Beadle's Dime Library No. 366 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

15 of the evening’s adventure, even if a profitless quest, they determined to leave no means un- tried to reach the points desired. ‘‘You have decided on your plan?’ Dorsett asked. ‘Yes; you will leave the train at Leland; I will go on to Morris.” ‘‘ Very well. In case nothing occurs at Le- land, [ will await your return.” As the train stopped at the place mentioned, Dorsett alighted and Marvin continued his journey alone. The streets were comparatively deserted as, half an hour later, the detective reached the platform of the little station at Morris and the train sped on its way. In the office near at hand sat the telegraph operator, but both waiting- rooms were occupied, and the only adjacent point of interest was an engine standing on the side-switch, while across the road several men, the engineer and fireman among them, were drinking in a saloon. The detective stood undecided, somewhat dis- appointed at the evidently profitless outcome of his trouble, when the sound of approaching footsteps on the platform caused him to draw back in the shadow of the litt!e signal-house, The footsteps ceased, and, peering forth from his covert, he saw three forms. Only one he recognized. It was Torrance! It was also Torrance’s voice which spoke. ‘*She has not come yet,” he heard him say. ‘Ts the carriage ready?” One of his companions pointed across the track. ‘Tt is yonder,” he said, indicating a little clump of trees. “Very well. If sha comes, be careful to make no error. Silence her, once for all.” ‘‘ Why all this trouble? Couldn’t the job be done in the city!” “JT do not know, The captain’s orders were for this. He’s managed to get the girl here, and we must do as he says, She may be in the station-house now.” Marvin could hear their footsteps coming to- ward him. In order to escape detection he stole through the doorway and crossed the room, dis- appearing by the other exit. s he did so he saw, walking rapidly around the corner of the place, a form—that of a wo- man. The sight of the figure gave a wild thrill to his heart. Constance Thorndyke, to all sem- blance, but why had she come here voluntarily? What was the mystery of the perplexing affair? He hastened after her. He ran around the station and reached the platform. There, cross- ing the tracks, was the woman, and by her side Torrance! They went around the engine and disap- peared, and in their wake crept cautiously the two accomplices of Torrance. Marvin heard a wild scream as these latter sprung forward. He saw the woman’s form ruggling in their embrace, and, pistol in hand, hurried toward them. Through the space between the cab and the tender of the locomotive he saw the men en- deavor to lead the woman to a carriage, a few yards distant. He did not delay to go around the engine, but sprung up the steps to cross it. At that moment the light of the open fire-box shone full on his features. His face must have been revealed to the strug ang woman, for, from her lips, burst a cry which told the detec- tive that he had been mistaken in his conclusion as to her identity—that she was not Constance Thorndyke, but Arminie Royale, the vailed wo- man, who had decoyed him to the den of the ERS “Willis Marvin, the detective!” she cried, frantically, ‘‘ these men would murder me af- ter I have aided them in their plans, because [ know their secrets!” She was a woman in distress—a foe perhaps, but he did not hesitate to hasten to her aid. He was about to spring to the ground when Tor- rance turned and saw him. eee as a flash the latter stooned as the de- tective fired a shot at him. Evading the bullet he seized a stone and flung it directly at his foe. The detective fell back in the cab of the loco- motive, stunned and bleeding, from a wound in his forehead, but, ere his senses deserted him, he heard the ery of the woman: ‘‘ Avenge my death and your own wrongs, Willis Marvin! Constance Thorndyke is the victim of a plot of the man I—” The men bore her to the carriage and roughly sealed her lips ere she could complete the sen- tence. Torrance, his eyes gleaming murder- ously, glancing after them, saw the vehicle whirled away, and then looked searchingly around him. In the bottom of the locomotive cab lay the inanimate form of Marvin. Through the open doorway of the saloon opposite he saw the men still drinking. Evidently no one in the vicinity had witnessed the exciting episode of a few minutes previous. ‘* [ll finish him,” he muttered, hoarsely, ‘‘ He has followed us once too often. He shall die.” The devil’s gleam was in his eye, the mur- derer’s purpose in his evil heart. He sprung rere re pe et eee ee nn ne nn LD into the cab and lifted the body of his enemy to the cushioned seat of the engine. A quick cut at the bell-rope and he