Beadle's Dime Library No. 260: The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent — page 19: what you’re looking at

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

‘‘He is good, Ora; his sins against these wretches is in loving Eola—your sister. Louise Ternor’s son, Harold, is determined to wed Eola. Harold Ternor—or Harold Haxon, as he is known—has constantly by his side this Gilson Bret, son of the pseudo fortune-teller, and the two are hard to deal with. We will soon bring about their overthrow, though, as their chief support is soon to—but, never mind; I have told you enough.” “But father?” questioned the fair girl, re- turning to ber former inquiry. “Wait, my child; wait.” ‘‘ But you will promise? . Oh! dear mother, please give me your promise,” ‘“‘T can promise nothing—at present,” said Bertha, with an effort; and just the slightest twinge of pain shot through Ora’s heart at this refusal, Further conversation was stayed by a light rap at the door. Mrs. Lenner entered, her pleasant face wrinkled in smiles, At sight of her, Crewly removed to a seat further from the door. “Now there!” she exclaimed, looking from one to another; “here you be, all fixed as if you weren’t never a-going to budge outen this room, An’ the poor young man awake, too! Why, he says he feels first rate, only kind of lonesome like, an’ he wants to know where he is, an’ where you are, an’ all that, while you’re holding council an’ forget all about him. Now, do come right 1n an’ see him this minute,” They repaired to Austin’s bedside. Christopher Crewly brought up the rear, to avoid contact with Mrs. Lenner, who led the way. He had not forgotten her remark about the tea-kettle, and entertained, in consequence, no very high opinion of her intellectual cul- ture. The first utterance that escaped the young man’s lips, upon their entrance, Was an ex- clamation of surprise, and half-involuntarily he held out his hand to Ora. In his rather confused state of mind, Ora’s resemblance to Eola was so great as to com- pletely deceive him. ‘‘Eola, come to me,” “Tt is not Eola, Austin,” said Bertha, smoothing back the glossy locks from his high, pale forehead. ‘““Not Eola? trifling with me.” Ora drew nigher, and tenderly took the out- stretched band. ‘It is Eola’s sister—my child,” partially ex- plained Bertha; and she added: “but, you are not strong enough to hear all I bave to tell you, I see you are bewildered. Wait until your ugly wound is well,” But Austin Burns was destined to consider- able activity long before the healing of bis wound. In what way? We shall see. All were introduced to the young man, and nearly an hour slipped pleasantly by; he being prevailed upon to ask no questions. Crewly occupied a seat in one corner, where he was careful to keep Wat Blake between himself and Mrs. Lenner; and over Blake’s shoulder be glowered, with ferocious gravity, upon that lady. At the expiration of the time mentioned, Doctor Cauley joined them. “Um! Young man’s doing well—very well,” be said, feeling Austin’s pulse and frowning upon Christopher Crewly, who ogled contemptuously at the physician’s proceeding, “Keep him down, “Small diet; jelly, fresh air; chicken; no wine; retain bis horizontal and he’ll soon be upright. Um!—well, sir?” the last to Crewly, who nearly upset bis chair, in leaning forward to hear what the other said, “ Ahem!” — recovering his equilibrium — ‘pardon, Did I interrupt you?” © INO) Air.” “Ts he well yet? That is—is—” ‘* No, sir; he’s sick.” “Certainly. I thought so. well?” “Yes, sir—well,” short and sharp. “Family w—that is—is—” “ Are you troubled with the colic, sir?” “Colic, sir!”—squirming in his seat— no, sir! Me—hang it!—this chair—I—that is—” Crewly was embarrassed; and worse, he thought be saw Mrs. Lenner laughing at him. “‘Does this belong to anybody in here?” A servant girl stood in the doorway, holding up Crewly’s white umbrella. The chair flew from under him; he reached the door at a bound, crying: Who then? No—you are You—a—you “Don’t open it—don’t!” ‘One of the boarders was going out with it,” explained the girl, and then departed. Crewly slyly glanced inside the umbrella, Then he groaned. Something was missing. But he could not inquire after the lost article —oh, no! Doctor Cauley soon withdrew, Wat Blake, after a few seconds’ conversation with his sister, started to leave the room, beck- oning Crewly to follow. ‘‘ Where?” interrogated the lawyer, when they were upon the street. ‘*T> Harnden Forde’s.” ‘‘Deuce! Ahem! What for?’ ‘‘ Dear little Ora has prevailed upon sister to call and see Forde, and ask him, once more, for the crescent and the marriage-certificate.” **No use,” commented Crewly, with a sniffle. We will try,” quietly. ‘But what are you going there for, eh? What do you want me to go for, eh?” ‘‘ Bertha will come this afternoon. We are to be there as witnesses to the interview, She is also going to have him give a stronger pledge that Eola shall be the wife of Austin Burns. He has already promised in writing.” **But the Fortune Teller’s letter? the fab- ricated prophecy , eh?’ ‘“We hope to convince him of his foolish and useless superstition. If he refuses to ac. cede, then, his dishonor be of his own making. And I shall secure the articles after all.” “Shall? How?” “T am confident that I know where they are,”’ ‘“‘But I say,” whined Crewly, ‘I’m hun- gry. They were just going to dinner when we came away. Rather mean in you—” ‘You can get something before we go to Forde’s.” *‘ Guy's!” exclaimed the lawyer, as they en- tered a car. “Too far, Mr. Crewly.” “Ob, pooh! No difference; half a dozen hours ahead, you know, Besides, where can we be served like they serve at Guy’s? To Guy’s. I’m wolfish, Ever feel hungry, Wat Blake?’ Reaching their destination, Crewly darted down the steps to the restaurant, to satiate the cravings of the inner inan. Blake was not hungry, and awaited the lawyer on the corner. CHAPTER XIX. A BRUISER’S WAY. THE sound which startled Bret and Haxon as they stood within the deserted house, slow- ly drew nigher. Step by step—light-footed, scarce audible its movements, the somethicg approached. ** Look!” whispered Haxon, with a slight tremor; ‘* the house is haunted.” ‘* Bah!” exclaimed his companion; “ haunt- ed—tbunder! Thought you didn’t b’lieve in spooks?” , ‘“« See?” was the rejoinder. Two flaming eyes appeared in the doorway —eyes that were red, yellow and green at the same time. The bruiser drew a long sigh, then grunted, then laughed gutturally. Haxon also felt cheap. ‘* Pscat!” There was a spit, a scramble, a jump, a sound of pattering feet, and the object van- ished. “On’y a cat!” growled Bret; skeered you half to death.”’ Haxon could not deny that he felt uneasy during the few moments of their suspense; for entering a house with burglarious intentions was to him new, novel, and fraught with un- pleasant sensations. “‘Come on,” added the bruiser, moving to- ward the kitchen. ‘‘ Let’s get out. There’s nothin’ here f’r us.” When they reached the street Haxon in- quired, as they hurried away: ‘* What is to be done now, Gil Bret?” ‘* Get some stamps,” was the illucid reply. “Yes; but how?” “ Tiger !” he said briefly. “Tiger!” echoed Haxon. we've got no money !” “an? it ‘Why, man, “Treckon, Got eighty-eight cents, We'll build on that ere,” “Build! Certainly you won’t go to S——r’s with such an amount? That’s not enough for one stake!” “You just come on now. J’m a-doin’ this.” 2% ‘The Masked Mystery. 19 Gil Bret had no intention of entering a first- class saloon with only eighty-eight cents to buy chips—especially S——r’s, where it was considered rather disgraceful to rustle less than a five-dollar bill, Winding and turning through innumerable dark thoroughfares, he finally halted before a house on East street—a locality gloomy enough for the abode of a sorceress, to say nothing of its adaptabilities for a ‘sweat room.” In this establishment Bret feit at home with his small “ pile”; and while he kept the game, Haxon did the betting. The first deal over, Bret grew uneasy. Luck had cheated him, Only four chips left.. ‘Careful, Haxy,” he said in an undertone, Haxon had ventured three of the four chips, covered, ‘* Good!” he exclaimed almost immediately, The cards began to run favorably. The four chips increased to a dozen. Before long their eighty-eight cents had become three dollars, **Come on,” said the bruiser, throwing down his pencil, and getting his chips cashed, They turned to leave the room. Here was demonstrated one of the follies of entering a third-rate saloon. Two roughs, whose money had been trans- ferred, first to the bank, and then to the pockets of Bret and Haxon, stood before the door and, with glum countenances, barred their exit, : As they attempted to pass, one of these stretched forth his arm, The action surprised Bret, then angered. him. For a second he contemplated the other, as if undecided whether to knock him down or bandy words, Smothering somewhat of his choler, and clinching his fist with a determined coolness, he stepped up to him, ‘‘No fighting bere, gentlemen!” cried the- man in charge, who saw that a row was immi- nent, But his words came too late, A few hasty words were exchanged, fol- lowed by a curse, a defiance, a shaking of fists, and— ‘*Thud! Bump!” A head struck the door-Jamb, and its owner with a howl sunk down. ** Look out!” screamed a voice, Chairs swung in the air; a decanter whizzed close to Haxon’s ear. But the bruiser knew his place, The second rough followed his companion ‘“ to grass,” Bang! went a pistol. A ball shattered the lamp, and darkness prevailed. There was a rush for the door, and every one hit whoever he could. “ Well out of it!” exclaimed Bret, when he — and Haxon bad made their escape; and as they reached and turned down Baltimore street, he added: ** Now, then, for a room !” A quiet, retired boarding-house was searched out, and the two were soon comfortably bed- ded, ‘Just ’nough left to get breakfast in the oe b] Ly ~ ae: “ 4\ * “ Dae » ‘i 4 i & "a : »* « y 5 Ot tN ‘ ~~ = SS Var we mornin’,” grunted the bruiser; and with this he rolled over, and soon began to snore. Haxon did not sleep much, His mind was. full of their situation. With all bis villainous composition of action and brain, he lacked the cool, caicula- tive principles of life which characterized bis rougher but more solidly molded associates . | and tossing restlessly, his thoughts fed by im- aginary difficulties, he slumbered in fits—oft- times starting wide awake, and endeavorin — speech, ; si . * 7 ~ a th a? ‘— Ld 4 ¥. 4 ee yi 4 * ~ ‘ to pierce the surrounding black for some ob- jeet upon which to rest his unnerved eyes, At last he dozed off, dreaming of his hola upou Forde, his triumph over Eola, and the — $500 he promised himself on the morrow, The two were not astir until after ten o’clock next morning. ‘What can have become of Austin Burns is a puzzle to me,” mused Haxon half aloud, and it would seem that Bret was beginning to won- der, also, how the young man could baye so completely eluded their vigilance, for he said: \) ie —- ai - on * 6 >. jad ite io? Sp * fi ee. *“ An’ me, too, Haxy; durned if I ain't bo- i thered some!” By chance their footsteps tended in the di- rection of Guy’s. ee They were quite near the corner o ‘te the restaurant, when Bret halted ab ape ral grasped his companion’s arm, , ‘com (C gs) » - 80) — 4 com 7a