Beadle's Dime Library, Vol. III, No. 29 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

'_ oF wr betes Ss ee SaaS ee such an influence over Fred, that I fear he has poi- soned his mind against me. And then Fred learned of my agency in the enlightenment of his father, and hates me on that account, though God knows that it was only to secure his real well-being that I was induced to act.” All this recurred to May’s mind, as her brother shrunk away with such a startled look, and cried: ‘*T?—to Tiger Dick?”’ She thought him self-condemned by his actions, and covering her face with her hands, said, brokenly: “No, no; not to Tiger Dick; but to papa. He is at the bank with grandfather.”’ Fred Powell, hastened by his sister, not stopping to analyze the sudden emotion that had come over her, ascended to his room. Having rearranged his toilet, he passed out on the street again, and walked toward the business part of the city. . On a corner he came across a group of men dis- cussing the last sensation; and, Lessin to look into a shop window, he stopped to listen to their con- versation. “Found ’em trussed up like a pairof Christmas turkeys!"’ one of them was saying, with a coarse laugh. ‘‘And the joke of it was, they made the cashier unlock the strong-box and trot out the spon- doolicks,”’ “How did they git in without wakin’ ’em up?” asked a bystander. “Skeleton keys,”’ replied the first speaker, “And what about Tiger Dick? They say they’ve got him in the rho Ay ‘* Too true!” said the first speaker, with a leer that set the others to laughing, ‘‘ And did he have his pockets stuffed with skads?”’ ‘“Nary skad! Some is uncharitable enough to think that he had a finger in this pie; but old Pow- ell hain’t lodged no complaint yit, and so they can’t hold the Tiger for nothing but resisting arrest. You see, he plum right into the arms of Pat Croghan, comin’ out of an al hE and as they went to together, Pat’s noddle had a round with a flagstone. It didn’t hurt the stone none, but it built an addition on the back of Pat’s head. He was as chipper as you please that night, but this morning he ain’t so lively, by afew. They'll hang onto the Tiger until they find out how he’s goin’ to turn out.” red passed on, and as he approached the bank discovered that his keys were not in his possession, He searched in every pocket, but they were not to be found. Then he returned to the boat-house, and from there to his home, but with no better success. Giving them up as lost, he again set out for the bank, unconscious of how much depended upon the posses- sion of them. The door was opened by Cecil, and Fred passed him by, with ill-concealed contempt. * Mr. Carrington stood erect in the middle of the room, his piercing eyes fixed immovably on Fred’s face. The father gazed sadly, wistfully on his son, noting the marks of recent dissipation. Fred saw the condemnation in their looks, and attributing it to displeasure at the dissipation of which he was ac- tually guilty, and knowing nothing of the blighting suspicion that hung over him, stood before them abashed, with hanging head and downcast 6 a ‘“‘Father, you wish to see me?” he said, in a low tone, and he looked a criminal on his defense, Slowly the frown on Mr. Carrington’s brow dark- ened, piercing gaze became more intense, his bearded lip quivered, and his hand closed over the head of his cane with a tighter gripe. The father gazed upon his boy with humid, bloodshot eyes, and said, in a tone that was almost a sob: * Where have you been, Frederick? We have been waiting for you over an hour.”’ The flush of shame ponpened on Fred Powell’s cheek and his head sunk lower, while a frown of self-hatred knit his brows. Then a look of reckless bravado came into his face. He raised his head, and said, with a swagger: “T don’t try to whitewash my conduct. I had too much to drink last night, and didn’t care to go home, so I slept in the club boat-house. I see it’s all out. I suppose that smooth-faced hypocrite yon- der has been spying upon me again.” Not the open avowal of degradation, nor yet the epiteful fling at Cecil, but the swagger in his man- ner and the ono word of slang in his first sentence set the blood to seething in the veins of old Mr. Car- rington. As it had never done with age, his tall form shook and swayed beneath the storm of indignation that threatened at every moment to burst