Beadle's Dime Library No. 395 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

_ Deadly Aim, the Duke of Derringers. a Te Ee _ ¥ 7% _ “No names, curse you!” grated Mack, in an angry tone, lowering his voice until only pre- ternaturally sharpened ears like those of the man in the adjoining room could have distin- hed the words. ‘* There may be ears about. he devil!” with a sharp aspiration, as though the fellow was ee struck by a particularly dis- agreeable recollection. ‘* The next room belongs to The Duke!” ‘Whose great-grandfather is he?’ growled Kearney, but in a much lowered tone. ‘ When | ‘that high-toned squirt sticks his nose into my affairs, there’ll be a deal in wax precious soon after, mind that !” By this time The Duke was out of bed, with his ear ‘peace lightly against the thin parti- tion, fairly holding his breath les‘ he lose an im- rtant word or sentence. Thus, though the wo plotters had dropped their voices far below | their natural pitch, the gentleman sport had _ little difficulty in catching all that had passed _. between them. a ‘You can have the whole pie, mate,” and ‘The Duke smiled grimly as he imagined what a shrug accompanied those magnanimous words, ** When I knowingly rub up against the Duke | of Derringers, I want to have my will signed in | advance.” **Tt’s just such milk-and-water coves as you that makes him so terribly high-and-mighty,” . wled Kearney. ‘‘ Who elected him cock of hed the walk? When did he fight for the title?” - Not you, certainly!” ‘Perhaps you think I ain’t good enough leather for him? Maybe—” “You can’t quarrel with me, Tom, so spare your breath,” quietly retorted Mack. ‘‘ There’s no money in that for either of us. I’m free to own that The Duke holds over me, every time, but you needn’t follow my lead unless it pleases ps ou. ‘*That’s all right, pard, just so you don’t ask me to crow his song. Drop it, and let’s get _ down to plain business.” “Tf I only knew The Duke was out of his room, or sound asleep!” muttered Shoe-string Johnny. “Tf we don’t mention names, what matter?” “But we have mentioned names—worse luck!” _ irritably retorted the other plotter. ‘‘ Enough to set that devil on a hot scent if we are to fol- low the play marked out by—youw know!” There was a slight pause, accompanied by the sound of muffled footsteps, then a faint scratch- ing noise against the partition. The Duke | smiled faintly as he divined the truth. The men were listening for some sounds to tell them | whether the room was occupied. |. “T can’t hear anything,” came presently to _ his ears. “If he ain’t out, he’s sleeping too _ soundly to even snore!” _ Or listening, just as we are!” Well, what of it?” impatiently muttered Kearney. ‘‘We can hunt another hole to do our talking in, can’t we?” A> *‘ Not if Barringer is in there,” firmly added Ruth Mack, speaking with more distinctness than be- _ fore, ‘If he is, ’'m going to drop the game like a red-hot potato!” **Then where’ll I come in at?’ indignantly muttered his mate. _ **Where youcan. Try the boss yourself, but 7 ea ask me to play a hand. “I’m not worth much, I know, but I value myself too highly to go bucking against a stone wall like that.” Tf I didn’t know you so well, pard, I’d swear you was a coward.” ~~ “Swear it to yourself, then,” a little sharply. _ “That will be the safest way. If I do say it -_- myself, there’s only one man in all Orleans that Ym really afraid of: and that isn’t you, Tom.” ihe Moy he ain’t in, after all. It’s worth try- ing for, anyhow. Why not take a sly peep? _ There’s a transom over his door, isn’t there?” “yi 4 “My head wouldn’t fit in it if there is,” was the grim retort. ‘‘ You can try it on, if you’re $0 mighty hot for a row with The Duke.” a eg if I knew him as well as you do, I wouldn’t mind. You say you're going to drop it all if the fellow is in there?” * Dead sure I am!” _ ** Then, if he’s listening, he knows that much, . for you upecke loud enough to waken a Re - man. e don’t know me by my voice, T’ll tell r,t i what I'll do: you go and knock him up, if heisinthere. You can think up some excuse, — ean’t you?” “TT might,” dryly. ‘I owe him a few dollars, - _Tmight hand him that, I suppose.” aie « Good enough!” auaberedt: Kearney, cheerily. “Tf he vin’t in, no matter; we’re all hunk. If he is, you can draw out, and I'll take the job on my own hook and give you a good interest in the _. proceeds. How’s that suit you?” ay ke Barringer failed to catch the reply, if there was any, for he cautiously drew back from his listening attitude, casting a swift, compre- hensive glance about his little chamber. Clearly the persuasions of Tom Kearney in the end overcome the prudent fears of his com- oh af in evil, for shortly after he made his busi- _ ness-like proposition, the door of the adjoining ae ber cautiously opened, and a head was thrust