Beadle's Dime Library No. 260: The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

, - ‘‘T am a friend to the victim of your early | library window attweive, I will let her in, wickedness, Iam her champion. She is near you—” _ ‘Near me? In this city?’ and he leaned eagerly forward to catch the reply. « ‘Have you ever repented your vile deed of years agone?’ continued be of the disguise, without noticing the interruption. ‘‘| bave! Ihave!” groaned Forde, burying his face in his hands, ‘‘ Would to Heaven that what is done could be undone—with- out—” ‘¢ Without hurting your interests, you would say? Bah!” ‘*Man, hear me”—a portion of his strength seeming to return, as he stepped forward and gz the wrist of the vailed ‘‘ champion”— ‘if Bertha Blake is in this city, lead me to her! She loved me once; she may hate me now; but she will forgive when—” ‘Mark me, Harnden Forde; if—” “Tt what? Speak! It shall be done.” ‘*Hold, You are hasty. But let me test your sincerity. Where is the certificate of marriage between you and Bertha Blake?’ ‘In my des—” he checked himself. There was something in the fire of those mask-encircled eyes, which betrayed suspense and eagerness in the listener; and for his in- tended words, he substituted: ‘¢You shall bave it, if Bertha Blake will leave me, forever.” “That is but half. Two articles must come together. I will not accept one without the o.ber— The Black Crescent |” With acry that might have resembled the wail of a lost soul entering the regions of eternal misery, Forde reeled backward and tell to the floor. The first movement of the man was to lock the door; which he did quickly. For the cry bad been heard, and footsteps approaching soon sounded in the entry, Taking up a pitcher of water, he sprinkled the face of the suddenly and singularly-stricken old gentleman. Presently the latter opened bis eyes, and, at the same instant, came a knock at the door, ‘Bid them begone,” commanded the un- I will do this, _ known, in a whisper. Forde ordered his servants to depart, and then added, as he arose feebly to his feet: ‘For God’s sake!—be merciful. Make me your slave, if you will; but I cannot give that up. Iwon’t /—be my shame what it may—at once. Have—have you no sympathy for peni- tence?” ‘Tt is useless. The time for repentance is past—past three years ago, when you spurned Bertha Blake—for the second time from you! I, her champion, swear that you shall yet make amends for the vile injustice she has suf- fered at your hands! Her claimshall be re- cognized! The Black Crescent shall be r3- stored!” Forde did not sink at this second mention of the mysterious Crescent; but from his ashen lips fell, beseechingly: ‘*No—no—no; consider my position! To be dragged down now! To be hurled, like an accursed pigmy upon a hooting world! To—” ‘Like you served Bertha Blake! You were anxious, a moment since, to make amends! Miserable man! You think all who witnessed our secret marriage are dead? You mistake. ut enough. Hark ye—if you disregard the order of that note, you are blasted, at once. Obey, and you may, at least, be safe for a me. Cease. I care not to continue this con- versation. Have me shown to my room,” ith trembling hand, Forde pulled the bell- cord; and the man unlocked the door, ““ Show—sbhow this—gentleman to the third- story back-room,” to the seryant-girl who an- swered the summons, She obeyed the order, her eyes widening, and mouth agape, as she conducted the dis- guised visitor up-stairs, - When the masked guest had closed the door of the room allotted to his use, he threw aside the mask, and removed his hat. Them we see that he is a fine specimen of manhood; strong, healthy, perhaps forty years of age, with smoothly-sbaven face, regular features, and an eye of electric glance. “Now,” he mused, seating himself in a large, cushion-back chair, “1 am satisfied of success, He dared not refuse me a room for the night. Poor, weak, superstitious fool! _ But a villain withal; though be is now tortured “with repentance. Bertha will ascend to the ! per as he added: . \ The Masked Mystery. _ We will search the desk, the prize must be there! awhile ago; but Iam sure he would have said, ‘In my desk.’ The Black Crescent and the certificate!—these once found, and then, my poor, wronged Bertha, you shall be cleared of the foul slander which couples with your name He checked bimself in his speech | ads oD De i te OMe ** Nol—no!—no! not murder! Bertba Blake’ must be found. She said the lawyer was nots dead! Thank Heaven!—my hands are clearcch of that! Would the fiends had him at this: moment, though! I'll goto Bertha. Ill beg, beseech, for Eola’s sake—mercy! mercy, that I may obey Harold Haxon, and save myself’ from the curse! And her ‘champion’—he in Richmond, and throw off the penniless garb | shall tell me where she is! I must not kill) put upon you by this wretch, whose supersti- tion bas well-nigh ruined you, The curse and prophecy weigh heavily upon his mind.” Dwelling upon some plot which evidently absorbed bis thoughts, be relapsed into silence, and sat awaiting the arrival of midnight. But, whether the plan afoot was one of necessity or mere desire, there was a train of events pending which tended to destroy his calculations, and the beginning of it was, he fell asleep as he sat blinking at the coals in the grate, The moments flew on. The stranger slum- bered; thougb, had some invisible mouth whis- pered in his ear the coming result of his lack- vigil, a flash of lightuing could not have been quicker, more sudden, than his return to wake- fulness. Harnden Forde was alone—miserable and mind-racked, in mental torture. Reseating himself at the table, he drew forth a document from an inner pocket, and, first making sure he was alone, began to read. And this is what he read: ‘*Mr. HARNDEN ForDE:— “As og have given me to understand, so em- phatically, that my suit for Eola’s hand is useless, I propose to convince a that Iam not so easily put off. To do this I will use two things; one, a name— Bertha Blake; the other, a date—Dec. 20th, 1863, Of the first, [know all. Of the second, I hol: the paper itself, and can summon a witness. More: doyou re- member the curse?