Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 452 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

12 -_ —— + ee EE - —- -.— == Hotspur Bob, So ee ~~ 2 =~ <i = _— -— _ the Street B ! did not then run on Broadway, and the sight of | the old man had been that night, and I trust a creeping omnibus did not prove very retresh- ing So they turned and walked up the street. Bob glanced back at the saloon. There was yet no sign that his escape bad been discovered, and it occurred to him that the wisest thing he could do was to get away before the discovery was made. Playfair and Bargrade walked on, talking earnestly, and Bob used the other sidewalk and kept them ever in sight. He would gladly have fallen in bebind them and listened to what they were saying, but this was out of the question. He followed patiently at a distance. They reached Union Square, crossed it and went as far as Fourth avenue and Nineteenth street. There they turned to the right, but, ina few moments, paused before the door of a re- spectable-looking house. Bargrade produced a key, unlocked the door, and they entered. Bob ran lightly up the steps and read the name on the doomplate. ‘“* Brackett.” A broad smile brightened the detective’s face; he believed he had learned Bargrade’s true name. Certainly, the man had entered like one at home, At this point the Bowery boy hesitated for a ynoment. A bold scheme was in bis mind, but there was so much uncertainty as to how it would result that he was uncertain whether to try it. ‘*B’gosh, I will! Ther heavens can’t no «ore’n fall, an’ ’ll be hung fer a sheep ef I’m mutton a tall. I won’t take no lamb in mine— ot fer Joseph!” He rung the door-bell boldly. There was a brief delay, and then it was “pened by a female servant who had the general appearance of having gone to seed. Her slip- pers were down at the heel, and she seemed «town at the heel generally. ‘* Good-afternoon,” orf Bob, genially. ‘* Will yer say ter ther boss that I’m hyar?” The servant looked dubious. ‘“T’'m not sure that he wants to see you.” “Tbe. Jest salaam inter his august presence an’ say that I'm hyar fer ter see him—me, Bob Bunker, ter wit, namely, ther licensed bazooist «© Gotham. Wait: now I think on’t, you needn't announce me. [ll walk in!” And he did so. ‘* Hold on!” cried the servant. ‘Don’t see nothin’ fer ter hol’ onter. Le’s skip ther ceremony, an’ jest you waltz out ther ole man. Say that one o’ his business agents is here ter— Hello! hyar his nibs is now!” Ba de had come out of an adjoining room. sid t’s all this row?” he sharply demanded. ‘Nothin’, yer royal nibs,” coolly replied Bob, ““ except a slight diff o’ opinion atween me an’ this Circassian beauty.” ‘“ Who are you?” ‘‘Who be I? Wal, you orter know.” ‘‘Ha! soldo! It’s young Bob—the dim light bothered me. Have you come with news?” ‘‘T hev, sart’in sure.” ‘ Then come in here and tell it. Wait! Stay here a few moments, and then Ill call you in.” He disappeared in the room from which he had ome, and Bob suspected that Zadok Playfair was there, and Bargrade had gone to get him out Barurade! Was that his name, or was it that on the door-plate? It occurred to the detective ‘hat this was a good time to test the matter. ‘Has Mr. Brackett got company inter thar?” ise asked, of the down-at-the-heel servant. bs Yes,” ‘* Who is it?” ‘Don’t know; the master called him Zad.” Bob felt like chuckling. Playfair was not “« Brackett,” so Bargrade must be. He had scor- ed one point, and, when he looked up the Brack- «ts genealogy, he might score another. The master of the house reappeared and told him to enter the room. He did so and found imself in the parlor. No third party was visi- hle, but Bob saw a wavering of the curtains at «ne window and suspected that Mr. Zadok Play- fair was not far away. ‘* Sit down!” said Hargrade, cordially. ‘‘ I’ve been wondering what had become of you.” “Tve been a-ketchin’ on.” “On to what?” “Pints!” “Tn regard to the drunken man?” “Andrew Wellburn, ter wit, namely. Jes’ ‘‘ We did mention his name, I remember.” ‘* Jes’ so, an’? we will mention whar he lives, ef ye banker fer that gleam 0’ radiance.” ~ Never mind; what I want is to know where " Sadie ms : r . oe a P <5 0 ‘ ae _. y iS Diaby ein aft ] _— + ~~ | that you are prepared to enlighten me.” ‘* Mister,” the Bowery boy solemnly said, ‘‘ would ye ever s’pose that Andrew was given ter dark an’ devious ways?” ‘Ts he?” ‘“‘ Casually speakin’, darker’n a black hair in ther butter. 