Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 437 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

é ? * Nee © ame .———- + - - — =e -——O— cane came down forcibly on the fioor. ‘I tell Mt I will have nothing to do with such persons, y son is a foolish young man. and he will be wiser when his head has grown gray. I wish you joy of your deserted wife!” It was a strange thing to see the grave pro- fessor so excited—even angry—aid Duke hast- ened to try and smooth over matters somewhat. He was scarcely heard, and not heeded in the least. The professor found the door, and was soon striding away down the street at a pace which would have astonished his scientific _ friends, _ The messenger’s mistake had borne fruit not to ' be despised; not only had Woodside again re- . he?” ~~ —<— He left Deep Duke in a highly satisfied mood. vealed unusual emotion, but Mrs, Rose had posi- tively identified him as her husband. The detective was forced to conclude that dur- ing the time his friends supposed him to be in the Old World, twenty years before, the pro- fessor had really been living a life in Maine for which he could not account, It was very odd that Archibald Woodside should figure as a lumberman; stranger still that he should leave home as an invalid, and soon appear in Bangor as an athletic laborer. He had committed no offense against the law by marrying the present Mrs. Rose, the mother of Philip and Claudia having died before his pilgrimage, but Deep Duke found his case grow- ing more important. Mrs. Rose was legally Mrs. Archibald Wood- side, she ought to be supported as became her position, not left in poverty like a cast-off toy. He called her down-stairs, She had partially recovered her calmness, but her eyes glittered in a way which boded no good to Archibald Woodside. ‘*T heard what he said,” she began, abruptly. ‘*So he calls me ‘a wretched woman,” does ‘*[T have reason to believe he does know who you are, Mrs. Rose. He objects to having aid é ven you, but, it seems, only on general princi- es, ** You called him Mr. Woodside, name now?” ‘*‘ It is his real name, and he is the father of Philip Woodside, your benefactor.” " My benefactor no longer; I'll have no more to do with him. but all | now want is revenge! rich! So he is caring for his viper children, lawful or otherwise, while I—his wife—am left to almost starve alone! I wash my hands of the whole brood, but I want revenge !” Duxe had not believed the little woman capa- ble of such vindictiveness, but, accustomed to people of all moods, he quietly replied: ‘*I never helped a person to secure revenge, as such, madam, and do not intend to, but in your case we need not falter. If you have told me the truth, and are really married legally to him—or so believe yourself-—it is not revenge, but putin, which you seek.” ‘*T bave told you the truth.” ** Then what have you concealed?” One moment Mrs. Rose hesitated; then she answered with an air of sincerity: ‘* Whatever I have kept back was in pity for one to whom I hoped to be rennited—one hoped was worthy. My husband did not leave Bangor so mysteriously as I told you. I know, and knew then, that he fell among evil asso- ciates, and became mixed up with some unlaw- ful act—” ‘** What act?” “That I don’t know. I wish I did. One of his friends-—one of the gang that led him into trouble—came to the house for things Zachary needed. I never saw my husband after that, I know these things were for him to use in his flizht—they were in the way of clothing—and I suppose he got off safely.” ‘But the man who came to your house— where is he?” ‘ “That I don’t know. I suppose he fled, too.” ‘“* Did you never see him again?” ‘¢ Never,” ‘* You are telling the whole truth now?” ‘¢*T am, sir.” Is that bis I came here to find a husband, So that man is , ‘Have youno idea what crime caused your husband to run away?” ‘‘No. Ihave tried my best to surmise, but I cannot. I feel sure it was nothing very bad.” This weak defense showed that she had not yet stamped out all love for the man. She slowly continued: “You see, Mr. Dorgan, I was not in good health at the time, aud the strain on my nervous system was too much for me. I took to my bed and was delirious with brain fever for weeks. I have never been the same woman since.” ** Well, it would be foolish for us to expect Archibald Woodside to accept you as his wife for a score of Pisces shows just what kind ofa man he is, and he is now almost in a position to | now, His conduct in leaving you in poverty | hid the soul of a dreamer. | the certificate, or the witnesses,” Duke slowly added, watching her closely. ‘* They are