Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 516 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

z Tartar Tim. command. His informant looked at him more sia 7 ‘* Had you friends on the Express?” x OB, The reply was in a husky voice, ‘*Then I am sorry that I spoke so hastily, for my statement was exaggerated. I spoke in gen- eral, rather than definite, terms. There has been an accident, and the cars were shattered more or less, but the dispatch says that no one was seriously injured. Sorry I alarmed you, sir; pray pardon me.” The late questioner’s face cleared, and. he managed to smile. He was one of several per- sons who were waiting in the Grand Central Depot, New York, for the belated train. e was aman of about fifty years, tall and slender of form, with adark face, black hair, and black side-whiskers. Judging trom his ex- ression, he might have been a misanthrope, e had a severe expression—that of a man who would assuredly tell you, if you said anything whatever on the subject, that this world was a hard, unsympathetic, poor sortof a world. He was well dressed, however, and would have passed as a very respectable-looking man, Recovering from the shock so thoughtlessly given him, he proceeded to make inquiries con- cerning the Express. Learning that it would arrive in about one hour, he sat down in the waiting-room and devoted a part of his time to an evening paper. His mind, however, appeared to wander— perhaps he was still worrying about the Express train. Nevertheless, that train arrived in due time, according to the new arrangement, and the peo- ple began to pour out. He had taken a promi- nent position, and was watching eagerly. Sud- denly his face brightened, and he moved forward to one of the late passengers, It was a very pretty girl of eighteen years, neatly dressed, refined and attractive. In one of her bands she carried a small traveling-bag and a still smaller, coquettish-looking basket of colored strands. A charming girl she surely was, yet a close observer could have told by her apparel, and complexion, that her home was not in New York. Evidently she was from the country. The man moved quickly to her side. ** My dear Stella, [am delighted to see you.” ‘* And I am even more pleased to see you.” Her face evinced her sincerity, yet the kiss which they exchamped was not particularly warm. Seth Maudstan was Stella’s uncle, but their acquaintance had been only nominal, and marked warmth was not to be ex ; ‘*T have been terribly worried about that ac- cident,” Maudston continued. ‘* And J have been terribly frightened by that accident,” she replied, assuming a light air. ‘** You know that Iam not accustomed to tray- eling, and I thought it a rude experience, but no harm was done, and—I amin New York!” ‘* Yes, and under my care, at least. Rest as- sured, your troubles are over. But we won't stay here. I have acab outside—let.us go to it at once,” They left the depot, and proceeded to a cab which stood apart from those belonging to the less fortunate drivers. This particular vehicle was engaged, and John could sit on the box and calmly watch his brethren wrangle for cus- tomers, ‘‘Here is our carriage, Stella, I have pur- chased a painting this evening, and putit inside, which leaves searcely room for both of us. BS ok mind if I ride beside the driver, will ou me Certainly not,” the girl answered, though she would much rather have had bis company. ‘Don’t slip in getting in—let me take your baggage. There you are, all safe, Now, I'll mount beside the driver. It will not be an agreeable seat, but it will do very well.” He closed the cab door, and Stella Fielding settled down for the ride, The picture before alluded to was large, and did take up consider- able room, but she found space enough for her- self and the few articles she carried. The cab moved away, passing through Forty- second street tc Third avenue. Then it pro- ceeded down-town. Stella sat in the dusky in- terior and thoughtfully watched the flashing lights and illuminated shops by the way, but, by accident or design, never released her hold on the parti-colored basket she carried. The trav- eling-bag lay unheeded on the seat, but she held to the basket in a way which would have caused an we aaa to think that it was unusually val- uable. Suddenly there was a jolt, jar and shock. The cab and another vehicle, in attempting to move through the narrow space left by a pass- ing street-car, had collided, No damage had been done to either, but there was the usual amount of loud talk and recrimination on the part of the drivers. They separated, and moved on, before a crowd had time to gather. At the moment of the accident, however, a boy of about fifteen years had been just oppo- site them, on the sidewalk, This astute youth nad anticipated the collision, and the result made him smile broadly, for some reason. Suddenly his smile vanished, and a look of wonder took its place. He stared until the vehicles went on, and then, thrusting his hands deeply into his pockets, exclaimed: ‘*Criminy! ef that ain’t a queer go, my pame ain’t Tim Thistle!” What had he seen to surprise bim? None of the other observers had been similary affected, and it seerred that his sharp eyes had seen some- ie) which had escaped the notice of all others, at was it? Tim Thistle did not see fit to explain, but as he walked on, he audibly observed: ‘* Ef natur’ sometimes does that way, I’m glad she made an exception in my case,” Stella had lost her fear after the first shock, and she smiled quietly as they went ahead. Collisions seemed to be the order of the day, or, rather evening, with her. Finally the cab stopped again, and, after a pause, Mr. Maudston opened the door and looked in. ‘“* Getting weary, Stella?” ‘** Not particularly.” ‘“* We are nearly home. Yonder is my grocery store—the place where I trade, I mean—and [ have sent the cab-driver in to give an order for me, I thought that I would not leave you, con- sidering—well, you know why!” There was a perceptible significance in the last words, and Stella quickly answered: ‘*T understand, and you are both kind and thoughtful.” ‘* You have the basket all safe?” **Oh! yes.” The driver returned. ‘* They’ll send the coffee early in the morning, sir,” he