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Pulp Fiction, 1881 · page 15 of 28

Beadle's Dime Library No. 146 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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Beadle's Dime Library No. 146 — page 15: Pulp Fiction, 1881

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The note was brief, and read as follows: ‘“*My Dear Mrs. ConvERTO N: **T shall be umes to remain away from home for some time, to attend to important business, and I The lanation relieved the boy’s mind just e as it had the housekeeper, and the oak of on which had dwelt upon his face 7, & ever since he entered the room gradually van- cannot now exactly say when Lwill be able to re- | ished. turn. The bearer of this, a distant relative, Mr. Marvin Clarke, will represent me in my a ce; he will occupy my room, attend to all my affairs, which he thoroughly understands, and you will take orders from him exactly as you would from my- self.”’ And then, at the bottom,.a ‘the bold, plain signature of ‘‘ Alcenor Diamond.” The housekeeper was well acquainted with the doctor's handwriting, and she knew at ence that no other hand but his could have penned the letter. The mystery of the voice, race and figure was at once expla e stranger was a relative of the doctor, and there was a strong family likeness between the two, although when she had been puzzled by the man’s likeness to some one whom she had seen before, she had never thought of her master. ** Oh, sir, you don’t know what a weight you have taken off my mind!” she exclaimed, in honest thankfulness. ‘‘The doctor’s absence has alarmed me dreadfully and 1 had made up my mind that if he did not return to-morrow would go to the police-office and give the au- thorities warning about the affair. ‘* You have no cause to oe alarmed; the doc- tor is perfectly safe and well.” The note had really taken a great load off the mind of the woman, for she was sincerely at- tached to the physician, who was one of the kindest of masters, and so for the ‘stranger, as the representative of the doctor, she could not do enough. After Mr, Clarke was comfortably seated in the reception-room, the housekeeper proceeded to relate about the visits of the ragged little boy. ** He must have had some object in coming so persistently,” the gentleman suggested, “1 will see bim the next time he comes, ‘‘There he is on the ~ now!’ exclaimed Mrs. Converton. She was by the window and happened to glance into the street, where she saw the boy slowly sauntering along, casting very wishful glances at the house. ‘*Cali him in, please.” ‘The housekeeper hastened to comply with the uest. Here, little boy!” she cried. Hoppergrass, for it was our little hero in rags, at once adva rly. “Has the doctor come?’ he asked, as he mounted the oa e prolonged absence of the «gag had been a source of great won- der im. ‘‘Not yet, but here is a gentleman who has come directly from him who would like to see ou,” The boy rather hesitated. ‘* W hat does ne want with me?” he asked, sus- piciousiy, half inclined to retreat. “The doctor may have intrusted him with a messege for you.” The housekeeper did not realiy believe that this was so; it was only a burmiess fiction on her part to induce the boy tv enter the house. ‘‘itabbe he did,” observed Hoppergrass, doubafully. ‘* WU) you come in, then?” ‘“ Yea, ma’am, I s’pose so,” and with consider- able relwetance the gamin followed the house- \eeper into the parlor. ‘This is the boy who has been inquiring for \.e doctor,” Mrs. Converton said, introducing am. Mr. Clarke sat right in front of the fireplace +o that the full light of the gas shone upon his Jace, and Hoppergrass, who had come sheep- sshly into the room, twisting his ragged apology for a cap between his wey She looked decidedly astonished when his eyes fell upon the face of the gentleman. Like the woman the impression at once came to him that he had seen the gen- tleman before, but for the life of him he couldn’t tell whether it was so or not. ‘Do not let me detain you, madam, if you have any household duties to take up your time.’ The housekeeper, a woman of sense, im- ni diately understood that Mr. Clarke wished t» be wlone with the boy. . ‘‘ If you wish for me, sir, all you have to do is to touch the bell,” she said, sagen. to the c.]]