Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 434 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

case retorted, with a chuckle. dudes w’ot git stuck on sad sea waves. No, sir-ee! But what the blazes is the old man up to, ete ne—two—three hours passed, without the gamin’s getting a solution to the mystery. Atlast, thoroughly disgusted with his tedious wait, he was about to venture upon the wharf “tines he saw aman coming rapidly down the street. As the new-comer drew nearer, Spider recog- | nized him, and gave vent to a whistle of sur- prise. And little wonder; the man was none oth- | er than Gilbert Guion. “Tl be kicked for a cat ef et ain’t the chap I | upset, an’ w’ot my gal, Botts, is goin’ ter work for,” Spider mused. ‘Wonder what he’s doin’ down here? What! goin’ out on the wharf? Ho! ho! [ thinkI scent ther peculiar odor of a full’ grown wharf mice. Et jest strikes me there’s goin’ to be a meetin’, *twixt Guion an’ old orgy? Thet Guion kinder looks like Morg, too. Shall I be an eaves- dropper ter this interview. cuckoo! I will walk into their parlor, said the Spider to their fly.” And waiting until Guion had disappeared be- yond the piles of rope, the gamin glided out up- on the wharf, and was soon on top of one of the uppermost bales, where he could hear without being seen. ‘* Now, then,” he mused. ‘I’m prepared to hear all that is sed, an’ I hope they will fire ahead.” His hopes were to be realized. ‘*This is a deuce of aplace for a meeting,” Guion was heard to say. are no eavesdroppers?” * Yes! yes! I’ve been here for hours, and no one came out on the wharf. There’s no vessel near, and there'll be no work here till one comes. Besides, I’ve got my terriers ears yet, an’ ef 2S came on the wharf I’d hear ’em you t! ‘* Well, what do you want, old man?” Guion demanded, with considerable gruffness, ** Some of the ‘ root,’ of course,” the old hard ‘You can’t ex- pect your poor old—” ‘*Shut your mouth!” fiercely cried Guion. ‘‘No more of that! I’m gettin’ tired and sick of Ag eternal demands for money, d’ye know 1 ed doggedly. ‘‘ You dare not refuse me, or ri bu'st yer hull game up, you bet yer boots!” ‘‘ And for two cents 1d chuck you over into the river!” ** And I'd swim out, like a sailor!” with a dis- agreeable laugh. ‘‘Oh, I tell you, boy, there’s no use 0’ your buckin’ ag’in’ yer dad, fer—” ‘“Curses on you! Didn’t I tell you to shut up?’ raved Guion. “If you want to see me, hold your tongue! What do you want money for?” ‘‘ What does aman want when he’s mp Th Bread, of course. But come; enough of this, When are you going to have those jobs ready?’ ‘‘'That’s hard totell. The old man is growing more stubborn and unmanageable every day he lives, and clings to the hope that he will find that boy, Mark. His money he still keeps tied up in the Safety Deposit vault, and all my per- suasion for him to draw it out and keep it in a safe in his own house is without result. As you know, I have told you that I believe a will ex- ists in Mark’s favor; anyhow, the lawyer calls twice daily at the mansion, and if a will is not already made, one is likely to be, ere the old man drops off. He ordered me to get him a young girl for a nurse, at fifty per week, complied with his request, and Tt think I have got one I can twist around my finger. If so, the chances may-be a little more favorable in that quarter. But I wouldn’t stake my life we will ever make a scoop. When I ask for a few hundreds it is not refused, but the old fox is continually harping that he would like to find Mark.” : ‘But, of course, he will not find him?” “Not if I know myself!” was the reply. “Fortune has favored me in getting Mr. Mark into a predicament he won’t be likely to get out of soon, “Good! And now, the other case?” “Oh, things are progressing as well as can be expected, I think, Some of the thunder-clouds linger yet, and my schemes me¢y possibly fail. But even if they do, the nut will still be ready to crack, for our mutual benefit.” 