Beadle's Dime Library No. 351 — page 4: what you’re looking at

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

——; 4 y sd ior o™ a man—New York city3” this the entry reatl_ and ere the owners of thcse names had been in the house an hour, the melancholy face of the host grew mate- rially brighter, for it wasa g!impse of those “ glo- rious days” to receive the gold-promising orders of this Yan‘xee nabob. The colonel’s face was hotly flushed as he re- turned from his first visit to the rcoms chosen by Mr, Ovelman, bearing a sealed and directed note in his hand, but there was a certain grim humor in his watery eyes as he made an entry in his book, mut- tering the while: ‘Paid messenger cash, five dollars, for <@e and delivering letter to Daniel B own, Esquire. Whena low-down Yankee puts on such airs over a blue- blooded Southerner, he must pay for the privilege— through his nose!” and nodding ppreey at the entry, the colonel donned his rusty hat and strode majestically away—possibly to hunt up a servant. Promptly at the hour mentioned in that note, Dan Brown, of Denver, as he was known throughout the West, entered the Arlington and was shown to the room where Arthur Ovelman was awaiting his com- ing, and where we now find them. Slicht change had the passage of time effected in the celebrated detective since his la t bow before the reader. He was still the handsome, resolute- looking man who might have just emerged from the streets of the metropolis, with the grace of an Apollo, the dress of a society gentleman, but over su the air of a quiet self-reliance that told of one who had been thoroughly tested and not yet found wanting. Arthur Ovelman was meg gy me Mery Fn ye an +2 dinary-looking personage. obably years oO age, with iron-gray hair cut close to his head, with small, closely-clipped side-whiskers, the rest of his broad, massive face being clean shorn. Nota pleas- ant face, though the features were regular enough, and might have been called handsome, without vio- Jating the truth. The jaws were too firmly set. The eyes too cold and changeless. The mou h too smizht, the lips too hardly compressed. No one would look to him the second time for pity or kindly words or sympathy. No criminal would hope to have his ap for mercy listened to His garb was in perfect keeping—rich, yet severe- ly plain, All over he looked the man who had but one god—limself; but one servant—business; but one weakness—that of suspecting everybody with whom he came in contact, of trickery. This trait betrayed itself as be looked from the card which Dan Brown handed him into the owner’s face. Softly the detective laughed, as he answered the oken suspicion: xz You expected a rough, and you find—your hum- ble servant,’ with a low bow. ‘ Must roduce other vouchers for my identity? A certificate of birth, duly sworn to before a justice of the peace? Or will your letters concerning the sale of the mine, Jealous Girl, be sufficient?” “You have them with you?” gravely asked the capitalist. ‘*Thanks. I may be peculiar, but itisa “ with me to never take an item for granted in business dealings. Marjean, hand me my glasses,”’ he added, turning his head toward the window which looked out upon the street. A tall, graceful came forward with the de- sired article, and Dan Brown bowed low, his face flushing. Thanks to the folds of the window cur- tain, together with the dim light of the one oil lamp, he had believed himself alone with Arthur Ovelman, Now, as he saw those glorious dark eyes fixed upon his face with a strange intentness, he felt as though he had been guilty of un onable rudeness, Only for an instant did that peculiar gaze last, then, with aslight inclination of the proud head in answer to his bow, Marjean Ovelman turned away and resumed her seat at the open window. Yet in that moment Lea Brown had mentally taken her photograph, and this was what he saw: A woman of some two or three-and-twenty, tall and well-formed; dark hair and ores, regular fea- tures, a beautiful face, whose only fault was the ab- sence of all warm eolor—yet a face that told of much sorrow or trouble in the past, “*She looked as though she recognized me, or wanted to of something of the greatest im- rtance to her; but how can that be?’’ mused the etective, while the capitalist was closely scrutiniz- ing the letters as though expecting to detect a for- among them. “I rarely forget a face—never one so lovely as that. We have never met before.” His musings were interrupted by the capitalist. Apparently satisfied that all was correct, he opened the subject of his journey to this remote re- n, which led to the w with which this chapter opens. Tas the vein run out, or the grade of ore low- ered?’ “Neither. So faras that is concerned, the pros- pects are even more favorable than when I first made you an offer to sell. The mine is worth thou- sands more to-day than then.” “Tf so, whatamlItoinfer? You te in riddles, sir, and {have neither the time nor the patience to solve them. In one word, what do you mean?” was the irritable query. ‘*It will take more than one word to a sO that you can oeeetnene equabl rep ed Dan Brown; “but I will be as brief as ble.” “Do so, and i will greatly oblige me, sir.” “The facts of the case are just these, my dear sir. Some party or parties have either got a grudge against me—”’ ‘** What has that got to do with the Jea'ous Girl?” “If you will have a moment’s patience, you shall learn. Remember that I am only a poor ignorant miner, not a man of business, like yourself,”’ placid- sy cetorted Brown, with the faintest imaginable trace of a sneer in his tones. ‘*Lown the Jealous Girl. It is a vatuable piece of property. Whatever damages that, injures me in proportion. Now,Iam nota saint. I have stepped on a good many persons’ toes, both in the way of business or otherwise, and it looks very much as though some of those parties were login to get even with me, and at the same time keeping their own bones out of er. In other words, they are Mg § es best to the Jealous Girl.”’ ‘In what manner ?” sharply demanded Ovelman. ‘By injuring the works, and im g operations in every conceivable manner. ey are cunning Nor’ West } : scoundrels, or else a | have confederates among ast | n j=.) <4 ee my workmen, If the , the game is played to perfection, for I can find no clew to crookedness,” ‘*Are these the only grounds for giving me this advice?” ‘* Not exactly. The most important, however, for it is possible that the objection is to me individually, and so would not be transferred to you, should you conclude to buy.”’ ‘‘Tell me the rest. I never enter into anything ae no matter how slight the interests in- rolved.,’ ‘* Two of my best men have been killed, shot down | by cowardly assassins when in the wget of " t pe eir duties, without leaving the faintest clew to the | rpetrators of the dastardly crimes. I have been shot at, myself, more than once; but that might | have been owing to some other score, That, I lieve, is about all,”’ “Enough, one would think,” and Ovelman laughed unpleasantly, with a trace of suspicionin his hard eyes. ‘* Under the circumstances, I wonder that you are not too eager to sell to think of mentioning such trifles!”’ “You forget whatI told you at the ee said Dan Brown, with a kindling light in his blue eyes, and a half-glance toward the window where arjean satin silence. ‘I am not a business man: that may account for the difference.” ‘It would be a neat stroke for the keenest man of business, though, supposing your first statement true and the last one exaggerated.”’ ‘““What am I to infer, Mr. Ovelman?” a little sharply. Pat I i only ppotag a anne: not reflecting upon you e remo egree. a bargain is half made, for the sale of a mine. 4 The parties are widely separated, and the negotiations require considerable time. During this time, the mine im- roves and increases in value. The owner is no my anxious to sell, and so he trumps up some wild tales of wilder Jawlessness, to tell the purchaser when he comes to conclude the bargain, hoping thus to frighten him off, or induce him to bid higher.” “In short, that the mine-owner is a cunning scoundrel?” coldly a Dan Brown. “Or an astute man of business,’’ amended the capitalist. I think it is time to end our interview, Mr. Ovel- man,’’ and the detective rose to his feet. “ You have the advantage of me in this respect: yonder lady is your relative, but a ~ ge ol me, You are free to say what pe please, while my tongue is chained by a sense of common politeness.” ‘*My dear sir, pray do not be so hasty,” said Ovel- man, with more warmth in his tones. “I was only giving youa brief of what my partners would say to me, should I return to them with the tale you have told me. On my honor asa man of business, I meant to cast no reflection upon you.”’ “ The inference was a natural one, you must ad- mit,’’ said the mine-owner, resuming his seat. ‘I am glad to see that I was in error.” ‘*To business, then, You are still willing to sell?” ** Yes, if you care to take the chances.” “If the mine proves to be all that it is represent- ed. I care little for the rest. I am acting as the agent for a stock comnpany. If the purchase is made the mine will be put in hione of trusty men who will have to take the unknown risks as part of the bargain. The arm of the secret foe will have to be long to reach np | of the real owners.” “Very well. I will take you over the works, or ou can inspect them by yourself, and at your leisure, Iam not anxious to sell, but if you care to hold me to t.e terms named, the property is “*[ should think you would wish to get rid of it, if your suspicions are correct,’”’ remarked Ovelman, dryly. RT ve grown interested in the case, from a profes- sional point of view-’’ laughed the detective. ‘* Un- less other business interferes, I think I will see the matter to an end, anyway." “Have you any suspicions as to who is at the bot- tom of the mystery ?’ **Nothing very definite,” was the evasive reply. ** Somebody whose toes I have trod on, no doubt. Time will tell,” and he rose as though to depart, when Ovelman checked him. ‘*One moment; you have not seen my authority for closing the bargain, provided I found all satis- fa ; bey o matter,” laughed Brown. “Iam quite satis- ‘* But it does matter!’ was the rg hag 94 “Asa man of business, I must insist. y, | would be langhed at. I have it here,” fumbling in his breast cket vainly. ‘‘I remember, now, It is in my Sout, up-stairs. Wait a moment.” As he left the room, the curtain was thrust aside, and Marjean Ovelman came swiftly forward, that strange, anxious light deepening in her eyes, twin red spots on her cheeks. **Pray do not misjudge me, sir, but listen,” she said, hurriedly, with a fearful glance toward the door through which her father had disappeared. ‘When there is more time, I will explain all, but now—tell me—do you know—have you ever heard of a man named St. Clair Guthrie?” To say that the detective was astonished by this strange approach and address, it is stating the case very mildly indeed. His first impression was that the woman’s brain was unsettled, but that thought was banished when he heard that name—the name of Rocky £ar’s most notorious gambler and black- leg. Tiarjoan noted his hesitation, but put a wrong in- terpretation upon it. Mere eager than ever she muttered: *You are wrong—I am not mad, though I have passed through more than enough to — the ees|"’ stro t brain. Tell me—I ask it upon m and she sunk at his feet, with clasped and uplifted hands. ‘Tell me—it is more than life to a poor, Before Dan Brown could speak, the hea steps of the capitalist were heard on the sta pringing to her fe t, Marjean added, hastily: ou know, I am sure. Meet me to-morrow. I foot- , and for mercy hereafter, keep my secret!” silently back ndow, the curtain Nick, the Border Detective. wretched woman—tell me where I can find him!” will send you word when. Until then, as you hope | ry, that's . j kers—got by Thunder- With one finger ressed upon her lip, she glidea | essed whirly 0 woodpec got by / about her as the door opened and Arthur Ovelman re-entered the room. “There you will find my authority for concluding the bargain, with the provisoes,’’ said Ovelman, handing Brown the paper. ‘You will find it satis- , factory, I think.’ Dan 100k tue paper and affected to scan its con- tents closely, but it may be doubted whether he saw a word to recognizeit. His brain was busy with the strange words and stranger actions of the fair wo- man who had so recently knelt at his feet, as though she was indeed pleading for more than life. What was the secret connected therewith? What interest could she have in St, Clair Guthrie, notoriously the most immoral man in all Rocky Bar? Surely she could not His confused train of thought was cut short by the hard, sharp voice of Arthur Ovelman, saying: “Is it not in proper shape? You stare at it as though you thought it a forgery.” With an effort Dan Brown recovered himself, ‘Of course it is all right. I was not thinking of that, but simply admiring the regularity of the writing,’’ he answered, at random, but making a center shot by chance, A smile slightly relaxed the grim mouth. “Thanks for the compliment, for I wrote the docu- ete Under directions, of course,” he added, tily “It was going to unnecessary trouble, but after all, you are right about its being wisest to do such things according torule. And now, good-evening.’’ “Tf you are going down-town, I will walk a few steps with you. These rooms are so stuffy and close that a trifle of fresh air will not come amiss,” and Ovelman donned his hat. Passing through the bar, they reached the street. aren acting on a sudden impulse, Dan Brown asked: “Did you ever hear of a man named St. Clair Guthrie?” ** Not to my knowledge,” was the instant response. **Why do you ask? From any particular reason?” **No, not that I know of,” slowly. ‘There is a man of that name in town, rather a noted character, too, who claims to hail from New York, and I didn’t know but you had heard of him.”’ “New York is a rather sizable place,” dryly re- turned the capitalist, with a cynical smile, the pur- port of which the detective readily divined, but he uttered no protest. ‘* His place is not faroff. Ifyou have no objection to viewing the elephant—and we have him big as life in our little mining towns, too—we'll drop in there.’’ “Not the slightest,” was the ready reply. “I sometimes interview the tiger—after business hours, understand,”’ Motionless as a statue of stone sat Marjean Ovel- man at the window of the hotel, her face white as death, drawn with lines of bitter ny, none the less hard to bear because it could find novent. Un- noted the hours passed by, all unheeded were the wild sounds of the street where the half-drunken miners were making night hideous with their yells and bacchanalian laughter and rude songs. Her brain was busy with the At c drama was past. being unfolded before her throbbing brain, scene by . scene, act by act. Suddenly the spell is broken, and her drooping head is lifted with a start, her wild eyes glance up the street, but at first they rest only on vacancy. A steadily growing clatter and a then her clearing vision beholds a terrible sight. Down the street dashes a strangely burdened animal, nety pressed by three horsemen, whose cracking whips keep time to their wild yells and Is of laughter. Directly before the hotel, the ull pauses. Only fora moment, but then, as the light falls upon the white face of the captive— ‘*Kyrle—merciful Heaven!” and she sinks ina swoon. : CHAPTER IV. ‘‘ WHIRLY-GUST 0’ WOOD-PECKERS,” “Wnoo-ee-e/ Rip shins an’ marrerbones! Wake snakes, the winter’s bu’sted loose! Come out o’ vour holes an’ take a good squar’ squint at the p 2ny-pinny-poppy show—’twon't cost ye a durned vent, onless you try to tickle the trick-muel abaft. the gangway, or tromp on the tail o’ the rampagin’” colly wobbus— whoo-ee-e /”” Preceded by and wound up with an ear-splittin scream in close imitation of an enraged stallion, th whimsical outburst attracted all eyes, though the habitués of “* Aladdin’s Cave” were tolerably well nee a ngs ibe 4 this sort, shag eh on urday n when the average digger fe duty bound to go *‘on a tear.” ie, = The imitation was so perfect, accompanied as it. pnd tg font yan ,! pm ee a of Me horse pe in ” nding up w a sharp snort no less. clever—all this in a voice which "wens of those resent seemed to recognize, and the attention won y the gasconading stranger is se pores A giant in hight, but stoop-shouldered and narrow- chested for one of his altitude, though this was less: apparent than usual now that he stood with widely- separsied feet, his head thrown back and chest. inflated. His face a mass of black and tangled hair, out of which glittered small eyes and the tip of a rum-painted nose, A new hat of parti-colored felt war cooked over one aaa a Lg? pales under his arm is lon fingers ng a. tattoo on his oer as he stared around the room, flannel shirt, his corduroy trowsers, his long- legged boots, all were new and of fine material. A rage i gold chain was around his neck and hanging: testoons over his breast, vanished in a watch- ket. Pot a drunken miner, one evidently “ well-fixed,” **Whoo-ee-e /”? once more squealed the stranger cutting a complicated neers with the grace of a drunken giraffe. ‘“‘The two-legged wah-hoss of the mighty Nor’ West! The bloody-mouthed b’ar o’ the foot-hills! The gully-whompin’ catamount o’ ‘way up Bitter Crick! The rampin’, screamin’ moun- tain lion o’ the mornin’ star} e double-jawed ran’ moss-backed tarrapin o’ the Big Black Swamp! You pays your money an’ you takes your choice, an’ when the men one & ou putt your finger on or e two- West Nick, cradled in the mount’ins.. JOO EOMMICE cS . 5 8 J | i f “ye - * a i iii ee eee Bate ae? Tn