Beadle's Dime Library No. 366 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

| | \ 12 his room, feeling the necessity of rest and thought. A mountain-weight of care on his mind, his eyes closed in slumber as he touched the bed, and it was far into the forenoon before he awoke. Tf he censured himself for sleeping while those he loved were in peril, his restored energy of mind and body told him that he was all the more clear and active for the tasks before him. He ate a hurried breakfast, and securing a morning paper, returned to his room to mark out his course for the day. His attention was fascirated as he saw the main article in the journal headed in sensation- al verbiage:—‘‘ A Mystery of the Night.” It was indeed a mystery, as the paper had it. It related the murder of the banker, the mys- terious message to head-quarters, the burning of the building, and wound up by stating that the brave young detective, Wills Marvin, had perished in the flames, after remaining at the wire long enough to inform the police concern- ing a mysterious stranger who had been traced home, but had escaped, and for whom and his four accomplices, whose names had also been learned, the police were now seeking. Not a hint as to the Dynamite League—not a clew to the real conspiracy behind the murder and his adventures! *¢T can only await my father’s revealing him- self,” concluded the young man, as he folded the paper. ‘‘ The police wiJl endeavor to trace down l'orrance and his confederates, while I—I must learn what has become of Constance Thorndyke.” 3 He wandered aimlessly about the streets the remainder of the day. Twice he visited the vicinity of the Irving Place mansion but day- light was no time for successful reconnoitering and he had no idea of boldly facing Adrian Revere yet. For ail that, however, he decided that it was he who had directed the abduction of Con- stance, If so, why had it been done? whither had she been taken? ‘‘Te Adrian Revere knows I will ascertain the truth this very night,” he mentally decided; and nightfall found him secure from recogni- tion in his disguise in front of the mansion formerly occupied by Gerald Thorndyke. It was a rambling structure, antiquated, and set far back from the street. The front win- dows were dark—the only evidence of occu- ants being in the house was_shown by the fibrary windows in the rear. Besides the ser- vants’ quarters, a room situated in a wing was illuminated. Cautiously the detective reached the shadowed corner of the house and peered in through the open window around the curtain, which drawn, fluttered loosely in the evening breeze. Ata secretary, a cigar in his mouth, his hat on, sat the man whom of all others he hated— the individual he believed to be the essence of the formidable confederation he was warring against—Adrian Revere! “He was writing a letter, while a low-browed man, twirling a slouch hat restlessly, was seated opposite him. The detective recognized this man as one of those who had been at the den destroyed _by the fire, and his hearing was strained as Revere after writing busily for a moment, crumpled up the sheet, flinging it on the floor and begin- ning to write again. : For five minutes there was silence in the room: then Revere arose, handing his visitor a sealed letter as he said: ‘¢ Wor Torrance.” “Very well, captain.” : The detective started violently. Captain! Were his suspicions destined to be verified? Was he to be enabled to soon place the brand of crime on the brow where it properly be- longed? The messenger left the room, Revere accom- panying him to the door. For a moment Mar- vin was tempted to follow, but the sight of the dark, evil face of Adrian Revere—the thought that Constance might be in his power, perhaps beneath his very roof at that moment—held him spellbound. ‘“T will face this man,” he decided, forcibly. ‘‘T have the proofs of his villainy in my posses- sion, and I cannot bear this suspense regarding Constance.” His heart warmed at the mention of the loved name, as he saw the man enter a little side- room as if for a cane or some article of adorn- ment, he leaped to the sill of the window, brushed the curtain aside and stood within the apartment. Tt was luxuriously furnished, and his brow clouded as he recalled the friendlessness and destitution of Constance Thorndyke, while this villain, -her treacherous relative, enjoyed the luxury of wealth and position. Involuntarily his hand sought the crumpled piece of paper on the floor, and he had bent over, secured it, and regained an erect position, when a uick cry preceded the sudden reappearance of Revere. ** Who are sort What means this intrusion?” he demanded, his face slightly