Beadle's Dime Library No. 260: The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

. ‘ “ez oo ce 26 . talk just like a foamin’ tea- kettle. on, an’ Vil show you the way.” Christopher Crewly, LL.D, not over-pleased b with her comparison, straightened himself up ‘ and elevated his nose as he followed after her. The door was hardly closed, when be pushed | it open again, and strode back for bis hat and umbrella, )' ‘*Exeuse me,’ he said. ‘*Can’t leave these behind, you know. Ahem! Good-night.” * Good night,” and be was gone, Wat Blake relieved his sister of ber watch, and she retired, Marian was slumbering sweetly when she entered the room—wandering through the elysian ficlds of dreamland. rr ne ———————— But come CHAPTER XVI. DEAD BROKE. Ws left two villains hors-du-combat. a Gil Bret was first to recover himself, and he gained his feet with a scramble, a slip and a jump. Had it been daylight, we would have seen, that his face was red, his temple blue and swollen, and his actions those of one who could not fully understand his situation. In the same moment, he was calm; he com- . prehended all. 7 He saw a still form dimly outlined on the pavement. Haxon returned to consciousness at that at instant; but he rose slowly. A The two were not long in recognizing each . other. It is said, you can put two thieves to . robbing a house in the dark, and, though neither | may be aware of the other’s presence, their movements will co-operate to an end of mutual ¢*,. benefit. So, in the dark of the street, they knew one another. h he ‘Well, Haxy,” muttered the bruiser, in a mR - slow tone; “ you’re a fine dose, you are!” E4. ‘* What’s the matter, Bret?’ .* **Matter!” he repeated, as if he had not heard aright. ‘‘ Matter! do you say? Well— Pr look ’e here—didn’t you wax me’n the eur Bi 50 just now? Say?” Boe **T struck some one—” . Yes; an’ it was me !” growled Bret. A *“T couldn’t see who I hit,” said Haxon, _- apologetically, while he rubbed his head with ba his hand, ¥ The side of his head felt sore, . , Christopher Crewly bad “hit out” twice— once for a hat-demolisher, and ayain for a knock-down. Both blows were well put. - _Bret’s head was not altogether sound, either. _ The punishment he bad received at the hands of his friend had left its wark. nae Crewly’s shout for the police had been heard, and several parties were already crowding the doorway of the restaurant. of The brilliant light from the interior of the room was shed full upon Haxon, and, perceiv- | ss ing him, the two or three men started to cross ~~ the street. es This movement Was observed by Bret, who said, in a burried whisper: Bo **Come on, Haxy; they’re after us.” My hat?’ said Haxon, inquiringly. 3 > It lay near them, and when the ill-used arti- _. ele was recovered, they started off. Rhy ‘‘Who was it shouted for the police?” asked ¥. Bret, as they skulked rapidly along, keeping ip _ elose to the railing. [ nM ‘‘T cannot say.” ‘ When the individuals from the restaurant reached the spot, no one was to be seen, Haxon and Bret also turned down Pratt 7 s 1 --! street. Reaching Broadway, they entered a car, and it was the next one to that in which were the lawyer and Wat Blake. ee You say you don’ know who yelled for th ‘ep the police?” put Bret, when they were seated. ik JT haven’t the slightest idea.” t ah Well, that is queer!” is “I saw some one,” continued Haxon, “ sud- y - denly appear on the scene, and before I could defend myself, something struck me—I think —#un umbrella.” oem “Very queer!” commented Bret. ‘“ It’s mighty sing’lar ’aé such a mess should happen, Vl forgive the lick ’at you gave me, ’cause I _. don’ s’pose you could see how 't was.” . _ What are you thinking about, Bret?” The bruiser seemed unusually thougbtful; his eyes fixing upon the floor of the car during his speech, and his mind, evidently, not wholly with his words. He looked up, and gazed earnestly into his @ompanion’s face, ‘Well, Til tell you, Haxy,”—lowering his = ~ —% os : Bo ial ee ee SCS voice, and glancing suspiciously at. a negress who oceupied the corner seat opposite them— | ‘‘an’ it’s this. I know now, ’at you were | right about Bertha Blake bein’ alive—” “Of course. You might as well have believed mein the first place.” ‘ Wait. More’n that; her brother’s alive, too.” “eé Ah id “ You never saw ’im, but you've heard enough from me to know that he’s a enemy of yours. When 7 used to tell you about ’im, he wasaboy. Now, that ’ere boy’s got to be a man, That ’ere man met me, to-night, at the Gates—hold on now, till I’ve done! He ord’r’d me to give up the paper ’at we've got agin’ Forde. He’s mighty worked up ‘bout our try- in’ to drown his sister, off Locust Point—” ‘‘ But the paper?” interrupted Haxon, un- easily, ‘‘ That’s what we were a-fightin’ about!” ** He has not got it?” ** Of course not—” ‘Fare, gentlemen.” before them, Gil Bret felt for his pucket-book. Harold Haxon saw the rough visage of his companion turn pale as death. ** What’s the matter, Bret?” ** Nothin’ — nothin’” —feeling in another pocket. But search was useless; he had been robbed, Fortunately, be bad a dollar bill put away loose. This he gave to tbe conductor, and his hand trembled as he banded it over. While waiting for his change, Haxon marked an expression truly fearful in his bull-dog count. bance, When the conductor had departed, Bret turned to Haxon and whispered, hoarsely: ** Robbed—by thunder!’ ** But the paper is safe?’ quickly. ‘Tt was in my _ pocket-book, gon>!” ‘** Ha! Gil Bret—” “°Tain’t the worst! All my money’s gone too! We're dead broke !” For one second, Haxon looked at him in dismay. Then a groan fell from bis lips. “‘ Shut up!” hissed the bruiser, grasping his The conductor stood They’re arm, ‘Don’t say anythin’ more.” They left the car at Baltimore street bridge. “Gil Bret,’’ said Haxon, as they stood looking over the rail, down into that histori- ca) murk of filth and mud, ‘‘do you mean, seriously, that you have lost that valuable paper?” ‘‘ Been robbed!” was the brief rejoinder, spoken absently. Under the circumstances, Haxon wondered that his companion could maintain such com- posure, ‘* Robbed!” he repeated. ‘“‘ By whom?’ *‘ Didn’ I tell you? Wat Blake—curse ’im!” ‘‘ Then, what are we to do? Why, man, you don’t seem to realize our loss.” ‘“‘ Yes I do, too!” declared Bret, in a brief, blunt, snappish tone, “Then rouse up. Don’t stand there dream- in Sle FP ‘ What’s the use? We're sunk!” ** Can't we get the paper back?” *¢ Get—thunder!” ** And no money left, either!” ‘* On’y this ’ere dollar ’at I bu’st on the car —bark!” An alarm of fire was sounding. Bells tolled in discordant echocs, and here and there a faint cry arose upon the air, Presently, steamer No, 5 came thundering along—its smoke-stack spitting flame, its driver yelling, and a wake of glowing embers mark- ing its beadlong course, “ Hallo! Where’s the fire?” shouted Bret, to a fireman, who seemed rather to whiz than run past them. An answer was growled back, and the words seemed to please Bret. “See, Haxy, it’s just round the corner! Come on—let’s go.” The fire was quite near. A bright glare suddenly lit up the heavens, but diea out al- most in the same moment. As they turned a corner and joined the crowd tbat ran, jostled, swore, panted and howled, Haxon felt his arm grasped. ‘“ Hold on,” said the bruiser, in a low tone. “* Come in here,” In the Japse of a second, they stood in @ narrow alley that was dark, silent, graye- like. , Se ee a 7 Ss Phe Masked Mystery. ‘¢ What's up, Bret?” “You ain't asked me anythin’ ’bout that’era Burns chap—” ‘‘ No! what—” ‘¢ He’s in here.” ‘Where?’ ‘“Come on, an’ Til show you. now.” Haxon heard the other moving away, aud he followed—groping along the damp brick wall, They reached a gate. It was unfastened. A few seconds more, and they were at the kitchen window. With a little difficulty, this was forced open, and the interier of the house was gained. “Sb! Careful, now,” admonished Brei, whisperingly. ‘‘ Burns is in this house. I tracked him after you left me on the bridge, Bertha Blake’s here, tco, I reckon, an’ her brother. We’re right in the nest of ’em. Easy —take care—we can’t afford to kick up a rum- pus yet. Im after a bag ’at’s got five thousan’ dollars in it!” And this was why Bret had been so quiet, He was planning to better tbeir situation. His brain had summed up: Wherever the woman in black was, would, also, be the bag of money; where she was, would, also, be Wat Blake; Blake must bave the paper; and these parties must be where he knew Austin Burns to be; for he had no doubt, after what Haxon told bim at Wilson’s restaurant—having since been convinced of his companion’s veracity— that Bertha Blake had the young man in ber care, The hour was growing late. If they had retired, he might make a bold dash, and secure both the money and the paper. It was worth trial; and Bret was no novice in the art of burglary. The crowd running to the fire served him. Neither he nor Haxon were observed when they slipped into the alley. * Are you sure Burns is here?” inquired Haxon, in a guarded voice. ** Yes, But don’t you think ’bout Aim till I tell you. Money first.” With the stealth of cats, they made their way to the parlor—paused—listened, Not a sound, “They're in bed. Got a match?” Haxon produced a match, and by its tiny flame they saw that the room was empty. Stepping cautiously, they ascended to the second story. All was still there. The several doors on the Janaing were open. Bret’s suspicions were aroused, ** Light another match, Haxy.” When the match was ignited, they cast a hurried glance into each room, All were deserted—empty—silent, ‘* Fooled, by thunder! They’re gone!” ‘* Gone!” echoed Haxon. That Bret was disappointed, we may safely infer, for he supplemented his first exclamation with an oath so deep, harsh, terrible, as to make even Harold Haxon shiver, But he betrayed uo further chagrin, and silently retraced bis steps, ny Where do you suppose they’ve gone to?” ‘< Makes no di fference,” returned Bret, sur- lily; “it’s enough for me ‘at they’re gon .” + Then we are no better off than we were an— 7 “You wait.” Bret wanted money. Their situation was startling. Bayview, with its cupola, and broad grounds; its solitude in the midst of winter barrenness; this loomed up in the vision of his imagination, and be was, really, not so easy in his mind as he had forced himself to appear a short time previous, ‘Money must be procured in some way. With true burglar instinct, he sought the pantry. Here he met with another disappointment. Not a fork, spoon, or even a napkin-ring rewarded his clcse search. Muttering another curse of direful frame, he turned his attention to the parlor. There was nothing of value, except the heavy, unavailable furniture. “ Woll, this ere is a fine go!” be growled, in a half-savage mood. “Nary a cent, nor silver. All our trouble for nothin’-— Ha! what’s that?” | There was a faint noise in the direction of the kitchen—a step, 4 rustle, a faint some- thing—and, with the fear of guilt, they held Softly, their breath and listened for a repetition of the sound, sth ae Ap Be th Oe