Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 580 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

cs madam?” he asked. __- with care. — $ e a « Ps a ?. ," - _.of their birth. After the death of Mr, Whit- | ‘clear up the mystery and bring a lost child into so he answered good-naturedly: By -cret, will 1? And the world will say, ‘ There, I _ stands ready toapplaud you. up. Don’t you éo him. | : A a a ee en a > od ws <4 yr i * Bal an : P ~ ’ =n - e* + 28 “Very well. Please pay attention as I do so, He had noticed that there was something be- m3 years ago you were the housekeeper of | tween them. Reuben Whitford. He had a daughter Celeste,; ‘*‘ Yes, I must say that I agree with you, who married a clerk in her father’s bank. His | young man,” the old man owned. ‘I am sure mame was Abington. They lived at No. — —— | she has kept ker secret well, whatever it may street. You used to be with Mrs, Abington a | be,” good deal. She had two children, one a_ boy ‘*Of course she has! Madam, it is your duty and the other a baby girl. I know the dates | to tellitnow, To hold it longer would be al- most a sin, Listen: When Henry Abington left New York with his wife, he put his children in charge of a woman named Mrs, Swann. He gave his name to her as Sigbert Parmilye.” Mrs Snipes gave a start. “One of the children became lost,” the de- tective went on. ‘“‘ The other is living, and is now twenty-seven years old. She is the daugh- ter of the late partner in that banking-house Shadowing a Shadow. ford, Henry Abington and his wife and chil- dren disappeared. Do you know what became of them?” Mrs. Snipes was paying strict attention. Her eyes were wide open with wonder. Who was | this young man who knew so much of the past so well? ‘“Young man,” she answered, ‘‘ may be I do, and may be I don’t. What do you want to | there,” , know about them for? What is your object in “You are much mistaken, sir,” Mrs. Snipes asking these questions?” interrupted. “Then you ought to set me right. But, hear me out: Abington took his wife to San Fran- cisco, put her in a mad-house tbere, and left her to her fate. He never went for her, and never was heard of again.” ‘** Did he do that?” ‘“* He did.” ‘*The wretch! But, I will tell what I know when the time is ripe.” ‘**When the time is ripe!” the detective ex- claimed; ‘‘it is ripe now.” ‘“Noit ain’t,” the woman opposed. ‘It will be ripe when I am put on the witness stand, where I can show that one woman in the world has kept a secret.”’ ‘**Ha! you will tell then, will you?” **'Yes, [ will tell then.” : Mr. Woggs rubbed his hands and looked on smiling. He even winked at the old lady. ‘* Mrs, Snipes is sharp,” be told himself, “‘ and she is smart enough for him. Iam proud of her, He won’t get much out of her,” ‘* My object,” the detective answered, ‘‘is to er mother’s arms. I can tell you a good deal more i f you are not yet willing to tell me any- thing. ** Answer me one question,” said the old lady, ** and Ill talk to you.” “Very well, what is your question?” peter is the mother and daughter you speak of **The mother is Celeste Whitford—as her name used to be, and the daughter is her baby Ess y lt.” **Good enough! I will trouble you no further ‘*Celeste Whitford alive?” the woman ex-/| now. You faithfully promise that you will ap- claimed. r when wanted, and will tell everything?” “ec I will,” At that the detective hud to stop. He was somewhat put out that be could not get her to tell what she knew, but since she had prom- ised to tell it finally, and he now knew where to find her, he let it rest. She could tell bim noth- ing new, though from her own words she thought she could; but he wanted her to prove his suspicions, and to identify persous, ** Allow me to make one confession before we part,” he observed: “‘I am not the man [ claimed to be. I am not Mr. Armstrong, but his agent. He is an older man, and it is likely that he will be the next one to come and see you. He will take you to see Celeste Whitford —as her name used to be.” With that he went on, leaving the old pair looking after him in surprise, ‘Say there is nothing new under the sun now, will you, Mister Woggs!” the old woman exclaimed. ‘ This beats the world. Who would have thought it\” ‘*You are a clever woman, Mrs, Snipes, a mighty clever woman,” Woggs complimented. ‘““T am proud to know you, and I shall be prouder when you are my appy bride.” ‘**T would tell you all about it, Woggsy, dear, but then 1 would not be keeping the secret. Didn’t I put bim off nice, though? I