Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 100 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

» —* severely that his immediate death seemed im- minent. en ‘**Save him for me!” shrieked Pierre Plaque, rising on tiptoe, and sawing the air with his at- tenuated arms. ‘Save his life. Get him into the Death-cart!” In answer to the loud cries and frantic ges- tures of the Death-cart driver, the burly French- man left the horse’s head, and was elbowing, squeezing, fighting his way toward the pros- trate form of Franz Edouin; his huge fists as- cending and falling, sawing and hammering in mighty sweeps and rib-digging pokes, until, reaching the doorway and standing astraddle of the fallen man, he bellowed: “Stand back all! Come within reach of these big paws, and | wi.l mash your heads like so many grapes in a wine-press. Keep back— you hear? e want this man for the Death- cart cf Pierre Plaque; afterward, you may hang, drown or shoot him, as you please.” Partly awed by the brawny arms and scowl- ing visage of the gigantic rascal—who was a most popular leader of this particular riot—and tickled with the idea of riding the dcetectiv~ through the streets of Paris in Pierre Plaque’s Death-cart, the mob, swayed by both indc- ments, howled, with one voico: ‘* Yes! Into the Death-cart with this d¢test- ablo detective! In with him! And after ward we may shoot, drown, hang or strans/?2 him. Live Pierre Plaque!” Unfortunate Franz Edouin heard tese cries and thanked Heaven that even a few moments more of Jife were left to bim. Braised from head to sole, he was not yet insorsible, but, at the time, unable to speak or rise. “Toss him over here!” called Pierre Plaque. “*Bz ths old bones of the catacombs! we shall 0 him a ride, then build 2 guillotine with— al the very thing!”—esvying the supposed negro and the cimeter he carried. ‘‘The very thing! Come here with that sword of yours. {t will fashion a guillotine to cut off the head of this miserable detective!” At one bound the black fellow leaped into the cart, saying, willingly: ‘““Ay, Master Plaque, we'll ride him first in the Death-curt, and then cat off bis dog of a head. Bravo! Bring us the detective!”—the pst 40 “he French rutfian who, half supporting Y-anz Edouin, whose arms were pinioned, was sow forcing the victim forward. When seated helplessly upon the stool within the dreaded Death-cart, the very soul of Franz Edouin recoiled, ani a shiver like the ice of death convulsed bis frame. He saw no mercy in his captors, and therefore shut his eyes upon the whirling scene. He had heard of Pierre Plaque’s Death-cart. By General Cluseret’s orders it bad been made, and to serve the malice of certain underlings of the Commune it was frequently used. It had hauled several wretched men trom the Depot des Condamnes, Muzas, and other prisons, to destinations as yet unknown to the thieves, felons and lesser desperadoes and viragoes then ruling and running Paris, and any one once rid- ing behind Pierre Plaque, in his somber vehicle, was never seen nor heard of again. Quite soon, therefore, the conveyance was known by every One in the city as a veritable Death-cart. But ranz Edouin had never till now beheld the dried, shriveled, vindictive driver of the Death- cart, for only with the uprise and devastating rrors of the red-flagged Commune had Pierre suddenly sprung from obscurity to notoriety, ents for himself a name of malicious cru- eilty. or bad Pierre Plaque ever beheld Franz Edouin, though having heard of his famous ex- iOits in the role of a detective, and now that e had this noted personage in his cart, with the prospect of seeing him speedily beheaded, Le stooped and bent his ugly little shape, and peered, with his still uglier face, into the coun- ‘tenance of the oo tae Then, at one glance, he started back as if he had seen a ghost. : ‘‘Oho! that face!” he sputtered, in English. ‘* By the bones of the catacombs! I have seen it before. But tnat I saw a certain woman die— and she was poisoned, I believe—in a certain house in England, I would swear that this Franz Edouin is that same woman in disguise. Itcan not be, though, for I am sure I saw her die. Yet what a strange resemblance.” It must_ be stated here that Franz Edouin though tall and finely developed, muscular and brave, _ a —r effeminate face, made more so € iong, 100se brown curls hangin disheveled. full beluw his coat collar. With his eyes now closed to shut out the horribly sug- gestive tumult surrounding him, and bis ucual stern and flashing glance hidden, this womanly appearance was more striking than ever, and forcibly reminded Pierre Plaque of some one he had seen poisoned to death. ‘‘Come—be jogging along there!” wled the ruffian Frenchman, jumping from the eart and slappivg the horse with bis open palm. Plaque m4 onto his seat and gave the reins a violent jerk. Away went the cart, with the crowd on either side, hooting like demons and