Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 580 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

18 Shadowing a Shadow. . “i % ' braced himself for the interview and directed | assure you, so far as I can,” said the lady, com- that he be admitted. pletely deceived, Kinworth entered about as on the former oc-; Kinworth bad uttered no untruth whatever, casion, and the banker felt that he had nothing | but Mrs, Blackwall immediately understood that to fear in the encounter. | he had been sent there by her husband. After their words of greeting had been ex- | ‘* How long have you been married?” was the changed, Kinworth stated his business briefly, | | first question put. ‘‘ When I was here before, Mr. Blackwall,” | ‘* Twenty-five years,” was the answer. he began, ‘you expressed your wilfingness to! ‘“‘ Where were you married?” help me in any way that you could,” | ‘¢In New Orleans.” ‘*T believe i did, sir.” ‘* Your husband came from California, did be The banker’s response was spoken a little | not?” stiffly. |“ He did.” ‘* [ think you can help me now,” the detective | Kinworth was jotting down the answers in went on. ‘1 want to ask you who wore this | his note-book to give the impression that they ring thirty years ago.” | were important, and to carry out the insurance | deception. As he put the question he held up bis left | band and showed the ring that the banker had| “™ How long had Mr, Blackwall been a resi- dent of New Orleans when you married him?” noticed on the occasion of the other visit. ‘6 How should I know?” was the calm counter- | he next asked. ‘* About one year, sir,” was the answer; and question. ‘‘Then you never saw it before, eh?” | the lady added: “It seems strange that my ** Not unless I saw it on your hand when you | husband could not answer these questions,” ‘‘T remarked that you would declare that were here before, sir. I believe you did bave on insurance business is over-exact,” the detective a ring of some sort,” ‘* This is the one. observed, smiling. ‘‘That is all, madam,” be of the history of this ring. announced, as he rose, ‘and f am greatly of your time.” obliged to you,” He bowed himself out of her presence, and ‘“*T hope you will not, for I am busy.” — “This ring was an engagement-ring given by | was gone before she could recover from the state of surprise he had thrown her into. Henry Abington to Celeste Whitford, about thirty-one years ago, It bears the initials ‘*So much more proof piled up,” he mused as ‘H, A. toC, W.’ Henry Abington and Celeste | he walked away, “It is dollars to cents that Whitford were married July 30, 1854. Their | Blackwall is the man, Well, I will force bis first child was born June 5th, 1855. The second | hand. When he learns that [ have invaded his was born May 20th, 1858.” | home, he will see that I mean business.” . ‘*T am not iuterested in these details, sir; if | When he arrived at the hotel he found there a there is anything you want to know, ask vour | person awaiting him who was none other than question.” | Griffit, the head clerk of the Blackwall estab- ‘*T willdosoina moment. About one year | lishment. after the birth of the second child, Mrs, Abington ‘‘T want to see you in private, sir,” Grifflit was taken to California by her husband and put | said, inanasylum, That was twenty-six years ago, “Very well, sir, come right up to my room,” She has been in San Francisco ever since. | the detective invited. Now certain persous are interested in her case, He led the way up, and when they were alone Let me tell you something I will not take much | _ and desire to learn what became of her children, | Griffit stated his business, Now without telling you any of the further | “I overheard your conversation with Mr, particulars, [ will simply state that I have rea- | Blackwall to-day, sir, and I must tell you that gon to think that you can tell me something you are on the wrong track altogether. He is alout Henry Abington and his children,” no more the man you want than Jam, Nowin ‘*T cannot imagine by what process of reason- | order to set you right, and to clear your supi- ing you arrive at that absurd conclusion,” was | cion away from him, [ will tell you more than I the cool response. did the other day.” ‘* Then I will be a little more explicit. When ‘*[ shall be glad to hear what you have to I was in here the other day you recognized this | say, sir,” the detective humored. ‘ic, ‘**T know more about that matter than I told e banker forced