Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 419 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

The Bat of the Battery. —————— —_— -- **This blade, tiny as it is, took the life of your best men,” * Irving?” The Southerner nodded. ** Now, my friend, since I perceive you know something about this matter, let me say to you that it is not a question of how much you can get for what information you may possess. You eannot drive a bargain with me after showing your hand in this manner. The possession of this bit of steel proves that you bave a guilt knowledge of these outrageous crimes, and if you are not the principal you certainly must be an accomplice, and unless you make a clean breast of it right away, I shall be under the disagreeablo necessity of at once locking you up. ‘*Then Phenix will be in danger,” rejoined the man. The chief started. Was it possible that the prince of detectives had fallen into a snare? ‘*'W hat’s that you say?” he cried, ‘*T say that if you lock me up, aman about the size cf Joe Phenix will be seriously incom- moced,” responded the other, in an entirely dif- ferent voice, and then he laughed. The superintendent stared in surprise. Even his keen eyes and shrewd wits had been at fault. Phenix himself stood before him. ““T wanted to try the effect of my get-up, chief,” he explained, “‘and since it deceived you I reckon that it will pass muster anywhere.” Then the detective sat down and related to the police oflicial all that had occurred and his plans for the future. The consultation lasted until after twelve; the two left headquarters together, and as they came out into the silent street they noticed a policeman in full umform lying in the gutter in front of the building, They hastened to him. Tho man was stone dead, Actuated by a sudden thought, Phenix tore open his coat, vest and shirt, and there, on his breast, right over the heart, was the tiny wound which had stolen his life away. Again the secret assassin had stricken a dead- ly blow, and, in bold defiance, selected one of the best captains in the force, and then Icft the body in front of the Police Headquarters, It was a horrid mystery! CHAPTER XXVIII. ANOTHER MISFORTUNE. BiovunT had been the sleuth-hound who had | followed on the track of the girl until he obtain- ed a clew tothe way she had gone. But as we have seen, this clew could not be followed to avy decided results. The girl was traced to the train—she boarded it, bound for New York, and then disappeared as completely as though she had venihed into thin air. Blount had hunted up the conductor who had charge of the train that morning, but that official could not remember anything about any such passenger as Miss Mardol, although, as he frankly owned, unless there was something un- usual and ‘striking about the lady’s appearance, the chances were that he would not have noticed her enough to recall the fact that she was on the train, particularly after a lapse of time. Diligent inquiry among the railway officials in Jersey City and New York produced no re- sults, and at last Blount was forced to seek Mr. Lamardale and tell him that as far as he was concerned he could do no more, and then it was that the old lawyer advised the securing of the services of the experienced detective, Joe Phenix, but it took time to see Phenix, for he was b upon another case, as the reader is aware, and it was not until almost two weeks after the disap- pearance of the girl that any arrangement was made with him. And now we will trace the girl’s footsteps af- ter she escaped from the fisherman’s house, She had determined to try to get out as soon as possible, and after the old woman retired with the dishes in which the simple meal was served, she set to work. She discovered where the water had found its way into the cellar, a broken barrel-stave, for- tunately at hand, served as a tool, and it was not a hard matter to dig a hole under the edge of the house, through which she crawled to the ' Open air, Then she fled as rapidly as possible and, luckily, without attracting observation. She walked straight on; in time came to a railroad track and followed it until she arrived at the depot, where she purchased a ticket for New York exactly as the depot master had de- scribed, But in his statement to Blount, the station- agent had made a slight mistake, but a mistake which threw the searcher off the track. lt was in regard to the day and train that the girl had taken. She had gone on an afternoon train on Tues- day and the man believed she had taken the first | train on Wednesday. Only a slight matter, apparently, and under ordinary circums‘ances it would not have made any difference, but this time it did, The afternoon train ran off the track in cross. | ing one of the numerous bridges that abound on the Long Branch Railway