Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 432 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

*“‘There’s no change,” he muttered. is dear, out this way.” ‘*That’s all right. Have you any matches?” ** Matches is ag’in’ orders.” ‘*Give me a light then. That won’t break any orders.” The fellow struck a match, and held it to the cigar which the count thrust through the ap- erture. A few whiffs, and it was lighted. ‘** Much obliged,” said the count, easily. ‘* Pil do as much for you some of these days, It’s sort of close quarters in here. You don’t always keep your windows shut.” ‘** Only when we get birds like you in the cage,” answered the fellow, with a laugh. ‘* Cigars a again made an effort to turn the stiff screws. This time they yielded. That first turn in the screw which is the sign of conquest was gained. Laying down the pistol, with a smile of triumph on his intelligent face, he proceeded to extinguish the flames, pouring on it water from the basin, There was one difficulty which could not be avoided. The room was full of the smell of burning, while a light smoke was slowly curling through the transom. Fearing a visit of suspicion and possibly a search, he gathered up the wet cinders with his hands, rolled them, with the remnants of scorch- ed paper, into a ball, and wrapped them closely up ina piece of rag. He next cut a slit in the ‘* All right, old lad. But you don’t know what | bottom of the mattress of his bed, and thrust a quiet, docile chapIam. If you’d leave that door open I wouldn't think of walking out.” ‘Ohno! In course not,” laughed the jailer, as if he thought this a very amusing joke. ‘*Here. Suppose you take this truck away. I’m done dinner.” He handed out the dishes, and then coolly seated himself, puffing away at his cigar. The jailer gave him an admiring look as he closed the wicket. ** A doosed cool ’un that,” he muttered. ** (sot my first work in on that coon,” said the count, to himself. ‘* Pll twist him round my fin- ger yet, if the pistol don’t work. My next game is to investigate that funny little instrumeut.” CHAPTER VI. THE WORK OF AN AMATEUR LOCKSMITH. CoUNT ORMOND seemed to know thoroughly what he was about. ating the pistol into its several parts, although it was badly rusted and clogged with hardened oil. The aid of the pincers found in the closet, and a knife-blade used as a screw-driver, en- abled him to do this. Then he closely examined the several parts. ** All right here,” he muttered. ‘‘ Everything is in good shape, All the trouble is in the lock machinery. If there’s nothing lost or broken there, ['llsoon have the affair in working order.” Yet it proved no easy matter to take the lock apart. Rust had invaded its machinery. Its oil had clogged and hardened until it was like stone. With only his knife-blade as a screw- driver, it was impossible to start the screws, After ten minutes of useless labor, in which fear of breaking the blade checked his efforts upon the screws, the prisoner laid down the lock, sat back, and drew nervously upon his cigar for several minutes. * If that fool had only given me some matches I might burn off the gum and loosen the joints by heat,” he muttered. He reflected for a minute and then sprung to his fect. ‘*There’s nothing im ible,” he declared. ‘*T may be able to get a blaze,” * Repairing to the closet, hs took from it sever- al old newspapers and pieces of rag. Tearing a piece from one of the rags, he rent this into minute shreds. Then, by aid of the pincers, he tore these into fibers, until he had a heap of fibrous material almost as fine as tinder. He looked at his work with satisfaction. ‘That ought to kindle easily,” he muttered, as he drew vigorously on his cigar. Then, holding the lighted end of the latter to the fluffy mass, he soon had it burning, lines of oa running along the separate fibers into the eap. Some judicious blowing made the fire more active, and after a few minutes of careful work he had the satisfaction to see a fine blaze spring up in the mass. ‘*Good!” he cried triumphantly, as the blaze run rapidly through the heap of fibers. “That part of the job is done. Now for the next oper- ation.” For want of anything better he had laid his combustible materials on a piece of board he had found in the closet. Now laying fragments of paper and rags on the burning fibers he soon had a clear and hot blaze. In this he held the lock by means of the pin- cers, turning and twisting It until every portion of the iron had been touched by the keen tongues of flame. The prisoner laughed with satisfaction as he continued his labor. “*T hope my gentleman friend outside won’t pay me a visit just now,” he said. ‘‘He'd be something surprised to see this little bit of in- dustry. Brains are the best tools after all,” He continued until the lock became very hot, and all of its gummy material burnt into dry ashes, Then grasping it with the pincers, he | = Re Sse this tell-tale bali deeply into the straw, The rest of the material he threw back into the closet, while the partly scorched board was thrust under the heap, with its burnt side down- ward. His hands were much blackened, but it was not safe to wash them in this condition, lest the grimy water should tell the tale of his opera- tions. Hard rubbing witha piece of rag took off most of the soot. He now thrust the pistol and pincers into a crevice he observed in the wood-work of the closet, and finished by relock- ing the door with the aid of his bent wire, The shrewd prisoner contemplated his work with satisfaction. His hands were yet some- what soiled, but this an application of water re- moved. He finished by lirhting a fresh cigar and re- suming his seat, with his former air of careless He was not long in separ- | satisfaction. “| fancy I have pretty well covered up my tracks,” ho remarked. ‘It depends on how sharp these fellows are whether thet confounded smell will sell my plan ornot. I hope they are all out of the house.” The smoke gradually made its way through the transom. The strong smell of burning slowly weakened as it disseminated itself. A half-hour passed away. The count’s confidence returned as the source of the smell grew each minute less evident. A short time more passed, and then the sound of heavy and hasty steps were heard in the pas- sage. There was none of that ca’-like tread which the