Beadle's Dime Library No. 509 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

utionsies a ee “he Old Falcon, the Thunderbolt Detective. 3 their owner laughed, or when bis lips were’ mo- bile with smiling good humor, ‘*T say, young man,” continued the detective* after a pause, ‘‘do you mind telling me your profession, or business?” Harvey Mayfield drew a breath of relief at this variation of the subject, ‘*T have neither the one nor the other at pres- ent, major,” he replied—slowly, so as to thor- oughly regain his presence of mind, ‘I was a bookkeeper in my uncle’s bank in New York till recently. Then I,” he colored slightly, but went on bravely, ‘‘I experienced sofigion, as they say. I am now up here, on the advice of my minister, trying to prepare my mind for en- tering upon the course of a student of divinity. Whether I shall succeed or not I do not know, but I hope to.” There was an unassuming frankness and mod- esty in the avowal that impressed the detective favorably, but he only smiled a little banter- peg ‘Well, now,” be laughed, *‘ don’t you think, Mr, Mayfield, as a prospective divinity student —perhaps, even as a future Boanerges—that [ have succeeded in sort of knotting you up?” But Harvey Mayfield’s shrewd worldliness was once more to the fore, “*T think nothing of the sort,” he replied, coldly. ‘‘Or, at least, your victory is more ap- parent than real, By the way, how have you come by my name?” ‘* Have you forgotten that you mentioned it to Keeper Van Wart, in making your off-hand, but searcely accurate, statement over the dead body of the man—who was past denying or cor- recting you? By the way, you made sure he was dead asa starter. Not half-bad, that!” The other made a contemptuous gesture, ‘*[ had forgotten mentioning my name to the keeper,” he observed. ‘‘ But my statement, as then made, was substantially correct, and I defy any proof to the contrary. Whatever you pretend to have witnessed to the contrary, Mr. Detective, assisted by your guess-work and in- ferential piecing together, may attest your pro- fessional shrewdness, but has no effect on me, either as a hoodwinking or pumping process,” And be returned the falcon gaze with an im- perturbable stolidity, ‘* There goes the breakfast bell, and I shall have to ask you to excuse me,” ‘* Not bad, for a divinity student!” thought Old Falcon, to himself, ‘‘ He is no ordinary man’s fool though be may yet be mine.” Then he said aloud: ‘* You even deny that the convict sat down and wrote at yonder desk?” ‘** Of course, I do!” and the other rose with an unmistakable air. ‘*Preposterous! I doubt if the poor devil had been able to write so much as his own name,” ; a He could do more than that, and you know it. ‘* Sir, you are insolent!” ‘* I don’t mean to be that, young man,” . ‘* What could the fellow have sibly writ- ten there, and under those, exceptional circum- stances?” **A secret, in exchange for the promised clothing, of which he was in such desperate need!” And a flash of extra-searching from the eagle eyes, though Mayfiel to maintain bis imperturbability. ‘*This is too absurd! Excuse me, but my breakfast is getting cold.” The detective nonchalantly arose, ‘* So is mine, doubtless,” said he. ‘‘Andas I am something of a stranger here in Tarrytown, suppose you introduce me to your landlady as a transient breakfaster. This isn’t mere cheek, or impudence,” he added, in another tone, ‘ Af- terward I shall be glad to tell you of my con- cern in Jem Burkitt's past career, and you may find the story interesting.” The young man shrugged his shoulders as- sentingly, and led the way down to the. dining- room, wer shot managed CHAPTER ITI. A CUP OF CAFE NOIR, Ir was a fashionable summer boarding-house that Mr. Harvey Mayfield had selected for his meditations preparatory to a possible theological course of study, and, as the season was well ad- vanced, the boarders of both sexes were already numerous. Naturally enough, the tragic sensation of the morning was the ruling topic of conversation at the breakfast table, to the exclusion of almost everything else. But both Mayfield, and his companion, who had been assigned to a seat di- rectly opposite the others, sedulously abstained from participating therein, This seemed less strange on the part of the former, who had earned a reputation for somewhat eccentric taciturnity among his fel- low-boarders. But the uncommunicativeness of the detective, who had at once been recognized, and perhaps his profession guessed at by several who had been present at the recent tragedy, was less understood, and perkaps_ secretly re- sented; though it had to be confessed that the air of reserve existing between the two men themselves—the regular boarder