Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 452 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

kan, “" “ —_—— — = —— - e - . —_—— —— —. aoopin’ ther boodle outer ther bank, I want ter ~lraw wot I hev thar. I don’t go no great shucks on no blear-cyed embezeleer—not fer Joseph!” Bob’s home was on Crosby stfeet. It was not a luxurious place—indeed, the street is not noted for luxury—but it suited him and his boy friend, Stumpy, just as well as more pretentious quarters, Stumpy was a lame boy, small and gentle, and Bob’s opposite in everything but honesty, but the two were fast friends. The following morning they ate breakfast to- gether, after they had prepared it in company. “ Stumpy,” said Bob, ‘ I’ve got a sit.” ‘‘ A situation?” ‘‘Soech were the drift 0’ my ree-mark.” - ‘¢ What.are you going to do?” “The mayor hez hired me fer ter dust off ther jackets o’ offensive partisans who object ter his style o’ runnin’ this hyar burg.” ‘Now, Bob, why do you want to talk so?’ re- proachfully asked cory * Wal, T thort ye'd like ter know it, so ye wouldn’t come monkeyin’ ’round his serene nibs, wi’ no kick ag’in’ peanut regulations. Be con- tent wi’ ther code, para, or I shall loom up afore you like an infunt umbo, b’gosh.” “Tm afraid you're going to do more detective work.” ‘Tm goin’ ter try, my unsophis’cated frien’, I’m goin’ ter try, wi’ my hull caliber.” ‘What is it now?” ‘‘ Now you git down ter bed-rock an’ p’int a moral. it dunno! I’m inter ther racket, but ther hull plot is bagged up like a yaller cat sunk in East river, fer ter die by unwillin’ suicide. Fact is, a high-toned gent o’ Murray Hill hez hired me. What I’m ter doI don’t know; an’, now I think on’t, I dunno w’ot pay I’m ter gob- ble onter. It’s a soft snap, though, fur I’m only ter set around an’ keep my weather eye on ther compass ter see how ther scow is headin’. Now, don’t ye look so blue round ther gills, Stumpy, fer ’tain’t half so resky ez sellin’ measly peanuts by the pint.” He spoke cheerfully, for Stumpy was not of his own bold natare, and needed a good deal of cheering up. While the lame boy looked after the peanut- stand Bob was about the city a good deal, and in this way he happened on several crooked cases which he had worked up in true detective oe a line of business in which he aspired to excel, On the present occasion he finally succeeded in uieting his companion’s fears, and Stumpy en started for the Bowery peanut-stand, Bob still had ample time to reach Wellburn’s house before the hour set, so he remained in the room and occupied himself with wondering what the cashier could want of him. The possibility that he was desired to aid in *‘ crooked” work did not escape his attention, and he felt that al- most anything was liable to occur. He was still thinking when a knock sounded at the door. He said, ‘Come in!” and the appli- cant obeyed. Bob grew interested at first sight, for he re- cogni the tall man he had first seen on Grand street, the previous night, and, afterward, in the carriage. W hat did this visit mean? ‘* Hallo, young fellow!” greeted the visitor. ‘‘ Hello, yerself!” was the cool reply. ‘You are the boy called Bob o’ the Bowery?” ” a ter a pin-head.” “Well, I want to see you;” and the tall man helped himself to a chair, ‘You're at liberty fer ter feast yer eyes on my benev'lent feetures fer a limited period. hev an engagement wi’ ther gov’ner o’ this hyar State, an’ ez he’d feel wounded bad ef I disa’- ‘inted him, you Will please do yer biz quick, z we say at ther Board o’ Trade, ‘ this is my busy day.’” ; The tall man looked surprised. “ You've got a glib tongne,” he observed. “hf yer come ter buy it, you may ez wal slide. “Tain’t fer sale—not fer Joseph! ‘‘Never mind, You know me, of course?” ‘Know you? I don’t know yer granddad.” “ Didn’t you see me last night? “Not fer Joseph!” promptly returned the boy, and he told the truth in one sense of the word; the tall man had so kept his face conceal- ed on the previous occasion that Bob