Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 460 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

“Tt is at the houses, awaiting a claimant. Do you think you know to whom it belongs?” Luke was not sure that he ought to tell what he had seen the night before, so he replied that he merely asked from a motive of curiosity. There was some further conversation, and the boy was about to approach the subject nearest | his heart when Mr. Harmon suddenly said: ‘“*T am now going to the church to do a little work. Would you like to look the place over?” It was a chance Luke did not neglect, and they were soon inside the edifice. Instinctively | the boy at once glanced around for signs of Marmaduke forks broken lamp, but neither that nor any other litter was visible on the smooth, clean floor. The. sexton took him around and called atten- tion to what he thought would be of interest, but Luke’s gaze often wandered to the door of the small room from which Tripp had taken the book out of which the leaf had been torn. As Mr. Harmon did not refer to it, he finally did so himself. ‘ “That,” explained the sexton ‘‘is where the records are kept.” ** What kind of records.” ‘Everything connected with the church for many years, except the most valuable papers. Our former pastor, who died two years ago, was a most systematic man, and all that was done during his pastorate of forty years is on | record here.” While speaking, the old man had taken a key from a niche and unlocked the door. Luke saw a small room, in which were several piles of large blank-books, but they differed a g-od deal in size and shape, and he was not long in de- ciding from which pile Tripp had taken the volume, He opened the book at the top with an air of carelessness, The first leaf bore an inscription in bold let- | ters, which was as follows: ‘MARRIAGE REGISTER, 1880 To 18—.” ‘‘In these books,” explained Harmon, “ are entered all the marriages performed since 1815. It is what may be called a supplementary rec- | ord, as it is in addition to records usually made, | and intended chiefly as a source of information | for those who may have occasion to make re- search—historians and others. We have our regular records, but these are a part of the pri- vate history of the church, which we make as | full as possible.” While speaking, the sexton had noticed that one of the books well down the line projected from the orderly position of the others, and he moved it into place. Luke glanced at its back, upon which was a paper with a date: ** 1865-6.” From the irregular position of the volume, Luke suspected that it was that from which he had seen the leaf stolen, and was anxious to set- | tle the doubt. But how could he do so without ¢ attracting attention? As though to help him, Harmon brought a duster and began brushing the books one after another, though there was litte to remove. Luke watched greedily, and when the book of ** 1865-6” was reached, lifted it and began turn- ing the leaves, at the same time apologizing for Bag ee. “‘Look at it all you wish,” the sexton replied, ‘‘and I will attend to the others. It is not so Bo old and curious as those below, but there is a good deal in it.” Luke turned the leaves with eager fingers, but took care not to exhibit haste. He was not disappointed; something like half the distance had been gone over when he came to’ the remnant of the stolen leaf. The ragged edge yet remained where Phineas Lorimer had torn it out, and he knew that he had found right place. He ooked at the date of the records which were on either side. All were of December, 1865. He had now gained one step in the quest. but what was on the missing leaf he did not know. Was it the record of Alfred Bering- brooke’s marriage? Considering that Tripp had said that it was necessary to destroy the record in order to crip- ple Alfred’s heirs, in case any one should happen on the record, this seemed probable. The young investigator was anxious to solve | this question, but as he could see no way, he ae the book without reference to the ab- stracted leaf, and the pile was arranged as before. He took little interest in the sexton’s further | proceedings, and when Harmon was ready to go, the | The Lawyer’s Shadow. he made no excusé to stay. The old man looked searchingly over the place, which he had that da neatly swept, and then they went away, | uke at once moved homeward. He went in deep thought. That he ought to do something in regard to the plot he had chanced to learn was clear, but _ he shrunk from going to officials of law and had no honest friend whom he could consult, What was he to do? ‘Tf I could only get trace of Alfred Bering- brooke’s heirs—Tripp says he left a family—I could tell them, and that would settle the whole case. But how can 1 doit? Tripp says he don’t know where they are, and I’m sure I know of no way to trace them. I wish I did.” All the way home he was busily thmking on _ this subject, but he could see no way of finding the lost heirs. He did not even know where Alfred Beringbrooke lived when he was married, in 1865, and it was not likely that he could get the information from the Littletons, If Peter was dishonest enough to take what really belonged to his brother-in-law’s heirs, he would not give out anything which would lead to their discovery. | Luke reached his room and went to bed with- | out seeing Ebenezer Hare. He was glad of this, _ for he feared that the landlord would press his point about overhauling Tripp’s desk, and he had so far thought of no way to meet his propo- sition. P The boy soon fell asleep, despite the weight of care on his mind, and for some hours his slumber was peaceful. Finally, however, he awoke with an idea that something was wrong. He glanced toward the window, through which came a faint light, and was surprised to see that, though he had left it down at the bot- tom, it was now raised as high as the lower sash would go. Almost at the same moment there was a noise beside his bed, and it flashed upon him that some interloper was in the room, He started up, butas he did so a dark form ' rose beside him, and before he could utter a cry, strong hands grasped his neck and he was borne violently back on the pillow. CHAPTER VII. LUKE