Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 238 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

“ ee lI ls . = ge ae ee —— « el nage ep rms 14 —_—— Then aloud: Hank Hound, the Orescent City Detective. piness, relinquishing her troth to the young man ‘‘ Madam, this has the appearance of being a | entirely.” plain case,” ‘*Of imposture, yes.” ‘No, no, no,” a little frightenedly. ‘‘ There was no imposture intended. But the ehild I found was named Louie, though she insisted fhat I was wrong in saying her name ought to be Edna. She said she could remember a great fire, when she was extremely young, and that | she lay fora long time in a big house contain- ing a number of sick people—which I now see must have been a hospital. But the fright of | that occasion, in her tender youth, and subse- quent illness, I guess, explains why she retained no recollection of her father and mother; only | knew that her name was Louie Crvystol, 1 soon convinced her that ber name was Edna, when I held out the brilliant prospects of becoming an heiress. There were reasonable grounds for my supposing her to be the child sought. Nothing underhanded, I assure you.” ‘*{ do not wish to intimate that there was anything more than an error,” said Mrs. Clyde, mildly. ‘* And you can prove yourself?—prove your child? How?’ **Colonel Crystol’s relatives in Tennessee can not but bear convincing testimony as to who I am. I also have my marriage certificate. church in St, Louis where Edua was christened when a baby must have a record of the christen- ing **Did Colonel Crystol leave any will?” ‘Not that I know of. What good would such a paper do in our circumstances?” “Tsee—yes. Ahem! no use. Well—a—now —umph!” A new and vexing thought seemed to present itself just then, ‘*What do you wish me to do?’ he asked, keenly, after a pause. “Do! Is not your duty plain?” ‘Oh, yes, [know—yes. Abem!” He fidgeted uneasily. He was thinking of the $5,000 really promised by the young girl when she should be duly installed as the heiress. There was still a chance of his getting that sum by withholding the will, and a certainty if, by any means, he could obtain the adoption papers. To drive out the false and install the new claimant would abruptly end the matter. He might whistle for the $5,000. This would not suit him— Oh, foxy Silas Margrip! But Mrs. Clyde had not yet stated the actual object of her visit. Her last speech was intended more to fathom the character of the man—to see if he was one who could likely be induced to enter into a scheme which she had formed. He could not conceal from her steady, pene- trating eyes that there was something obstruct- | The | _“*Bless us! What a hodge-podge this is get- ting to be. Tell me about it.” ** The one who calls herself Edna Crystol has ' declared that she possesses knowledge which | will send Royal Ardway to prison, perhaps exe- cution, for complicity in the violent death of bis father,” ‘“* Ts it possible!” ‘‘ Furthermore, she will use this knowledge unless Isabel absolutely gives up the idea of marrying with Royal.’ ‘Oh, Isee. She herself is in love with the | young man.” ‘*Well, we must, in turn, threaten that if she does as she declares—either bringing lifelong a gon r to my daughter or sacrificing Royal—we wi _from the wealth and its pleasures so recently acquired,” ‘* But stop a moment, madam. Do you mean _ to say that if she will give up ber ambition to win Royal Ardway, and let your daughter alone, she may remain unmolested and in full possession of the inheritance as Edna Crystol?” ** That is exactly my meaning.” “You are a singular woman.” **'Why do you say so?” ** Allowing a vast fortune to slip away from your daughter—” ‘*T value my daughter’s happiness of heart far | more than moneyed wealth. Besides, if she | becomes the wife of the man she loves, she will _not be a beggar, and Royal’s inheritance as her | husband is preferable to tbe simple bounty—or charity, I might say—dispensed by Girard Ard- way. ‘* And you want me to attack the soi-disant | heiress in her citadel?” | ‘* That is my desire,” Margrip gave his knee a rousing slap. ‘Very well. I understand the whole thing. No need to say any more. It is now too late to ' call upon her—almost dark, you see; I will visit | 'her in the morning. Ob! Tl work it all right | for you, madam, Aha!”