tell you J can keep a secret, if no other woman can, so you mustn’t mind if I say again— Never do you mind, Mister Woggs, never do you mind.” ‘*T sha’n’t mind at all,” Woggs declared. ‘That is right. Don’t you mind at all. When the time is ripe, and [ am called on to speak, then you shall be present, and if you will “ye your ears open you wil] bear something that will surprise you. Then you will know something that that little Griffit knows.” ‘‘Ohb, I shall be on hand, Missus Snipes, and _ never fear,” I! “Of course you will, and— Well, there, I ‘She is alive,” the detective assured, ‘‘ and if you will give me some information I promise -you that you shall see her.” **] will tell you anything and Ay Aberin sir!” Mrs. Snipes hastily promised. ‘ Only as what you want to know,” “Very well. Tell me whether you ever saw ‘this before.” As he spoke he drew from his pocket the leaf containing the family record, the paper he had found on the previous night. She took it and looked at it. ** Yes,” she answered, ‘‘ I have seen it before, It used to be in a Bibie that Celeste had.” ‘*Good. Now, do you know what becanse of Henry Whitford?” Mrs, Snipes suddenly became reserved. She looked at Woggs, and remembered that she had time and again declared to bim that she was a "woman who could keep a secret, if no other ‘woman could, ‘“*f know a good deal,” she declared, “and I know some things that I ain’t quite ready to tell. As I[ have said to Mr, Woggs here, many and many’s the time, | am a woman who car keep a secret if no other woman can, A wink is just as good as a nod, a wink is, sir, from me. This is a wink, sir,” distorting one eye, “and this is a nod, sir,” bobbing ber head; “**and you can’t say that one ain’t just as god as t’other, now can you?” Kinworth was haif-disgusted. He saw that he would have to bumor the old woman, though, ‘““The wink seems to be about as good as the nod, madam, so far as I can see.” ‘* That is what I baveallus told Mister Woggs, sir. And now, as I bave told him, too, sir— . mever do you mind what I know, sir.” | ‘But, my good woman,” the detective pro- | ‘tested, ‘* you promised to tell me everything.” “That was before I thought of this, sir. ae aed naa ae a _ a Re have made up my mind, sir, that a woman can | declare! [| meant to watch which way that mer a secret, and I mean to prove it,” young man went, and I forgot it. Did you no- inworth was now altogether disgusted. He | tic?’ felt as though he would like to take hold of the -old woman and shake the information out of her. But it would never do to take harsh measures. ** How long have you been keeping this secret, ‘*No, I did pot. And I must go back to my corner. Ob! Missus Snipes, there is notbin’ atweep us now, and soon we shall be all in all to—” ‘Oh! goodness me!” the old woman exclaim- ed, interrupting, ‘‘[ bad forgotten my r McAllester! Here he is on the ground, with bis shroud half on and half off! Thisisawful, Do not speak of happiness now, Mister Woggs: wait till McAllester is cold in the grave, at any rate, ' ** Alas, yes,” sighed Woggs, as he hobbled away; “ but, bappiness is at hand at last. No more tom-cat, and no more pipe—Ugh! no; no more pipe!” ‘*This many a year, sir,” was the reply. “Then have you not shown the world that you can keepa secret? I think you have, and that the world will say, ‘ Well done!’ Now the time is ripe for you to let out what you know, and make the wrong right. You will be doing much good.” But, if I tell you, then I won’t have no se- told you so!’” *“*Not so, madam, I am sure that the world You will make me happy, and will have done to your- Be “You don’t know the world as well I do, young man,” The blood of the detective was boiling, but he had to keep it down and had to play his game CHAPTER XXXVITI. A DUEL TO THE DEATH, In the mean time Detective Kinworth had en- tered the bank, He was somewhat chagrined at the way he had been g's off by Mrs. Snipes, now that he had found her, but he made the best of it. True, he might have got out of her all that she could tell, bad he questioned her closely, but he did not think it worth the trouble, as he could oblige her to tell at another time, if necessary. He found the banker in, and his face showed that he had passed a troubled and sleepless night. He looked haggard and worn. © ** But, think of the wrong you will do your old employer’s daughter, Mrs, Snipes, if you persist in refusing to tell what you know,” he argued. “It is your duty to set forth everything you can, so thata aah a of thé past can be