-bell upon the table; then she retired, clos- ing the door carefully behind her. ‘Sit down, my lad,” Mr. Clark requested, «inting toe chair, upon the edge of which the vy immediately proceeded to perch. The lady \. u0 bas just left us tells me that you have been here three or four times to see the doctor,” ‘* Yes, sir, ten or a dozen times.” ‘«The doctor is engaged u important busi- ness and the chances are that you will not be able to see him for some time—a month or more perhaps. He hassent me here, to attend to ait binhualenent lam a distant relative and well informed in regard to all his aff so if you wil] tell me your business, cues may be able to attend to it as well as the doctor in person.” r . } ' He could not remember that he had ever met this man before, and yet his face and voice were familiar; he could not understand this mystery, and anything that he could not under- stand terrified him. But now it was all plain to him; the gentleman was a relative of the doctor and looked like him, and from the way in which the stranger spoke, Hoppergrass be- came inspired with confidence. ‘“*I dunno, sir, as ve got much to say. Meb- be the doctor wouldn’t have keered much to hear it,” the boy remarked, slowly. ‘* Let me hear what it is and I will be able to tell you in regard to that.” ‘** Well, sir, it was bout the gal whose mother died down in our court,” ** Dura Eldon?’ ‘Yes, sir,” and the boy opened his eyes at the promptness with which the stranger under- stood his meaning. “Il know; Mrs. Eldon died; the doctor was called in to attend to her, but it was too late.” ‘Yes, sir; well, next morning, sir, bright and early almost before anybody was up, the young gal, sir, went away.” ‘Leaving her dead mother behind?” ‘Oh no, sir; a hearse came and captured the old woman, and a carriage with a reg’lar blood in it—so one of the neighbors said—came for the gal; and she left ten dollars behind, sir, for me, and she said in the letter that I was to pay the ore and keep the rest of the money for myself. f Have you the letter?’ asked Mr. Clarke, evidently not exactly understanding what to make of the boy’s statement, ‘Yes, sir; here it is,” and the lad produced the letter from the capacious pocket of his tat- tered coat. The gentleman read the missive carefully; while the keen-eved mers Wine was watching as a cat watches a mouse, cied that a faint sigh esca from the man’s lips as he finished the brief note. ‘‘Here’s the money, sir,” observed the boy, producing the bill from a secret hiding-place which he had cunningly contrived in the lining of his coat. ‘ ‘‘Keep the money, my boy; the doctor does not ireany fee. You have some safe place to put t?”’ ny Yes, sir, in vow? Five-cent Bank!” replied 0 ore proudly. te am glad of that; the doctor has thought of you and has determined to aid you if it is within his power, and if you will call here to- morrow afternoon we will have a talk together and Pg shall tell me what I can do for you.” ‘**Oh, thank you, sir!” the lad exclaimed, his heart full to overflowing at this unexpected piece of good fortune, and then, with rare good sense for one so little tutored in the ways of the world, he comprehended that the interview was over and withdrew. After the departure of the gamin, the house- keeper returned and conducted Mr. Clarke to the doctor’s pong Borer neg he having in- formed her it was the doctor’s wish he should occupy that room until the master’s return. Diamond’s shatatng codeiet was a large rear room on the second floor. It was bedroom and library combined, and the doctor’s sanctum, where he kept his tools and professional rub- bish, was a small room right in the rear of the other apartment. After the housekeeper had left the room Mr. Clarke sat down by the side of the bed and ove himself up to intense thought for quite a e. The first movement in the attack upon the White Band had been made, and by this time it was probable the detectives were on the scent, unless—and the supposition seemed ab- wddnight chief . ey in | e with the midn marauders, but the fume that came from his handkerchief bothered the informer considerably. At last he retired to rest, but it was some time before he fell asleep, and then his dreams were troubled and disturbed. The dreaded de- mon of darkness, the horrid nightmare, was rampant. Suddenly, with a great start, the sleeper awoke, bathed in perspiration, and glared around him. There was some foundation for the ne se for terrible white-robed figures were clus about the bed. CHAPTER XX, A DESPERATE DEED, Upon retiring to rest the stranger had not extinguished the gaslight but had merel turned it down, but, dim as was tue flame it ve ample light to distinguish all objects in he room. His sudden awakening was a surprise to the i men and it interfered materially with their plans, for they had but just entered the room when, with a start, Clarke awoke and sat bolt upright upon the couch. — Se St tS rn 210 ae. .sx—.