and the newly-introduced transient—was even more tantalizingly mysterious than what seemed a preconcerted inconversatleness upon the sensa- tion of the hour, upon which both might be in- ferred to know so much, ** Maman, mais c’est etonnant !” at last com- mented a childish voice, with refreshing audible- ness, in the prettiest of French, that was, more- over, indubitably tothe manner born, ‘* Voila le beau monsieur, from whose room-window the Sepeat Sugitif jumped to his death, and yet he will not open bis lips,” The speaker was a pretty, but forward, little girl, seated next the detective, at the side of a black-eyed, beautiful and superbly proportioned lady, presumably her mother, whose scarcely disguised regard had been more than once at- tracted toward the handsome young man oppo- site; who, however, had never seen either of them before, it being evident that they were re- cent arrivals, ‘* Hush, Mignon! you must not be_ bold,” chided the lady, softly; though with yet another impressive glance at the imperturbable May- field, for which more than one of the other male boarders could have cheerfully cnt his throat, out of sheer envy. ‘‘ On parle ou Von taisjusque a ce que nous voulons,”—['‘ We speak or we do not speak, just as it pleases us,”] Harvey Mayfield only broke silence to order a cup of cafe noir with cognac, as a settler for his breakfast, which he bad disposed of with a very passable appetite, everything considered, When the cognac and sugar lump were set. to blazing in the spoon poised over the coffee-cup, he coolly produced the dead man’s scrawl (whose significance he had already committed to mem- ory,) and, with an enigmatical glance toward the detective, beld it patiently in the blue-flick- ering flame until it was consumed, Old Falcon, however, merely elevated his eye- brows, and, emptying leisurely his cup of cafe au lait, applied bis napkin for a last time to his mustache with the contented, self-satisfied air of a man who had enjoyed a good breakfast, and was becomingly thankful for the same, In rising, he threw a single piercing glance at the lady with the little girl, under which the former seemed a little uneasy, as Mayfield, more interested than previously in the lady’s bold beauty,. could not help remarking. And the ir quitted the table together, after the major ad laid the price of his repast on the tea-tray before Mrs, Godlove, the buxom and preposses- sing boarding-house mistress, with a gentlemanly compliment as to the excellence of the meal that brought a pleased emile into her face, .‘*Do you feel like walking?” asked the detec- tive, when they were in the hall, ‘* Always after breakfast,” replied Mayfield, taking his hat from the rack, ad Come with me, then. I think [ can interest ou, ** Don’t forget luncheon to-day, Mr. Mayfield,” a very soft and musical, one might almost say an affectionate, voice called after them as the were going out at the front entrance, ‘‘ There'll be something you specially like—fresh trout and a chicken ad; and your friend, Major Fal- conbridge, would be welcome as jour guest,” The words were Mrs, Godlove’s, she having followed them from the table, and she stood on the piazza, smiling, as the young man_ turned, with a slight flush in his pale, thoughtful face, to make a courteous response. The detective glanced at him a little quizzi- cally as they proceeded on their stroll. ** Decidedly this young fellow is in luck!” said he to himself. ‘‘He is a proncppaad blonde, while our landlady is as well preserved a bru- nette of fifteen years his senior ascould be found in aday’s jaunt, But then, the black-eyed rope- dancer, who ogled him sv persistently across the table, is also a brune, besides being nearer his own age. But the fellow isn’t a bit of a cox- comb, and probably impresses them without in- tention, or even consciousness,” Mayfield who bad fallen into a meditative mood, suddenly roused himself to say abruptly: ‘**'You looked at the lady next you at table as if you knew something of her, major. Who and what is she?” **One who would doubtless make a stir among her fashionable fellow-boarders, did they but mow her reputation and profession,” was the reply. he young mam naturally looked up with re- newed curiosity, ' ‘““Mile. Therese Bertrande, otherwise La Travadeuse, the famous rope-dancer and inoun- tebank at large.” **Oho! And the little girl?” ‘* Her child, Mignon, otherwise La Santerelle, or The Grasshopper. The pair of ’em, by the way, arestrong on pseudonyms, La Travadeuse is The Whirlwind, or The Hurricane.” ‘*Of course; but that mite of a child alsoa circus performer?” : “Yes; but con’t make any mistake as to La Santerelle. Mite as she appears, she is twelve or thirteen, and