Beadle's Dime Library No. 415 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

» rocks together. * * om, * =) ~- —— Ee OE He stood upon a low cliff which faced the Pacific Ocean, and an arm of tu.at vast water washed the rocks at his feet. A point of land ran out seaward both above and below him, but that te the north was only a sandy beach and the wind had a good sweep there, Just then it was blowing off-shore, und the tiny sailboat which was making for land only gained distance by frequent tacking and the skill of the occupant. Night was over the land, and the watcher on the cliff stood in a deep sha'low where no casual gaze would have detected him, but the half-moon cast a pale light over the water and made the movements of the lone voyager distinct. There was every evidence that he was unusu- ally skillful, and he brought the craft toward shore in good form. ‘* Peters, sure enough,” finally observed the man on the cliff, *‘and he’s bound to get here all right. Why couldn’t he have lost control of the boat and gone tc the bottcm? It would have saved mea pile of trouble.” Muttering thus he desvended the rocks and reached the base just as the boat touched land. ‘““Tirow me the painter!” he ordered, in a harsh voice. The voyager obeyed, and then sprung ashore. *‘Glad tosee you, Mr. Nettleton!” he said, in a bluff, frank manner. Nettleton growled an unintelligible reply as he secured the painter to a point of rock. **T needn’t ask if you’re well, sir, for you’re looking as hale and hearty as ever.” ** Tm well.” The reply was curt, almost angry, and Peters looked at the speaker, as the latter stood erect, more closely. ** Hope nothing is wrong, sir.” ‘““Wrong?) What should be wrong?” Nettleton shot a suspicious glance at the late voyager. **T know of nothing, sir.” ‘*Then why do you ask?’ **T thought your manner was peculiar.” ‘* Never mind my manner!” It was a surly answer, but the speaker looked somewhat relieved, and he then added: ‘Have you obeyed all my directions?” ‘* Yes, sir.” ‘*- You came to Clifftown on the steamer, ar- riving at seven o'clock, and theu hired this boat at Jeffrey’s and came over at once?” ‘* Wxactly, sir, and, do you know, the old man cautioned me against running across Nigger Arwm in the teeth of this wind. Said I’d get up- set, sure.” ‘** Did he, though?” eagerly asked Nettleton. **' Yes, Of course he didn’t know I was an old sailor.” Peters took off his hat and ran his fingers through the thick black hair which stood erect upon hishead. He had a good face, and, though clearly not of the intellectual class, appeared to be an vonest and worthy man. ‘* Did you give him a history of yourself?” Nettleton asked the question looking sharply, suspiciously at the voyager. *“Not I. Lonly told him that ’twould take a bigger blow than that to send Bill Peters to Davy Jones’s locker. A man whose only knowl- edge of water life was picked up on the Cali- fornia coast ain’t the one to give points to an old sea-dog.” “‘ Right, Peters; you showed your usual good sense. And now we'll go to Coast Castile.” ** And the boat, sir?” “* Leave it here,” ** She'll chafe the before morning, sir. ‘‘ Never mind that; I'll send a servant to look to her.” This satisfied Peters, and they ascended the It was evidently a new locality to the sailor for he looked curiously around, but Nettleton strode along with his eyes bent on the painter in two and be afloat 4 o: ground, answering only in monosyllables. His peculiar manner caused Peters to look at him again curiously, but he made no comment. Paul Nettleton was a rich man, and Peters only his servant. They had, however, spent some years together, and their relations had been amicable. In their travels they had visit- ed Mexico, Central and South America, and had at last come to settle in the southern part of California on the ranch belonging to Commo- dore Nettleton, Paul's father, At least, Paul announced that he would settle d own, Peters had not yet been informed whether he would be retained or dismissed. Having gone about one-fourth of a mile young Nettleton suddenly aroused. ‘‘ Look ahead, Bill,” he said, ‘‘ and you will see one of the most picturesque things around Coast Castle.” Peters looked. “Do y ean them tumbled walls yonder?” ‘‘ Yes—the ruins of an old convent.” ‘That's what you call ge is it? I remember that you had sucha taste of old. J never could see any beauty in things gone to seed or to ruin.” . ie” 2 . ’ Ay : ‘ et a Ps ‘ A 4 i ‘ ; 2 4 Hot Heart, the Detective Spy. ES en a <n stood the convent, but, long before, it had been abandoned as such and the spirit