LEARNS THAT HE HAS ENEMIES. THE superior strength of the unknown render- ed all Luke’s struggles useless, and a savage voice hissed in his ear: ‘* Not a word, you young hound, or I’ll shut off your wind completely.” He seemed liable to do tnis anyway, for his | Brasp was so harsh that the boy’s throat seemed eing torn to poy He gasped and kicked, but that was all he could do, The strong hands relaxed a little. ‘* Now, see here, 1 don’t care to harm you, if you keep still, though I'll carve youall up if you | ve I'm going to let go of your throat and | ind you, but I’ve got a knife here, and I'll give it to you if you salt out. Do you see it?” | He held one band up between Luke and the | window, and the knife wasdimly visible. Sight of it did not terrify the boy, however, whose | courage Was upinarms, Young as he was, he 'did not propose to remain idle and let this | burglar—or worse—have matters all his own : wy , | ith a quick, sharp movement he struck the hand which held the knife, and the weapon went spinning across the room. Then Luke | squirmed from under the man’s other hand to the | back of the bed. _ The unknown uttered an oath and sprung af- ter him. Then cameacrash. The bed was old and weak, and the sudden strain was too much for it; down it went to the floor with a racket _ audible all over the house. | Again the interloper swore roundly, for, in ad- dition to this noise, he had missed the boy. Luke sprung over the footboard, and then, as he _ saw his assailant rushing at him, seized a chair as & Weapon, There was no time for parley--he struck with all his force, Down came the chair, and down went the man. He had been hit hard, and he went to the floor just as Luke raised his voice and shouted for help. Through the old house rung the cry, and he plainly heard Ebenezer Hare on the move, Perhaps the unknown man heard the same thing; at any rate he clearly saw that his pur- pose was frustrated, and he struggled to his feet and made a rush for the window. __ Luke followed, but without the least pause his | late assailant sprung through. ' He - - - 4 : a ‘ > - . ~A Pox © & -. 4 A s W ¥ ¥ 4 i dewey around the corner. Although he had eaped from a second story window, the house was not high enough to make his risk so very great. Hare now appeared and excitedly demanded the cause of the uproar, and the time consumed in telling him was such it was clear pursuit would do no good. Whoever the man was, he had made off as safely as he had come, but investigation showed that nothing had been taken, and the object of his unlawful call was as much a mystery as ever. Hare bewailed the misfortune to his bed, but when it was found to be slight, recovered his equilibrium enough to congratulate Luke on his escape, ascribing the adventure to an ordinary burglar. Luke was by no means of this opinion, though he based his view of the matter more on presen- timent than tangible evidence. There was nothing in the whole house likely to gladden a burglar’s heart; much less in his own room, No, the boy felt sure that it had been a direct blow at him, and, once more, he was led to won- der if Lorimer and Tripp had suspected any- thing. He was obliged to go to bed unsatisfied, and no further trouble occurred that night. He was up bright and early, and, in moving about the room, he noticed on the floor a button which, certainly, had never belonged to him. Had the burglar lost it in the struggle? He ex- amined it carefully, but it was an ordinary but- ton and, except that it had probably come from a coat, revealed nothing. Going outside he found the unknown’s foot- prints plainly marked, and was studying their shape when a boy who lived in the next house, which was fifty feet away, approached. ‘* Hallo, Luke, what’re you doing?’ ‘*I think some burglar tried to break in last night,” was the guarded reply. ‘Gosh! you don’t say so! Don’t know what ke expected to find in Eb Hare’s rookery.” ‘You haven’t seen anybody prowling around, have you, Sam?” ‘No. Wait! ** When?” ** Last night.” ‘** How was that?” ‘** Well, you see I was out all the evening, and when I got along here, coming home, a man was standing just about there, looking up. I looked up, too, and saw the light in your room, and then the man saw me and scooted.” ‘* Well, it was a mighty lively walk.” Luke had grown a good deal interested. **Can you describe him?” ‘*T don’t know,” was the dubious reply, ‘* but I remember he looked like a dude, duondti he was as old as my father, I guess, He carried a cane and had a hat—a reg’lar boy’s hat— jammed down over one ear; and his coat was a short one. He came near being smooth-faced for he only wore a mustache, and that looked like a rat’s tail. “T'was waxed, and drawn out ! The boy illustrated, while Luke could hardly conceal his amazement. The description, as far as it went, might have been applied in every particular to Peter Little- ton. This fact flashed upon Luke at once, and with it came a recollection of the sharp, menacing gaze Tripp’s candidate for the Beringbrooke money had given him in the office. Could it be that he was the burglar? Could it be that he suspected the part Luke contem- plated asp, 3 to prevent Lorimer’s fraud from succeeding? Scarcely, for, in that case, he would notify the lawyer—yet, what meant the hostile glance, and the midnight invasion of his room? He questioned his boy acquaintance further, but without getting more light on the subject. The prowling man had not been seen by him after the events described. After drawing the outline of the footprints on a piece of paper, Luke started for the office. Probably he could tell by Lorimer’s and Tripp’s manner whether they suspected him, On the way he chanced upon Percy Littleton, who was selling papers on Chapel street. The boy was a weak, effeminate fellow, of about fifteen years, but he tried to dress like a dandy, and had a ridiculous air of dignity. Moreover, he was of a vicious, treacherous nature, acrd Luke had always seen fit to have but little to do with him. , Now, a sudden idea struck him, and he walked —— I ain’t sure but I have.” The boy reached the window and looked out. | directly to the boy, who looked at him suspi- was just in time to see the unknown disap- ciously. com i i ‘ : 4 ee