Beadle's Dime Library No. 762: The Rounder Rogue in New York — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

. Old Grip, the Detective. 29 dictu ! Gladys drive an hour before, was at the piano for her ‘‘ dear, good husband’s” special delectation. Old Grip could scarcely believe what he heard. But he did not even yet or the absolute desperateness of La Belle Dame du Souris Glucé; and, even as he marveled, some rich chords were heard struck out of the piano by an assured hand, and then the melodious contralto voice that he knew so well, but had never until that moment listened to in song rose throbbing and ri pling in the pathos and the passion of ‘* Douglas, Douglas, tender and ” The intruders were in the basement whither Eleanor had noiselessly come them, without disturbing the household. ‘*Where are Meg and Ralph?” demanded the Jeter be Ay? rv 1. us ‘*In my lady’s apartments, packing up every- thing they can lay their bands on as if for dear life. Ihave no doubt she meditates a secret flight at the earliest opportunity.” Old wor g beckoned the officers to one side, and whispered his instructions. ssage, own to CHAPTER XLI, CONCLUSION. IN obedience to the detective’s instructions, the officers slipped quietly up-stairs, were so for- tunaute as to meet none of the servants, and gain- ed Gladys’s private apartments, There both Romany Ralph and Mincing Meg were taker! into custody without any dis- turbance—indced they were so thoroughly sur- prised as to be incapable of immediate resist- ance, and certain timely threats, together with the uniforms of the officers, had effected the rest—after which one cf the policemen returned to the detective. A few moments later, having sent Boston Nell up-stairs, and Boe aa the policeman just outside the door, Old Grip summarily entered the draw- ing-room, r. Hardy, who was reclining in an invalid- chair, with his gouty foot supported by cush- ions, and Leslie, who was in the act of turning the rousic for Gladys, greeted the intrusion with a blank stare of astonishment. Avice and the St. Johns, who could at least suspect the truth, turned somewhat pale, but remained composed. As for Gladys, her action was little short of the incredible. She was in the midst of her song when the apparition of the detective rose before her eyes, and she must have fully recog- nized that her course was run; but not an eye- lid quivered, there was not an added flutter to the weird, mysterious smile that was the haunt- ing characteristic of her dark beauty, and she steadily finished the stanza she was singing without an increased tremor of her magnificent voice, She had risen from the instrument with a perfect affectation of astonishment at the de- tective’s intrusion, glancing with apparent be- wilderment from Mr, Hardy to Leslie, and then to the others, But before she could k, as was evidently her intention, the detective had taken his cue, and was literally pouring forth his story of her crimes, Abrupt but calm, eloquent but terse, the aw- fulrecord flowed from his lips in an uninter- rupted stream. In five minutes he had almost completed bis sketch of the terrible creature’s terrible career, from what was rhaps the initial crime of ber early MP in distant Geor- gia to the ruthless assassination of that night, still so redly fresh upon her jeweled bands, Mr. Hardy had almost fainted under the nar- ration, while the other listeners—with thesingle exception of Gladys herself, who had not chang- ed an iota of her admirably sustained bewilder- ment, so to speak—were scarcely less painfully affected. ‘*Good God!” faltered the old gentleman, starting upright in his chair; ‘‘ can this be true?” ‘‘ More than I have related of the woman is true,” replied the detective, in his severe man- ner. ‘‘T presume, sir,” inte Leslie, who was very white and steadily avoided looking at Gladys, ‘‘ that you would not venture to make these appalling charges without absolute proof astotheirtruth.” — “You are right, sir; I would not,” continued Grippon. ‘' Witnesses are not wanting to attest the truth of everything that I have charged. Circumstantial evidence of the most convincing character is not wanting. And, lastly, docu- mentary evidence, in the shape of the woman’s written confession of her crimes, is at hand. ‘¢ Documentary evidence!” “Yes: behold!” , And he forthwith produced the telltale diary! Gladys, who had remained imperturbable, was seen to wince a little now, but it was only for an instant. + ‘‘ What is that book?’ demanded Leslie, “The accused woman’s diary,” by sea the de- tective. ‘‘ By some inexplicable fatuity, which \ a A i a ce me Tn ce A A a a a a a Te a a a ee Se eee