throwing both epithets and missiles at their cap- tive, e supposed eon os stood behind the , aver whose the cimeter flourished The French Spy. — —— LS anon in gleaming circles, threatening to decapi- tate him witb each sweep. As they moved ahead amid the cries, how]s screams and FE of the insane throng, some o whom carried torches and blazing brands, Pierre Plaque continued to mutter to himself, in the English language: ‘*How s*range! Whataresemblance! Who can he be? so like the woman I saw die dead, dead, dead, in England, years ago. But be he whoever he is, he is now in my Death-cart, and that is the last of him; for whoso rides on that @ wheels of the cart, which passed over him and wrung forth a squeal almost unearthly in its agony. The cimeter of Jean Arnold cut the bonds of z Edouin, and the latter, armed with a ' ‘sh » long dagger, followed his {friend in a | ruffia quick, irresistible assault upon the few of the mob.who were yet in the vicinity of the Death- This attack, with cimeter end dagger, hoth keen, well-handled and unsparing—the opposin ns having nothing but frail sticks an stool beck there, rides to his or her death. SolI | half-burnt brands with which to defend them- shall bother my brains no more about him.” As Kranz Edouin was thus bein to a foom he dared not imagine how horrorful, feeliag that naught but a miracle could save him, and still keeping his eyes closed upon the beisterous mob, he became aware that a strong band was griping and pinching him upon the shoulder, as if by way of a signal. Presently his veins thrilled, as a low-toned familiar voice uttered in his ear: “Have hope, Franz. The course is toward one of our Bureaus of Commissaire de Police ; even now the red square lantern is in sight, and these murderers have no heed which way we go. I have asharpand ready blade to cut your thongs. WhenI ih the word—by crying into your ear the word ‘ Now ’—we must leap for it and 3 into the Bureau. Do not forget the signal. ‘** Jean Arnold!” exclaimed Franz, in the same ' selves—not only overwhelmed them with sur- borne along | prise, but laid many of them bleeding on the ve, and cleared a path for escape ere the pain- screams Of Pierre Plaque, or the angry cho- rus of others for help could apprise the great body of the mob of what was transpiring. *“ Quick, Franz Edouin!” cailed Jean. ‘‘ Look! The door of the Bureau is opened for us, and they are barring the iron doors for defense.” At the moment when the mob drew near there were a score of Gardiens de Paris congregated in the Bureau, and a few had come cut to ascer- tain the cause of the disturbance. It happened that those assembled had not yet cast their des- tinies with the Commune notwithstanding that new power had proceed itself the champion of individual liberty, the rights of conscience and the energy of order; in fact, were on_ this night oe Le wisdom of such a course, as mise to final action. Not yet bcing identi- guarded tone and without turning his head. | fied either way, and recognizing a part of the ‘How, under Heaven, are you here at my side | destructive element ot the Commune in the ap- and unharmed?” proaching crowd of rough, fiend-like men and Jean Arnold was silent. He already feared | women, and perceiving the Deatii-cart, with that his brief communication with the prisoner | whose brief and abominable record they were had been observed, for Pierre Plaque was at | both familiar and disgusted, they were even on that moment gazing intently at the sup ’ negro, with his small, keen one eye, seeming to have scented or discovered something suspicious. CHAPTER VII. THE ESCAPE, THE mob was now approaching one of those Bureaus of Commissuire de Police which abound at convenient points in Paris, where persons may lodge complaints or seek informa- tion of lost or stolen articles, and generally ob- tain satisfaction, for the reason that the Gardi- | ens de Paris, local and imperial, were alike in being everywhere and among ail classes, high and low, to such perfect extent, and in such cunnin”’ disguises, as rendered any task in their line of duty comparatively easy to perform. While Franz Edouin gave himself to hope | } that he might escape—stealing a covert plance | at the lantern ahead and keeping his ears alert for the expected signal—Pierre ue was me- glecting his horse, allowing it to pick its own way, and was keenly sib eniyriy | he supposed negro, his second companion in the Death-cart. n the jostling, squeezing and rubbing. of many bodies, the lampblack which made Jean ' ' | i ‘ the point of charging the mob—though it might have required the whole four thousand five Lun- dred police of Paris to disperse them—when the two men made that bold vash for liberty which excited the admiration of lookers-on, and caused many to cry, encouragingly: *“Hollo! this way. Make haste!” Others, foreseeing an attack upon the Bureau, asaresult of sheltering the two fleeing men, sprung