Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 306 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

The Roughs of Richm we “pe, —— ————e krown in this community and Baltimore and may have many friends that I do not know of. All, no doubt, would like to attend.” ** A very sad affair, madame.” “* Very sad.” Erminie listened with an inexplicable feel- ing. Ps ag mother seems’ very indifferent,” she thought. At this juncture there was another peal at the bell, Mrs. Fenwick herself answered. The comer was the girl, Plura. ‘* You attended to my message?” ‘* Yes, madam.” ‘*'You may retire, Plura.” The girl ascended the stairs to ber bed, but it was doubtful, Mrs, Fenwick saw, whether she went for the purpose of sleep, for she called, eared after her: “Il can dispense with your services to-night, Plura, and see that you confine yourself to your room until summoned.” ‘* Yes, madam.” At the moment that the girl left the vicinity of the rear parlor, Mrs, Fenwick said to the un- dertaker: ‘*-You will excuse me from being present. I cannot witness your work.” ‘* Certainly, madame, and shall really esteem it a favor if you will leave us to ourselves for a short time.” And he added, in an undertone that even his subordinates did not overhear: ‘*Singular woman that. She doesn’t seem to take it very hard—this bringing home of 4 bus- band dead, and nobody knowing how he was killed.” Mrs. Fenwick retired to ber own private sit- ting room ih thesecond story. ot the faintest trace of a tear was there in her brilliant brown eyes. ‘Tt is singular,” she murmured aloud, * that Plura should have delivered the message and there is yet no answer to the note I sent to de- tective bead-quarters. They are generally more punctual in Richmond than in most cities over such affairs; and I explained that there had been a man killed, by means that were in my mind foul, and not by natural causes,” * And that ts precisely my opinion madame !” A low, sharp ery escaped the lips of Mathilde Fenwick at the interruption by an unknown and unexpected voice. She sprung from the easy-chair into which she had cast herself and darted a frightened glance around her. Not five feet distant stood a man whose ap- pearance was ao Not above four and a half feet in hight, with a strangely white face and an enormous black mustache, whicb, with his black and keen eyes, seemed to rivet the beholder with an idea that he was a painted object more likely than a human being. ‘* Who are you, sir?” ** ‘Your humble servant.” “That means nothing. How came you to be in my rooms?’ “Take a look at me. Ha, ha! Well, I cannot exactly go through a keyhole, but I am here, and the trellis outside your window, madame has afforded me ample means for ascending. I am here. And I wish to have a word with you if you please. My nameis Alvaro Mandez. am the Master of the Golden Beetle !” At the utterance tha woman gave acry that interrupted him. Hé raised his brows, something, madame.” ‘“You are mistaken. [am startled at noth- ing. What do you want here in my house?” “T bring a message from the Order of the Golden Beetle,” **Give it me.” Instantly her composure returned. The man handed to her a paper. _ As she proceeded to tear it open and read it, uis eyes, like the eyes of a serpent, were fixed upon her steadily. The next moment she said, commandingly: ‘* Begone by the way you came.” “Turn your head, if you please.” ‘* Why should I turn my head?” ** Do as I request, or I shall remain here until ‘the arrival of the detective for whom you have sent. She averted her head. ‘** At least he is right,” passed in her brain. ‘You are startled at . “*He does not wish that I shall be able to give any information of his comings and goings.” And she called, guardedly, after a moment: ** Are you gone, Alvaro?” At the moment that Mrs. Fenwick thus re- ceived in a manner mysterious to herself a visi- tor who brought her a message, there was an unobserved figure at the landing above who looked, by leaping over the banisters, into the gitting-room., Erminie Fenwick! And she saw the man who had addressed her mother, when the latter had turned her head, disappear over the iron-work at the window at the further side of the room, beyond which was a thick growth of ivy. : Involuntarily into the girl’s mind came the thought that something very mysterious was transpiring within her home. And while sbe looked and wondered, there came another summons at the front door. Fora third time, Mrs, Fenwick herself an- swered, The comer was the detective. ‘* You'sent for me, I believe.” ‘*Is your name Joseph Call?” ‘*That is my name,’ The comer had recognized immediately that re, lady of the house herself had opened the oor. ‘Step inside, please; I want a few moments’ conversation with you.” She led the way into the front parlor, where a light burned, and pau:ed, before saying any- thing, to see whcther the folding doors between the front and back rooms were tightly shut. ‘You are a detective?” ‘*My name is Joseph Call, madame, I pre- sumed, by your sending for me, that you were aware of my profession before sending. You are Mrs. Fenwick, of course?” ‘*T am that person. I have a case for you.” ** Please state it.” ‘**T ask that you will talk lowly, because there are Other persons in the back room—the under- taker.” **The undertaker?” “Yes, who is to prepare my husband for burial. I wanted you for the object of finding out who has killed my husband. He has been murdered, I have not the slightest doubt, You detectives can find out ’most everything, can you not?” ** Perhaps.” ** And Jo Call asked: ‘“ What is your husband’s name, and will you please give me what points you can, madame, without my putting any further questions?” **T will do so. My husband was brought home a short time ago— that is, this evening within the hour—dead. By papers alone which were fortunately found on bis person, he was identified, 1 wish to find his murderers.” ** You think he was murdered?” ‘* Undoubtedly.” ‘* Where is the body?” ** Must you see it?” ac Yes.” ‘Come with me, then, and after you have viewed it, I will tell you all I can in regard to his movements, That is what you principally desire, is it not?’ She arose and started to lead the way to the rear room where the undertaker and his assis- tants were busy. Jo Call was very small, both in body and head—a dwarf, if such a thing can be possible among the wonderful detectives who have been developed among the detectives of detective story romance of late years, Hardly more than four and a half feet in hight, be seemed a rather slender specimen to cope with roughs and rowdies and greater crim- inals; yet Jo Call had a reputation among the craft which had placed him foremost with those of the private detective agencies which had diame up since the war in the Virginia i they passed from the front parlor to the rear, be asked: ‘*The name, please?” ** Fenwick, hy, I thought everybody in Richmond knew who my husband was and where he lived,”’ ‘“‘True, madame, and pardon me. But the body.” ; In the rear room the intrusion of Mrs. Fen- wick and ber unknown visitor was looked upon as an inexcusable breaking up of the business of the undertaker and bis arrangements, But Call merely exhibited his badge and made the remark: ‘“*You are of course aware, sir, that this corpse cannot be buried, under the circum- stances, without the inquest, Please let me bave a look at it fora moment, Mrs. Fenwick, will yau stand aside for a moment while I take that look?” Jo Call stepped forward to the pallet and laid his hand, the first thing, upon the back part of Dorsey Fenwick’s head behind the ear, Instantly upon doing so, he exclaimed: ‘“* T thought so!” “What did you think?’ put Mrs, Fenwick, who stood at the door. “The same process,” ** What process?” “The process that is and has been used by The Roughs of Richmond for a long while.” ** What do you mean, sir?” : ‘Your husband has been murdered, as you at first supposed. But there will be a doubt whether be was murdered purposely or not. He has been killed by a gang—a very formid- able gang—which is known to us detectives and to the police as The Roughs of Richmond. Ib was originally organized by some of Imboden’s outcasts—a set that every true Southerner to-day despises—and has even degenerated into worse than it was, accumulating the outcast thieves of both the Northern cities and the uthern cities, until it would be a blessing if we could only get upon the track of them.” ** But is not that your business?” ‘* It is, madame,” ‘‘[ want you to find the murderers of my husband,” and she added, emphatically: ‘‘Wind for me the man or men who killed Dorsey Fenwick, and I will pay you five thou- sand dollars!” Jo Call’s eyes glistened, ** You make that offer, madame?” e I do,” ‘‘Then depend upon it, he, or they, shall be found, Where was your husband—or where was he going—before this thing happened? | shall ask for no more information than that,” CHAPTER III, THE ELECTRIC PISTOL. THE undertaker and bis assistants bad re- mained silent listeners to the conversation be- tween Mrs. Fenwick and the detective. She said, ** | would like to know how you were aware of my busband having been killed by a gang known, as you say, as The Roughs of Ricbmund. What did you discover when you were feeling of his head?” ‘‘Tf you will kindly lead the way, madame, to aroom where we may talk privately, I will answer your question.” Sbe immediately turned and left the apart- ment, followed by Jo Call; and the undertaker resumed his task with the dead body. In an adjoining room, and witbout seating herself or inviting the detective to do so, Mrs, Fenwick said: ‘* There can be no listeners here, sir,” ** You saw me feeling the back part of your husband’s bead?” ‘* Yes,” ‘* Since it bas been discovered that there is an organized gang in the city of Richmond known by the title I bave mentioned, it has also been ascertained that their victims, every one, have been assaulted in the same manner as your busband—by an electric pistol!” ** An electric pistol!” ‘Yes. This weapon is a peculiar thing; one bas fallen into the hands of the police authori- ties, but its action, or the manner of making it available, isa complete mystery. Only those who have been instructed in its use can utilize it. Enough bas been learned of it, however, to show that it issomething on the plan of the electric tube which is now so popular for the lighting of gas-burners; you press a thumb- piece and the diseharge follows. The wound inflicted by the weapon is not such a wound as a bullet would make; a ball of fire evidently, darts from the tube, striking the victim and causing either death or insensibility. In your husband’s case the result was death, The mark of the stroke is simply a raised lump upon the skin on the neck at the base of the skull, or where the spinal column joins the skull. That is all I can inform you of ee it; but you see, [ know who killed your husband—that fa I know tbe source, indefinitely, of bis death, I shall accept your offer to bunt down the mur- derer, And now will you please answer a few questions?” { ‘‘ Certainly,” she replied, ercHarag from the rapt attention which she had given to his phenomenal account of the electric pistol. ‘ Anything that Ican do to facilitate your labor in the trailing down of the murderer of Dorsey Fenwick, I will be only too glad to do,” ‘“Where was your husband going upon his last departure from home?” ‘To Manchester.” ‘Ah! That shows that the gang are, or have been, operating in the vicinity of the bridge,” Call mused, aloud, as if to himself. Then he asked: ‘* Had he any money about him?” ‘* Not to my knowledge,” “Strange, then”—again to himself, as he looked down at the floor meditatively. ‘There must have been an object of deliberate murder, then. Had he any enemies?” ; ‘*T am sure, none.” “Stranger still. I think I will see the cap- tain of police first thing. I will call upon you again, madame.” . When he had gone, Mrs, Fenwick started up the stairs. 6 ‘‘ Noone knows—no one suspects. I am safe!” fell from her lips. ‘‘ And the treacherous Golden Beetle must take the blame if anything transpires to make it necessary for me to relate my inmost knowledge of Dorsey Fenwick’s af- airs. At the landing she paused to glance around, “‘T thought Erminie would have waited to hear the story of the Golden Beetle,” she mur- mured. ‘‘ Where can the child be?” Erminie would always be a child to this strangely beautiful mother; but no child was she At that very moment she was doing some- thing which would have for some deep reason alarmed her mother. Jo Call had not taken more than a dozen steps along the pavement when a female figure glided forward from the shadow of the gate to the garden and paused before him in the moon- ight. . EOMmiIchbooks. co m