Beadle's Dime Library No. 146 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

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I never thought of it!” Doramus axclaimed, suddenly. i! ** Never thought of what?” ‘“* My embalming process; where am I to get aoe oor and how about my two hundred te) CHAPTER XIV. 1 THE PROPOSAL, , _ Lrxwall the street boys Hoppergrass was a | ‘firm believer in luck; there were lucky days— | days wken he disposed of all his newspapers | ‘without any trouble—and unlucky days when 1 he was ‘* stuck” with ten or twelve copies, thus — ractically eating up all his profits, and there- hy ore, when in addition to the windfall which i had come to him through Miss Eldon’s gene- _rosity, the strange lady held up a silver dollar ; as an inducement for him to tell what he knew about Dogtor Diamond, he was quite sure that | this day aboveall other days was going to be a lucky one for him; so he gladly followed the lady up the street. hen she came to the next corner she turned it and the boy trotted on after her. In the middle of the block, close to the curb of the sidewalk, a small, noat brougham was standing with a coachman in plain clothes on Y the box. ‘““You need not get down, John,” the lady i said, as she came up to the carriage and the coachman rose in his seat with the evident in- tention of dismounting and opening the door | orher. “ And I will give you warning when ) wish you to start, which will not be for some little time, as I want to talk with this boy t first.” Then the lady opened the door of the \! vehicle and motioned for the boy to get in, but i he hung back, not knowing exactly what to | think about this proceeding. He was sus- ¢ icious, naturally enough, for all through his brief life he had found people much more read y todo him harm than good. And he had ten dollars, too, in his pocket—a fortune to him, and the idea flashed upon him that ‘‘mebbe ” | , ——- — — —- -- some one had heard of his wealth and this was 1 a plot to wrest it from. him, Therefore very ) doubtfully indeed he looked at the carriage and the lady. { The lady saw at once that the boy was sus- \ icious. iY **Do not be afraid; no one will harm» you,” ‘' she said. | , ‘** | dunno,” Hoppergrass replied, with a shake ] of the head; ‘‘ you might curry a feller off, ar- ter you got him inside of that hearse.” ** And why should I carry you off, my little ' man?’ she asked, really attracted to the boy by his shrewd face and honest way. I dunno.” i * And what would I do with you after I got ) ou?’ . i, If the boy had spoken what wasin his mind ‘a he would have answered, ‘“ Take my ten dollars . away from me;” he contented himself with an- Ht other ‘‘ Dunno.” wessht Hy “*There is not the least cause for alarm. I iy merely want you to enter. the carriage so that Ni ‘Lean talk with you without exciting attention, iy which we would doif we remained in the street. i Believe me, I have no wish to do you barm; on a the contrary I will befriend you if you will do i as I wish.” / _. The hesitated no longer; he was con- -quered; there was something in her voice that went straight to his heart; so into the carriage 4 he got and the lady followed him. ih lt was an odd contrast; the poor, miserable | little boy with the ragged great-coat covering him all up from neck to heels, and the elegantly- dressed lady sitting opposite to each other in fy the vehicle. Mt ' After entering and closing the door carefully . behind her the lady threw up the thick vail which she wore, and the boy had a good view of her face. To his notion he had never looked ope. a more beautiful one, not even excepting iss Eldon’s lovely features. An altogether different style of beauty of course. iss Eldon was the kind of girl whom he would like to i 4 marry when he got big and was prospering in hy the world, but this lady—why, she was to be iy respected and cnanbined like a sort of a queen. it ‘**Whatis your name?” asked the lady, gazing i euriousky upon the intelligent face of the boy. . ‘* Hoppergrass, ma’am.” , ‘ Thatis your nickname, I presume, but what is your right name?” H Never had any other that I knows on.” | “Oh, but you must have had some other ’ | name; that is no name at all.” ** It’s the best I’ve got.” ‘‘It means grasshopper, I i 700g given te you when you were quite itthe because you were lively and smart.” | ie ‘* Mebbe; never was called anything else.” ‘‘ But what is the name of your parents?” suppose, and was i “ Ain’t got none.” ul ‘But what was their name?” the lady per- i sisted. ‘* You have had a father and mother at | _ some time, you know.” aK “‘ Mubbe I did,” responded the boy, but very Ns ” But *% you know anything about your ay ‘No ma’am; I never heered tell