Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 501 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

ig ¥. ¥ pringsteel Steve. enough to tell me if Iam in the right road to Armonk.” ‘* No,” was the surprised reply. miles to the southeast of it, sir.” Springsteel gave an inward groan. ‘*Tam not well, and must reach a bouse of public entertainment of some sort,” he ex- claimed. ‘‘ Will this road conduct me to one ?” **Yes, siree! A half a mile further on will fetch you bang up into Bill Blake’s Crystal Springs Hotel door-yard,” ‘‘Thanks! thanks!” And on the shivering detective sped, with new hope in his heart, if not fresh speed in his heels. He looked like a ghost when he staggered into the bar, ten minutes later, where the harp-play- ing and beer bottling landlord chanced to be one. ‘* My friend,” said Springsteel, in his quick, sharp way, ‘‘ ve met with an accident, and am threatened with severe chills, It is absolutely necessary [should not succumb—that I shall be all right to-morrow morning. Can I have such accommodations here—the best, I mean—as I am willing to pay for?” A hearty and sympathetic affirmative was the response. ‘*Good! Put me in a warm bed without an instant’s unnecessary delay. Build a rousing fire in the room just as if it were midwinter. Then dose me with hot whisky and quinine till I tell you to stop, or am thrown into a state of sweating insensibility.” *¢ 1°11 do it—and more, too!” The nature of the ‘‘ more too” was discovered half an hour later when the detective was be- ginning to fairly steam in bed under the heroic treatment he had prescribed for himself. The blankets heaped upon him seemed to weigh scarcely less than a ton; the sixth glass of hot doctored whisky had been duly absorbed; the wood fire was roaring in the open fireplace, making the room as hot as an oven, notwith- standing that its door and two windows were wide open; the chills had ceased, and he was sweating like a stalled bull in the dog-days. It was then that the tuneful landlord of the Crystal Springs Hotel evinced a magnanimous sympatby hardly less heroic tian the self-im- martyrdom of bis stranger-guest. He brought forth his beloved harp for the in- valid’s delectation. : In his bare feet, with nothing on but his ‘trowsers and a gauze undershirt, and with the perspiration pouring down his own poetic brow and philosophic baldness, he planted himself **You’re two . firmly on his ere music-school, between _ the roaring hearth an the sweating couch, and, drawing the grand instrument between his scorching knees, he swept the strung chords with a master hand, ‘* He swept the lyre, and nations heard, Responsive to the godlike thrill!” Or if it wasn’t quite so bad as that, it was at least fully as well meant, and the only native American harpist did his level best, which is no less than the best man in the world can do; and it is even doubtful if any one else could have done as well under the extraordinary and oven-like circumstances of the occasion. The harping landlord not only played but sang. He had his wife bring him bottles of beer on demand; and thence on, with only such inter- ruptions as were caused by renewing his guest’s dose and whetting his own gullet, vocal and in- strumental music, foreign or domestic, full, vibrant and prolonged, rushed from his inspired ‘throat and hands in a scarcely broken river of enthusiastic melody. The last thing that the ex-police detective was conscious of was a roaring of tempestuoscon- cords, combined with a feeble attempt to in- urgitate yet one more hot whisky an quinine a favorite police remedy, by the,way) with the assistance of the landlord’s wife’s supporting arm. After that there was a heavy, a protracted and perspiring blank. He crawled out of bed next morning at eight o'clock, with the chills knocked endwise, to use his own expression, but with an odd thirst in his diaphragm and a general sensation of having ae parboiled and then rubbed down with a rick. “*My friend,” said he, grasping the amiable landlord by the hand, ‘‘ you’re a perfect trump, and I shall never forget you.” ‘‘Gad! sir, but [ll never forget you, depend on it, nor last night either,” was the hearty reply. ‘‘It was like a Turkish bath in an opera house!” Fortunately for himself, Springsteel was very hungry, and he felt almost himself again after the excellent breakfast that had been prepared So Thens Mr. Blake’ en, paying Mr. e’s very reasonable charges, ee was most happy to hire a turnout from the landlord’s stable, and proceed on bis homeward way. By a lucky chance, it happened that he reached the manse at the very moment when O'Meara, with his constables in the background, was