\-=Q(¥X eG a rg 15 TRG oe padpey Praha all pied aS at isto of rs) and as the sleeper arose toa sition, with a common a they plucked from their breasts ugly knives that gli ominously in the dim light; but not not one of the band displayed a firearm; pistols were too noisy for these gentlemen who worked in the silence of the night. Steadfastly for a moment the maske: ruffians and the man, upon whose privacy they had in- truded, looked upon each other, and it was a difficult thing to decide which was the most dis- OE eek | d and di th ‘is a single word and you die upon the instant!” cried one of the disguised men, evi- dently the leader of the party, in a voice that. the other recognized only too well, and in order to give due effect to the threat he brandished his knife in the air. ‘“ Who are you and what do you want?” ‘* You know who we are well enough, and we know who you are, although you have ourself in a very clever manner in to ke upon your hands the difficult task of hunt ing usdown. You did succeedin reaching the chief of police without your disguise being penetrated, but the moment you made known to him what your errand was you stood re- vealed in your true colors, for only one man possesses the knowledge which you *‘And who may he be?’ ingui Clarke, in the calmest manner possible. ‘** Yourself; Doctor Diamond!” Clarke shook his head, but the disguised chief — him up on the instant. ‘*Oh, it isn’t of any use ar” day to attempt to deny it!” he exclaimed. ‘‘ We ize you in spite of your disguise, although it is a very clever one. We thought that we had given ou your ticket to the other world when we owered you down into the pit, shut up in the —— coffin, but you were evidently born un- er a lucky star for you escaped from the i that no man ever escaped from before. we know how it was done, too. That liquid which you swallowed, and which you pretended was a poison, was only a sleeping potion and it threw you into a trance that seemed like death itself; in fact, so much like death, that even the members of the White Band, who are up to a trick or two in that line, were deceived and all believed you were settled for this world, Then, in order to turn an honest penny, we sold your to a doctor exactly as we told you we would, but our smartness we over- reached ourselves. If we had suffered you to remain in the well-hole no wer on earth could have saved you, but by of your body we put you the hands o the man who the knowl to restore you to life, There is where we made a mis- take, but you, when brought back again to the world, committed a still greater error. Most men after having experienced our power would have been glad to cry quits—would have been content to skulk thro the world in disguise and under an assumed name, but you—mad- man that you are!—you thought that you would brave the power of the White Band; ge panted for vengeance and essayed to hunt us down; you made P icons spring and in the recoil we clutch you. Once again we hold you safely in our power.” ‘You will not believe me, then, if I en- deavor to convince you that I am not the —— for whom you take me?’ the other ‘Oh, we know you, despite the skillful way in which you have m ed to or your- self, and we are aalnat tx ai ou k again and put you inthe golden coffin from whence hoy escaped ; that glittering casket is hungry or ifs prey.’ “You will not take me anywhere,” nded the threatened man, in the coolest man- ner. The members of the band stared at each other the calm courage of the man astounded em. ‘*‘Do you prefer that we should murder you on the spot then?” the leader exclaimed, fero- ciously, and he made a movement asif to spring upon the other. Both of the hands of the man, who had called himself Clarke, were concealed beneath the bed- clothes, but witi the threatening ure of the the marau- outlaw they came quickly up an ders started in alarm, for they thought, as they beheld the motion, that the intended victim was about to flash a pair of revolvers at them, but, on the contrary, all that he held in his hands were two mars | glass balls, hollow appa- rently, and filled with a dark liquid. The chief of the band at once scented danger when he saw these, seemingly, harmless toys. He was sure that the man was Doctor apg and already he had come to the conclusion the doctor was likely to prove a pretty trouble- some customer, And the others were much more alarmed than the chief; tho almost miraculous escape of their victim had uced a great effect upon their gross and brutal natures. It really seemed as if the man was more than m , else he could not have succeeded in the undertaking. «herefore when the little glass balls were pro IOO <S (E@) m (E (E()