Beadle's Dime Library No. 509 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Old Falcon, the Thunderbolt Detective. she honestly clasped the proffered hand. so want to be friends with a really good wo- man,” impulsively, ‘*and I feel certain you are such a woman, Madame Bertrande, because you are so beautiful and so kind!” Therese started, almost as if she had been struck, Then, suddenly snatching the girl in her arms, she kissed her on the lips, and hurriedly boarded the train. Then, as she was entering a crowded car, she was politely offered a seat by a man, who had witnessed the good-by kiss from one of the win- dows, and who greeted her with a peculiar smile, “Why, itis you, Monsieur Vieux Faucon !” exclaimed Therese. ‘*‘What! and how for- tunate! Are you even now coming in response to mv telegram?” **Yes,” said the detective, seating himself at | her side, to the envy of every other man in the car. ‘* You see, your dispatch happened to find me with some time to spare, and’I was also lucky in getting a train on the point of starting,” ‘*Admirable! You shall lunch with me at dear old Godlove’s, in lieu of Professor Josephs,” ‘Thanks! Delighted, lamsure, If the God- love luncheons are equal to the Godlove break- f#8ts, l’m in additional good-luck. Professor Josephs, eh?” Vee. “*That reminds me of asking you who the young lady was that you just parted with,” ‘*Miss Merrivale, who is going to give me music lessons.” .They were conversing in low voices, and she made this answer with a peculiar look that was not lost upon the detective. ‘* | see that you already know the young lady for what she really is,” he replied, answering her look. ** Monsieur Old Falcon, you see and understand uickly. © In return, and apropos Professor osephs, I see that you are equally informed concerning him,” ‘Yes. Therese, we have met before.” “Yes, in Paris. Don’t allude to it, monsieur. It was a horribly unfortunate affair! But could I help it that a foolish young sprig whom I had never even glanced at, in return for his offerings —I can swear to that with a white conscience! —should blow out what he doubtless considered his brains on the steps of any hotel?” **T do not blame you—understand that—and I only alluded to our first meeting in the desire to establish present confidences between us, if you have no objection.” ‘**T have none; I wish it,” **Good! Be thoroughly frank, then, wey have you communicated with me—your control- ling motive?” ‘* Have I your confidence in return?” **T assure you of it.” Therese then rapidly sketched her experience of the morning. “What!” exclaimed the detective, with an air ' of concern; ‘‘ you say the two Mervyns drove off together” * Yes,” ** Bad! bad! come of it.” And he knitted his brows, with an apprehen- sive glance outside, where the shifting pano- rama of the landscape was now indistinct in a mad whirl! of wind and rain. ‘* Tragic!” she echoed falteringly. ‘* You don’t hint of danger to—to Mayfield at the hands of those scoundrels?” ‘‘Reassure yourself, No, but of danger at the bands of each other. The poison of jealous rivalry has already come between them, and Joseph, the younger, especially has enough secreted black blood to overstock a rattlesnake’s den. ** Ah, I begin to understand,” with a breath of relief. ‘‘ They are scoundrels! Small loss to the world if they might kill each other, for that matter; besides simplifying your business to a clientale of one—that of Miss Retta Merrivale, nee Henriette Mervyn—eh, Monsieur Vieux Faucon?” . ‘* Therese,” said the detective, without answer- ing her suggestion, ‘‘you seem to have somehow mastered tbe inner history of the stolen treas- ure?’ “IT am not sluggish of putting two and two together, cher Vieux Faucon.” “IT should say not. Well, what is your mo- tive for interesting yourself in the business?” *“Let me first tell you, monsieur—for even detectives with eagle eyes cannot know every- thivg in the world—taat my original name was Peggy Burkitt, from the London gutters, and that Jean Burkitt was my father.” He looFed at her in undisguised astonishment; and she went on to explain ber connection with the fateful early morning, as it might be termed, together with the circumstances of her first ac- quaintance with Harvey Mayfield. ‘* Well?” he repeated, when she had finished. ‘Well, my first mixing with the treasure business was entirely mercenary—-a desire to compel a division of the proceeds, as my de- lightful papa’s heir-st-law,” *“*T understand. But now?” I hope nothing tragic will NN ee Eee eee “T do | | | ** Now it is to save the man I love from con- tinued dishonesty, that I may perhaps,” with a genuine blush, ** share his heart without danger to him or