both dead, and so is the minister.” ‘* And the certificate?” **T told you I did not know where it was.” ** Has it never occurred to you that Zachary Rose had a dishonorable motive in taking it away from you?” ‘* It occurs to me now—and I have doubted him before. There is something about that which I never understood.” ‘* 'W hat was that?” ‘*T suppose it will be hard for a man to real- ize the fact, but I was so frightened and con- fused when being married that the whole affair was likeadream. I went through it mechani- cally, and though I signed my name to some- thing, | could not have told whether it was a marriage-certificate or something else. You see, [ was only a shy, inexperienced girl.” ae you doubt that the certificate was genu- ine? * Oh! no.” ‘* Then what is it you don’t understand?” ** I don’t know but you will doubt me when ! explain. I said I was like one in a dream when I was married, Well, afterward, when the cer- tificate was gone and it was too late, it began to dawn upon me that the minister had not used the name of my husband during the ceremony. As one dimly, imferfectly remembers a dream, so I thought I remembered another name,” ‘** What name?” “That was what I tried to remember, but could not. I asked my husband about it, and he laughed at me. He declared that I had imag- ined all this, but—” ‘* You did not believe him.” ‘“‘l have always doubted and wondered, and now, in the light of your revelations, I wonder under what name he married me.” “it may have been Archibald Woodside.” ** [don’t know.” Mrs. Rose sighed and looked pentty at va- cancy, while Deep Duke found ample foud for thought. If she was not mistaken, he saw in her later revelations the twisting and turning of aman sailing under fulse colors. Perhaps she had been loved as much as theaverage wife, and her husband had used his real name, intending to recognize her sometime; but after a while his love waned, as love will, and she was the loser. Resuming conversation, he asked several more questions, hoping to gain some clew to the miss- ing certificate, or to Zachary Rose’s crime, but without avail. He was forced to decide that he must look elsewhere for his information, and his mind turned to Levi Peters and Abe Benlow. The former seemed to confidently connect Woodside with a man who had been in prison with Abe, and the latter certainly knew what prison was referred to. These men must be seen and their secrets gained. This was easily said, but Deep Duke foresaw a hard struggle. Peters was also a detective, and was undoubtedly in the field against him— though, as yet, perhaps not aware that he had a rival. He would not willingly tell what he knew; this must be learned by stratagem. One of the most essential elements of success was to recover the marriage-certificate which would prove Mrs. Rose a leval wife. If it was not destroyed, and he felt that it was not, it might still bein the place where Zachary Rose had placed it for safety. Where was that place? ‘* My cave is not complete until the certificate is found,” Dorgan thought. ‘* Without it, Mrs. Rose poor and unknown, cannot hope to con- quer rich Archibald Woodside. The certificate must be found. But how?” It was a knotty question to answer. CHAPTER VIII. SOMETHING ABOUT THE HATHAWAYS, CLAUDIA WOODSIDE was moving about the elegantly arranged grounds of her father’s house, pausing here and there to admire a flower or shrub. Much of the beauty of the place was due to her. Professor Woodside could nave told all about every growing thing on the place, but the good taste which was everywhere visible was due to the young lady’s judgment. This little plot of land was her pride and de- light, and here she passed many pleasant hours. Society people complained that she did not show due interest in the momentous affairs that occupied their minds, and such was the fact. She had no love for society. Not being as crit- ical as her father she had not taken the trouble to analyze the high world and point out its hol- a she simply knew that she was hored ry it. t Under a reserved, almost proud, exterior, she Naturally averse to confidence in any one in regard to such matters, she concealed much of her nature: defy you. Heisrich and respected of all men, | fether and brother did not understand her. and of high worldly position. You are poor | On this occasion she was glad to be alone in aud unknown. Your only hope of justice is to | the grounds, and her mind was busily occupied. prove your marriage |” A shadow appeared on Mrs. Rose’s face. ** And the only way to do this is to preduce | we had more occasion to think than ever be- | lore, She