Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 100 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

ee ‘When you shall see this ring out of my pos- session, you may kuow that Franz Edouin is no more to you. Because I shall be dead!” Franz. Edoui>, disconsolate over the loss of the ring, and dreading to meet his betrcthed The French Spy. 9 | pulse that led me to ask the loanof the diamond ring! 'I hear the rattle of a saber. without having it to return to her, felt himself | inasore dilemma, From this he finally roused, by deciding: ““T will never speak with her again, until 1 at the far end of this side passage. oan band back the ritg I so solemnly promised | to keep safe. Now let all the plot and ingenu- ity, with which I have been credited in the past, come to my aid. First, if that foul assassin was Hark! there is a messenger at the door. What brings sol- diery here?” A mc vent later he heard a voice command: ‘* Post a sentinel at the stair below: also at ese Americans are reckless fellows, and Monsieur Ray may have a notion to try to escape.” ‘That is the voice of Philip De Vin!” burst from Franz, in an under-breath. ‘“‘ He is sur- rounded by vassals who would riddle me with bribed by Philip De Vin, then he has, no doubt, | followed me from Paris. Ah! 1 begin to see: the pursuit on the road—tke pistol-shot was meant forme. Paris, then, is the lurking-place of this assassin, and 1 will find him somewhere near the person of Philip De Vin. I will hasten my return to Paris,” nstead of waiting for the night, Franz Edouin left Versailles next morning, disguised as a peddler; and this early departure defeated a bullets at a signal from their villairous master. To confront him now would be extreme mad- ness. I must play at hide-and-seek, for the pre- sent: though 1 would much like to know what brings him to the rooms of Dorlan Ray. I can- not escape below, and this fellow is almost on my concealment, Ah! the roof.” One of the soldiers was rapidly Se ereana and in another instant would have discove certain plans agreed upon for his capture, be- | tween Helen Varcla and the Voodoo of £l Bibou. CHAPTER IX. FRANZ EDOUIN’S DISCOVERIES. ALTHOUGH resolved never to speak with his betrothed until be could restore to her the dia- OO the lover in hiding. Franz Edouin judged rightly that Philip De Vin, in his unquenchable hate for the man who hed escaped the knife of bis hired assassin—with redoubled rage at his proximity when about taking steps toward possessing himself of the beautiful maiden—would immediately have or- dered the guards to shoot down his rival. But ere the advancing sentry reached his post at the mond ring—considering not only its value em- | bodied in the precious stones, but, also, its en- | deared associations—Franz Edouin could not re- sist the desire to be near and gaze, himself un- | _ house in search of a signal-light expected by her When he had spent the day. in clever disguise, | searching vainly for Philip De Vin, and when | seen, upon the face of beautiful Osalird. the darkness ot night fell upon the city, he left his quarters and walked repidly toward the house cf M. Achefort, on Rue de Lafayette, avoiding the localities in which he bad recently very near lost his life, and also making numer- ous detours because of barricades which had been erected since his departure for Versailles. The assassin had reached Paris many hours before him, delivered the ring to Philip De Vin —who swore a round oath of satisfaction when he had it in his possession—and at the moment when Franz Edouin started for Rue de Lafay- | ette, Helen Varcla was pacing to and fro across her room, as seen in our second chapter, witha certain letter in her hand, which she had received during the day, spptining her of the intended return of Franz Edouin on that night; also, the emissaries of the Voodoo were retracing their way from a bootle:s scout upon. the Versailles — road—it being then after the time they had been | given te understand that Edouin could be met and captured there; and, also, Pierre Plaque, the Death-cart driver, was closeted with a ruffian relative, in a south-eastern section of the — city, relating the adventures and mishaps of the previous night, together with certain discover- 1e8 or suspicions concerning the detective, which © deeply interested both narrator and listener, for & reason to be explained hereafter. Entering the fowse of M. Achefort, Franz ouin ascended noiselessly to the flat above. Directly opposite the door of the artist's further and dark end of the narrow side pas- sage, Franz bad climbed out upon the roof, and it was his crawling figure which startled An- nette, as she gazed from the trap of M. Evont’s mistress. Atter firing a shot at the soldiers departing— and hoping tbat the bullet had found the head of Philip De Vin—he returned to the flat of the artist and strode forward to the