. His jailer might come at any minute with his din- ner. The cautious prisoner concealed his prize, and waited events. He seated himself on his chair, lifted his heels to the table, and tilted the chair back on its hind legs, ina very easy and self-possessed atti- tude, He had not very long to wait. Steps sounded in the passage, and in a minute after, the panel was shoved back, and the face of the keeper ap- peared at the opening. He fell back a step as he encountered the keen eyes of the captive, fixed upon him with a searching look. The easy self-possession of the count’s attitude also took him by surprise. The sharp eyes of the shrewd prisoner read the ruffianly face before him as if it had been a printed sheet. He saw there considerable vigor and resolution, and a mingled wit and stupidi- ty. The fellow was one that would need care- ful handling. ‘* Good-morning,” said the count, in his easi- est manner. ‘Glad to see your delightful POR RD RTO, Got a fresh supply of provender, eh/ ‘‘T’ve brung you a bite of dinner,” stammer- ed the villain, rather abashed at this reception. ‘* We ain’t a-goin’ to starve you.” ‘‘ Well, that’s kind. I hope you’ve brought some cigars. It’s confounded slow work here, without a smoke to while the hours away.” ‘‘Here’s your grub,” growled the fellow, thrusting his waiter through the wicket. ‘‘ There weren’t no orders *bout cigars,” ‘¢‘ Nothing against them, eh?” ‘¢T reckon not,” Then suppose you buy mea few. I’ve gota trifle of cash yet,” ‘Don’t mind ’bliging a gentleman,” muttered the man in reply, mentally deciding to make the count pay well for his cigars. svi} | hope there ain’t any orders against telling what’s in the wind. I am kind of curicus to know what I’ve been brought here for, a what’s to be done with me,” ‘‘T don’t know nothin’ about it,” was the sur- ly answer. ‘‘'That’s the boss’s business, He didn’t let me in.” : ‘‘ All right, my good fellow. Hcre’s the silver for the cigars. Fetch them so I can have my after-dinner smoke, There’s nothing like taking life easy, you know, in all situations.” ‘‘Well, Ill be shot if you ain’t a cool ’un!” growled the jailer, in a tone of some admira- tion. to take it easy.” A knowing grin came to his lips as he closed and locked the sliding-panel. “That game's started,” muttered the count. ‘* Now for dinner.” A very appetizing lunch had been sent him, and he sat and enjoyed it as coolly as if at the table of some first-class hotel. i As the jailer had said, the prisoner was €v1- dently ‘‘a cool one.” : He had just finished when the kee and thrust him in the cigars ordered. r returned ‘Guess maybe you'll have plenty of time .