—rubbing his eely- | fingered hands over and over—“‘ it’s a good nut. | A sweet kernel in the nut for me. Good—yes. Aa object shall be attained; depend upon that. Mrs. Clyde arose and withdrew, saying that she would call in the afternoon of the next day to hear his report. So elated was he by the game now playing itself into his hands, that he so much as forgot to ask Mrs. Clyde for her address. It was ten o'clock Pp. M. when Silas Margrip went to bed—or rather, retired into the shape of a cramped wor.1 upon the old, worn Jounge in one corner. ing his immediate declaration to promptly have remedied the mistake regarding the heiress. And this was exactly what she had hoped for. ‘“ Madam,” said the crafty miser, ‘‘1 would like to ask a question.” ‘* You may do so,” ‘‘What special motive is under this? I mean —ahem!—why, after hiding yourself for so_ long, and when you knew Mr, Ardway was. looking for your child to give ber a magnificent inheritance, have you only lately made up your mind that the young lady now in possession must be ousted—ousted is the word, pour cou- per court.” **T have not yet said I desired it.” ** But you mean it.” ** We will see whether I do or not. ‘bring that Bible I see on your desk.” ‘““Eh! The Bible!” Considerably mystified, he brought the book. ‘‘T have a dangerous revelation tomake. Be- fore dong so, I must have your promise on oath that you will never muke use of or reveal anything in connection with this interview.” “But, madam, what in the world—” “ Will you oblige me?” Overcome by curiosity Silas mumbled a very abort but explicit oath of secrecy. ‘‘Now, Mr. Margrip, I may say that I do not articularly seek the removal of the girl from er position as Girard Ardway’s ward and heir- ess.’ ‘* The dogs you don’t!” He stood before her, book in hand, more mys- tified than ever. CHAPTER XVIII. A TRIO OF OWLS. , ‘“‘Mapam, I can’t make out what all this means,” Margrip said, bluntly. *“T told you I had a revelation to—” “Yes, Let me hear it.” “*-You must bear in mind that you are under oath.” ** Well aware of it. Goon!” “By a fly coincidence, Mr. Royal Ard- way loves my daughter, not knowing who she is in reality. He only became acquainted with her as Isabel Clyde the music-teacher.” sc Ob {” ‘They are engaged to be married.” cc Ab! } Please ‘¢ But there has arisen an influence, 2 terrible and merciless influence to bear upon Isabel, tending to force her to give up her hopes of hap- | prospect of com | the $5,000 which His miserly brain was brimming with a golden lling the heiress to hand out ad, at least, been a plain bar- gain. ‘‘T have her in a corner!” he muttered san- guinely. ‘‘ Oh, yes, my dear young lady; you deem yourself safe; you defy Silas Margrip, now that you are an acknowledged heiress. Ha, ha! but it won’t do. Ha, ha! it’s of no use. Perdito tua ex te!” and with this upon his ies lips, he dropped off into sound slum- er, To have a rude and Se wakening. The hour was nearing midnight, when the lawyer was startled abruptly from his sleep by the grasp of no gentle hand. Like a vise closed several gripes upon him. ShoulJers and legs were pressed and held down immovably on the lounge, as if under the strength of a giant with many clutches. One ecry—one only—he was able to utter, with the first thrilling thought that he was about to be killed by an assassin in the dark. Then a gag was roughly thrust into his mouth. : Stout cords were wound tightly around his body and the lounge, until he was wrapped se- curely as a chrysalis in its womb. After this operation, a match snapped and crackled. lie ag lamp on the desk was presently lighted. And then the gaze of the gagged and helpless lawyer rested on a strange tableau. There were three tall figures in the apartment, their shapes hidden by long gowns of black reaching from neck to heel, with black arm- sleeves terminating in black-gloved hands, The backs ef their heads were peruked in a somber, baggy stuff, and their faces— Their faces were thoss of a booby-owl, immo- bile, staring, and the wide eyes having bebind them other eyes, winking, flashing, very unlike the orbs of the bird they masqueraded. Three human Owls they were, ominously rim. ‘‘ Well, Cap, reckon he’s fixed solid,” remark- ed a coarse voice behind a mask. ; “Yes, Now take pattern by me,” gruffly said another Owl; ‘‘and any plunder you may find you may keep. But do not forget what 1 am particularly after.” 