Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 100 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

6 The French Spy. if he does, must not como back. You under- | woman whose son ho had brought to a life stand me? Upon his finger is a ring—perchanco several rings. A louis dur for cvery ring. You hear? Avant /—quick, or you lose him.” Far cown Ruo co Lafavetto strode tho disap- ring form of Franz Edouin, and close upon bis hee sped the eager assassins. Further still, at a corner, surged a mob of men and wemen, shouting and cursing vocifer- ously. Toward this excited crowd Franz Kdouin was rapidly walking, totally wrapt in thoughts of possiblo danger to his beloved, and heediess, apparently, of his own danger in deliberately mixing with the jostling, fighting mob. And that there was danger to him, personally, of all men in Paris, will bo soon shown. The riotous throng appeared to bo clamoring for some ono, or something, that had taken refuge, or was hidden, in a restaurant at one of the four corners. They had ignited a huge bon- fire at tho intersections of the streets, and were —part of them, mad with liquor—dancing and gyrating round tho crackling flames, like de- mons let loosc to make earth hideous, all the while shouting blasphemous demands for some- thing or some one secreted within the besieged cafe. he crics and hoots grew louder as Franz Edouin aporoached, though he dreamed not that his p.esence in the slightest degree was the cause. ._ The skulking figures that dogged Franz Edouin were fast closing up behind their in- tended victim. Cautious as rats, stealthy as goblins, like monkeys, they half walked, half ran, as they followed, carrying each a knife be- tween his teeth; now on all-fours, to avoid be- ing scen in a sudden glare, now stcoping and leaping from shadow to shadow, now trotting on their toes as softly asif the hard pave was but a path of velvet. The cloaked and hatted man who stood in the doorway of M. Achefort’s house watched alon the street with impatient interest, grasping on working his fingers upon the door-trame, while his black eyes, under the rim of his crunched hat, flashed wickedly. The light of the bon- fire was beyond Franz Edouin, and his figure, and the figures of the two who trailed him, were thrown in bold relief before the vision of the man in the doorway. “ Parbleu !” he hissed, in exultant anticipa- tion. ‘In that scene of Babel he wil be killed, with none the wiser, nor to aid, if he called. It is good—very good. Ha! ha! Franz Edouin, I shall have the great pleasure to return that ring to mademoiselle— Hah! what is that? See! Parbleu !” For just as the watching miscreant was con- goatalp ting himself upon the speedy assassina- on of the man whom he hated, a great red-blue wall of flame arose, roaring and seething, be- tween Franz Edouin and his murderous pur- suers, stretching from side to side across the street, and darting in zig-zag streams toward the two assassins, who, with a Sere ery of — and fear, turned and fled for their ves. CHAPTER V. | ‘THE MOB. Unconscious of the fact that he was the cause of those additional cries which arose hideously from the swaying, surging, maddened mob con ated before the cafe at the corner, Franz Edouin was hurrying forward, bent gpon ponomp ean ng his important mission to ersailles—though his n.ind was solely absorbed, first, with his beloved Osalind; second, with Dorlan Ray’s mysterious hint at coming trouble; and last, with Victor Bramont, the threatening cause of that. trouble, for whom, each moment his hate increased, although he had never heard of the latter until his name fell, first, from the me the artist, and afterward from the lips of Osalind, whose unmistakable tone of re- ——- told plainly that it was not strange er, and more, that even its utterance was Nor was he aroused from these unpleasant re- fiections until, having arrived in the full light of the b zing pile of fagots, barrels and con- glomerated debris, he observed several men and women running toward him, while a roar louder than all. previous roars savagely rent the air, and above the roar a man—a burly specimen of the Parisian bully—who was mount- ed upon a massive hogshead, yelled, with-all the posret of his coarse, hoarse throat: “ Seize that man, my friends! for itis Franz _Edouin, the detective: and good cause many of us have to hate him. Ho! seize him!” In obedience to this stentorian command those men and women were springing forward, fol- lowed by others eager to lay hold upon Franz ouin, who, notwithstanding the screen of his ample cloak: and hat, was easily recognized by the ruffian on the hogshead. Foremost among those who approached him by leaps and jumps, was a man whom bis dili- nt search of over six months had brought to ial for murder, and over whose head at that moment hung a sentence of death; following him