Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 460 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

8 ‘Hallo! How’s business, Percy?” ‘¢ Good,” was the reply, while Littleton pressed his papers tightly together, so that the size of his unsold package would not be so perceptible. Then he slowly added: lately.” No; business was so poor with me, I left off for a while.” ‘‘ Living on your income?” There was a sneer in the inquiry, but Luke saw fit to wholly disregard it. He shook his head soberly. ‘‘T find it hard to live at all.” Perey produced a cigarette and lit it with the air of a millionaire. ‘“‘T’'m going to retire,” he said loftily. ** Indeed!” ‘‘ Yes: we’ve had a huge fortune left us, and I'm going to take lifeeasy. Keep your eye on me, and you'll see me eclipse those Yale students, who buy papers of me as though they were princes. Li ttletons!” ‘Ts your family an old one?” ‘‘ Well, I should remark!” and Percy thrust his mght thumb into the arm-hole of his vest and swung his fingers like afan. ‘The Little- tons are Al stock, though—a—you see my fath- er’s ill-health has prevented his close application to business and society. On my mother’s side,” here Percy spoke slowly, as though his desire to pose as an aristocrat was leading him on to say what might not be wise, ‘‘ah! that’s where the blue blood comesin. She was a Beringbrooke. Ancient old family—rich as Rothschild!” ‘““The name does sound aristocratic,” agreed Luke, craftily. ‘‘ Tt fits like a glove. My mother knew what luxury and grandeur was. You know where Patsy Eagan lives?” 24 VY es. 7. ‘‘ Second house beyond there lives one Abner Groom. Ask him about the Beringbrookes, He was my grandfather’s servant, and cared for my mother and—ahem! the rest of the family.” Luke believed that he understood what had been on Percy’s li s when he checked himself. It was the name of his uncle, Alfred, whose de- scendants were the real heirs of the fortune left in England. Possibly, Perey had been warned by his father not to mention that uncle, but it was notin the boy’s nature to avoid boasting to a rival in business. At this moment a man on the opposite side- walk motioned for a paper, and as Percy tripped daiutily across to answer the call, Luke went on his way. ‘So there is an old servant living!” he thought. ‘‘Ill see him, and if he is a decent fellow, I may learn something about Alfred Beringbrooke. Aha! Master Percy, if this turns out as I hope, it may be you have boasted once too often!” Luke reached the office just in time, and once more he studied Lorimer and Tripp closely to see if there was anything to indicate that he was suspected. All seemed as usual, however, and some slight service which he performed with un- expected shrewdness led Lorimer to compliment him on his “‘ finesse,” and declare that such a level-headed boy was bound to make his mark. In point of fact, the lawyer was pleased, and thouzh he had not willingly let Luke into all the crookedness of his transactions, he believed that lhe had a boy who, under his teaching, would make asharp and tricky aider in his knavish schemes. The day passed without incident of_import- ance, except that Tripp once left the office, lobe ing his pores desk unloce.1, and then returned hurriedly and in some evident trepidation to close it. He looked sharply at Luke, but the latter was not near the desk, and seemed wholly absorbed in other work. So Marmaduke locked the desk and went out again, leaving Luke to wonder what secret the plain old desk held. He began to be as curious as Ebenezer Hare was anxious to see the inside. When the office closed the boy started for his room. j He was moving through a quiet street, and looking carelessly at a close carriage which stood by the curb-stone, when some one ran against him. Thinking that it was a drunken man he look- ed up quickly, but, as he did so, he was seized by strong aris, lifted and thrown inside the carriage. Then the vehicle whirled away, with Luke a helpless prisoner. ‘‘Haven’t seen you | The Lawyer’s Shadow. CHAPTER VIII. THE BIG MAN WITH THE WHIP. é‘ TuHIs bold deed had been so unexpected, and had been done so quickly, that Luke had time neither to resist nor call for help; and, so quiet | was the street, it did not seem to attract atten- ee expected, however, and tion from any outsider. By the time Luke recovered from his as- tonishment the carriage was moving rapidly away, and he was seated beside his powerful ab- ductor. The latter ostentatiously displayed an ugly- looking knife and growled: ‘“‘ Just you keep quiet, my young banty, or [ll give you five inches of this!” There was that in his face which showed he would keep his word, and the ge dared not make an outcry. He was cooler than might be he indignantly ex- claimed: sah! what are they compared to the | ae Naa LL LL ‘‘How dare you: molest me? What are you trying to do, anyway?” ** That’s my business.” ‘‘T should say it was mine, too.” ‘‘ Your business is to keep your jaw still. No yelling, do you hear? I mean _ busi- ness, every time; and I’d just as soon knife you as to eat. Ill do it, too, if you try to give the alarm.” ‘“ What do you want of me?” ‘* Want you to go with us.” ** Where?” ** You'll see, later.’ ‘* Haven't you made a mistake?” ** Not a mistake.” ‘¢ Well, I’d like to know what you want of me, and where you’re taking me.” Luke was growing cooler every minute, and his voice had a firmness whicn was not to be ex- pected, considering taat the big kidnapper held the knife close to his body all the time. One thrust would be fatal, and there was no mercy in the burly ruffian’s face. ‘‘ Don’t you try to know too much,” he growled. ‘‘ You'll get the tip soon enough, and don’t you think you won't. I ain't going to talk any more, so you may as well hush your chinning and wait till you're asked to talk.” There was no other way to do, and Luke sat in silence. The carriage was whirling away; he did not know where; and to what fate he was being taken was equally a mystery. Who were his captors? He did not remember ever seeing them before, but ke did remember the events of the previous night, and wondered if Peter Littleton had a hand in this fresh out- rage. **Can’t imagine why he’s so down on me, un- less he knows that I’ve been to the Gray Stone Church, and if he was ‘ onto’ that fact, I should suppose he’d tell Lorimer. It’s all a mystery to me. For nearly an hour the carriage rolled on, and then a sudden increase of darkness, and the pounding of the horse’s feet on wood showed that they had entered a stable or something of the kind. - His captor spoke again: ‘* We get out here, but I want to caution you again to keep your mouth shut. You won’t be harmed if you are wise enough to act sensibly; but this place isn’t going to be sized up by you, and you—but you'll see. Here we get out.” The speaet opened the carriage door, alighted and pulled Luke after him. They were in a drive-way to which came the odor of a stable; but the guide turned the other way, toward a rude door in an equally rude, white-painted brick wall. Luke felt a strong temptation to try and wrench away, but the drive-way had been closed and an effort would be lost time. Consequently he entered the house quietly. Night had clearly fallen, and they groped their way through a dark hall and then up a stair- way. Luke judged they were in the house of people who cared nothing for cleanliness, for the odor wzs anything but sweet. At the head of the stairs they entered a poor- ly-furnished room in which was burning a kero- sene lamp. ‘* Sit down!” ordered the man. Luke obeyed. “You needn’t be squinting around; there ain’t no loophole for escape,” his captor roughly added. The boy did not answer. Perhaps five min- utes passed, and then a rap sounded at the door. The big man answered it, and several whispered words passed between him and the unseen. Then the latter entered. Luke looked at him in surprise. Boots and pants showed near, and on, the floor, but from his neck to his knees he was enveloped in a -—-_—_-_— shawl, old and faded, through which openings had been made for his arms! At the neck this was met by another cloth which complétely covered the man’s head, except that holes were left for his eyes. It was a fantastic costume, but Luke under- stood at once that it was intended to serve as a complete disguise for the face, head and form of the wearer. While he was looking blankly, the big man had prepared a cord, and he now told Luke to put his hands behind him. The prisoner hesi- tated, but the murderous-looking knife was again peer and he said nothing. His hands were bound, and then the masked man advanced, but Luke stepped back a pace, ‘*‘ Look here,” he said, ‘‘ ’'d like some hght on’ this matter. The other man won’t talk, but perhaps you will. What does all this mean, anyhow? The masked man shook his head and motioned to his ally, who stepped behind Luke and grasp- ed both arms. Then the silent man thrust his hand into Luke’s pockets. “Tf you're after money, you'll fare badly,” said the boy, actually smiling. “I haven’t fifteen cents about me, as you’llsee.” Not a word answered the masked man, but, slowly and carefully, he went through every one of the prisoner’s pockets. He found abso- lutely nothing of value, and finally drew back and stood as though in thought. ‘* Perhaps I can help you out,” lightly suggest- ed Luke, who never lost his ** nerve.” The masked man motioned his ally aside, where they talked several seconds in subdued voices, Then the big man turned to Luke. ‘** Where’s that glove?” he asked. ‘* What glove?” ‘‘The one you found the other day.” ‘**T haven’t found any.” ‘‘Didn’t you find one in the graveyard?” A quick look of intelligence came to Luke’s face. The question explained and suggested a good deal. e remembered the man he had seen by William Hallock’s grave; his flight; the glove found the next day by the old sexton; and he remembered, too, the night visitor to his chamber. Had that person come for the glove, under the belief that the boy had it? According to his theory, the interloper had been the elder Littleton. Was the masked man he, also? ‘* Aha! I see you do know something about the glove,” said the big man. Luke hesitated for a moment, and then an- swered: ‘* | found no glove, but somebody else did.” * Who?” ‘** Pll tell that when you let me go.” ** You'll tell now.” ‘‘No, I shall not!” was the firm reply. ‘“‘I’ve got something to say about this matter, myself, and you can’t have the sole voice in the case. I’ve never seen the glove, and don’t care a cent about it. Let me go, and I'll tell all about it.” The big man glanced at his masked com- panion, who shook his head. The former then replied: ‘‘ We make no terms with you, You must tell now.” ‘*T decline.” ‘¢ Suppose I take a horsewhip to you?” ‘“That won't do any good,” ‘Do you mean to say you’d rather be whipped than to talk? Mind you, every blow will cut the skin. ‘*T don’t believe I should fare any better after telling,” Luke firmly replied, ** and I ask for a fair show. As I said, the glove is of no use to me, and I'll tell who has it if you will set me free. Tell it here I will not, and if you do me any harm, you'll never get your precious glove.” His fearless, stubborn air had its effect on the men, who then held another consultation. It was brief, and then the big man stooped and drew a heavy whip from under the old sofa, He cracked this above his head, and then pass- ed it over to his companion. ‘We'll see whether you'll talk!” he growled, and, catching the prisoner, threw him down across the sofa. ‘‘Weain’t to be fooled with, and we'll cut you into pieces if you sre stuffy. Oh! it won’t do you any good to scuirm. Hear the whip crack! It’s a wicked thing, you bet! Now, will you talk?” sé No.” ‘Then strike!” cried the big man, with an oath. CHAPTER IX. LEFT TO A TERRIBLE FATE, Tur whip cracked again over Luke’s head, but it did not fall.