and the train crashed through the frail trestle-work into the muddy stream below. | It was a fearful disaster. Happily for the passengers the water was not deep; if it had been | few of the three hundred odd travelers would | have escaped to tell the tale. But as it was, although assistance was near at ' hand, the people of the surrounding country flocking immediately to the aid of the sufferers, ten of the passengers were killed outright, while twenty were seriously injured, and among these unfortunate souls was our heroine. She had been stunned by the shock, and when in a senseless condition taken out of the car, it was at first believed she was dead. A careful examination disclosed the fact that life still remained, and althouga no wound ap- peared upon her delicate person, the doctors in- clined to the belief that she bad received serious internal injuries, and that her death was only a question of time. Among the people who had hurried to the scene of the disaster, eager to be of assistance, was a middle-aged lady who had been riding in a handsome barouche across the road bridge over the stream, which was only a few hundred yards from the railway trestle, and had wit- nessed the train break through the structure, She was deeply interested in the beautiful girl, and listened eagerly for the doctor’s opinion. ‘She is pretty badly hurt, [m afraid, yet still there may be a chance for her recovery if she has immediate attention and careful nursing,” was his statement. ‘““Tll take care of her and see that she does not want for anything,” the lady exclaimed. ‘* My carriage is yonder, and if you will have her conveyed to it, I will take her home im- mediately and send for my own family doctor.” The physician and the lady were well ac- quainted, and this offer took the doctor by sur- prise, for the lady was not one apt to be liberal in her ideas. Really glad however that a *‘ change of heart” had taken place, the doctor caused the senseless girl to be conveyed to the carriage, and the lady drove off. Her house was only a few miles away, being situated in the Little Silver region, so-called from the small stream, the Little Silver River, which flows into the Shrewsbury. The lady was un odd character, one of the celebrities of the neighborhood, and deserves particular mention. She belonged to the class popularly termed old maids, although in appearance she was far re- moved from the typical spinster, a tall and portly in person, with a really noble-looking ace, although it was marred by a stern and haughty expression. Miss Martha Brandon she was called, and she had resided in the neighborhood for nearly twenty years, being one of the first of the city people to improve the neighborhood by building a magnificent house. She was wealthy, kept up a splendid establish- ment, and altogether was a person of great con- sequence in the vicinity. She was respected and envied, but neither ad- mired or loved, for she did not court the friend- ship of her neighbors, but was distant and haughty in the highest degree, inclined to mis- anthropy, too, and always bitter and sarcastic in her comments upon the world. With a rod of iron she ruled her household, and, asa consequence, better trained servants were seldom seen, The madame, as she was usually termed, was despotic, and while she was careful to deal justly with all with whom she came in contact, woe betide the man or woman who attempted to get the better of her in any way. To avenge an affrontof this kind she would pour out “her money like water, and her neighbors who, like many of the cunning and asping country folks, thought the city lady to fair game, soon found to their sorrow that Miss Brandon was no one’s fool, but, with her long abs and her vindictive temper, was a most terrible person to affront. That such a woman should, of her own ac- cord, offer to take into her palatial mansion the injured ig perfect stranger, and one who seemed likely to die upon her hands, was an _— that astonished everybody in the neighbor- ood. Lesbia had suffered severely, but her injuries were far from being fatal, although for a week she lay in a critical state, being strictly forbid- den by the doctor to speak or exert herself in any way, and thus it was that the ubiquitous re- orters, who flocked to the scene of the accident, ike vultures to the banquet of blood, did not get her name and publish it in the list printed in all the daily journals of the sufferers by the calamity. The madame watched over the girl with as much care as the most loving mother could give to an only daughter, and when at last the phy- sician declared the critical moment had passed, and that there was no doubt of the girl’s com- nese recovery, the joy that the mistress of the | ous? felt could easily be seen. The stern lines | of her haughty face