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diff --git a/old/69984-h/69984-h.htm b/old/69984-h/69984-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 14421d7..0000000 --- a/old/69984-h/69984-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7389 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8"> - <title> - The Mystery of Central Park | Project Gutenberg - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> - <style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } -hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} -hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -ul.index { list-style-type: none; } -li.ifrst { - margin-top: 1em; - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 1em; -} -li.indx { - margin-top: .5em; - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 1em; -} -li.isub1 { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 2em; -} -li.isub2 { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 3em; -} -li.isub3 { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 4em; -} -li.isub4 { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 5em; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } -table.autotable td, -table.autotable th { padding: 4px; } - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: small; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: bold; - font-variant: small-caps;; - text-indent: 0; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - -.bb {border-bottom: 2px solid;} - -.bl {border-left: 2px solid;} - -.bt {border-top: 2px solid;} - -.br {border-right: 2px solid;} - -.bbox {border: 2px solid;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.u {text-decoration: underline;} - - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} -img.w100 {width: 100%;} - - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -.figleft { - float: left; - clear: left; - margin-left: 0; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 1em; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} -/* comment out next line and uncomment the following one for floating figleft on ebookmaker output */ -.x-ebookmaker .figleft {float: none; text-align: center; margin-right: 0;} -/* .x-ebookmaker .figleft {float: left;} */ - -.figright { - float: right; - clear: right; - margin-left: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-right: 0; - padding: 0; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} -/* comment out next line and uncomment the following one for floating figright on ebookmaker output */ -.x-ebookmaker .figright {float: none; text-align: center; margin-left: 0;} -/* .x-ebookmaker .figright {float: right;} */ - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:small; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; -} - -/* Illustration classes */ -.illowp100 {width: 100%;} -.illowp60 {width: 60%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp60 {width: 100%;} -.illowp88 {width: 88%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp88 {width: 100%;} -.illowp94 {width: 94%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp94 {width: 100%;} - - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The mystery of Central Park, by Nellie Bly</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The mystery of Central Park</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Nellie Bly</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 8, 2023 [eBook #69984]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Emmanuel Ackerman, PrimeNumber and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERY OF CENTRAL PARK ***</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Page 1]</span></p> - <h3>THE “NELLIE BLY” SERIES</h3> -</div> - -<hr class="r65"> - -<p class="center" style="font-weight:bold;font-size: 2em;"> - The Mystery of<br> - Central Park -</p> - -<figure class="figcenter illowp60" id="01" style="max-width: 15.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/01.jpg" alt="cover"> -</figure> - -<p class="center" style="font-weight: bold;"> - <span class="smcap">By</span> NELLIE BLY -</p> - -<hr class="r65"> - -<p class="center" style="font-weight: bold;"> - Originally published in the New York EVENING WORLD -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Page 2]</span> - <h3>MRS. MARY J. HOLMES’ NOVELS</h3> -</div> - -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center">Over a MILLION Sold.</p> - -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center" style="font-style: italic;font-weight: bold;">THE NEW BOOK</p> - -<p class="center" style="font-weight: bold;">GRETCHEN.</p> - -<p class="center" style="font-weight: bold;">JUST OUT.</p> - -<p class="center">The following is a list of Mary J. Holmes’ Novels.</p> - -<ul style="font-weight:bold;list-style-type: none"> -<li>TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE.</li> -<li>ENGLISH ORPHANS.</li> -<li>HOMESTEAD ON THE HILLSIDE.</li> -<li>LENA RIVERS.</li> -<li>MEADOW BROOK.</li> -<li>DORA DEANE.</li> -<li>COUSIN MAUDE.</li> -<li>MARIAN GREY.</li> -<li>EDITH LYLE.</li> -<li>DAISY THORNTON.</li> -<li>CHATEAU D’OR.</li> -<li>QUEENIE HETHERTON.</li> -<li>DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT.</li> -<li>HUGH WORTHINGTON.</li> -<li>CAMERON PRIDE.</li> -<li>ROSE MATHER.</li> -<li>ETHELYN’S MISTAKE.</li> -<li>MILLBANK.</li> -<li>EDNA BROWNING.</li> -<li>WEST LAWN.</li> -<li>MILDRED.</li> -<li>FORREST HOUSE.</li> -<li>MADELINE.</li> -<li>CHRISTMAS STORIES.</li> -<li>BESSIE’S FORTUNE.</li> -<li>GRETCHEN. [<em>New.</em>]</li> -</ul> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Page 3]</span> - <h1> - <small>THE</small><br> - MYSTERY<br> - <small>OF</small><br> - CENTRAL PARK. - </h1> -</div> - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 4em;margin-bottom: 4em;font-family: Century Gothic, sans serif;">A Novel.</p> - -<p class="center">BY</p> - -<p class="center">NELLIE BLY,</p> - -<p class="center">AUTHOR OF</p> - -<p class="center">“TEN DAYS IN A MAD HOUSE” <span class="allsmcap">AND</span> “SIX MONTHS<br> -IN MEXICO.”