had seen only his wardrobo, He saw his face now, or part of it. The stranger still wore his big hat, and a scarf was not a bad one, but Bob was not inclined to like him, ‘‘T am the man who spoke to you on Grand street.” “Oh! beyou? Now yourefer ter ther episody, I do remember yer classic build. ther racket now, mister?” ‘‘ You remember the drunken man?” ‘*T should remark.” ‘‘ Will you answer a question about him?” ‘‘ Wal, see hyar, now,” and Bob shut one eye and looked craftily with the other, *‘ I never see’d a hoss but had two ears—'less he’d been orphaned 0’ one o’ them—an’ in ther peresent case it’s ther same. Afore we amble furder along ther road, lemme ask who you be thet hez sech an absorbin’ int’rest in ther tragic affair.” ‘‘My name is Bargrade.” “ Bargrade, eh? Live nigh here?” ‘¢ Not in Crosby street, I hope. I live in New York, but [ must ask leave to sg my place of residence a secret. Let us talk of the drunken man.” ‘* Wharfore?” ‘*Casually speakin’, why?” Bob rested his chin on his hands and looked calmly at Mr. Bargrade. He was wholly in the dark as to what that person was driving at, but felt serenely conscious of his ability to cope with him, ‘‘T am interested in the case,” Bargrade re- lied. es T obsarved ther fact.” ‘¢ Now, allow me to ask where that man came from,” ‘¢ Why didn’t you ask him?” ‘‘T thought at the time, that I didn’t care.” ‘¢ Why do you care now?” ‘‘- You are confounded inquisitive!” ‘‘ Then thar is a pair on us.” ‘¢See here, boy, I am willing todo the fair thing by you. Last night I gave you a five-dol- lar note. Here is another for you, if you will act sensibly and answer my questions.” ‘‘ Wal, ther rustle o’ a bank-note is an allurin’ sound, [ allow, an’ ef yer interrogs strike me ez bein’ sound on ther goose, V’jl subscribe. Shout ver conundrums!” ‘* Who was that man?” ‘‘T didn’t ask his name.” ‘¢ But you know him,” ‘‘ Wal, who said I didn’t? Le’s skip that p’int an’ ghee ter ther next. Name it!’ ‘‘— found you and him on the sidewalk. I } have reason to believe you had not been with him long. When did you first see him? Where did he come from?’ ‘Oh! is that all you want ter know?’ coolly returned Bob. ‘‘ Wal, I kin eloocidate on that pint in a shake. I found him flounderin’ around on ther sidewalk, like a mud-turkle on a cam- ign tower. He didn’t say whar he come from, an’ I don’t know.” ‘‘ Are you sure?” asked Bargrade, in a tone of deep disappointment. ‘* Casual Bag I be.” ‘‘T don’t believe you!” ‘Tn ther language o’ ther poick, ‘ nobody ask- ed you, sir,’ she said, b’gosh!” ‘“Te]] me where he came from, and this five- dollar note is yours.” ‘‘ See yer, mister—look me right squar’ in my starboard eye. D’ye see anything brittle thar? Obsarve ary sign that I'm imbecile, foolish, weak-minded, half-witted, or a darned, measly fool? Casually speakin’, I don’t believe yer do. Ef so. looks is off ther plumb, an’ not ter be bet on. Mr. Halfgrade, you’re only wastin’ time on me. Put up yer greenback—you’n’ me can’t trade.” Bob spoke decidedly. He did not know what this mysterious man wanted, but he had decided that it was Bargrade’s intention to learn all he could and tell emo inreturn. To deal with such a man was wholly useless, and he determin- ed to be true to Wellburn. Bargrade’s face flushed, ‘‘ By George, you young scamp!” he exclaim- ed; ‘you wil tell, or I'll have you arrested!” CHAPTER V. A DOUBLE PURSUIT. Bos heard this announcement without any ev- idence of alarm. Conscious that he had done nothing for which to be arrested, he thought Bargrade was merely trying to frighten him. ‘When you git ready, jest telerphone ter Su- rintendent Murray, an’ he'll prob’ly send up & ull rigiment 0’ coppers. I’m knowed ez a des- | p’rit karakter. an’ no seven common men would twisted around his neck in such a way that it | dare ter tackle me.” was still difticult to make out what he was like. He wore a long, black beard, and his face was ' ly declared. a = “ Your levity is out of place,” Bargrade barsh- ‘Tf you think me joking, you are ee © Se Oe Hotspur Bob, the Street Boy Dete ' ; ctive., greatly mistaken, for I mean business. I am willing to use you well and pay for the informa- tion I want, but if you are stiff-necked and re- bellious, the matter simmers down to just this: Talk, or ’'li have you arrested for picking my Wal, w’ot’s | pocket!” ce Eh ” Bargrade repeated his last sentence. ‘See yer,” then said Bob, soberly, “hev I as > yer measly ole pocket?’ O ? “ Has anybody did so?” éc No ” ‘‘ Then w’ot ther bewitched swine 0’ Persia be ye howlin’ about, anyhow?” Bar e smiled darkly, and his expression was evil enough to make amends for all past blandness. ‘*‘ Youngster, I don’t take you for an unso- phisticated chap, but I will say for your benefit that in this, our mighty city of Gotham, there are every week people arrested, tried and con- victed, who are not guilty—people who get in other people’s way aan are thus removed, This is just how you'll be served, if you persist in your obstinacy. Once let me enter a charge against you and you are gone. What show has a ragged boy _s a wealthy man?” ‘So that’s ther kind o’a measly snake you be!” Bob exclaimed. ‘‘ When I set out to do a thing, I do it regard- less of what and who may oppose me,” Bob clearly saw that the man before him was a knave in the fullest sense of the word, but he was not by any means so alarmed as Bargrade would have had him. He had friends who would stand up fer bim in an emergency, and he would probably have invited his visitor to drive on his team had it not occurred to him that there was a better way —— sitting there and acting like a stubborn mule. He had struck a mystery which he wished to solve, and the best way to do it was to act craftily. “Strikes me you’re mighty hard on a kid,” he said, forcing a faint whimper. ‘“‘ Tf you are sensible, you’re all right.” ‘‘T don’t b’lieve in givin’ away all I know.” ‘Isn't it better than to get into trouble?” Bargrade’s voice had grown persuasive, for he thought that the boy was yielding. Bob fixed his gaze on the five dollar note. “You say you'll _ that ef I speak right out in ther caucus, do ye?” ‘$i do.” ‘‘Then I'll shout, though it ain’t no great pile I kin tell ye Ez fur whar he come from, it was out o’ Den Magee’s liquor-shop, which is nigh whar ye found ther old chap wallowin’ on ther sidewalk.” Bargrade looked disappointed, and then gazed met at his companion. ‘*Are you sure?” he asked. ‘Casually speakin’, I’m pop-sure.” ‘*Did you see him come out of there?” ‘Wal, sca’cely that, but he were nigh ther door when my optics fell onter bim, an’ he couldn’t hey come from nowhar else. Set it down as right from ther keerd.” Bargrade did not answer at once, but Bob saw that his little fiction was working well. He did not, by any means, intend to put his visitor on the right track, and as it was not likely that Wellburn bad been near Den Magee’s saloon, it was a good place to which to direct suspicion. ‘“What did Wellburn—that is, the drunken man, I mean—what did he say?” ‘Wal, be said all sorts o’ unccmplimentary things oo whisky, an’ seemed ter feel measly mean about tein’ drunk; but it were sorter mixed up an’ vague, an’ 1 dunno w’ot the words was now.” ‘‘ Didn't he say anything to show what he had been doing during the evening?” ** No. he didn’t, but, judgin from ther way he acted, I should say he’d been swillin’ down a owful sight o’ whisky, 0’ ther kill’-em-quick eentlny ther same that makes a man feel, ez it passes his gullet, ez though it were peelin’ his toe-nails right off.” Bargrade asked other questions, but he learned nothing. Bob answered with an eppearence of sincerity, though taking great care what he caid. That bis manner deceived the questioner was shown by the fect that, when the subject — exhausted, he passed over the five-dollar note. He then arose. ‘‘T'm sorry that you can’t tell more, but VU take the will for the deed.” job rattled the crisp note. “Do you usually pay like this, mister?” “Wh J NA olete) Cc