on ’em af all; good boys, ma’am; they ‘ The Doctor Detective. sometimes I think that mebbe I am like the nigger gal in the theater play wot never had no father or mother, and never was born, but pe wed,” observed the boy, with a humorous winkle in his bright eyes. _ “Who brought you up?” she asked, deeply interested in the story of the lad, for a page like this from real life was something that she had never before encountered. ‘*Oh, an old Irishwoman named Bidd Murphy, who had three more children, all bigger’n me, and she said that I was her son, too, but I know that I wasn’t; there ain’t no Paddy-whack ’bouf me! And the rest on ’em, too, all had real red hair and blue eyes, and I’ve got brown hair and eyes; ’sides, 1 wasn’t like he other boys at ali.” ‘Where are the others now?’ she questioned. ‘€ Oh, I don’t know much about them; I don’t travel with the same gang at all; they ain’t e, and swear, and steal, and the ‘ cops’ have had ’em up afore the ‘beaks’ two or three times, and they were h’isted up to the ‘ Island’ for the good of their health. I staid with Mrs. Murphy until I was about ten years old; used to sell papers with the rest on ’em, you know, and give her the money, and got mighty little to eat, too, ’cos she spent all the cash for rum as fast as she got it, and then, ’cos I didn’t make money fast enough, she tried to get me to learn to pick ape from an old blind beggar who lived on he same floor with us in the old barracks down on Cherry street; he used to be on that lay, and ’eos I wouldn’t doit she took to walloping me, sol jest cleared out and set up on my own hook.” ve You are a smart boy and I hope an honest one. ‘* Well, ma’am, I tries to be, ’cos I know that them that lies and steals never prospers, for they are sure to get nabbed some time; and then, somehow, when I’ve seen a good chance to make a grab and run and nobody near to catch me, [ couldn’t alps, myself to do it,” “ Thatis right; always be a good boy and you will get on; and now, in regard to the doctor; you know him?” ‘Oh, yes; mighty good man too, I ess; all the folks down in the court where I ang out speak well of him; they say that he is a furst- class saw-bones; and he don’t pinch quarters till the eagle squeals, either; some of the doc- tors, you know, when they come to see poor folks want their money in advance; no money, no doc,” ** He is liberal then?” ‘* Yes, he trusts—gets, skinned. mighty often, too, but it ain’t the fault of the poor coves; when they ain’t got the ducats, they can’t pony up.” **Do you know anything about the doctor, more than that his name is Diamond, and that he is a doctor?’ | ) “ Well,” replied the boy, débating the subject over in his mind, * I don’t know much of any- thing ’bout him, ’cept that he is a doctor, and that he is a pretty square man, and that he ain’t been home since l»st night, and that the lady wot takes care of his house, says that she guesses that he will be home this morning, ’cos he didn’t leave any word that he was going away for any ‘* Ah!” exclaimed the lady, evidently excited by the intelligence, ‘She has not: been home since last night! Now, what does that mean?” The question was addressed much more to herself than to the boy, but he took occasion to answer it. ‘Guess he is attendin’ to some sick people, ma’am,”’ ‘*Or has he proceeded: to put himself at once upon the defensive, anticipating. my action?” she murmured, Mepiotenens stared, for he did not under- stand what she meant. ‘“Would you like to earn quite a little sum of money?” she asked, fixing her brilliant eyes upon the boy’s face. ‘* Jest you try me!” ‘*Here is a dollar to commence on,” and she placed in his hand the coin with which she had dazzled his eyes when she had accosted him as he sat on the stoop. ‘* Much obliged, ma’am. Whatam I to do— is it easy?’ | ‘Tt is not very difficult, but you must keep silent in regard to the matter, and you must not let any one know anything about it.” “Oh, Pm jest as close as an oyster, ma’am, when I’m told to be.” ‘*T take a great interest in this Doctor Dia- mond and for certain reasons I desire to know all about him, where he goes and who he sees, either by night or day: want you to follow him as closely as his shadow, and, above all, be careful not to let him discover that he is be- ing watched. If he shouldmake thatdiscovery it would ruin everything, Then you are to come to me and report all that you have ascer- tained. Do you think you could do this?” The boy, it was easy to see, was very much petiplecten He stared at ———— ig cvin in is hand, then he looked up tely in the ’s face and then down at the dollar again. ‘* What is the matter+—why do you hesitate? Do you think you would not be able to aceom- lish