of decay had claimed its own. In some places the roof had fallen in, tearing a part of the walls down with it, and making a ruin w ld and picturesque in the extreme, At one side stood what seemed to have been a dis- tinct building, and this, being lighter at the bs eae resisted the band of time, ith the moon falling full upon it, and errat- ically blending light and shade, it was, indeed, a place to delight an artistic eye. ‘*Come inside,” said Nettleton. ‘‘ You can’t comprehend the full glory of it bere,” Peters, as has before been said, lacked an ar- tistic eye, and he could see no “‘ glory” what- ever, but, perceiving that his master was in a moody state of mind, he was willing to humor any fancy that would please him. hey entered the ruins at a breach in the wall, the former entrance being filled with fallen blocks of stone, It was like entering a tomb, and though the place was neither cold nor damp, Peters shiver- ‘*‘ Be the old monks buried here?” he asked. ‘‘ Not that Iam aware of. Why do you ask?” ‘‘Tt seems spooky enough for it; reminds me of that old Mexican tomb we went through.” Nettleton started slightly. ‘*T see you still remember that.” ‘Rather! It’s hard to forget.” ‘*T hope you did not mention it at Clifftown?”’ ‘Certainly not, That’s your secret, not mine,” ‘There was a moment’s silence, duriny which Nettleton seemed in deep thought. Peters look- ed sharply about. The moonlight fell in the middle of the space between walls, but where they stood all was dark. ‘*T b’lieve I should like to see this hole by day,” Peters added, though he believed nothing of the kind. ‘‘ But it’s too dark investigating at night, and I can’t get rid of a ha’nting fear that the spirits o’ them old monks is a-perambu- lating around. I feel oneasy. If you don't object, Tll stand outside while you look around,” ‘*We will both go, I only wished to show you ths place, One mom nt, Peters, [ trust your aversion to this place does not rise from any sting of conscience. You havo no great sin on your record to account for?” Peters laughed. ‘*Not asin. I’m a happy-go-lucky chap, but there isn’t a blot on my ’scutcheon.” “T am glad. Now turn, William, and pass out.’ ‘* You bet!” Peters turned and took two steps toward.the breach in the wall. The third was not taken. While they talked Nettleton had stood with one hand in his pocket, and as the servant turn- ed, the hand was withdrawn and thrust out to- ward him. “ Then came a bright flash which for a mom dissipated the dark shadow and showed Paul Nettleton’s face strangely tense and white; a flash and a report, and then the shadows re- turned and a little cloud of smoke floated lazily out through the breach in the wall. When it was gone, Nettleton still stood there, but Bill Peters lay prostrate at his feet, as still as the walls of the old convent, and in a plight far more mournful, Paul Nettleton’s band shock as though with ague, and the revolver almost fell from his grasp. He had done a deed most foul, and his nerves were not so steel-like as to enable him to bear it op ae v. He had gone on remorselessly 9 the accomplishment of the deed, but now that the body was lying there so still and terrible, fear and dismay seized upon him. He remembere!t what Peters had said about the ghosts of the old monks, and looked about in fear and trembling. almost expecting to see a yhantom appear. If the place had not been haunted before, it surely had reason to be now, A measure 0 his audacity soon returned, how- ever, for it was not the first dark deed in his life, and he thrust the revolver back into his pocket and turned away. Moving a few steps, he bent over a flat stone, seized it and lifted stoutly. It moved, and he turned it over. Underneath was a hole extend- iy, mo he into the ground, and the fresh earth indicated that it had been recently made. He next went back to Peters, or all that was left of him, seized him by the arms and bore him to the excavation; after which the body was tumbled in without ceremony. It went down, struck with a heavy sound, and, as the grave was in shadow, became invi ible. Next, Nettleton produced a spade from under another stone, and began to refill the excavation with all possible haste. His composure had in a@ measure returned, and he worked to such good advantage, that the hole was soon filled, and three feet of dirt piled upon the body he had dumped in. This done, he replaced the flat stone and re- moved all signs of ms work as far as he was | perspiration called there more by fear than exertion. Gloomy and forsaken as the convent seemed, he had been terribly afraid