Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 332 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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+. 4 ) mm he felt low in spirits, and began to think seri- ously over what he should do. Sprine-Heel Jack. ‘It is impossible,” he said, ‘that a person who is an entire stranger to me and my fam- His money was nearly gone, and he had the uy can know so much as you pretend, sir.” additional anxiety that General Reid must soon find out how r he was, and be inclined to turn him out of the place he occupied in the old officer’s intimacy. - It was while he was thinking what to do, that he heard a tap at the door, and Spring put in his head to say: ‘“‘ There’s a gent wants to see your honor,” ‘‘ Let him come in,” said George, indifferently. The door opened, and a tall, dark gentleman came in, and vowed to him, with a stately polite- ness that showed he came from good society, The tall gentleman was very dark indeed, and had a keen, eagle-like face, that made George sure he must be a foreigner. He was dressed in black velvet, asif in mourn- ing, in the fashion of those days, and wore a sword, to show that he was a gentleman entitled to bear arms, ’ He had a cocked hat in his hand, and this he waved with a flourish, as he said, in a soft and very melodious voice: ‘“T did myself the honor to call to-day. My name is Ram Mandana.” George stared. The name was a singulay one, such as he had never heard before. The visitor remarked his air of astonishment, and added: “T come from India. My name is not a fa- miliar one to you, I perceive; but it is not more singular to you than your name would be in my country. Then George remembered his politeness, and rose to hand his visitor a chair, as he said: ‘‘ Pardon me for appearing rude, but I had no such intention. I am glad to see you, sir, and hope that you will tell me to what I am indebted for the honor of this visit.” Ram Mandana took the proffered seat, and smiled as he answered: ‘*T have come to see you because I am inter- ested in you. You have a strange history, al- though you do not know it yet.” “My ry is, I fear, not so strange as it is common and unhappy,” said George, gloomily. ‘“T am young and—’ “Poor,” interrupted his visitor. ‘‘ That is ust it. You were thinking, when I came in, ow you should be able to keep the wolf from door.” George stared at his visitor. ‘‘How did you know my thoughts?” he asked, Ram Mandana smiled again, ‘““T know many things that would astonish you,” he said, =v ‘For instance, I know that you have been hunting for a long time for a person who has been frightening all the good people in London, and you are no nearer than hog were when you began to any discovery of truth George looked earnestly at his visitor. ‘*Do you know anything about him, then?” ‘That isnot for me to say. But I can tell you that it is a matter of little importance to ou to know. There are things of vastly more than that. One of themis what you are, to-day.” red was puzzled at his tone. ‘What I am, to-day?” he repeated, ‘‘ What has that. to do with Spring-Heel Jack? That is the m ga on solving.” when you solve it, you will be sorry that you ever tried to do it,” returned Ram Mandana, earnestly. *‘ Young man, do you know who you are now, or not?” ‘““Who Iam? Why, of course I do, I am george Howard, lieutenant in the Coldstream S. Ram Mandana leaned forward to say: ‘You are wrong. You are the e of Nor- folk. The oll duke died this morning, not half an hour ago, and the title is yours.” George started violently. ‘“ How do you know this?” he cried. Man answ : ‘“ Because I saw his dead face. He lies in his chair, in the library, and there is no one in the room yet, His servants think him asleep, and do not dare to disturb him.” “Then how did you get in to see him?” He asked the question, not knowing what else to say, and strongly believing that his visitor was & Maniac, , Ram Mandana smiled, and said, as if he were answering the thoughts in the mind of the young man, unuttered as they were: “Fou are mistaken. I am not mad. If you will go there, you will see what I have said. I came to tell you the news, and to warn you that it will do you no good,’ ‘¢ What do you mean?” again asked George. ‘“T mean that the duke, last night, signed a will by which he left his property to your brother, so that you cannot take up the title, un- you are content to be known as the ‘ pauper less duke,” or marry an heiress, who will wed you for sake of being called a duchess,” said Ram Mandana, in the most common-place way in the world, as if he were telling an ordinary