bound the piece around the waist of the drooping figure, securing it to the sash of the window. Then removing a scarf from his neck, be tore it in two, and tightly secured the hands and feet of his inanimate victim. More like a demon than a human being, the glittering intensity of hatred and malice in his face made him a fiend incarnate, as he surveyed his helpless victim. His hand on the lever of the engine, he closed the fire door, and with a fierce pull drew back the steel starting-bar. There was a mighty throb, and the iron mon- ster seemed to leap forward like an aroused lion. As the outlaw sprung to the ground, whirled over and over by the sudden leap, the engine, with its living freight destined by his murderous purpose to death and destruction, flew swiftly down the switch, out on the main track and dashed away, viewed by the excited men in the saloon, their attention attracted by the noise of the puffing monster holding the en- tire line at the mercy of its unchecked, mad career. Along the polished rails, amid the storm and tempest, tearing around the curves and down the steep grades like a whirlwind, ere the lo- comotive. The wooded hights and lonely val- leys were passed in a flash; half the distance to Leland was gained, and then, revived by the rushing air, and the cold rain beating in at the window, the unconscious detective awoke to life with a sigh of confused pain, Surprise, conjecture, and finally horror took sossession in turn of the detective’s mind. eath had threatened him in a thousand ways, but never in so horrible a guise as this, a wild flight, an ul imate crash, and a terrible death amid the wreck of the iron monster, amid the ravenous fire and horrible seething steam. ‘** Devils!” he gasped, hoarsely; ‘‘ they are hu- man ghouls!” He strained at his bonds with the strength of amadman. Oh! for one moment’s time at the polished lever two feet distant. But he was powerless, helpless, a close captive, every mo- ment bringing him nearer to certain death. His hands, bound at the wrists, were clasped tightly together in inexpressible anguish, his white face gleamed like that of a corpse, his tu- multuous heart-throbs seemed sounding the knell of death to his despairing soul. He seemed flv- ing through space, his excited mind exaggerating the twenty miles an hour to a tremendous rate of speed, and then a wild cry like the last hope uttered of a drowning sailor in sight of land, es- ° caped his parched lips. ar above him he saw the slackened leather rope which held the rod of the steam whistle. Could he reach it with his bound hands? Even if so, would it avail him to avert the inevitable death which threatened him? He tried to raise his body, but realized that one slip would send him helpless to the floor of the cab. He raised bis bound hands over his head. They reached and grasped the leather rope. ‘“My last hope,” he almost moaned. ‘‘ Oh, Heaven grant it may not be fruitless!” Aud then out on the still night air, waking the distant echoes mid valley and forest, shrill, distinct and detonating sounded the screaming danger-signal of the road. ‘* Dorsett,” he gasped, as he saw through the forward window the gleaming lights of a sta- tion two miles ahead. ‘Is it Leland? Is he there? Can he help me? Heavens! a telegraph signal on the whistle! Would it reach his ears? Would he understand?” Through his mind’s eye, as if written in let- ters of fire, seemed to run the name of Dorsett spelled out by sound; dash, dot, dot; dot, dash, dot, and so on through the name, a light pull on the valve for the dots, a brief waiting for the space, a long, shrill signal for the dash. “T will try it!” he groaned, wildly. ‘ A last desperate resource.” A short jerk, a long one, an imitation of tele- graphic dots and dashes, he spelled out on the shrill whistle the words repeated quickly, wildly, time and again. hse '‘—help! Dorsett! Help! Dorsett! elp The great drops of perspiration stood like huge beads on his pallid brow. Nearer the red lurid light of the station-lamp, the signal still repeating. He could see the station platform and excited forms rushing hither and thither. He did not know that the men there understood that something unusual had happened and that they had turned a switch leading to the very verge of a railway termina- ting ina sr broad abyss. But Dorsett was there. Even at that flying rate of speed he could make out the form of his companion seated in an attitude of expectation and excitement. His voice rung out with the ery of the whistle, his hands relaxed their hold on the rope, and he fell back awaiting his last chance for life or death, The engine whizzed by the platform of the station, there was a sudden leap by a dark ob- are the air, and with a crash a human orm clutched the window-ledge of the cab. One glance from the appalled