studio. ‘* Whether I have the ring or not,” he deter- mined, ‘‘I will ascertain what business brought the villainous De Vin to this house.” He walked into the studio—and paused at the sight presented. Osalind, still in that oe swoon caused by the belief that her lover bad perished, lay upon the sofa like one dead. Beside her, and using every convenient means to bring the stricken maiden back to consciousness, was the French girl employed by ie De Vin to play jailer to his prize uutil he had effectually disposed of Dorlan Ray. : ‘*Girl, what means this?’ he demanded, stern- y ‘* Merci!” cried the girl, wheeling in half fright, fcr she had not heard him enter. ‘* Merci! Where do you come from?” ‘** Answer me.” *“Indeed! Who are you?” ‘““It were wiser for you to answer my i tions than to anger me, What brought Philip De Vin here? Where is Dorlan Ray? Ah! my poor Osalind—” and here, with an overpower- ing emotion, he hastened to the side of his be- _ trothed, kneeling and grasping. her cold bands. studio branched a sort of side or communicat- | § passage extending about fifteen feet to another and still smaller one running parallel with the main entryway, and when the door of the studio was open a person at the far end of» his cross-passage could plainly view whatever ‘ transpired inside the apartment. The @oor was now only slightly ajar, and though the lover could see neither the artist nor his daughter, he could distinctly hear their conversation. Im- pees purely by his great love for Osalind, and oping that, by some chance, the door might be opened so that he could gaze upon her, he n- voluntarily became an eavescropper, his atten- | tion being doubly riveted by an utterance from Dorlan Ray, just as he arrived withiu hearing. “Noble Franz!” were the words. er ,,Osalind. Would that he could be here Ww | “ AbD thought the delighted lover, regar dless | of the part he was playing, ‘they talk of me, | and kindly. It is said that people who listen seldom hear good of themselves: yet how can I resist given me her heart’s love, sits and converses be- yond that door? Now Osalind is speaking.” The voice of Osalind: » When the woman I adore, and who-has | | ; i | | | “ Victor Bratsont is our only shadow—this | man of mystery and power. You say that he Wishes me to wed bim—he, a villain; libertine | and outcast. eel may crush you and his ~.achinations de- stroy me. Oh! father, to give up You say, in case I refuse him, his | Franz Edouin !”—and at this juncture she was | startled, as will be remembered, by a noise in | the ge without. The noise was occasioned by a stamp with the foot and a blow on the wall with a clenched fist, as Franz Edouin exclaimed to himeelf: Now, by Heaven! this passes patience! Am I destined ever to meet this hated Victor Bra- mont#—that I may strangle out bis cravon breath! Wed him. forsooth! I shall shoot bim at sight. Oh, Osalind! my beloved, I dare not | the houseo meet your reproachful eyes; but I am near, and — eee eee Then acry burst from his lips. One of the hands relaxed its rigid clench, and the ring of diamonds dropped to the matting. Scarcely be- lieving his eyes, he snatched it up. **Monsieur! Robber! you have stolen my lady’s ring—” ‘* Silence, girl!” And tohimself: ‘‘ Treachery! By having received this ring, she imagines that Iam dead. When she awakes she will know better,” and, unperceived by the French girl, he di ew off a peculiar ring which he wore, quick- ly slipping it on one of Osalind’s fingers. ‘* This,” he added, ‘* will lead ber to believe that I am still alive, and have been here.” Then aloud, and laying hold upon the girl with such a terrible gripe that she screamed outright: ‘Speak! here is Dorlan Ray ?”’ “Monsieur! Oh! my arm!” | “* Where is he, I ask?’ shaking the imprisoned ‘“{ love’) arm rou hly. = pitainer a” ae you?” ‘‘ITam to guard my lady until the return of Monsieur De Vin—” faa trap ‘Enough. I see it all—I cee it all now. But, not et, scoundrel De Vin. Ah! not yet.” — ‘ Monsieur will not take my lady’s ring?” Franz Edouin was moving hurriedly from the room, heedless of the girl’s protest, and mutter- ing os be went: ‘No, Philip De Vin, not yet. Every moment will I shadow you. I know, now, where to find you. When next you come here you will meet Franz Edouin, instead of the trap anticipate. Two deep and deadly enemies have T now; Victor Bramont and Philip De Vin. Farth cannot hold these two men and me. I will secure a trusty messenger, communicate with Osalind and remove ter from tbis net of treachery, while I also see to the safety of Dor- lan Ray, her insuited father,” CHAPTER X. A BRACE OF RASCALS. UNFORTUNATELY for Franz Edouin, the events imynetearey succeeding upon his departure from M. par coa totally disarranged his plans for the safety of Dorlan Ray and the res- with this good right arn will aid you at the | reg <oh eee Na eben of De Vin. i y ro upon the pave outside, proper