</p> - -<figure class="figcenter illowp88" id="02" style="max-width: 6.25em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/02.jpg" alt="colophon"> -</figure> - -<p class="center">NEW YORK:</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1889, by</span></p> - -<p class="center" style="font-style: italic;">G. W. Dillingham, Publisher, - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Successor to G. W. Carleton & Co.</span></p> - -<p class="center">MDCCCLXXXIX.</p> - -<p class="center" style="font-style: italic;">All Rights Reserved.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Page 4]</span> - - <p class="center"> - <span class="smcap">Trow’s<br> - Printing and Book Binding Co.</span>,<br> - N. Y. -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Page 5]</span> - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<table class="autotable"> - <thead> - <tr> - <th>Chapter</th> - <th> </th> - <th>Page</th> - </tr> - </thead> - <tbody> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Young Girl on the Bench</a></td> - <td class="tdr">7</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Penelope Sets a Hard Task for Dick</a></td> - <td class="tdr">19</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Wherein Dick Treadwell Meets with Another</a></td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Adventure</a></td> - <td class="tdr">45</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Story of the Girl who Attempted Suicide</a></td> - <td class="tdr">64</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">The Failure of the Strike</a></td> - <td class="tdr">77</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Is the Girl Honest?</a></td> - <td class="tdr">87</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Mr. Martin Shanks: Guardian</a></td> - <td class="tdr">95</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The Missing Stenographer</a></td> - <td class="tdr">103</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">The Stranger at the Bar</a></td> - <td class="tdr">114</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Tolman Bike</a></td> - <td class="tdr">121</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Who was the Man that Bought the Gown?</a></td> - <td class="tdr">139</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">One and the Same</a></td> - <td class="tdr">153</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">A Lovers’ Quarrel</a></td> - <td class="tdr">166</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Page 6]</span></td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">“Give Me Until To-Morrow.”</a></td> - <td class="tdr">177</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">“To Richard Treadwell, Personal.”</a></td> - <td class="tdr">190</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">The Mystery Solved</a></td> - <td class="tdr">205</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Sunlight Through the Clouds</a></td> - <td class="tdr">220</td> - </tr> - </tbody> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Page 7]</span> - - <p class="center" style="font-weight: bold;"> - THE - </p> - - <p class="center" style="font-weight: bold;"> - MYSTERY OF CENTRAL PARK. - </p> - - <hr class="r5"> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I"> - CHAPTER I.<br> - <small>THE YOUNG GIRL ON THE BENCH.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>“And that is your final decision?”</p> - -<p>Dick Treadwell gazed sternly at Penelope -Howard’s downcast face, and waited for a -reply.</p> - -<p>Instead of answering, as good-mannered -young women generally do, Penelope intently -watched the tips of her russet shoes, as they -appeared and disappeared beneath the edge -of her gown, and remained silent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Page 8]</span></p> - -<p>When she raised her head and met that -look, so sad and yet so stern, the faintest -shadow of a smile placed a pleasing wrinkle -at the corners of her brown eyes.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that is—my final decision,” she -repeated, slowly.</p> - -<p>Dick Treadwell dropped despondently on -a bench and, gazing steadily over the green -lawn, tried to think it all out.</p> - -<p>He felt that he was not being used quite -fairly, but he was at a loss for a way to remedy -it.</p> - -<p>Here he was, the devoted slave of the -rather plain girl beside him, who refused to -marry him, merely because he had never -soiled his firm, white hands with toil, nor -worried his brain with a greater task, since his -school days, than planning some way to kill -time.</p> - -<p>He was one of those unfortunate mortals -possessed of an indolent disposition, and had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Page 9]</span> -been left a modest legacy, that, though making -him far from wealthy, was still enough to support -him in idleness.</p> - -<p>He lacked the spur of necessity which -urged men on to greater deeds.</p> - -<p>In short, Richard was one of those worthless -ornaments of society that live, and die -without doing much good or any great harm.</p> - -<p>That he was an ornament, however, none -dared to deny, and the expressive brown eyes -of the girl, who had seated herself beside him -bore ample testimony that she was not unconscious -of his manly charms.</p> - -<p>Dick took off his straw hat, and after running -his firm, white fingers through his kinky, -light hair, crossed one leg over the other, while -he brooded moodily on his peculiar fate. The -frank, boyish expression, that had won him so -many admirers, was displaced by a heavy -frown, and his bright blue eyes gazed unseeingly -over the beautiful vista before him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Page 10]</span></p> - -<p>He could not understand why a girl should -get such crazy ideas, any way. There were -plenty of girls who made no effort to hide -their admiration for him, and he knew that -they could be had for the asking, if it only -wasn’t for Penelope.</p> - -<p>But, somehow, Penelope had more attraction -for him than any girl he had ever met. -Her very obstinacy, her independence, made -her all the more charming to him, even if it -was provoking.</p> - -<p>Penelope Howard was in no wise Dick -Treadwell’s mate in beauty.</p> - -<p>She was slender to boniness and tall, but -willowy and graceful, and one forgot her -murky complexion when gazing into the -depths of her bright, expressive eyes and -catching the curve of a wonderfully winsome -smile.