Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 416 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

he would like to object in a fashion still more emphatic than by simple words, but something in those clear, eonee eyes warned him not to go too far, ith an ugly look from the cor- ner of his eyes toward the ex-conductor, he sunk back in a chair. Medea followed his example, as far as seating herself was concerned, motioning Monte Jim to do the same. In silence he obeyed, and for a brief space there was perfect silence, Medea gazing at the floor, as though puzzled how to gin. Not for long, however. Then she spoke rap- idly: T When you were facing those men who were calling aloud for your life, I addressed you hy a name different from that which you gave me night before last, on the train. Wiil you tell me frankly, without reservation, which name is rightfully rours? Are you James Ince, or are you Lloyd Pennington?” ‘‘ James Ince is the name I go by, ma’am, when the boys wish to be extra polite; every day, I’m Monto Jim, the Black Sheep of Bis- marck,” \.as the quiet response, ‘‘ But is thet your rightful name? Were you never callei Lioyd Pennington?” persisted Me- dea, eying him closcly. A faint smile swept over the handsome coun- tenance of the card-sharp, but there was little _ delay in giving his answer: “Since you pin me down to sober facts _ ma’am, ri own that I was once called Lloyd Penninzton.” ‘The son of Craig Pennington, and_nephew of Stephen Pennington, of Chicago? Haijlf-bro- ther to my cousin, here?” persisted the young ‘woman, as though resolved to make no mis- take. Monte Jim bowed silently. ce With a low sigh that was not altogether one of relief, Medea Pennington leaned back in her chair, her eyes once more drooping, the tran- -_ sitory flush abandoning her cheeks, Her tone - sounded hard and forced, as though she found _ the story a very difficult and trying one to utter; but not once did she falter or pause, save when interrupted by one of her auditors, _. When my poor father lay dying, he called me to his bedside, and told me a terrible story, Diddin me spare no pains in searching for one whom he had steed | wronged in the days gone _ by; to spend money like water, if need be, but to never abandon the quest until I bad found “ae fe Pennington, or become positively assured tha he was dead. _ * When I did discover him, if living, I was to tell him the whole truth, without a single reser- -_-vation, no matter how hard I might find it bore upon me to say the criminating words. Tn obedience to that sacred vow, given when *~ a Se the dews of death were on his brow, with his -_ eold hand in mine, his painfully eager look upon (Pam *ow- é a ¥ _ / not fit—you have been tried far + - A brief pause, face, I have spent six months in hunting for d Pennington, only finding him this night, And now, thongh the confession comes bitter as gall on my lips, I will tell bee what that dying man told me with his last few breaths of life’” _' * Onee more, Miss Pennington, I beg that you Ww ne this revelation to which you al- ‘You are oO severely al- _ ready. Surely, one more day will not matter.” aa. * You are kind, but I must go on. I dare not _ falter. I would see the reproachful face of my _. dead father—no, no! I must finish my story now, if it kills me!” then she resumed: “Craig and Stephen Pennington were half- _ brothers, and partners in what every one be- lieved was a most prosperous business, They -_ were accounted among the richest merchants in » city, and their name was good for almost amount on ’Change. d Monte Jim, earnestly. <A ' "bs ‘yf eee 3 _ * Tloyd Pennington, son of Craig, by his first model of honor, and in the absence of the wife, was one of the head clerks in the store, though then quite young. He was a little wild, rumor said, but otherwise he was a goin ae A - ners, he frequently took entire charge of the get ess. ‘This fact told heavily against him _ when the blow fell. ‘Tt came one day like a thunderbolt out of _ aclear sky. Stephen Pennington unexpectedly returned from a journey East, and he had scarcely been at the office an hour, before a dispatch was sent - gummoning his partner, Craig Pennington. He came promptly, and the partners held a long c. ‘Jeonsultation with locked doors. When they opened, it was to admit Lloyd Pennington, who -- was charged with forgery for heavy amounts. © He seemed bewildered by the charge, and his answers, so different in tone from his cus- tomary quick, frank business manner, only served to still further condemn him in the eyes of his father, cold and hard man of business, The proofs seemed terribly convincing. <Any impartial jury must have sentenced as guilty any one brought before them with that weight of evidence against him. But Lloyd - Pennington, as soon as he could recover from the first benumbing shock of such a terrible charge, stoutly declared his perfect innocence, = ae Chale Pennington was, at best, a hard un- sympathetic parent, and from the date of his