the task?” she asked, finding that the boy esitated to speak. ‘‘Oh, yes, ma’am; I reckon I kin do it; it ain’t so orful hard for a snipe like me to dod a man; I guess I could do it and not get ketched, but I ain’t got it into my wool wot you want it done for yet” and as he looked her square in the face the expression of gravity upon his fea- tures was decidedly comical, ‘**But that is my business,” she said, slowly and not unkindly—‘‘ that is, if I understand what 78 say aright.” ‘‘ All I want to know is wot you want me to foller him for, that’s all.” ‘*But that hasn’t anything to do with it; you are paid to do the service, and it is nates to you why I wish the service performed.” " = ah yes, it is, ma’am!” with a shake of the ead. ** How can it be?” **Mebbe you want to find out about the doc him a lick somehow.” ‘* Do him a mischief, eh?” ** Yes, ma’am.” ‘* Well, suppose that is the truth, what of it?” yt | guess hen, you will have to gst some other boy ; I don’t keer for the job.” * Why—why can’t you do it?” “Cos I don’t think it would be right for me to gO back on the doc. He’s a real square man ma’am. I come arter him last night to atten to a poor sick woman who was a-dying, and she didn't have any money, either, to pay doctors, and I didn’t have any, too, and { didn’t thiuk it was right to fool the doc, soI up and told him what kind of a lay-outit was, but it didn’t bluff him off a bit. No, ma’am; he came rightalong down to our miserable old court—Hell’s Kit chen, ma’am, is what they call it—jest as if he had been going inter the Fifth Avenue Hotel and I was the kid of the PEP RAG He didn’t ask a cent, and, ma’am, I couldn’t go and spy on a white man like that, and mebbe get him into trouble; so take back your dollar; it ain't no good to me, now,” e lady looked at the lad for a moment then she clasped both her hands over his palm, pressing the dollar. ** Keep the money, my boy, for your honesty,” she exclaimed, ‘‘and Heaven grant that this man has not many friends as deyoted to his ser- vice as you are, for if he has, I never shall be able to accomplish my purpose. Go, now; I will not forget you, and, at some future time, I will see if something cannot be done for you.” She opened the carriage-door and Hopper- ass got out, the most astonished boy in New ork, and little —_--_--— CHAPTER XV, THE BIG JUDGE. Tue chief of police.of the great city of New York satin his private office; with him was one of the most prominent of the police judges of the metropolis. The person of the superintendent is so well known that it is not worth while to describe him, but of the ‘‘ Big Judge,” as he was com- monly called, it may be as well to give a briet description, for he is to play quite a prominent part in our narrative, ‘ He was a tall, portly man, really very im- posing-looking, with carefully oiled blonde hair, and a long beard of the same hue; the beard lent an air of dignity to the face, which would have been lacking that quality without the hir- sute appendage. ; As well known as any man in the city was this gentleman, Alexander McQuencher by name, since he was one of the most successful politicians of the day. A judge, yet no lawyer; judge of only a ap lice Re 3 is true, yet, somehow, it seems that the judge who daily disposes of the liberty of his fellow-beings ought to be as well informed in regard to legal matters as his learned brother who simply decides in regard to dollars and cents, but, as a rule, any politician is thought to be good enouzh for a police justice. To use the anguag of the pave, McQuencher was a “corker” of a judge; small mercy did the unbappy wretch receive who was unfortu- nate enough to be brought before the tribunal over which he presided. The press spoke of him as being severe yet just, and when the solid men of the metropolis—men who had something to lose, and who dreaded the arts of thespoiler, read in the journajsof the day of the rapid way in which the Big #udge dis of the criminals brought before him, they ex- claimed—'‘‘ That is the kind of man to have on the bench; he doesn’t let the rascals escape!” And nomore did he—the smal/ ones, although enemies of the Big Judge, compared his court of justice to a net whose meshes were amply sufficient to hold the little fish, while the big ones easily broke through; but the tongue of slander spares no one; and the higher the posi- tion of the assailed, the more bitter the attack. These insinuations did not ruffle the judge in the least; the community at large ved in and applauded him; his political power was reat, and it was understood that he had ‘feathered his nest” pretty well the past ten years, having enjoyed the pickings of some fine, fat offices. IOOKS Eom (C (E@)