</p> - -<p>Penelope was an heiress, though, to a million<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Page 11]</span> -dollars or more, and so no one ever called -her plain.</p> - -<p>She was an orphan and had been reared by -a sensible old aunt, who would doubtless leave -her another million.</p> - -<p>Penelope knew her defects as well and better -than did other people. She had no vanity -and was blessed with an unusual amount of -solid sense.</p> - -<p>Penelope Howard was well aware that she -would not have to go begging for a husband, -but she had loved handsome Dick Treadwell -ever since the year before she graduated at -Vassar. He had gone there to pay his devotions -to another fair under-graduate and came -away head over heels in love with Penelope. -Nevertheless Penelope was in no hurry to -marry.</p> - -<p>She loved Richard with all her heart, but -there was a barrier between them which he -alone could remove.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Page 12]</span></p> - -<p>“You know, Dick,” she said, softly, as he -still gazed across the green lawn, trying to -find a mental foothold, as it were, “that I told -you this before”——</p> - -<p>“Yes, this makes the sixth time I have -proposed,” he said, savagely, still looking -away.</p> - -<p>“I have always told you,” smiling slightly -at his remark and lowering her voice as she -glanced apprehensively at a girl seated on a -bench near by, “that I will not marry you as -long as you live as you do. I have money -enough for two, so it makes no difference -whether the man I marry has any or not. But -I can’t and won’t marry a—a worthless man—one -who has never done anything, and is too -indolent to do anything. I want a husband -who has some ability—who has accomplished -something—just one worthy thing even, and -then—well, it won’t make so much difference -if he is indolent afterwards. You know, Dick,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Page 13]</span> -how much I care for you,” softly, “how fond -I am of you, but I will not marry you until -you prove that you are able to do something.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all very easy to talk about,” he replied -savagely, “but what can I do? I don’t -dare risk what little I have in Wall street. I -don’t know enough to preach, or to be a -doctor, or a lawyer, and it takes too infernally -long to go back to the beginning and learn. -You object to my following the races, and I -couldn’t sell ribbons or run a hotel to save me. -Tell me what to do, Penelope, and I will -gladly make the attempt. When you took a—a -craze to walk in the Park at a hideous -hour every morning before your friends, who -don’t think it good form, were out to frown -you down, did I not promise to be your escort, -and haven’t I faithfully got up—or stayed up—to -keep my promise?”</p> - -<p>“And only late—let us see how many -times?” she asked roguishly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Page 14]</span></p> - -<p>“Penelope, don’t,” he pleaded. “You -know I love you. Why, Penel’, love, if I -thought that your foolish whim would separate -us forever I’d——Oh, darling, you -don’t doubt my love, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Hush!” she whispered, warningly, pointing -to the girl on the other bench.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she is asleep,” Dick replied carelessly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be too sure,” Penelope urged, gazing -abstractedly towards the girl, her eyes soft -with the feeling that was thrilling her heart.</p> - -<p>Like all girls Penelope never tired of hearing -the man who had won her love swearing -his devotion, but like all girls she preferred to -be the sole and only listener to those vows, to -that tone.</p> - -<p>“If she is awake she is the first young -woman I ever saw who would let her new La -Tosca sunshade lie on the ground,” he said -laughingly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Page 15]</span></p> - -<p>“She must be sleeping,” Penelope assented -indifferently, glancing at the parasol lying in -the dust where it had apparently rolled from -the girl’s knee.</p> - -<p>Two gray squirrels, with their bushy tails -held stiffly erect, came out on the dusty drive, -and finding everything quiet scampered across -to the green sward, where they stood upright -in the green grass viewing curiously the unhappy -lovers.</p> - -<p>Penelope had a mania for carrying peanuts -to the Park to give to the animals. She took -several from her reticule and tossed them towards -the gray squirrels.</p> - -<p>The one, with a little whistling noise scampered -up the nearest tree and the other, taking -a nut in his little mouth, quickly followed.</p> - -<p>“I have not seen her move since we came -here,” she said, returning to the subject of the -girl. “Do you suppose she put her hat over -her eyes in that manner to keep the light out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Page 16]</span> -of them, or was it done to keep any passers-by -from staring at her?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” carelessly. “Probably she -is ill.”</p> - -<p>“Ill? Do you think so, Dick? I am going -to speak to her,” declared Penelope, impulsively.</p> - -<p>“Don’t, I wouldn’t,” urged Dick.</p> - -<p>“But I will,” declared Penelope.</p> - -<p>“You don’t know anything about her,” he -continued pleadingly. “She may have been out -all night, or you can’t tell but perhaps she has -been drinking too much, and if you wake her -she will doubtless make it unpleasant for you.”</p> - -<p>“How uncharitable you are,” indignantly -exclaimed Penelope, who feared no one. She -had spent much time and money in doing -deeds of charity, and she had met all sorts and -conditions of women. That a woman was in -trouble and she could help her, was all Penelope -cared to know.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Page 17]</span></p> - -<p>She got up and walked towards the girl. -Richard, knowing all argument was useless, -went with her. When they stopped, Penelope, -bending down, peeped beneath the brim of the -lace hat which, laden with an abundance of -red roses, was tilted over the motionless girl’s -face.