Beadle's Dime Library No. 263 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

stamps or currency. Take your choice, my | 8 Iron-Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destroyer. was different, but in no other way had he changed. Even the brilliant diamond pin, be- fore mentioned, was in place on bis breast. “Tt is he; I will swear to it!” Doctor Rube muttered, ‘‘ but what in the name of mystery is he gore with her? He don’t seem anxious to sever her hand now, mor does she appear afraid he will do it, What mare’s nest have I stumbled upon?” The doctor knit his brows in a thougbtful scowl, but the mystery was too profound for his comprehension, ** By my life, Pll confront him!” he resolved, tbis side the divide.” “That’s not what I’m en at. Don’t you know anything of her life? She is rich, you say. What is her property and where did she get it? and—” “*Hold on!” interrupted Boxfield. ‘‘She in- herited her property from old Jacob Temple- ton, the miser millionaire, There wasn’t much of a mystery about that. He died and she ap- ared, proved her claim and secured the ucre,” ‘*She appeared, did she? From where?’ auadenly. ‘* Somewhere in the south of the State, where And then he made bis way to where Boxfield | she bad been living with an old lady as com- was talking with Miss Templeton and Diamond | panion—” and carelessly addressed the former. ‘Los Angeles?” Of course there was but one thing for Boxfield to do, and he did it unsuspiciously. “Doctor Leyden, my friend, Mr. St. Jerome.” And then Mr, St. Jerome put out the white, blue-veined hand Doctor Rube so well remem- bered. “Tam pleased to meet you, doctor,” he said, in the old, well-remembered voice. Leyden was staggered; his cool assurance was both remarkable and, in its way, admirable. **T believe we have met before,” he stubborn- ly said. ‘“‘Have we?” and St. Jerome elevated his brows in surprise. ‘‘I do not recollect it, Pray, when avd where was it?” “One year ago, and at the City of the Desert,” steadily answered Doctor Rube, his gaze never shifting from the face before him, Into the face there crept a look of perplexity which was like that lately visible on Miss Tem- | the ashes from his cigar and began. pleton's. | ‘Something like eight months ago I was one **T—I don’t exactly understand,” he mur- | day sitting in the office of Mr. Beesinger. I had mured, | attended to the very learned work of sweeping **Can you expect me to forget Captain Dia- | the place, which I did as Coke and Blackstone mond?” the doctor demanded. | would direct, and was awaiting my honorable One moment the perplexed look remained on | partner elect, when the door opened and in St. Jerome’s face, and then he smiled lightly. walked a young lady. “Tm afraid I must call for a new hand. I ‘Twas Miss Leora Templeton, and no sooner haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking | did my gaze rest upon ber than I was a captive, about. I don’t remember ever seeing you be- | wound around by Cupid’s threads, [ll ski fore, while the expressions ‘ Captain Diamond’ | that, however. She wanted to see the learne and * The City of the Desert’ are wholly vague, | Bessinger, but while she waited she was_ so though I believe the last term is often applied | good as to talk to the humble Boxfield. Not to Salt Lake City.” on business, for she did not suspect I was des- “I do not refer to Salt Lake City, sir, as you | fined to be a partner. Our talk was more are well aware, and as this lady is aware; but | elevated, high-toned, and more calculated to if you are willing to drop the matter, I am.” make the arches of ages thunder in the style of Doctor Rube spoke with a want of tact un- | the poem. usual to him, and greatly to Boxfield’s horror. ‘* Anon came Beesinger and I found she was The other two persons seemed stunned by sur- | the next of kin of Jacob Templeton, deceased prise, and before their emotion, real or feigned, | miser millionaire, aforesaid. Naturally, she vanished, the young lawyer had sprung intothe | wanted the money he left, This, however, was gap with the zeal of one anxious to avert a | not her first word on the subject; she had been cloud in the air which migh. resolve itself into | corresponding with the learned Beesinger for a duel. some time. Usually, this would bave been my “Good gracious, what’s all this talk about?’ | work, but with so much money at stake my he demanded, with a forced laugh. ‘“ Rube, | senior bandled the ribbons. That’s the way ou idiot, how many more ghosts will you see | Miss Leoracame on the scene, and when ber night? I expect that you will soon imagine | identity was fully proven she took Jacob’s mil- you see the god of the medical profession— | lions.” what’s his name?