forth. Cecil Beaumont could afford to forego the resent- ment of any sting from his writ victim; and though a flush of anger swept to the roots of his hair at the opprobrious epithet, he curbed his feelings and said, with an air of forbearance and misjudge friendship: ‘Mr. Powell, Ican overlook your insult, consider- ing the circumstances under which it is uttered. But, sir, i I mang since saw and deprecated our downward course, I refrained from interfering, ugh f of delicacy until your father came Susie that would being’ Toa ude Di entaaiete a wo you under % “Srop!” thundered Mr, Carri n, rising, with the majesty of righteous indignation and outraged forbearance. ‘“‘An honest man must not stand on his defense before such a knave! Where, sir, is your key to yonder door?” e old man towered aloft like nome 1ade ig spirit, the veins standing out on his foreh in knots, his eyes blazing, his snow-white beard quivering as_it rested on his breast, his arm outstretched and the long, vibrant finger pointing to the bank door. Me. Powell up and stretched out his hands, as if to avert the storm from the head of his son, For a moment Fred shrunk beneath the stinging Tesh of the old man’s rage. Then his eyes began to ’ his form to dilate, until he stood as erect, as haughty as his accuser, FP “Sir,” he said, gi him glance for glance, “I do not recognize your right to command me! ‘Frederick! erick!” cried his father, with clasped hands, ‘for God’s sake, produce the key! ‘Why should I produce it?” demanded the son, ‘*Do not ask me; but for the love of Heaven, give it to me—if you can /” , The last three words fell from the father’s lips like & wail of despair, : Understanding nothing of what lay beneath the in- tense excitement of those before him—bewildered, Tiger Dick, the Faro King. 15 touched by the wild agony of his father’s tones— Fred turned toward him with a look of wondering compassion, and there was a tremor of tenderness in his voice, as he said: “Father, 1 do not know why you ask me for the key in such a tone. But I cannot give it to you. It is not in my possession. I have lost it.’’ © ‘** Pah!” aspirated the old man, with a sneer of scathing contempt and incredulity. **Oh, God! he has not the key!” groaned the an- guished father. “Why do you ask me for the key? I tell you I have lostit. I had it last night, but this morning I cannot find it.” ‘** Boy! boy!’ cried the old man, white with wrath and indignation, ‘do not add lying and hypocrisy to your other crimes. If you are not prepared to make confession, do not hold out the plea of inno- cence—do not try to palm off upon us so shabby a pretext.” More and more bewildered, only beginning to realize vaguely that some terrible crime was imputed to him, outraged in feelings that the case should be prejudged and he be deemed guilty without the op- vortunity of a defense, Fred retorted with clenched fists, white lips and quivering nostrils: 5 “Old man, your gray hairs plead for you, eive should no consideration of relationship save you from the weight of my arm!” ‘Speak not of our relationship! The claim of con- sanguinity with such as you were a disgrace to the hangman! See! Irepudiate you, now and forever!” The old man made a gesture of royal disdain, as with a wave of his hand he severed the ties that had bound them. It was as if he cast from him some loathsome reptile. “T care nothing for your repudiation |"’ retorted Fred, with no falling off of spirit; ‘nor have I the faintest idea of what actuates you to such a step. But, whatever may be the crimes at which you so darkly hint, I declare that their imputation to me is false—utterly false!” This reiterated denial goaded the old man to a frenzy of pecenaeen, Leaning forward and beatin a tattoo with his extended forefinger on the d that lay upon the desk, he demanded, with blazing eyes: Me Frederick Powell, did you sign that draft?” Hedged in on every side by lowering clouds of sus- icion, expecting an attack from every quarter, ‘red gazed upon the draft in stupefaction. A wave of crimson surged to the roots of his hair; and the father seeing it, and interpreting it as the confusion of detected guilt, groaned aloud. Then it receded leaving him pale as death, with a leaden about his lips. Shrinking a step backward, and sti gezing upon the paper, as if with fascination, he said, in a bewildered, frightened voice: ‘“‘T—sign—that—draft? Ido not understand you? What do you mean?” ““Look at him!’ cried the old man, in a ing voice. ‘It is proved as clear as day | And yet he stands here before us, with the face of an angel of innocence, save for the pallor of confounded guilt, and says: ‘I—sign—that—draft? I do not under- stand you. What do you mean?’ Ah! you are dull of comprehension !"’ ‘ The stinging, incisive sarcasm of the old man was emphasized by his leaning forward and s is silver locks, as he hurled these bitter words at his grandson. To Fred, it seemed as if he were being drawn steadily, irresistibly, into a maelstrom of suspicion. He turned to his father with a wild appeal. ‘* Father! father! what is this?’’ - iin by any, hoy) my poor, poor boy!” groaned the istracted parent. ‘‘ Believe me, father, I am innocent!” cried Fred, with tears of despair in his eyes. ‘Prove it, Frederick—prove it!’’ “How can I? I know not of what Iam accused.” “Oh, saintly innocence!—infantile ignorance!” sneered the old man, Fred turned upon him as if stung. ‘* What is my crime?” he demanded. ‘““What is your crime?’’ repeated Mr. perimeters and drawing a deep breath, and summoni the energies of his nature, he thundered at his grand- son the words: “ Drunkenness-—gambling—forgery —complicity in plundering the father who gave you being! I say nothing of crimes that the law does not reach, but a e oe acer epee 4 Sg ac- t—base treachery an are ude, an persis- tent. effrontery of falsehood thout parallel! Stunned by this arraignment, Fred reeled back- leaned against a desk, eee .< in ere the wretched father, ‘I have forgiven you all—all but the ingratitude! ons I ever oe ied vet anything that was for your good? Had you come to me, I would have doled out my blood, drop by drop, to secure your happiness. And now to have you turn upon me—oh, God ‘< “Pather! father!” pleaded the son, with out- stretched hands. But he waved him off. “Go, boy, go! I cannot bear to look Spee you!” At that, Fred drooped, as under a blight. ~ “ And , even May, believes me guilty! I saw it in her face!” he said, in a husky voice. And then, blinded with tears, and with an awful look of Sy in his face, Fred Powell groped his way to the bank door and passed out and down the street, he knew not, nor cared, whither. Cecil Beaumont turned and followed him with his eyes. Outwardly, he was grieved to the soul; but beneath the mask, the laughing devil capered and gibed in frantic glee. As the door closed upon the bowed form of the uteast son, all the iron of Harold Carrington’s na- ture melted away; and ben until his head rested upon the shoulder of the cken father, and his arm lay slong hig nee ae while his own voice qua- vered and broke, he said: “Bear up John; bear up. We have shouldered many a burden together; and we can bear this be- tween us, can’t we?” CHAPTER XIII. HOW SHE TRUSTED HIM. Wuen Fred Powellleft the presence of his father it was with a feeling of stunned, dizzy bewilderment. Then a chilling sense of awful desolation settled down upon him, enveloping him like a cloud, With- Sa» eel wees 2 1a 2. 2 See es es == —~- Tr out purpose, he plunged into the ebb and flow of the bustling street, instinctively seeking that relief which the burdened spirtt finds in physical activity. People whom he passed turned to look again at his white face and wild air; but he was so much en- Peg by the flery tumult within, that he did not 1eed_ them, until one stopped and slapped him on the shoulder, as he was about to pass on. “Hallo, Fred!” cried the voice of Billy Saunder- son; ‘what's the row? Demmy, if you don’t look like a three days’ corpse, acting as chief meurner at its own funeral, Gads, man, you've got a face on you to frighten children into saying their prayers twice a day, reg’lar. Come and have something to tone up your nerves,”’ “No, no, Saunderson; nothing for me,” said Fred, with a shudder; and with a hurried ‘‘ Good-morn- ing,” he passed on. ‘: Now, if I’m any judge of beauty,’ mused the decoy duck,” following Fred with his eyes, ‘the false key that is supposed to have admitted the bur- glars, is none other than the key that so mysteriously disappeared from the possession of William Saun- derson, book-keeper, on the same eventful evening. But what makes the gentle Freddy look like the ghost of Hamlet, or like a candidate for a lunatic asylum ?