a ee demand for his pound of flesh, as it might be called. | te CHAPTER XXXIX. CHARGE AND COUNTER-CHARGE. Now that the dreaded ordeal was come, Edna, no less than her husband, had assumed a calm and contemptuous demeanor in the face of Red O’Meara’s approach, The latter’s anxiety, however, was plainly observable through his external implacableness as he mounted tne piazza steps, ‘‘ Edgar Willard, alias Frank Harper,” said he, ‘‘ you will perceive that I have left my sup- porters in the background, in order to give you a last remaining chance.” ‘You have got your trouble for your pains, you unspeakably accursed hound!” was Willard’s calm response. ‘‘ Whatever temporary incon- venience or disgrace hep baffled malice may subject me to bas alrea gears provided for.” Whatsoever defiance he might have expected to find persisted in, it was evident that O’Meara was secretly disappointed. ‘‘Inconvenience? disgrace?’ he repeated, ‘¢ Why, man alive, it is a hanging matter!” ‘* Undoubtedly—for yourself, sooner or later. ‘** Are you so insane as to defy me to this very last?” ‘*On the contrary, I am so healthily sane as to do so.” ‘Your danger will not end with the bare charge of having murdered your grandfather, young man! There will be yet another eye- witness than myself to support it—if you persist in forcing me to make it.’ ‘Dispatch your business, if you please! A child-stealing, woman-duping criminal black- guard is not the sort of society that is agreeable to our nostrils.” ‘You will not do well to brave it out!” ** Dispatch, I say!” : ‘*But, Willard, this is simply suicidal—noth- ing but suicidal!” ** Certainly—for you.” “*l’'m not without merey so much as you sup- pose. I have even decided to abate my de- mand.” ‘* A novel sort of Shylock, truly!” ‘‘ Yes; I'll accept a paltry ten thousand, in- stead of twenty.” “Cents or dollars?” with ironical earnestness. Let there be no confusion of terms, I beg of ou. ‘‘This seemingly defiant role, while you are in reality Foie in your shoes, shall avail you nothing. if you are so obtuse to your own interests, perhaps your young wife here—” , He was interrupted by Willard spitting in his ace. ‘*Curse you!” roared O’Meara, reeling back, convulsed with fury; ‘‘ that shall cost you your life on the scaffold! Come on here, you fellows!” turning with a violent gesture toward the wait- ing officials; ‘‘ arrest this man! He is a mur- derer!” But the last words had issued less confidently from his enraged lips. The constables had already begun to advance vag the drive, and they were closely followed by Sheriff Langley, who was talking confiden- tially with a man,in an unfamiliar turnout, whose bent head prevented his instant recogni- tion. The fact should have been mentioned, indeed, that Springsteel had borrowed an old slouched hat from the landlord of the Crystal Springs Hotel, bis own having’ been hopelessly battered beyond resusctiation, and this ina great degree assisted his oddness of appearance at the present moment, ‘But O'Meara had quickly recovered his inso- lent assurance, in which there was now an ad- mixture of no little desperateness, apart from the personal insult under which he was smart- ing. mR Arrest this man!” he continued. ‘He mur- dered his grandfather, Miser John Willard, over five years ago! I myself was a witness to the savage, deed, and have only this far held my peace out of respect—out of —” He had come to a staggering pause by reason of the old detective at this moment lifting his bowed face and revealing his identity.” ‘* My father!” cried Edna, with a joyous sense of relief, ‘* Oh! thank God you are here at t! O’Meara had reeled back, with his eyeballs almost starting out of his head as he gazed at the detective, but he was nes a tremendous effort to recover his sang froid, ‘** Look at him!” coolly remarked the old de- tective, eer menacingly at the confused scoundrel, while slowly alighting. ‘‘ Look at him, for he may still think me dead—dead at the bottom of Wampus Pond, with his assassin bullet in my heart.” ‘*°Tis false—false as hell!” exclaimed O'Meara, having completed his self-mastery. ‘‘ Where and what is Wampus Pond? The man is crazy!” ** Oh, fear not but that everything I say shall be substantiated, Mr. Lawrence O’Meara,” con- tinued Springsteel, with increased c ee ag” have been ne my story here to Sheriff Jake. He knows that I ought to be lying where my son-in-law’s best horse is lying at this moment— dead in the lake, at your hands—if lick and Providence had not befriended me. It is a Gel slaps tee setaliedemaclitsc elias liad Sees chile aia a LL eee ee eee Ce c Providence, my man, that has already got you well in hand—the