Beadle's Dime Library No. 412 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

“Oh, Mr. Paul, do you think so?’ she said, earnestly. ‘‘ Larry says how you was bred to be a lawyer. Won’t you defend him?’ ‘*Certainly I will,” said Paul, with some hesi- tation; but I warn you that I have not been ad- mitted to the bar; 1 will do the best I can. The first thing is to get him admitted to bail.” Molly drew him to one side to whisper: ‘* No, that’s not the first thing, Mr. Paul. I daresn’t tell any one but you, but I’m afeard { I’ve been robbed of all the money we had saved | to py, off the mortgage.” aul, much concerned, asked where it was, ‘and Molly began to cry again. ‘*T bid it where I thought no one would find it, but when I took the baby I was that frighted I clean forgot it. It’s in the mattress of our ‘bed, Mr. Paul. Feel at the bottom, There’s a slit there, and it’s pinned inside.” ‘‘ All right,” said Paul, hastily, “Pll go and look for it. Wait till | come back.” He went away, to return half an hour later wery pale, arg the $ "My poor Molly, the money’s gone.” CHAPTER XV. IN COURT. Mr. Justice WEEMS had just taken his seat .~on the bench next morning when he received a note handed him by one of the court officers which caused him to open his eyes wide and mutter to himself: ‘‘Hum! ha! very good, very good. Ill put him through.” ; The note came from his millionaire friend, Mr. Skinner, and concerned the case of poor Larry Locke, who was thus confronted at once by a prejudiced magistrate. The usual batch of ‘drunk and disorderlies,” was worked off when the magistrate called: **Locke, Laurence or Larry, complaint of felonious assault. Where’s the complainant?’ Mr. Scriven rose to say: ‘‘ Please, your Honor, I appear for him. He is in bed; unable to appear, owing to the effects of the prisoner’s atrocious violence. Here is the affidavit describing the assault, and the sur- eon’s certificate of the injury. We offer Mr. omas Trainor for first witness.” The officer sitting by Larry nudged him, and he went and took his place before the bar, while ‘Tom Trainor was sworn. Paul Van Beaver went a and stood by him, when the juage asked roughly: “Who are you? What have you to do with this case?” ‘**T appear to defend Mr. Locke,” said Paul, in his quiet way, “‘and also as an eye-witness of this whole affair.” ‘‘ Are you a lawyer?” asked Weems, scowling. ‘¢ Enough to know that one need not be a cer- tificated lawyer to plead in this court,” returned Paul. ‘‘We wish to cross-examine the wit- nesses,” : ‘*Certainly, certainly,” returned the magts- ‘trate, grufity. ““ Bad case, bad ease, Mr. Trai- nor, what do you know about this?” Tom, in a manner that showed he must have previously rehearsed his story, entered into a lib account of the transaction as he professed have seen it, from which it appeared to the judge that Marcellus Skinner had vary mildly told Larry to leave the works; that he had re- ‘fused so to do, and had picked up a sledge- hammer and struck his employer in the side, without provocation, When the story was over, Weems said to Paul with his usual gruffness: ‘‘Go ahead. Ask your questions.” Paul began quietly: “You say you saw Locke strike Mr. Skinner ‘with a sledge-hammer, Do they keep such Spee by the pay table?” “T don’t know,” said Tom, sullenly. “TI don’t know where he got it. I pr they had it hidden among them.” ** Did you see the whole affair?” *, eS, said Tom, decidedly. “‘ Every bit of “ And you're sure he had a sledge hammer?” **’Yes, I tell you.” “Did Mr. Skinner strike at Locke at all, that ” He just ordered him out and he nohow.” ‘He didn’t even put his hands on him?” **No, I tell you.” “Didn t he strike at him and miss him?” ° ** Not that I saw.” ** Are you sure he might not have done so?” “Yes, Lam. I saw it all.” “That will do.” Tom stepped down and wiped his forehead damp with agitation. The magistrate turned to Skinner. “‘ Any more witnesses ‘‘ None now, sir. We move commitment.” “ Very well.” Then he turned to Larry. _ “ Well, what have you got to say” Paul Se ‘We deny the whole thing and waive an ex- samination. We can bring fifty witnesses, but they are all in the mills, and I learn this morn- : te ,8 ca ; +s was . al F I saw him use it. : ing that this young man Trainor has threatened them all with discharge if they come here to testify. We ask to be held to bail in a reasou- able sum.” The judge bent his brows. ‘Hum! ha! this is an aggravated assault with a dangerous implement. I shall have to make it five thousand.’ Larry uttered a low groan. ‘* Five thousand!” Paul checked him with a gesture. ** Your Honor, rather than submit to such a bail as that, Ill take the stand myself. I saw the whole thing.” ‘* Very well, very well,” said Weems, gruffly. “Tell your story, and Mr. Scriven can take his turn cross-examining.” Mr. Scriven rubbed his hands and looked as if he were pleased at the prospect, but as Paul told his story his face lengthened, and when it was over he said hastily: ‘That puts a different face on the matter, your Honor. I fear my client has deceived me, and himself, too, in his irritation. Iam willin to let Locke go on his own surety to appear. understand he owns property —” ’ ‘* Yes,” said Larry, eagerly, ‘‘ a house and—” Paul pulled his sleeve and he stopped. “Yes,” pursued Scriven, rubbing his hands. ‘¢ We are prepared to be lenient. We will take his personal bond to - ear.” “Very kind of you, I’m sure,” said the judge, trying to look bland, and so the matter was ar- ranged at once. Half an hour later Larry walked out of court a free man, and took his way back to his own cottage with Paul. The young man was delighted at his easy es- cape, and kept thanking Paul all the way, till he noticed that Van Beaver was very silent and ab- stracted. Then he asked: “What's the matter, Mr. Pawl?) Are you out of sorts? What’s happened?” Paul had not told him of anything that had happened the. night before. e had not bad the heart to add to poor Larry’s troubles when he was still in prison; but now he felt be had to tell it all. ‘*Larry,” he began, gently, ‘‘i suppose you know [ went to your house last night to see Molly’ and that’s how I learned of your ar- rest. Es Yes, Mr. Paul. wrong? His i rae cae were already awakened, and Paul turned them away skillfully by refer- ring to his own troubles, ‘* No, Larry, but you'll wonder why I came to be going out there, and why I’m not at the office ree won't you?” ‘**No, no, Paul. I thought it was just your good heart, like when you first met me.” ‘“* Well, to tell you the truth, it was not that. The fact is, my uncle turned me out of the house last night, and I went to you to beg a night’s lodging.” **And you shall have it,” said wc Hage yees ‘‘as long as there is a roof over m d and Molly’s. We won’t gobackon you. It’s a mean shame, all along of that sneaking Trainor. I'd like to put a head on him, and I b’lieve I will when this trouble’s over.” ‘* The trouble’s not over,” answered Paul very gravely. ‘‘ When I went to your house I found the door open, MoKky gone—” Larry uttered a cry and staggered hack. ‘** Moll gone!” healmost shrieked. ‘* My Moll! It can’t be—what—how—” ‘* Be quiet,” interrupted Paul firmly. ‘ Be quiet and hear me out. Molly had taken the baby over to John Maguire’s for safety. She’s all safe. Don’t be afraid. But the door was open, and a man was in the house hunting for t ngs. He heard me and ran. I chased him, and he dropped part of his plunder. But new Larry, bear up. Here comes the worst. I find from Molly she had hidden some money in a mattress. It’s gone. That’s what I wanted to tell you.” To his surprise, the news seemed to affect Larry but little; for he drew a sigh of relief and answered quietly: “Is that all, Mr. Paul? I thought i was worse than that. 1 thought—never mind.” ‘Why, Larry,” said Paul amazed, ‘“I thought to hear you rave at this. Mally told me of it with tears in her eyes. Said it was all her savings to pay off the mortgage on the place." threw I Did you find anything Larry his head proudly. ‘Tis not a little thing Fike that worries me, Mr. Paul. I can care of myself as long as Pve these two arms. Six years ago I came here a ragged tramp. *I'was on this very road ou met me. I hadn’t but eighteen cents in he world. Now I’ve earned a house and lot, and I’m not going to give it up easy. Do you remember what you gave me when I first saw you, Mr, Paul?’ Paul smiled carelessly. * A sure I forget. Tittle enough. ou you hadn*t been gone three minutes before a bi mp called Terror Jim tried to go arcu me. I knocked him stiff and me only a boy. \ , kee J . ff —— 4 * . . 