Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 439 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

& .‘Spect they hain’t. Leastways, -eat so, much sup suffer. It’s settled, then. stirrin’ around up thar a bit ago, But they r,durn ’em! that I reckon they'll. be sleepin’ tol’able sudden and mighty sound.’ Salamander Sam. I heer’d ’em | of identity without putting us to any trouble | | to prove that your young friend is the heir. | The | Startle, my roperty is left descriptively to ‘ Samuel andchild, son of Absalom and Emma Startle, who is now, or was lately, ‘‘That will suit me, if I can be sure that | living at Danger Point on the coast of Florida.’ they are asleep. _ You..know what I mean, Andy Cator. I want to wipe out that Startle boy,.”’ Ae mn, yaas; L reckon I understand that. Whar do I come in?” ** You shall have five hundred dollars in cash as soon as the job is done.” ‘That’s a sight of money. want me to settle the kid, though.” ‘* No, I will do the rough work. What I pay ou foris giving me the chance I want and eeping quiet about it afterward.” ‘* How about the ingineer?” **Confound him! wish he was in Tophet. He is in my way at every step I take, and [ hate him,” “Ef he cuts up rusty,” suggested Cator, “he'll hey to be hornswoggled.” ‘‘That’s so, and I think I can get away with both of them if I must; but perhaps I had better have your help.” “That'll come higher. 3? ‘“T will pay you well, Andy Cator. I will double the sum I offered you, if the job is thor- oughly done.” ‘“T’ve heern tell that you’re a rich man now, Mr. Plympton, and you orter be good fur w’ot you promise. I reckon you'll keep your word, More work, more ‘too.” ‘‘Of course I will keep my word.” ‘‘Ef you didn’t, ’d know how to make you to do fu’st?” ‘‘I want you to be sure that they are asleep ‘up-stairs, and that everything is right for us to make the break. I suppose you will have to go up there and listen.” ‘*T know a better trick than that. Wait a bit, and arter a while I'll send up the old woman. She’s as quiet as a cat.” Sam Startle had heard enough to satisfy him for one night, He crept up the creaky stairs, slip into the sleeping-room, and told Rush Powell in a few words of the plot to murder one or both of them. The engineer was not at all excited by this in- telligence; in fact, he had been ee some- thing of the kind, and he had already con- sidered the situation and decided what should be done. “ We might fight them off,” said he. “Since we know their plans, we would havea big ad- vantage over them, and it is likely that we could get the best of them. But there is more or ess risk in that, and the easiest way is the best.” ‘* What is the easiest way?’ inquired Sam. ‘¢ Just to slide out and disappoint them. Pick up your shoes and my boots, and follow me. I will carry the box.” The engineer led the way into the narrow passage at the head of the stairs, Though the passage was quite dark, there was an open window at the rear end, closed by a shutter in bad weather, and under the window was the shed that served as a kitchen. Powell let Sam down by the arms upon the roof of the shed, handing him the foot-gear and the box, and then let himself down. [In the same way he lowered the boy to the round and followed him, the entire proceeding W’ot do you want me | | ster. Hope you don’t | various intervals of time by Benjamin Plympton | | | | box.” ’ | ; : That is plain enough, and it proves that the old man must have kept the run of the young- Now let us see what else there is in this box which has so fortunately come into your possession.” | The bundle of letters that has been spoken of proved on examination to have been written at | Thomas Cresswell. | “That is the man,” observed the lawyer, ‘‘who was one of the witnesses of the will and is named as executor. I will read the letters | when I have time, and they will doubtless throw more light on the business. I presume | that the will was in the care of Mr. Cress- well, and that he was lost on the wrecked brig. Now we will see what else there is in the to There were four compartments or drawers that were opened, and three of them were found | to be stuffed full of valuable jewels wrapped in | cotton, whose beauty and brilliance made the beholders stare when they were wes cpm ‘*1 don’t pretend to know much about the worth of these articles,” said the lawyer; ‘* but Mr. Plympton must have been a very wealthy man if be could afford to wear such sparklers. The case is as clear as daylight, Mr. Powell. One of the witnesses of the will must be dead, and the other is probably in Cuba and | will have