Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 516 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

i0 Tartar Tim. Betty. Near them was the safe. It had been drawn into the middle of the room, and the door was open. ‘“‘Ah! Philip Henry, are you here? I am Mac glad, for I want your advice,” said Miss es. Basil given. Let me slide ter the station like a bed-bug on a hot griddle, arnd get a pla- toon o’ p’lice. You've be’n robbed, ain’t ye?” ‘* Yes. Two huncred dollars, and some valu- ables not in cash, have been taken away. I think it is a shame!” Miss Sykes was as indignant as was possible for one of her gentle nature, but the loss, in it- self, did not seem to worry her much. She had po of money, and was not one to break her eart in such a case. ‘It’s a burnin’ shame!” Phil echoed, ‘‘ but when them cops git byar they’ll sift this thing down fine. [ll go at once, arnd them pestifer- ous critters shall pay back that ’ere money, arnd beg my pardon fur the way they tied me up, or I’m an Ananias. Assooredly! Keep up yer grit ontel [ fetch the brass buttons!” He flitted out of the house, and when he re- turned, was accompanied by two policemen. It was easy for him to see how the burglars had entered—they had come in just as Phil had warned Miss Sykes that such characters could come. Once in they had chloroformed Miss Sykes and Betty, and tied up Phil, and then rifled the safe and other parts of the house. The officers soon decided that if a clew had been left it must be in the suape of footprints in the rear yard—there was nothing of the kind inside. Phil accompanied them to the yard, but soon returned with a long face. ‘* Miss Sykes, mum, I hev bac news fur you?” “ What is it?” ‘The burglars ketched some o’ yer cats out romenardin’, I reckon, fur one o’ the helpless innocents lays out in the yard, foully assicksi- nated—deader’n a curb-stone. Poor Hannibawl is the victim. Miss Sykes, mum, it don’t matter now whether he had typhoid fever or rhoomatiz.” “My r friend! The dreadful men!” cried the old lady, far more shocked than when she found her money missing. Phil consoled her all that he could, and the murder of Hannibal was dismissed for the time as the policemen came in to report. They had not been able find any footprints whatever, and they suggested that they go out and interview patrolmen on neighboring beats, and resume the search at the house, if necessary, in the morn- ing. Nobody objected, and the policemen went, but Phil did not again retire. He kept guard all night, wishing that the burglars would re- turn. He little suspected what would be the results of the visit already made by them. CHAPTER X. A GIRL’S STRANGE WHIM. Two weeks passed, and though it was a period of time which made its impression in various ways, nothing occurred which need be described here in detail. Miss Sykes’s burglars had not been found. The captain of the precinct took hold of the case with zeal, but nothing came of it. Five Points Phil remained in the house, and had accomplished at least two things. He had won Miss Sykes’s confidence and regard, and the deep enmity of the harpies—Miss Frazer and Mr. Maudston. In him they sawa shrewd friend of the old lady—he was dangerous—they hated him. Tim Thistle had not found a trace of @aptain Tiger, Jed Jackley or the other members of the gang. Hehad watched at the window, and hunt- ed outside, but all in vain. Neither bad Stella Fielding’s jewels Leen found. Derriby, Mr. Maudston’s detective, made a good deal of show, but he did not find the jewels or the thieves. Maudston still ex- apreeed confidence in him, but a change had come over Mr. Maudston. He was looking hag- gard, and was morose and nervous. Something must have occurred to disturb him—business cares, probably. In any case, he was ill at ease and troubled about re Mr. Elbert Bainbridge had kept his threat and put the experienced detective before referred to upon the track, but he had not restored the jewels. If he had made any discoveries, he did not reveal them to even Harry Shelby. The most noticeable matter of these two weeks was the growth of the friendship between Shelby and Stella. The former had ‘‘called again,” not once only, but several times, and it became an evident fact that the young people were very much interested in each other. Mr. Maudston tolerated, rather than encour- aged this, but Elbert Bainbridge did more. He arranged matters so that Steila could visit his house without the least breach of decorum, and when there she and Harry had no Argus-eyed watchers to disturb their interviews. Stella had been admitted to the secret that Bainbridge had put another detective on the trail of the jewels—his name, in this story, may be put down as Brown—and she had held sev- eral interviews with him, giving such informa- tion as he desired. At the end of two weeks Bainbridge felt sure that his hopes would be realized; that Harry and Stella would finally marry. The time of her stay in New York was limited, so Harry made the most of it, and advanced as far as he would otherwise have done in two months, or more, One evening he called upon her at Maudston’s, and, before he went away, drew a brown box from his pocket. ‘*May I ask you to accept a smail present from me?” he said, with a light air. She touched the spring of the box, and the cover flew up. A satin-lined interior was re- vealed, and minute bluish-white rays of light seemed to shoot forth to meet her. There lay a diamond pin and pair of earrings. Stella’s cheeks flushed, and when her eyes were raised to Shelby’s face, they sparkled al- most as much as the diamonds. ‘* These—do you mean—are they for me ?” ‘* For you, Stella,” ‘* But they will eclipse me entirely. I never wore diamonds, even when I had some of my own—l mean those that were stolen.” ‘*Eclipse you! Never! I can only say that some new gem ought to be found just for you, rarer even than these.” ‘* Now, you flatter me.” ‘* That is impossible.” ‘*T haven’t the heart to dispute you, you are so kind. But thes» diamonds—I don’t know how to thank you, they are so splendid.” ‘‘'The simplest of thanks will repay me well,” Shelby declared. ‘* You are as kind as ever, and—I thank you a thousand