Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 89 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

=- “™~ S - Beadle’s Half-Dime Librar eee = —i—eCe SSeS ee ee ee he died, and I have made a confounded ass of myself; that’s all there is into it.” As Chauncey and Tommy Bennet walked home, the former said: ‘*He’s got a good deal on his mind, that fel- ‘ow. One may say he was the death of his mother and father, if all I hear is true.” “Yes,” replied Tommy; ‘this mother died when he and I ran away, and I was told he had some trouble with his father about taking money that didn’t belong to him.” ‘* He’s rather bad for me,” continued Chaun- cey, ‘‘and I think Vl have to cut him. It wasn’t the right thing to play cards just after his father’s funeral.” ‘‘T guess not. I wouldn’t have done it,” an- swered Tommy. ‘‘ He’sa bad lot!” From these remarks it will be seen that Jim was already losing caste among his friends and associates. The clock struck nine and Jim remembered the promise he had made to Fanny, and re- solved to start at once to bring her home. Very lonely and ghostly seemed the house now. He missed the kind-hearted old gentle- man upon whom he had imposed himself asa son. ‘‘1’m a worthless fellow, anyhow,” he said to himself, ‘‘and I sometimes wish I was on the tramp again; but l’ll have to go through with the fraud, I suppose, now that I have gone so far. He heaved a deep sigh and his heart was like a lump of lead in his breast. It was only a short walk to Mr. Mandragon’s, and when he rung the bell he heard the piano discoursing the pleasant music which Mercedita knew so well how to compel from it, He was ushered in, this time, without a word, and entered the parlor, where he saw Mr. and Mrs. Mandragon, Fanny, Mercedita at the iano, with a tall, handsome, middle-aged gen- leman of a Spanish aspect, turning over the leaves of her music for her. The music ceased as he entered and Mercedita said, kindly: “Good-evening, Mr. Dimity! Allow me to introduce you to the Marquis Manuel de Garcia, an old and dear acquaintance of mine in Cuba.” Jim was completely dumbfounded at this in- troduction and had scarcely nerve enough to bow and mutter a few words of recognition. But he recovered himself in a very brief space and instantly a feeling of antagonism sprung up between him and the marquis. He felt instinctively that the man had assas- sinated his friend, Kenas Belshazzar, or why had not the Gipsy returned to the hotel? The hand of the marquis—that be-ringed and delicately-gloved hand, so small and well-bred, was red with the blood of his own wife and that of her betrayer! ‘*T have heard a great deal of Spanish mar- quises,” he said, almost rudely. The marquis colored up to the eyes under his swarthy skin, ‘* Sir,” he exclaimed, ‘‘ what am I to under- stand by that remerk?”’ ‘* Anything you like!” answered Jim. ‘*T amin a friend’s house or I would talk to you very differently, for I assure you that Iam notin the habit of being bearded by an inso- lent boy.” ‘* An insolent boy is no worse than a Spanish assassin,” retorted Jim. At this speech the marquis became livid; Mercedita clasped her hands and Mr, Man- ety rose angrily to his feet. ‘*Leave this house, sir!” said he, Jim with his hat which he had place resenting on a side ' table. **Oh! shoot the hat!” replied Jim. ‘‘There is your coatalso.” ' ‘¢ Stab the coat!” answered Jim, who had all the time been under the restraint of civilization, but who now began to feel some of his former rowdyism returning. ‘‘ My business is with this gentleman, and when I have given him an ex- planation | am perfectly willing to leave.” ‘‘T don’t wish any scene in my house,” ex- claimed Mr. Mandragon. ** You shall have none, as far as I am concern- ed, but Iam not going to be called an insolent boy, without hitting back. Please let me talk to this gentleman.” ‘‘Tam willing,” returned the marquis, who was still deadly pale. ‘‘ Come into a corner of the room,” said Jim. The marquis followed him passively. ‘* Now, sir,” exclaimed the latter. ‘*Were you ever in Virginia City, Nevada?” asked Jim, in alow tone, so as not to be heard by the others in the room. “Yes!” was the sibilant reply. ‘‘Did your wite leave you there?” ‘* She did.” The deathly pallor of the marquis increased, and he bit his nether lip severely. ‘** Did you follow her to Los Angeles, in Lower | California, and there shoot her like a dog?’ ‘“‘Santa Maria!” cried the Spaniard; ‘‘ who are you?” ‘* Never mind that! Tell me what you have done with Henus Belshazzar !” The marquis leant against a chair for support and his face quivered, but he made no answer. “* Marquis Manuel de Garcia,” said Jim, “I know you. Beware how you insult me again.” The marquis extended his hand. ‘* Let it be peace between us,” he exclaimed. ‘* How you gained your information | know not, but twill be your friend rather than your en- emy. us I scorn your friendship!” replied Jim. ‘* Keep away from this house. That is all I ask of you.” Why?” ‘You want Mercedita; so do I; and, recol- lect one thing—I will firht for her!” A. cold, sardonic smile stole over the face of the marquis. ‘* We shall see!” he remarked. ‘ But, come; this scene has lasted long enough. I will make all things right,” and he cast one look of deadly hatred upon Jim. “Stop!” said Jim; “you have not answered my uestion!” ‘What was that?” “ Where is Belshazzar ?’ ‘*He’s where he will never trouble any one again,” answered the marquis, in a stony voice. ‘“Wretch! You have killed him!” “T exercise my right, when I fulfill my oath.” As he said this, the marquis walked into the middle of the room, where Mr. Mandragon was pe cae pry awaiting the result of the confabu- ation. In the most polished manner, bowing and smiling to the ladies, he said: ‘‘ My young friend and I have settled our little dispute in an ami- cable manner. I am entirely satisfied. Signora Mercedita, will it be asking too much, and tres- passing too largely on your kind condescension to ask you to favor me once more with some of your charming music?” Mercedita sat down at the piano, but this time it was Jim who turned over the music, the mar- quis sitting on the sofa, conversing with Mr. dragon. CHAPTER VIII. HAUNTED, THE evening passed without any further in- terruption, and Jim made himself agreeable, both by his manner and conversation. Then Fanny intimated a wish to go home, and they took their leave. At the door of their own home, he left her. ‘*Do not go out again to-night, dear!” ghe urged. ‘1 must. The fact is I can’t be stuck in the house all the time like a girl,” answered Jim. ‘*It is late, and all respectable people are home,” Fanny continued. ‘‘ What can you do at this hour?’ ‘*Gamble!” replied Jim. With a sigh she closed the door and Jim walk- ed down the street. He had not gone far before he met the Marquis Manuel de Garcia, face to face. “This is a lucky meeting!” exclaimed Jim, “Tecan now force you to tell me what you re- fused to communicate at Mr. Mandragon’s.” The marquis drew himself up proudly, and all the blue blood of Spain which flowed in his veins rushed to his face. ** Madre de dios! young man,” he said. ‘‘ You try my patience.” ‘Pshaw! I ask you—what has become of Belshazzar?” ‘* And I emphatically refuse to tell you!” Jim had not forgotten his old habit of carry- ing a knife, which he did in the California fa- shion, down the back of his neck. With the rapidity of lightning he drew it, and seizing the Spaniard by the throat, before he could divine his purpose, he cried—‘‘ Speak!” ‘‘ Miserable coward!” hissed the marquis. “Speak!” reiterated Jim, ‘‘or youdie. Is he alive?” St to an extremity of terror the marquis oke: ‘‘He is!” he muttered! adding—‘‘take your hand from my throat; you are strangling me! ‘Good for you—where is the Gipsy?” Garcia was about to reply when a_ policeman who had come up silently, seized Jim by the arm, and forced him to release his victim. -—< -—_——- ee ee ee - --— —_ --- — - —_ - — ‘“You are my prisoner!” he exclaimed, dash- ing the knife to the ground. Jim did not attempt to make any resistance, and the marquis being free, hastened off in the darkness. It was a deep mortification to Jim to be ar- rested at the very moment when some light was going to be thrown upon the fate of Belshaz- zar. He still lived; the marquis had admitted that, pec in that admission there was a gleam of ope. ‘‘ What are you going to do with me?” asked Jim, uneasily. They had walked under a gas-lamp, and the Oliceman, without answering, pane up his at, so as to let the light play on his face. Jim looked up, expecting an answer, and he saw the face which wns bending down to his, Inithesaw Mr. Dimity’s features! sadly stern, pale, but yet so lifelike! ‘* Father!” he cried. Still the softly expressive eye looked into his, and a mortal terror came over him. Sinking on his knees, he covered his face with oe hands to shut out what he took to be a spec- Shortly afterward, so great was his horror at this apparition that his senses left him. When he came to himself he was lying on his own stoop, cold and numb. Shudderingly he entered the house with the night-key and went to his bedroom. n the morning he was feverish and ill; his appetite had left fin, and he was obliged to send for a doctor. The medical man he called in was one of the most famous in New York city, and a man of sound ideas, combined with great skill and plain common sense. Jim was pee and haggard; he smoked a cigarette and sipped some weak whisky and seltzer. ‘‘Well, young gentleman, what can I do for you?” inquired the doctor. hae Do you believe in ghosts, doctor?’ Jim ask- ed. ‘* Under no circumstances!” ‘* Well, J am haunted,” replied Jim, and he prpccanes to tell him, first of Mr. Dimity’s threat fore he died, and the two apparitions which had subsequently alarmed him. ‘*Throw that cigarette away,and allow me to empty this glass into the grate—so!” exclaim- ed the doctor, suiting the action to the word. ‘‘We must have no stimulants; the nervous system is out of order. This is, in my opinion, a case of imagination. Al I can dois to advise change of air and scene.” ‘Ts there no cure for it?’ ‘*)} do not say that. <A celebrated lawyer came to me, some years ago, and complained that in court and out of court he could not hel continually turning his head, because he fancie there was a raven perched on his left shoulder. [ forbade all mr advised cessation from work and travel. Now the hallucination has vanished.” Jim handed the doctor his fee and lapsed into the deepest melancholy, from which the inno- cent prattle of Fanny could not arouse him. He was convinced that he was haunted and the terror of the thing froze his very soul. CHAPTER IX. “SAM SADRAKE.” Wate Island Jim was in this state of melan- choly, bordering on despair, a servant entered with a card. | Looking at it Jim read: ‘“<Sam Sadrake, Newark avenue.’ he?” inquired Jim. “Don’t you remember Mr. Sadrake, sir?’ re- plied the servant; ‘“‘you and he were quite thick before he went to the city to study medi- eine. ‘“Oh, yes! My old friend Sam Sadrake! Of course, show him in! I’m a little confused to- day,” answered Jim. resently a fine-looking young fellow, about eighteen, dressed in the hight of fashion, enter- i ed the room. ‘Why, Dick, old man!” he exclaimed. ‘‘It seems an age since you and I robbed an orchard or a hen-roost together. How you vas, Schneider?” ‘‘ Glad to see you, Sam!” replied Jim, with the nerve of a veteran actor. ‘I’m feeling bad to- day. Heard of my loss, I suppose?” ‘Yes; allow me to ccngratulate you—I mean, accept condolences and all that sort of thing roper on the doleful occasion,” said Sam adrake, ‘Thanks. What are you doing now?’ Who is : ty | ; ae a ——— = ==Comicbooks.com _—