shame to myself.” The train had just drawn out of the Dobb’s Ferry Station, and was once more at full speed. “Therese Bertrande, you have more good in you than I supposed—you are a noble woman!” the detective was saying, when there came an ominous crash, CHAPTER XXV. A ROADSIDE SURPRISE, AN ominous crash, a jolting, jarring, rending shock, a telescoping of the forward part of the car, dust, confusion, dismay and screams! and then the train was over on its side, confusedly jumbled in a wayside ditch, and the stereotyped railroad accident was an accomplished fact, ** Monsieur Vieux Faucon !” coolly remarked ‘**the only ugiginal human cannon-ball” a little later, ‘‘ l.am indebted no :ess to your politeness than to your brave presence of mind. I am without a siratch, end may they hire me for a supernumerary if I haven’t even escaped without a serious ruffling of my fine feathers!” She was standing, pale but self-possessed, to- gether with many other passengers, at the side of the wrecked train, from which Old Faleon had succeeded in neatly extricating ber. The disaster might have been much worse, The train was a bad wreck, and traffic would doubtless be interrupted for several hours, but nota lfe had been sacrificed, and the few in- juries received were not of a serious nature, The detective Jaughed, while secretly admir- ing his companion’s nerve, which agreeably con- trasted the panic and alarm that were still prevalent on every hand, ‘“*Come; yonder is a farm-house,” said he, “You shall even get out of the mess with no more than a wetting of the feet, ma brave belle splendide! But though the storm has let up, it will speedily get to work again.” ** Allons!” and she nonchalantly followed his lead. ‘* On ne vive que de ses bras!” [‘* We can but live by our labor.”] ‘* But wait! Ah, your cheek is bleeding!” And then she had bis head in her arms, with ber lace handkerchief stanch- ing the slight wound. “The deuce! that will do,” laughed the detec- tive, struggling rather unceremoniously out of her ministrations, ‘Stop, I tell you! Would you make a laughing-stock of me for an abra- sion of the skin?” ‘* Laughing-stock, indeed!” said La Trava- deuse, philosophically. ‘‘ As if there was any jaughter, or anything but their own selfish ter- ror, in these panic-stricken cowards! But I fancy you'll pass muster now, Papa Vieux Fau- con, with no more than a suggestion that your sweetheart may have clawed you a bit, Allons |” Leaving Therese at the farm-house, the detec- tive went off to make inquiries, , He presently returned to his companion, saying: ‘*We are at or near Abbottsford Station, it seems, and there’s no likelihood of the track being cleared inside of two hours, Butif you care to go on, without the delay, 1 can procure a scare-crow sort of a rig near at hand.” ‘*By all means let us go on without delay, cher Vieux Faucon,” responded Therese, with smiling promptitude, ‘* Even if we are too late for the ancient Godlove’s lunch, the ecstasy of a tete-a-tete drive in your brave company may not offer again in a lifetime.” He laughed, and, a few moments later, they were contivuing their journey behind a horse whose architecture was a mild libel upon the livery-stable business, while the buggy secured was fearfully and wonderfully made, with threatened dissolution or dislocation in its every lurch and jerk over the rain-washed roads, Though they were on the best roadway in Westchester county, the going was something atrocious after the force of the rain, with worse in prospect, and the air in noonday twilight, so dense and low-hanging were the ragged clouds, heavy with stored electricity and water. Even Therese’s philosophy was hardly proof against the discomforts of the situation, “Oh, diable! des chemins infernals !” she gasped at last, after being tossed, jolted and juggled about worse than a ground-and-lofty lee in her profession; *‘ affreux! horri- es! ** Cheer up, ma brave belle !” smilingly urged her companion, whose iron frame seemed scarce- ly conscious of the hard knocks being undergone. ** We arealready beyond Irvington, with scarce- ly two miles more to go.” “Two miles! And look at the black wood ahead of us! Never mind. Remember my last wishes, Papa Vieux Faucon. My poor body to mon cher amant, Harvee, Since I am not bad- ely proportioned, it will doubtless pay him to have my skeleton mounted for some museum. It is about all I have to leave him, poor boy, besides my debts, But don’t forget that it is my. last will and testament.” bey bad already entered the dense wood she ' alluded to—a wild spot, looking doubly wild and foriorn in the thunderous dusk of the recom- mencing storm—and before the detective could laughingly respond