Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 302 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

~~ - Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules. “IT will go with you. At the worst you can only kill me—and death is preferable to what I have undergone during tke last forty- eight hours.” ‘* Now you show your good sense!” said Saul, with a smile and a.nod of approval. ‘'I don’t want to treat you too harshly, but I’ve gut my points to make, and I would an arrant fool as well as a mighty poor gambler were I to throw away asingle trump. Toshow you how sincere | am—see!” Stooping over the desk he wrote rapidly for a few moments, then handed the slip of paper to the mine-owner. ‘* Read that, sign it, seal it up and direct it as seems wisest to you. Leave it here, or give it toany person you choose, bidding them open and act on its contents should you not reclaim it ata certain time—any bour after midnight.” At a single glance Marcus Tudor read the words: **Tam going on a short trip with Saul Oberlin. It may be that evil is intended, that I may be decoyed tomy death, If I should not be at home at nine o’clock to-morrow morning, I will be a dead and I charge Saul Oberlin with murdering me,’ ‘‘ Tf that is not sufficiently plain, write a note yourself in terms to suit, sign, seal and leave it where or with whom you choose,” Saul sug- gested, Without a word in reply, Marcus Tudor sat down and wrote rapidly for a few moments. Placing the paper in an envelope, he closed anil sealed it with bis signet ring. Placing this in his breast, he picked up his hat and said: ‘+ Load the way. and I will follow. Find Mr. Whistler before you take me to where—to the place you spoke of.” Saul bowed, then led the way through the open window and toward the town, The night was just settling over Good Enough, Lights were springing up in every direction, and the miners were beginning to roam about the place after their 1 ‘* At this hour, Billy Whistler will be seated on the veranda of the botel, smoking a cigar after bis grub,” remarked the gambler, lightly. “Or, if there is any otber gentleman with whom you would prefer to leave that bottled lightning, you have only to say the word,” ‘*Mr. Whistler will serve my purpose,” re- ae Marcus Tudor, ou whom the repeated raughts of brandy had worked a beneficial effect, : “Just as yousay, Itisoniy an empty form, of course; but if it will ease your mind in the least, that is reason enough for taking the use- less precaution,” added Saul. True to his prediction, Mr. Billy Whistler was discovered infront of the hotel, his feet propped high against a post, his rusty plug hat pulled far over his eyes, lazily enjoying the umes of a not over-choice cigar. With equal truth, Saul Oberlin bad said that there was no love lost between the genial Billy and himself, and the moment bis approach was discovered, the former dropped his feet to the ‘floor, pushed back chair and hat, one hand dropping to the polished butt of a revolver at his hip, ready for business sbould such be on tthe docket. The Handsome Hercules showed his teeth as he noticed these warlike precautions, but it was only in a lazy, indifferent smile as he placidly “uttered: ‘‘Not this evening, Billy; some other even- ing!” ** Whenever you choose,” was the cool retort. “‘T'm easily found, and when found, always to business.”’ ‘‘Glad to hear it, for, if I mistake not, my ‘friend, Mr. Tudor, has a word or two to say to you, on business.” ‘*T will not detain you long, Mr. Whistler,” ‘hurriedly uttered the mine-owner. ‘‘As you know, my affairs have been all upset by the sad accident which has overtaken my business manager, and for that reason I have failed to live up to our agreement.” s same reason prevented me from calling on = at the pegs time, my dear sir, politely ee the other. ‘I felt sure you ‘would not feel like completing a trade, under the circumstances, so concluded to wait until ou sent me word. Your own time will suit me, it now or next week.” “ To-morrow, then, at nine o'clock, at my thouse. And, by the way, may I trouble you ‘to take charge of this paper? It is of impor- tance, andany great delay might be fatal to the ‘business it coricerns, If 1 am absent from the appointment just made, will you oblige me by opening the envelope and acting promptly on ‘its contents?’ ‘With pleasure,” bowed the other, taking ‘the paper, though there was an air of perplexity ‘in movements which he was unable to en- my disguise. ‘It may possibly be of service to you, in such an emergency, Mr. Whistler, to bear in mind ‘that our mutual friend was taking a little walk in my company this evening,” said the gambler with refreshing candor. ‘‘T’ll remember, never fear,” with a shar man, - nod that spoke far more than bis mere words ntained. co | Cc Ol oor ee. .:20.nXxX =: nn ae ‘* At nine o’clock to-morrow morning, if you please, Mr. Whistler,” repeated the mine-owner. ‘I will be there as the clock strikes, never fear.” . Bowing, the two men turned aways Billy Whistler watching them with a wondering light in his big blue eyes. There was something so curious and out of the ordinary run in the whole transaction, that he wasstrongly tempted to follow them and see what it resulted in; but then Billy remembered that he was a gentleman, and carefully placing the envelops in bis breast-pocket, be resumed his chair and his smoke, ‘‘ Are you satisfied now?’ asked Faro Saul, when they were fairly beyond earshot of the man on the veranda. ‘*Tbhat you do not mean murder, yes,” was the deliberate respouse. ‘‘ That you have some treacherous end in view, yes, again.” ‘*Whatever I may have in view, be sure I mean to carry it out to complete success,” was the cool retort. Marcus Tudor made no reply, and no further words passed between them until after they gained a small house which the mine-owner knew bad been until very recently unoccupied, its owner having met with an accidental death in one of the mines, Saul rapped softly at the front door, which almost immediately swung open, as though the visit was anticipated. No person was visible, keenly as the mine- owner looked, nor was there the sign of a light about the premises, and a cold thrill ran over his person as the Faro Prince muttered: ‘Shall I lead, or follow? Takeo your choice,” teeling bis shaken nerves as best he could, Marcus Tudor crossed the threshold, Saul im- mediately followed, and the door swung shut behind them with asharp click that told of a spring lock. At this sound, all the fears and suspicions of the haunted ms a ret rned, and with a little cry be shrunk back only to feel the steel grip of tue Giant Gambler on bis ** Be quiet!” came his voice, bissingly for you to be afraid of, as is nothio lence, and wait!’ et “yi “ ‘‘Weleome to my house, Waldo St. John!” uttered a voice from the darkness; a voice sweet, mellow, pleasing in its cadence, but which sounded to the mine-owner more terrible than the bitterest curse! Soni tS hy The next moment a faint light flickered and sputtered, then grew into distinctness as it was applied to a lamp. And standing beside the light, Marcus Tudor beheld the black-robed fig- ure of the vailed woman whose appearance an hour or two earlier had given bim such a stun- ning shock. | The dim light now fell athwart her face; a face pale as that of a corpse, Jined and haggard, until it seemed that of a woman past the prime of life, yet retaining traces of more mon beauty. Her eyes were dark, a steadily into his face from their st (q* 4 * It was the ghost of the past, Though tbe resemblance did not seem nearly as strong as it had when he first saw her thro the open window, Marcus Tudor could not deny it. ‘“ You, Althea—or your ghost?’ he gasped, shrinking from that steady gaze, trembling in every limb. ‘Can the grave give up its dead before the Day of Judgment?” . ‘* Not dead, but living, Waldo St. Jobn,” said that same cold, stern, yet musical voice. “I ain your wife, whom you tried to murder, long ears ago. What Il bave suffered during that ong, dreary period, pray that you may never know !” ‘* Althea, alive—not dead? It cannot be!” ‘‘Lam alive, come to you to say—peace or war, St. John?” ‘*Peace? I’ve never known that since I first met you!” CHAPTER XVI. QUEEN TITANIA LIFTS HER MASK. SLOWLY, heavily, bis lids partially unclosed. Like one still ina dream he gazed sround bim as far as he could without bending his neck. To do that, it seemed as though he bad neither the power nor the inclination. So far as his limited rangd of vision extend- ed, all was of a somber black, dimly lighted up by some, as vet, invisible torch or lamp. From floor to ceiling, and even stretched across the latter, the drapery reached; and as his eyes me- chanically drooped, they saw that the floor was also covered with the dismal, luguirious ma- terial. And in it all there was not a trace of color to break the depressing monotony. Though the hangings seerm.ed to slowly move at times, with the peculiar, tremulous waves which one sees in a field of green when a gentle breeze is blowing, not a sound, not the faintest breath of fresh air came to the nostrils of the man who lay back in his chair, motionless, save for his slightly opened eyes, as though death bad already claimed him for its victim. A few moments thus; then the eyes opened more widely, a faint tinge of color came into the ghastly-pale face, and a barely perceptible shiver crept over his figure. Then—so low and faint as to seem