cleared think so, Mr. Woggs?” turning ‘IT am glad you are here, young man,” he greeted, ‘‘ for I want to have a talk with you.” ‘‘That is what I am here for, sir,” Kinworth announced, ‘*T want to ask you, first, what interest Mrs. Morgan Milburn has in this case, if any?” The detective was not surprised. He knew that Blackwall had got that point at the hotel. ‘*Her interest in it,” was the answer, ‘‘is that of a deeply wronged wife, She and Celeste Abington are one !” ‘* Heavens!” ** Does it surprise you? It need not. There may be more surprisesin store for you in the near future,” ** What do you mean?” ** Just what I say. This game is about com- ing toa head. I haveit all in hand now, and know your triple secret, Mr. Henry Abington!” ‘Then you still insist that [ am Henry Abing- ton? You are wide of the mark, my boy. The real Henry Abington died when Sigbert Par- milye died.” ‘*Pab! I know that Henry Abington and Sigbert Parmilye were one and the same. If one is dead the other must be. Dare you assert that Sigbert Parmilye’s dead?” **Of course he is dead,” the banker stoutly maintained. ‘‘ How can you think otherwise? He is dead and buried, asa hundred witnesses can testify.” ‘** Dare you invite the insurance companies to open his grave ?” The banker’s face grew white, and perspir- ation started upon his brow. ‘‘ It is useless to deny it,” the inflexible detec- tive went on, ‘‘for I know the whole case. I have unearthed the whole foul game!” ‘*My God!” the banker cried, ‘** J am lost !” He leaned back in his chair, his head fell for- ward on his breast, and bis arms fell into his lap. His words had been uttered in a hoarse whis- per. ‘* Yes, you are lost!” the detective affirmed. ‘** You have sowed the wind; you must reap the whirlwind, I see no way for you to escape the calamity that is upon you.” The wretched man groaned. ‘* You assert that you know all,” he presently said; ‘* what do you know?” Kinworth leaned over the table and spoke for some minutes in an almost whisper and very earnest manner. ; ‘Tt is true, true!” the hanker moaned rather —; said; “it is all true. But, that is not In turn he told something in the same guarded tone, as though the very air in the room with them should not beur. ‘* That does not surprise me, for I had guessed the truth,” Kinworth averred. ‘*Then you must save me, Oh! this is horri- ble, horrible! Will you not save me? You wust, you shall save me from this awful ruin!” ** Tell me how I am to do it, sir.” ‘How you are to do it? Why, tell that woman anything, so long as Fon do not tell her the truth! Put her off! Tell her that vou have failed to leary anything. Let this secret die with us. Who will be the wiser?” ‘**Tinpossible!” the detective sternly declared. ‘All my sympathy goes on the other side, Shall I leave that mother forever without ber children? Shall I leave that pure girl witha blot of mystery upon ber past, when her motber is yearning for ber? Shall I leave that son — without a name, when he has an honorable birtbright? Shall the lives of three persous be blighted further, that you be left free to carry on your villainy? Heaven forbid! Shall I tar- nish my reputation as a detective by declaring that I am unable to work out the mystery? Why, with the clews I bave been putting into Mrs. Milburn’s bands, the veriest novice could finish the work! No; vour fate is before you, and I will not raise one finger to avert it.” . ‘*You forget that I saved you the other night —even last night.” ** After 70 bad conspired to have me killed! But, no; I do not forget that. I will at least put forth an effort to keep you out of prison, I can promise no more,” ‘*1t is public exposure that I dread more than anything else.” ** And well you may.” ‘Oh! this is awful, spare me! You can turn this swo aside if you will.” ** Only that it be plunged the deeper into inno- cent hearts? No! You must reap the fruit of our sowing. I can do no more for you than I have promised, I will try to make terms with the insurance companies so that they will spare ou. me But, if I do not get that money I am ruined! Come, I will give you balf—” ‘‘No more of that! You do not know me!” “But, think of mv wife and children—” ‘* You disgust me!” the detective declared, as he rose to go, ‘I cannot remain in the same room with you any longer. You sball hear from me later.” And without pausing to notice the pleading call he hastened out of the building. Blackwall paced the floor in the heat of rage . (ey nayicel: You must—you shall of Fate 100 zs) a () 4 “iS i () \