was no longer Miss Woodside, though this even her Deep Duke, the Silent Sleuth. ee ee OE S-COC LC EL a a ee -eeSS —lS i @ fact was known to but few. The eventful step of the previous evening had given her a new position. She was the wife of Ralph Hathaway, and the fact promised to make serious trouble in the future. When the biow would fall she did not ‘know; she hoped it might be averted for some time, and she had only consented to the private marriage when Hathaway promised to remain silent and wait patiently for the time when he could claim her. When this would be neither knew. Hathaway was poor, and the professor objected to him. The young couple felt that they could wait, however. Claudia was still moving about among the roses when a servant came to say that her father wished to see her in his study. She obeyed the summons at once, The room gave no evidence that the professor had been engaged in labor that morning, and Claudia wondered why she had been sent for, but Woodside quietly motioned toward a chair. ‘* Have you work about which I can help you?” she asked, affecting a lightness of manner to hide a sudden uneasiness. sé No. 9 The professor spoke mechanically, and then showed more interest and added: ‘*T have sent for you with a very different motive.” Something in his manner told her that trouble was to be expected. He had ever been kind to her, until he opposed Ralph Hathaway’s suit, and then his opposition was more grave and regret- ful than anything else. She did not expect harshness from him now, but did expect some- thing unpleasant. ‘* Tndeed!” was all she could reply, and even this did not satisfy her. ‘*T wish to speak of Ralph Hathaway,” add- ed the professor, in bis straightforward way. Claudia’s face flushed deeply. Did her father know all concerning the night marriage? She was too startled to make any answer. ‘You are aware that I have before spoken to \ou concerning this young man. I had bo I would not have to mention it again, but I learn that you have since bad secret meetings with him.” Woodside’s voice and manner were still kind, but they were very grave. Claudia, however, breathed a trifle freer. He had said nothing to show that he knew of the secret marriage: if he aid not, all mignt yet be well, ‘* Is that any great crime, sir?” she asked, ‘* Have I not asked you to drop his acquaint- ance” ‘‘ And am I not old enough to judge for my- self—to choose my friends for myself?” It was not a defiant answer. While her fa- ther spoke so kindly, she could not but follow his example. sl Possibly you are when you choose with = th eyes. Here you are like one blindfolded. What do you know of Ralph Hathaway?” ‘*T know he is a gentleman, and an honorable man.” ‘*T am not prepared to dispute it, for I know nothing about it. But what of his family?” Claudia hesitated for a moment. ‘* His only relative is his mother,” ‘‘ Where is bis father?” ‘* He is not living.” ‘*Claudia, it is far from my taste to rake up the past. but do you know what sort of man the senior Hathaway was?” ‘“ Do I? No, sir.” se | do.” ‘You seem to intimate that he was not a model man, but I will remind you that I have nothing to do with bim.” “If you marry his scn, you will enter a family upon which rests a blot which cannot be washed away in a generaticn. I knew the elder Hathaway; I know what his charecter was, | pray that a child of mine ney never enter bis family. He wasa disreyutable wretch—I cen- not speak of him in milder terms. Fis zon may be well enough outwardly. but bad blocd runs in his verns and the curse is cn his race.” “s oo his father con mit a crime?” ‘ ves,” ‘What was it?’ Claudia straightforwardly asked. ‘*IT must request permission not to explain. I repeat that it is painful to me to recall this mat- ter. graves. Hathaway died when his son was a mere babe, and I, for one, am willirg to let Lim and his misdeeds rest.” ‘Why sbould Ralph be made to = ffer fcr en- other’s acts?” was the spirited inquiry. ‘“ Were you to marry him.” patiently, kindly answered the prefesser, ‘Sit wculd recall tke past, and every gossip would be seying that you —mny donitntlched. married Tenyile Eath- away’s son. The moment you did this the dccr of every respectable house would Le closed against you.” It was a sweeping assertion, and Claudia sat looking at her father in a species of elarm. If he had not spoken exaggeratedly. she was al- se in the rapids. She was Ralph Hatheway's wife. ‘* Of course,” Woodside continued, ‘‘ my chief motive in warning you is to save you from a noe ee My motto is, Jet the dead rest in their - Eomicbooks $ . +? ° « i y= , i _, s ‘ | : fm, 4 At