Av _ Ad : oe lal 2 : i 7 LPT ot. Fa A : ee CG LLL LLL LLL LL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL ett LT TT < e ~ : . bd Monte J im, the Black Sheep of Bismarck. re a ee ie ee ee —-—si—— second marriage, when Lloyd was only a few ears old, he had seemed to love his eldest son ess and less, treating him with great strictness, which grew more severe as his second son, his only child by his last wife, gained in years, As the word goes, there was little love lost be- tween Lloyd and his step-mother, and it was mainly her work that set the father so strongly against his eldest born. “This dislike showed itself now, and the father would not give ear tothe passionate de- nials of the accused. He acted as though he wished to believe him guilty, and while striv- ing to avert open disgrace from falling upon his name, he punished the assumed criminal as severely as lay in his power. ‘*Lloyd Pennington went out of that office, bearing on his head the bitter curses of his father who forbade his ever entering his old home, forbade his ever speaking to one of the family, under penalty of being arrested and prosecuted as a forger. ‘* As I said, the proofs against him seemed terribly clear, and Lloyd Pennington could on] bow to the sentence passed upon him by his stern parent. He knew that he could not clear himectf in the eyes of the law, and from that day he was never seen near his old home. He disappeared as completely as though he had never existed. His name was never mentioned by his relatives. it was as though he was dead and buried. ‘* Stephen Pennington offered to assume one- half of the losses consequent upon the forgeries, but Craig Pennington was honest, if so ccld- hearted, and refused to permit this. The sums were so heavy that he was severely crippled, and from that day on he was only given a third interest in the business, though only the part- ners themselves knew this, Medea paused to catch breath. A short, hard laugh came from the lips of Monte Jim, who had been gravely listening. ‘*Do you wonder that [I went wrong, with such a start in life?” he said, a mocking bitter- ness in histones, ‘‘ Is ita marvel to you, now, that I did not care to acknowledge the name of Lloyd Pennington?’ edea covered her eyes with one hand, while the other made an imploring gesture toward the card sharp. Her voice was hoarse and strained as she gasped: ‘*Don’t—pray don’t! If you only knew how very hard you are making my task, you would have mercy!” | Even Monte Jim seemed startled and per- plexed by her powerful agitation. He stam- mered: ‘““I beg your pardon—I didn’t think—” Her hand dropped, she flashed a keen glance into his face. ‘* But you must have known that the ouarge was false—that you were not guilty—only the scapegoat made to suffer for the crime of an- other! Surely you must have at least suspected who was the real criminal?” ‘* But I didn’t—I pledge you my word, Miss Pennington, Of course, I knew that I never committed those forgeries, but for the life of me, I couldn’t guess, even now, who did do it.” With an air that was almost defiant, Medea flung back her head and faced the card-sharp. Her face was pale as death, but there was no other sign of flinching, as she said: ‘* My father was the forger!” CHAPTER XXVI. MONTE JIM DECLINES A BRIDE, A BREATHLESS silence followed this announce- ment, Not one among those who heard the words but longed to console the poor girl, whose head was now bowed with grief and shame; but not one knew ae how to set about doing so, with the others looking on, ‘‘ Well, this is all news to me,” exclaimed Alva Pennington, who rather prided himself on his blunt straightforwardness, ‘' And so it was uncle Steve who got the chestnuts? Well, well, and I used to look on him as one of the elect! He seemed so and holy that I don’t believe I'd have thought it at all out of the way if I had seen the pin feathers begin to sprout on his shoulders, ‘Drop that, you /” muttered Monte Jim, with an angry look toward the speaker, asthe bowed figure of the maiden perceptibly quivered, the coarse words and coarser tone cutting her wourded feelings to the very quick. “It 1s nothing but the truth,” said Medea, aria? recovering from her brief prostration, lifting her pale face, choking back the tears which rendered her voice so husky and uncer- tain. ‘‘ Say plainly what you think. It is part of the punishment which follows every crime.” ‘* But don’t light on the right shoulders every time,” impulsively cried Monte Jim, his big blue eyes allaglow. “Jf you had been the one who uttered those forgeries, there might be some lit- tle justice in it; but when you’re innoccent as a babe unborn—devil fly away with such justice as that!” “It is nothing compared to what you must have endured all these years, bearing the weight of another’s crime. In place of pitying, you should rather curse me, as the child of the man who cast upon your young shoulders the load -, 7 pet >t * 7 « ‘ : ' . m, < . - a . pe % "> . 