—the er If you do, then beware! Austin Burns ts the son of Bertha Bluke— born, 1846! When he shall marry Eola Forde, the rophecy is out, and the curse is to be fulfilled! ut the marriage must not be. Avert the calamity by forcing her to become my wife. I shall call day ter to-morrow, to dine. See that you press my suit on that occasion. Austin Burns calls’ to see Eola to-morrow evening. If they meet, see that you order him from the house, without giving him op- paecatih to queseon you. Moreover, impress upon ola’s mind that she can never become the wife of Austin Burns, . Disobey me, if you dare. ‘* Your ob't serv’t, “HAROLD Haxon,”’ “ This—I—received—yesterJay,” he mur- mured, brokenly, and shivering as with an ague. “I am in his power. He knows all, and a word from him— God! I had fondly hoped to see Austin lead my child to the altar. But I must obey Haxon! I must! Yet how can I? Now this one!” His fingers twitched nérvously as he opened and read the note brought him by the masked visitor. It ran thus: ‘““HARNDEN Forpre:—I am watching you. One word from me, and your shame is inevitable. The stolen record is inany on. Thereisa witness yetalive. The lawyer, your former tool, still lives, and is my ally. To the point, though: a young man, named Austin Burns, is the accepted Jover of your child, Eola. I command you, do not hinder their union. Obey me. BeRTHA.” ‘And this—this from—who can he be? Between these two, merciful Heaven! what course is left me? How willingly would J obey thislast note! I have already answered ‘I dare not refuse,’ But the two order differ- ently. Oh! would not Bertha, for Eola’s sake, forgive me? But the Crescent! no!—no]—no! I cannot part with that. I am given a respite. But such a respite! I cannot bear shame, after these years of proud position and wealth! I thought Bertha was dead. But she is not. She is in this city. and sbe bas borne the wound of a broken heart so long! Mad fool that I was, to love Louise Ternor! I shall be destroyed— Ha!” He had started from the chair, and was pacing the room, when he halted suddenly, and began twisting bis skinny fingers through his spare locks, as he stared at the figured carpet. An idea had struck him. ' «Yes; there is one escape,”—casting a fear- ful glance about him, lest the listening walls should catch his husky utterances—*‘I am des- perate! I am wild! A knife-blow I could bear; but shame—never! never! and once ex- posed by either of these, I am blasted before the world! They must die—all!—all!”. but him! I shiver! side |" He restored the papers to his pocket, and turned toa deeanter of brandy on a stand in one corner. Of the liquor he drank heavily,, and then settled himself in a chair, The silver be'ls of a tower clock, in the hall, had struck the half-hour between eleven an@ midnight, when, with teeth clinched upon the the under lip, till the compressed flesh threat- ened to burst in cuts, he stole, like a gliding specter, from the parlor. Proceeding to the kitcben, he provided him» self with two ropes: one about three yards: long—the other, near three feet. With these,. he ascended to the room in the third story. The door of the apartment was not locked, and cautiously opening it, be peered in. " A grim smile overspread Harnden’s sickly- pale face, as he perceived the man sitting, motionless, in the large chair; and by the sound of deep, regular respiration, wifich came to his ears, he knew that his strange guest slumbered, On tip toe, he entered. Gradually, and with the tread of a cat, he approached the uncon- scious map. Reaching bis side, he stooped, to. get a look at the face, and instantly a tremor seized his limbs, while through his brain flashed the two words: ** Her brother !” The discovery appeared to cause bim much perplexity. He drew back a step, as if unce- cided how to act. Within a second’s flight, he added, suppressedly: - ; ‘“He must die—no! no! no! not murder! But he must teil me wheie she is. “Steady, nerves; steady. How I shake!” sF Schooling his nerves to calmness, he gently pleced the larger rope over the breast and arms of the. sleeper, thence conveying it around to the back of the chair, where he knotted it firmly. Next, with a quick, adroit movement, he threw the remaining rope, in a turn, around the neck of his captive, and cried, hissingly - ‘Wake up, Wat Blake! Wake up and meet your doom!” The tone was of such earnestness as to seem like the voice of one who was indeed resolved upon murder, With a gurgling exclamation, a twitch of tbe muscles, Wat Blake aroused, and essayed to release himself, ; But the cords were strong. The turn at bis neck was choking him. Harnden Forde’s knee pressed firmly against bis breast. He could not speak; and, with eyes starting, and features alternately reddening and whiten- ing under the torture of strangulation, he looked up into tbe fierce countenance that glowered over him, For a moment Forde slackened the tension of the rope, and cried: ‘I know you, Wat Blake; though you were but a boy when I married your sister! So you were not lost in the mines, after all! I remem- ber you well—” ‘“‘Vil—villain that you are! murder me?’ ‘*Tell mé where your sister is!” **T shall not!” ; ‘‘- Ycur stubbornness will not save your life!” tightening the cord again. “T care—n—not! Kil—] me! My death will be aveng—urg—g—g—” wr’ He was strangling. : “‘T cannot kill him!” flashed through Forde’s mind; but he was determined to wring the desired information from his enemy, and, par- tially maddened by a contemplation of his situation— between two fires, the flames of both threatening to wrap bim up in rude tongues of shame!—he twined his fingers round the ends of the rope, and pulled, till Blake’s eyes rojleq upward, and his whole powerful frame was convulsed in a struggle for breath, ‘Tell me! Tell me!’ he muttered, between How cold it must be out- Would you without a pause, and waving his hands before | gritting teeth, fearing that he was to fail in his him, as if to shut out the horrible plan bis ex- | desperate means to procure information, “ Tel] cited brain had covjured, be took two or three steps backward, und his voice sunk to a whis- me—qu’ck! . You are dying!” A relaxation of strngele, a fast filming gaze, was all the answer be ree:iced. a) eGoim C S.