announced, addressing Maudston. ‘Allright. Now let us end the journey.” Mr. Maudston again mounted to the box; the cab went on; and in a few minutes they drew up before a plain, but very respectable-looking house on Seventeenth street. This was Maud- ston’s home, and he proceeded to escort Stella in. There they were met by her uncle’s wife; a slight, pale woman. She may be described in a few words, from the standpoint of their social world. She was honorable, conscientious and gentle, but lacking in force of character—ter- ribly lacking, in that respect. She was considered as ing as nearly a non- entity as a human being could be, She kindly, gently welcomed Stella, and, in a few minutes, all went: to thesupper-table. Curi- ously enough, Stella only laid down the fancy basket, when removing her wraps, and even then she watched it jealously. When she ate, it stuod on the table beside her; when they went to the parlor, afterward, she took it with her. Then, for the first time, Maudston gave it close attention. . ‘*'You had better take out your jewels and place them in the safe, at once,” he said. ‘‘The basket can now be dispensed with; it has done its work well, but its work is past. The cover of the basket was secured with a oe This the girl touched, and the cover ew up. A piece of cloth, which seemed to cover something neatly, lay exposed to view. If any one had been watching Stella at that moment he would have been surprised to see the strange, startled expression which flashed over her face, She caught the cloth and flung it aside, A second cloth was below, rolled in a loose ball. She hurriedly opened this, her hands trembling and her face growing paler, butas it spread out without revealing anything in the way of con- tents, a gasping cry escaped her. lips, = ig What's the matter, Stella?” Maudston asked, in evident surprise. ‘* The jewels are gone !” ‘* Gone?” ‘* Merciful Heaven, yes!” ‘What do you mean? How can that be?” ** I don’t know; I only know they are gone.” ‘Then you have met a pickpocket, after all.” ‘* Impossiblé! The et has not left my hands since I put the jewels in at home, and no one could have taken them out.” “Tt don’t seem that you could have left them at home,” and Maudston looked blankly into her anguished face. ‘“‘Nor did I leave them. How could I leave them? I put them into the basket myself, and, as I said before, it has not left my hands since.” ‘* You forget the railroad accident.” ‘** I held to the basket even then.” ‘*Are you sure? Possibly you left it on the cushion a moment, being excited, and—” ‘*[T did not leave it an instant, I repeat that it has not left my hands at all.” ‘* Yet the jewels are gone.” sé Yes,” Stella spoke brokenly, and then, woman-like, anv into a chair and began to weep piti- ully. It was a serious matter to her. She hadcome to New York to sell these jewels, and the pro- ceeds were to go toward paying off a mortgage on her father’s homestead, r. Fielding was old and broken in heaith; misfortune had over- taken the family, and they had reached the point where the family jewels must be sold, or the homestead leave their hands. The jewels had been expected to bring three thousand dollars, though worth more than that. Fielding had once been a man of means; these valuables had been all that was left of their for- mer affluence—and now they were gone! Was it any wonder that Stella wept bitterly? She was young and brave, and felt capable of enduring a good deal, but she had believed that the loss of their home would prove her poor old father’s death-blow. She had come to New York with high hopes—she was now in the depths of despair. ‘* This Maudston. ‘* [t is terrible!” sobbed the girl. ‘* Reflect, my dear. Can’t you fix the moment of the robbery? Perhaps the fringe of a wo- man’s shawl, or the button of a man’s coat, caught in your own garments—she, or he, apol- ogized politely, and then went away?” ‘* Nothing of the kind occurred,” ‘*Or some person oc¢upied the other half of the seat with you, and dropped a coat or wrap over the basket?” ** No, no; I sat entirely alone, and nothing was put over the basket by any one.” ‘*Or, when you were leaving the car, some one pressed against you, apologized politely, and—” ‘* No such thing happened.” ‘*Then I am at a loss. These, and other tricks, are practiced by sharpers, but I am, as I said, baffled. Did you open the basket at all?” is most extraordinary,” muttered ‘* Not once. That would have been contrary to your directions,” “2 rue,” Mr. Maudston stared at the empty basket a moment in silence, and then sadly added: ‘* They are gone, sure enough,’ ‘Yes, and oh! Uncle Seth, this will kill my father!” sobbed the girl. ‘*Great heavens! no—it must not; it shall not!” Maudston energetically declared, ‘‘ Stella, give me charge of this matter, and don’t write the mournful news home. We have detectives here who are as keen as briers, and oue of them shall at once be put on the track. I will gladly bear all the expense. I know just the man—a private detective, named Badger. The name is appropriate, too, for he isa very Vidocq when on a case.” ‘* Do you really think he will find them?” ‘If mortal man can do it, Badger will, Yes, I do think he can find them. He’ll see right into this matter, Badger will.” Mr, Maudston spoke so confidently that hope returned to Stella’s heart. Her face brightened a little, and she gratefully replied: ‘* You are very kind, indeed, Uncle Seth, and it shall be as you say. My father’s life, I be- lieve, depends on the recovery of the jewels.” CHAPTER IL. A BURGLARY IS PLANNED. ‘GREAT gipger! how’s this fur an ad.? I’ve seen pecooliar ones afore, but this sorter claps the climax. It does, assooredly!” ‘s peeeory want ter give-away a million dol- ‘* Ef they does, it ain’t apperient on the sar- face. Open yer ears arnd listen, my b’loved contemporary, arnd you shall hear. Foller me clos’tly !” The speaker cleared his throat, and read as follows: “WANTED! “A boy, fourteen or fifteen years of age, to run errandsand make himself useful. Good home guar- anteed. He must be agreeable, polite, honest, will- ing, gentle and fond of cats.” Then followed the address. The boy who had read this advertisement, and | | (G| 80 )(@) €om Ss (Ele) — — a > eee ae ee ——