3 With this, the last speaking Ow] began prying open the desk with an iron instrument. The two companion Owls devoted themselves to Margrip’s larder-closet and an old chest that a rag her down summarily and cast her out | _— ne stood against the wall, rammaging with a pro- miscuous disorder. The Owl at tie desk presently uttered a low exclamation. “Ab! Lbaveit. Easy found.” A legal-looking document was tucked away | beneath the gown. ‘‘Tbhere’s some money, Cap. Thbat’s ourn, ain’t it?” ‘* Yes; take it.” There was a smal] roll of bills in the desk, and it was grabbed forthwith. ‘*’You’ve got what you want, you say, Cap?” “Yes. I expected we'd have to torture it out of him; but here it lay convenient at first search. Lucky for him, too; I’d have put a | pair of pincers on each of his ears and pulled | two ways, but what l’d have made him give up the ae I wanted.” ** Hadn’t we better be clearin’ out then?” *“Yes. How much money was in that pile?” ** Couple o’ hundred.” | “Then you are not so badly paid for this trouble,” ** Oh, I ain’t a-mournin’—are we Sa—” “Hush!” came the imperative warning, ‘‘ No names, you fool,” The chief Owl approached their prisoner, say- ing, harsbly: ‘“We haven’t any need to kill you, old law- slinger, though that little circumstance might heve bappened if we had not met with luck at the very first. As we’ve got what we came for particularly, we'll do you the favor to leave you so that you can get out of this fix,” The bonds were slightly loosened in a way that would enable Silas Margrip, at the cost of some difficulty and a few minutes of time, to release Limself. The next instant, the three Owls glided, rust- ling, out at the door. Margrip thought he heard a dull rumbling of wheels in the distance, The whole mysterious occurrence did not con- sume more than ten minutes, and ten minutes later the lawyer was freed of the ropes and gag. He ran to the door and flung it wide, as if his impulse was to pursue the owlish and bold de- predators. At the moment a young man was passing, going hurriedly. ‘* Hey—you!” * Well, sir?” ‘Have you seen anything of three men com- ing out of here?” ‘* No, sir, I have not.” ‘‘Step bere a minute, please.” The pedestrian approached. The dim light from the lamp revealed the features of Trim Tasker. ‘‘ What is the matter, sir?” Trim asked; ob- serving the other’s trembling excitement. ‘‘Matter! Look at this, will you!” Margrip exclaimed, waving a hand around his diso:cer- ed cffice. ‘‘I have been robbed, sir—robbed. It happened not ten minutes ago. Which way are vou going?” ** Right down to the office.” ** 'W hat office?’ * Picayune.” “Ha! Are you connected with that paper?” *T am a reporter,” ‘“You are the very man, then. Write this up. Let the citizens be warned. My name is Silas Margrip. Stop on your way and notify them at the station that the city is infested by a gang of owls—human owls, sir—robbers and cut-throats!” He proceeded to give an exciting account of what had transpired. Within a minute Trim had it all down, in brief, on his tablets. Leaving Margrip examining, in fury and anxiety, to see to what extent he had been robbed, Trim started away on a balf-run. He had very little time left in which to straighten out and hand in bis memoranda, be- sides notifying the police of the robbery, as he had promised the lawyer he would do, It lacked but fifteen minutes to twelve o’clock, midnight—the hour of bis engagement with the famous detective, ‘The Hound!” CHAPTER XIX. SNATCHED FROM THE GRAVE, Ir was the morning bour cf night, Along the lone stretch, amid the uncertain gloom of the Metarie Road, a cab was proceed- ing briskly. A short distance from the Half-Way House it had paused, and a singular operation was per- formed by its occupants. Coarse blanket strips were wound and securely bound around and under the horses’ iron-shod hoofs; similar wrappings were placed in heavy swathes around the wheel-tires. When again the cab moved onward in the di- rection of the river, ncn eg a creak of running- gear betrayed its presence in the semi-darkness; and the driver on his box looked like some being of the specter world speeding his team of phan- tom steeds before a somber chariot, Once again there was a pause beforea lot that had no fencing, but was inclosed by a line of scrubby, prickly hedge. Two men alighted. (El) micbooks.co