keeper had used before. The panel was thrown open and the face of the ill-looking ruffian appeared, full of anger and suspicion. He was about blurting out some question, but his quick-witted prisoner got ahead of him. ‘* T’d like to know what this means?” cried the count, springing to his feet with an air of as- sumed indignation. ‘‘ Are you trying tosmoke me out, you rascally reprobates? Here’s the room stifling with the smell of burnt rags, or some such truck. Hang your picture, if you have such stuff as that to burn, why can’t you shut your doors and keep the smoke out of the house?” The fellow was decidedly taken aback by this assault. The count’s indignation seemed so real that he hesitated, stammered, and finally broke out: ‘“‘There’s nothing been burning,” he ejaculat- ed. ‘The smell comes from this direction, and the house is full of it. [cansmell it strong now in your room.” So can I,” declared the count; ‘I’m nearly smothered with it. The next time you have any burning to do, get something that don’t smell so rank,” ‘But I tell you there’s been nothing burnt,” ersisted the fellow. ‘It smells as if something ad been burning in your room,” The count stared at him with an air of sur- prise, and then burst into a sarcastic leuch. “So there has been,” he declared—‘ those confounded weedy cigars you brought me. Isn't there anything better than cabbage leaves in this neighborhood?” The sharp prisoner had completely gotten the best of his keeper. The latter attempted a con- fused answer, knowing that he had bought the cheapest cigars, and finally withdrew somewhat hastily, thinking that he must have been mis- taken about the source of the smell. A sly laugh came from the count’s lips, but he made no effort to recover the weapon; it was not safe yet. In fact, he let the rest of the day pass without doing 80. There was no hurry, he told himself. His caution was wisely taken. Near night- fall the fellow returned, bearing his supper. Instead of pushing it through the panelas usual, he unlocked the door and entered the cell. ‘‘T’ve been ordered to search the room,” he declared, ina tone of apology, *There’s been Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. | —— — — — 7 no fire below, and the boss says as somethin’ must be wrong here.” ‘‘ All right,” said the count, easily. ‘“ Peg away. Idon’t see as I have any sort of objec- tions.” He seated himself coolly to his ie heb while the suspicious fellow made a thorough round of the cell, sniffing everywhere, and turning up and examining all articles. He tried the clos: door, but as he found that locked, he paid no further attention to it. Fortunately for the captive the rank smell had now nearly disappeared, and it was no stronger there than elsewhere through the house. With apparent heedlessness of this search, the count proceeded to discuss his supper. He had not been without the idea of making a break for freedom; but he had no weapon, while his keep- er held a sort of bludgeon, and it was otieable that there were assistants below. The prisoner, therefore, continued at his supper, with no sign to show that such thoughts had passed through his head. ‘Got through?” he asked at length. YC ee “Find anything?” 0." ‘Thought you wouldn’t. Here’s my supper- dishes. Much obliged for your kind attention.” The fellow took up the dishes and left the room, with an air asif he felt that he had heen intruding, But he hesitated for a minute at the door, and then threw back the panel and looked in, The count had thrown himself on the bed, and was stretched out at full length. With a muttered apology the fellow closed the wicket again and retired. ‘So far good,” muttered the count. ‘ That ugly business is settled. But, it is not safe to make any other move till to-morrow.” He passed that night in asound sleep. If he had been in his own bed and in perfect freedom, he could not bave slumbered more soundly. His confidence in himself had fully returned. The next day, after finishing the breakfast which hi; keeper brought him, and safely rid of that gentleman’s visits for several hours, he pro- ceeded with hisinterrupted work. He wasmore anxious for the result than might have appeared from bis deliberate movements, Recovering the pistol from the place where he had hidden it, he applied himself to remove the started screws from the lock. They yielded now easily, and he quickly had the lock in pieces, He examined the pieces critically, and with an air of experience. A single minute sufficed to show him what was wrong. The trouble was with the spring. Butit was not broken. It had simply slipped out of place. All the other parts were in good order. ‘‘That disease is as good as cured,” he re- marked, ‘It is lucky I know the make-up of a pistol lock.” But there was something to do before putting it together. He carefully scraped the rust and burnt oil and gum from the parts, finishing his work with a scrap of emory paper which he had found in the closet. Then he oiled it all with some butter which he had saved from his breakfast. This done, he put it together with the ease of an expert. He tried the spring. It worked satisfactorily, Witha smile of triumph he proceeded to maniy- ulate the other metal Pree and to brighten up the rusty barrel with iis emory paper. A few minutes more sufficed to put the revol- ver torether. He tried the lock. It worked to acharm, He had fashioned for himself a very useful bit of machinery. Completely satisfied with his work, he replac- ed the weapon in his hiding-place in the closet, and locked the door, It was utterly useless in its present state. His wit had served lim well so far. Trt he now needed to call oflcr resources into a tion, When the attendar.t apreared at nocn with his dinner to his surprise he found the prisoner seated with his face bent over the table, holding both hands to his cheek, and groaning as if in rreat pain, “What's the matter?” asked the fellow, curi- ously. ‘‘Be ye sick? Want some whisky, or summat of the sort?” The count looked up with a very woebegone face, ‘* Tt isn’t that,” he groaned. I'm half-wild with a jumping tooth. crazy if I don’t get something to stop it.” , “Try tobacco,” suggested the keeper, with some sympathy. ‘ That’s mighty good.” ‘Tt won’t work on me,” declared the coun’, sé 9 : There’s only one thing I ever found of any use, 2 ‘‘Tt’s toothache. Vl go