Beadle's Dime Library No. 260: The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

kin, an’. we'll have a puff purse, ’ithout no | trouble, ,That’s all. Got that document ’ith you, ’at we’re a usin’ ag’in’ Forde?” “ Yes.” ‘Give it to me. Tl keep it. Meet me at the Golden Gates to-night at eight o’clock, an’ let me know how you’ve made out.” Haxon took a soiled paper from bis pocket- book, and handed it over to the bruiser. Gil Bret settled for the treat, and the two separated at the door outside. The bruiser walked down to the wharves, and interested himself with looking at the sbipping—a bootblack retiring before him, with a handful of tobacco-juice as a reward for his importunities., When the two left the Fountain saloon, they did not notice the tall form of Wat Blake, as that personage stood, with his back to the stove, facing the rear entrance, When they were gone, he left, also, and, as he walked along, he muttered: **So Gil Bret, shrewd scoundrel! is after the Black Crescent. How lucky that Bertha saw them passing the market! Bret has the paper, eh? These rascals shall not long prosper in their power over Forde, if Ican prevent it. They meet at Patterson Park to-night at eight o'clock, I will be there—and I will not be alone, I must have that paper.” Thus musing and resolving, he reached Bal- timore street close bebind Harold Haxon, whom he had, unconscicusly, been following. ’ CHAPTER VII. . HARNDEN FORDE FINDS THE CRESCENT SAFE; AND WHAT THAT CRESCENT WAS. As Harnden Forde approached his daugh- ter, his brow darkened, ' He saw, by the dim light of the fire, that she was agitated, and her agitation was such that she was at a loss for speech, Had she struck the telling blow which, be- ond a doubt, proved the salvation of Wat Blake's life?—for, considering the desperate frenzy Forde was ip, as he grew fearful that his plan would fail, the death of the man who ~ was helpless in his clutches would have seemed - inevitable. She was attired in a loose wrapper, as if she had been about to retire, when suddenly, unex- jectedly interrupted, ‘*EKola—what does this mean? Why are you here?” He did not question her too closely at first, for, though his mind was filled with a sus- ‘picion plausible under the circumstances-—viz: that it musé have been his own child who struck him—still he hoped that he was mis- taken, and that she had not been a witness to the fearful scene. ._ “Has anything happened, father?” she fia ked, half-recoiling before his strange appear- ance. For a moment he regarded her steadily, ** How long have you been here, Eola?” ~ Scarcely a second, Ab! there is blood upon your hand! Ob! tell me what has hap- ! Sometbing—something—” His head was bruised and the flesh broken. Tn feeling of the welt that was upon his head, the blood therefrom had stained bis hand, ~ He quickly thrust the discolored hand from her sight. ; _., "My child, did you strike ms just now?” ‘ “ Strike you!” and the arms that had wound round his neck dropped nerveless to her side, ‘Strike you! Oh, father, what do you mean? I have only been here a few seconds. When I came you were arising frem the floor, as though you had been lying there. I 4 ‘do not know what you mean. You are bloody! of, Something has happened, Oh, tell me what it is?” f _, Forde was convinced that she spoke openly _... -and truthfully. She bad never deceived him ‘with a falsehood—she would not do it now. _ ** What brought you here, Eola?” evading 2 ber desire to know what had taken place. “T was disrobing, when there came a knock at my door, and a woman’s voice bade me . hurry. What ails you, father?” ** Nothing, nothing; speak quick!” __* Opening the door, I found a strange man bs and woman there. Before I could recover | from my astonishment, they were gone, having told me to make haste up here; that you beeded my assistance. And I came at once, os fearing—” 4 | “ Which—which way did they go?’ he in- . ferrupted, excitedly. & ‘© Toward the library.” A) * is _'The Masked Mystery. ee | parchment, pace more than a walk along the unlighted hall, down the stairs, and across to the room which was bis library. As he reached the door he heard a sound | thut resembled the closing of a window-sash. serted; all was still as the grave. A gas-jet was burning low, which, in the silent hour of midnight, gave to the apartment a surrounding of spectral shadows. He wert straight to a desk near the window and unlocking the case, penetrated toa secret pigeon-hole, from which he drew out a yellow ‘Safe! safe!” he muttered, his face bright- ening; “still safe, And yet I would give it them if they would be content with that alone and leave me forever. Ha! who's that?” Eola had followed bim. ‘‘ Kola, child, return to your room. Go to bed.” ‘‘ But, father, oh! do tell me what has hap- pened,” continuing to advance. ‘No, no; not to-night. To-morrow. Go— leave me.” She obeyed, murmuring: ‘“‘Oh! Heaven grant I may some time know what means the mystery that shrouds this house. T’ll go; but I cannot sleep now,” pausing in the doorway. ‘ You'll tell me all to-morrow?” “ Yes, yes; go—go now.” But Harnden Forde spoke recklessly. His object then was to be alone. When he gave the promise he considered it forced upon him, and meant to avoid fulfillment of it. ‘* Yes, that’s safe!” he continued to himself, and he returned the parchment to its place, The welt upon his head was painful. Wet- ting his handkerchief from an ice pitcher near him, he bathed the wounded part and turned again to his desk. Drawing back the panel which concealed an ingeviously-contrived drawer, be drew the latter out, and gazed steadfastly down upon the Black Crescent. It was a curious piece of workmanship—per- haps six inches long and four broad, and of most valuable composition. The ground was pure, smooth jet, diversified with minute lines of garnet heads, and studded with diamonds at intervals of an inch; while the edging was solid gold, one-quarter of an inch deep. The top of each prong was a small crown of ‘rubies and pearls, with