4! hope it won't be long before I get a chance to crack it,” Morgan declared. ‘‘ I’m anxious to try my old hand once more.” ** The opportunity may come sooner than you ‘*T can’t help it if you are,” Morgan repli mee ae ee Waal, I should | ‘* Are you sure there | eee ee ee ec ee es Se ee ee ee oe nuther. Jakie ain’t one o’ them sentimental | expsct, old man—sooner than you expect. Mat- | ters may assume such a form that it will be necessary to act upon short notice; but I hope not. And now, remember I am short; will a hundred dollars do you?” ‘‘Yes, that will do—for the present.” ‘‘'Then here it is. Now I must be off. Remain closely around the old haunt, for if 1 want you I will then have no trouble in finding you. Do | you understand?” sé Yes.” ‘Then, so long. I must be going. Don’t spend that for rum, but keep yourself ready tor ' business.” And Gilbert Guion strode away, while old Jake sauntered along up the street, with Jim Beak’s little pal in his wake, ‘“My heyes!” he mused. ‘I know’d I could smell a rat—a reg’lar Norwegian on stilts!” | CHAPTER X. OLD CHRISTOPHER’S QUEST. | FEarty that same morning, Miss Nellie Botts _had bundled up her few personal effects, kissed | her sad, wan mother good-by, and started for | the West Philadelphia mansion of old Christo- | pher Guion, where she was to take up her posi- | tion as nurse, at the to her astonishing salary of fifty dollars a week. | She was in high spirits, and her sparkling | eyes and joyous face attracted the attention of every one in the street car. At last, after a long ride, she reached her des- tination, a handsome old-time residence, set | down in spacious grounds, and mounting the | Steps, she rung the bell, feeling a little nervous lest her appearance should not be “tony” | enough to suit the old man; for she had no | doubt but what she could suit him, in other re- | Spects. | The bell was answered by a fat, jovial-looking | hegress, who appeared to apprehend the cause _ of Botts’s coming. ‘*Oh! you’se de new nuss girl, 1 ’spect,” she said. ‘* Come right in. parlor, waiting for you.” And Botts was ushered into the presence of old Mr. Guion, who was seated in an easy-chair arrayed in an elaborate dressing-gown and smoking cap. He was probably eighty-five years of age, tall, thin and angular. His face was little more than the skin drawn over the bones, his cheeks were sunken, and his hair white as driven snow. He wore no beard, whatever; and his eyes were supernaturally bright and keen, ‘Dis hyar is de new girl, sah!” the negress said, and then waddled out of-the room, leaving Botts standing before her new master. ‘Sit down, my child,” Mr. Guion said, point- ing to a chair, and speaking in a kindly tone. ‘Sit down. You must be tired. Let me see: your name is—” ** Nellie Botts, sir.” “Nellie eh? That's a pretty name, to be sure. My stars!” he old man had put on his gold-rimmed ng ine and was gazing at Nellie very earn- estly. **My stars!” he repeated, directly, ‘‘ your face is very much like—like one that used to be familiar tome, Are you quite sure your name is Botts, my dear?” ‘*Oh! yes, sir!” Nellie hastened to say, a rift of color passing over her face. ‘‘ If you will tell me what my duties are to be, [ will get to work, De ole man he is in de The old man scratched his head, a moment, and gazed thoughtfully at the Axminster carpet, beneath their feet. ‘Oh! there'll not be much for you to do,” he said, slowly. “I wanted some bright, genial spirit, more for company, than as a nurse, for I am not so helpless, nor half so near dead as many think and wish I were. Ha! ha! I may outlive ’em all, yet!” ‘¢Surely no one could wish you dead, sir?” ** Couldn’t they? Well, my dear child, that’s because you don’t know. By the time you live to be eighty-five, you will have a better know- ledge of the world and its worldliness. You see —but, nonsense. I will not intrude my gloomy forebodings on you. You may go, now, and hunt up, the housekeeper, She will show you where your:'room is. In half an hour, you may come here, ready to go driving.” Nellie gladly arose, and left the room, her cheeks burning with shame, ‘Oh! my, 1 wonder if he suspects that I lied to him, when I assured him my name was Botts,” she murmured. ‘‘ He seemed to recog- nize me, but I cannot remember that I ever saw him, before, But, then, I was younger, than now, ‘ Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detec — =—_ ———---— 11 She hunted up Rosa, the housekeeper, and was piloted to a prettily furnished room, and soon felt herself considerably more at home, in the great mansion. After being shown around generally, by the housekeeper, she returned ta the parlor, where she found Mr. Guion dressed, and evidently in waiting for her. ‘*Did you wish me to accompany you, sir?” Nellie asked. ‘Of course, my dear. Iam going to make a brief call on an old friend I have not met for a couple of years. But, before we go, sit down. I have something to say to you, for I take you for an honest girl.” Nellie sat down, feeling very nervous, indeed. ‘*Now, you see,” Mr. Guion said, ‘‘I am a very old man, and don’t know what minute [ may be called away from this life—the sconer the better, for that matter. When I go, I must of course leave behind all my money, which is no inconsiderable amount. And there is but one person I would leave it to, he being my grandson,” ‘‘The gentleman who hired me, I suppose?” ‘‘Not he! True, he is my grandson, but not the one I mean—nor is he the one I would leave my property to—ah! no. But let me tell you. Years ago, [] sda most beautiful daughter, who was the pride «rd joy of my life, but she con- tracted an unfortunate marriage with an un- principled scoundrel, against my will, and I drove her from my home. The man she mar- ried, one Jake Morgan, turned out to be a criminal, hut she clung to him for years, and bore him two children, one of whem she namec Gilbert Guion Morgan, and the other simply Mark Morgan. ‘‘ Well, after over fifteen years, she came to me one bitter winter’s night, dying trom cold and starvation, and begged me to take her in, and my heart relented, and I did so. She kad the boy Gilbert with her—he was then a lad of thirteen or fourteen—but, she could give no clear account of her infant child, Mark, more than that she had lost him. Her husband, Jake Morgan, was in yrison, for burglary. Well, I forgave her, and the died here in my house, first eliciting a picmisre that b would try to find Mark and would make him my heir, instead of Gilbert, who, she said would be like his father, while Mark was more like herself. So I promised that her last wishes should be respected. ‘Years passed by, and Gilbert grew up, as- suming my name; but, though I spent time and money, I never ciscovered Mark, until a few ears ago, when he had grown up nearly to man- Lane: made known to him who and what he was—for he was then living under the name cf people who had brought him up—and assired im of my good inteations toward him. He re- ceived the news in a very matter-of-fact way-- in fact, did not seem hectibanes4 3 elated over his prospective good fortune--and thanking me for my interest in him, said that he should try to get along cn his own hcok, and that he very much regretted to learn that he was the son of the notcrious turglar, Jake Morgan. ‘¢ Soon after this, | lest track of him again--- learned that he had changed his name, and have never been able to get track or trace of him since. I want to find him, and draw my will up m his favor. Perhaps you may have heard of him, or met him?” ‘‘No, sir, I don’t think Ihave. I have heard a young friend of mine talk of Jake Morgan, the burglar, but he never said anything about the man having any sons,” ‘‘ Who is this young friend of yours?” ‘‘His name is Spider. He sometimes sells newspaper son the street, and sometimes he is a detective’s *prentice, for he is very bright, very good and very honest.” ‘‘ Ah! Tam interested. PerhapsI may obtain a clew, yet. His name is Spider, eh? Who is the detective?” ‘Jim Beak. He’s a “This boy you say Morgan?” ‘Indeed, he does. Morgan hit him on the head with a billy once, and Spider’s never for- got him. He often tells me about it, for he— well—” “Well, what?” ‘He is—that is, he comes to see me, some-- times,” “ Ah! yes, I see. He is your beau, eh?” and the old man chuckled, softly. ‘That’s right— of course itis. I approve of young people keep- ing good and proner company, I used to be quite a beau, myself, years ago. And now, I'd really like to see this yourg man. Wheredo you. think we could find himg’ tives. rivate one.” nows something about