—that’s what I want to know, Well, any way, I've got a 3 yrange 3 if not a silver lining to my ae so—‘ Up in a balloon, boys, up in a bal: oon And he went whistling down the street. After that, Fred caught the curious eyes fixed up- on him; and with an awful haunted feeling, as if his degradation, emblazoned on his forehead, diew the finger of scorn from ah quarter, he fled from his fellow-men, out of the thronged thoroughfares, to the quiet streets of the suburbs, and then on to the deserted country road, bordered here by umbrage- ous woods, and there by waving grain, or tasseled maize, flashing back the sunlight from its thousand lances; and, seen through breaks in the timber that followed the watercourse, the broad stretch of level a So dotted with farmhouses; and beyond all, e hills, looming blue in the distance. Instinctively he avoided his heme, and passed on, until he found himself in the vicinity of her who was dearest on earth to him, Then, with a shudder, he lunged into the depths of the wood, taking a path hat carried him on beyond, and finally emerging up- on the river- Here he threw himself down, and gave himself up to moody thought. Presently there were sounds of horse's feet, com- ing down the road at a canter. They stopped sud- denly, ofecene the spot where he lay. Then they entered the grove that divided the road from the stream, and drew up at his side. A light form slid from the saddle and crouched at his side, and girlish eyes looked into his with a glad smile. He was £0 abstracted that he did not ‘eed her, un- til she sunk at his side, and clasping his arm with her hands, looked up into his face. en he started violently. “Florence !”’ Instantly all the bright happiness died out of her ate to pale e face, to give place ty. “6 Fred, dear Fred, what is the matter?” she cried, earnestly. A cf pain shot through his heart, as he turned away his face. x Nothing Florence—nothing,’’ he said. He was ig She will doubt me, like the rest.”’ ‘*But, dear, there is—there must be,” she persist- ed, in a tremulous voice. She took hold of his other shoulder and drew him she could look into his downcast, pain- distorted face. The neqeera cheeks and hollow eyes, with dark rings about them, pierced her to the heart; and with her cheek against his arm and her tearful eyes reading his face, she panted: “Tell me!—tell me!” With infinite longing he Gared into the face that looked so lovingly, pleadingly into his. Then with a sudden burst he caught her to his heart. ed, ‘do you love me—really— , chill your affection—shake your “Fred, what a question !"’ she exclaimed, in bewil- : Cpr gett’ trust utterly?’ h “Do you trust me y?’ he went on, with in- heat. ‘Would you believe in me, though all the world should turn against me—father, sis- ter, all? Could you stand a side in prison— on the very old—and while all around were hurling jeers of hatred and contempt at me, could eee eee in mine and say, ‘1 know at you are innocent? I love—I trust you more than ever’?”’ “Fred! Fred!” she cried, nee to him, “* are bok Oh, tell me what terri mihi has i “Savi? he re unconscio shakin os oe excitemen “do you love me—trust mitts His passion calmed her. She saw that frantic for this assurance which he skids Reet * with hea’ bosom, and face irradiated with such a love as @ woman can f on elther should pith toneeh ale ’ a around, until er, and holding mart azing straight into his eyes, said: erick, I love you _—— than a sister, more trust my God Godt than a mother! I trust you as I vith a ulous cry of ecstasy, he caught her to his heart again, and clasp xf dloberen:if be would ky her body into his, he murmured: Oh, if I could take you ee one ewe rae ye never know—where you co never “It will make no difference. I shall never believe are wronged’: My laced avait against mil da ve a can be brought upon you.” . “Did not oi ee ge ove me? And yet she covered her face with her hands and was silent. Did not my father love me? You should have seen him writhe and quail beneath the cruel conviction that forced itself upon him. It cut me to the soul to hear his heartbroken yoice and see his head bowed in an- er when he spoke of my ingratitude. He could orgive me all—all—but his wounded love. Yet when I said, ‘Iam innocent!’ he turned away and said, ‘Go—go! I cannot bear to look upon you!’ Both loved me, yet both doubted me.” | “But I will not! Oh, believe me, my darling, I Gomicbooks.com