</p> - -<p>“She is sleeping,” she whispered softly to -Dick. “Her eyes are closed. She has a lovely -face.”</p> - -<p>“Has she, indeed?” and Dick, with increased -interest, bent to look. “She is very -pale and—I am afraid that she is ill,” in an -awed tone. “Young lady!” he called nervously.</p> - -<p>The girlish figure never moved. Richard’s -and Penelope’s eyes met with a swift expression—a -mingled look of surprise and fear.</p> - -<p>“My dear!” called Penelope, gently shaking -the girl by the shoulder.</p> - -<p>The lace hat tumbled off and lay at their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Page 18]</span> -feet; the little hands, which had been folded -loosely in her lap, fell apart and the girlish -figure fell lengthwise on the bench.</p> - -<p>Breathlessly and silently the frightened -young couple looked at the beautiful upturned -face framed in masses of golden hair; -the blue-rimmed eyes, with their curly dark -lashes resting gently against the colorless -skin; the parted lips in which there lingered a -bit of red.</p> - -<p>Nervously Richard touched the cheek of -pallor, and felt for the heart and pulse.</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong there?” called a gray-uniformed -officer, who had left his horse near the -edge of the walk.</p> - -<p>Penelope silently looked at Richard, waiting -for him to answer, and as he raised his -face all white and horror-stricken, he gasped:</p> - -<p>“My God! The girl is dead.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Page 19]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II"> - CHAPTER II.<br> - <small>PENELOPE SETS A HARD TASK FOR DICK.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>Richard Treadwell was not mistaken.</p> - -<p>The golden-haired girl was dead.</p> - -<p>The fair young form was taken to the -Morgue, and for some days the newspapers -were filled with accounts of the mystery of -Central Park, and everybody was discussing -the strange case.</p> - -<p>And what could have been more mysterious?</p> - -<p>A young and exquisitely beautiful girl, -clad in garments stylish and expensive, -although quiet in tone, and such as women of -refinement wear, found dead on a bench in -Central Park by two young people, whose -social position was in those circles where to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Page 20]</span> -brought in any way to public notice is considered -almost a disgrace.</p> - -<p>And to add to the mystery of the case the -most thorough examination of the girl’s body -had failed to show the slightest wound or discoloration, -or the faintest clue to the cause of -the girl’s death.</p> - -<p>The newspapers had all their own theories. -Some were firm in their belief of foul play, -but they could not even hint at the cause of -death, and how such a lovely creature could -have been murdered, if murder it was, in -Central Park and the assassin or assassins -escape unseen, were riddles they could not -solve.</p> - -<p>Other journals hooted at the idea of foul -play. They claimed the girl had, while walking -in Central Park, sat down on the bench, -and died either of heart disease or of poison -administered by her own hand.</p> - -<p>The police authorities maintained an air of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Page 21]</span> -impenetrable secrecy, but promised that within -a few days they would furnish some startling -developments. They did not commit themselves, -however, as to their ideas of how the -girl met her death. In this they were wise, -for the silent man is always credited with -knowing a great deal more than the man does -who talks, and so the public waited impatiently -from day to day, confident the police would -soon clear the mystery away.</p> - -<p>Hundreds of people visited the Morgue, -curious to look upon the dead girl.</p> - -<p>Many went there in search of missing -friends, hoping and yet dreading that in the -mysterious dead girl they would find the one -for whom they searched.</p> - -<p>People from afar telegraphed for the body -to be held until their arrival, but they came -and went and the beautiful dead girl was still -unidentified.</p> - -<p>Penelope Howard and Richard Treadwell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Page 22]</span> -were made to figure prominently in all the -stories about the beautiful mystery, much to -their discomfort. The untiring reporters -called to see Penelope at all hours, whenever a -fresh theory gave them an excuse to drag her -name before the public again, and poor -Richard had no peace at his club, at his rooms, -or at Penelope’s home. If the reporters were -not interviewing him, his friends were asking -all manner of questions concerning the strange -affair, and pleading repeatedly for the story of -the discovery of the body to be told again. -Some of his club acquaintances even went -so far as to joke him about the girl he had -found dead, and there was much quiet smiling -among his immediate friends at Dick’s fondness -for early walks, a trait first brought to light by -his connection with this now celebrated case.</p> - -<p>Not the least important figure in the sensation -was the Park policeman who found -Penelope and Richard bending over the dead<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Page 23]</span> -girl. He became a very great personage all -at once. The meritorious deeds which -marked his previous record were the finding -of a lost child and the frantically chasing a -stray dog, which he imagined was mad, and -wildly firing at it—very wide of the mark, it is -true—until the poor frightened little thing disappeared -in some remote corner.</p> - -<p>This officer became the envy of the Park -policemen. Daily his name appeared in connection -with the case as “the brave officer of -the ‘Mystery of Central Park.’” Daily he -was pointed out by the people, who thronged -to the spot where the girl was found, curious -to see the bench and to carry away with them -some little memento. He always managed to -be near the scene of the mystery during the -busy hours of the Park, and the dignity with -which he answered questions as to the exact -bench, was very impressive.