Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 100 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

= a —— —— z 8 never reached his destination, which may ex- _ partly, why, on the appointed morning, he Versaillese were sup sacred armistice by continuin from Mont Valerian and other tteries. The French Spy. oe belt a monstrous pistol car heavy as a rifle-ball. to have violated a | driver was no coward, withal his sly, wicked, the cannonade | calculating nature, Presently the night air reverberated with the ‘‘How happened it, friend Jean,” continued | loud crack of the pistol, and a hissing messenger Franz Edouin, “that you are cast so soon and | of death sped toward the fleeing horsemen. | willingly with the Commune?” Simultaneously sounded a cry of agony from a “Unhappily so, you may add. Ah! it was | man’s lipsand asnort from a mortally wounded my brain to the rescue of myneck. I could not avoid it ”—and Jean sighed deeply: as he paused ata drinking trough to wash the black stain from his face. “Your true sympathies, then, friend Jean, are not with thesc— ‘‘ Butchers?—no. Alas, poor France. Who horse. The large bullet had done a double | deed. There was a stumble, a struggle and a cloud of dust. Into this cloud of dust plunged Pierre Plaque, for he could not check his racing beast. Over and into a horse and man went the Death-cart | shall rebuild thy glories, since our Napoleon is | and its occupants, turning a summerset and one? Hist! was not that some one moving in | crashing to the ground ina wild, wrecked, Jum- e shadow there?’ bled mass, making thicker the cloud cf dust that ‘Perhaps acat. The interest is at the front | enveloped a scene of murder and quick retribu- of the Bureau. No one would come here. Dear friend, I too, am bound for Versailles. In your true ear I may whisper: certain Imperialists, ready to avail of anything that will relieve Paris of this horrid Commune, bave intrusted me with information hitherto known only to the emperor himself, and which will afford vast as- sistance to the Versaillese. Thiers is now in Saxony. When he returns, and our approaches are complete, that wonderful man will make known his plans, which, all feel, are to restore law and quiet to our now bloody streets, even though his government be obnoxious to many. In my jaw I weur a hollow tooth, and in that tooth | att! a cipher of the information I k of. ome—to Versailles! We go toge er. As they left the alley a small, wriggling re erept forward and stole after them round the fence-wall. Even in the thick gloom of the al- ley it was impossible to mistake the ugly little shape of Pierre Plaque, the Death-cart driver. Among the first to save his precious neck, when the detachment of the Guard charged the mob, he had turned the near corner and darted into the dark alley, just in time to shelter himself from discovery ty Franz Edouin and Jean Ar- nold, as the two came from the rear dvuor of the Bureau. “A merry pair!” he gibbered, rubbing his Saepre over and over, like a squirrel nibbling a nut. ‘To Versailles, eh? He has a hollow tooth in his jaw. Franz Edouin, then, is a confirmed y against the Commune. Oho! my birds. ut you may not reach Versailles. I owe you for these half-crunched ribs, my friend with the black face. By the bones of the catacombs! I thought myself a dead man when that wheel sawed across my stomach. We shall see wheth- er you reach Versailles. A gay pair, forsooth!” ithin an hour two men, fully armed, were galloping for a less frequented road to the south- west of Paris, pausing only to exhibit passports, then dashiug on again at full speed. Not far in the rear of these two riders—and noiseless save for the dele. strokes of horse- hoofs—sped the Death-cart of Pierre Plaque in hot pursuit. The beast’s ears lay flat to his head, and his tail flowed straight in the wind. No whip nor spur was needed, but the voice of the impatient driver caused him to leap like a hound on a fox’s trail. Pierre Plaque drove a wonderful horse. The horse, cart and driver being well known no time was lost in stopping for passports or passwords, and he was steadily gaining upon the two horsemen. Two men accompanied Pierre Plaque, and, as if by a devilish chance, they were the same who had been missioned, by the man in the doorway of M. Achefort’s house, to follow and assassin- ate Franz Edouin. “‘T have heard it said,” grumbled one of the assassins, “‘ that who so rides in the Death-cart of Pierre Plaque, that is the last of him or ber. I hope the saying may not come true for us, comrade.” ‘‘ Mon Dieu! I could not afford it. For, in case we do not succeed in killing this man we are after—who is Franz Edouin, the famous de- tective, and for whose death Monsieur De Vin will well—I have another task to perform which is, to advise Helen Varcla, the actress, 0 the hour when he returns two Paris, for which no- tification she, also, will pay well. I think that Helen Varcla owes him a grudge, though she expressly said: ‘Do not kill this man, but watch him for me.’ Pietro, our comrade, is at Rouen on a similar mission—watching a man for Helen Varcla. Whether we kill Franz Edouin or not, I am sure of a reward; and you, my brother, can share it with me.” “Tlike that. Good. We have two chances.” Pierre Plaque paid no beed to this conversa- tion. His keen, small, one eye glanced eagerly ahead, while he urged on his galloping horse; aud only once he squeaked: “Tf we can catch them before they reach the cross-road they will never reach Versailles,” “And why the cross-road, Pierre?’ asked one. ‘You are a dfool! They will have the army of the Versaillese to back them. See! there is the cross-road, and now we are withina hundred feet of the rascals. Ha! get your wea- pons ready.” . Saying which, Pierre Plaque drew from his i RR Rn eee s—1Sm 0S0—0_—_ 0 _ >See | | tion. Only two living forms at last extricated them- selves from the tangle of accident and death; one the horse of Pierre Plaque; the other one of the assessins—the one who had spoken of a bar- gain with Helen Varcla, the actress, as also one with Monsieur De Vin ‘* Mon Dieu !” groaned the wretch, feeling his | ‘Every: | body is dead, I think; the horse, tbe other man, | bones, to see if he was really unhurt. comrade, Ha! a thought. Pierre Plaque and m Somebody, no doubt, I must reach Versailles. will find these dead bodies and bury them. | | have no time for grave-digging. {must go on to Versailles after Franz Edouin; for | perceive that the one Pierre P| Edouin. Now I am off again. let Helen Varcla know when he returns to Paris. How she knew that he would leave Paris is a secret of her own.” While speaking thus aloud he had caught the black horse, stripped everything from him ex- cept the bridle and check-rein, and then bounc- ing — the animal’s bare back dug his heels into the panting ribs. Far down the road a single horseman, now nearly lost to view, was galloping rapidiv to- ward Versailles, and on went the lucky assassin | in hot chase, heedless of occasional shots from ambushed pickets by the roadside. ‘““On to Versailles! On to Versailles!” he spluttered and gasped; and with every word he gave the mad horse another dig with his heels. CHAPTER VIII. THE RING OF DIAMONDS. Ir was true that the brave Jean Arnold, who endangered his own 1 fe to save Franz Edouin, and wea bore on his person a dispatch from the Committee to the Versailles Assembly treating for the relief of men, women and children at Neuilly, had received his death-wound at the hand of Pierre Plaque. Pierre Plaque was vot killed in that sudden and total wreck of the Death-cart, but severely stunned, and fora long time unconscious. Re- covering his senses, and satisfying himself that the extent of his injury was a sprained wrist, he sat up, with legs crossed tailor-wise, and in some bewilderment contemplated the situation. He saw his cart, utterly demolished; then he saw the dead man and horse on one side, and the dead assassin on the other side, and with all his brutish courage he sprung quick, and with a cold shiver to his feet, as if he bad seen the hands of the two dead men outstretched to grepple him, while their ghastly lips cried: «Bierre Plaque, you have murdered us! Now, on this lonely road, we will catch you by the throat and squeeze the wind out of your ugly body!” e also noticed the absence of his favorite black horse and the second assassin. Turning his back upon the ghastly heap in the road, he walked swiftly toward Paris, occasionally cast- ing a frightened look over his shoulder—for Pierre was more afraid of a dead man than a live man in that solitary place—and anon mut- aon his wrath against the fellow who, be sup- had stolen his horse. Franz Edouin eluded the pursuit of the sur- viving assassin, and reached Versailles in am- ple time to deliver the message of cipher to one of the members of the Assembly, that it might be brought forward for consideration in secret session on the following morning. Being provided with passes that enabled, him to come and go, with some caution, between Paris and Versailles, or to any point in_ either city—excepting where factions of riot disputed every authority—and having acquitted himself of his especial ef he made his way to & Se- cluded room to which he retired as the clock was striking two. “ Adventurous night!” be mused, before kneel- ing to thank his God for the life that had been so ape gees preserved to him. ‘ More like a fable of terrors than facts of peril. AJl so quick, so strange, so horrible. Poor J ean Ar- nold, my brave, noble friend. I fancied that I heard the bullet strike his very bone; and never shall I forget his awful scream of pain. ‘Mind me not!’ he said, when I would have paused to succor him. ‘On, Franz Edouin! On, to your duty!’ Then he fell, both he and the horse. ue has shot is not Franz | I must either | kill Franz Edouin, or get the ring he wears, or | eee oe ag. bullet as | But that I bore a precious message having to Evidently, the Death-cart | do with the fate of Paris, 1 would have stayed _ to avenge thatshot. Pray Heaven I may soon _meet and know his murderer. Farewell, Jean Arnold; for I feel that you are, indeed, dead. Another martyr to the consequences of the hor- rid Commune.”’ For cogent reasons, considering the dangerous nature of his dealings with the Versaillese while still maintaining liberty of movement in Paris, _ Franz Edouin continued in the seclusion of his room during the following day. At night he _walked forth, drawing and crunching down his bat and muffling his cloak about bim to conceal his identity, for the detective life he had led made him well known to many of the Ver- saillese. Directly beneath and in the down ward shadow of astreet-lamp, he paused with folded arms. His thoughts were of Osalind, and of the dis- agreeable name of Victor Bramont. So intense was this meditation that he did not perceive a skulking figure approaching at his back. For an hour this figure had been following him like avery specter; now it drew near, and its face _—the face of a wolfish man—broadened with a diabolical grin of anticipation, the right hand clutched a poniard, and the lips muttered: ‘*T think I have you now, Franz Edouin; and since the reward of Monsieur De Vin, for your death, exceeds that of Helen Varcla, for your life, I shall at once make an end of you. Hear. He is talking to himself.” Franz was murmuring aloud: ‘* My business being over with the Assembly, I shall return to Paris to-morrow night. I can- not tarry away from Osalind when | know that Genger of some kind at this moment threatens er. Nearer crept the stealthy, stooping figure be- hind him. ‘‘What can be the strange secret which so disturbs the father and the daughter?’ continued Franz, unconscious of hisdanger. ‘‘ Hated Vic- tor Bramont, whoever you are! if I could meet you, one of us should perish at the pistol muz- zie. Fear not, Osalind”—turning to continue his walk; and in the same breath: “ Ha! not ret, assassin!” The movement had saved his ife. The bright blade of a poniard descended and sunk into the thick folds of his cloak between | the body and the arm, and instantiy the wretch who aimed the blow turned to flee. Buta gripe | of iron was upon the assassin; and the knife torn | from his grasp. | “ Dog-of-a-murderer!” cried Franz Edouin, finally overpowering the ruffian, and holding him pinioned to the pave, with the dagger fair- ‘‘ Villain in the dark! ' ly pricking his throat. | why do you seek my life?” ‘‘ Because you are Franz Edouin,” gurgled the | choking man. —— ‘‘ And Franz Edouin may be your death—” ** Mercy !” ‘“‘Tnever forget a face—scoundrel! and I do not recollect ever having seen yours. I bave in no way crossed you. Tellme, then, who bribed you to strike that blow? Speak, or this knife shall open your guilty veins! “You will spare my life?” ‘Yes, Answer.” “ Colorel Philip De Vin.” ‘“Ab! Why does Colonel Philip De Vin de sire to have me out of his way?” eS LL “T do not know it—I vow solemnly. You said vou would spare my life.” “Go, then,” said Franz, releasing him and iving him a kick as he ran off. ‘ Miserable oe in the service of a coward master! your life or death is nothing to me. But I may not spare ‘ou if you repeat that trick again.” And to imself; ‘‘So, I have an enemy in Philip De Vin, A cunning upstart acquiring momenta rank from the Central Committee. Good. shall be on my guard against him, and ascertain the cause of bis enmity. My foes are multiply- ing fast—ha! Great Heaven! what is this?’ sud- denly pausing and holding up his hands in con- sternation. ‘The ring of diamonds! Itis gone —gone! Oh, Osalind! bow can I ever face you without it? That assassin—” wheeling as if for pursuit of his recent antagonist; but not a soul was in sight, and the surrounding was still as a tomb. The rufflan emissary of Philip De Vin and Helen Varcla realizing the failure of his attempt on behalf of bis first named employer, did not neglect other Spor tinitins During the fierce wrestle with Franz Edouin, he had adroit] slipped the ring of dismonds from the latter's finger, aud as he ran and disappeared in the darkness, he was exclaiming: “ Dieu! how lucky. I have escaped with my life, 1 have the ring, for which 1 om to receive a louis, and I can notify Helen Varcla—for I heard him say that he would leave Versailles to-morrow night. Lucky Hassim!—lucky dog!” This, then, was the writer of the letter to Helen Varela, dated at Versailles and subscribed “Signo,” according to an understanding with the actress; and from this party De Vin recéiy- ed the ring of diamonds, which he handed to Osalind Ray, the next night. and which caused her to faint as she ed the words of hee EoOmicboo <Si