Beadle's Dime Library No. 260: The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

—_=<3 Y / want to see the crescent, : ’ 28 I have neither seen nor heard anything of her for a Jong, long while.” “The fortuze-teller,” suggested Eola. **Perbaps.” ‘‘But that is not the favor I would ask,” she hesitated. ‘ I want to see the crescent.” He was more calm, as their conversation touched upon the mysterious article, than she had dared to hope for. ‘‘ And why do you wish to see it?” he asked. ‘*Oh!—because.” A woman’s reason in the dark. ‘*You have it upon your arm,” ‘‘Tknow I bave. But you have told me so much of the crescent, how it came to us, why I have it pricked upon my arm, that now I want to see it.” ‘‘It is but the original device of what is on ‘your arm,” be said, evasively, So you have told me before, I donot doubt it. “Tt gleams with rarest jewels; is made of jet; its value in money would be hard to com- pute. ‘* That, too, you bave already told me,” *‘T have it safe,” as if he would deviate from her request. ‘I brought it with me. I dared not trust it in my library, in Baltimore, for it had been discovered, and there were those who would steal it from me.” ‘*Was that why you were so anxious to be alone in your library the night I came to you a righ and found you bleeding?” Eola shud- ered, Remembrance of that night could never be erased from her mind, Its fearful mysteries; the singular behavior of her father, his thin, ghost-like face; the dismissal of Austin Burns, the conflicting thougbts that had robbed her of sleep, and kept her, through the long hours, un- ‘til morning, wakeful, restless, uneasy—all was so vividly impressed upon her, that, when she wecalled it, a clammy chill crept over her. “Yes.” said he, ‘‘tuey had discovered its ihiding-place.” “They? Who?” ‘““There must bave been more than one—you ‘know there was a woman and a man—else, who struck me when I held Wat Blake—” He 2 nag sort. ola knew nothing of the dreadful scene that ‘had transpired on that night in the third story room; he bad almost betrayed himself. ‘‘ There was more than one,” he finished, **But you are foreetene what I asked. I ill you not show it to me?” ‘Curb your curiosity, Eola—” ‘'No, father, I cannot. I want to see that which has been the source of misery to your ‘life since the day you gave way to the will of tbat vile woman called Louise Ternor,.” Harnden Forde thought a moment, ‘1 can't let you have it,” he said, genpting’y ‘‘T do not want to take it from you; merely to look at it.” ‘‘Very well.” He made a movement to rise. That Eola had an object in her request was apparent. She laid a hand on bis arm, as if to detain him. ‘* You will show it to me?” ‘*'Yes, my child, you shall see it.” He was «crossing the room, Eola arose and said, quickly: “Stop, father; wait a moment, But the had passed the door. Had ho stayed to hear what she had to say, it would have been better for him. After gaining bis promise to show her the erescent, sho did not wish to see it. Why? We shall see anon. She would have detained him. Something -was upon her lips; but her father had disap- peared into his room. The bedroom of Harnden Forde was the first ‘in the rear of the parlor. He advanced toa large trunk that stood near the window, unlocked and opened it. The tray was taken out; be reached down to one corner, atthe bottom, At the same instant his face was overspread with a ghastly pallor. There was nothing there! ; Hurriedly he rummaged through the con- tents: dragged them out upon the floor; then stared wil ly at the empty trunk. For one brief moment he gazed downward; then, as if struck with some intense agony of brain, he reeled backward, uttered a half- smothered ery, and sunk to the floor. ‘* Gone! gas he gasped. ‘‘Oh! God pit me now! It is gone! The Black Crescent is gone!” ™—” _-__--c CHAPTER XXIX. EN TABLEAU, At the same instant that Harnden Forde made the discovery which caused his limbs to give way under him, bis brain to whirl, and his tot- teriug form to fall to the floor, there camea Joud summons at the door. The bell clanged and tingled witha foreboding sound, and omi:.ous echoes cut the stillness of the house. Eola paused half-way across the room, and toward the door of the parlor. An in- at se ett LD LLL LLL LLL LL LL LLL LLL LLL a ete ee ooo | | describable feeling riveted her, and—she knew |} not why—a strange excitement warmed the blood