acme who had come home from her | is, nevertheless, not infrequently the accompani- ment of criminality, even among the shrewdest and most intellectually depraved, this woman has kept a periodical record of her career, in which she narrates ber crimes and misdoings to the minutest particular. That record is herein my hand.” e sunk back in his seat and buried his face in his hands. ‘It hardly seems credible!” he half-sobbed. **T cannot realize it.” The old merchant, who had sunk into a sort of dazed stupor, suddenly roused himself; like one endeavoring to break away from a night- mare. ** Heavens!” he faltered; ‘‘and I have loved this creature—trusted her—called her wife /” Grippon leoked at him with the profoundest thy and commiseration. ** Sir,” said he, ‘‘ remember, from what I have set forth, that she is not and could never have been your wife. No morecould she have been the lawful consort of the unfortunate English gentleman whose victimization at the altar pre- ceded your own. Her first husband, from whom she had never been divorced, was living at the time she contracted those alliances, and she was perfectly aware of it. He, Joseph Farley, was identical with the miserable tramp who was found dying in ee conserva , at this woman’s feet, on the night of the bal masque— poisoned by this woman’s hands!” For tbe first time since the charges began, Gladys gave utterance to a sound—a derisive laugh. . Proofs of everything egy shall be duly forthcoming,’ went on the detective. ‘‘ The dead man’s stomach, on being secretly analyzed, betrayed the presence of a violent poison, such as bad been previously purchased at this wo- man’s instance. Moreof the same was found in the champagne bottle from which she had ad- ministered the wine, after receiving it from her minion, Richards—her half-brother, Romany Ralph. That the poor wretch was this woman’s true husband, I have the proofs here.” He roduced the pocketbook. ‘It was taken from he dead man, and contains papers indisputably in proof of what I assert.” s he finished speaking, a dead silence fell upon the group, more painful than is often wit- nessed in the saddest tragedies of real life, It was broken by Gladys composedly return- ing to the piano, wher@, still standing, she ran over the keys with the fingers of one hand, ex- i ing da a score or more of brilliant chords. Then, turning, with a gentle, injured glance that comprehended all present, she un ulated slowly to the door, with the grace of a Castilian and tne bearing of an empress. ‘* Hold!” shouted Mr, Hardy, ina harsh, un- natural voice, that, nevertheless, had some- thing half-imploring init. ‘* Woman! I charge you stay, and answer these charges.” She paused, regarding him with the deepest respect, and yet with a strange tenderness. ‘*Charges, Wallace!” she echoed. ‘* What charges? You surely would not dignify the insane fabrications of this hireling wretch,” with a contemptuous gesture toward the detec- tive, “‘ with such a name? Charges! Why, were I no woman at all, but a fiend incarnate, I could not have perpetrated the deeds he bas enumerated, No, no, Papa Wallace, I cannot wey at even your precious bidding.” he detective offered no interposition as she again approached the door. ° ut upon opening it, and perceiving the stal- wart uniformed policeman barring the passage, she shrunk back, with something like a gasp and for the first time suggested a weakening of her iron nerve, She almost instantly recovered herself, how- ever, and turned to the detective haughtily. £ Fag I to consider myself under arrest?” she asked, ** Most assuredly.” ‘*‘ Will yOu permit me to go to my rooms to make some preparations?” ‘** Under guard, yes.” She swept across the floor, kissed Mr. Hardy before he could be aware of her intention, and returned. ‘You havea ring of mine,” she said, as Grip- pon held the door open for her. ‘‘I presume you will not deny my right to it.” Without a word, he handed her the beautiful opal, which shot fire as she slipped it on her fin- ger with a sort of loving gracefulness, and she passed up-stairs under the policeman’s escort. The detective was about to retire, when Mr. Hardy piteously signed him to stay. ‘* Sir,” said he, brokenly, ‘‘ you see before you a disgraced and miserable man, though it is through no fault of yours that this righteous and necessary exposure was brought about and must be made public. You will oblige me, if you will give a more ample account of your connection with this terrible case than you have yet stated.” The detective was not a little surprised at the request, but, after a moment’s reflection, he re- plied, with much gravity: ‘*Sir, I consider