</p> - -<p>But the officer’s pride at being connected<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Page 24]</span> -with such a sensational case was not to be -wondered at.</p> - -<p>Rarely had New York been so stirred to -its depth over a mysterious death. The newspapers -published the most minute descriptions -of the dead girl’s dainty silk underwear, of -her exquisitely made Directoire dress, of her -Suéde shoes, the silver handled La Tosca sunshade, -and more particularly did they dwell on -descriptions of her dainty feet and tiny hands, -of her perfect features and masses of beautiful -yellow hair.</p> - -<p>There was every indication of refinement -and luxury about her.</p> - -<p>How came it, then, that a being of such -beauty and grace could have no one who -missed her; could have no one to search -frantically the wide world for her?</p> - -<p>The day of the inquest came.</p> - -<p>Penelope, accompanied by her aunt and -Richard, were forced to be present. Penelope<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Page 25]</span> -in a very steady voice told how they found the -body, and she was questioned and cross-questioned -as to the reason why she should -have become so interested in the sight of an -apparently sleeping girl as to accost her.</p> - -<p>It was a most unusual thing.</p> - -<p>Did she not think that it had been suggested -by the young man who accompanied -her?</p> - -<p>Penelope’s cheeks burned and she became -very indignant at their efforts to connect -Richard more closely with the case, and she -related all that had transpired after they spoke -of the girl with such minuteness and ease, -that it was hinted afterwards that she had -studied the story in order to protect the -culprit.</p> - -<p>Poor Richard came next.</p> - -<p>His story did not differ from Penelope’s, -and while no one said in so many words -that they suspected him of knowing more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Page 26]</span> -than he divulged, yet he felt their suspicions -and accusations in every question and every -look.</p> - -<p>A very knowing newspaper had that same -morning published a long story, relating instances -where murderers could not remain -away from their victims, and always returned -to the spot, in many cases pretending to be -the discoverer of the murder. The story -finished by demanding that the authorities decide -at the inquest whose hand was in the -murder of the beautiful young girl.</p> - -<p>Dick, remembering all this, felt his heart -swell with indignation at the tones of his examiner.</p> - -<p>Penelope was more indignant, if anything, -than Dick, but she had read in a newspaper -that repudiated the theory of murder, a collection -of accounts of deaths which had been -thought suspicious that were afterwards -proven to be the result of heart disease or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Page 27]</span> -poison, and she quietly hoped that the doctors -who held the post-mortem examination -would set at rest all the doubts in the case.</p> - -<p>The park policeman, in a grandiloquent -manner, gave his testimony.</p> - -<p>He told how he found the young couple -bending over the dead girl, who was half lying -on a bench. When the officer asked what was -wrong, the young man, who seemed excited -and frightened—and he laid great stress on -those words—replied “The girl is dead.” The -officer had then looked at the body but did not -touch it. The young people denied any -knowledge of the girl’s identity, and then his -suspicions being aroused he asked the young -man why he had replied “The girl is dead,” if -he did not know her?</p> - -<p>The young man repeated that he had -never seen the dead girl before, and his companion -gave him a quick, frightened glance; so -the officer said sternly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Page 28]</span></p> - -<p>“Be careful, young man, remember you -are talking to the law; I’ll have to report -everything you say.”</p> - -<p>And then the officer paused to take breath -and at the same time to give proper weight to -his words. Everybody took the opportunity -to remove their gaze from the officer and to -see how Dick Treadwell was bearing it. They -were getting more interested now and nearly -everyone felt that the elegant young man -would be in the clutches of the law by the -time the inquest was adjourned.</p> - -<p>The officer cleared his throat and in a -deep, gruff voice continued his story.</p> - -<p>At his warning the young man had flushed -very red, then paled, and then he called the -officer a fool.</p> - -<p>Still the conscientious limb of the law determined -to know more about two young people, -who, while able to drive, were doing such -unusual and extraordinary things as walking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Page 29]</span> -early in the Park and happening upon the dead -body of a young girl; so he asked the young -man why, if he did not know the girl, he did -not say “<em>a</em> girl is dead here,” instead of “<em>the</em> -girl is dead,” whereupon the young man told -the officer again that he was a fool, adding several -words to make it more emphatic, and at -this the young girl, who stood by very gravely -up to this time, had the boldness and impudence -to laugh.</p> - -<p>Richard Treadwell was called again, and -had to repeat the reason of his early walk in -the Park, and had to tell where he spent the -previous evening, which was proven by Penelope -and her aunt. He was questioned why -he used the definite article instead of the indefinite -in answering the officer’s question. -He could offer no explanation.</p> - -<p>That a man should say “<em>the</em> girl” instead -of “<em>a</em> girl,” and that he should be excited over -finding the body of a girl unknown to him,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Page 30]</span> -were things that looked very suspicious to the -law, and those in charge of the inquest had no -hesitancy in showing the fact.</p> - -<p>A few persons whose testimony was unimportant -were called, and then came the doctors -who had made the post-mortem examination. -Nothing was discovered to indicate -murder or suicide, nor, indeed, could they -come to any definite conclusion as to the cause -of death.