times. They are beautiful.” She had lifted the jewels and was examining them with all the rapt interest and admiration which her sex bestow on such things, and they glittered and gleamed as only diamonds can. But the diamonds did more. Shelby was en- couraged to speak plainly, and before he went away that night he had asked her to become his wife, and had received a favorable reply. The evening bade fair to be a memorable one. He walked home like one treading an aerial way, so oblivious was he to all around him; but he did not think of the diamonds again until he had retired. Then he had a really practical thought. ‘* | hope these jewels will not be stolen, as the others were.” The idea troubled him for a moment, and he wished that he had cautioned her, but finally dismissed the matter. It was not likely that his gift would be molested. It had taken some little sacrifice on his part to buy them. In his own name he had no money, though his uncle’s purse, as before stated, was always open to him. In making this present to Stella, he had felt that he must give her some- thing that would be his gift in the full sense of the word; so, instead of asking Mr. Bainbridge for money, he had denied himself certain things which had seemed necessary, and purchased the diamonds. The money had been the income of a suit he had conducted in court, and there was satisfac- tion in using it. But what if Stella lost the jewels? When she appeared at the table the next morning, her looks and manner seemed to have changed. Maudston noticed it at once, and asked if sbe was ill. She replied that she had not slept as well as usual, having suffered with a headache, and then tried to dismiss the subject. Maudston humored her, but continued to use his eyes, It was clear to him that something was wrong, He went away after breakfast, and circum- stances indicated that Stella was glad to see him go. Half an hour later she, too, left the house, going out when Mrs. Maudston was not near, and hastened away. She went divectly to Irving Place, called at a certain house, inquired for a certain person, and was soon in the presence of a keeu-eyed man of middle age. This was Brown, the detective en- gaged by Mr. Bainbridge to find the stolen jew- els, He greeted her pleasantly, and then suddenly added: ia is wrong, Miss Fielding? Are you i Stella made a slight, but impatient, gesture. The repetition of Hn : i Maudston’s inquiry did not seem to please her. ‘*T am not, except that I suffered last night with a severe headache, and lost sleep thereby. I have come to see you on business, Mr, Brown.” ** Concerning the lost jewels?” sé Yes. 9 ‘* A shall be glad to consult, Anything new?” Stella’s face bore a firm expression, but she did not meet Brown’s gaze with her usual frank- ness, Her owu gaze was averted. ‘IT wish to say, Mr. Brown, that I am very well satisfied with the way you have conducted the case, and to thank you for your zeal; but I have decided not to have any further search made, believing that it will-be best otherwise, so I wish to say, with repeated thanks to you, that you need devote no more time to the case.” The detective sat looking at the girl wonder- ingty. He did not mind the dismissal, for he had plenty of other work, and had only taken this case to oblige Harry Shelby, but he knew at once that there was far more in the dismissal than was visible on the surface. ‘‘Isn’t this a sudden decision?” he slowly asked, ‘*Not particularly.” ‘‘ Have you recovered the jewels?” “NO, air” “Have you given up hope of recovering them ?” } 4 Yes. ” ‘But I told you, yesterday, that you should have them back,” ‘*T have changed my mind,” Stella answered, nervously. an a way?” ‘*T have decided to have the search abandon- ‘*But I am sure this would not please Mr. Bainbridge and Harry Shelby.” ‘‘The jewels were mine,” said Stella, more a ‘‘True; but Lam employed by them.” ‘*T think that I havea right to say whether the search for my own property shall go on,” and the girl’s manner became both peremptory and defiant. ‘*That is true, but—” The detective ceased speaking, and, while eenly studying her face, also analyzed the posi- tion she had assumed. He knew that somet ing new and unexpected had occurred; that she de- sired to have the search abandoned without ex- lanation; that she was nervous and troubled; ut all his professional intuition did not help him to understand her motives. In his long career he had seen other persons act like this, but they were those who had a guilty secret to conceal. “‘TIt is hardly satisfactory to me to have the case dropped without knowing why it must be SO ? ‘** Call it my whim, Mr. Brown.” ‘‘ A strange whim,” he dryly replied. ‘*No doubt; but what can you expect of a woman?” She said this with an attempt at go esata and then abruptly rose. For reasons best known to herself she felt that she had endured this in- terview as long as she could, and she was pain- fully anxious to gen away at once, Somewhat to her surprise, the detective did not oppose her departure, and she went, carrying her secret, whatever it was, with her. The detective conducted her out as politely as though nothing unusual had occurred, and they parted at the door the best of friends, it seemed. Brown, however, watched her as she walked up the street, a thoughtful frown on his face, ‘There are more things in Heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our simple philosophy. Now, here is a little woman with a secret—one which pains and troublesher sorely. She refuses to have her jewels restored. Why? Possibly I shall never know, but unless Shelby unites with her in dismissing me, I will know, I'll call on him at once. Here is a tremenaous mystery, and I am bound to solve it!” CHAPTER XT, TIM THISTLE ACTS THE RESCUER, ** At last!” Tim Thistle breathed, rather than spoke, tha words in a tone of exultation. He was sitting at the window of his room where he had sat so much, of late, watching—always watching—for Leonidas Palgrave. The patience which he had exhibited had been something remarkable in one so young, and more like that of an Indian. Yes, his watching was at last rewarded; Pal- grave had appeared and entered the next house.