Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 637 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

ie ee ——— ws es — - 4 pe See SO eas Se Fide of a certain house, and, several minutes after, Dick was “crawling across a sloping roof toward a small window, scarcely large enough when open to have admitted his body. The window consisted of but one sash, which slid up behind the weatherboarding, and when the boy spy had raised it—a feat which he ac- complished without difficulty or noise—he dropped into the house and stood ior a while in the darkness there. ‘He has come, and I thought you wouldn’t be very far behind,” said a voice at the boy’s el- bow, and at the same timea hand found his arm. ‘** So he is here, Mollie?” 7+ Yea,” ** In the room below?” ‘* Nowhere else.” ‘* T’m getting kind o’ tired of this,” whispered Dick. ‘* Here I’ve followed him, off and on, more than two months, and what have I discovered? He ain’t a burglar, nor a murderer, nor a forger.” ‘* No; but he’s a rogue, all the same,” ** Anybody who sees him in consultation with Mother Scammon knows that. He has a com- panion across the river.” ** The boy?” ‘“ Yes, The two are very thick, and my head for it, Mollie, there’s something bad afoot.” ‘The boy, whoever he is, never comes here.” ‘* Of course not.” **Ts he a good-looking boy?” **He is. I watched him on the Battery a long time the other day. He likes to finda shady place and there enjoy a cigar, Wat Waffles, as he calls himself sometimes and in some places, is playing the boy for something, But let me look at the pair in confab, This visit may not be as useless as the others have n.” The girl called Mollie, who was about sixteen and good-looking, led Dick o’ the Docks into a room as.dark as the hall that ran past the win- dow. Stooping over the floor, she found a movable block of wood, the removal of which gave the boy a view of the room beneath, In a moment Dick o’ the Docks had one eye at the opening. The ceiling of the room was not high, and the hole through which he looked was too small to be detected by a mere roving eye. Dick saw two persons seated at a table. One was Wat Waffles, the other a woman past fifty, with a dark face and restless eyes, piercing and eagle-like, The young spy watched the scene for some minutes before he saw a move of any kind or heard a voice, ‘‘Pm going to bring it to a close,” then sud- denly exclaimed Waffles, ‘*You are, eh? You've said that a good many times,” was the answer, accompanied by a derisive smile, ‘* You don’t give me time. You want every- thing to be done at once,” ‘“At once!” echoed the woman. ‘I think I've waited on you a longtime, You come here pretty often, and always with the same old story. Wd like to see some proof that you’re nearer the prize now than you were a month ago. ‘“Tve got it right here!” rejoined Waffles, triumphantly touching his breast, ‘“T don’t believe it.” The man opened his coat and drew fortha leather pocketbook, from which he took a piece of paper. Before he handed it to the anxious woman, he tore off two pieces, one at the top and the other at the bottom. it was evident from her look that Mother Scammon did not like this, but she said noth- ing. When he had mutilated the paper in the man- ner just mentioned, Wat pushed it across the table and sawit eagerly snatched up by his companion who occupied a position directly be- neath the hole at which Dick kept his sharp eye. Though be was some distance above the table, Dick discovered that the writing on the paper was in large characters and jet-black ink, and he read with Mother Scammon the letter re- ceived by Wat Waffles from Carlos Kingdon the broker. ‘What do you think?’ queried Wat, when the woman had finished reading the reply to the Herald ** personal” signed *‘ Business,” ‘One could twist that into a good many meanings,” was the response. ‘“‘As you have relieved the paper of the signature, how am I to tell what it is worth?” This adroit attempt to capture the name in Wat’s hand did not succeed. He held fast to it Dick Doan, the Dock Boy Detective. 3 and soon afterward trausferred the three slips back to the pocketbook, ‘When are you going to capture the prize? That’s what 1 want to know,” said Mother Scammon, ‘ ‘* Pretty soon, I told you.” ‘That may mean next year.” ** You are in a burry.” ‘‘Tam,. I have waited long enough.” “Well, all I have to say, you may have to wait a little longer.” A scowl came over the woman’s face—a flash of rage appeared in her eyes, She pushed her chair back and stcod up. ‘*T may not be at your mercy as much as you think,” cried she, looking madly across the table. ‘‘ You don’t put any confidence in me or you would not have mutilated the letter.” ‘** That’s a fact!” laughed Wat Waffles. ‘“ If you can’t trust me and have patience, you sha’n’t finger a dollar of the swag. There!” Mother Scammon’s face from dark seemed to turn white. Dick saw her control her ire and come back to the chair, ‘It is just as ve often told you, Mollie,” said he, rising and finding a hand in the dark- ness. ‘* Mother Scammon isin the grip of the scoundrel down there!” CHAPTER III. DICK STRIKES A TRAIL, AxBouT an hour after these events a boy, whose figure made a grotesque shadow on the wall of a dingy-looking room, as thrown there by a sickly-looking candle on a rickety table, was scanoing the advertising columns of a pen of current date. Jick o’ the Docks was no longer in the dark room in Jersey City, but he it was who was the sole occupant of the apartment just mentioned, with the newspaper on his lap. ‘Here it is!” exclaimed the boy aloud, and then he read the following ‘‘ personal,” in tones which, while intended for himself, could have been heard anywhere in the room: ‘*Lost Boy.—If the gentleman who lost a child fourteen years ago, will seek an interview with ‘Business,’ he may See up a bit of good news. Address ‘ Business,‘ this office.”’ Dick Doan seemed to reread the advertise- ment, though to himself, before he looked up |, from the paper or laid it aside. ‘“*T saw that the letter which Wat Waffles showed to Mother Scammon had been addressed to some one who hides behind the word ‘ Busi- ness,’and here is the personal which called it forth,” resumed Dick. ‘*‘ Now, what I want to know is, who lost a boy fourteen years ago? I don’t know anything about the circumstances myself, for then I was a gutter-snipe. Maybe I can pick up some information from Pappy Powder, hat he doesn’t know about crime’s doings isn’t worth finding out. Ill try him, at any rate,” he shadow of the docks blew out the can- dle and left the place. He was within a stone’s throw of the river, and not once during his journey to the spot he had decided to visit did he get beyond these bounds, After awhile, by descending a flight of dark steps, he was admitted into a for bidding-looking place, where he saw the unnaturally bright eyes of a little old man, whose skin was almost as black asa mummy’s, ‘*Come in, Shrimp!” exclaimed the door- keeper, while he held the door ajar long enough to let Dick slip inside. ‘* ve been wishing for some one to talk to, and you’re always com- pany, though you don’t come often, nor stay very long.” By this time the boy was in a room some dis- tance from the door, and Pappy Powder had handed him a chair, which threatened to fall to pieces the moment he should takeit, But Dick took the risk, and sat down, The room itself was a veritable picture-gal- lery. The walls were covered with a conglom- erated mass of illustrations, cut from the pic- torial papers of the day. The bands of the little man had arranged them with an eye to order. On one side were to be seen portraits of missing people, kidnap- ping scenes and the like, and in other places were fanciful sketches of other crimes, Dick had seen the pictures many times before, but on this occasion some of them seemed to possess new interest. ‘Say, Pappy Pewder,” began the boy, at the same time sending a swift glance toward the ‘‘ Lost People’s Gallery,” which look the sharp eyes of the old man detected. ‘‘What do you know about a child who disappeared about four- teen years ago?” The question was so unexpected that Pappy Powder gavé the youth a look of astonishment. ‘* That’s going back pretty far,” he replied. ‘Fourteen years ago, did you say?” ** About that time.” The old man picked up the lamp, and went toward the group of illustrations furtively ob- served by Dick, The young river scavenger left his chair and followed, ‘Fourteen years would take us back to 1870,” continued Pappy Powder, who received a nod of confirmation from Dick. ‘‘That was the very year that had the Custer Kingdon sensa- tion,” ‘* What was that?” eagerly asked Dick, ‘* What! Never heard of Broker Kingdon’s lost kid?” exclaimed Pappy Powder, ‘I thought you bad picked that up long ago. Here is the child now,” and a skeleton-lke finger was laid upon one of the portraits revealed by the lamp, ‘* Under the picture you see the ‘Ten Thousand Dollars Reward’ which tbe father offered—a sum which was never paid because the child was never found,” ‘* Give me the Jamp a moment, Pappy.” The light was yielded without a word, and the next instant Dick o’ the Docks was leaning forward, while be drank in, with bated breath and glowing eyes, the large reward for, and de- scription of Custer Kingdon, the child, who had never come back to his father. “Did they bunt high and low for the boy?” asked Dick, when he fell back to whe:e the old man stood, ‘* High and low is the proper term,” was the response, ‘* They oragges New York from Spuyten Duyvil to the Battery. The whole po- lice force kept its eyes open for more thana year, and Carlos Kingdon spent money like water, but all to no purpose, The little boy who, when last seen, was playing with some strange children—gutter-snipes, they say—a few yards from bome, was as completely lost as if he had been thrown into the bay with a cannon- ball tied to bis feet. That’s him there.” And Pappy Powder nodded toward the child-face on the wall, ‘The picture papers were full of the affair for a long time, but, like everything else, it had its day, and nobody thinks of Custer Kingdon now.” Dick o’ the Docks seemed to be intensely in- terested in the old man’s remarks. ‘* How old would Custer be if he were alive?” he asked. ‘* Pretty close to his eighteenth year,” replied Pappy Powder. ‘* But you don’t think he’s liv- ing—eh, Shrimp?” “ Shrimp” was a nickname which the tenant of the hovel bad bestowed upon Dick on account of his life among the docks. ‘* Nobody is dead to me until I know it,” an- swered the boy.” “That is what Carlos po used to say, though of Jate years I guess he’s given up the idea,” Dick drew from his bosom the newspaper which be had consulted by the light of bis can- dle. ‘‘ What does that mean?’ he went on, point- ing to the advertisement signed ‘ Business,” then watched Pappy Powder’s face while he read. ‘* Another bleeder trying to sink his lancet into Garlos Kingdon’s purse,” was the prompt response. ‘'They did it a great deal at first, and the broker responded liberally, but cf late rs Ihave not heard of any of their work, ut I see that the leeches ain’t all dead.” The boy could not repress a smile. ** Don’t you think ‘ Business’ knows anything about the lost boy?’ queried Dick. ‘* No more than you or I, Shrimp,” laughed Pappy Powder, ‘Run ‘Business’ down, and you will find a rogue of the first water, His game is too old,” ‘‘Not if Carlos Kingdon has not given up all hopes of seeing bis son alive.” ‘*T think he has. Besides, a ‘** personal” isn’t going to draw him into the net ofa bleeder. Of course,” added Pappy Powder ‘‘ be would be willing to give every dollar of his fortune, and it is immense, for the missing boy, but my word for it, that ‘‘ Business” won't catch him with the sort of chaff he has thrown before him.” ‘* There is tobe an interview.” } The eyes of the little old man seemed todi- late suddenly with excitement, ‘*‘ How do you know?” he exclaimed grasping the boy’s arm, ‘Never mind. I tell you, Pappy Powder, that Carlos Kingdon has answered that notice.” “The more fool he!” cried the old fellow, — ‘*Tf fourteen years of silence have not taught bim discretion let the leech suck him dry !” He : a«+ ae A and ag a2) Je _— om