out, keen eyes roving swiftly along the ‘narrow corridor. e pa There was no one visible in either direction, aes ee »# « "e4 | Sirs @. ‘ Van se 5 —~. *> +. » Sen ‘ 2 ¥ * é oe * ‘ $A and after a brief hesitation, Shoe-string Johnn wholly emerged from the room, and the red, bloated, evil face of Tom Kearney filled the place his own had recently occupied. ** All serene, eh? Noone afoot? That’s hearty! | Prepare to pay your honest debts, pard; but | here’s hoping you won’t have a chance to do it | this turn!” Advice easy enough to give, but not so easy for Shoe-string Johnny to follow. He really respected and admired the Duke of Derringers, only less than he feared his enmity. But he knew, too, that in case his fears were confirmed, there would be far less danger in backing out than in keeping on after all that had been so in- cautiously uttered. Secretly resolved to save himself by wey full confession in case Duke Barringer shoul answer his summons, Mack advanced and softly tapped at the closed door. No answer came. Again he rapped, this time louder than before, but the result was the same. He stepped back with a little shiver, feeling as though a bullet might at any moment tear its way through the frail barrier; but Tom Kear- | ney, grinning widely, tip-toed out of the other room, saying: ‘** You’re satisfied now, ain’t you? If he was in there, he wouldn’t stand all that hammering. Let’s get back to business.” But Mack shook his head, doubtingly. He could not get over the fancy that there was a trap under this silence. earney ground out an ugly oath. ** Tt wouldn’t take much to make me think you want to freeze me out of this little snap, Johnny! If I did—” A swift stride carried Mack to his side, his face flushing, his dark eyes aglow as he gripped an arm tightly, Srencta tock. § ** You’re so mighty bold, do the rest yourself. There’s the room, and the transom is open, as you can see. Crawl up there and take a look for yourself. If The Duke isn’t in, then PU talk all the business you like.” Though he spoke so earnestly, his voice was far too low for even a sound to pass beyond the closed door. Kearney turned a shade less florid, and his smile was rather a sickly one, but he did not hesitate long. To do him justice, he was pos- sessed of brute conrage enough, else he would never have lived up to the words he then ut- tered: ‘**Give me a lift, and I'll do it!” ‘* And get a bullet through your empty skull for pay?’ “Two can play at that game, Johnny,” slip- ping a revolver from its secret pocket, ‘‘ Give us a back, and mind you don’t slip or scratch on the door. Unless he’s watching for just such a trick, I'll have the drop on him before he knows it! Shoe-string Johnny yielded, though with many misgivings as to the result. Still, it would not make matters much worse for him, should The Duke really be on the alert and listening. Kearney would surely take the first bullet, and he might leap out of range before a second messenger could tear its way through the closed door, Stealing forward he braced his hands on his knees, arching his back and bowing his head, while Kearney silently slipped off his boots. Light as a cat the desperado climbed upon his living footstool, pistol cocked and ready for a snap shot in case of need, holding his breath for a moment as he crouched beneath the open tran- som. Then, with swift celerity, he raised his head and took in the whole interior at a single glance, ready to duck or shoot as occasion might warn him. Instead, he kept his position, sweeping the room more thoroughly with his eager glances, even going so far as to thrust his head through the opening, to make sure the Duke of Der- ringers was not lurking in one of the corners out of his first range of vision. | . To all appearance the chamber was wholly unoccupied. CHAPTER IV, THE DUKE GROWS INTERESTED. ““STrrapy, pard, unless you want to see me hung before my time!” Tom Kearney muttered, warningly, as he felt his support waver a little, Strive all he might, Shoe-string Johnny was unable to drive away the disagreeable fancy that the Duke of Derringers was at that moment calculating the precise point in the door through which he must send a bullet in order to insure its most effective work. Perhaps that was the reason why the shot had not come before. The Duke was waiting for clumsy Tom to stick his’ head through the narrow transom, when the abrupt deprivation of his foot-rest would play the part of hangman and thus kill two birds with the one bullet. Ugh! ‘‘ Brace up a bit. Johnny,” added the spy, his voice telling his confederate that his head was now fairly through the oe “It’s all right, I reckon! The critter ain’t to home, unless he’s so bad scared he’s shrunk enough to crawl into the water pitcher over yonder!” ‘You're certain?” quavered Mack, still with that