Beadle's Dime Library No. 260: The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

; . ‘ '; - 5 Pe ° « fi: La i it * ; 4 ” { ‘Al ,* wie b y ~ wa ~ 4 7 ” A V'- “A « ei. 4 b- . We "Pu a me Sed ‘ae i © ° % ae . th, . ‘s # > Onn ’ ry ye « ¥ aye “ els 4. Me ees + \ » wd - © 2 * ‘ yy, % ¥ f re - . ( o nN # te i? bat @ « a * ; 7 7 Ce eee -mole-bunt, and as useless as a cry over a _ broken pitcher, i do it, or 24 cherished a bitter loathing, and whose clutches they had hoped to escape in going to Washing- ton. Yes, it was Harold Haxom, beyond the shadow of a doubt. He saw them, and Eola fancied there was an expression of devilish triumph in the vil- lain’s face as he looked at them. Forde seemed paralyzed; but Eola, with the quickness of thought, cried to the driver: ‘* Back! back to our house at once! your whip!” Prompt to obey the order, the driver touched his horses with the whip, and the mettled steeds sprung forward, Eola looked around, Harold Haxon had disappeared. Away, away they went—the other vehicles about them seeming to stand still as they dashed past; away with the speed of wind, for she had again told the driver to use his whip. At Four-and.a-half street she turned her head to look back. To her astonishment and horror, Haxon was on the pavement, nearly abreast of them. He had crossed over to the south side, where he could run with more free- dom. A sardonic smile played about the corners of his mouth and he raised his hat in a mock- ing bow, Harnden Forde had not yet said a word, His lips were glued, and he trembled as with an ague, Reaching the Capitol, they whirled around and sped up the north bill. Evla saw her pursuer enter the west gate. His plan was easily divined. He would head them off, ‘* Now is my time!’ she thought, aloud, and in the same breath tbe driver was ordered to turn bis horses down New Jersey avenue, The trick was successful, Harold Haxon, in pursuit of bis prey, was accompanied by Gil Bret. ‘* Come!” cried the former, as they reached the west gate. ‘‘ Through here, and we've git them! Now tremble, Harnden Forde, for Iam on your heels!” ‘‘ Go it, Haxy!” spurted Bret, with dif- ficulty, and they dashed forward along the north gravel-walk, to reach the eminence, But they neglected to watch the movements of the pursued, thinking the game clready in their own hands. When they reached the top of the hill, the barouche, Forde, Eola—all had vanished. Use CHAPTER XXIV. A HARD RACE, A COLLISION AND A FIGHT. CHRISTOPHER CREWLY seemed suddenly possessed of the idea that Harold Haxon stood _in need of a thrashing; mere, that he, Crewly, was the proper person to administer the same; and finally, judging from the abruptness of his movements, be was in a tremendous hurry to set about the task. But, as he made a dash toward the villains, he saw something which caused him to halt, stare, open his mouth in astonishment. The sight was Haroden Forde and Eola— the ones he and the others of his party were seeking. For a moment he looked at them, and not until the barouche had turned around and was whirling away down the avenue, did he arouse from his momentary inaction, As though melted into air, Haxon and Bret 2 d disappeared. He knew that to search for in the crowd would be tiresome anda Ideas appeared to possess his brain in abundance on that day, for another one struck him, The fleeing pair had not yet reached Sixth street. Quick as a flash he recovered his hat, oe and sprung forward in pursuit. Wat Blake, not comprehending the lawyer’s second excitement—for he did not see the barouche and its occupants—stood for a few seconds gazing after his friend. When he turned around he was alone. His party were lost in the surging mass of people. The bent form of an aged woman moved toward the + ce curbstone, and gazed down the street, ‘* Ab?’ she muttered, in a whisper that was shrill despite, its lowness; “ there they go! There’s Harold Ternor and Gil. They’re after the barouche. Ford must have seen them, for he’s going like mad! My old limbs can’t I'd run, too. I'd like to see him— Forde, I'd tell him something that would The Masked Mystery. make him feel better, I would. But I can’t run after him—no, I can’t. Pm afraid I'll die before | can see him. can’t,”’ and with this she mingled with the crowd, On, on went the barouche, and on, on went Crewly—his long legs carrying him over the ground at an amazing rate. His hat was fixed tight on the back of his head, and the white umbrella rattled in his grasp. Not for the smallest particle of a moment were bis pale gray eyes removed from the object of his pursuit; not once did he notice the cries of tantalizing urchins who, thinking him one of the features of amusement for the day, greeted. him as he sped past, with shouts and huzzas. He ran just outside the curbstone, where the stretch was almost a clean one, At Four-and-a-half street, a policeman saw him coming, and extended his arms, shouting: “ Hold on, there! Get back into line—hear?” Crewly frowned; he raised his umbrella, doubled his fist, and cried: “Stand a-s-i-d-e! Knock you down if you get in the road! Take care—ba! Now then! —30!” like a shot, with a Herculean bound, a sidelong leap that seemed to twist him ina ball, he evaded the officer and continued on, on like a race-horse. . The act was applauded with a faint cheer, On any other oceasion, he would have had the impudence to stop. bow, anil compliment the policeman on his efficiency. But now he was deaf, At Second street, a boy who saw him com- ing, immediately set his brain to work fora plan to get up a laugh. When Crewly drew near, there was a recep- tion ready for him. His eyes were riveted upon the fleeing barouche, his whole attention engrossed with the pursuit; he saw nothing, heard notbing. Suddenly something dark was hurled out beyond the curb, and tangled itself between Crewly’s legs. The lawyer stumbled, kicked vigorously; there was an unearthly howl, a snarl, a snap, a whine of agony, anda fright- ened terrier, with ribs aching, started full rua up the avenue—his fright and speed aug- mented by a shower of stones and loud cries. “ Hang it!’ muttered he, not delayed even by this occurrence; “hope that boy ‘ll get his nose cracked before he goes home to-night!” On, still on went the barouche, and likea hound on the scent of game followed the de- termined lawyer. He was possessed of good wind; but it soon became a trying vexation to keep up his straining gait. His face was red, the perspira- tion stood out upon his forehead, he panted for breath. ‘‘There they go! Hang it!