Beadle's Dime Library No. 42 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

B2 — een ny Beadle’s Dime Library. Alice Gordon Van Rensselaer.’ That’ is the child mentioned in the will; the heir under that will to just one-half of my father’s property. That villain, Keene, deceived me. These are the papers which, three years ago, I stained my soul with crime to destroy. The papers which I burned up, which were in Keane’s possession, were only copies; these are the originals. Oh! what a cursed idiot I have been! That crime was a nseless one.” Then Van Rensselaer was silent for a moment, buried in thought. “Even if these papers are destroyed,” he said, slowly, communing ‘vith himself, ‘“‘this man can prove the identity of the cbild, Alice, if she be living, and something whispers me that she is. Her appearance, the will—which has es- caped me—and his evidence would give this Alice half our fortune. These valuable papers are mine, but this old man could possibly prove the child’s identity without them. But if he should never wake from this deathlike sleep?” And Van Rensselaer glared hastily aronnd him as he put the question which boded murder, as though he feared to see some shadowy form step from the darkness of the corners and answer his speech. ‘‘ Why should he not die here and now?” he muttered. ‘“‘He is an old man, on the very verge of the grave; few years—perhaps hours—of life can he call his own. But the means?” Van Rensselaer again glared round him with a half-shudder. . Suddenly the thought came to him. “Suffocation!” he cried, in accents hardly above a whis- per. ‘‘ By simply winding my coat around his head he will “die almost without a struggle. No marks to tell of the manner of his death. It must be so, this one crime, and then I'll stain my hand in blood no more. I can easily es- cape from the house. When they discover the body they will imagine that his death was produced by the drug in the liquor, and, to save themselves from suspicion, they will hush the matter up in some way.” With stealthy steps, Van Rensselaer approached the door and listened fora moment. Not a sound could he hear. ‘‘Tf he should look through the keyhole, as I did?” the young man muttered, referring to Bishop. And acting on the thought, he took from his pocket his - handkerchief and fastened it around the knob of the door in euch a manner that it hung down over the keyhole. “Tt will be difficult to watch my movements from the outside now, I think,” he said, with a grim smile. Then he removed his coat, and, holding it in his hands, carefully ap- proached the helpless man extended on the sofa. Murder was in Van Rensselaer’s heart and hand. He bent over his destined victim, when a slight noise 4s though a mouse had run across the floor behind him, at tracted his attention. With a nervous shiver, for conscious guilt makes even the firm-nerved, stout-hearted villain liable to sudden fear when alone and surrounded by Geathlike stilliece, Var Renss- elaer turned; the coat had dropped from his kands upon the head of the sleeping man. In the center of the room stood the Indian chief, erect like a statue, the dim light of the candle falling full upon his painted face. A specter fresh from the shades below could hardly have startJed the guilty soul of Van Rensselaer more than the sud- dev uppearance of the Pawnee-Killer. Jiow he had gained access to the apartment was easily ex- plained, for a small trap-door stood open just beyond the table and a flight of steps led down from it into the regions below. In an instant it finshed upon Van Rensselaer’s mind that the Indian had played the spy upon him, although he could not understand why the savage should do so. | The Indian had tuken the precious papers from the table where Van Renssélaer had placed them, and ‘held them firmly gripped in his left hand. A single moment the New Yorker glared upon him; thea, with a cry of rage,’ he plucked the bowie-knife from its sheath and sprung upon the intruder. | Quick as a cat, the savage evaded the blow by springing to one side, and then, as Van Renssélaer passed, carried ‘on by his violent rush, he dealt him a terrible blow under the right ear that felled Van Rensselaer like a log tothe floor, senseless, OHAPTER XVII. ‘THE TRAP-DOOR, || Wuewn Van Rensselaer recovered from the effects of the _terrible blow he found himself in darkness, Slowly, little by little, his senses returned to him. He still felt a dull pain in his head, and on carrying his hana to it, discovered that there was a terrible lump under his ear where the iron-like knuckles of the savage had struck him. Van Rensselaer rose to his feet, his brain still swimming from the effects of the blow. 3 As we have said, he was in the darkness. How long he had lain upon the floor in his faint he knew not, for he felt certain that he was still in the room where he had fallen, ‘Bishop! he called, and his voice sounded harsh and un- natural. The door opened, Van Rensselaer heard the creaking of the hinges, but no ray of light came into the room, which was not to be wondered at, for the entry-way was as dark as the unlighted room. ‘* Hallo! in the dark?” Bishop ‘said, in astonishment, as n looked into|the room, speaking in a cautious! tone; as af afraid of waking the sleeper. ‘‘ What have you been doing all this time? I got about tired of waiting. What:made you put the light out?” ‘‘ Have you the lantern still lighted?” Van Rensselaer asked. “é Yes.” Bishop sent the bright rays flashing full upon Van Renss- elacr’s face, and as he caught sight.of his pale and haggard features he attered a cry of astonishment, ‘‘ Why, you look like a ghost!” he. cried. Van Rensselaer replied not. He walked to the table, dis- covered that the candle was still there, and drawing a match rom his pocket lit it. As the dim rays illuminated the room another ery of aston- sshment came from Bishop’s lips. The sofa was empty; the sleeping man was gone! Van Rensselaer’s face grew paler still as he saw that, both the savant and the valuable papers had disappeared. ‘‘T am beaten,” he muttered, in sullen anger. “T don’t understand,” Bishop said, in wonder; ‘‘ what have you done with the old man? [ll swear that no one passed by me, for I’ve kept close watch at the door ever since vou came in.” And as he spoke his eyes wandered around Jas room in search of another door; but the bare wall, un- broken, except by two windows securely barred by heavy shutters, alone met his gaze, He saw no visible outlet ex- cept by the two windows, and, from the thick coat of dust upon the bolts, it was evident that weeks if not months had elapsed since they had been opened. ‘‘The events which have happened in this room since I entered it seem like a terrible dream more than like reality,” Van Rensselaer said, in a husky voice, evidently laboring un- der strong emotions. ‘AsI stood by the sleeping man, I Eomichbooks ‘ (E(0) -——_