Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 100 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

10 The French Spy. —_-~" { served from the grave—and having, by some other means, discovered that there was. a plot to poison her—the fact of her assuming the role of a detective proves. to me that she expects, sooner or later, to meet with the man or woman | —she not knowing which—who sought her life. i Having settled this, and bringing the guilty one | to justice, she will unmask and fall into the arms of her husband. Ho! Iam sure that Franz | Edouin and Gertrude are one and the same per- fi son. Oho! by the bones! yes—” ‘*You are filled with nightmare philosophies to-night,” interru Jacoli, with a_ snarl, ‘‘ Bub hark! there is a clatter on the street,” Thesound of galloping horseboofs fell upon their ears. Then there were audible murmur- ings, mingled with two or three gunshots in the : distance, as if some one on horseback was being | pursued and fired at. ** What madcap race is this?” exclaimed Pierre Plaque, rising aud wriggling to the door, closely foliawed by Jacoli. Reaching the threshold, they were in time to sce a swiftly-speeding horse approaching, his hoofs ringing and thumping loudly, and on his back, with arms twined in a frantic hold around his neck, was a female figure. Directly before their eyes the animal plunged and fell with a mad snort of pain, and the rider was thrown ' saveral feet ead, where she lay still as a corpse. ‘- Hal” sputtered Pierre, springing out. to the horse, which was evidently dead, ‘‘ this beast is full of bullets and bleeding at every joint. But this girl—is she dead? and who can she be, I wonder? Let me have a look at her before this crowd arrives.” A large crowd was gathering to the spot, and Pierre Plaque hastily squatted by the ee figure, raising the head of opulent and rder- hair and ring into the white, cold face, i Then the Death-cart driver acted suddenly in a very strange manner. Grasping the limp form i. in his skinny but strong arms, he ran back to i his abode, calling to Jacoli to follow and bolt i the door without delay. Dies ‘‘Haste!” he cried, in a cracked, excited voice, .‘‘ Quick! Let us escape from the coming a.” | “And what, in Satan’s name, are you going 7 to do with that maiden?’ demanded Jacoli, while he obeyed the order to fasten the door se- curely. 4 & Guo! by the bones of the catacombs! if she be nob dead!” jabbered Pierre Plaque, placing his burden on a wooden lounge, with vest and an old bag for a pillow, and snatching up the jug from the table to wipe and bathe the | face ot the beautiful maiden. Then, as she showed signs of life: ‘‘Qno!l she lives! This is rich. Luck upon luck. By the bones! another prize! Ha! h.a!” and he capered about like a monkey, swinging his cone-shaped woolen cap in the air, ‘‘Auother prize. Pooh!” surlily grumbled , Jacoli. ‘‘ We shall have the crowd hammering | down. our door presenti y In harboring her we may be interfering with some vengeance of the TOE at ae bblat Look’ . ‘* Plague upon the rabble 6 sprung to the mantile-piece, took up the candle and then waved the flickering flame before the face of the maiden, ‘ Look at that,” he yelped, ‘‘ You will recognize? We have seen that face when its\owner was little. more than an infant—in Englaund—about seventeen yeers ago,” ‘Tooth and toe-nail! yes,” snarled Jacoli, leaning cagerly over the wooden back of the lounge. ‘‘L have seen that face when it was worn by an infant.” . ** See!” continued Pierre, in a bysterio gibber, i ‘the very birth-mark—an ace of diamonds—on . the left side of the neck.” Yes!” . ‘Jt is the child of Selissa Gordon, Twenty | years ago, Helen Varcla, now the famous ac- tress, bore the name of Sclissa Gordon, gainin it by marriage with a pealtey Jemeler of tha a name, When the child of trude Ray was two years old, the child of Selissa Gordon—my wife, Catherine Plaque, was its nurse—was sto- len by a wan named Victor Bramont, who stab- bed my wife to death, in the cellar of Proctor Gordon’s house.. This I learned in a letter which my wife wrote to me ere she expired, for I was then in Paris, and have never n to Lngland since, as you know. In this maiden, we have found the lost child of Selissa Gordon, now Helen Varcla, the actress. Gold shall be ours! Untold money! Oho! what a prize!” and again Pierre Plaque commenced a wild dance of 4 gayety. ) But the light that showed these two rascals | the supposed child of Selissa Gordon, will also discover to the reader that their ee was lind Ray, wounded. nigh to death by a terrible and perilous-ride on the horse that now lay full of bullets on the pave outside. CHAPTER XI. a THE ACTRESS AND THE VOODOO. r In the sanie momen} that the maid, Annette, cried out the identity of the man lying on the pave—ond as he was rising to his feet, and as elen Varcla, sword in hand, wheeled around with an exclamation of surprise and gratifica- ! tion—the heavy, iron-picketed gate of El Bibou swung open and two menemerged, The two were the men who had brvught Victor Bramont | to the house of the Voodoo, and, evidently, they had, OYSt Neer the words of Annette, for one asked : ‘‘ Where is he? I have reason to believe that XIlmo, my mi tress, has a special desire to see . Franz Edouin.’ “This way!” called Helen Varcla, not hear- ing the man’s question, but perceiving that the two came from the owl-of-a-house, and judging instantly that they were in the employ of the oodoo, ‘This way, quickly! Aid me to cap- ture this man whom your mistress has bargained with me to have secure in her house this night,” “By Heaven! it is from the frying-pan into the coals!” thought Franz Edouin; and aloud, | he cried: “ Whoever you are, beware! Ihave no intention to become the prisoner of any one. | Back—«]l of you! or this pistol shall—” A terrific and skillful cut from the sword of Helen Varcla knocked the drawn anid leveled pis- tol from his grasp, and simultaneously the two men threw themselves upon him with the ferocity of tigers. Aided by the actress, who succeeded in trip- ping the victim, nz was soon overpowered and bound hand and foot, when Helen Varcla hissed menacingly into his ears: ‘A loud word, or a cry for help, and I shall brain you with this sword!” Realizing the utter uselessness of any attempt to invoke assistance, and his inability to resist further, Franz remained passive and silent in the hands of his captors, tome in spirit at the recollection of his beloved Osalind being now, more than ever, unprotected and in the power of the villainous Philip De Vin. “Oh, Heaven of the helpless!” he thought, ‘* what have I done to deserve this? My ? poor Osalind! God alone can aid you now!” As they passed the as gate, Annette bent over him and whispered, unnoticed by the others: ‘Fear not. Iamsure that my mistress means you no harm.” As she spoke thus encouragingly, the group was brought abruptly to a stand by a loud, sul- len, threatening grow] in front. “The dog! The dog of our mistress!” hissed, in ale the two men who carried Edouin be- tween them, and their knees smote together as the huge dog, Belial, came bounding and leap- ing down the broad path to attack the intruders. nnette sunk to the grourid on her knees, covering her face in terror, Franz Edouin ae one glance at the monstrous, savage, biood- thirsty animal, and averted his face with a feel- ing of sickness. Helen Varcla alone seemed un- moved by this prospect of a terrible encounter. She s in advance, her form slightly bent, with one foot thrown out, and the hand that carried the sword drawn back past the bip. Her teeth were set and every muscle gathered for one fierce blow at the coming foe. On he rushed, his massive jaws snapping, his fangs grating; at every leap he uttered a mad p and increased his headlong speed as he yel neared the group. Meritt have heard that yelp before!” ex- claimed Helen Varcla, a sudden light gleaming in her eyes; and she called sternly aloud the one word: “* Belial |” The brute slackened his gait at once, and if he could have gnoken he would have said, much like Helen Varcla: “Surely, I have heard my name called by that very voice before!” ** Belial, pet, come here!” commanded the actress, following up the effect produced by her first word. Belial halted a few leaps from her. Then he gave vent to a prolonged whine and trotted for- ward, rearing upon his hinder legs until he towered above her bead, and placed both big paws upon her shoulders. The next minute she was patting him affectionately on the bead and ears and.smoothing his still bristling back. ‘* Mon Dieu !” blurted the astonished agueras, “instead of the dog deyouring her at one snap, they are hugging each other! Look!” Annette was both terrified and amazed at the novel position of her mistress. Helen Varela was speaking to the dog in English, and could the others bave been near enough to catch, and all understand her language, they would have heard something like this; ‘Good Belial! Oh, my favorite! How strange to meet you here! Ten years have since you were stolen from me, and though you were then but a year old, you do not forget the first mistress who fed you. There—there—good fel- low! no kisses from your ugly but precious nose. Let me pat and play a moment with this bairy head. So you wish to hug me? Ha! ha! ha! You gave us quite ascare, a momentsince. Have you forgotten this sound?”