Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 717 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

S ’ 2 Mosquito Jack, the Hustler Gamin. | | | Randolph Fenton’s face changed color as he | returned to the parlor, sunk into a chair and gazed at his indignant father, had been long and stormy, but, indignant as the colonel was, his son had not looked for an ulti- | matum as radical as this. It alarmed him; it disheartened him, ‘* But, father,’ he remonstrated, ‘if you carry out your threat you will punish an inno- cent person.” ‘Prove it!” ‘* How can I?” ‘“* The question is timely!” Colonel Fenton re- torted, with sarcasm, Randolph’s figure became more erect, and his eyes flashed with spirit, ‘** You mean that innocence cannot be estab- lished where guilt exists, but your decision to condemn me cannot change the facts, I rest upon the assertion that—I am innocent!” The father’s face softened for a moment. ** Then, how has the damage been done? How have secrets gone outside our office which were known only to you and me?” ‘I have told you, sir, that I don’t know, More than that, I have racked my brain to get even a theory, and failed.” ‘* It may not be the only failure. I have lost a hundred thousand dollars in the last six months, simply because some one has constantly under- mined me. If I bad a purchase arranged, some one bought abead of me; if I contemplated a sale, knowing it policy to sell, all efforts to save my- lf from loss were frustrated by some one who had heard of my secrets. In brief, my business has gone to the dogs, and some one else has made the profits I ought to have made,” ‘* And now yoususpect me! Does not my. suc- cess depend upon yours?” “It may, or may not, If you have reaped the fruit of treachery you have madé more in six months than you could have made in years, by acting honorably.” ** Still suspicious!” ‘‘Suspicious? No! Iam convinced! Before I spoke a word to youl had positively decided that you were guilty—” ‘* You admit, then, that you condemned me unheard?” ‘‘Unheard? You insult me, boy!” the colonel cried. ‘‘ 1 tried to prove your innocence, myself, at first. I bired the keenest, most honorable of detectives to ferret out the mystery. They dis- covered that certain men had injured me finan- cially, by getting abead of me iu unknown ways, and that you kept the company of these men. Even then I would not believe; I told them I would see for myself; I did see. I saw you with theymen who had engineered the deals against me —the open agents of my secret foes.” ‘‘ What of it? Are the aforesaid agents not ae of upright character and highly respect- ) ‘*They have been—” ** Are they not now?” ‘‘T can bring no charge against them.” ‘* Yet you condemn me for being in their com- pany! And I was there only because they were ee men, There was no significance in my call. ‘* There is significance in the way that secrets known only to me and you have gone out of our office, and enabled the before-mentioned agents to make a pile of money for some one at my ‘ex- pense!” | ~ Randolph stood silent, too proud to say more. His father regarded him curiously, but with un- abated sternness, ‘* You say you cannot prove your innocence?” **T said so,” ** You are guilty!” ‘* Have it as you will, sir!” ‘*T trust you are ready to leave my house?” ‘*] am, sir!” - Randolph left the parlor with a proud and indignant air. His hand was on the knob of the street door when his father, who had fol- | lowed, interposed: “ You forget your trunk and personal prop- Randolph turned quickly. * T forget nothing, sir!” ~ ‘*'You had better do your own packing. ‘*T have no packing to do; no trunk to carry, You say [ am no longer your son, and have ordered me from your house, I go, Mr. Fenton,, but not with the belp of your expressman, take no trunk, no personal property; nothing save the clothes I have upon my back, and an unblemished character. If Iam to be a beggar, _I will not be abore my class!” The interviow | buried his face in his hands, ‘‘ Heaven help me!” he murmured; “ [ have torn my heart-strings asunder!’ Then, after a pause, be added in a husky voice: ‘*‘ And Heav- | en help the boy I have loved so well!” Meanwhile, Randolph was still walking. He walked a long while, heedlesas of the direction he took, and conscious only of the indignation surging in his mind, . He was twenty-four years old, and had been, until the last hour, a youth who hoped to achieve much among his fellow- men by earnest devotion to business, Now, all was changed; be was an outcast; he had been sent adrift with a father’s condemnation upon him, and be smarted under the mental Jash, Tne gathering shades of nigbt finally aroused him from abstraction, and brought him back to the realities of life, but when he looked around be failed to recognize bis whereabouts, He wason a street, narrow, unprepossessing and grim, Ancient old houses,low and time- stained, stared upon him, and numerous dirty children played in the clirty street, Truly, he was in a quarter very different from that where stood his father’s aristocratic dwell- ing. The puzzled look was still on his face when a small sharply-pitched voice sounded near bim: ‘* Lost anything, mister?” Randolph turned and saw a ragged boy of about fourteen years. ‘* Notbing but myself,” he answered, ‘* Ts it wu’th payin’ a reward fur?” ‘* No!” young Fenton answered, with emphasis. ‘*‘ Rewards are never paid for tramps.” ‘* Not unless they’re wanted in prison.” Randolph was turning to leave the young questioner, but the last remark checked his de- parture. He looked more attentively at his companion. The latter was evidently indigenous to the quarter where Randolph found him, and, like the dim old houses, subject to the sovereign rvle of King Poverty. The boy wore the king’s livery —the garments on his person, originally of the cheapest kind, were old and shabby. Divers smears of dirt across his face were not neces- sarily of the King Poverty livery, but the boy had them, Rags nor dirt, however, had been able to crush a naturally buoyant disposition; it gleamed in his bright, shrewd face, and twinkled in his big, steady eyes. ‘Who are you?” Fenton asked, ** Mosquito Jack!” ‘* What?” ‘* Mosquito Jack, the Hustler Gamin, ‘* You’ve adopted an odd name,” ‘‘Didn’t ’dopt it. Name was given me at bap- tism, You see, my parients couldn’t ’gree on my classic appelatation, My dad, he wanted ter call me George Washin’ton Adams Jefferson Jackson—an’ some more on ’em, which I disre- member; while my marm was dead seton heyin’ me called Clarence Percy Claude Jasper Oscar Fitz-noodie—pooty fair kind o’ given names, only a leetle elongated in parts; an’ my gran’- marm said it must be Hezekiah Elipbalet Zach- ariab; an’ they wuz hbevin’ it bot w’en a mus- keeter lit on my nose an’ bit me so I yelled like izen, That settled it, an’ I was christened osquito Jack right off, smack!” . The hoy made this remarkable statement with great gravity of countenance, but the re hra eg in his bright eyes showed he enjoyed his joke, ‘Such a peculiar occurrence is equaled only by your veracity asachronicler, Do you live near here?” ‘‘ Right there! Want ter hire a room?” Randolph had been talking because he had nothing else to do, but the practical question turned his thoughts into the same channel. He was homeless and must ate somewhere. If he had been left to himself he would, of course, have gone to a hotel, but the inquiry came at a moment when he was open to impressions, He looked more critically at the dingy old house. Why should he not turn to a shelter of the kind atonce? Those who lived there were poor; so was he. Some had no money, prob- ably; he had but little, Perhaps they had em- ployment; he had none, Why not sink to bis new level, at once? ‘* Who keeps the house?” } ‘*My a’nt, Mrs, Sariahb Brown,” ** Is it an honest place?” ‘* None honester.’ ‘¢T’ll go in and see your aunt.” ‘* Poller on!” heels, again looked surprised, . In pointof fact he had not expected the stylish-looking young man to follow him; he had regarded the latter’s words as no more than a joke; and wher he noticed Randolph’s decided air, he’ gave evi- dences of disapproval which the young man would have noticed under some circumstances, At the threshold the guide actually stopped, but Randolph spoke curtly: ‘**Go on!” Mosquito Jack went. He led the way toa seedy parlor, and then summoned Mrs, Sarab Brown. She proved to be a thin woman, much given to sighing, but seemed too weak of nature to be vicious, That she had an eye to business was shown by the manner in which, despite several wandering glances at the appli- cant’s clothing, she let him a room. It was high in the house, and the plainest of rooms; it was scantily furnished and equipped with a*ragged carpet; but the price was mod- rer poe he engaged it with all the philosophy possible, Mrs. Brown left him, but he detained Mosqui- to Jack, and conversed with that eccentric per- son until they were quite well acquainted, Jack finally pleaded work to attend to, aad Randolph was alone, Later, he noticed that there was no key in the door of bis room, and as such a thing seemed very essential, he de- scended to interview Mrs, Brown. On reaching the hall he heard her voice in the parlor and entered. She and another woman were its only occupants, ‘‘Mrs. Brown,” he began, ‘‘I fail to find—” The second woman, toward whom he bad hardly glanced, sprung to her feet with a cry and, a momepdt later, her arms were clasped around Randolph’s neck. CHAPTER II, SOMEBODY'S MISTAKE, ‘‘BrertrRaM! Oh! thank Providence I again see you!” were the words which rung in Randolph’s startled ears, He struggled stoutly to cast off the encircling arms butin vain. The woman clung to him and murmured words of joy and tenderness, rea] or feiyned, while he writhed about in alarm. He had the suspicion which those of the higher classes often feel for the habitations of the lowly born, and had wondered before leaving his room whether it would prove that he was ina den of thieves. Now, the tenacious hold of the woman’s arms led him to fear attack from some more dangerous foe, and he broke away as soon as possible, ‘*What in the world do you mean?” he cried, with mixed indignation and suspicion, ‘‘Should say she meant ter rumple yer shirt- collar, by Ebenezer!” quoth Mosquito Jack, who had just entered the room, ‘‘Bertram, is it thus you receive me?” de- manded the strange woman, sadly. + ‘‘Should remark that the thusness o’ the re- ception was on t’other foot!” commented Jack, ‘¢ My name is not Bertram,” sharply answered Randolph. ‘*T have long doubted that, myself.” ‘Your doubts are well founded,” “ Atleast, I hope I have no cause to doubt you !” ‘‘ What am I to you, anyhow?” ‘* My busband!” “ Your husband?” ‘¢ Cricketty-jim !” The last unique expression was from irre- pressible Jack, but Randolph looked only at the woman. He saw she was young and far from ill-looking, but bis opinion of her was decidedly below par. “So you are a blackmailer!” he exclaimed. ‘* Bertram! how can you?” . | With this reply, and it was really pathetic, the young woman burst into tears, were feigned, the acting was well done. ‘You wrong Mrs, Dalton, sir,” interposed the — landlady, with dignity. ‘I don’t understand this scene, but if you think ber capable of in- | juring you, or any one else, you are mistaken,” **At any rate, I am not her husband—I believe that is what she said.” — The young woman’s head was lifted. “Do you deny that we were married?” ‘**T do, empbatically; I never saw you before,” ““T suppose you never even heard of Lena © Curtis?” ‘*T never did.” ‘“‘ My worst fears are realized!” If they ertram, nor am I For a moment Mosqnito Jack had looked sur-| ‘‘ Your fears I know notbing about, buf LT = | | prised, but the expression soon disappeared. He | don’t stand between you and them, Ifyouare Re ae, Se crossed the street. Reaching the curbstone, be | acting a part, I assure you it will avail you My looked around, and, seeing Randolph at his | nothing; if you are laboring under a genuine — | Once more turning the young man went quick- ly out of the house, and down the street. Once, Colonel Fenton made a motion to call him back, - but checked the paternal impulse. Instead, he . nay, ‘~ are Wanye, ‘ =_— 0 VGA RNa ye 4 é ‘ \ > - > m. : ' 4 3 ; / ; ? 4i.¢ ‘ : ‘ Bad . ® y. A ' . : . y _* if ~~ €O Prout aad, ’ , , ~~». ore bate eg ry > Hoe. :