delicate threads of gold and black like gauze-work inter- mingled. It was at least an inch anda half in thickness, and the back of the whole was one solid plate of silver. Between the two edges on the outside from point to point, was a dark hair line which might have indicated that the crescent could be laid open upon tiny concealed hinges, in the shape of a figure eight, without the joining line at the middle. There lay the mysterious article, its many rich jewels glistening, sparkling, raying its confusion of brilliant colors in the light of the faint gas-jet, and Harnden Forde, with an in- definable expression upon his white face, stood over it, contemplating it in silence. What Gil Bret, the “ rough,” wanted with this crescent we are able to infer, The valu- able geme would have been a fortune to any one, Why Wat Blake wished to secure it, we will learn anon. Outside the library window, and almost reaching to it, was a stout grape rack. Upon the top strip of this rack, his two hands cling- ing to the sill, was a man. As Harnden Forde stood there, his eyes fixed upon the crescent, another pair of eyes were watching him through the window-panes. At last Forde closed the drawer, and as he refastened the desk, he said, slowly: “No! No! No! I must never part with it. Great Heaven! what would be the conse- quences? Did not Madame Fernandez say that—that— But away with such words! Am I not miserable enough in remembering, without repeating the dark syllables? God!— is the world at large as superstitious as J am? If it is—unhappy world! It is hereditary! I have fought—ob! how T have struggled in resistance of the clammy coils! But in vain —I fear something; something continually! That horrible curse!—that dread prophecy! Ha! sme one repeats them in my ear! No, no, it is my fancy. Only fancy. I wonder —if—I—am—going—Mab!” He sunk into a Casting off the arms that had for the second | chair, and the aged head bowed upon his {ime fixed about his neck, he staggered at a |’ breast. The weary, sunken eyes were fixed vacantly upon the earpet. ‘‘ My poor Eola! She, before whom the proud and wealthy in our midst would go down upon their knees, if their reward was to be an approving smile! | —she, who never knew a care or sorrow; be- But when he entered the library it was de- a loved by all who know her; all on earth to Austin Burns— Ha! I must not think of him! He is Bertha Biake’s son; my -own— child! Haxon’s letter said so. I dare not doubt it! And she, poor girl, knows not the abyss, over which I am tottering!—knows not that, at any moment, we may be crushed, trampled upon, shamed before the world! And J, J have wrought this state of things, through a folly of former days!—folly? it was crime! Oh! that I could bave reasoned with my nature then! Would that I bad taken the hand outstretched in forgiveness three years ago!—and all might have been well.” His face was buried in bis hands; a low, painful sob told that he was weeping. The face outside the window raised bigher, and assumed a stern cast; the eyes that looked in upon him seemed riveted in their gaze; while the soft wind carried away upon its wings the words: “¢ Remorse at last !” Half an bour, an hour, nearly two hours slipped by, Harnden Forde moved not, Presently, there was a slight noise at the window. If be slept, the sound aroused bim, for he started up and glanced suspiciously about him. Ashe did so, he heard footsteps in the yard below. In another second he was at the window—and just in time to see through the gloom, a man going out at the gate. ‘Tt must have been Wat Blake!’ he ex- claimed, pacing to and fro. ‘‘I have been watched! How long did he cling fast there, spying upon me? He saw me at the desk! He must have seen the certificate—the crescent! I can not leave here now, or I shall be robbed! Oh! if I could but see Bertha! Bertha— Bertha, you would forgive!” Long, leng he walked tbat floor and fought the drowsy god who laid a hand upon bis eye- lids. Through the still night, with naught but bis own heart-beatings to break the silence of the room, and no companion, save his barrowing thoughts, Harnden Forde kept his vigtl; and the first gray shades of morn were cr+¢:ing in through the window, when he ceased his sentry striding and pulled the bell-cord. Early as it was, the domestics of Forde’s house were stirring, and his summons was an- swered by the hall servant, who was greatly surprised to find bis employer up and in the library at that uvusual hour, ‘‘ James, go eat your breakfast, and return to me at once, Ihave new duties for you to perform. . Your place in the hall can be done with in future.”’ “ I hope, sir, I haven’t been. doin’ anythin’ wrong, sir?’ stammered James, who did not exactly comprehend. ‘No, James; I have no fault to find. But, do as I tell you—eat your breakfast and return to me, here, as soon as possible.” Wondering what his employer could have in view, that should take him from his onny position in the ball, the servant departed; an Forde, worn out, and sick in mind, threw him- self, with a deep sigh, into a chair, to wait, James returned shortly, Harnden Forde took a small revolver from the top of the desk, and, laying one hand upon the servant’s arm, he said: ‘Take this,” James took the weapon, and stared in a be- wildered manner. ‘‘T did not sleep last night, James, I have kept a lonely watch here, walking with my weary limbs, like a sentry who guards his camp fire.” The serving man opened his eyes wider, but said nothing. Forde transferred his hold to the otber’s wrist, and, as his listener winced at the touch of the icy cold fingers, he con- tinued: ‘You have been in my service for years. I feel that I can trust you. Listen: there is t'at in my desk the loss of which would send me to my grave in misery! [ wish you to am liable to be robbed at any moment, day or night; and no one is to enter this library!” The last words were peculiarly emphasized, and James stared the more. ‘‘Guard my interests, and I will increase (e(0) ,OOKS MMLC (e(o)) “ pane