Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 379 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

hs Blair could not be more eager for the collision than was the man whose iron fist had sent him headlong to the floor. But then—he cast a swift glance toward Amelia. that fearful shock, her eyes were downcast as she stood with drooping head beside her father who was. conscientiously giving music for money. “Try to keep him back until I can get these people out of the way, will you?” he hurriedly | whispered, forgetting all else in his fear for her, “Tl not be long—he’ll find me soon enough!” ‘* Tl do what I can,” was the hasty response, though there was not much encouragement in the look which bore the words company. ‘* He’s just red-hot, and swears he'll cut a straight swath to ye!” ‘**Do the best you can, pard. the favor.” The man turned and left the saloon, while rank’ Spartan, hurriedly emptied his hat into his pocket, touched Herman Moskau on the arm with an emphasis that brought the music to an abrupt pause. It was this pause that brought the mad dance to an end, and led to Howling Jonathan giving the true Western dance-hall finale. “You must go, and that at once, good friend,” Frank Spartan hurriedly uttered in guarded tones. ‘* Amelia is ill—she must have quiet and rest, or you will lose a daughter as well as a son!” It was no time to pick and choose his words. The main point was to get these helpless ones out of The Mint with the least possible loss of time, and Frank 1 pe teem cared more for Amelia than he did for the feelings of her father. , Without giving the bewildered old man a chance for the quaint speech with which it was his custom to make his bow, he hurried them to the door and out of it, not only before Perry Blair put in an appearance, but without being ve aie by Hebrew and his companions at the ar. As quickly as possible Frank Spartan led his friends around the nearest corner, thinking only of escaping an encounter with the gam- bler while they were under his wing, nor did he draw a full, free breath until The Mint was lost to view in the night. ‘**’Melie?” ‘* Yes, father.” **It was too bad you sick become, just so!” gravely uttered the old man. ‘‘ And you, my soot friend, was hurry us off so quick that it was me for ot our thanks to the kind people for the money they give us for our boy! That was look bad! They think it a cheat, for—” ‘It is for her sake,” a little sharply interpos- ed Spartan. ‘‘ You forget that she is young and tender, not able to bear up under sucha trving life for so long at a time without rest. She is breaking down under the weight you cast upon her shoulders, and unless you will listen to sober reason, she will die!” ““*Melie? It is not so bad? ‘You will not leave me, too?” feebly, helplessly muttered the blind man, ** Never, father,” was the low but firm reply, as her hand tightened its grasp upon his trem- bling fingers. ‘* Together, you and me, until we find Franz!” ‘Or, a grave in this cursed country!” almos grated Spartan. ‘“* That is what will be the end, and if you were not blind, old friend, you would see this as plain as I can see it.” ‘¢ Tt is Franz—it is our boy we must find!” ‘‘ And if he is alive, I pledge my word of honor to find him for you. I will set a thousand men to work, if you are afraid to leave the search wholly to me, I will find him and bring him to you, if he is alive. I will find his grave if he is dead. Only—you and Amelia must take Some rest and—” ‘“And so die!” sharply, almost fiercely inter- posed Herman Moskau, his bowed form drawing erect, his voice strong and clear. “It is this going about that alone keeps life in my heart! It is only when this poor old body is worn out and almost drooping with fatigue, that I can rest or sleep. To stop going—to sit down and wait—that would bring death. And I cannot die until I find my poor boy—no!” ; Frank Spartan was silenced, if not convinced. And then they were already at the front of My House, from the saloon of which came the sound of voices. He dared not linger there under the light which streamed from the glass lamps in Pil not forget ‘ front of the hotel, and so he opened the side door, entering with the two wanderers, to find himself face to face with widow Watkins, Her greeting was cordial enough, and it was only when she frankly extended her hand that Spartan made more than a distant, polite recog- nition by lifting his hat, just as he might have done on coming face to face with a perfect stranger. A slight flush came into his pale face as her fingers closed picrhara significantly about his, a peculiar light filling her brown eyes. ‘Delighted to see you, Mr. Spartan!” she said, her