of her young veins. Twice, tbrice, was that summons repeated, and sti:l she stood, as if powerless to move, her large blue eyes widening, and the awe of mys- terious suspevse creeping upon her, No sound came from the room in which lay Harnden Forde, She had heard the stifled cry that told of some overpowering discovery—sbe had started to fol- low ber father. Presently a servant came, mumbling and grumbling over the arrival of visitors at so late an hour, inwardly vowing that, though the com- ers might be the best in the land, he would bid them begone. Half-awake, rubbing his sleepy eyes, he tardily unlocked the door, and was about to demand the business of those who roused him from his nap beside the warm furnace, when a voice anticipated him. ** Does Harnden Forde live here?” ** Yes, sir, ’e does live ’ere,” answered the ser- vant, bluntly. *“ We wish to see him, then.” The voice was strange to Eola. Who could it be? wee the question that flashed through her mind. ‘‘ Well, now,” returned the servant, ‘ this ’ere’s rather a late Lour for folks to be a-comin’ to see folks—” ‘*‘ Hark, sirrah! If Harnden Forde is in this house, we will see him at once, if we have to drag him from his bed!” The voice was deter- mined, threatening. ‘* Yes, sir, but ’ee see—” . “No ‘buts’ about it!” interrupted a sharp voice. ‘Stand aside. Spoil my umbrella over your nose, if you don’t! Hear?” *“ But, now, ’ee see—” expostulated the ser- vant, They were pushing past him. The man was a little frightened. At first he was inclined to yell ‘‘thieves”"—then he saw there were females in the party. Next be was on the point of calling for belp to oppose th's forcible intrusion; but the same sharp voice that had before threatened him with a broken nose now said: “Make a noise, and I'll choke you! Cry out, and I'll make you eat some teeth! Fact! Hear? Dangerous, I am. No fooling, now, Where’s Harnden Forde, eh? Rascal!—speak quick!” ** He—he—he’s in the p-parlor, sir.” A stamping of feet, the parlor door was pushed back, and Wat Blake, with Christopher Crewly dancing Close to his heels, entered the room, At sight of these strangers, who entered so unceremonious]y—tke stern look in Blake’s coun- tenance, the burning, searching gaze he fixed upon Eola—all brought her to a sense of he - sition; and she drew her slender figure érect, ker cheeks flushed; she contemplated them with haughty inquiry. Crewly immediately began a circuit ot the room, elevating bis nose and darting glances here and there, as if taking an inventory of the furniture, ‘‘ Sir, what is the meaning of this?” E»la’s bosom heaved; indignation was fast ab- sorbing ber emotions, *“*Eola!t Eola!” Austin Burns sprung for- ward. She looked at him in surprise; but it was only for a second, ** Austin—dear Austin!” “Found at last, darling, after a most tiring hunt!” Bertha and Ora had entered the room. ‘Where is Harnden Forde?’ demanded Ber- tha, her accent somewhat stern. ‘“Vamoosed, I guess,” assumed Crewly, from the depths of an easy-chair. The servant, who had followed them, now gained the center of the tableau. He was about to resume bis expostulations, but stopped short, in dumb astonishment, on seeing Austin Burns clasp Eola to him and shower kisses on her willing lips. Crewly saw the fellow, and made a jump to- ward him, ‘* Rascal!” he cried, but the man was gone, ‘‘Where is Harnden Forde?” asked Bertha, again. ‘‘Ob, mother,” said Ora, “don’t be so stern. Remember your promise to me. Speak gentler.” ‘Don’t, child, don’t. Not now. You un- nerve me.” “Is Harnden Forde in this house?” thundered Wat Blake, ‘Pitch in! Business,” added Crewly. Eola disengaged herself from her lover, and faced the speaker—faced them all. “He is. What is your business with him, that it calls for intrusion upon the privacy of our apartments at this unseemly hour? Why do you ask, in such a tone, to see my father? Who are you? Explain, sir, and quickly—your actions need it.” ‘Look out, Blake!” admonished the lawyer, who evinced a desire to hide behind a chair, as Eola addressed them spiritedly. “Kola.” said Austin, striving to calm ber, ‘““waita few moments. All may be well. You are hasty. These are my friends—” The Masked Mystery. i ——————————————————— SS cr tc eZ — ‘Then they are strange ones!”