a thief who had chopped off the hand of a brother, while that hand clutched a money-box of bard —_— oo LL -sese ——— ee - ——$—— eles sentence for attempted outrage; and several besides these, of various crimes, all recogniza- bio in an instant, by the broad rays of the mon- strous bonfire, whose prison cells had been burst open by the frantic element of the Com- mune, and who now saw an opportunity to wreak murderous vengeance upon the man who was more or less instrumental in dragging their guilty bodies to justice. ‘Death! Down with him!” ‘Drown him in the canal!” ‘ ** Hang him!” ‘* Burn out his eves!” Another had recognized the detective. A face appeared atthe panes of one of the cafe upper windows, and looked out to see the cause of the new uproar. Then tbe window was thrown open, and the owner of the face shouted: ‘** Back, Franz Edouin! run for your very life!” —the face disappearing immediately-—and none too soon, for clubs, stones and pistol bullets pelt- ed around the window at once, and with such terrific hail, that not one atom of a pane of glass remained in the quivering sash. ‘‘Ah!’ muttered Franz, with a deep breath, ‘“‘ that is Jean Arnold, who served with me upon the detective force. A tried friend and true, These hounds have pursued bim and now seek both our lives. Well may he warn me back. I am in a hornet’s nest. { were madness for me to confront this crazy rabble. I must fly.” Availing himself of the momentary diy r ion occasioned by the scream from the mun au the window, he turned to flee from his assailants, when that sheet of fire, alluded to at the close of our last chapter, arose as if by magic and cut off his retreat. This wall of flame, seeming to arise from the bowels of the earth, which effectually barred the escape of Franz .Edouwin, and saved him at the same time from the daggers of the two as- sassins sent after him by the man who stood in the doorway of M. Achefort’s house, was caused by the sudden combustion of many barrels of poor alcoholic liquor knocked open for drinking P and run to waste upon the smooth pave, until the street was wet as a lake and filled with noxious fumes, from the minute in which the mob captured the lower floor and cellars of the besieged cafe. The scorching heat, the flying brands and showering sparks had at last lighted this liquid serial of streams, which spread rapidly over the street, and at the first ignition, which came like a dull explosion, Franz Edouin found bimseif hemmed by impassable fire in the rear and a mad mass of cutthroat men and snarling women in front, who clamored like the fiends of pandemo- nium for his life. **Seize that man! It is Franz Edouin, the detective! Is not that enough to forfeit his body to our vengeance and his soul to Satan? Let him not escape you!” again howled the man on the hogshead. cf Death to Franz Edouin!” answered the mob. ‘“Down with all detectives!” and now a score pressed forward to aid in so desirable a capture, Vhile this was in progress, the man in the cafe, Jean Arnold—who was the original cause of this lawless assemblage, from the fact of their baving been in pursuit of him—slipped unnoticed from a side door and mingled with the thickest of the crowd. But he was safely disguised by wearing a shabby suit of clothes, and having bis face and hands discolored to the blackness of midnight, while round his head he wore a tight turban, and in his right hand he wielded a cimeter, ail the time shouting, yelling, and scemingly anxious as the rest for the death of the sorely-beset detective. At the time of which we write, and which will forever blot the fair fame of Imperial France, mobs were continual and everywhere and once started were quickly augmented to many hundreds of males and females bent upon pillage and murder. In this instance, the noise aud din that floated resonantly from street to street soon gathered many more to the scene of tumult, who came pouring in squads from Rue du St. Martin, Place Roubaix, Boulevard du Magenta, and all the alleys and scums of sur- rounding neighborhoods. ; Drawing a brace of pistols, and with a pistol in each hand, Franz Edouin backed into a nar- row doorway, brave, desperate and almost hopeless. ‘Come on, then, snarling whelps!” he halloo- ed, loudly. ‘Since I cannot run, I will fights and before I fall, I shall build a rampart ot dead men round me high and strong as the front of Mont Valerian. Dogs of riot! come on! The pistols cracked and frenzied yells were mingled with oaths that made Bedlam of the now luminous night, and told of mortal agonies. Then another cry arose, and the attention of those who danced their orgies round the bon- fire, turned to a narrow street leading, with a turn, to Quai Louis. : “The Death-cart! The Death-cart! Pierre Plaque, with bis death-cart!” was the cry that, for an instant, caused a lull in the attack upon