Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 108 — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

—_— —. ee >. ~—>< — — ee e. > “Only just,"’ muttered Sir Lumley, in_a hoarse whisper; ‘‘the wretches—have neztiy—killed me— The brigands made no attempt to separate them now. On the contrary, they seemed to be trying to The Duke of Diamonds. “Father, father, speak to me! Say you are | Vv s 23 a ee ERS TE EE Ga ST AE Se i tome or om Struggling fiercely he shouted out, as well as he ** What do you mean?” he almost screamed. “Am could: I not free yet ?”’ “ Wait a minute, I'll se “From Keerie Sokréhti¢, yes, sare; but not from Mr. Socrates waved his hand, and Sir Lumley was | the Duke of Diamantina.”’ set on his feet, while the brigands who been Helen and aunt Lorelia rose in great dismay and holding back Helen and Lorelia from any sort of in- | alarm, and the elder lady cried out: make up for their harshness on the road, for they | took Sir Lumley off his horse, cutting the ropes | with which he was tied, and laid him gently on the rass. One of them even handed Helen a small , ask of arrack, with signs to give some to her father, who seemed completely exhausted. Poor Sir Lumley swallowed a few mouthfuls of the | fiery liquid, which restored him so much that he was able to sit up and tell the story of how he came in such a pitiable plight. “They tied me to the beast’s tail and made me run with my hands tied behind me. They pricked me up when I fell with their knives,” he groaned. “Then, when I let the horse drag me, not caring whether I lived or died, they fastened me on as you saw, and here I am.” Poor Helen wept bitterly over her father’s woes, and aunt Lorelia came close to them asif for sym- pathy, shuddering an: crying: ‘*Oh, Lumley, I told you how it would be when we left Alexandria in that odious vessel. Why didn’t you stick to our own steamers? Here we are, in the midst of murcerers and cannibals; and Heaven only knows when we shall ever get out, if at all.” Sir Lumley could only groan for answer as he looked at the grim faces of the brigands. CHAPTER XXXV. THE BRIGANDS. ~ Witz they were discussing their position and groaning the dawn was advancing, and they could see the faces and costume of their captors. In spite of their position Helen could not help admiring the beauty of both. The features and figure of so many Apollos, all attired in velvet jackets and leggings, white silk kilts and a profusion of gold ya pp triad € would have warmed the heart of a French artist let loose among them. Presently they heard the scream of a hawk among the rocks, and out rode a tall gecieer tye old villain, with a long beard and curls that swept | a bargain. | | | his shoulders, all of the most dazzling white. He | was mounted on one of the little hill ponies, and his dress fairly blazed with gold as he came to meet them, when all the band raised a shout of: N“ Ats/ At! Keerte! Ai!” “Who is that?’ asked Helen of one of her cap- tors, indicating the advancing old man. The bandit threw back his black curls with a proud toss as he answered: “Na to Keerte Sokrdahtié, guinie.”’ (That is Lord Socrates, woman.) Naturally Helen did not understand anything of this except the name; and that conveyed no idea to her mind, for she had never heard of this particular professor of highway robbery. But Mr. Socrates soon set all her doubts at rest by coming up and saying in English: “T am charm, much charm to see Sare Lomlee. I ‘ave expeck eem for some-a time-a.”’ Sir Lumley looked wearily up. “Expected me? What do you mean?” “T mean that weave hear of de so beauteeful vatch you ’ave wid de ladies. I read de papers, sare, and ve get de Bord du Ni. Charm to see you. We shall enjoy de mountains ver’ moch, dis time.”’ Sir Lumley looked up at him, and saw that the old man’s keen black eyes were bent on him with a curious and malicious expression, as if he enjoyed the prospect of torturing him. ‘We are in your power and must pay for it,’’ an- swered the baronet, sullenly. ‘How much do you want for our lives and liberties?’’ ‘*How moch?”’ said Mr. Socrates, in a meditative tone. “Let me see. You are iuglish milordo. You ’ave de great estate in England.’ **No such thing,’ interrupted Sir Lumley, hastily. | all mellifluous courtesy, went through the formality ‘I’m a poor man, I've only got my savings.” ‘Yes, sare, 1 know. Dey are feeftee t’ousand eenee Ingles in de fou’ (you call ‘im fond?) and de vatch, and bracelets, and necklace of de late ah of Krishnapoor. Js dat not true?” r. Socrates laughed in a silvery manner as he consulted a little book from which he read out these items, and watched Sir Lumley’s face. “Your bankair in Athens is M. de Rosenbaum, sare, and ’e is de agent for Barings, of London, who hold de trust of your fond. Is it not true, sare?” Sir Lumley felt the sweat roll down his face as he stammered: “How do you know my affairs?” “Dat is beezee-ness, sare. I would be poor man if I did not keep de record of de traveliair. My men ‘ave watch you since you sail in de Aphrodite, aud de captain’e be great friend of mine. Ve call eem Keerie Glypteros.”’ Sir Lumley tried to smile. > “That is no news. We felt sure he was a traitor when the Aphrodite left us. Come, how much do you want for us?” ‘Feeftee t’ousand gueenee Ingles, and de jewel,” was the bland response of Mr. Socrates. Sir Lumile nagecred up from the ground and faced the chief in indignation that banished bis fears as Ne — A Re ‘You shall never have it. I'll die first.” Mr. Socrates rubbed his hands together as if he was very well pleased at the retort. ‘*Dat is ver’ good, sare. You can die at once whenever you weesh. My son, Alkibidhdé, will keel you wid de great pleasure. We will take our time about eet.”’ He spoke to one of the good-looking scamps by his ‘ide, who in a 1n0ment had tripped up Sir Lumley, when he was seized by four others and held as in a vise, while Mr. Socrates went on: “We always kill de obstinate people by inches, sare. Alkibidhdé vill begin by knock out your teeth, cut off your fingares, one by one. Ve vill give yc an hour between each loss, to give you @ chance to change your mind. Now, sare, ¥e gin. Alkivichd-, lyptie to keerie.” RG But Sir yoy had heard enovga@ a regen, Rag the last words wel es . des, hit s * wmself gentleman.”’’) not one at a time, wid de butt of his pistol. Den ve "f be | | Krishna terference released them. ‘Good heavens, Lumley, what does he mean? The The women at once rushed to Sir Lumley and | Duke of Diamantina is our friend.” clung around him, imploring him to save his life,to | Asfor Helen she looked at her father in mute consent to anything rather than be tortured to | amazement fora minute, and then covered her face death, and the baronet visibly trembled. Therewas with her hands, ejaculating: something so yt ere in the method of death “And you knew who he was all the time. Would romised by the smiling brigand, and his exemplary | to Heaven we had all died before this came to us.”’ amily were so obviously er to begin operations, | “But what does he mean?’’ persisted Lorelia, that Sir Lumley was demoralized. He tried to make dre “Who is the duke, Lumley? Can’t you answer?’ ‘* Come, Keerie Sokrahtié,” he said; ‘‘ don’t let’s get It was Keerie Sokréhtié who answered for him, into a passion. You don’t want to take all I have in | for Sir Lumley seemed to be on pee of speech, the world and leave me a beggar. I'll give you a **T will calla gentleman who will tell you, madame. check for a thousand pounds. on’t that do?’”’ Ere is Keerie Glypteros.”’ Keerie Sokréhtié shook his head with the same And down the valley came riding a tall, thin man bland smile. in blue flannel clothes, whom they recognized in a ‘Oh, no, sir. I must ’ave an order on Monsieur | moment as the treacherous captain of the Aphrodite. Rosenbaum for all de stock in de fou’, (funds,) The stranger dismounted close to the fire and transfer to my name, through Meestare Baring, in | came up to Sir Lumley. London.” ‘But, what use would that be to you?” asked Sir Lumley, in desperation. ‘‘ They would never pay it to you, without you were identified in London.” “Pardon, sare,”’ was the oily answer. “Iam well known in London. I bank with M. Baring myself.” ** But, if | do any such thing I shall be left a beg- gar,”’ urged Sir Lumley. The old brigand shrugged his shoulders with the same bland smile. ‘You are not seexty yet, sare,and you ’ave de ceeveel serveece. I ‘ave to live as I can, sare.” “Tl tell you what I'll do,” said Sir Lumley, sud- denly. “Ill divide with you. Will that do, Keerie Sokrahtié?’’ The old Greek pulled out a snuff-box. ‘““Reckon you've forgotten me,” hesaid. “‘ My name’s Carver. The gwen of huapoor called me Gilkarvah when | commanded his highness’s body-guard. I had a beard in those days, and it was off when we met in Egypt at the club. Do you re- mem ber me yet, Sir Lumley Lawton?” Sir Lumley was ghastly pale and seemed to be choking, but he managed to whisper: **In mercy—not before them—”’ The Yankee adventurer smiled bitterly, ‘‘Not before them/ Your sister and daughter who have believed you to be an honorable man these years, when we have known you to be a traitor that bit his benefactor! No; not before them! Mercy! Did you show mercy to the noblest gentle- man in India, when you ordered him blown from a ** No, sare, it will not do,” he said, as he openedit. | British cannon and stole his jewels from the dead ‘“*I want’ (here he took a pinch) “ feeftee ’ (pinch) | body, which rotted away unburied in his own mar ** t’ousand pound,”’ (sniff) ‘and de jewel ” (s “ of ket-place? No, no, Lumley Lawton. Twenty years is long to wait, but our time for justice has come at last. Give us a full confession and restore my boy 4 his father’s throne, or you never leave this place ve.” ‘*T will doit,’’ muttered Lawton, with — lips. Carver laughed a short, fierce laugh of satisfae- de late Rajah of cigs aes If you do not decide in t’ree minute, I tell Alkibiéhdé to begeen again.” Then he put up his snuff-box, turned his pony’s head and walked the animal away several paces to where the men had jos kindled a rousing fire. The shuddering group of prisoners saw that they were heating some old knives red-hot in the fire. tion. _Then Sir Lumley, with a great effort, said to his “* That's better. We know each other now. Here sister: is the account which I have made of the affair. It ‘*Lorelia, we must give up your watch. Have you | tells how you made av grees to the Ranee, and the bracelets and necklace with you, there?” how, in revenge for her rejection, you committed Pale and trembling, Lorelia hastily took off that | perjury against the Rajah. It tells how you com- fatal watch, with asplendid necklace and bracelets | Age: Sergeant O’Shea, of the artillery, to give up of emerald, which she habitually wore under her | the watch, presented him by the Rajah, and con- dress, and held them out as Keerie Sokréhtié rode | ferred it on your sister, telling her bo had bought back to them. The old brigand took them with a | it for her. It recites your knowledge of the inno- bow. cence of Rajah Kalidasa, and prays the Empress of ‘*Now, sare,”’ he said to Sir Lumley, “we are | India to do justice and restore the young Rajah to hers, Will you sign the order, or shall we cut you geo ke os Pima There itis. Will you sign it?’ into leetel pieces? e are ready now.” e handed Sir Lumley a large parchment en- a Te grossed = ae ws petition and pointed out some signatures on the foot. CHAPTER XXXVI. “There is Captain O’Shea’s name,”’ he said, ‘‘ with RETRIBUTION. that of Sergeant Major Dobbs, who was the corporal As Keerie Sokraéhtié spoke, his smile became par- | of the gun and saw the execution. There are the ticularly wicked and full of triumphant meaning, | names of nine officers present at the execution, all so that Helen hid her face on her father’s breast, | joining in the petition. Now will you it?” while Lorelia shrieked and shuddered. The unhappy baronet read it over, the sweat roll- Sir Lumley turned very pale and answered, hasti- ing down his face, while Helen and his sister stood ly: as if paralyzed, watching him in silence. “*T consent. I'll sign anything you like. Then you At last he faltered: will let me go, I suppose?’ Life would not be worth ‘“When we ’ave make secure de ’ole beezeness, , sare,’’ was the cautious abs be Then Mr. Socrates turned to his men and called S something in Greek, as he dismounted from his orse. The handsome Alkibia4hdé advanced to his father’s side, took the horse and dashed off among the hills like a re rough rider, while Mr. Socrates, now **I cannot do it, man. having if I owned all that to be true.’ Before Carver could answer Helen swept forward, pale and resolute. **Father,” she said, simply, “is this all true?” Sir Lumley buried his face in his handsand groan- She pressed closer to him. “Don't be ashamed to tell the truth, father. We can make amends, for the past if we only tell the truth. Jam not afraid to work for you, dear. Any- leer, is better than living alie all our lives, Is it rue?’ ““God help me, it is, Helen,’’ he aned, * Diamantina is his son. I knew him and e = moment I saw them.” ” was her quiet reply. “If of introducing Sir sno to his whole band, the members of which bowed with stately gravity as their names were mentioned. “These, sare, are my nine sons,” said the old rob- ber, hee “ Aristion, Stefano, Tokiog, Aristo- télié, Periklié, Demetri, Teseo, Sofoklé, and Alki- bidhdé, who is gone. Dese are my cousins, twenty- three of dem, and dere is our leetel familee. You like dem, sare?”’ Sir my Suir sere f assented, for he could say no less; and Mr. Socrates proceeded to give another long string of modernized classical names, as he proudly paraded his interesting family of cut- throats. “*T ’ave rule de mountain since I was a boy, sare. De Turk and de Greek dey all fear me, and | laugh at de police. Now we wilt ‘ave de dinner, sare.” And the little group of captives soon found them- selves sitting down with a band of brigands, who treated them with the most distinguished courtesy, till the return of Mr. Alkibi4hdé, who came racing back with another Greek ss of clerical aspect, who wore spectacles and had no weapon save an inkhorn and sachel of papers. This personage was introduced as “Our cousin, Mr. Sofoklé;”’ and Mr. Sophocles soon showed him- self an admirable English scholar and an adept in business; for he produced an order on English stamped blanks, ready filled in, for Sir Lumley to sign, transferring his stock in the three per cent. consols to “ Sofoklé, Sokraéhtié and Company, of 98 Strand, London, merchants, for value received,” ‘** Then sign the petitio you did them wrong twenty years ago do them right now. I, for one, am ready to bear the result.” Carver had been staring at her in a singular man- ner all this time without saying a word. Now he beckoned to Keerie Sokréhtié, and the brigands re- tired to a little distance and left the Lawtons to themselves. They could see Helen pleading with her father and hear every now and then the querulous tones of Lorelia reproaching them both, but they did not attempt to go near them, and so for a good half- hour the girl pleaded with the man for justice while the bandits looked curiously on. At last Sir Lumley was heard to call out: “Give me the paper, in Heaven’s name. You wish my public disgrace? Then on your head be the consequences.” Then he came toward them, his face set and desperate, and cried out in tones that showed his fears were all gone: “Give me pen and ink. Ill sign it on one eon- dition.” ‘“‘And what ~ ?”* asked Aa peihle “That you lend me a pistol and fight me, you! you =f have brought all this on ean wie tt Sir Lumley signed the order, after another un- | almost frenzied reply; availing struggle for terms, which was terminated “You shall have it,” answered Carver, promptly; by the threat of beginning operations with red-hot | “ but sign first. knives, and then watched with a rueful face the de- perture of Mr. Sophocles, who galloped away, as the }.wvief informed him, to Athens, to see to the aq,’ , sare,” observed Keerie Sokrahtié, le our leetle affaire. You vill stay ’ere of Keerie Sofoklé wid de monie, and fo Athens. In de meantime I ‘ave “to settle. You vill write out a full confession of de truth in de death of de Rajah of r, to use in de suit for de restoration of his son, Kalidasa.”’ And he rubbed his hands. eo Sanaa sprung to his feet in excessive aston- He took out a gold - and pencil case from his ape with a slow deliberation; then brought out a ittle serew flask of ink which he opened and held ready for Sir Lumley while one of the brigands offer- ed the flat stock of his fon for a hasty writing-desk, With face of ashy pallor but a firm hand the baronet subscribed the record of his own infamy and then threw down the pen with a d curse. The imperturbable Carver calmly picked it up and wrote his owy name as witness, after which he dried the paper a* the fire, folded it uy, put it in his breast pocket, secured his ink-bottle and pen with the same quiet Cen then turned to Sir Lumle observed: < Beit i -s sssssgs ssssss-ssse->—seesesenee LL y and " €COMIEDOOKS 4 ; as Bo fa