Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 963 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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eae 228s = a - . iz 10 not stand this, but ran down the steps and assisted the man to his feet. But he sank back, again, groaning as if in pain. “If 1 could resh a_ bit—then—p’raps— could get on,” he gasped. ** Poor old fellow!’ she exclaimed. ‘It is a shamé the way those roughs acted.” She was helping him up the steps and into the house. ‘Are you, indeed, very sick?’ * Shick—resh a bit,” he murmured, as she assisted him to a lounge by the wall, where he appeared to fall into a slumber. The woman, after a little nervous hesi- tation, went to her work on a sewing ma- chine in the next room. She sewed busily for some time, then put on her hat and jacket, took up a bundle of garments that were already finished, and went into the other room. She glanced out at the win- dow, yet failed to see a man on the oppo- site side of the street who was looking at the house as he passed. The old rag man was still asleep. ‘Wake up,” said she, shaking him roundly. ‘“‘ You ought to be rested, now, and I have to go out. Those rowdies are gone. Wake up!” CHAPTER XIII, THE GENTEEL DODGER'S DODGB. But no amount of ordinary shaking would waken the old man. His long white hair and beard and deeply wrinkled face still appealed to her pity. “TI just believe I will let him lie,” she concluded. “He is yet too exhausted to get up before I return. Then I will give him something to eat and let him go. Some might say I am too soft-hearted, but I guess that ain’t so.” s She went out as she spoke. The door had hardly closed, however, before the old man sprang up With surprising agility, and began peering into each room in an alert, though noiseless fashion. “This must be the room,” he muttered, as he entered an apartment in the second story by means of a skeleton key. “I must be in a hurry.” The house was a small one and sparsely furnished. The room he was now in looked as if it had not been occupied for several days. There were a bed, two or three chairs, a trunk, a small table with a couple of sporting papers thereon, and an- other object, on which this singular rag man pounced with avidity. “This is luck,’”’ he muttered, as his eye swept the mantelpiece, on which were scattered a few articles of cheap bric-a- brace. ‘“* Now for the trunk. I must take a look in there.”’ Once more a bunch of skeleton keys were sorted over and used. In another minute he was rummaging through the trunk, tumbling the contents over, which were principally sundry disguises in wearing ap- parel, together with a few toilet articles and some soiled underclothing. “Hang it all!” ejaculated the searcher. “Tt ought certainly to be here. Ha! What ean this be?’ He opened a slide in the lid of the trunk and drew forth a folded paper. Then he compared the handwriting in it with that of a letter in his own possession. “ Tust as I thought!” he exclaimed; then he breathed a sigh of relief. ‘“ Now, I guess I am all right. But time is precious. I must hustle.” After that he rapidly stripped off his gray hair, beard, outer clothing, and his ar- tificial hump. ‘Then he took a hasty wash at a stand in one corner. Diving into his bag’ he drew out a suit of genteel clothing, including a derby hat, and reclothed him- self from head to foot with phenomenal rapidity. The discarded costume he stuffed into his bag, threw this into the trunk and re- locked the same, chuckling quietly as he a — The East Side Spotter did so. Then he pocketed the paper and other objects he had selected, took a look at himself in a mirror on the wall, and finally locked the room door as he went out, | He had gone up-stairs a ragged, disrep- utable, deformed old man; he came down a slim, straight, well-dressed young fel- low, with a fresh face, that was as smooth as a girl’s. Hardly had he reached the lower fioor when he heard the rattle of a key in the front door. There was a sound of voices, too. Quick as thought, he darted into a closet under the stairs, pulled the door to until there was only the merest crack be- tween it and the jamb; then he listened. ‘T tell you, ma’am, it was no sick old man,” said a masculine voice. ‘* The fel- low was putting up a job on you. I know what I am talking about.” The young man in the closet smiled as if he recognized the voice. ‘He certainly looked and acted as if he were sick,” returned the woman of the house, somewhat anxiously. ‘‘ There he is, now, on the lounge—no, he isn’t, either. Where in the world ean he be?’ Some explanations ensued, whereupon the man laughed in a sarcastic manner, though it was evident that he was strongly vexed as well. “The raseal has fooled you, ma’am,”’ he asserted. ‘“‘He may be up-stairs, now. I will run up there and see.”’ And up he went two steps at a time. The young man emerged from the closet with a smile on his face. He was such a very young man, hardly more than a boy, it would seem. Af sight of him the woman was about to utter a scream, but he mo- tioned to her reassuringly. ‘Keep still,” he cautioned. “I am all right. Do you know who that fellow is who has just gone up-stairs?” ‘““He said he was a detective, and that he wanted a poor humpbacked old man, who has somehow disappeared.” “That chap a detective?” sneered the youth. ‘“ Well, that is pretty rich! He is masquerading as a detective. Listen!’ He placed his lips close to her ear. ‘* You have been deceived. Don’t I know him? Isn’t he one of that Hole in the Wall gang near here? You had better look out for your spoons and things.” ‘Goodness ‘me!” cried the woman, hur- rying up-stairs and forgetting, in her new alarm, to inquire of her informant how he himself came to be in her closet. ‘* Help! Where are the police?” ‘I will go for an officer,” called the po- lite young man, almost bursting with laugh- ter over the easy success of his maneuver. Then he slipped into the street and walk- ed rapidly away, still chuckling to himself, At the corner was a policeman. “Run to No. 227 in this block—quick!"’ urged the youth. * Something wrong there. Don’t you hear them calling police?" The officer, not questioning the reliabil- ity of a Summons coming from so genteel a person, hastened away, while the youth hurried down another street, nearly chok- ing with renewed laughter. “If that does not settle ' Phil McGraw’'s hash at headquarters, I'm a miserable sin- ner!” he affirmed to himself. ‘ He has been dogging me long enough. When this gets out, old Sloper will certainly have to put him, back to patrol duty again.” Then the young man hailed a street car and rode for a few blocks, descending not far from Broadway and Houston street. He entered a district e‘ty delivery office in the neighborhood of police headquarters. ‘Any one been asking for me?’ he in- quired of a clerk at the desk, at the same time nodding to a number of Messengers in waiting on a settee along the wall. “Yes. It is a fellow from the country, i i Pel = nr ————————EE—EEEEEe I think,” responded the clerk. ‘“‘ He is over at headquarters in Mulberry: Street, now. Look here, Hoke. The manager wants to know when you are coming back to work. He thinks you have laid off long enough.” “Be on hand in a day or two. He can’t get on without me. He knows it, and T don’t intend that he shall. See?’ After this chatting retort, the boy detec- tive took himself off to police headquarters. There he found a kindly-looking, elderly man, who was idly inspecting the pictures and other criminal curiosities in the Rogues’ Gallery there, “I suppose you are Nahum Rawlins, of Ball Play, lowa,” suggested Adam, after a shrewd glance at the stranger. “That is my name,” replied the other. “I don’t see how you knew me, though. [ never saw you before.”’ ‘ Possibly not. But I am the party whe wired you to come on at once, and as my address is apt to be known by parties who: are ugainst me in this murder ease, I thought it best to have you await me here.”’ Mr. Rawlins looked at Adam doubtfully. “That telegram was signed by a de- tective. Now, you are only a boy.. What does it mean, my lad?" “ Ask any of these coppers around here and they will tell you that Adam Hoke— that’s yours truly—is an East-Side Spotter, as Well as a messenger boy. I have a city permit, and am often allowed to carry a pistol,’ “ Well, I suppose I must believe what you say. is. I did not know I had one until the letter following the telegram came. I ought to look after him, as well as see into the affair of my poor brother’s death.” “You have not had much intercourse With the late Eben Rawlins, I suppose?’ inquired Adam, “ Hardly any at all for years, My broth- er did not encourage any intercourse with his relatives. I am a farmer, and don’t write much, That is the reason, I guess, that I only heard of Rube’s father’s death a few days ago. Had I known he was so badly off, I would Have been glad to have helped him. But, at all events, I am not too late to befriend his son. Now, where is the poor boy?" ‘IT am sorry to say, sir, that he is under arrest,” “ Under arrest?” Mr. Rawlins was both alarmed and commiserative, ‘“ What has the poor child done?” “I wrote you that he was in trouble, though I did not state just the nature of it. In fact, but for coming across your address among. your late brother's papers, [ should not have known of you at all.” “I know. But what has poor Rube done? Has he gone and got himself into some scrape?” “If he did not get himself in, been dragged in by others. he is behind’ the bars.” Pas Lord, Lord! Then it was not for noth- ing that I've been feeling so uneasy while [ was wa'tting around here for you. It must have been a’ regular presentiment,” * Must have been; sir. Have ’em myself, sometimes. But, of course, Rube is as in- nocent as you are.” “Glad to hear you say that. But what on earth have they jailed the pcor boy for?” * For being supposed to be an accessory to the murder of Eben Rawlins!” : CHAPTER XIV. SERGEANT SLOPER’S VISITOR. Mr. Nahum Rawlins turned pale with sur- prise and alarm. “This is awfu!,”’ he exclaimed. “Det us go to the boy at once. Poor fellow!” “ Well, this way if you wish to see him he has At any rate, a \ —_ at) —€ @) % Now, tell me where my nephew <i =e ee