to this fresh extravagance the horse shied, and then, shrinking back, stood still, in spite of an application of the whip. ‘* What can ail the brute?” grumbled Old Fal- con. ‘* True, there is something of a washout here, but nothing like many a worse one already passed, Get up, Bones!” And he urged the animal afresh, but with no better success, ‘* Wait,” cried La Travadeuse, taking a neck- stretching survey of the difficulty from ber side of the vehicle. ‘* Why, it’s worse than a wash- out, my friend, There has been some sort of a struggle here, and recently. See how the soft road is torn and trampled with wheel and hoof- marks, and yonder is a long, smooth swath, as though something heavy has been dragged and trailed along down into that choked-up sluice.” ‘** Take the lines, please,” said Old Falcon, in a somewhat changed voice. ‘* This may bear an ee te pt cad And he began to get out of the uggy. But before he could touch the road there was a horrified scream from his companion, ‘There! there!” she cried, pointing to a thick covert on the further side of the gully. “A man’s foot sticking out of the bushes.” ‘*T see it; try to control yourself,” replied the detective, and then his investigation was expe- dited with professional expertness and thorough- ness. ‘* See,” he said at last, solemnly pointing down to the dead human body that bis exertions had brought to light. ‘‘ My misgivings, as you per- ceive, were not misplaced.” Therese, who had grown very pale, could only nod and stare in a horrified on & It was the dead body of Jacob Mervyn. The head and face were frightfully contused, erhaps by murderous blows with some heavy, blunt instrument, but possibly by the trampling hoofs of a frantic horse, driven backward and forward unwillingly across the form when pros- trate and senseless under an initia] blow, the habiliments muddied and clayed out of all re- semblance to their original elegance of texture and cut. Leaving the poor, disfigured remains lying decently composed by the roadside, under the forlatenn dripping trees, the detective silently resumed his seat in the buggy, and seizing the lines, fairly lashed and hectored the apology of a horse into something of an expeditious pace. ‘‘ Other work now,” he muttered, presently. “What shall you first do?” asked Therese, after she had sufficiently regained her com- sure, ‘* Notify the authorities, of course.” ** And the murderer ?” ‘‘They may attend to him, too; though, of course, they shall have the tip from me, ow- ever, he may be shrewd enough to give himself up, with some sort of show for himself.” ‘** How can that be?’ ‘*We shall have to await developments, my friend. Joseph Mervyn was not only the worse, but the shrewder, scoundrel of the precious pair.’ They were not long in reaching some sort of solution of the tragedy. ; At the entrance to Tarrytown, now close at hand, they passed the wreck of the borrowed vehicle, knocked into kindling-wood, with its foundered animal standing tethered under a wayside oak. Half a mile further on they mee oe of constables in a spring-wagon, with Joseph Mer- vyn in their midst, pagpard and wild-lookin besides being bruised, tattered, covered wi mud, and without a hat. He was too excited to be surprised or further startled at the unexpected apparition of the de- tective, even in La Travadeuse’s company, but at once screamed out: ‘‘Did you see anything of my cousin? Oh, it was a horrible runaway! I fear he kas been killed—killed !” Old Falcon gave him but one look out of those eagle-eyes, and then, with a nod to the officers, drove on. Lieb. CHAPTER XXVI. “YOUR OBEDIENCE OR YOUR LIFE.” THERESE and Old Falcon did not attempt to obtain lunch that day at Mrs. Godlove’s, but contented themselves with the accommodations of an excellent restaurant, near the railroad station, where they also managed to complete the business interview which La Travadeuse had requested by telegraph. _ ** You have what I know, and I have what you know,” said the detective, as bis partin confidential words, ‘‘Get me but one add clew to the whereabouts of the treasure, and your young divinity backslider shall be stayed in his downward course.” ‘“‘ And be mine, indisputably, my own chert from that tire on?” demanded La Travadeuse. The detective smiled, ‘That is, of course, Belle Therese,” be re- plied, with a scarcely perceptible shrug of his powerful shoulders, ‘*as Fate and the rosy god may agree. ‘*Ab!” murmured the queen of the cirque with only a half smile; ‘but let me not for how often they agree to disagree,” It was now late in the afternoon, and the weather had cleared beautifully. GEomicboo (G <SiGor > — — ~ . ~~ ——— ee ke es Ob le Oe 7 ee A ee Se SIR ip ee? — |