to double bolt and bar the heavy win- ows. In fewer seconds than it requires to tell it, Franz Edouin and his friend, panting and ex- bausted, were safe behind the massive door against which rattled and railed the impoten bullets, stones and chagrin oaths of the infuria- ted mob, “Jean Arnold, I owe you my life,” “There, friend; you would have done. the same forme, Hark! something fresh is happen- ing without.” e disappointed mob, bent upon forcing an entrance, aud replying in like to the _ pistol- shots poured upon them from the upper win- dows, failed to perceive a body of horsemen that swept into the street at a gallop round a Arnold appear to be avery black negro had | distant block. The first apprisal they had of been scraped upon his face, and, unknown to | the new-comers was when a hundred sabers him, there was a great white smear on one | flashed from their sheaths and dropped to head- cheek, betraying the true color of the skin be- | level asa bugle-blast ordered the alana neath. “The National Guard! ‘Take care!—the Na- Pierre Plaque, casting a look over his shoul- | tional Guard!” yelled the panic-sticken rioters, der to make sure of the safety of his prisoner, had been arrested by the too-vehemeiit behavior of the negro, and at once observed that white smear on the latter’s cheek, Having now.an epepe ey to scan more closely the features of the man he imagined was a genuine negro, and aided by the blazing brands and torches of the mob, he saw that the smear was neither paint, chalk nor dirt, but that the owner of the black face wore a white skin under it. ‘Oho! my lark,” thought the Death-cart dri- ver, turning his gaze in another direction, that the sen ie negro might not have a suspicion of his discovery. ‘‘ Aha! my bird. I bave two whites in my cart. One is masquerading. What for? AmT blind? Oh, no. One stroke of that tive, is free. save him. A beld friend. Isee. Ha! ha!”"—a low chuckle—‘‘ Now I shall give them both to this thirsty rabble. Not a rib nor a nail will they leave. Let_me show my masqueradi fellow a trick. I will take this street ahea Hollo, there!”—in his loud, cracked voice—“ turn to +s rin ga sax, ‘‘Turn to the t!” passed from mouth to mouth above the din of voices. During Pierre's discovery that he had two white men in his cart instead of one, he had per- mitted his horse to walk, while the mob, on a half-run, kept forging ahead; so that by the time the corner was reached—which was but a few yards from the Bureau of the Commissaire de Police—scarce a dozen remained around and behind the prisoner in the Death-cart. “This bit of information,” chuckled Pierre, ‘‘] shall keep for the rabble until we are at the spot of execution. Then we shall have a double exhibition. By the bones of the catacombs! it will be sport—rare sport. Oho!” He was cut short by a sudden and shrill voice in hisrear. The voice cried: ** Now !” And simultaneously Pierre Plaque was knock- ed beadforemost from his seat, under the who broke and fled precipitatel Y- Slashing thuds and groans of death mingled with hearty oaths where asudden jam was mis- taken for a rally of resistance; thundering hoofs and ringing steel bore down the fleeing hurde. Then a saber hilt rapped at the Bureau door, and a voice commanded: **Open to the National Guard!” General Cl useret, during his brief career as Delegate of War, was too shrewd a soldier to _care to-lose the four thousand five hundred | trained police of Paris in the coming struggle, , and this detachment of the Guard, which ar- rived so opportunely, had been dispatched to _ascertain the sentiment of this particular pre- gonistic to the Commune. While the Guards were routin _fecture, and make prisoners such as were anta- cimeter, and Franz Edouin, this rat-of-a-detec- | A friend who runs this risk to | g the mob, | Franz Edouin and Jean Arnold were making _ their way to the rear of the building. ‘“‘ This unfortunate affair has delayed me sev- eral ho ” remarked Jean, as the emerged upon an alleyway where all was still and dark, and nothing but the rumbling explosion of bi at the west of Paris broke the silence o e night. After so much noise and excitement, the pre- cinct of this cess of a grave. alley seemed like the re- Delayed you in what, friend Jean?” ques- tioned anz, glancing about him as if fearful of the presence of some lurking spy oi the mob. with a dispatch "y at Versaille a l wi “*T was intrusted, at sunse from Cluseret to the Assem being instructed to return by now have a hard ride of it. ylight. “To Versailles!” exclaimed Franz. it is my very direction.” ce Why, The message intrusted to Jean Arnold was a notification from the Executive Committee, for a over the signature of Cluseret, treatin suspension of arms at Neuilly, t hat the old me women and children, non-combatants, who ha lived and starved f pertnitted to enter Paris. GOmic JOO S or weeks in cellars, might be This frat messenger ; (eLoy |