strange, unaccountable sensation of being > : Pa 5 De - - Se a 4 i under fire, of having his life held at the finger- tip of the surest man with a derringer in all the South. ‘‘ You can find no signs of his having been in the room?” ‘*Slide up and take a squint for vourself, ard,” laughed Kearney, as be withdrew his ead and dropped silently, cat-like, to the floor. ‘* Maybe I’m going blind. Maybe I can’t tell a man when I see it. Maybe I’m the fool and you’re the man of sound horse-sense. But it would call for a monstrous heap of mighty keen arguing to make me believe one or t’other, now I tell ye!” Thus the red-headed ruffan grunted while pulling on his boots, but still Shoe-string Johnny was not satisfied. It could hardly be possible that Tom Kearney had overlooked a man the size of The Duke, and yet— ‘* Some one occupied the room last night, for the bed has been slept in,” added Kearney, straightening up and giving his trowsers a set- tling shake by way of completing his toilet. ‘‘ If it was Barringer, he must have pulled out before we come in.” ‘*[ could have sworn he was in there—I can almost take oath to that effect now!” muttered Mack, uneasily, glancing up at the transom. His companion gave a snort of disgust, then planted himself against the chamber door, growling: ‘*Shin up and look for yourself, then! Satan twirl me on his spit! if ever the likes o’ you crossed my suit before to-day! Up ye go!” Shoe-string Johnny hesitated a moment. He felt that The Duke must be within the room. Instinct, superstition, something told him this, directly in the face of reason. What if the gen- tleman sport was simply biding his time until his face should show itself through the transom as a fitting target for one of those big-mouthed derringers? : ‘*Up, if you’re going to!” with a twist of his red , ee and side glance from his bleared blue eyes. ‘‘ Want to keep on this way until some one catches us didoeing about another gent’s room?” Te Shoe-string Johnny crept up the broad back and stood on the massive showliieet, his pale face on a level with the open transom, his wildly dilated eyes taking in at a single glance the major part of the room. He full expected to see the Duke of Derringers staat ing at ease, smiling coldly at his jetty eyes glanced over a leveled pistol. Instead, he saw aroom in disorder, just as it might have been me by one who had passed a night in slumber there. The bed was rumpled, the covers thrown downand back. There was water in the wash pe standing beside the pitcher. But that was all, There were no garments on the chair or floor, no boots near the bed. He could see half-way under that frail. article of furniture, and felt that even a cat could not be sheltered from ob- servation there. Still he was not content. That mysterious remonition of evil and disaster still assailed im. He searched the walls for a closet door but none was ‘visible. He thrust his head through the transom, and carefully inspected the two corners which at first were beyond his range of vision, just as Tom Kearney had done before him. Like Tom, he failed to detect aught suspicious, and like Tom he dropped silently to the floor, convinced at last that his fears had no foundation in truth. ‘““Yowre the hardest fellow to satisfy that I ever met!” grunted the red-headed desperado as he drew his massive form erect and moved to- ward the other room. ‘‘ You are satisfied, I suppose?” ‘I've got to be,” rather doggedly returned Shoe-string Johnny. ‘* Anyway, just so we can get back to the business you jumped in such a hurry to go hunting for mare’s nests. I’m getting hun for a square bite at that precious pie!” chuckled Kearney. ** Look out that the first mouthful den’t choke you!” muttered Mack, as he followed Tom into he room, closing the door and turning the key in the lock with vicious emphasis. The click was sharp enough to penetrate the oF ry room, and as though this was the sig- nal for which he waited, Marmaduke Barrin- ger pushed aside the clothes hanging over the foot of the bed and silently stole out of his hid- ing-place! : He had heard just enough to wish to hear more, and when the plotters in the adjoining room spoke of investigation, a single glance showed the gentleman sport his one chance of escaping detection. ; Silently gathering up his clothes and boots, he crept under the low bed, curling up near the foot and against the wall, where the carelessly disposed coverlet and sheet would aid in con- cealing him from the eyes of any one peering through the transom. His door was locked and bolted, and of course the plotters would not dare attempt forcing itopen. If they tried burglar arts—well, the police would find Tom Kearney ready for their clutches, and Shoe-string Johnny might get a scare sufficient to bring forth the whole truth. ; | (FCO MMLCE nted Kearney, A cy Re Ee