Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 385 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

~~ / —se> deepened my Wild Dick Turpin, the Lion of Leadville. ‘‘'The dickens she does!” coolly replied Turpin. “Ts she a Mormon, and have I been ‘ sealed’ to her? I certainly have no recollection of a cere- mony.” * it is as false as—” Thus far Meg spoke explosively, but the may- or put out his hand authoritatively. “You promised me you would use no intem- perate language,” he said, sternly. “Do you expect me to stand here like a mum- my while he tells his lies with the nonchalance of a born comedian?” she fiercely demanded. ** No; I must, and will, speak. He pretends not to know me, but your own face is less familiar to him than mine. We were children together ; he, Robert Bradstreet, and I, Margaret Greger- son. Ask him if he was ever in Kentucky, near Black Run! Ask him if he did not then make me his wife!” Dick Turpin was looking at her in what seem- ed to be the most genuine surprise. ‘Mr. Mayor, is this woman insane?” he asked, Meg stamped her foot furiously. _ “Tt's not your fault that I am in my right ‘mind. You have done enough to make me mad.” ; ‘““By George! you get mad quickly, then; I never saw you until a few months ago.” ‘‘T will take charge here,” said the mayor, commandingly. ‘‘ Madam, if you want any help you must act more reasonably. Sheriff, 1 must ask you to hear her statement.” ‘“Willingly, sir,” was the prompt reply. ‘I am anxious i see if there is a grain of truth in it. Of course it is absurd for her to say she is my wife, but her story will settle whether we have ever met.” Meg’s eyes were flashing, but she controlled herself by a strong effort, and accepted the chair offered her. Then she began her story. ‘*My name is Margaret Gregerson, and I was born in Kentucky, at a place called Black Run. I do not hesitate to say that my family were of the class known as ‘ poor whites ;’ honest poverty is honorable, and my folks were as honest as liv- ane Pee le could be.” ick Turpin could hardly avoid a laugh. He knew her, and the whole tribe of Gregersons, of old. They were *‘ poor whites,” but their honesty —that quality was with them like perpetual motion; it was indiscoverable. In point of fact they had been robbers, horse-thieves. drunkards and knaves in general; and the majority of the tribe had been coarse and ignorant. Meg was intelligent, but, otherwise, she was a true ** Gregerson of Black Run.” ; “Not far from us lived a rich man whose name was Bradstreet,” the woman continued, ‘Sond between him and my family there was a bitter feud. My father asserted that the Brad- streets had robbed his family of land they justly owned; but that occurred before my day, and have no definite knowledge on the subject. Let me speak of Robert Bradstreet—this man!” Here she made an imperious gesture toward ‘the self-styled sheriff. ‘‘ He was the son of our neighbor, and, when I was a ragged child, I remember sceing him, a fine young gentleman a year or two my senior, ¢o galloping past on his fleet horse. He seemed to me like a prince, but I was ordered not to speak to him, and he did not notice me at all. ‘“‘after that he was away at school, and it was not until I was eighteen years old that we ever spoke to each other. Then, one day, I met him by chance in the road near ourhome, He looked surprised; why, I did not then know. Now I can surmise. People called me pretty then, like a wild Gypsy queen, and my face aroused his ad- mirafion, He spoke, I answered, and it was half an hour later when we parted. “T went home ina tremor. I had talked with the son of our enemy, and I fear ed discovery. This did not happen, however, and I had a chance to think of hin, dream of him—ay, for I, an ignorant country girl, had surrendered my heart at once. Say what you will; blame me, if you will; 1 could not help it!” ' Her manner had grown dramatic, and her usual fierceness was Suse sufficiently curbed to make her manner impressive. But the mayor, keenly watching the supposed sheriff, saw only wonder on his face, ‘*‘ Nothing had been said about another meet- ing,” she resumed, ‘‘ but another meeting took place. I believe he searched for me, and I know that I welcomed him gladly in my heart; if not openly. After we met often, and each occasion infatuation. He seemed as far above other people that I knew, as Heaven was above earth, and 1 grew to worship him. ‘Unless he spoke falsely, he was not less af- fected. He soon declared his love, and, time and again, we mev and had interviews which were to me like oases in a wide desert. It wasa wonder that our secret meetings were never dis- covered, but they were not.’ So far she had been telling the truth, as far as she knew, except as to the character of her fam- ily. All this Dick Turpin knew; he now listen- ed closely to hear how she would manage the fictitious part of the narrative. ‘‘Binally he spoke of marriage between us, but there was the fierce family quarrel. Either one of us, or both. was liable to be killed by an- gry relatives when the truth was known, and it was plain that we must not marry and live where they could find us. What was to be done? ‘*T was filled with terror, but Robert proposed that we quietly leave the ape go West, meet in Denver and be married. I obeyed his re- quest. On my part I literally ‘ran away,’ leaving no trace behind me, but I know now that he told his father he was going to investi- gate a business chance, and went openly. ‘* We met in Denver, and were there married. It was no secret ceremony but one performed in church, as I can easily prove. Ican produce all the records and the minister.” Here she looked defiantly at Dick. ** What about the groom?” he asked, in a low voice, and then added: ‘*Go on!” ‘*We were married, and then settled down in Denver, living something quietly, but by no means in concealment. For three months Il was as happy as though my paradise had been a per- manent ohe, and he was all that I could desire. Then, one morning, he was missing. I was alarmed, and caused search to be made for him, I thought then, poor fool, that he had fallen into the hands of some of the city ruffians. ‘*My agents, however, traced him to the rail- road station, and it was found that he had taken a train for the East, alive andwell. Then came a letter from St. Louis which told the whole ter- rible truth. He had tired of me; I was desert- ed, and left almost penniless, ‘What followed I need not tell in detail, for it would be but a record of my long, heart- broken search for him. Isearched, never in a spirit of revenge, for I had not given up hopes of winning him back, but eagerly, prayerfully. I have found him at last, living here under his true name,” The mayor turned to the supposed sheriff. ‘‘ What have you to say to this, Mr. Brad- street?” Dick Turpin nonchalantly knocked the ash from his cigar. ‘* Simply that, judging by her rare gift of fic- tion, I think that this lady is the daughter of the original Munchausen!” CHAPTER XVI. JUDE IMPROVES HIS CHANCE. THE Lion of Leadville spoke with the utmost coolness. If he had been discussing the quality of the cigar he so placidly smoked, he could not have been more at his ease outwardly. The ie a looked puzzled, while Meg fiercely exclaimed: ‘* Dare you deny my statement?” “Most certainly I do. Such a string of fic- tions was never before put together in real life— if I am the man to whom they are applied. There may be other Robert Bradstreets, and you may be laboring under an honest delusion, but I am willing to take my oath that not only did I never marry you, but that not one word of your story is true as tomyself. Whether I originated in Kentucky, Colorado, California or Labrador, is my affair and nobody's else; but I will swear that I never courted or married you!” Meg’s eyes were flashing again. ‘* Tt is false—false as perdition!” she cried. ‘*She has told a strong story,” said the mayor, hesitatingly. ‘‘It sounds well on the surface,” ‘* A good many fictions do.” ** Villain!” Meg exclaimed; ‘‘ you shall pay for these insults!” She quickly drew a revolver and turned the muzzle upon Dick, but with a spring as light and easy as that of a panther he was at her side in an instant, and the dangerous weapon was rites away. He passed it to the mayor with a bow. ** Pray take charge of this toy for a few min- utes. I observe that there is a good deal of lead init. Now, my friends, this matter may be set- tled in a very short time, Mr. Mayor, if you will step into the other office, post your men outside the door so that I cannot run away, and give me a private interview of five minutes with this lady, Pll wager something that all can be amicably settled.” Meg at first protested against this arrange- ment, but a hope that he might really be weak- ening, despite his bold exterior, led her to con- sent after some sperring at words. They were accordingly left together. ** Meg,” promptly said Turpin, as carelessly as before, ‘‘ [am sorry to see you mix so much fiction with the truth which you told. I need not separate one from the other, for you can do that, but Ido not want you to persist in your claim.” ‘¢ Well, I shall persist, and produce necessary witnesses,” she defiantly replied. ‘ Perjurers, you mean.” ‘**Call them what you will.” ‘“*I suppose your object is revenge—or is it money ?” ** Both.” **'You are frank.” ‘* We are now alone.” ; ‘Just