Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 485 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

enna eae < creagaesage Ye ty. o> ie a ee a) Weert Rg te ee ete ee a ‘ Eee eS it Thar” Owney, the Unkno —— Scrawny, hardly knowing what he did, followed | Cripps back until he fell against the stair-railing ‘Crook Cripps into the doorway and hastily but soft- ly closed the door, He found bimself in darkness black as Erebus, through which he could hear the rapid but suppress- ed breathing of Cripps. There was the noise of feet outside the door, and then a voice said: *‘They must have gone into one of these houses. Isaw three of them, and one I would swear was Crook.” ‘**What would he be doing around here?” asked another voice. ‘* Didn’t you have your hand on him in Union Square not an hour ago?’ **T know it, and didn’t he get away from me? I tell you he is in one of these houses, and | am going to have him out. He is too good a haul for me to let him go when I have him right in my grasp.”’ There was a subdued rattling as a key entered the lock, ‘* Why didn’t I bolt that door?” muttered Scrawny to himself. “This is a nice position for a square man to find himself in.” © The fumbling at the lock continued, but so far the door had kept fastened. **Suppose we will either be arrested or shot for burglars.’ grumbled Serawny. under his breath. “*Darned if I won’t make that big fool, Jim Cripps, pay for this!” The place was evidently a large boarding-house where the sound of people walking about the hall and stairs at all hours of the night and morning was too common to excite comment or Sa ‘* Cripps!’’ whispered Scrawny, softly. “ Well?’ replied that wortby, ** Where are you?” ‘** At the foot of the stairs.” “What are we to do?”’ ‘*Dunno, The cops will be in here directly. They seem to know where we are,” returned Crook Cripps, as he moved quietly up two or three stairs. He had made up his mind to a plan of action and Scrawny would have to look out for himself, The old saying that there is “‘honor among thieves’’ has been long sincs proved to be a mere empty phrase. Your professional crook is an essen- tially selfish creature, and will as a rule sell his best friend to save himse‘f, j Scrawny was crawling along the wall toward the staircase, He, too, had resolved to seek safety by way of the stairs. The fumbling at the door continued, The officer was evidently determined to gain ad- mittance and without disturbing the inmates of the house. Crash! The door flew open suddenly, and the stout, quiet- looking man, who had attempted to arrest Crook Cripps in Union Square tumbled headlong into the hall, closely followed by a tall, slim officer, apparent- ly under command of his companion, There was a: cuffling on the stairs, as Cripps and Scrawny tumbled against each other in their mad haste to retreat. “There they are!’? ejaculated the stout officer. *“‘ Where is your lantern?’ The slim men produced a bull’s-eye lantern, and turned the light on the top of the first fhght of stairs where two pairs of heels were just disappearing around the corner. Up the stairs ran Serawny and Cripps, and after them went the two oflicers, There were no carpets on the stairs and the shoes of pursuers and pursued made a tremendous noise. but it did not seem to disturb any of. the sleepers in the house. Serawny and Cripps both had the same object in view—to reach the top floor and thence get to the \ roof. Once among the ch mneys, sloping roofs and par. Piston they hoped to be able to give the officers the slip. “Tbs no use, Crook Cripps; the fame is up,” puff- ed the stout officer, as the r. ys of the laniern show- ed the farmer like habiliments of the former whisk- ing around the corner of the last flight. “Dunno about that,” muttered Cripps, between his set teeth. “‘Tli have a fight for it, anyhow,’ He reached the top floor and Jooked up in the dim light derived from a window on the staircase, There was the trap-door Jeading to the roof, half- open, and just strug’ting through it by (he aid of a rope, was Scrawny Will, The rope was Still hanging down, and Cripps grasped it. ; Then, it was snatched from his hands from above, as the trap shut with a bang. “Surrender, Crook,” said the officer once more, presenting a pistol full at Cripps’s face, ‘*Never!? shouted Cripps. ** You haven’t got me yet. Tom Blodgett.”’ ~ He threw himself upon the officer and seized the pistol hand, while he shot out his f. ot and entangled it in the slim man’s long legs. Down went the slim man in the corner, while Cripps and the stout officer, Tom Blodgett, struggled desperately for the possession of the pisrol, 7 wy swayed to and fro on the narrow landing, but without saying a word, and not making as muc noise as might have been expected, — It was more a dead solid pull—a direct trial of the comparative strength of muscle between the two m-n—than anything else. The slim officer was wedged in between a table in the corner and the wall, and cou!d give no assistance to his brother officer, Cripps seemed to have sinews of steel and Tom - Blodgett could not get his pistol turned on his ad- - for a second. Vv At last, by a superhuman effort, Blodgett forced that protected the edge of the landing. There was a crackling noise, an ejaculation from both the officer and his adversary and down went Cripps to the stairs below, while Blodgett just man- aged to save himself from plunging over also. The stair rail had been smash:.d and torn into splinters. ; Cripps, by sheer good luck, had fallen on his eet. He was unburt, ‘**By Cesar! he shall not get away,” said Blod- gett, as ne leveled his pistol at Cripps’s flying form and fired. The ball tore into the wall at the side of Cripps | anid sent the plaster in all directions, but did no fur- ther damage. ‘*Not yet, Tom Blodgett,” yelled Cripps, with a sneering laugh, as he reached the hall and dashed toward the street. The door was open, and Cripps was safe for the present. ‘*Fooled, by gracious!’ said Blodgett, as accom- panied by the slim officer, he walked slowly down the stairs, in a blaze of light derived from a dozen lamps and candles in the hands of boarders who had come out to see what the firing and scuffling meant, ‘*What is all this?” said one stout lady in a long crazy-patch wrapper, who was evidently the landlady. * Police!”” was the reply. “Please call at the 106th Precinct Station in the morning, and ycu will be recompensed for damage,” said Officer Tom Blodgett. “Sorry to have disturbed you. Good- night.’ And no one noticed that standing in the doorway of a room on the top floor, where the scuffle between Blodgett and Cripps had taken place, was,a pale, frightened virl, who had seen her father in deadly yeril, and yet had not dared to say or do anything in his behalf. The pale, frightened girl was Crook Cripps’s daughter May, whom we last saw standivg in Union Square at midnight, with “Git Thar Owney,” the Oarsman. CHAPTER V. OWNEY GETS A CLEW AND LOSES IT. Wuen Crook Cripps beat such a hasty retreat from Union Square, with the officers in pursuit | ; i a leaving his daughter to fate, Owney felt that he had | struck good luck, evenif attended by embarrassing circumstances. He pad seen a valuable diamond necklace (the hope of recovering which had brought him to New York) around May’s neck, and he argued that as long as he had bis eye on her he was sure to be near the neck- lace, and could claim it whenever he saw proper to do so. ‘Your father has left vou rather unceremonious- ly. Where do you live?’ asked Oey, when the young girl had alittle recovered herself, and was looking helplessly around. *“T do not know,’’ she answered, simply. ‘* We live in Pittsburg when we are at hom, but in New York I only go where my father takes me, We ar- rived here yesterday morning, and he said he was going back to-morrow. But now—he—he—scems to have got into some trouble, andI don’t know what to do. The girl wrung her hands in an agony of terror as the full realization of ber situation seemed to over- whelm her. Owney’s heart was touched. He was only twenty years of age, and looked a good deal younger, and though he had beena detec- tive for two years past, and in that time had seen enough of crime and misery to make him callous under ordinary ¢c reumsiances, he never could gaze on innocence or distress unmoved, His youthful appearance had acquired for him the sobriquet of the ** Infant Detective,’’ but his prowess in all kinds of athletic sport, particularly rowing, rroved that he was anything but an “infant” as ar as thew and sinew were concerned. * Whret hotel has your father been stopping att” asked Owney. “We did not stop at any hotel, but ata private house somewhere near Sixth avi nue,” replied the rirl, ‘*He said to-vizht that we should go to—to— the Sinclair House, I think was the name.”’ * Well, you had better Ict me take you there, so that you can find out if he has made any arrange- ments for you.’’ said Owney. ‘My name is Wilson, and Iam a drygoois clerk.” _Owney wished to resssure the young girl, even though he felt compelled not to disclose his real name, \ But he need not have troubled himself. May Cripps was too innocent and unsophisticated to have any fear. he accepted Owney’s offer, and trotted away with him to the Sinclair House as trustingly asif she had known him all her life. They walked through Union Square and turned the corner of Fourteenth street into Broadway. That part of the city was lively enough. as it always is in the summer, and Owney and his companion threaded their way among the couples going home from the theaters, knots of young men making a night of it, and raising as much noise as they dared inthe presence of the members of the Broadway lice slowly perambulating the stately thorough- are, and the miscellaneous wayfarers indigenous to the metropolis. ‘* What is your father’s business?” asked Cwney. ‘* He is an agent.” ‘* What kind of an agent?’’ **T don’t know.” a — — ll a ——EEE | M ’ wn. | a a b> TebSE & “Um!” ‘A general agent, Ihave heard him say,” added the girl. “Mighty convenient business, an agent,’’ muttered Owney to himself. “Does he often come to New York?” ‘Ob, yes; very often,’ ee! thought so,’’ was Owney’s inward remark, ‘* By the way,” said Owney, aloud, “I saw that you had a very pretty necklace on when you were sitting in the restaurant. I suppose it was a present from your father,” ‘** No,’’ returned the girl. “He did net give it to me. e only told me 1 cculd wear it a little while. It does not belong to him, be says. It is my Uncle Jim’s, and he brought it to New York to give him.” Owney pricked up his ears.. * Where is your Uncle Jim?” ‘* He lives somewhere in New York, but we have not seen him since we bave been here,”’ Owney whistled softly to himself. He did not believe the young girl knew anything about her father’s misdoings. Had |e thought so he would have put her under arrest at once, t : But he felt sure that with her unconscious assist- ance, he would be able to uncarth a nest of thieves who had engineered more than one neat job in Pitts. burg and sur ouncing towns, Of c_urse it was possible that he might be mis taken in the girl, and that she was playing a deep peme to throw him off the scent, but he could not ook into her child-like face and harbor such a sus- picion, and he dismissed it as utterly unworthy of a second thought. **Ob, look!’ suddenly shrieked May, as she started back in horror and pointed to the horses of a car- riage that was coming br'skly toward them. ‘They were spirited animals and the colored coach- man, half-asleep, did not seem to have them as thoroughly in hand as he should. They were clattering over the stones, tossing their heads and evidently in a hurry to get home, But whet had caused May to utter her cry of dis- may was the danger of a@ woman who had slipped down on the road just in front of the prancing, rear- ing horses. The driver saw the cried out, and tried back. His efforts were futile, however. it seemed as if nothing could save her from being trampled to dvath. \\ th one bound Owney wes in the road, One hand grasped the bridle of the nearest horse, while the other, with a mighty pull, lifted the wo- man out of danger. The horses dashed on. setting the coachman at de- fiance, and the wheels grazed the temple of the woman as she lay on the stones. It was a narrow escape, Owney assisted her to her feet, 6nd saw that she was a comfortable-lookit g matron of perhaps fifty years of age. ‘Indeed, then, sir, I’m much obliged to you. If you hadn’t hauled me eway just when you did, them pesky critters would have put their feet right on me chest and I would have been smashed flat as a griddle-cake. to you,” said hg rate woman just as May iis uimost to hold his horses “Glad to have been of service Owney. ‘Service, is it? "Deed then, it was a service, and if there is anything that Mandy Wilkins can do for you, why just call at my house over on—”’ Owney cid not catch any more, because he ran hastily to the sidewalk where he bad left May. She had stepped back toward the houses when Ownrey ran into the road, and was so intent on his movements that she had not ncticed two flashily- dressed young men who hed stopped too, ard were now starding cone on each side of her. But Owney noticed them. He suspected mischief. and that was wh not wait for the conclusion of Amanda remarks, But he was too late, The young men disappeared before he could get to May's side. Where bad the y gone? Owney looked at a dcor which apparently belong- ed to a respectable picture-store, and understood at ones where the young men had gone. He also knew that it would be no easy matter to catch them now. even if he wanted them, ‘“What did those fellows say to you?” he asked ay. Nothing.” ‘Ah, the impudent rascals! It is a wonder they didn’t,’ said the matron, joining in the conversa- tion. “I guess they were just pickpockets, They scare me’most to death, especially when I'm out late like this. I've just been over to Sixth avenue to see my daughter, which is very ill, and I must be getting home, and you'd better be m your father there take you home, too, It’s no time of ni ht for a young thing like you to be on the street.”” Owney smiled to himself at the idea of his being taken for the father of a girl only two or three years younger than himself; but the old lady’s mistake wae to him that his disguise was @ good one, and e was satisfied. The smile soon faded, however. 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