piece ef news, at which no one need be sur- But George was net only surprised, but in- aigtilocs abil bs oath 98: yaa —— ee ee rr Te LL LL ee 1 Mandana waved his hand gravely. ‘*T came here on an errand of friendship to | ain’t u you, young man,” he said. ‘*Do not turn my feeling into dislike, and compel me to leave you. George was struck by the tone he used, and his heart smote him for having been rude. ‘*T had no intention of being uncivil, sir,” he said, ‘‘ but you must confess that your news is so strange, and that the fact of your being an entire stranger to me makes the communication so extraordinary, not to say suspicious—” ‘*That, in short, you are inclined to believe that Iam telling a falsehood,” said Ram Man- dana, eying him mildly, and with no visible sign of ill-temper. George hesitated. ‘‘ Nay, hardly that, but I find it hard to be- lieve but what you may be mistaken,” he said, ‘Young man,” said the Hindoo gravely, ‘'I am never mistaken, when I tell your have seen athing. Listen. You have never been in In- dia, or you would know that there are adepts there, who can leave the body, after a long pro- bation, and penetrate the secrets of the uni- verse. Iam of that privileged order. Listen again. Afew days ago, men came to me, in the style of the overfed Briton who lords it over seerits to ae out pa a who > a that tates rrifying the people of this city. ew nothi of the man, and told them so, but they insisted that I must, and I had to turn them out of my house at last. When they were gone, their questa remained with me, and I resolved to d out for myyeelt who was this person, that has so long defied the police and the soldiers and every one who has come after him. I wen to my chamber. In the course of my studies, I found that you were closely intertwined with this man, and that the Duke of Norfolk was also implicated with him. Then I thought I would go and see the Duke himself, and ask him what was the reason of this. I went at once, and came into his chamber, without asking his servants.” ‘* But how did you get there?” asked George in astupor of amazement. ‘‘ The men would a let you in, without all sorts of formali- ies. Ram Mandana waved his hand, ‘*T went there without their seeing me. No matter how. Enough that Idid it. I found the duke dead in his chair, as I tell you, and if you wish to secure the will of which I spoke, and be the duke in fact, as well as name, you will find it in the drawer of the desk, that stands by the side of the dead body.” George Howard stared at Ram Mandana, in- credulously. ‘*T cannot believe but I must be dreaming. Are you sure of what you say?” ‘*T have told you, and if you do not choose to take advantage of what I intrust to you, seas to defeat the plot that has been made to deprive you of your ritance, it will prove that you are not worthy to be the duke,” said the Hindoo quietly. ‘' Look out of that window, and tell me if that isnot your brother that is coming hither?” } George turned to. the window to look out. ** No,” he said, turning round. And then to his unutterable amazement Ram Mandana was gone! CHAPTER XXYV., THE BEGGAR DUKE. THE Hindoo had vanished into thin air, or had stolen from the room, with such marvelous si- lence and celerity, that he had not heard him, in the two seconds that it had taken him to turn to the window, and back again. Determined to ascertain whether he had been cheated by some cunning mountebank trick, the yous a bo ee out of the room, and called i pring: % Which way did that gentleman go?” The Gypsy stared at him. ‘*Gentleman, your honor? There ain’t no entleman come out, saving and excepting your onor. ‘* No, no, I mean the dark man that you sent in just now,” said George impatiently. Spring assumed an expression of absolute fear. ‘Why, ain’t he in there still?” he asked. ‘No, he has gag ae You must have seen him pass you. ch ae did he come?” ene ifted up his hand to heaven solemnly. ‘*There ain’t been nobody by my post, I can take my oath, your honor. If the gent went out of your sight, he must be in there still.” en George went back and searched the little lodge in which he had. his quarters, with the re- sult that there was no trace of the visitor to be found, and he reluctantly came to the conclusion that Ram Mandana was actually gone. The occurrence startled him more than any- thing else could have done. For the first time, he remembered what the visitor bad told hi about the death of the old duke, and he resolved to.test the he He ordered his horse; rode to London at once, and drew rein at the house he had visited once ore. Everything looked the same as ever, and Jar- ome ee Ee CF vis opened the door, recognizing him with more respect than he had shown him at his last visit. ‘Ts the duke at home?” asked George. ‘“**Ts grace his at ’ome, sir—leastwise ‘is grace yet.” ‘ . — he sleep in the library?’ asked the visitor astily. Jarvis stared at him, as if surprised. ‘* Yes, sir—that is—ow did you know it?” ‘* Never mind how I know it,” replied George. ‘**T am his next of kin, and am going to the li- brary at once. I know the way.” And before the startled flunky could stop him, he had passed along the broad hall, and laid his hand on the door of the library. Jarvis followed him, crying, in a whisper of great agitatien: ‘For God’s sake, sir, don’t gohin. “Is grace ‘ll send hevery man in the ’ouse a-packin’ if ’e’s disturbed, afore ’e rings.” But George put him aside, and entered the room. The moment he got there, he saw the old duke, in his chair, as upright as if he was alive; but the whiteness of his face and the drop of the jaw showed that Ram Mandana had told the truth. The eremiey duke of England was dead, The debauch of the previous night had been too much for him, e had defied the doctor’s or- ders and a stroke of apoplexy had taken him from the midst of all his wealth. Jarvis saw the dead face too, and at once took in the whole situation. In common with all the servants, he had known that George was the next heir to the dukedom, and, with all the. servile instinct of the true British flunky, he said: “Oh, your grace, ’oo would ’a’ thought it! Itsa your grace come when you did; for the poor old gentleman made ’is will, last night.” George, more startled at the news, which con- firmed what his mysterious visitor had told him, looked round the room, and saw the very desk at which he had been warned, standing by the dead man. ‘*Go at once and summon the coroner,” he said, in a low tone; and as Jarvis left the room, anxious to curry favor with the new duke, the young man cast a swift glance round, and went straight to the drawer he had been told of, by the Hindoo, It was the work of a moment to open it, and he saw a peeacaeicnle lying cn the top of a num- ber of other papers, indorsed: “My last Will and Testament. Norro.r.” He trembled all over with excitement. The temptation was terrible. If Ram Mandana had told him the truth in one thing, he must have done it in all, and the Hindoo had told him that the will left all the property in the hands of the man called his brother. Hardly knowing what he. did, he opened the per, and the first words stared him in the ace: ‘To my beloved kinsman, Oliver Howard, com- monly said to be the son of George Augustus Howard, of Selby.” Then came a clause, which told how the old man, who had well earned the name of the ‘* bad duke,” in his misspent life, had hesitated for * Ree years whether he should do what be finally He had intended to leave the boy a portion of his wealth, the rest to goto the title, but the will closed with these words: “ Rut inasmuch as my next heir, according to law, has insulted me, by saying that he would not be a mourner at my funeral, I hereby take from him that I can, and charge Cres, that he see George Howard is not admitted to my funeral. The will was signed and witnessed, and the date attached showed that it had been executed oe the previous night. @ hardly ed the perusal of the lew when he heard steps at the door, and the moment Oliver Howard rushed into the room, his dark face flushed with anger. ‘* Aha!” he cried, as he saw George. are there, are you, trying to steal the will makes all thingseven between us? But you can- not do it now, sir. Give me the will.” And, as he spoke, he laid his hand on his sword, and half drew it. George Howard stood there, facing the man he had always felt could not be his brother, but not knowing exactly how to act. His voice trembled as he said: ‘‘T was but reading it, Oliver. I give it up cheerfully to you. You have the luck of it at last; but had I known this before, you might not have had so much reason to hate me.” Oliver made no answer till he had the will safe in his hands, when he folded it carefully and put it in his breast. Then he said, with an elaborate sneer: ‘“ You are the new Duke of Norfolk, and en- titled to be called your grace; but this and all in it belongs to me, sir.” The new duke bowed low. “Tt is true,” he said. ‘‘I am sorry to have intruded. I wish you a good-morning, sir, and a happy enjoyment of your wealth.” | Then George Howard, Duke of Norfoik and a beggar, at one and the same time, went slowly out from the house in which he bad expected te Eomichbooks ou (E()