—Mepbistopheles, Sophocles, Doctor Rube pulled bis mustache with vicious Esculapius—ah! that’s it!—and go to shake | thoughtfulness, hands with him. Come, old fellow, these are ‘** There was no opposition, I suppose?” friends of mine; tell them you mean no offense ** None, though the executors were a trifle by your insane rambling.” crabbed at first.” Doctor Rube managed to smile in turn. “Why?” “T certainly intend no offense,” he said. “Curiosity, your name is R. Leyden, M. D. ** Ever ogee is his, or her, own master, or | Well, my esteemed friend, you see it had been ought a , and I don’t wish to overturn the | incorrectly reported that Leora was dead. She good old rule.” was in arailroad accident two years ago, and “‘ That's all right then, and as they are about | was said to have been lost. The accident was a to dance the last time, let’s all go in and do our , mixed-up affair; some people escaped entirely, ir,” | some were killed and burned in the cars, which Boxfield’s «trategy broke up the hostile com- | ignited from a stove and were reduced to ashes, bination, and they met no more that night; but | while still a third class were taken away by once on fhe street he backed Rube up against a | sympathetic residents of the vicinity and, being building and raised bis hat. harbored by them, their fates were unknown “There, let the wind cool your heated brow | for some days, Such was the fate of Leura while I speculate what can be done to cure you | Templeton, who sustained a severe shock; but of the whisky habit. Smith, Dosem and Cure- | on the authority of her traveling-companion— all each advertise a sure cure for fifty cents, | av = man—she was reported dead and burned in the cars. dear Rube, but you mus? stop getting intoxi- ‘* What was his object?” cated.” ‘None. Is was all due to poor eyesight. He “What rubbish is this?” the doctor morosely | saw some girl lying dead by the track, with one asked. hand severed by the cruel accident, and thought “Just what I want to know. You would ** Can’t say; the senior looked out for that.” ‘* The senior?” ‘*The gentleman with whom I hope to go in partnership some day," exclaimed Boxfield, waving his hand. ‘I refer to Mr, Beesinger, attorney-at-law.” ‘* Ha! did he have charge of the case?” **Yes, be, or, to speak more properly, WE ae the young lawyer answered, with dig- y. “Then do, unless you’re a clod or stone, open your mouth in earnest and tell me all about it.” Boxfield indulged in a whistle. “Curiosity of a woman, petulance of a ditto, inclination - to- make-a-mountain-out-of-a-mole- bill of a ditto. Why, old fellow, I’m surprised. But never mind; here’s how!” Boxfield tossed down a glass of wine, knocked =] it was she.” ~ have bad a quarrel on your hands, with a duel as a wind-up, if [ badn’t helped you out when CHAPTER X. you spoke so lpdiacrestly, to St. Jerome.” THE MYSTERY DEEPENS. ** So he’s a fighter, is he?” | ‘¢ WHat!” “A fighter! Well, I sbould cordially despise | Doctor Rube shot the word upon an innocent the man who wouldn’t pick up the gauntlet you | world in a way which made Mr. Boxfield jump, flung him. Why, only for me you would have | rap his knuckles and drop his cigar. When he turned the scene of gayety into one of dire de- | had recovered it he he reproachfully at the struction. What in blazes did you mean by it?” , doctor. “Wait until my room is reached; Pll talk | ‘‘ Now what have I done?” he groaned. with you there. Not another word until ** Did you say ber hand was cut off?” then!” ** No, sir, for I was not on the scene. Old And when they were comfortably settled in | Tuttle said so, basing his assertion on the treach- the room, and pnffing their cigars, it was Doc- | erous evidence of his eyes. Yon see, to be ex- tor Rube who reopened the subject. plicit, he crawled from the debris after the “What do you know of St. Jerome?” he ab- | grand smash-up, and looking a short distance away, saw what be took to be Leora Temple. ton. She was dead, mutilated as I said, and still held in the grasp of the twisted timbers, The sight was so terrible that the old man fainted. When he recovered he found he had been dragged to a place of safety by some one, ruptl asked, ; Nothing, except that he is a Mtoe man of this city, and au old friend of Miss Temple- ton,” ‘‘ Humph! what do you know of her?” ‘**T know she is a wealthy lady of ’Frisco, an old friend of St. Jerome’s, and the fairest girl | but the girl with the severed hand—perhaps I should