moment. Thrice accursed the im- ped prey you when he was attacked by three powerful and desperate men—the very three, it chanced, who bad lain in wait for and missed him on the Ver sailles road, and who now recognized him at their coveted prey. Though quick and accurate with the pistol, he had no time to loosen these weapons from his belt, but gave his adversaries smart battle with a short sword, which, since bis return to Paris, he wore beneath his cloak. Being but a poor swordsman—and his assailants rendered furious by his baving previously elud- ed them—he was soon defeated, and must havc . perished, as shown toward the conclusion of Chapter IT, but for the timely intervention of Helen Varcla, whose remarkable prowess in the use of the swore alone saved his life. Having no idea to whom he owed bis deliver ance, an x wry as he lay where he had fallen, watching the wonderful skill of the act- ress, his surprise increased when the maid, An- nette, cried out—as her mistress put to flight the last of the assassins—pointing, at the same time, to the prostrate young man: ‘* Madame! this man is Franz Edouin!” But before relating what transpired when Helen Varcla found herself face to face with one of the men she sc earnestly desired to cap ture, let us see what the important conversation was that progressed between Pierre ne and his > ete: a7 ge te in the home of the first named. The Death-cart driver sat and swayed upon a stool having but one leg fixed in its center. Be- side him was a table containing a bottle, two glasses and a jug. Behind him was a cracked and blistered mantle-piece which ~~ a cheap, sputtering candle. Opposite ,on a stool also having but one Jeg, was a man of rags and dirty countenance, with bloodshot eyes, shaggy head and short, bristling beard. room in which the two had sociably chatted for some time, smoking and tippling, was a small, square, squalid place, more of a den, with low ceiling, stained walls and atmosphere thick with fumes of tobacco and liquor. ‘“'You see, brother Jacoli,” said Pierre Ploque eae in English, with his small one eye c and head askew’, as he lighted a short clay pipe with a sulphurous match, “ you see, the ac- cident of which I spoke might have happened had not my mind been so very much cecupied with the intention to wound—not kill—this so- called Franz Edouin, Thivking of this, and other things of him, {did not see the beap in the road time enough to turn my horse aside; so two dead men and asmash-up. Thanks to Clu. over we went, and the consequence was—well, seret, whom I ge a fine fellow, too good for his associates, I shall have a new cart by to- morrow.” “Well,” growled the other, “supposing you had wounded, not killed Franz Edouin?”’ **Then | should have made a very valuable sini pufting vigorously at the pipe, ané like an oracle. | ca 08 at to do with him?’ ‘ “By the bones of the catacombs!” squeaked Pierre Plaque, removing the mouth, stretchin ear—like a dog a leanin eye rolled round and round. ‘“ Better ask, we Jacoli) what I would have done witb ipe from his his lips nearly from ear to ut to present its fangs—and “Aer!” ejaculated his companion, surprised ‘Did I not say ‘her?” The two remained for a moment, nose to nose. Then Jacoli snapped his fingers, saying: ‘“Poch! Now J catch your meaning. You have told me that this Franz Edouin is the liv- ing image of Gertrude Ray, the wife of the American. You think that he is she. Pooh! repre forward, while bis large one. Gertrude Ray, resurrected, in disguise, and so on. Pooh!” and again his big fingers snapped. “But that is just what I do think, snap and ‘pooh’ to your heart’s content. We know that ude was a strong woman, fond of boating, fencing, shootirg, and many other ex- ercises which men pursue. ogee years might not change her face so much, and ber ac- ments in many arts would admirably fit her for the disguise. Ho! yes. I am quite sure that this same detective is she, and no other, and that she did not die, as you and I su on the night that we robbed the house of Dor- lan Ray,in England. Yes, 1 am quite sure. Dorjan Ray, the artist, is now in Paris. How much money,do you think, be would give, in his overjoy, to the man who could say: ‘ Dorlan Ray, be no louger deceived; the wife of your heart still lives; I can produce her.’ Eh’—how much, Jacoli?” “Pooh, I say! A most unlikely case. And do you think that Gertrude Ray, baving es- caped death—if she did escape at all (?}—would remain for eighteen years sed from the oe she loved with all ber woman’s soulf ooh !’ “By the bones of the catacombs! but ag are a dolt!” squealed and hissed Pierre ; working his elbows up and down exci x ‘*Put this and that together. We know that Gertrude Ray was poisoned by a man whom we a "ot fc ’ “bis Som of poisoning. cony of flowers, upon po The wife of Ray Setnay by some means, ’ : ' ECOYAMICE OOO KS GO! — A et ee ee ee —_——- —r;Ee-e o—