</p> - -<p>The coroner’s jury brought in an indefinite -verdict, showing that they knew no more -about the circumstances or cause of the girl’s -death than they did at the beginning of the -inquest. With this unsatisfactory conclusion -the public was forced to rest content.</p> - -<p>They did know that the girl had not been -shot or stabbed, which was some satisfaction, -at any rate.</p> - -<p>Penelope persuaded her aunt and Richard -to accompany her through the Morgue. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Page 31]</span> -was deeply hurt at the way in which Dick had -been treated. Still she wanted to look on -the face of the fair young girl, the cause of all -the worriment, before she was taken to her -grave.</p> - -<p>“How dreadful!” exclaimed Penelope’s -aunt, as the keeper unbolted the door and -waited, before he closed it, for them to enter -the low room.</p> - -<p>She tiptoed daintily over the stone floor—which, -wet all over, had little streams formed -in places flowing from different hose—holding -her skirts up with one hand, and with the -other hand held a perfumed handkerchief over -her aristocratic nose. Penelope, with serious -but calm face, kept close to the keeper, and -Richard walked silently with the aunt.</p> - -<p>“I thought the bodies lay on marble slabs,” -said Penelope, glancing at the row of plain, -unpainted rough boxes set close together on -iron supports.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Page 32]</span></p> - -<p>“They did in the old Morgue, but ever -since we’ve been in this building we put them -in the boxes. They keep better this way,” -explained the keeper, delighted to show the -sights of the Morgue to persons of social -prominence.</p> - -<p>“Do you know the history of all these -dead?” asked Penelope, counting the fifty and -odd coffins which came one after the other.</p> - -<p>“We know somethin’ about most all ’cept -those found in the river, and the river furnishes -more bodies than the whole city do. We -photograph every body and we pack their -clothes away, with a description of ’em, and -keep them six months. The photographs we -always keep, so that years after people may -find their lost here. Would you like to see -them, miss?”</p> - -<p>“You see,” continued the man, lifting a -lid, “we burn a cross on the coffins of the -Catholics, and the Protestants get no mark.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Page 33]</span> -The boxes with the chalk mark on are the -ones that’s to be buried to-morrow. This man -here, miss,” holding the lid up, “was a street-car -driver; want to see him, mam?”</p> - -<p>Penelope’s aunt shook her head negatively.</p> - -<p>“He struck, and could not get work afterwards, -so as he and his family was starvin’, he -made them one less by committing suicide.”</p> - -<p>“It is so hard to die,” Penelope said with -a shudder.</p> - -<p>“Hard? Not a bit, miss; death’s a great -boon to poor people. This ’ere fellow,” holding -another lid while Penelope gazed with dry, -burning eyes down on a weather-beaten face, -which, seared with a million premature -wrinkles, wore a smile of rest, “he was a -tramp, they ’spose. Fell dead on Sixth -Avenue, an’ he had nothin’ on him to identify -him. And this ’ere woman who lies next the -Park mystery girl, though she do smile like -she got somethin’ she wanted—an’ they nearly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Page 34]</span> -all smile, miss, when they’ve handed in their -’counts—she were a devil. She’s done time on -the island, and they’ve had her in Blackwell’s -Insane Asylum, but ’twan’t no good; soon as -she got out she was at her old tricks. Drink, -drink, if she had to steal it, an’ fight an’ -swear! They picked her up on a sidewalk the -last time and hauled her to the station-house, -but when mornin’ come an’ they called her she -didn’t show up; an’ when they dragged her -out, thinkin’ she was still full, they found she’d -got a death sentence and gone on a last trip to -the island where they never come back.”</p> - -<p>A little woman, stumpy, fat and old, in -a shabby black frock and plain black bonnet, -came in with one of the keeper’s assistants. -She held a coarse white cotton handkerchief in -her hand, and her wrinkled, broad face with its -fish-like mouth, thick, upturned nose and -watery blue eyes, looked prepared to show<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Page 35]</span> -evidence of grief when the search among the -labelled rough-boxes was successful.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Lang,” read the man who was -assisting the woman in her search, “from the -Almshouse?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that was her name, true enough. -The Lord rest her soul!” the woman responded -fervently, and the man slid the lid -across the box, and the little old woman, holding -the handkerchief over her stubby nose, -peeped in.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s her; that’s Mrs. Lang. Poor -thing! Ah! she do look desolate,” she -wailed. “She hasn’t a fri’nd in all the world,” -she continued, looking with her weak eyes at -Penelope, who sympathetically stopped by her. -“She was eighty years old, and paralyzed from -her knees down. Poor thing, they took her to -the Almshouse not quite a month ago, and she -looks like she’d had a hard time, sure enough. -Poor Mrs. Lang, she do look desolate.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Page 36]</span></p> - -<p>The man closed the box as if he had given -her time enough to weep, and the wailing -woman went out.</p> - -<p>“What becomes of the bodies of these -poor unfortunates?” asked Penelope, with a -catch in her voice.</p> - -<p>“Most of ’em we give to the medical colleges -as subjects. Yes, men and women, -black and white alike. That nigger woman, -who wouldn’t tell on the man who gave her a -death stab, lying to the other side of the Park -mystery girl, will be taken to a college to-night. -The bodies not sold are all sent up to Hart’s -Island, where they’re buried in a big trench.”</p> - -<p>Penelope’s sympathetic nature quivered with -pity by reason of what she had seen and -heard. She secretly resolved to give the -poor unknown girl a respectable burial, and to -order some flowers to be strewed in the rough-boxes -with the other unfortunates who would -be taken to the Potter’s Field to-morrow.