pale, his eyes wearing a startled expression. _ Asif recognizing a foe Revere had advanced a ee ee 2 ee et oe + eee em coe ee ee The Telegraph Detective. to the desk. At that moment looking down Marvin saw in an open drawer a revolver, and with a quick spring he secured it. The other started back as if to reach the bell-cord and alarm the house. ‘« Assassin, would you murder me?” cried the man, in sincere alarm. Fi Stop!” came imperatively from Marvin’s lips. ‘Pause where you are, Adrian Revere, or it will be the worse for you.” He made no pretense of a threat with the KN in his hand; yet the other obeyed im. ‘“In Heaven’s name, who are you? What does this strange visit mean?’ quivered the vil- ee his lips ashen, his hands trembling percep- ibly. Those hands! If their tremor told a tale of guilt, their appearance to the piercing gaze of arvin revealed a startling suggestion. For, as if for an evening promenade, one hand was gloved—the right hand, and he had not removed the covering to write the letter he had dispatch- ed to Torrance. ‘¢ Adrian Revere,” spoke the detective, drift- ing from the terrible secret he felt assured the - Bethen hand could reveal, yet delaying its eluci- ation for the present; ‘‘ 1 have come here asan avenger and as an officer of the law. You may not remember my face, but my name you will not have forgotten—Willis Marvin.” He had torn the false beard from his face and confronted the other with flashing eyes. The white face of Revere told him that the discovery of his visitor’s identity had overwhelmed him. ‘‘You know me!” cried Marvin. ‘‘I can see it in your evil, coward face. I have not traced you in vain, Adrian Revere! The long, wear- ing months of anxiety concerning a father’s fate are at an end, and you, who sought to as- sassinate me, are now in my power.” The craven face told why Adrian Revere leaned for support ona chair. Believing Mar- vin dead, the sudden apparition had over- whelmed him, and his words brought a new ter- ror to his apprehensive heart. “To-night,” continued Marvin, in cold, steady tones, ‘‘ the police of New York know of your League—to-night I come here to unmask and arrest you.” ‘* Arrest me?” replied Revere, with anattempt at surprise. ‘*‘ Upon what charge?” * Murder !” The other started as though struck by an in- visible hand. It seemed as if his mind, suddenly aroused, called his usual boldness to the rescue, for the next moment he turned defiantly on the Telegraph Detective. ‘“You threaten me with arrest for murder? Your proofs?” ‘‘ They shall be forthcoming,” replied Marvin; ** sit down!” His words were so imperative, his face had grown so stern and threatening that the other sunk into a chair. ‘‘This pistol,” said Marvin, as calmly as he could command his voice to speak, ‘‘ has one barrel only empty. I can supply the missing bullet, it’is here—found in the library of the murdered banker, Hiram Arnold.” Revere’s eyes were fixed with startling inten- sity on the crushed leaden ball Marvin had taken from his pocket. A forced laugh broke wes roe lips, however. ‘‘ A clever coincidence, truly,” he retorted. “T own a revolver, you forcibly take possession of it and charge me with the committing of a crime I never heard of before. Any other like proofs?” he asked, sneeringly. In his excitement and indignation Marvin's prudence had been forsaken for reckless dc- nunciation. He hesitated as he noticed that the man’s eyes had assumed a crafty expression. He saw his folly. He was supplying this assas- sin with a knowledge of what might lead to his successful defense. He did not forget, too, that the scoundrel might hold the liberty and life of Constance Thorndyke in his power. ‘‘T have said enough,” he returned. ‘‘ You dare not deny that, through your devilish machinations, Gerald Thorndyke was led to de- vise his property to you—that by your orders the Dynamite League has hunted and persecuted the woman whose cause I am pledged to cham- vion, ‘“T dare deny it, Willis Marvin. What to me are your wild claims, your visionary Leagues? You burst unceremoniously into the home of a private gentleman, under the sanction of the law. Beware! Your second dismissai from the police force may prove more summary than your first!” Marvin could scarcely repress the rage which this man inspired. ‘“You and I understand each other, Adrian Revere,” he said, m a voice trembling with ill- suppressed anger. ‘*‘ You deem yourself safel intrenched behind the desperate League of crimi- nals who have aided your iniquitous plots? You think I cannot furnish the proofs of your com- plicity in the crime?” Revere faced him boldly. ‘“ Whoever you are, officer or impostor, I de- mand that you leave my house. Arrest me, if you have a warrant; if rot, go!” ‘“ Your house?’ cried Marvin, goaded to the verge of rage by the temporary defense Revere was enabled to assume. ‘Js it your house?” The question startled the man more than the detective’s threats. ‘“You areinsinuating,” he returned, in a chok- ing voice. ‘*T have a right to ask the question,” persisted Marvin. ‘' Adrian Revere, the web is woven which will yet lead you to the gallows. As tke rotectcr and friend of Constance Thorndyle, { demand to know what you have done with her?” ‘C19? replied the villain, with tantalizing indif- ference; ‘‘ what do I know of her, pray? ‘* Subterfuge will not avail you. show my hand yet, but I will learn where Con- stance Thorndyke is—the rightful heiress to this prancrys unjustly claimed and enjoyed by your se ‘‘- Your wild statements lack proof,” Revere responded, boldly. ‘“Not so!” rung in clear tones from Marvin’s lips, as he drew the paper from his pocket dropped from the casket by his father. ‘‘ Be- hold!” He spread out before the amazed man the document as he spoke. ‘* A will later than your own,” announced Marvin, triumphantly; ‘‘a will made by my father in favor of Constance Thorndyke, your victim, Robey signed and attested. What say you now, Adrian Revere? This, my first move to prove your arate my second, the evidence that you are a murderer,” He was anticipating the proof with which he would overwhelm the audacious villain. The latter was pale and alarmed as he gazed at the document, et he coolly regarded his compan- ion a moment later. “You champion a lost cause, with all your shrewdness,” he declared, opening a drawer in the desk. ‘‘If Constance Thorndyke were ten times in my possession it could make no differ- ence to you, If this property is hers instead of mine, I shall still enjoy its revenues despite your laudable endeavors to dispossess me, I 1ave outwitted you, Willis Marvin, as I‘shall continue to defy your plans.” He waved triumphantly a paper taken from the drawer before the amazed detective, who erused the document as it was flung on the te- le before him, ‘You cannot mean—” he gasped. ‘‘T mean,” returned Revere, in triumphant tones, ‘‘that this very day, legally, and of her own free will, Constance Thorndyke became joint heiress. of her father with me; that she is now my wife !” ——- CHAPTER X1. THE REJECTED LETTER. His wife! The written and printed words in the marriage certificate which Adrian Revere had thrust he- fore the Telegraph Detective’s startled vision seemed to shine out like letters of fire and then elgppneat in a blurred mist. ‘(treat heavens!” murmured Marvin, with a groan of dismay and horror; ‘it cannot be!” For the moment he forgot the presence of his: cnemy—knew only the anguish of a heart over- whelmed by a terrible ora atest he compromising all his peace and happiness, for, if Constance Thorndyke was legally wedded to this man, if the proof was either a clever forgery or surrep- titiously obtained, there were but two conclu- sions: either she had keen playing a part and he had been deluded by her all along, or by some foul means this villain had compelled or threat- ened her to a Marriage. He foresaw in a flash how much Revere could benefit by the act, for the casket must, sooner or later, drift into the hands of its rightful owner, and he her husband would virtuall secure by marriage what his schemes had failed to effect. Even amid perplexity and doubt, harassed by a thousand contending emotions, Willis Marvin decided that Constance Thorndyke had been no party to the crime—that, back of the alleged certificate of marriage, was a deep plot, another mystery which he must solve. Yet he grew sick at heart as he realized that this very uncertainty regarding the true status of affairs would necessitate the deferring of his cee oranls ied action in arresting this man. The triumphant eyes of Revere told him more plainly JT shall not: than words that the villain understood and ap- | preciated the situation, end that he grew lolder as he saw the detective greatly disconcerted by this last crowning evil. To arrest Revere would be to alarm the ' League and present but cne imperfect arraign- ment of proof against the man. Further, the detective knew what he suspected, but to rrcve that Adrian Revere was at the banker's resi- dence the night previous with Barnes and Tor rance and his colleagues would be the feeble battle of a single man against wealth, pcsiticn and a shrewd, wicked schemer and his friends. There was another proof, now a suspicion— the hand of fire—but the fear that if Revere was apprehended his enemies would murder Constance, that the girl herself might be in this (COMUNE OOO KS (Ele) * ~~ (LA en id