Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 571 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

-_—_ Air-Line Luke, the Engineer Detective. _—---+ can generally trust his own eyes, I do not know what it is, but it is something.” ‘‘ Now, Luke,” said the superintendent, ‘‘ see here: Don’t you think that ‘ the thing’ is simply the gleam or reflection of the headlight on some part of the bridge or rails?” ‘‘ No, sir,” responded the young engineer, firmly: ‘‘I donot, I have seeu it several times now, and given it close attention.” ‘Do you believe in ghosts?” ** No, sir.” “And you want to undertake to solve this mystery, do you?” “Feu, ri" ‘‘Do you propose to try it alone?” tc I do.” ‘‘ Well, I believe I will let you try it. I can- not let you off until to-morrow, however, as I have no one to put in your place.” “That will do, for I guess the ghost has come to stay, and no doubt I shall find his Majesty at home when I call.” ‘‘ What do you intend to do?” ‘‘T shall go to the place and spend a night there.” ‘‘Good boy! You certainly have nerve, Luke, and I believe you will be able to solve the mystery. You cap depend upon it that there is some trick about it, or else it is some freak of nature producing the thing that you have seen, It must be explained as some sort of natural phenomenon.” ‘You may be right, sir, and I hope that I shall be able to clear the thing up and rob it of its terrors.” uel | pave you may.” “Well, then, you will let me off to-morrow night?” ‘‘ Yes, [ will have it arranged so that you will not have to goout. Do you desire more than one night?” ‘“‘T can make use of two, I guess,” answered Luke; *‘so you may as well let me off for a round trip while you are about it.” ‘* We will call it two nights, then. No doubt ou can spend one evening very agreeably at est Plain.” As tae superintendent said this bis eyes twinkled merrily, and Luke understood well enough what he was hinting at. When he left the office he felt glad in knowing that his service in the crisis of the previous week was appreciated, and also that his request had been granted. And he made up his mind to lay that ghost if it was in the power of man to do it. That night, while he was oiling his engine and getting ready to start out upon his run, a hand fell upon his shoulder. Looking up quickly he found himself in the grasp of a stranger—a man of middle age with a heavy beard, ‘‘Don’t get frightened, mister,” he said; “I am as harmless as a kitten. I only wanted to ask you if I could ride with you down to West Plain,” “Don’t trouble yourself about my getting frightened,” returned Luke, ‘for I am not one of the easily scared kind, And as for your riding down to West Plain with me, you can’t. It is against the orders for any one to ride on the engine,” ‘‘Where is your conductor, then?” the man demanded, ‘“1n the caboose,” Luke answered , ** but, un- less you can show good reasons I don’t think it will do you any good to see him. Who are you, anyhow?” The man laughed. “Don’t you know me sonet he asked, now speaking in a different ne, “Hang me if I do,” the young engineer ac- knowledged, as he took @ nearer view of the stranger. “Then my disguise must be about as perfect as it can be,” the man observed, | ‘*Not Wilson Hooper?” the young engineer exclaimed. ‘* Nobody else!” assured the detective, for he it was—the young man whom we introduced to the reader’s notice in the second chapter, in his interview with the West Plain banker. And here a few words of explanation. Luke Jackson and Wilson Hooper had known each other for some years, and were quite good friends. On one occasion Luke had assisted the detective in a case he bad on hand, and the de- tective had then promised him that if he could ever repay the obligation he would be glad to do so. And then some time later the detective had been able to render Luke a little favor, and so they were about even on that score, and were, as stated, good friends. As soon as the detective made himself known, the two shook bands warmly, and then Luke asked: ‘* Where are you going?” ‘‘ Well,” was the answer, ‘I wanted to go down to West Plain, but as you do not allow any one to ride on your miserable old freight train, I suppose I will have to wait for a Passenger.” ‘*No more of that, now,” Luke admonished; os if you want to ride down with me you may do SO, “Thanks. How soon do you start?” ‘Tn about ten minutes.” “‘Good! And you get to West Plain ahead of the Passenger that leaves here at nine, do you me ves,” ‘‘Then I shall be very glad of the chance to go down with you.” ‘‘Get right up in the cab there, then, and as soon as I finish oiling around I will join you.” The detective did as requested, and in afew minutes the young engineer was with him. ** Well, what have you got on hand this time?” Luke asked, as he put down his long-nosed can in the corner of the cab and wiped his hands with a piece of waste. ‘‘ Rather a peculiar one this time,” the detec- tive answered. ‘‘Iam afraid I havea big job on my hands,” ‘‘ No use to ask you to take me into your con- fidence, I suppose,” Luke hinted, with a grin, “Tf I did not know you as well as I do there would be no use of your hinting at such a thing,” was the detective’s response, ‘* but since I do know you, I will tell you something about it.” ‘* Just as you will, You need have no doubts about me.” ‘* ] know that well enough.” At that toment the signal to start was given, Air-Line Luke pulled the throttle and the train started upon its journey. No more was said until the train was out of the yard, and then the young engineer was the first to speak. ‘‘ Now,” be said, ‘‘ you can go ahead with your story, and no one can hear you but me.” ‘‘ Well,” said the detective, ‘‘ there is a little trouble in the First National Bank at West Plain, and they have engaged-me to sift the mat- ter. It isa case of forgery and counterfeiting. Sort of a double case in one, as near as I have been able to figure.” ‘‘ And what sort of success are you having with it?’ ‘‘ Well, I cannot flatter myself very much over my success so far. It seems hard to get a starting point. I think I am on the right track at last, however, and I hope to learn something to-night.” “Wish I could take a hand in the game with you,” observed Luke, ‘‘for J rather liked the excitement it afforded on that other occa- sion.” ‘Tl wish you could,” responded the detective, ‘“T should like to have you with me to-night. There are two men coming down from Marys- ville on the next passenger train, and 1 wante to get to West Plain ahead of them sv as to shadow them when they arrive,” “This will just help you out, then.” ‘‘Yes, nicely. I thought of you, and made up my mind that you would carry me down. It is lucky that I saw you the other day and learn- ed that you had an engine of yourown. I am gee to see you have won promotion, and now if here is anything that I can ever do for you in return for this favor, you have but to com- mand me,” . ‘“Thank you. I may sometime have occasion to accept your offer.” CHAPTER VII. VILLAINY AFOOT. LEAVING the two friends rushing along over the road toward West Plain, let us return to the matter that was uppermost in the mind of Stewart Lyman, the cashier of the First Na- tional Bank of that place, That matter was—his desire to win the hand of prety Lucy Fielding, week had passed since bis last call at the little cottage, and be had not attempted to see er, On this day, shortly after the bank had closed, he once more made his way to her home. When Lucy answered his ring at the bell she did not invite him to come in, but told him that her father was not at home, | ‘‘ Pardon me, if I invite myself in,” he said, as he crowded in; ‘‘I will wait until he comes, which cannot be Jong now, I presume. This was true, as Lucy was looking for her father’s coming at any minute, and his train was not often late getting in. ‘‘Very well,” said Lucy, as she closed the door, ‘‘ please step inte the parlor and sit down. I wi)! inform him that yeu are here the moment he comes,” As she s parlor, an room, but the man caug drew her back, ‘“* Stewart Lyman, let go of me instantly !” she commanded, her eyes snapping with fire, ‘** Do not get excited,” was the response, ‘I do not intend to harm you, but I want to talk with you for a moment,” ‘Sir! remove your hand!” the girl ordered, and this time in a tone so determined that the man obeyed, ‘* You coward!” was her cry, as she placed herself beyond his reach; “if my father were kere he would throw you out of doors,” ‘‘If he could do it,” retorted the casbier, hotly, letting his true nature be plainly ke she threw open the door of the would have gcse on to the sitting- t hold of her arm and seen, ‘‘ And in his absence,” added the brave girl, ‘‘ it is my duty to order you out. Go!” and she pointed to the door. ‘‘ Ha, ha, ha!” Lyman laughed, ‘‘ you are quite a queen of tragedy. You would make a charming hit on the stage.” ‘“Will you leave the house?” manded. ‘‘T will not,” was the retort. ‘‘I came here to see you, and I intend that you shall hear what I have tosay, If you attempt to retreat I will bring you back again as I did before.” __ If the cashier had been drinking his face did not show it, but his actions were certainly the actions of a drunken man or a villain. And nothing was clearer than that he was the latter. The girl made no response whatever, but stood still, Geers in every limb, and listen- ing eagerly for her father’s welcome step. ‘I am determined that you shall be my wife,” the cashier declared, ‘‘and I shall not stop at any means to attain that end. If you do not iow when you are standing iD your own light, and when you are refusing the chance of a lifetime, I will force you to understand it. By marrying me you will win le of ease and luxury, and marry me you shall!” ‘‘ Never!” the girl cried. ‘“‘I had rather die than become your wife. That would mean @ life of misery. Not only you are a villain, Stewart Lyman, but you are a fool as well. How I despise and detest you!” ‘You will understand me better some day,” returned the rascal, complacently, ‘‘ and then you will thank me for forcing you to marry me. You do not know your own mind, and. ean forgive youfor your rather harsh compli- ments.” ‘‘T know my own mind well enough to know that I shall never marry you,” was the retort; ‘and as for being forced to do so, you had bet- ter be sparing of your threats. You seem sud- denly to have lost your senses,” ‘More compliments, pretty one, but I can stand them, ben you are my wife, and have learned to me—” Fad At that moment Dan Fielding entered the house by a rear door, whistling merrily, as was his way. glad Lucy de- Witha Lucy turned quickly and ran out to him, and the instant Dan saw her fright- ened face and excited manner he knew that something was wrong, o What is the matter now, little girl!” he de- manded. ; ‘Matter enough!” exclaimed Lucy, 1n great excitement. ‘Stewart Lyman is in the hall there, and bas insulted an threatened me; and if you love me you will throw him out into the strect.” Dan Fielding’s blood fairly boiled in. an in- stant, and he strode forward, but at the same moment the cashier stepped into the room with an air of perfect ease and assurance, “Before you resort to such harsh measures, Mr. Fielding,” he said, “I hope you will hear what I have to say.” “T give you just one minute to say it,” thun- dered Dan. “Then [I will try and make the most of the limited time,” said the cashier, as a smile pa over his face. ‘In the first place, your daugh- ter has painted arather vivid picture in few words, and one that is not exactly true to the reality. She says that I have insulted her, be- cause I have asked her to marry me.” ‘And you laid hands upon me,” declared ucy, ‘‘and vowed that I should marry you.” ‘‘] admit that I did take hold of her arm,” owned the smooth-tongued rascal. ‘‘and it may in, ‘ . “h i <a ——— ee c . 4, paca ™* u Pik ar