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Page 37]</span></p> - -<p>“Death is a horrible thing,” she remarked -sadly, as they filed through the iron doors -again.</p> - -<p>“It is, miss,” the keeper assented. “I’ve -had charge of this here Morgue for these -twenty years, still if I was to allow myself to -think about death and the mystery of the hereafter, -I’d go crazy.”</p> - -<p>“But the thought of Heaven. It is surely -some consolation,” faltered Penelope.</p> - -<p>“Twenty years’ work in there,” nodding -his head towards the throne where death sits -always; where the only noise is the sound of -the dripping water; “hasn’t left any fairy tales -in my mind about what comes after. We live, -and when we’re dead that’s the last of it. You -can tell children about the ‘good man’ and -‘bad man’ and Heaven and—beggin’ your pardon—Hell, -just the same as you tell them -about Santa Claus, but when they grow up if -they thinks for themselves they know its fairy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Page 38]</span> -tales—all fairy tales. When you’re dead, -you’re dead, and that’s the last of it, take my -word for that.”</p> - -<p>Penelope was not a religious fanatic, but -her few pious beliefs experienced a little resentful -shock at the man’s outspoken words. -She haughtily drew her shoulders up, the kind -expression faded from her face, leaving it less -attractive, and she was conscious of a little -feeling of repulsion for the unbelieving -Morgue keeper. Not that the keeper’s ideas -were so foreign to those that had visited her -own mind. She had many times felt dubious -on such subjects herself, but she had always -felt it to be her duty to kill doubt and trust in -that which was taught her concerning the life -hereafter.</p> - -<p>Penelope joined her aunt and Richard -Treadwell, where they stood under a shade -tree opposite the Morgue waiting her.</p> - -<p>In a few words she told what she wished<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Page 39]</span> -to do. Her kind aunt good naturedly encouraged -her. Perhaps what they had seen -had had a softening effect on her as well.</p> - -<p>Instead of driving home they drove to the -coroner’s, and with the permit which they -obtained without difficulty, to an undertaker’s, -where the final arrangements were made for -the girl’s burial.</p> - -<p>So the beautiful mystery of Central Park -was not sent to a medical college nor to the -Potter’s Field. The next morning Penelope -accompanied Richard in his coupé, and Mrs. -Louise Van Brunt, her aunt, who had in her -carriage two charitable old lady friends, followed -the sombre hearse in its slow journey -across the bridge to Brooklyn. In a quiet -graveyard on the outskirts of the city the dead -girl was lowered into the earth.</p> - -<p>Penelope was greatly wrought up over the -case. All the way to the graveyard she was -moody and silent. Seeing that she was not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Page 40]</span> -inclined to talk, Richard too sat silent and -thoughtful.</p> - -<p>Added to her interest in the dead girl, the -evident suspicions entertained against Richard -had preyed upon Penelope’s mind. While -she never doubted Richard’s innocence in the -affair, still ugly thoughts concerning his careless -nature, and the recalled rumors of affairs -with actresses, of more or less renown, which -the newspapers darkly hinted at, almost set her -wild. Could it be possible that he had known -the girl, or ever seen her before they found -her dead?</p> - -<p>She recalled his excitement when he leaned -down and for the first time saw the face of the -girl as she sat on the bench. The officer had -laid great stress on Dick’s excited manner, and -to Penelope, as she looked back, it seemed -suggestive of more than he had acknowledged.</p> - -<p>“And I love him, I love him,” she cried to -herself during the long ride to the cemetery,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Page 41]</span> -“and with this horrible suspicion hanging over -him I could never marry him; I could never -be happy if I did. I can never be happy if I -don’t. If we only knew something about it; if -only people did not hint things; if I could only -crush the horrible idea that he knows more -than he told!”</p> - -<p>They dismounted, after driving into the -cemetery, and walked silently across the -green; winding in and out among the grassy -and flowered beds and white stones which -marked all that had once been life—hope.</p> - -<p>An unknown but Christian minister stood -waiting them at the open grave. Penelope -glanced at him and at the workmen, who left -the shade of a tree near-by when they saw the -party approaching, and came forward with -faces void of any feeling but that of impudent -curiosity. The minister repeated the burial -service very softly, as the coffin was lowered -into the earth. Penelope’s throat felt bursting,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Page 42]</span> -and her heart beat painfully as Richard, with -strangely solemn face, dropped some flowers -into the grave.</p> - -<p>“Oh death? How horrible, how horrible!” -she thought, “and I, too, some day must die; -must be put in a grave, and then—and then, -what? What have we done to our Creator -that we must die? And that poor girl! This -is the last for all eternity, and there is not one -here she knew to see the last, unless”——but -the morbid thought against Richard refused to -form itself into definite shape.</p> - -<p>The men who filled the grave were the -most light-hearted in the group. They pulled -up a board, and the pile of fresh earth at the -mouth of the grave, which it had upheld, -went rattling in on the coffin and flowers, -almost gladly it seemed to Penelope. She -shivered slightly, but watched as if fascinated, -until the men put on the last shovel-full and -with a spade deftly shaped out the mound.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Page 43]</span> -Richard helped her cover the newly-made -grave with the flowers and green ivy and -smilax they had brought for that purpose.