Beadle's Half Dime Library No. 935 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

4 A The do. In the mean time I will make every effort to compose myself so as to be able ito answer your questions more rationally. If you have nothing more to ask, pray leave me at once. I must be alone.” ¢ “Very well, madam, I respect your wishes. Come, Robert,” and the detective bowed and left the room, Business Bob following him. CHAPTER IyV. ANOTHER CASE APPEARS. Business Bob, as soon as they were outside, could keep still no longer. “Great Gowanus!” he exclaimed, citedly; ‘‘what kind of a case is it, boss, anyhow?” “That is just what I am trying to figure out, Bob,” was the answer. “It is about the most curious case that ever came under my notice. I hardly know what to think about it: ‘Don’t you think the woman is trying to work a racket on the insurance com- pany?” ss No.” “Then I am all at sea, sure enough. That was the only thing I could get hold of, and I thought maybe it was that. There is a nice sum of money to be had.” “Can't help it, Bob; that is not the se- cret this time. I studied her well while I was talking with her, and’ am sure she was not aeting. We'll go to the office, and there I will smoke a cigar while 1 think hard upon the matter, and J’ll be able to fix upon a theory.” So to the office they went. The detective’s office was in a fine build- ing on a busy street. When they entered and mounted the main staircase of the building they heard 4 musical voice singing: “Go inside an’ take yo’ seat; But yo’ mus'’n’ cross yo’ feet; Sot right down an’ hold yo’ breff; You be tickled ‘mos to deff!’’ “That's Glossy!” cried Bob. ‘* What can he be doing here, I wonder? There must be a thousand verses to that song he sings; I have never heard the end of it yet. There he goes again!’ “ When d'e car come to a curb, Tighten up yo’ eb’ry nerb; Grit yo’ teeth an’ hol’ hard fast, Till d’at curb am safely pass’d?’’ “Hello, Glossy! What are you doing here?” cried Bob, as he and the detec- tive came to the door of the latter’s room, where the darky was waiting. ‘ Waitin’ fo’ yous,” was the response. ‘What do you want?” “T wan’ yo’, boss, d’ar’ and in mightiest hurry eber was, too.” “You want me?’ asked Phillips. és Yes.’’ ‘What for, my piece of polished char- coal?” “Vou are wanted to come ‘to d’e — Hotel, sah, jes’ as soon as yo’ can git Gar “How long have you been here?” “Not more’n a minute, sah.” “T thought you hadn’t been here long, Glossy,” observed Bob Buckle. “ What made you fink d’at? How could yo’ tell whether I had been here long or short or otherwise?” “ Becatise we would have found you dead if you had been here very long.” “How yo’ make d’at out?” “Some one would have killed you for singing that endless song of yours.” “You min’ yo° own business, Business Bob, d’at am what yo’ kin do,” scolded the darky. ‘“ D’at song am my own pus- s’n’l property, an’ nobody else kin sing it; ’eause why, d’ey don’t know it all.” ‘‘Never mind the song,” interrupted the detective; “what is it that is wanted of me at the hotel, Pete?” Spe @X- de waiting ee OB et @s Pa . at - 4 : : “at = re PM es & ee iy : : s te tie, Bf bes, oS be i; 7.23 “Somefin’ wrong in one ob d’e rooms, sah.” * What is it?’ “Don’t know; guess d’ey fink de feller in room No. 21 am takin’ his eberlastin’ sleep.” “Then why didn’t they tell the police? What do they want to bother me for? I guess there must be something more to it than you know, Glossy. Bob, I'll have to go and see what is wanted.” “Can't I go, too?” asked Bob. Wha te@or 7” “Well, that is the hotel where the woman said Robert Wellstone is stop- ping, you know, and—” “ By Jupiter! soitis. Yes, come along, if you wish to, for it is possible that I may want you on hand.” The detective did not open the door of his office, but turned and descended the stairs, the boys following him. ‘“ Are you going with us, Glossy?” asked Bob. “'*Deed I's not. I picks my company, I does. My singin’ might diskumfuddle yo’ finer thinkin’.” “Ha. ha! Well, it might, that is the fact, Glossy. Take care of yourself, my lily-white pard, and I'll ‘see you later, if nothing breaks. Ta, ta!” So they parted, on reaching the side- walk, Bob and the detective going in one direction and the darky in the opposite, and in a moment the darky broke out into song again, like this: “May run ober boy or man, Keep from faintin’ if yo’ can; Woman, child, or dog, or cat, You will soon git use’ to d’at!’’ The detective and his assistant laughed, and hurried on their way to the hotel. Arriving there, Phillips went at once to the clerk, whom he knew. * What is wrong, Jones?” he asked. “That is what we want you to find out, Joe,” * Why didn’t you ¢all in a policeman?” ** Meant to, if you hadn’t got here soon. Knowing you, you were the first one I thought of.” * Well, what is it?’ “ There fS something wrong in room No. ys Ege ‘*So the darky said. pant of that room?” “A young man named Wellstone—” “Robert Wellstone?” “ Yes; know him?” “T have heard of him.”’ “A fine young fellow. A man came to gee him, said he had ealled first at his place of business in New York, but found he wasn’t there. This is the gentleman. Mr. Ambler, Mr. Phillips.” A young man approached, and the clerk introduced him. The detective gave his hand, while his eyes met those of the young man in a momentarily steady gaze. Ambler was twenty-eight or thirty years of age, good looking and well dressed. He was dark complexioned, and wore a black mustache. He was spare, and ap- parently of nervous temperament. “Yes, I am sure something must be wrong with Bob,” he said: “They said at the office that he had sent no word, and that was taken as evidence that he must be sick or that something had happened to prevent his coming to the office. I had an appointment with him for this morn- img.” * At his office?” ee Yes.”’ “Have you tried to unlock the door?” turning to the clerk. “Yes, but the key is in the lock on the insidé. That.makes it seem plain that Wellstone is inside.” ; Who is the occu- wsboy Detective’s Chuy, “I wil go. up immediately, If that is: the case, there certainly must be some- thing wrong, Sure énough. Will you come along with me?’ to the young man to whom he had just been introduced. “ Assuredly, sir,’”’ was the response. The clerk called fome one to take his place, and led the way up to the room in question. Coming to door No. 21, they stopped, and the detective produced a_ peculiar looking tool having a handle like a large key, and inserted it into the lock, while the others watched eagerly. Bob Buckle stood on his right, eager to get a sight of the room as soon as the door opened, the others on the left and a little further back, and it was a moment of almost breathless suspense, while the detective turned the little instrument in the lock. ‘Presently there was a ‘click, and the door swung open, when a horrible sight met their expectant gaze—a sight more horrible than had been anticipated. On the floor lay the body of Robert Well- stone, with a cord around his neck, a cord that was wound around each hand sey- eral times, indicating at a glance that he had taken his own life in the most fright- ful manner imaginable. ' CHAPTER. V. MURDER OR SUICIDE? Ambler was the first to speak. “Great Heavens!” he eried. taken his life!” “And in a way unheard of!” exclaimed the clerk. “I'd never ’a’ thought he’d do a thing like that.” The detective had said nothing, but had advanced into the room and was looking carefully around, and had picked up a folded sheet of paper from the floor, which he read. “He has ‘ What have you there?” asked Ambler. » “A note which the poor fellow evidently received last night,”’ was the answer. “Ts it anything that can throw light upon his reason for taking his life in this horrible manner, Mr. Phillips?” “T hardly know. This is what it says:” “Mr, Wellstone—This brings you the saddest news, which will be almost as much a blow to you as it was tome. My heart is broken, and I have nothing to live for. My child—our Luella—is dead. ‘“*¢ANN ACHTERSON.’ ” Even before the detective had finished reading George Ambler had clapped a hand to his forehead and staggered back, and now he cried: “Tuella Achterson dead? My God! can it be possible?” “You knew her, then “Yes, yes.” “But you had not heard of her death, 99? > it is evident.” “No, no, I had not heard. Poor Bobt Tt was this sad news that made him do this desperate deed.” *Tt would seem so,” remarked the detee- tive. “These words in pencil at the bot- tom of the letter seem to be proof of it: ‘Nor have I anything to live for,’ signed ‘KR. Ww.’ t* . “Those words are there?” “ Certainly.” Ambler stepped up to the detective and looked, immediately adding: “ And itis poor Bob's writing. Poor fel- low. it was a sad blow for him, but this is almost as sad for me.” “He was your friend, then?” “Yes: or had been.” “Then he was not friendly to you now?” “ Well, it was nothing; a little misunder- standing. My appointment with him for and make up:”* . this morning was to talk the matter over — i, ¢ 200K ee