more like breatbings than words, he muttered: ‘*Where am 1? Is this death, and the grave? How came I here? What has happened? The faint muttering ceased, as though even this much of exertion bad exhausted the death- like man. But it was only in outward seeming. With the passage of each instant, strength and memory werereturning tobim. Tbe misty cloud which overnung the past, was lifting, and in- stead of that duil, listless air, his eyes were be- ginning to glow and sparkle as they roved more rapidly around bim. esaw a long, narrow mound in one corner of the black-draped apartment, but could not define it acevrately, since the same sable cover- ing hid its details from scrutiny, ‘Ha! I remember now! The devil lied! I did not die! I still live!’ came from his lips with startling distinctness as he made an effort to leap to bis feet. But the chair to which he was bound resisted his struggle, and a cold, mocking laugh which just then echoed through the chamber, caused him to desist, And then, parting the sable curtains, a me-, dium-sized figure stepped into view. A black mask covered its face. A blouse served to dis- guise tbe shape of the body, and the hands were incased in gloves. ‘‘Welcome back to earth, Frank Deck- wright!” uttered the masked man, with a jeer- ing, mocking cadence to his voice that was only too familiar to the ears of the now thoroughly awakened captive. ‘* Deckwright be durned, ye p’izen scallawag! Let up on your callin’ me out 0’ my name, or when I git my flippers free ag’in I'll make ye think John L. hes drapped down onto ye fer a boly picnic,” ‘* You still persist in thatstubborn folly? You will deny that your name is Frank Deckwright, of St. Louis?” ‘* Waal, ef you ain’t looney, then you're the durn’dest fool 1 ever see!” snorted the prisoner, in tones of utter disgust. ‘‘Think a white man don’t know hisown name best?’ ‘‘ He had ought to, but the tongue does not al- ways say what the mind knows. To give you one more chance, you bave been reprieved from the grave, which already yawns for you. If you are stubborn, you will enter it alive! If you prove tractable, and your judges can see their way clearly tosuch an act of clemency, you may even be saved altogether. At least you will be dead before you enter the tomb.” ‘* Mighty kind an’ ’siderate, ain’t ye?’ with a feeble grin. ** Considering the many black marks which are placed opposite your name on our records, I may say Lam. And now tobusiness, Remem- ber the penalty of ying. Whoare you! What is your name? Why did you come to Good Enough in disguise? Who are the persons you are hunting down to death?’ ‘*T’'m Old Pap Weatuerwax. I’m a ramblin’ rack-about, whose body goes pretty much whar his legs choose to kerry it. Icame bere ’ca’se [ didn’t go nowhar else jest at this time. An’ you don’t need to go into mournin’ fer them as | bunt down to death, ’less you’re a ‘lation to fleas or gray backs.” ‘You are willing to take an oath that you are the man you claim? You would swear to this on the Bible?” ‘““Ef you kin hold one sech out, an’ it don’t raise a holy blister onto your claws, I reckon J could take oath to the tallest lie mortal man ever ’vented, an’ never faze a ha’r!” was the grim retort. With a malicious laugh, the man in the mask stepped closer to bis prisoner, saying: o ortunstely I have a more thorough test than that. A man of your profession feeds on lies, false oaths and perjury. You would hardly scruple to add one more item to the long cata- logue. But—behold !” As he spoke, the masked man suddenly re- moved a wig and pair of false whiskers from the prisoner, leaving his face bare and fully re- vealed, Dropping the mass of shaggy hair, he beld in one band a pbctograph, in the otber a small mirror, thrusting both directly before the eyesof theancient. — ‘‘ Look at one, then into the other!” he cried, triumph in his every tone. ‘‘Dare you swear now that you are vot— Death and the devil!” “TI on’y wish I was!” coolly retorted the risoner, seemingly taking that fierce, baffled imprecation for the leyitimate ending to the query. ‘Either way I'd ram-jam some good hoss sense into your cabeza, or bu’st it wide open in tryin’!” The masked man started back, dropping both photograph and mirror, staring at the face of the prisoner as though a death’s-head bad sud- denly risen before him, And little wonder! The voice, the figure, the dress—all was the same: but the face from which he lifted the cunning disguise was altogetber different—was that of a man whom be had never seen before! This. or else it was truly the work of the foul fiend! ‘Sit o’ fickness tuck ye, I reckon?” chuckled the prisoner, in a tone of mock sympathy, “Takes the shape of a cholery mortgage, don’t GOME cS ICO “rere