snappy as a steel-trap.” ‘*T merely questioned out pi peren curiosity,” returned the young man, coldly. ‘It can mat- ter nothing to me,” ' : ‘**T don’t know about that. The woman is an insatiable Circe, and you were devoured more than once this morning by those magnificent black eyes of bers,” Mayfield colored almost angrily as he dismissed the subject with an impatient gesture, for which pis companion was yet more prepossessed in his avor. They had been strolling slowly up the superb village Broadway, with the noble country resi- dences and grounds on either side, that, year by year, render Tarrytown more and more attrac- tive for wealthy New Yorkers, and now turned off into the more distinctive river-road, where Old Falcon instituted a quickening of the ace. P ‘Whither are we bound?” inquired the em- bryo divinity student, starting out of another reverie. ‘*For the State Prison, of course,” was the easy rejoinder. ayfield involuntarily stopped. ‘Tt is only a five mile trudge,” continued the detective, reassuringly. ‘‘ And some time or another you would have to recover your saber, any way. “True.” And Mayfield was thoughtfully keeping step with him again. “* A sort of heirloom, perhaps,” **It was my father’s sword,” said the youth, simply. ‘‘He died bravely torn to pieces by a shell, in tho War for the Union, with the saber in his hand, at the bead of his troop. An heir- loom truly! My sainted mother bequeathed it to me, together with the other BN Se: ou have seen—poor soul! it was about all that had been left to her—when she, too, died, leaving me alone in the world,” There was a refined mournfulness and sim- plicity in bis tone, ‘* A pity if this young fellow and I should fall to odds,” thought the detective. ‘*In spite of his present temptation, he isn’t balf a bad fel- low—not yet. ‘Young man, I am beginning to like you,” he went on, ‘‘Thank you, sir,” said Mayfield, gravely. ‘*My history is a simple and uneventful one. My mother’s small income, together with her army pension, ceased with her life, but 1t had enabled ber to give me a respectable business education. With my scant savings of the past five years I am now endeavoring to prepare myself for the course of which I hinted. Whether I shall continue in it or not 1 cannot aA .homatimen I have my doubts.” “T don’t know—I can’t express it,” with his characteristic abruptness of gesture. “I want to be a good man— to be of some good to my fel- lows. That is all I can say.” “Pil tell you now how I chanced to be in at Jem Burkitt’s death,” said the detective, after a pause, CHAPTER IV. THE STORY OF THE STOLEN TREASURE. I HAD gone to Sing Sing last night, you see,” he went on, in his brusque, business-like way, “for the purpose of interviewing Ninety-four, in hopes of extracting some valuable informa- tion concerning a rather remarkable case of robbery and hidden treasure in which I am deeply engaged, ! ‘**ButI was too late, It was my intention to apply at the prison vhe first thing this morning, before the convicts should be told off in their re- spective working gangs. ‘* My hotel was quite near the prison main entrance. ‘‘ Having retired early, I rose an hour before dawn, and was taking the air up the road when the alarm was sounded that a convict had broken away. I arrived at the prison in time to learn from the warden, an old acquaintance of mine, that if was my very man, Number Ninety-four, that had escaped, and to join in the pursuit, ‘*The rest you know. One of my best chances of following up my clew to the robbers’ hidden plunder seemed to have slipped through my fin- ers with the death of the escaped convict. hen I saw bim lying before me, sbot to death in the garden, I was filled with disappointment and chagrin—until I saw you,” ‘* What had your seeing me todo with your Spot eh pray?’ demanded Mayfield, coldly. ‘* Because it apprised me that my clew to the stolen treasure had been transmitted to you.” ‘“‘Ah, I begin to understand,” sarcastically. cy You would still connect me with the ruffian’s au" ‘*The moment I marked your anxiety to know if the convict were really dead or not,” con- tinued Old Falcon, without heeding, ‘* the com- plication was unvailed to mein a flash. On the threshold of his doom, Jem Burkitt had rs rendered his secret to you in exchange for a dis- ising suit of your cast-off garments, which ate had not permitted him to appropriate. Young man, Iam a pretty good judge of men’s ShaTAR CARE) motives, temptations and even ac- ons. web SF With. his lips still smiling, he turned that ex- traordinary gaze of his full upon Mayfield, who, however, merely shrugged his shoulders with “Yes,” he went on. “And you had made renewed imperturbabi'ity. Comigbooks com i tet : :