Nemesis that has you well- nigh hunted down.” O’Meara burst into a scornful laugb. ‘** Bay Charley dead!” exclaimed Edgar, with a groan. pringsteel nodded. ‘Av, my boy; dynamited down the moun- tain-side by that scoundrel and his confederates, whitber I was sent plunging a few minutes later, with a suppositiously fatal bullet in my breast.” **Oh, this. is too absurd,” laughed O’Meara. ** Officers, do your duty. Here is your man!” and he laid his hand heavily on Edgar’s shoul- der, whence, however, it was shudderingly cast off with a loathing gesture. ‘‘He is tbe mur- derer of his grandfather, Miser John Willard, on my accusation, as that of an eye-witness of the crime, And yet another witness shall be forthcoming.” But the constables, locking no little bewilder- ed, remained where they were, glancing askance at the sheriff. ‘‘What’s it all about, Jake?’ demanded the detective. ‘‘ Are you bossing this preposterous arrest of my son-in-law at that cheap-jack scoun- drel’s instance?” ** He’s got Botiiee to do with it—at least, not till later on, when like enough his hanging ser- vices will be in order,” cried O’Meara, fast los- ing his temper again. ‘‘ Here,” producing a paper, ‘‘is the justice's warrant, sworn out by me this very morning.” ‘‘It may be more my business than you im- agine; and now, Mr, Count Omeerando,” inter- posed the sheriff. ‘* And don’t be too sure as to whom my hanging services may first be in order pon. O’Meara bit his lip and glared. ‘* You see,” continued Langley, turning to the detective, **I heard of his having sworn out the ridiculous arrest warrant, and, though he had secured the services of these officers of mine ahead of me, I thought I would just drop over this way after them, and see that things were regulated.” “Thank you, Mr. Langley,” said Edna, sweetly, while her husband nodded his apprecia- tion. ‘Oh, this is too much of a farce,” cried O’Meara, with a coarse oath. ‘“‘ What’s the good of a warrant, if it is not served on sight?” - pehepe it’s because there may be a counter- charge,” shouted Springsteel Steve, with sudden vehemence. *‘I make such a charge now! Law- rence, alias Red, O’Meara, I charge you with the murder that you would foist upon Edgar Willard to save your own blood-stained carcass! The murder of Miser John Willard, known to criminal fame for the past five years or more as the Bleak Hollow Mystery!” The counter-charge was made with stern and impressive effect. early all the house-servants had by this time been attracted to the scene, the sensation among them being better imagined than described. O’Meara bad once more started back, but his confusion was only momentary. ‘““T should not be surprised at this,” said he, with an effort at dignified and scornful calm- ness. ‘* The counter-charge is ever the specious wrap-rascal of tbe consciously guilty criminal.” And he pointed contemptuously at Edgar, whose composed and almost smiling demeanor made the action on the part of his enemy par- ticularly incongruous, ‘¢You’re a shallower knave than I gave you credit for, O'Meara,” said Springsteel, with re- sumed calmness. ‘* You ought at least to know me of old.” ‘*That I do, and little to your good, common and decrepit old sleuth-hound that you are!” was the impudent response, ‘But blood will tell—I shculdn’t blame you for trying to bolster up your Gaughter’s husband, with the gallows staring him in the face.” Springsteel laughed his low, significant laugh. ‘© As if J would attempt a counter-charge,” be muttered, half-aloud, ‘‘and in a case of murder, too, without evidence to back me!” ‘‘You have no evidence against me!” ex- claimed O’Meara, but with a lack of confidence that his boisterous manner could not wholly mask, ‘I defy you to produce any!” . ‘‘ Vijlain, it is here! Behold!” and the old de- tective’s voice was once more a voice of thun- der, as he flashed the tell-tale red morocco ¢ ocket- book into view. This time the villain’s agitation was most ap- parent, He staggered back, as if blinded by a terrific and yet half-expected lightning-flash, and it was only by the most painful eff rt that he seemed to gather himself together again. ‘*¢ Behold!” continued Springsteel, triumphant- ly. “It is your wallet, bearing your initials, crowded with papers in your name, as damning documentary evidence against you!” ‘‘ False, false, false! I never saw the thing be- fore,” was all that O’Meara could at first stam- mer in his defense, ‘¢ Tt was this telltale wallet that came into the possession of Thomas Simmons, one of your ac- complices in the murder of Miser John Wiliard, five years ago!” continued Springsteel, with colder but yet more deadly emphasis. ‘‘ It was