say without it—had been cremated in the afore-mentioned fire which consumed the cars. Result: old Tuttle spread the story that Leora Templeton had died as aforesaid.” ‘Well?’ questioned Rube sharply. ‘*Tt was well, because it was not true.” “*T see. Go on.” ‘‘ Nothing more was seen or heard of Miss Templeton until Beesinger advertised for next of kin of Jacob Templeton, deceased miser mil- lionaire, Then she answered the ad., Beesing- vi sent for her, and she received her prop- erty. ‘**How long was this after the railroad ac- cident?” “Something like a year.” ** During which time she bad been—where?” **In the mountains. She received a severe nervous shock and was conveyed to the bouse of a native, as somebody calls it, where she re- cuperated, Being offered light work there, she remained, being Nein, for some time.” ‘“* And her band was not severed?” “ec No. ” ‘* Tuttle imagined it all?’ ‘* Either that or he tried to beat Mun- chausen.” Doctor Rube puffed steadily away at his Oger and as stea lly stared at the wall. Upon what sort of a tangle bad he chanced? In what way did this story fit into his own experience at the City of the Desert? Going back to that period in his life, he could not but regard it as suspicious that he had been asked to amputate Miss Templeton’s arm, “There is a villainous plot somewhere,” he thought, with a frown. ‘*Now then, my beloved Esculapius,” said Boxfield, after a pause, ‘‘ allow me to ask what nigger you scented in the brush-heap?” t was no more than a fair question, after his own elaborate explanation, but Doctor Rube was not so ready to divulge. Heretofore, Box- field had shared his confidence fully, but it occurred to bim that a lover of Miss Templeton was not the person to judge fairly in the matter. ‘Naturally ho would go straight to the girl,” thought the doctor, ‘‘and as it is clear she is now in league with Dian. ond, bought over by the glitter of money, she must be kept in igno- rance if justice is to triumph,” Just what he meant by the last few wild words he did not know. He had not yet formed definite plans for hurling Diamond and Miss Templeton to ruin, or for proclaiming their guilt from the house-tops, as a lofty saying goes, but he did think the honors of the latter not based on justice and right. ‘*Come, do we sleep?” Boxfield finally asked, impatiently, as Rube did not answer. “St. Jerome—what of him? You said he was an old friend of Miss Templeton’s,” ‘** We shall bave to take their words for it,” was the careless reply. “Of St. Jerome I really know little. He came to ’Frisco six or eight months ago, and as he had formerly been an acquaintance of Leora’s, he bas since been known as such.” ‘* Rather a strange story.” ‘Strange? In what way?” ‘‘ The dead seldom rise from their graves,” ‘‘ Bah! Supposing you refer to old Tuttle’s version of the railroad accident, ’twas all in bis eyes. The unfortunate young woman whose band was severed, and who was subsequently cremated in the train fire, was not Leora Tem- pleton. This stern fact robs the situation of the envenomed fangs of lurid mystery.” Boxfield spoke with the carelessness of one wholly at ease, mentally and otherwise, and Doctor Rube was glad it was so: but to the doc- tor’s mind came a recollection of that scene in the City of the Desert. Why bad he been ordered to amputate the band of the girl? To bim, an outline of an answer was not diffi- cult to find. The real Leora Templeton died in the railroad accident as reported, baving first been robbed ‘of her band and then burned among the cars, Secondly, the present holder of the name was an i ga who was makiog her resemblance useful. The City of the Desert episode was not clear, but at that moment it Jooked as though the counterfeit Leora had at first been a reluctant articeps criminis only to abandon her posi- ion and become Diamond’s ally when due, or undue, ar ents or threats were used. At first, too, it had plainly been deemed ne- cessary to sever er hand to make her look like the real Leora, but an after-thought had made them decide on the bolder scheme of sparing the band and giving the lie to former reports. ‘<A bold scheme which bas thus far been suc- cessful,” Doctor Rube thought; “but from this hour T amin the way.” Yes; already he had decided to act a decisive part. A great wrong had been done; the cun- ning scheme of an adventurer had put an ad- venturess in the place of the lawful Templeton heir, and he meant to do what he could to right the wronged. Luckily, Boxfield failed to give the matter the attention one would naturally expect, hav- nicboo cS (e oO (Ele) > —