a laugh. ** I believe you in that.” the greatest ass to set yourself up as a detective ** And what I am about to tell you is a secret, that I ever met.” Mr. Blackwall may know it, and he may not, ‘*Perhaps Lam, Henry Abington,” was the That I cannot say. The secret is this: . The easy return, ‘‘but that is oot to the point, | Henry Abington you were in search of was Mr, What have you to sayin explanation of the | Sigbert Parmilye.” | fact that that woman, Celeste Abington, still ** Is it possible!” — insane, to-day recognized your son on the street ‘** Not only possible, but true.” ** And his children?” ‘* His daughter you have seen. not know anything about.” ‘* You are sure of what you say?” ‘Tam sure of it. 1 would not tell you, but I as her husband? Any one can see that he and you look very much alike, allowing for differ- ences of ages, And how do you explain the fact that you werein the employ of Reuben Whitford, on Wall street, under the name of The son I do Henry Abington?” see that you are making such a great blunder in The last question was a bluff of the boldest | suspecting Mr. Blackwall.” sort. “Well, it will help me greatly to know this, sir,” Kinworth remarked, ‘‘and 1 am greatly obliged to you for the service.” ‘* You need not let Mr. Blackwall know that I have seen you, and that I have had anything to do with the matter,” “ All right, friend Griffit, I will hold it secret,” The head clerk soon went away, and when the door closed bebind him the detective laughed. ‘*Tbey must take me for an ass, indeed,” he mused. “But, they have given me a new thought, and I will profit by it.” He left the hotel by the rear way, was soon at the other where ‘‘Mr, Armstrong” was stop- ping, and ina little time he appeared on the street in that characte . He went to the late residence of Mr. Par- milye. ue Mrs. Swann answered his ring, and he ask to see Miss Parmilye, Blackwall’s face grew pale slightly, and he became nervous, though he tried hard to re- main cool and steady-nerved, Kinworth noted cit hag, ‘“*Tdo not attempt to explain any such non- sense, sir,” he retorted, with all the sternness of tone he could command, “It is my opinion that you are out of your mind. [I shall be obliged to youif you willtake yourself out of my office.” The detective felt sure of bis ground. It was seldom that he made a mistake.” . ‘Very well, Henry Abington,” he said, ris- ing, ‘‘I will go. I will not stop now to ask you to explain what you were doing in San Fran- cisco twenty-six years ago under the name of Henry Mancred. When next we meet [I may be able to tell you much.” ** Hold on, sir; a word with you,” the banker called ont, but the detective did not turn back, ‘** Now, sir,” Kinworth mused, as he walked When the young lady entered the room into away, “let me see what you willdo. If inno- | which he had been shown, he rose to greet her, cent, you will do one thing; if guilty, another.” | saying: ** Or course you do not remember me as your father’s friend. My name is Armstrong. I have called to see how you are situated, and to ask whether there is anything that I can do at this time.” This was said in a kind, fatherly way, and no offense could be taken, since he had announced himself as Mr. Parmilye’s friend. ‘*T am greatly obliged to you, sips” Miss Par- milye answered, “but [ do not Know of any- thing you can do for me. Mr. Blackwall as- sures me that there is sufficient for me at the bank, transferred from father’s name to mine, so I do not want for anything.” ‘“‘T am glad to hear that. May I ask what | your intention is for the future?” ‘“We, Mrs. Swann and I, are going to make our home with Mr. Blackwall’s family, as it was papa’s wish that I should do so.” worth was interested in this, 7 , CHAPTER XXIII. ONE GREAT DISCOVERY. HAVING made so bold a move, the detective bad to follow it up with another before Black- wall could rally. , He went straight to the home of the banker. Arriving at the house, be asked to see Mrs, Blackwall, and was shown into the parlor. “Mrs. Blackwall?” he politely asked, when the lady entered. “*T am she,” was the response, “Thave just come from Mr. Blackwall,” the detective explained. ‘‘Insurance business is over-exact, 2s [am sure you will say, but some questions have to be answered by the person to whom they are addressed, and none other. I will trouble ep only a moment, madam,” ‘*T will answer whatever you have to ask, I ' b+? & 5 ex.s ais Ve a se En. dull vw ee » Boas * And your means will