eyes of the de- tective, one murmured prayer for help, and he fainted sheer away, a dead weight upon the _cashioned seat of the locomotive, But not until he had seen a hand reach from the side of a form which had been driven flying through the space between cab and tender—a firm, quick hand which grasped the polished steel lever of the iron monster and drew it to- ward him with all the strength he could exert. Then darkness and insensibility, the uncon- sciousness of exhausted vitality, or the somber silence of death, he knew not which, CHAPTER XIV. A SCOUNDREL’S FATE. ‘* STanD where you are, or I will kill you!” These were the startling words uttered in a tone of mingled desperation and rage which as- sailed the amazed Torrance, as, arter the shock of springing from the engine, he regained bis feet and stood, badly shaken up, by the side of the track, Dying frem view and hearing. every moment the lights and sounds of the fast disappearing locomotive subsided asthe turmoil of excitement around the little station became augmented, The wicked emissary of Adrian Revere was aware that a form bad appeared suddenly from the long grass of the ditched pasture where he had jumped, saw dimly the forms of the men at the station, but he did not recognize the dress or figure of his strange captor, Only the voice sounded familiar, only its tones told plainly that the speaker was in dead- ly earnest, and the leveled revolver gleaming coldly, and held by a strong hand, caused Tor- rance to regain his scattered senses and realize that a new and unforeseen peril menaced him. His first thought was that a detective had cornered him, but the next words of the stran- ger removed the idea. " ‘* March straight through the break in ycnder fence,” came the words, sternly, ‘‘ or I will end your career with a bullet.” A foe only could speak thus, a wronged, in- dignant man; but who wasthisenemy! Mutely the outlaw followed the direction indicated by his captor, and only paused when a little clump of timber was gained, when abruptly there broke from the lips of his warden the single word: ** Halt |” He turned and faced the other, Evén in the darkness he could see that the form was trem- bling, as if in anger, and the voice, husky with pi eee emotion, boded ill for his safety. ‘You are the man, Torrance!” came hoarsely from the lips of the stranger, ‘‘ the leader of the Dynamite League. Is my disguise so perfect that you cannot recognize your deadliest foe?” His deadliest foe! Something in his groping mind—something in the glitter of that eye—the passion-toned voice, was a revelation to Tor- rance, * Tt can’t be,” he cried, as he started back in alarmed surprise, ‘‘ Robert Marvin!” The other took a step forward and placed his hand on the arm of his shrinking captive. ‘* Ay, fiend, torturer! Robert Marvin!” he re- plied in a deep tone of intense feeling—‘‘ the man you have driven from a peaceable, quiet life to such suffering as to-night makes me an avenger. Answer me, and answer me truly, or by all I hold sacred and good I will kill you where zou stand.” All the bravery he had exhibited before his boon companions faded from the craven’s heart as he realized the depth of his victim’s wrongs —the latent fierceness which, already develop- ing, might lead to the execution of Robert Mar- vin’s threats, ‘“ What would you know?” he asked, in a quavering voice. ; ‘* Who was the gerne you just sent adrift in ycnder engine? No deception! I swear that I will not brook delay or a falsehood,” ‘‘Tt was your son, Willis Marvin, the detece tive,’ old man threw himself ‘upon the other, well might an infant orusire in the grasp of a beast of prey as Torrance in the awful clasp of the wrongedather’s hands, He had flung his revolver away. Unmindful of craft or superior strength, he seemed en- dowed with all the courage of a hero, He bore his foe to the ground; his long, thin hands met about the throat of the powerless ruffian, bu with life half-choked out of his foe, Rober Marvin relaxed his clasp. re Torrance was as weak as a child. He lay there gasping for breath, and did not even utter the protest of a word as the man, his anger half-repented, seemed to alter his purpose, and taking a long strap from his waist twisted it tightly around the wrists of the other. Then he helped him to his feet and faced him with features gleaming with rage and anger. ‘Tf you have murdered my son,” he said, in an awful tone, ‘‘ Heaven help you, for I will kill vou. I give you one chance for your miserable life. The woman you enticed here to-night— where have your accomplices taken her?’ The outlaw saw a dim respite at the promise of achance for existence, vague and uncertain, he realized, for he believed Willis Marvin ive.” With acry like that of a wounded tiger, ibe ; s ee ee The Telegraph Detective. ° a Gomichdoo cS Go!