manner almost ‘‘ gushing.” ‘‘ And, by the way, I have a message to deliver. Will you be so kind as to wait for me a moment in the par- Pale, evidently still suffering from | Howling Jonathan. a PN : , L'¢ | lor? I will not task your patience long—just | I suppose, and it is only a fool who stops to wee enough to see these good cue to their rooms.” The young man bowed, following the widow along the narrow passage leading to the room in which she had that evening faced Colonel Joel Mallison after his recognition of the wanderers. ** IT must see you!” she muttered, hurriedly, as she held the door open for him to pass by and enter the room, ‘* You will wait?” ‘Since you insist—certainly, madam,” was the cold response. ‘‘Tt concerns those two—the blind man and his daughter.” She turned and hastened back to where Ame- lia and her father were awaiting her, a peculiar ————————— light filling her eyes. She knew that Frank Spartan would not attempt to avoid her after those words. She kept her promise not to make him wait many minutes. She shut the door behind her, turning the key in the lock before facing him. A swift flush leaped into her face as she saw bim smiling coldly, almost sneeringly. For a brief space her eyes drooped, but then they met his gaze firmly, even defiantly as she spoke: ‘You are still revengeful, Frank? ‘You have not forgotten?” ‘*Revengeful? toward a lady?” he echoed, his brows arching, ‘*My dear— pardon me! I have forgotten what name you sail under at the present time!” He could not have chosen his words better had he studied how to the most surely put her at ease. A low, musical laugh bubbled from her lips, and all constraint disappeared from her manner, as she motioned h'm to be seated, her- self sinking into a chair at a little distance. ‘The widow Watkins, my dear friend, and landlady of My House,” she said, with a little bow that was perfect in its way. “But JT did not imprison you to talk about myself. I wish to talk about Herman Moskau and his daugh- ter. ‘* My friends,” gravely responded the young man, ‘So rumor tells me,” with just a trace of tart- ness in her voice, ‘* For once rumor speaks true.” ‘* When it says that Frank Spartan is over head and ears in love with this girl! Do you admit that, too?” Sharp and almost harsh sounded her voice as she uttered these words, and there came the same aged, gray shade and look into her face that marked it not many minutes before, when in the ato of Colonel Joel Mallison. She leaned forward in her chair, her eyes aglow, fixed on the face of the young man, who grave- ly bowed as he said: ‘*T admit it, and am proud to do so—yes,” **That you love this child of a blind beggar? That you seek to wed her? Do you dare say this—and to my very face?” That cold, sneering smile came back to the face of the man as he listened to these swiftly ut questions. The hot anger which filled the ace of widow Watkins seemed to give him pleasure rather than alarm or annoyance. ‘Why not, my dear madam? We are as much strangers as though you and I had never met each other before this night.” ** Frank—you know you are lying!” *“*T am speaking the truth, no more, no less,” was his calm retort. ‘If we were ever more to each other than—” “Tf!” echoed the woman, her eyes glowing vivi i Still cold and contained as though the most at eed of persons, Frank Spartan ad- ed: “Tf you ever had any rights to take me to task, to pry into my private affairs, you surren- dered that right when you eloped that—” ‘‘T was mad—I did not know what I was doing!” muttered the woman, bowing her head and covering her face with her hands, her grace- ful form quivering with strong emotions. ‘Yet you had been warned plainly enough. ‘You could not have fortotten the understand- ing which we had when you first came to me. It was full and explicit enough, one would think, for even your short memory. But let that be as it may; you took your choice, and I never once blamed you. I said you were a woman, and bard was excuse sufficient for even your conduct —then. * And now, Frank?” lifting her face, catching at the sudden alteration in his voice as he ut- tered that last word, ; ‘*Now—you are widow Mercy Watkins, and I am the promised husband of a true-hearted, pure and angel girl.” If the first words were tinged with irony, the last were spoken almost in reverence, and widow Watkins was woman enough to know that they came from the very bottom of his heart. What would have convinced a man the fight was worse than vain, only served to urge her on, to make her play the card she held in reserve with increased cunning and force, She flung back her head with a careless, graceful gesture, all anger vanishing from