earnings; behind this second man, a Franz Edouin, ’ LO EP ae ee CHAPTER VI. THE DEATH-CART, THE Death-cart of Pierre ae came glidin noiselessly along at full speed, a lean blac borse stretching his lank legs in a breakneck trot, as if to cut a path directly through the closely-packed humans crowding ahead. This vehicle was painted entirely black and highly polished, mounted on two tall black wheels having long, thin spokes and broad tires; the top of the affair being open and tilted to- ward the rear, like an ordinary cart. Inside was a stool also black; across the front a black —_ seat; and on this seat sat Pierre Plaque olding and jerking a pair of bleck ‘reins that terminated, amid a profusion of plain black harness, at the curb of a black bit. Pierre Plaque wore a cone-shaped soft woolen cap of black, whick dangled and bobbed behind in an immense ball-tutton, He wore no coat, but a black vest flapped open, and under the vest a black cloth shirt buttoned tight up in the throat. His skinny legs, in black, shrunken pants, were drawn up until bis heels pressed the front-board of the cart and his toes projected like two spear-pomnts. His fingers, with arms extended, twined, like a bunch of bleached eels, even fiercely round the reins. One eye, from the effect of a deep scar thereon, was widely distended and seemed to look far to the front; the other eye, small, keen and shrewd, appear- ed to take in every object near. His forehead was high, nose hooked, chin disfigured by a monstrous wart, and this wart daiced up and down as bis cadaverous mouth opened and shut, while he screamed shrilly: ‘“ Make way, there! make way! Whereis Jean Arnold, the detective?’ Coming thus suddenly and unexpected, and so grotesque in appearance, and as if from the center of the flames that a few seconds past had deluged the air with heat, smoke and smell— for these flames were now panting themselves out—Pierre Plaque semminded one of a diminu- tive devil rising, with skip and scud, from the regions of perdition, whose brimstone fires he breathed and lived in, But the switt, noiseless black Death cart, and the ogling one eye of the shriveled driver crouch- ed upon the seat, at once betrayed the familiar resence of this recent introduction by order of eneral Cluseret, and the words with which the ugly anatomy greeted the mass of men and women, were taken up and echoed ferociously, “Where is Jean Arnold, the detective? Bring him out that we may strangle him!” ‘‘Hold hard, Pierre Plaque!” cried the burl fellow who had figured upon the hogshead, checking the snorting horse by a gripe that nearly threw the animal backward. ‘ Hold! there is time enough for Jean Arnold—” ‘‘But you were right on his heels—he could not get away!” squealed Pierre Plaque. ** True, e is now in that abominable restau- rant, which we sball presently tear to the ground if he does not come out—” At this juncture the disguised negro wearing the turban and carrying the cimeter, who ha pened near the Death-cart, when it stopped, flourished his weapon aloft, and shouted: ‘‘Death to Jean Arnold! Down with the de- tective!” which was repeated by a hundred screeching throats. ‘‘We have caught another as good,” continued the burly Frenchman, who maintained his — upon the bit while he spoke with Pierre laque. oe i Oho! ‘another as good’ !” echoed the Death- cart driver, cracking his knuckles in evident glee; then he stood up on the seat, rubbing the sides of his hooked nose with thumb and nger and casting his small, keen one eye hither an thither, as if m search of the “other as ood. ‘Who ishe? Where is he? We shall have him in my Death-cart in a trice, and take hima jolly ride before we spike his head on one of the Carricades. Oho! by thé bones of the cata- combs! I see—you have not got bim yet.” And then for the first time he noticed the body of men surging before the doorway, heard the pistol-shots of the assailed detective, and the sullen murmur that demanded vengeance on Franz Edouin. Franz bad not been idle. His revolvers, of finest American make, were belching to the right and to the left, and several dead bodies were strewn prone around him, as if, indeed, he would carry out his threat to build a rampart of corpses as high and as strong as the front of Mont Valerian, ‘“‘Hoh—o!” piped the Death-cart driver, now beginning to caper in excitement. ‘ Franz iouin is a good catch. At him, my brothers! Mind not those little barkers. Hand him ‘up to me, I have beard much of but never saw this redoubtable Franz Edouin. Capture bim, b all means. Now then—now then—at him all Ha! ha!” : Franz bad emptied the last chamber of his weapons and now grasped them by the barrels to use as billies. But a score of bloodthirsty men were upon him ere he could strike a blow, and he was pressed to the earth by an overwhe mass who struck, kicked and = lmming KS EO Omicboo | |