it my duty to comply with your desire, but before pe I wish to extend a hope to the effect that this exposure—at pres- ent confined to the circle of your family and close friends—may not necessarily entail social scandal and notoriety that you naturally so much dread,” ‘ ‘““What do you mean?’ cried the old mer- chant, while both Avice and Leslie looked up eagerly. ** At the present moment I cannot explain.” ‘* But, can there be an arrest, trial, convic- tion, and—and—” the word seemed to half- choke the old gentleman’s utterance—‘‘ the ig- nominious end, without the horrible publicity that we dread?” ** Assuredly not. I only ask you to wait.” And with these rather enigmatical] words, the detective began the narration, as re- quested, It consumed at least half an hour, and when he had finished there was still no word from up- stairs, At this juncture the policeman who had taken Gladys under guard made his appearance, with much seriousness in his honest face. ‘*I fear there is something wrong, sir,” said he, addressing the detective. ‘* Explain, please.” : “The lady hed me to Jet her go into her boudoir alone, I did so, and heard her moving around a bit. But for the last ten minutes there hasn’t been a sound, and I find she has locked both communicating doors.” er signed Leslie and St. John to accom- pany , and gave Avice a look, as much as to say: * ** This is what [ meant.” a They proceeded up-stairs, and knocked loud- ly, but without receiving a response, at the communicating door between the private girs ing-room and the boudoir. hen they burst open the door. She lay asif asleep on the richest divan of the sumptuous room, a gentle, composed look on the drooping eyelids and sweet lineaments of the upturned face, upon which the strange, mys- terious smile was frozen indeed at Jast, never to be t’ awed again, save at the slow touch of *‘ de og effacing fingers.” he was quite dead. Clasped between the thumb and middle finger of the right band was. the wonderful opal ring, but with the stone turned outward from its setting, like the lid of a fairy cup. : The cavity still contained a few drops of some colorless, strangely-smelling liquid, and it was doubtless of this that she had drank her death. * * - * * * * But little more remains to be told. The task is done, the tale hath ceased, the theme has died into an ecbo As old Grip had obscurely foreshadowed, in anticipating the suicide of Gladys, by money and influence the Hardy family was enabled to forego much of the unwelcome notoriety that might otherwise have been suffered through the woman’s death, and the revelations consequent. thereon. Indeed, the detailed history of that awful career have never been made public, and doubtless never wil], though the diary is still in the hands of Old Grip. Romany Ralph, alias Richards, was duly brought to trial for the murder of Mr. Vander- huysen. He was found guilty and sentenced to death, but found means to cheat the hangman by committing suicide in his prison-cell, and he died close-lipped. Mincing Meg, alias Johnson, was suffered to Seepeee into obscurity, which she did, proba- or bly a ccnsideration, without making any sign as to that crime-stained past in which the Lady of the Frozen Smile had figured so con spicuously and so tragically. Avice Hardy kept her word as to befriending Eleanor Williams, alias Boston Nell, and the ex-shoplifter has given evidence of deserving the benefaction. She is now the head matron of a Western reformatory for wayward girls and young women, honest and respected in her tion, with a small assured income outside of t; and her little boy is doing promisingly in a boarding-academy not far from the town of mother’s residence. Mr. Hardy survived the blow attendant upon Gladys’s exposure but a few months, and then passed away, leaving his great fortune in equal shares to his two children. Avice Hardy and Herbert St. Jobn were hap- pily married a al later, and have since then ived mostly in Europe. Mary St. John is with them, chiefly, it is said, to escape the unwelcome attentions of Leslie Hardy, who has persisted in making her numer- ous offers of his hand and heart, only to be firm- ly and steadfastly refused. It is to be hoped that she will continue refus- ing him. The hands of such young men as Les- lie Hardy are of ne small account, even when gold-lined, and, as for their hearts, they haven’t much of any worth mentioning! As for Grippon, he was amply rewarded for his services, and, as Old Grip, is still at the old stand, ready for any fresh adventures in the cause of law and order, and with the faithful Cheese-it still as his attendant sprite. THE END. com IOO G cs c|