so, Well, I’ll be frank, too.” ** Go on!” ** You must drop your claim.” ** Never!” / Oe a i — _—__O_———— — —— — — oneal _ : wees ee a a 13 ‘ “*Oh! yes, you will, and this is why: Meg Gregerson, I know more about you than you de about me. Perhaps you remember how you one night tried to kill the hero and villain of the story you have lately told—Robert Bradstreet— myself, That, you know, was after the gay young Rob of that day—I am now getting old— 1ad found out that you were a tiger-cat. This was the sequel to that love-affair, you know, in- stead of a bridal term in Denver.” ‘* Come to the acid What have you to say?” she impatiently demanded. ‘Only this: After you failed to commit mur- der, you fled from Black Run to California. There you married a man named Donaldson; an old man with some money. At the end of a year he died suddenly. You, as his widow, asked for his property. Unluckily, some miser- able villain suggested that the dead man’s storrach be analyzed. This was done, and uantities of arsenic found there. It was proved that you purcbased the stuff; proved eet you gave it to your husband with your own hands. A warrant was made out for your arrest, but it was never served. Why? Because the sheriff, taking a fancy to you, burned the warrant and eloped with you. officers of the law, but I tell you, Meg, that un- less you let me wholly alone, and withdraw your complaint, I will send you back to California to be hung for your husband’s murder!” Commencing slowly, Dick Turpin’s speech bad become rapid and intense, and his gaze was a terrible one to the guilty woman, She had gone through the varying shades of surprise, doubt, fear, dismay and utmost con- sternation, and at the close, cowed and appalled, her whole form shook as though with palsy. It seemed to her that Dick Turpin’s words were so many daggers driven to her heart, and that sparks of fire shot from his flashing eyes. There is nothing too impossible for fear to sug- gest. At the last words she clasped her hands. **Merey!” sheexclaimed, ‘*‘ Have pity on me, a miserable woman!” ** Had hs any pity for me?” . **Oh! [ was mad, mad!” ‘*Mad for revenge!” he dryly observed. ‘* Well, are you ready to withdraw your charge against me, and leave me forever alone if I w let you go free?” “*T will. I swear it!” Turpin smiled grimly. ‘* Your oath is made of thinnest gloss; I rely more on what I shall hear you say to the mayor, May I call him out?’ se Yes. 7 ** And you will retract?” cE Wu ‘So be it then.” ‘ He dictated what he wished her to say, and then walked to the inner door and asked the mayor to step out. He came, looking sharpl at the other two. Dick motioned to Meg with calm courtesy. ‘* Let her speak!” he said. ‘*T have made a mistake,” said Meg, looking down, and nervously closing and unclosing her fingers. ‘I was sincere in what I said, but a similarity of names led me into error. I | satisfied that this gentleman is not my husband; draw my complet against him.” The mayor looked greatly relieved. “That settles it!” he announced, it hard to believe anything against our worthy sheriff, and am glad to see him fully ex- onerated.” ‘*Her mistake was quite excusable. Why, I even look like the Robert Bradstreet she knew,” says.” was bitter, indeed, for Meg. She could not stay to hear more, and, as coherently as Pome she said a few farewell words and left the of- ce. She went, but, once out of their sight, her “ae assumed an expression like that of a e end is not yet. The very argument he used te disarm me is additional reason why I should grind him under my heel. Heknows toomuch— far too much—for my safety. One of us rs die, and if human efforts can avail anything fi shall be Rob Bradstreet!” At the same moment the self-styled Brad- street was receiving the congratulations of the mayor, but he did not lose much time in that way. It was already past the time when he had agreed to take Sibylla Marcy to ber new refuge, for this interview had taken considerable time; the mayor and hastened to the hotel. When he arrived there he called for ‘* Mrs. Marcy.” ‘*She’s just gone out, swered. “What?” . ‘* Just gone out. A gentleman came ina car- down with the children and went away.” Dick was momentarily dumfounded. He re- alized that a trick had been played, and that he Gomicbooks.co You were not found by the © that he is nothing to me; and I desire to with- “T found | blandly added Dick Turpin; “at least so she ‘All this was very well on the surface, but it riage and sent word up to her, and she came ‘ 1 * ; t 7, : ’ . wl vad os “ 5 \ , nd. ‘““T'm beaten for now,” she thought, “but the ‘4 + - ' ' and, as soon as possible, he made his excuses to s 4] . ? ee ae * sir,” the clerk an — <a 4 a eek 4 bare — oe