of discovery, At last, however, the worst was over, and he began to feel more at ease. His spade he con- cedled once more, but not in the convent. In- quisitive eyes might find it there, but there was wg where it seemed safe; at tho bottom of Nigger Arm, So he went down to the water’s edge again, placed the spade in the boat, cast off the painter and put away from shore, At first the craft moved slowly, for the rocks broke the force of the wind, but after going a short distance, it struck the belt of wind which swept over the sand point, and, plainly, could havo been sailed across to Clifftown in grand style. ‘But Paul Nettleton had no desire to cross Nigger Arm; he had gone quite far enough, and he prepared to leave the boat. First of all, he dropped the spade overboard; then he threw the boat around so that the wind caught and over- turned her in a moment. He was a good swimmer, and, easily hovering at one side, he watched the capsized boat as it drifted away with the strong sweep of the waters. It was moving toward Clifftown, and must inevitably drive ashore there. This was just what he wanted, and with a satisfied smile he swam ashore, Once there he completely disrobed, rolled his wet garments into a bundle, and thrust it into a recess among the rocks, From a similar place he took out a second and dry suit, which he quickly donned. His night’s work then seemed nearly done, but he suddenly stopped, and a troubled look passed over his face. ‘* My revolver!” he exclaimed, ‘I had for- gotten that. Where is it?’ He had thrust the weapon with which he had shot Bill Peters into his pocket when the deed was done, and ther. forgotten it. The coat was in the bundle he had lately put away, but he felt sure the revolver was not there. He hur- riedly drew out the bundle and unrolled it. As he bad expected, there was no sign of the revolver, and he stood staring at vacancy in startled surprise. CHAPTER II. | WHO WAS HE? PavuL NETTLETON would not willingly have lost that revolver for a good deal of money. Bill Peters lay amid the convent ruins with a bullet in his y which would exactly fit the revolver, and the revolver lay somewhere, minus one cartridge. - The assassin did not expect that the body would ever be found, but it might. In any case, the loss of the revolver worried him. Had he known it was at the bottom of Nigger Arm he would not have cared, but he felt sure it was not there. ; He believed he had lost it in or near the con- vent. When he put it away it had been in the lower outside pocket of bis sack coat, and the coat had not been buttoned. Such being the case, the revolver would have flapped the Rock et against r Arm. him as he strode down Nothing of the kind occurred, and he felt sure the revolver had been lost in the ruins. He went there and searched for it, but found nothing. All these events had consumed a good deal of time; so much so that be was getting nervous. He could not remain to search any longer, but must back home, In the morning he could come again. Of course he could easily find the revolver then, and it would not be such disagreeable hunting. He was a practical, hard-headed man, but somehow, since the dark deed he had com- mitted, he fell to thinking of what Peters had said about the ghosts of the old monks. Surely, if there had Leen ghosts there before, there ought to be more abroad since murder had been done there. He thought of this; then told himself he was a fool; then left the convent and strode rapidly northward. Who was Paul Nettleton? Half a mile from the ruined convent stood one of the finest houses to be found in the southern B sie of California. It was the pro- perty of Commodore Nicodemus Nettleton, a re- tired mariner and man of wealth. He owned upwards of a hundred acres of land about Coast Castle, as he called his house, and grew some fruit in a business way, but he never cared a fig whether said business brought in a dollar or not. What did delight him was the fact that from any part of the west side of his house, he could see a portion of the mighty Pacific rolling con- stantly to, or from, the land. y He hed abandoned sea-life as a calling be- cause ho was an old man, but would not ge where h » could not see his loved element. He was a widower with one son and one daughter—Paul and Barbara, AY, «SH able. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as he did so, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead— i s The matter-of-fact servant lacked an artistic oa eye. The place, seen by moonlight, was wild and impressive in the extreme. There once ee Pied | <€om Gpoo