softened, and a softer light | shone in her brilliant dark eyes, i , ih 7 ‘ : ’ ° at 1% nt ed ts 7". © os? - «pt re é i. ’ ' 4 ud so -—_—~-—___ The doctor, who had been Mis3 Prandon’s family physician for yeers, was amazei at the interest she took in the girl, for he felt sure that she was a total stranger, although the madame | had never said a word about the matter in any way. After completing his examination, as he rose to depart, he remarked to Lesbia: ‘*Wewili soon have you up; you have im- proved wonderfully in four-and-twenty hours, All that is needed now is time and careful nurs- ing, and you need not be afraid to talk a little. Not too much, you know, not enough to excite yourself, and the moment you feel you are be- coming tired you must stop immediately. **1 will be careful, sir,” the girl replied, in her low, flute-like voice. ‘** Ob, yes, no doubt about that,” Miss Bran- don remarked, her imperious tones softening as | she looked upon the helpless girl, ‘‘for a more obedient child than this poor girl was never ’ seen.” | Lesbia smiled gratefully, and the doctor could not refrain from a wondering look, for since he had been acquainted with the madame he had never known her to be so gracious. Miss Brandon followed the doctor into the hall. ‘‘ She can converse now without any danger of it doing her an injury?” ‘Yes, if she is careful not to overtax her — strength.” ‘*T'm glad of it, fo: I shall be able to find out something about her.” ‘‘She is a stranger to you, then, as I sus- pected?” ; ** Yes, o perfect stranger, and yet she seems as near and dear to me as if she was my own child. It’s strange, isn’t it? But then, you know, I’m an odd fish.” The doctor laughed and’ departed. CHAPTER XXVIII. j LESBIA’S STORY. AFTER the doctor's departure, Miss Brandon returned to the invalid’s apartment. . ‘** Now, my dear, thank goodness you will be able to say something besides yes and no,” she exclaimed, as sbe drew an easy-chair up to the bedside and seated herself in it. : ‘* Tt will be much more pleasant.” **And you have been very good, too; you have been perfectly resigned to hold your +4 tongue for nearly two weeks, and yet the stupid pf : men idiots are always protesting that itis an © utter impossibility for a woman to refrain from talking,” exclaimed the madame, with a sniff of contempt. The invalid smiled at the earnestness of her hostess. “ ‘‘And now that you are allowed to converse, you must satisfy my curiosity. I ama rather odd woman, I presume, everybody says that I ‘ am, and what everybody says must be true. I” was riding over the road bridge when the rail- way accident occurred, and [ reached the scene =— just in time tosee you brought fromthe shat- tered car, more dead than alive. I don’t know © why it was, dear; I can’t explain,eventomy- self; but something whispered to me thatit was my duty to look after you,andas Iam impul- sive—too much so, sometimes, for my good —I yielded to the suggestion, and had you ~~ brought here. It was three days before youre- covered the use of your senses, and when the re- ; rters called to get your name for publication, was unable to give them any satisfaction, and = so in the report of the slaughter you were chronicled as an unknown. Doubtless your friends are puzzled to account for your ab- sence.” . ova ‘It isas I told you, madam, when youkindly — — to send word to my friends that I was e. any ‘‘T remember; you said there wasn’t any need of it—that there wasn’t any one who would ~— trouble themselves about your fate.” | hie ‘It is the truth, madam; I could not explain more fully then, for the doctor positively pro- ee from saying a word more than was © absolu necessary. } ‘Ve Abeta - ‘* But now I can explain.” “Perhaps the Store may not bea pleas- ant task,” observed Miss Brandon, a sudden idea Bic coming to her. ‘‘ You must not think, child, that I am anxious to pry into your secrets. By some odd caprice I took a great interestin you. as soon as I saw your face, and on the spur of > the moment I determined that you should be well cared for, and if money could save your life it should be saved. As to who and what you were, I never his the matterathought.” ‘“*T haven’t anything to conceal, and, really, very little to relate; the story of my life is plain and uneventful, although there is some- thing of a teed connected with it,” the girl replied. “‘My name is Lesbia Mardo], and {[ | was brought up in Eng'and, butI have an idea > from some careless, un arded expressions, that sss at various times the aie who had charge of me let fall, that lam an American by birth, My mother I never knew, and I was told she died when I was only two years old. I was brought: up in a little country village, about fifty miles from London. My father, who was a strange, — comicbooks.com ~~ ce 4 ’ y 4 - . rea 4 rg 1} oL. * 3 ‘w