Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 332 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

- a a a 7 wt —A Spring-Heel Jack. 25 There was no more appearance of sullen- ness about him. Contrary to the general run of men, he seemed to have, not only a hearty respect but also a kind of affec- tion for the man who had been able to lay him low. ‘*Get up,” said the young officer quietly, ‘‘T told you that I wanted to speak to you, and now is the best time. Your name is Mathias Spring, is it not? And you knew | Captain Howard, once on a time, did you | not?”’ ‘The old Gypsy was slowly frising as he | asked the question, and when it was finish- | ed, he stood before the young man, as if lost in astonishment, gaping, rather than say- ing: **’Oo be thou, then?” CHAPTER XXXY., GETTING AT THE TRUTH, Howarp saw that he had astonished the Gypsy, and as he did not want to silence him sad? make him afraid, so that he might not speak at all, he said, in a mysterious way: ‘It matters not who I am; but I know you, and I know that you had dealings with Captain Howard, for which you could be punished, if I were not a friend of yours, Come aside with me, where none can hear us; for I have that to say which must be said to you alone.” His mysterious air had its influence on the other, who, having felt the prowess of his arm, was disposed already to hold him in reverence, partly from fear, but more from the admiration of physical superiority that is often found in men who are strong them- selves. ‘‘T’ll go with your honor, wherever your honor wants,” he said. ‘Then follow me,” said George, and with that he was taking him away into the quiet recesses Of the heath, when the old woman, who had been watching him keenly, inter- posed with some words in her own tongue, which made old Spring stop and say hesitat- ingly: We can talk all we want, ‘ere: can’t we?” ‘*No,” said George decidedly. ‘‘I don’t want any one to hear what I say to you, and what you say to me. I have come here to see you, and I will have it my own way or not at all.” Again the old woman said something, to which her husband replied in the same lan uage, and then he followed his conductor nto the open heath, where George sat down in a place where no one could get near them, to overhear what was going on, He kept his own face toward the camp, so that the old woman could not creep up to listen, without being seen, and began: ‘Your name is Mathias Spring?” ‘** Yes, it be, and I ain’t ashamed on it.” The Gypsy had assumed an air of more sullenness than he had shown at first. ‘Very good. In former times you met Captain Howard, in Scotland.” ‘’Ow do you know that?” ‘*] know it, and you dare not deny it.” ‘ Well, I ain’t denyin’ on it: am I?” ‘*And when you had known the captain for a time, he got into debt with you?” ‘‘Well, suppose ’e did: what o’ that?” ‘Simply this: How much money did he owe you? It might be paid, if you treated me rightly.” He watched the Gypsy while he spoke and gaw a gleam in his eyes that showed him he had touched the right chord. “You might get all that you lent him and a good deal more besides,” pursued Howard, **if you would do what I want you.” The Gypsy looked him in the eye. ‘« Afore I tell ee anything I want to know oo thou beest?” “That is not to the purpose. If I am ready to give you money, it is nothing to rou who I am. Are you ready to tell me ow much he owed you, and how much you want?” ; “RB owed me more’n ’e iver paid, and ’tis all gone now. What does thee want to know fur?” “In order to pay you. Howcan I pa the money, if you won't tell me what it is?” ‘“"Ast got the money wi’ thee?” | *Of course not. I don’t carry money about like that. If you want it you must do something for me in return,”’ ‘* And what is’t?” George looked keenly at him as he weighed what he was going tosay. He was coming to the end of his negotiation, and if the Gypsy now refused, he would be as badly | off as before. But he felt a sort of conviction that he could manage this strange man that caused him to say: ‘You must tell me how it was that you induced the captain to acknowledge your son as his own, and why you cast suspicion on the birth of his true son. That is what you must do.” Mathias Spring burst out into a discordant laugh at once. ‘Thou beest only a fool, arter all. through all thou’st said. Thou’rt the son of the man ‘imself, and that’s what thou’rt arter. I’m no gorgio, but a true Romany; and thou canst whustle for what thou want’st. Dost ’ear me?” George jumped up as he spoke and stood over him, eying him sternly, but the Gypsy never quailed at the glance. ‘*Then look here,” said the young officer, with an emphasis that showed he was in earnest. ‘‘'l’here are two of your people in my power now, and you will be the third, if you don’t speak out. You will do what I tell you, or, within one hour from now, I'll have you in prison, and there you shall ee! till | choose to let you out.” he Gypsy curled his lip. ‘*Talk don’t cost much,’’ was all the an- swer he vouchsafed. “Very well, then, get up and let us go on with the fight that we were at when you gave in. Get up and fight, or be called a coward, and [ll take my whip to you instead of the bare knuckles.”’ The Gypsy changed color slightly. “T’ve fought all | want,’’ he said sullenly. ‘“‘T ain’t bound to fight no more.”’ George had kept the whip hanging at the wrist by a strap all the time, and now he raised it and dealt the Gypsy a cut across the face that brought the blood, when Mathias leaped up and began to fight again the best he knew how. The sting and humiliation had goaded him into fighting, but he knew he was no match for the strong and active young man, and he fought in a style very different from what he had taken before. George, on the other hand, was determined to make him give in, and he knew, from experience, that there was no way so sure as that of physical chastisement, He soon began to get in his blows on the old Gypsy, who did his best, but was tired out, before he began, from the exertions he had used in his former contest. In a very few minutes he was beaten back, his face showing the marks of the punishment, his eyes swelled and nearly — while blood was streaming down his ace. He began to look frightened, for the first time in the contest, as he noted the fierce way in which George pressed on him, pitiless and grim, not sparing a blow, and at last he called out: “lm licked. What more d'ye want, man?” George only answered him with another blow, and then took the whip in his hand and began to ply the Gypsy with the lash, as if chastising a dog. The effect of the whip was greater than that of the fist. Mathias could not parry the lashes, and he was too weak to fight back, so that he fled as fast as he could, till George, young and active, ran after him, tripped him up, and then began to flog him mercilessly, as he lay on the ground, till Mathias yelled out: ‘*Stop it, and I'll do anything ye want me. be ee the devil himself, and that's the truth of it,” ‘Then answer my question, and tell me how you got the captain into your toils, or I'll cut the hide off ye ineh by inch.” And the usually mild young man, now that he was completely roused, looked like a fiend, with his tierce blue eyes blazing with anger, as he held the whip suspended aloft, ready for more chastisement. ‘“How did you get him in your power? Tell it quick, and take care you don’t lie about it, or it will be the last of you.” ‘‘"E were a’ fool, and I didn’t never get ‘Im in my power at all. °E put ‘imself there. "E would go to races and bet on the wrong ‘orse, and that’s the way ‘ecome to owe me a thousand pound and more. There, that ought to be enough.” The eye of the Gypsy was lowering, and his bruised face looked sullen. George, for answer, dealt him another cut of the whip. ‘‘ You’re lying to me, sir. Tell the truth. Now go on, and as soon as you tell the truth, I'll stop thrashing you.” With that he began to ply the lash with all the force of which he was capable, the Gypsy writhing to and fro, unable to escape it, till at last he shouted wildly: ‘Old thy ’and, and I'll tell thee all.” George desisted, and the other began: “’E owed me money fur bets and fur ‘orses, and | let it go on, fur I ’ad a plan to git even. "’E’d often told me ‘ow ’e were a-goin’ to be jook, when some one died, and that ’is sons ’ud ‘ave the property arter ‘im, so I’ad my plan. Fu’st I thought to put a boy of my own in the place, but then come the fu’st boy of ’is’n, and that sp’iled the plan. ’°E wouldn't ’ear to ’ave that boy put artera Romany, so | ’ad to let it go, fur what I c’u'd git. “Twas many a year afore I ’ad a boy of my own; but, by that time ’e were wuss in debt than afore, and all my people was in the plan wi’ me. They lent me the money to keep ‘im a-goin’, and ’e ‘ad a good time of ‘un, while it lasted. At last come the boy I ’spected, and we made it oop that ’is wife should pretend it was ’er’n. T’ ould woman, over there by the fire, was the mother, and the boy was born when the fu'st boy was four years old. The lady didn't like it; but we ‘ad a way to make ’er coom to er milk, we did—” “And what was that?” asked George sternly. Mathias grinned. ‘* We jest drabbed ’er.” ‘* What’s that?” | “What you gorgios call p’uzen,” was the startling reply. ‘‘ She didn’t know but what ’twere all right, ye know,”’ And then he began to speak out in earnest. CHAPTER XXXVI. HIS MAJESTY, THE KING. THat afternoon George Howard rode slowly on his return to Hampton Court; his rein hanging on the horse’s neck; his face thoughtful and sober; his thoughts in a whirl. He had heard poy he could hardly be- lieve, and which left his brain confused; but in all his confusion he retained a burning sense that he had been treated with vile in- justice, and that there was no way out of the trouble that he could see. Oliver was not his brother, but a Gypsy outcast, thrust into his family, By a plot, the full villainy of which he could hardly yet fathom. But Gypsy or not, the man was now firm- ly intrenched in the fortune of the old duke, unless the power of the king himself were invoked, and in that case the whole scandal, that his father had inflicted on his family, could not but come out, in the full blaze of publicity. Revolving all these things in his mind, and not yet decided on what he should do, he came to Hampton Court. As he rode in, the sun was setting, and the gardens were full of the courtiers, strolling to and fro in the alleyways, waiting for the coming of the king. His way did not lie through the gardens, but he was spied by more than one, and all heads were turned his way, as if in curiosity, for the ‘‘beggar duke,’ as he was already called, was an object of great interest at He went to his quarters; took off his rid- ing-dress, and put on his uniform to go out, for he had an idea that the king might summon him to his side again, as he had be- fore. In this he was not mistaken, for, before he had completed his dressing, he was disturbed by a tap at the door, and Spring put his head into the room to say: ‘* Please, your honor, there’s a page from ‘is majesty, as says you’re wanted,” SS ee eet cts le. —- = <-> --- 8 a oe een bree se eee wea eee ee ee — 2 zt: en, _—.—— a GOMmiGHdOOKS a I - =_ GOlr —-