7 ai :* . = * - ' -— + ‘ie 5 —_— 0 ee Ae Oe OID Be 2 -——— of crime which he should have borne himself— who blasted your prospects, and turned you out. upon the world an outcast!” ‘*The worst crime your father ever commit- ted, was when he made you swear to tell this story,” earnestly uttered Monte Jim. ‘ For the forgeries, for his false swearing, I could for- give him, easily enough; but never this. He had no right to ask such a bitter sacrifice of you; and could I have imagined what it was you meant to ay, I should have refused to lis- ten. As it is, | beg of you to say no more.” ‘Or, if you must, wait until te-morrow,” urged Alva Pennington, suspecting that both Medea and Monte Jim were too powerfully moved for his interests to be perfectly safe in the hands of the card-sharp, even though he had pledged his word to refuse the offer which the maiden was bound to make, ‘*Since I have begun, I will finish,” said Me- dea, struggling to recover her composure. ‘If you flee from me now, I could never find cour- age to confront you again, and there remains. much for me to say before I can feel that I have kept the sacred charge left me by my poor father. In addition to this, I ask another favor of you, Lloyd Pennington.” a It is granted before uttering, Miss Penning- ton. “Thank you. It is this—that you will hear me through without further interruption. I know you did not mean it, but your laugh, and your bitter words just now pained me more than if you had driven a dagger to my heart, and makes my task a very hard one to perform, I assure you.” ‘‘T most humbly beg your pardon, Miss Pen- nington,” stammered Mcnte Jim, his handsome countenance flushing hotly. ‘‘ Til bite off my tongue and swallow it, before it offends you again. I’m a rough, ignorant brute, at the best, but I'd rather lose a hand than to give you one unnecessary pang.” ‘*Of course you would, and so would all of us,” cried Alva Pennington, shifting nervously on his seat, his anxiety increasing with the ex- change of each sentence. ‘I beg of you, Me- dea, to leave the rest in my hands. Let me tell Brother Lloyd what ren.ains to be told, while you 50 and lie down. First thing you know, you'll be down sick.” But the maiden shook her head, with a wan smile. “IT alone can tell the story, cousin. You hardly understand the mere outline. Besides, I am bound by my oath to tell all, and make full confession in the name of the dead! “Yes: my father, Stephen Pennington, was the forger! He confessed all to me while lying on his death-bed, and now I will try to make his motives clear to you. ‘‘ Against the better judgment of his half- brother, he entered extensively into specula- tions that promised immense profits, and in the end he lost heavily, though only the brokers he employed suspected tke truth. To cover these: losses, Stephen Pennington tcok the first step Pig WI dark path, hoping to make restitu- . tion before his evil deeds could be discovered. In this he was disappointed, and matters went. from bad to worse with him, until only a re- mote chance lay between him and discovery. He dared not trust entirely to this, lest it fail him so suddenly that he would be unable to. save anything from the wreck; and then it was that he set the trap into which you, Lloyd Pen- ning, fell through no sin of yours. ‘* He made it appear that for months you had been issuing false paper for heavy sums, really intending at the time to take these up again and destroy them, should his last hope turn out as profitable as he firmly believed; but the fates willed it otherwise. ‘*He received a telegram from a man with whom the firm did business, into whose hands one of the forgeries had fallen, and whose sus- picions were aroused. He hastened home, and saw that the blow could no longer be averted. It was either his ruin, or that of the scape- goat whom he had selected to bear the burden of his sins—and you know the decision he made. ‘*One week later Stephen Pennington was. richer than he had ever been, for his forlorn hope proved even more profitable than he had. dared dream of; but the blow had fallen, and he dared not tell the truth. ‘*Tt is very hard to utter such terrible truths: of one’s own parent; the more so when, until that black history was whispered for the first time, one has believed in his truth, uprightness, and honor, as one believes in the Bible! Terri- bly bhard—but even as death claimed his spirit, he reminded me of the sacred oath I had taken, to tell all, without reserve. ‘‘From first to last, the Penningtons have been a strange race. Their loves and hates have been very strong, but they rarely found vent in the usual channels. There have always been dissensions between them, and though they were partners in business for many years, the case of my father and his half-brother was not an exception to the general rule, ‘‘ After that first step along the downward | path, it was easier for Stephen Pennington to continue than to retrace bis steps. With his comicbooks Ma a . x a? * © ac"? | at | | if a eae - a le >