—even rebuk- ing him, in the warmtb of ungovernable resent- ment, a state for which we cannot much blame her. And again, to Blake: ‘* Will you explain, sir? Gentlemen do not force themselves where there are ladies—at least without some due courtesy, and you have given evidence of none, You have entered here as if you were law depu- ties, with a search-warrant, aud we the thieves! You are silent.” * Kola!” interrupted Austin. *T say, Wat Blake—sell out and retire!” Crewly was grinning—something he had never been known to do of late years, The aspect tickled him. There was a commotion in the next room. The voices had aroused Harnden Forde—they were not unfamiliar to him. He regained his feet, staggered to the folding- doors, and looked in upon them, Bertha, his wronged wife; Wat Blake, whom he had nearly strangled on that fearful night in Baltimore; Christopher Crewly, whom he had bribed to aid him in bis nefarious schemes, and whose life he afterward attempted, through a hired rufflan—assassin—all these faced bim, and leveled upon him glances that entered like burn- ing shafts to the innermost depths of bis heart yet did not at once soften, as if they penetrated the contriteness of his crushed soul. Weak and dizzy from the effects of his late discovery ; alarmed, terrified, chilled upon be- holding bis victims concentrated, as it were, against him; and these combined with a har- rowing sense of guilt and utter hopelessness— he gasped for breath and reeled forward, under the shock, like a drunken man. But for the interposition of a strong, sustain- ing arm he would have fallen. ‘‘ Stand up, Harnden Forde! Man yourself!” said Wat Biake, and the tone was one of pity, even in its sternness. LmeeP your pins!” added Crewly, encourag- ingly. All eyes were bent upon the stricken man, Ora’s arms were about her mother's neck, and up to then, the last moment, the crisis, she pleaded for her father. Bertha Icoked upon bim who bad wrought her every trial, anguish, sorrow of life; and her dark eyes, at first cold and glittering, now melted to a softer gaze, Woman-like, ber heart was touched—the sight of misery broke her bosom’s steel. Eola began to comprehend. Her face p»led; she glanced uneasily from one to another of those assembled. Forde did not, then, mark the lovers. In the momentary stillness’ that pervaded, things seemed confused in bis vision; be rocked un- steadily upon the arm that supported bim. Even Crewly was affected by the solemn scene—a scene in which a broken spirit, tor- tured with crimes, bowed low in pete nee, and mouths seemed powerless in speech. ‘‘ Harnden Forde, nerve yourself,” said Wat Blake. ‘‘ We are not here to do you ilL” Ora uttered a low exclamation of joy at hear- ing these assuring words. “Go to him—go to him, Ora,” whispered Bertha, striving to check the tears that would cim her eyes; for she was but woman, after all, with every golden trait by which ber sex is made to soar above the ruder molds of earth, Two loving arms twined about the neck of Harnden Forde; two blue eyes, lustering in ‘enderness, were upturned to bis; a sweet face centered in his gaze, and Ora, her lips quiver- inz, murmured the one word: ‘* Father!” Father! Who called him father? It was not Eola, yet the voice was very like to bers, There was a music in the accent, a sound that strengtbened him. He saw more distinctly—saw a strange, beau- tiful face that resemblea EolJa’s, ‘“Who are you?” be articulated faintly, tak- ing the fair bead between his bands, as if be would read the features closer. ‘Your child! Your child!” was tremored from ber li ‘My child!” He started; the words were re- peated involuntarily. He raised his head: and looked slowly around upon those who stood near. “Bertha!” How strangely calm bis voice and mien. ihe “Husband! Husband!” at one wild bound she reached his side; with a convulsive effort be drew her to bis breast, ‘‘ ‘‘Qh, Harnden, Harnden! we are not_here to torture or to punish, but to forgive! Yes—we would forgive. Let us make you happy.” ‘* Bertba—poor injured one!” was 4 I he said, tolding ber more closely to him. And this bad Ora wrought! “ All is past, Harnden,” said Bertha, present- ly; ‘‘all is past and forgiven. Let it lie buried. Our children plead this end, Harnden—our ebil- dren’s happiness. You will take me to you’— for I must, I do forgive all, though it bas been much and deep.” ‘Take you tome, Bertha! Oh, can you, Ca” you erase from your memory the years that have passed—” ‘‘ Not all, dear Harnden; for there are Ye4!s 00! com Gc