be sufficient for all future needs, I presume?” In his disguise the detective could ask such questions. ‘* Yes, so I am assured by Mr. Blackwall.” ‘‘T am glad to hear that. And now you will gen me if I ask a personal question or two, id your father say anything to you before he died concerning something in his past life?” Kinworth’s sharp eyes saw that the young lady became tanerexted in this immediately, and she grew slightly nervous. ‘* He did not,” she answered. ° ‘* Nor anything concerning yourself?” ‘¢ N-no, sir.” ‘‘Well, let me put my question in a little different form; or rather change it a little in its nature. Do you know that there is some secret in connection with the past?’ Ki.worth was on dangerous ground now, but he was feeling bis way. Miss Parmilye’s increased agitation told him plainly that there was something of the kind there, that there was a skeleton in the closet somewhere. Her answer confirmed it, ‘‘T am aware that there is some secret, but what the nature of it is 1 do not know,” she said, ‘Perhaps I may be able to enlighten you, then, though I cannot promise to do so immedi- ately. How long has your housekeeper been with you?” ‘‘ Longer than I can remember, sir.” ‘* Indeed! Will you call ber in and introduce me to her? That is, if you have no objections to her hearing our conversation.” ‘‘No objections whatever, sir; in fact I shall be glad to have her present, She is like a mother to me.” ‘* You do not remember your mother, then?” ‘“No, sir. I will call Mrs, Swann at once.” She stepped from the room, and the detectiv> looked around him with interest. But there was nothing important for him to see, The room was nicely but not expensively furnished, and not unlike other rooms of its kind in the neigh- borhood. In a few moments Miss Parmilye returned, Mrs. Swann with ber, and the yung lady intro- duced the detective under the name he had given. ‘‘Perhaps you do not remember me, Mrs, Swann,” Kinworth remarked, “for it is some years since I was in New York last. In fact, I do notremember you. But, no matter, I suppose a friend of the late Mr. Parmilye is welcome,” “ Perfectly so, sir,” the housekeeper assured. ‘‘T have called to see if J could be of any as- sistance at this time, but I find that [cannot, I have just mentioned a matter of private interest to Miss— Pardon me, my daughter, but what is your first name? If I ever beard it I have forgotten it.” ‘“My name is Essylt, sir,” he was informed. The reader can imagine the flush of satisfac- tion which the detective experienced at this an- ncuncement. It was the name Mrs, Milburn bad spoken when calling for her child, during her fit of dream-like insanity in the room that had once been her own. **T have just mentioned,” he went on, address- ing Mrs. Swann, “a matter of a private fuature in which Miss Essylt has a deep interest. That is the matter of a secret which her father car- ried with him té the grave. I presume you do not know who your mother was, do you, my ebild?”’ turning back to Essylt, ‘| do not,” she answered, dropping ber gaze to the floor, asthe warm blood mounted into her face, ‘Nor you, either, I presume,” to Mrs, Swann, ‘No, sir,” she owned, “Then I suppose it will remain for me to in- form you. ButI ei? not do so at this time. E will consider that, By the way, my child, did ou PO yt your father concerning it in his ast hours “Ves, sir, I did, and begged him to tell me all about it.” “ And what did he say?” “He said that it was better that I should never know. That to know it would make me upbappy. When I pressed him to tell me some- thing of my mother, all he would say was that I was the issue of honorable wedlock.” “ And he spoke the trath,” Mr. Armstrong affirmed, ‘‘ Your mother’s name was— But perhaps I had better bold that until I can show you undoubted proof.” ‘‘No, no,” earnestly, ‘‘ tell me something now, I pray you.” * Well, on condition that you will not betra where you learned it, unless to Mr Blackwall, will, ‘* Oh! we promise that, sir!” Mrs. Swann nodded to affirm the promise. ‘Very well, I will tell you something, but not all. Your mother’s name was Miss Celeste Whitford, of this city. Your parents were married July 30th, 1854. You were born May 20th, 1858, Now ask no questions, for I will say no more, I desire, on the contrary, to ask some of Mrs. Swann.” The two women could only look upon their strange visitor in blank amazement, ho could he be? What more did he know? Gone! ICO " a #, ish LIS + ay, ‘ _——- re t