her face as though by magic. She smiled, and there pac feta the trace of laughter in her voice as e spoke: ** Well, what the fates will must come to pass, i ee NS 0 fe eee Se a over spilt milk when the woods are full of fresh cows! One cannot have and throw away, too! Which proves the old proverb a lie when it says that a woman and a sbticsupher never wore the same clothes!” ‘**Was it this you wished me to listen to?” a little sharply asked the young man, witha quick glance at his watch, ‘If so, it will keep better than an appointment which is waiting.” ‘You have had trouble about her?’ swiftly demanded the widow, seeming to read his face rather than his words, ‘‘ You are going to fight on her account?” ‘‘Tf there is to be any fight, it ison my own account,” coldly. ‘“-You must love her very dearly. Time was when you swore no woman on earth was worth fighting over.” ‘*At what time to-morrow can you see me Mrs. Watkins?” he asked, rising to his feet and moving toward the door, ‘‘T prefer to see you this evening, unless you are so frightened that you elect to break down the door,” laughed the widow, holding up the key, then slipping it into her bosom. For one moment Frank Spartan hesitated, but then resumed his seat, a hard smile playing about his lips. ‘* When I am charged with hiding from an enemy, Pll have to send them to you for an ex- cuse, then.” Once more he had chosen his words right well, and without any further beating about the bush, widow Watkins spoke to the point: ‘*'You are deeply interested in these people. You have offered a large reward for any infor- mation leading to the discovery of either Franz Moskau or his partner, Morris Grant. Am I rightly informed?” ‘You are,” bowed Frank Spartan; but her eyes sparkled even more vividly as she saw the interest written upon his face. ‘* Have patience, then, and it is barely possi- ble that I may be able to give you a clew. so—you would be grateful?” ‘“Try me and see,” he uttered, his voice deep and earnest. ‘‘That is by far too vague, my dear friend,” with a low, mocking laugh. ‘‘ You must put it in plainer terms, or I fear my memory will prove treacherous. In plain words, what will you give to be placed on the right trail?” **'You know?—you can tell me where to look for Franz Moskau?” he cried, his face all aglow, his voice trembling with eagerness. Widow Watkins laughed softly, leaning back in her chair, gazing at him through her halt- closed lashes, “You should cultivate animation, my dear ea si It makes you absolutely handsome, and— ‘Will you answer me?” he gratingly inter- posed, the color fading from his face, his black eyes glowing dangerously. ‘** After me is manners, you understand,” and the widow bowed with ironical politeness, ‘* When you have answered a few questions for me, I will—or will not, according to your elec- tion—answer yours.” It was a dangerous game she was playing, but the experience of the past bad taught widow Watkins that Frank Spartan would never use actual violence toward a woman, let her sin be never so black. And even though she knew she was lessening her very faint chance of gain- ing the end on which she had set her heart by thus mocking him, she could not forbear. Re- venge is sweet, and his cold contempt of a short time before had cut her to the very quick. Frank Spartan settled back in his chair, ban- ishing all anger, all interest from his handsome face, ‘** At your service, Mrs, Watkins. Pray don’t let me hurry you,” he said, quietly, feeling that he must meet her with her own weapons if he hoped to win the game. * First, you have more than an ordinary in- terest in hurrying up the finding of Franz sires Am I not right?” A slight inclination of his head was the sole response. She laughed, with just the suspicion of'a sneer in her voice, ‘You need not be so cautious, so reserved. The fair Amelia told me all, and more than, I ask you, Frank.” ‘The less need of my wasting valuable time, then, by repetition.” ‘* But if I prefer hearing it from your lips?” she persisted, His brow drew together, bis jaws squared, but it was only fora moment, He knew from past experieuice that there was little use in trying to drive her from a position once taken, unless by a greater waste of time than he could ey then afford. And he knew, too, that Amelia must have told her something of the truth, if not the whole story, from the amount of knowledge she had already exhibited. All this passed through his mind in an instant, and his brows resumed their wonted smoothness as he spoke: ‘*T will set you a good example, Mrs. Wat- kins. It is true, 1 have the greatest interest in speedily finding Franz Moskau, or his grave, (E(6) JOO AMIE <S (ele) J