4 Larry Locke, the Man of Iron. | ; ' ’ | | } i ave me a dollar and five cents, and | | 11 Now some one’s a-trying to take my house from me. I tell you, Mr. Paul, they’ve called sane a Man of Iron and they’ll find me so.” CHAPTER XVI. THE MORTGAGE. Mr. MARCELLUS SKINNER, looking paler than his wont and a good deal thinner, but restored to health again, his broken ribs healed, was driving into Holesburg, three months after the, little trouble at the mill, with Tom Trainor on the dog-cart seat beside him, when they passed a cottage and saw a comely youug woman spreading some linen to dry in the garden, Ma while a baby lay in its cradle in the open air, 4 kicking up its fat legs and crowing. ie Tom nudged the millionaire, saying: Ly ‘“‘That’s Locke’s cottage, sir.” i Skinner scowled and cursed under his breath, observing: : ; & “I'd like to get even with tbat fellow. Scriven says the assault’s no good, with all those men ready to swear I struck first. [ wonder what has become of him? Have you heard?” Tom nodded. aa “He's working out in Ohio, and that fellow Paul’s with him. He'll have to soil his white hands, curse him!” Skinner grinned approvingiy. os ‘That's right, Tommy boy, Curse him well, He thinks he’s a fine fellow, because he’s a Van Beaver, and because the will makes him next (| heir, but we'll show him, someday.” i y Tom made an impatient grunt. ae ‘“Why couldn’t ye have the will fixed dif- f’rint?’?. he said, sullenly. ‘‘ You was round, — 3 you told me, and got the old man to alter it. Why couldn’t he alter it so I'd get a sheer? I’m his flesh and blood, as much as Paul.” Oe ‘‘That ain’t the reason, Tommy boy. Ihad © a hard time to get him to do what he did, and ft he wouldn’t ha’ done it, only be was down sick, sy and i worked on it. Hello! Why, theres Scriven a-comin’ this way. What does he — want, I wonder?” pa: sai They saw the lean lawyer, who had a yellow, — dried-up appearance, coming up the road bee 235 hind a sober old black horse, as they left Larry’s — tags cottage behind them. \ on ‘‘ Hello, Scriven, where away?’ asked Skin- ct >! ner, as the dog-cart met the old black. Oe Mr. Seriven pointed with his whip to the cot 9 tage at the top of the hill. tae at Fnaegss yonder to collect some money,” he — ee. Skinner turned round in his seat, and hisface — lighted up with eagerness. a. ve “Not at Larry Locke's?’ he said, in tones — that trembled in spite of himself. oa Scriven nedded. oe ‘‘That’s the man. Let me see: you had some oh trouble with him, didn’t you? Dve almost for- gotten. I’ve so many cases.” : ee Skinner kept down his emotion, to say inan — oe : indifferent manner: ee Ee “Yes. I'd almost forgotten it myself. Does he owe you any money?’ et Ne, “No, not me. A client of mine. Old Peter Briggs. He lends out a good deal on mort- — gages. There's a little balance left. That’s all, — -day.” i) ees He was shaking up his horse, when Skinner ie said eagerly: : oe ‘** By-the-by, if you have any trouble about . « it, let me know, and Ill buy the mortgage from Briggs at the face valueany time. Iam looking for investments all round, you know, and muort- gages are always safe.” oe criven nedded rather coldly. rile can Pi. “Tl tellhim. Good-day.” Poe Then he drove on, and Skinner began to chuckle to himself, till Tom asked: vace: J ‘‘ What’s the matter with yer?” veyhan te ys +5 Skinner smote his knee and chuckled more - than before as he said: (ae “Tommy boy, Pve got the darned KAY I’ve got him, Ll reckon. I’m agains vo ster. I know him like a book. Oh, if I bad only ~ known this three months ago! I remember — hearing how he’d .b’en robbed, but I _ never * dreamed of such a bit of luck as this.” 1 At TAS “Why, wens: d'ye mean?” — Tom, cross : y. ou’re allers havin’ secrets, you are. Ca ‘‘Secrets?” echoed Skinner, with another ‘ No, Be “ : eep. y had. it in , ~ chuckle of deep enjoyment. to keep, too good to on’t you remember how ‘ee P paper, the time that devil, Larry, was station-house, how he nigh killed a tramp Terror Jim?” Pa ‘Well, what of that?” asked Tom, sulkily, ‘** Only this, Tom: I seen that tramp, and he 4 ger te Hates “When? at did he tell ge ee “It was a good week after the muss, Tommy, boy, and when I was beginning to come down- stairs, that a man asked to see me, and in a name I couldn’t well refuse.” oa: Tom looked at him with surprise. Oeiteen ek ‘‘ What name was that?” | 6 a on ca ‘“ Never you mind, Tommy,” said Skinner, in an evasive way. ‘I’ve seen & good deal of this world before I came home to see the old man — and e my peace. Anyway I knew Terror — Jim. Me and him were once aboard— Nev : eEOMmMIEDOOCKS >. al ihe ¥ J ~~ ? ‘a * » “ > t~ ‘ —s i=