to be got hold of. That will cost | something.” | ‘There is the jewelry to go on for expenses,” | suggested the engineer. ‘We cannot touch that until the question of | ownership is settled. We must make a list | of them, seal them up, and put them in safe keeping.” ‘*Pve got five hundred dollars,” observed Sam. “It’s the money that Mr. Morley gave dad for wreckin’ the brig, and I reckon thar ain’t nothin’ to hinder me from chippin’ that “Of course that is yours, and you can do as you please with it,” assented Powell. ‘*'Wouldn’t Morley Plympton he tearing mad, though, if he could know that he had fur- re you with funds to fight him and upset im CHAPTER XIV. PLOTTING AGAINST A LIFE. AGAIN Gideon Scrooby was seated in his broad, hide-bottomed arm-chair on the veranda of his old but well-kept house, placidly smoking his inevitable pipe, and again Morley Plympton rode up, hitched his horse, and averoentied his agent and adviser. is face, never pleasant to look upon, was darker and sourer than ever, and his air and manner were unusually morose and surly. ‘* Where have you come from this cool day, and what's been stirring up the bile in you now, Mr. Plympton?” calmly inquired the Scotchman, but with the suspicion of a sneer on his sardonic features. ‘‘Give me something to drink, Gid. I’m too | ary to talk.” , iquid refreshments were quickly brought out, and Plympton ‘‘ wet his whistle ” pretty thoroughly before he lighted a cigar and settled himself. ‘*T am tired out,” he said, ‘‘and just now I being conducted so quietly that one would not | feel mean enough to cut my throat, or some even have fancied a cat upon the roof. When they were safe on the ground they put on their shoes and boots and hastened to the shed where their horse was tethered. In a few minutes the borse was bridled and throat, or that t saddled, and Powell led him carefully until they were well out of sight and hearing of the house. ’ | other man’s throat.” ‘* Don’t begin with mine. please. I doubt if I could enjoy my smoke with my throat slit. If | you think that you can afford to cut your ere is no better use to which ou n put yourself, please step off on he grass to do the bloody work. hat is the | matter with you, anyhow? Where have you Tken they mounted and rode away as rapidly | come from?” as they could urge the animal to carry them. It was only for a little while that they kept to | to give the old seed a fair and square notice that the road, turning off into the woods, where they | unless his daughter becomes my wife found a dry spot and lay down to sleep in the | soon, I will foreclose that mortgage an Open air. F “This is a durned sight better than any bed that Andy Cator’s got, anyhow,” cheerfully re- marked Sam, and his comrade was of the opinion that it was also much safer, _ In the morning they struck into the road and kept on until they reached a plantation where ey got their breakfast. hey also secured a wagon and driver to take them to Coahoula, and in due course of time reached that little town, where they lost no time in waiting on Judge Wilshire and engaging his services. ‘* From Colonel Tremper’s, last. I went there retty turn | him adrift in the swamps.” | ‘*T suppose you nearly scared the life out of the old warrior, too. I[t will be a wonder if you | don’t drive him to drink before long.” | ‘*Drive him to drink,” muttered the obtuse Morley Plympton. ‘‘ Don’t he drimk enough | now?” ** Not enough to suit him, I amafraid. Per- haps he could hold a little more if he should try, and if he was always sure of having it handy. Well, Morley, you have a right to foreclose the mortgage if you want to. It is not due yet, but there is a pile of unpaid interest. How did the Rush Powell told the story of Sam Startle as | old warrior take your talk this time?’ | far as he knew it, and that was sufficient for the ‘present inquiry, bringing the narrative down to he murderous plot from which they bad so nar- rowly escaped at Cator’s tavern. ‘He told me what I already knew, that he | had tried to persuade the girl into it, but she | was obstinate, and didn’t seem to care what be- | came of the plantation or any of them. I told | He then opened the box and produced the | him that he would have to do a good deal | will, which Judge Wilshire read through car<- fully. | over his head; but it seemed to me, Gid, that he | stronger persuading if he wanted to keep a roof “You could not ask for anything better than | took on a more independent tone than I ever be- this,” said the lawyer. ‘“* It settles the question fore knew him to use,” ' | of inclination, but a question of cash. 13 The Scotchman took his pipe from his mouth, and leaned forward, his'coarse features sudden- ly lighted up by an expression of intense in- terest. ‘* How was that?” he demanded. ‘‘ What was the style of his independence?” “Well, he talked about being unwilling to force the inclinations of his only child, and said that he should never forgive himself if he should make her unbappy.” | ‘* That was cool, considering.” ‘“*T told him that it was rather frosty, under the circumstances, and that it wasn’t a question ‘Do you owe me that money,’ said I, ‘ or don’t you?’ ‘**{t suppose I owe it to you,’ said he, ‘or to somebody else.’” ‘He said that, did he? He must have heard the news then. and that accounts for his inde- pendence,” ‘“ What news, what are you talking about?’ angrily demanded Plympton. ‘Well, Morley, I think you must have heard it; but perhaps you don’t take notice of trifles like that? It can’t be called news, either, as it is only a rumor.” ‘What sort of a rumor? Do you want to | worry the life out of me?” ‘*Only a rumor that Absalom Startle’s son, the poy whose life you spared, has been taken up by Judge Wilshire, of Coahoula, who is going to _ bring suit to put him in possession of the Plymp- roperty as the heir.” | had not beard it, but had expected to hear something of the kind before long. It is all the doing of that cursed surveyor, young Powell. He is iu my way at every stepI take. But I am not a bit afraid of that thing, Gid, whether it is mere rumor or a solid fact. They can never prove that the boy is Benjamin Plympton’s grandson, or has any rights in the property.” ‘*T hope they can’t; but it would be mucb bet- ter for you if they had never got a chance to try. What an opening you missed, Morley Plympton! How you threw away your oppor- tunity !” **T don’t wan’t you to preach to me.” , y Queer preaching, this is. I am only giving you facts, You thought it was a fine scheme when you hired Absalom Startle to work out bis own destruction and his son’s, and it did work finely, especially when Satan came to your help, and the man was kiiled by the very wreck he had helped to cause. You thought your way was clear then, and that there would be nobody to bother you; but you failed to take care of the 7 important point cf all. You let the boy ive.” ‘* This not the first time you have thrown that up to me, Scrooby. I know that I made a mis- take then.” | ‘“When a man commits an error, he should try to repair it before it is too late.” ‘I have been trying, but fate seems to have been against me so far. Directly after you first mentioned that matter to me I went to Danger Point to look for the young snake; but he had slid away.” : ee | ‘*Gone to join your surveyors.” .. | |. a failed to ton te ( “IT learned taat afterward. As ! find the boy, I went through his father’s shanty and hunted up and brought away every scrap of paper that had anything to do wit him or his people, including a photograph of his mother. I made a clean sweep of that. part of the business, anyhow.” he ‘** You did well, Morley. The next hest thing, in law, to getting rid of the plaintiff is the de- struction of his evidence. But the plaintiff still lives.” o ‘When I learned that he was with those sur- veyors, I took measures to have him wiped out, ous employed Abe Hyley and his crew to do the O ” ‘** How did you happen to come across them?” inquired the Scotchman as a queer look came into his face. , ‘‘There was no happen about it. I hunted them up. I bad know them before.” (or ‘“Seems to me that I heard something of your heing mixed up with those creatures in © the days when you were gypsying about. But — it was a risky scheme, and it dont seem to have worked. How was that?” ne “That is what beats me and breaks me all up. The Hyley gang came to the strangest end, and I can’t account for it or begin to understand it, unless they all got drunk together and set fire to themselves.” . one you mean to say that they were burned up?’ “All crerrated. As I saw that the surveyors were alive and kicking, and as I heard nothing from the Hyleys, I went out there to hunt them again. I found their ark, or the remains of it, the shanty burned off, and the logs stranded near the water’s edge. 1 went aboard of the wreck and discovered some charred bones and a mess of nasty stuff that I supposed to be what was left of their bodies. But there were no nore Hyleys.” ‘‘T wish they had struck that surveying party before they started the conflagration. The boy still lives.” Morley Plympton sighed deeply and helped himself liberally to the liquor. ‘ hi JOOKS ‘comic *