—wish they’d stop”—as the barouche turned to ascend the north bill, When he reached the railroad, he saw them half-way to the top. ‘‘Lord!” he ejaculated, “whatarun! Whata hill! got ’em. Get ’em presently.” Up, up—presently the vehicle made another turn and dashed away more furiously than ever down New Jersey avenue, Crewly was becoming disgusted with the chase, which, he feared, was to prove a longer one than he counted on. | “Hang it! Why don’t they reach the end of the rv. ute!” | He bad reached the narrow plank-way that serves for a pavement, and arrived at the tem- porary steps, when two men confronted him— Harold Haxon and Gil Bret. Taken aback by their unlooked-for presence, he stopped in his headlong course and gazed at them in astonishment. They, too, were breathing bard in the severe tax of physical power they had undergone. For a second, they eyed the lawyer in silence; Crewly returned the stare with interest. Gil Bret was the first to speak. A frown added to the ugliness of his ill-cut features, and, clinching his fist, he stepped toward their mutual enemy. “Look out!” gasped Crewly, fully out of breath. “Take care—vyagabond! Bad busi- nezs! Hit you once, knock you in half! Dan- gerous,[ am! Frightful! Fight like the devil when I try! Keep off!” and the white um- brella was poised threateningly aloft. Gil Bret did not notice either the warning or the upraised umbrella, with an effort; But lve almost He saw, in the man before him, an enemys 'and Harold Haxon glared upon him with ine | } See OO EEE ee eee eee... + * a ——— a But I can’t help it—I | tensest hatred. ‘* Look out now, I tell you,” snapped Crewly, for the second time, © Dangerous! Don’t fool with me! Get hurt!—ha!—rascal!” With a sudden spring, Bret closed upon the lawyer. His ponderous fist circled in the air, then descended with Jit htning quickness— upon an umbrella which met it balf-way, There was an excruciating crack of knuckles, and Crewly muttered: “Told you so!—dog!” Maddened by the lawyer’s coolness, Gil Bret: followed up this blow with another, more suc- cessful, and, in return, his bead was made to ring and ache by the dull thud of the white umbrella as it siruck fairly on his temple. A fierce oath, balf-howl of rage, burst from the bruiser’s lips, and he clinched with bis ad- verrary. Then the entire suppleness, strength and: steel-like elasticity of the lawyer’s body was: displayed. As they struggled for the mastery, Crewly would seem {to twist and coil about his an- tagonist, then unwind, then wriggle and rquirm into a fresh hold—all the while avail- ing himself of opportunities to put in a blow with his bard, bony fist. Already the bruiser’s face was covered with blood, Round and round they twisted, swayed, bent, staggered. Gil Bret was now cool, but savage in that coolness. The cleverness with which Crewly avoided every blow and de- feated every trick within the wrestler’s art, was tantalizing. Presently both tripped. Down to the ground, rolling several feet, pitched, tugged and fought the two men, Bret on top. With an adroit movement, Crewly slipped, eel-like, from the other’s hold, and turned the tables, He was now uppermost, and held Bret down as if between a vice. ‘*Now, dog!—where are we now, eh? How’s that for a fight?” In the excitement of the moment, he forgot the presence of a third party. Bareheaded, his ccmical countenance now flushed and stern with triumph, he looked down upon the whipped bruiser and raised bis fist. ‘*Now, scoundrel!—you’ll remember Chris. Crewly— Ha!” Some one grasped his wrist, and a voice said: * Hold!” . Turning, he beheld Harold Haxon, who held his wrist in a grip of iron and pointed a revol- ver at his heart. The muzzle of the deadly weapon covered him beyond a possibility of escape, and the villain added, hissingly: ‘“‘Now then, my fine fellow, whoever you are, we'll put an end to your meddlesome life!” His finger was upon the trigger. Crewly said nothing. With the face of a Stoic, he awaited the fatal explosion, ‘‘ Shoot ‘im, Haxy!” sputtered Bret, enraged at bis defeat; “shoot ’im quick, an’ let me up I’ The shot did not come. A sound of foot~- steps, a thud; Harold Haxon staggered against. the railing and the pistol fell from bis band, Tbe new comer was Austin Burns, Crewly leaped up, and Bret no sooner felt himself free, than be gained his feetand dashed off on a run, In a vain attempt to catch the bruiser, Haxon was forgotten, and both vil'ains made their escape. While Crewly examined kis umbrella, he said, snappisbly: ‘© There—hang it! you’ve spoilt it all,” “Spoiled what?’ exclaimed Austin, as he picked up the revolver and put it in his pocket. “What? Why, my little game. I had ’em! See? There you’ve kicked up a rumpus that’s: let ’em get away. Bad business, this! Too. bad! I’m sorry.” “But Mr. Crewly, your life was—” ‘Never mind; all right, Where did you come from? Thought you were sick in bed.” “Not confined to my bed, Mr. Crewly; only a little indisposed—” ‘‘ Nervous system out of order—abem! Take care of yourself.” ‘‘The day appeared so glorious and entic- ing, that I could not content myself “2 che house. I walked out to breathe the delicious air. 1 believe Providence must have Zack my steps to this place. If I had not awed Le ~~ Eom