—puckering her lips and tri ing a shrill whistle, to which Belial an- swered with two distinct, loud, hoarse barks. ‘‘No, I see you remember the signal of your mistress. , Daring her address, she was receiving kindly ths demonstrations of the terrible though sa- gaciene brute, until he had recognized, beyoud oubt, a former and much-loved mistress 1n the LT eit OL LLL LLL LL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LL —— a aie. | | woman who, a moment previous, he would | readily have torn to pieces. Gently removing the herculean limbs from her shoulders, she turned to her companions with: ‘‘Come, friends; this good dog is an old com- rade of mive. Whoever walks with me need have no fear of his teeth.” She started toward the house, Belial trotting docilely at her side, and the rest of the party following rather timidly. | “Ay, but this woman is a witch!” declared ' one of the men who carried Franz Edouin. ‘‘ For none but a witch could so easily charm such a devil-of-a-dog !” Annette, with a sudden comprehension dawn- ing. was saying to herself: “There is but one explanation of this, The | mastiff must be the same that was lost or stolen from my mistress when she played in London ten years ago. It was the last gift of her hus- band, a few days before he died. I have beard her call him with that same peculiar whistle sho gave just vow, and the dog would come though a hundred men barred his way.” Arrived at the door Annette gave the bell a ull. The answer being tardy, Helen Varcla erself wrenched at the knob, occasioning those | impatient sounds heard by Zabach and the Voo- doo justafter the latter had consigned Victcr Bramont to the secret pit beneath the room where she carried on her orgies of mystery. Let us make a note, here, that the actress and the Voodoo had never met in any arrangement transpiring between them since the sojourn of the former in Paris—whatever business there was being transacted by deputy, and that deputy was the faithful Zabach. Now, when they gazed full at each other, and in the silence which followed the speech of Helen Varcla at the close of Chapter III, the latter seemed struck | by some strange and thrilling likeness which she beheld in the brown features of the reputed sor- ceress. The staring eyes of the Voodco glistened like stars, and her whole frame quivered with a mo- mentary excitement. Recovering her calm weirdly bearivg, she stalked forward, dropped her death’s-head cane and grasped both of Helen Varcla’s hands. ‘“‘ Now I know,” she said, so low that none but the actress could hear her, *‘ how you could safe- ly pass Belial. I was told that Helen Varcla had lost a child, which no one but Victcr Bra- mont could find for her; also that you suspicion- ed Franz Edouin to be that child. Had 1 seen your face before, I could have undeceived you, notwithstanding you received a taunting letter from Victor Bramont, telling you that he in- tended to rear the child in man’s garb and to the vocation of aman. His was an ubsurd and impracticable threat, though you, picking eager- ly at rey hope—tke hope strengthened when | you beheld Franz Edcuin’s womanish face—be- ieved him. I cun tell you that Franz Edouin is a true and famous man, and not your child, be- cause your child was agirl. HadI known, also, ten years ago, that you had changed your name to Helen Varcla, I could have returned to you the dog, Belial; for 1 knew that he belonged to srs Gordon, and Selissa Gordon had disap- peared. “Do not trifle with me, woman,” broke in Helen Varela. ‘‘Since you know me so well, and so much of my business, tell me who you are? And if I have a wrong clew, or no clew at ,can you tell me where to EEE Send —- all, to my lost child look for that child? ‘““XImo is notoricus for her wisdom,” replied the Voodoo, who never once removed her pierc- ing glance from the other’s face, * but she can- not tell you where to find your long-lost daugh- ter. As to who I am, you will learn anon, Suffice it, that 1 once loved you—a singular con- fecsion for one like me—when your nume was Selicsa Gordon. Zabach”—signing for the two ruffians to begone—‘' conduct those men Le- cond the gate; return, and we will visit Victor ramont.” ‘‘Vietor Bramont! Then you have the wretch safe?’ cried Helen Varcla, glowing with exulta- tion. “He is my prisoner. He shall tell us what became of the child when he snatchcd it from the puree, and nigh stabbed that nurse to eath. ‘‘ Then she did not die?” “No, though you were at the bedside when re- covery feemed impossible. She lived, Helen Varcla—iived for vengeance on Victor Bra- mor t!” ‘* Now, by all the know you. You are— “Hush!” A quick, commanding gesturo checked the words upon Helen Varcla’s lips, ‘‘ Franz Edouin,” said the Vood. 0, proceeding to liberate the young man, ‘‘ you are free, He wise, and do not attempt to pars Belial until either Helen Varcla, Zabach or | can accompany you,” good memory of mv life! I CHAPTER XII. BRAMONT AND HIS ENEMIES. ‘‘Drpenpd upon it,” said Frunz Ecouin, in re ply to the Voodoo, ‘‘I have no wish to be de- voured by that great dog of yours, and will wait until] you can give me safe conduct beyond GOMmiGDOokKs ali (E()