1’m inclined ter believe that An- drew is a measly, gallus ole desperado, b’gosh!” ‘‘ Well, never mind. Tell me what you’ve dis- covered.” This was easier requested than done, for Bob had no idea what kind of a charge he was to make against Mr. Wellburn, but he must neces- sarily make some, and he relied on a lively im- agination to hel Ip him out, ‘* Boss, that Circassian beauty ain’t listenin’, is she?” the boy asked, in a stage whisper. ‘No. Goon!” “Wal, then, Andrew is a measly counter- feiter!” ‘“A counterfeiter?”’ exclaimed Bargrade, with a start. sé Jes’ so!” ‘* How do you knew?” Here was a poser. This part of Bob’s little romance was not arranged in the least degree, and he belabored his wits to get up an explana- tion which would not only be off-band but plausible. ‘““T’ve see’d him wi’ his birds o’ a feather, which is pooty fair proof, fer men don’t consort wi’ counterfeiters fer no honest purpose—not fer Joseph! But thar’s more.” * What is it?” Sure enough, what was it? Bob did not know, yet he must explain. He remembered that, on a previous occasion, he had directed Bargrade’s suspicions to the saloon near where be had first seen Wellburn—that of Den Magee—and he thought Den might as well stand the pressure now. ‘*] know their crib.” ‘“‘Ha! Where is it?” ‘‘Casually speakin’, ther infermation seems wu'th a few dew-cats, ez ther poet sez, don’t it?” ‘* What is your price?” ‘¢ How would a ten-spot hit yer up?” “Td give it, but l haven’t that amount of ready money in the house.” There was another rustle of the curtains, and then the President of the Bonanza Savings Bank stepped into sight. ‘“Tll give the money,” he said. Bob looked at him with pretended surprise. ‘*Don’t know whether you will, or not. W’ot sort o’ a trap fer my unwary cowhide boots is this? Mr. Bargrade, E-squire, is this ther way ye use a gentleman? D’ye keep other blokes on draught? Any more on ’em anywhar? Is ther sofy stuffed wi’ ’em? Do I see one dang- lin’ from ther chandelier? Develop ther hull outfit, ole man, an’ let me see how much it'll take ter pension ’em off. Trot out ycr relics of 1812. altz in yer armless men, an’ yer legless men, an’ yer headless men, an’—” ‘Hold on!—hold on!” cried Bargrade. ‘Do, for heaven’s sake, give me a/chance to edge in a word. You need not be afraid of this gentle- man. He is my superior in this affair and, really, your employer.” “Oh! Why ther howlin’ dervish didn’t yer say so? How was I ter know '*? Pard,” to Playfair, ‘‘ ’'m right proud an’ happy fer ter see ver. Put it thar, b’ hookey.” It was not an over-clean hand which Bob ex- tended, but Mr. Zadok Playfair could not afford tu be over-nice just then, and he gave his own with as good grace as possible. ‘‘Kerrect fer you, mister: [ see you’re one o’ ther white ben’s chickens. No fuss an’ feather ‘bout yer, but reg’lar Bowery free-an’-easy sociability.” ‘*f take it you’re a Bowery boy.” “Bet yer porous plaster, I be. Ask Tim O’Hern, Andy Finnegan, or Slippery Sam.” Bob assumed a lawless air, to give the men the idea that he was a tough citizen, generally. ‘‘No great amount of nonsense about you, either, eh?” “Nota bit. I’m a dynamiter, socialibest an’ free-thinker ginerally.” ‘“T hope you haven’t too much conscience?” “Conscience? Wot is that? We don’t deal in ther article along the Bowery—not fer Jo- seph!” And Bob puffed out his cheeks and looked like an Italian bandit on the war-path. “You talk like a sensible Jad, and I’m glad to know you. So you have information which you think worth ten dollars?” ** Jes’ so.” ‘‘ Here is the money.” Playfair extended a banb-note, which the oy Detective. i young detective composedly stowed away in his pocket. ‘‘You’re a boss man ter deal wi’, an’ you'll find me right on deck ev’ry day in ther week Whar is ther resort o’ ther counterie:ters?”’ ‘'That’s the question.” ‘Wal, it’s over Den Magee’s.” ‘“‘ Magee’s? That's the place you said Well- a came from, that nigut,” interrupted Bar- grade. ‘Casually speakiu’, you're onter it sclid.” “But how do you know counterieiting is done there, and that Wellburn las a hand in it? “Cause counterfeiters go thar, an’ Wellburn mixes wi’’em, an’ thar is lights thar at all hours 0 ther night, an’ | twigged one o’ ther gang assin’ ther queer in a boozin’ place on ther Bowery, and severial other reasons.” ‘‘T think the boy is right,” said Playfair. ‘“ You kin bet yer tin on it, boss.” ‘*T don’t know why Wellburn should be fool enough to go into tat business,” Bargrade ob- served. : Playfair gave him a warning look. Ve can’t account for any body’s slips nowa- days,” he said, with a mournful shake of his head. Both men then questioned Bob further, but the boy did not consider it advisable to know too much. and they got nu more points of real or supposed value, They then held a secret consultation, during which Bob made himself at home. He suspect- ed that they were considering his reliability, and would have some other work for him to do if their verdict was favorable; so he waited patiently. He had fully made up his mind that, what- ever might te Andrew Wellkurn’s weaknesses, he was not as Lad as Playfair, and intended to cast his fortunes with the cashier decidedly. **Somehody about ther Savin’s Bank is crook- ed, though,” he thought, ‘tan’ ez my bullion is banked thar, I’m goin’ in fur an overbaulin’ 0’ dead timber. Never’ll do fer ter bev ther crooks skip ter Canada with ther lucre— not fer Joseph !” He had heerd the coor-bell ring while sitting there, but gave little attention to it until the door was suddenly , ushed open and somebody entered. Then he found himself interested at once. The new-comer was Bet, the negress, and ally of Steve Rellix, and her ferocious gaze was fixed full on Pob. “Hal” she cried, “T's got ox at last, you debbil, an’ now Tl cut you all in inch pieces!” and she flourished a knife in the air. CHAFTER XIV. THE HOTSPUR ‘‘KETCHES ON.” oung detective was very much _ sur- or he would as scon have thought of seeing the queen of England in the room, but there was no mistake about it. There was Bet, big and ugly, and the expres- sion on her face indicated that she would do all that she threatened if she could. She gave the knife another sweep and started forward, but Bob promptly dodged behind the center-table. ‘Cheese it, Lily White!” he coolly exclaimed. “This ‘ere ain’t no gory slaughter-house, an’ you'd better keep yer distance. Put up that measly ole choppin’- nife, an’ act like a sensible )”? Bargrade had evidently been very much sur- rised by the new-arriyal, but he now recovered his ch. “Good heavens! we have a lunatic here!” As he spoke Bet made a rush for the Hotspur, but he dodged nimbly arownd the table. ‘Whoop ’em up, Lily White! I’m at home an’ lookin’ at yer. Come an’ see me! Let ther blind mule bray! Hello! don’t lose ther pieces!” . For Bet, in her headlong haste, bad failed to notice the piano-stool, and she now went over it about as gracefully as n cow, sprawling over the floor, while her knife flew from her hand and fell at Bob’s feet. He picked it up a hind the sofa, just as she arose. : He did not escape ber notice, however, and her gaze was full of ferocity ; but she came to a sud- den halt and stood staring blankly, Her gaze was on Zadok Playfair’s face now, and Bob saw with some wonder that the bank president looked embarrassed and alarmed, ‘«“ Wh-wh-what?” stammered Bet. Nobody answered her, and she added: ‘“@lare ter gracious! I[ didn’t know you was hyar.” THE prised, nd threw it in the corner be- in time to escape her notice ~ a