</p> - -<p>They were the last to leave. The others -had walked slowly among the graves and back -to the place where the carriages were waiting. -The hearse, immediately after the coffin was -lowered into the earth, had gone off with rollicking -speed, as if eager for new freight, and -the workmen with their spades and picks had -disappeared.</p> - -<p>“It is ended,” said Dick with a relieved -sigh, as he led Penelope back to her carriage. -“Now let us forget all the misery of these last -few days and be happy.”</p> - -<p>“It is not ended,” exclaimed Penelope, -spiritedly. “It has only begun. I can never -be happy until I know the secret of that girl’s -death.”</p> - -<p>“That is impossible, Penelope,” replied -Dick. “That mystery can never be solved.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Page 44]</span></p> - -<p>“Dick, you have sworn you love me; you -have sworn that you would do anything I -asked if I would marry you. Did you mean -it? Will you swear it again?” cried Penelope, -breathlessly.</p> - -<p>“Mean it, love?” repeated Dick, as he -pressed her hand closely between his arm and -heart. “Upon my life, I swear it.”</p> - -<p>“Then solve the mystery of that girl’s -death, and I will be your wife.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Page 45]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III"> - CHAPTER III.<br> - <small>WHEREIN DICK TREADWELL MEETS WITH ANOTHER ADVENTURE.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>Richard Treadwell was in despair.</p> - -<p>Days had passed since the burial of the -unknown girl, and he was no nearer the solution -of the mystery than he was on the morning -of the discovery. He had not learned one -new thing in the case, and what was infinitely -worse, he had not the least idea how to set -about the task.</p> - -<p>He had taken to wandering restlessly about -the city racked with the wildest despondency.</p> - -<p>“Great Lord, if I only had an idea,” he -thought, desperately, as he walked up Fifth -Avenue. “If I only knew how to begin—if I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Page 46]</span> -only knew where to begin—if I only knew -what to do—if I only—Confound the girl, -anyhow. Why couldn’t she have died somewhere -else, or why didn’t some one else find -her instead of us. Confound it, I’ll be hanged -if I hadn’t enough to worry about before. -Women will take the most infernal whims. -Good Lord! If I wasn’t suspected of being -connected with her death, and if Penelope——But -I’ll be d—— if I can give it the go-by. -It’s solve the mystery or lose Penelope! If I -only knew how to go to work. But, by Jove, -I know I could preach a sermon, or set a -broken leg, or—or cook a dinner easier than -find out why, where, when, how, that yellow-haired -girl died. Curse my luck, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“I have read stories where fellows who -don’t know much start out to solve murder -mysteries, but they always find something -which all the detectives and police authorities -overlooked, which gives them the right clue to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Page 47]</span> -work on. It’s very good for tales, but I find -nothing. The rest are just as smart and -smarter at finding clues than I am. They got -nothing. I got nothing, and what to do -would puzzle a Solomon.”</p> - -<p>Dick stopped and looked up to the -windows of Penelope’s home, where his -wandering feet had brought him. He had not -seen her for two days; so busy on the case, he -wrote her with a groan, and then he had sent -her a bunch of roses, and gone forth to kill -another day in aimless wanderings.</p> - -<p>But here, before her door—how could a -lover resist the temptation to enter and be -happy in the presence of his divinity for a few -moments at least? Richard was not one of -the resisting kind any way, so, after a moment’s -thought, he ran up the broad stone -steps and was ushered into Penelope’s room -off the library—half sitting-room, half study—to -wait for her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Page 48]</span></p> - -<p>Nothing was wanting in Penelope’s special -den, that luxury could suggest, to make it an -exquisite retreat for a young woman with a -taste for the beautiful. There were heavy -portieres, soft, rich carpet, handsome rugs -here and there on the floor and thrown carelessly -over low divans. Chairs and lounges of -different shapes, all made for comfort, little -tables strewed with rich bric-a-brac, unique -spirit lamps, and on easels and hanging around -were paintings and etchings, all of which, as -Penelope said, had a story in them.</p> - -<p>There were some fine statues, among which -were several the work of Penelope. A little -low organ, with a piano lamp near it, stood -open and there were music and books in profusion.</p> - -<p>Near where the daylight came strongest -was a sensible flat-top desk littered with paper, -cards, books and the thousand little trinkets—useless,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Page 49]</span> -if you please—which a refined woman -gathers about to please her eye.</p> - -<p>The most unusual things that would have -impressed a stranger, if by some unknown -chance he could gain admittance here, was a -mixed collection of odd canes and weapons, -and a skull in the centre of the desk, which -was utilized as an inkstand and a penholder.</p> - -<p>“Why, Dick,” said Penelope, as she -tripped lightly in, clad in an artistic gray -carriage gown. “I am glad to see you. I -wish you had been earlier so you could have -enjoyed a drive with aunt and me.”</p> - -<p>“I have been busy,” Richard said bravely, -releasing the hand she had given him on entering.</p> - -<p>They sat down together on a sofa.</p> - -<p>“I have been so occupied that I haven’t -had time for a drive these last few days.”</p> - -<p>“And have you discovered anything yet?” -Penelope asked, eagerly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Page 50]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, not exactly,” hesitatingly, “it will -take time to clear it all up, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me, do you know her name yet, and -where she came from, and was she really -murdered?”</p> - -<p>“Slowly, slowly; would you have me spoil -my luck by telling what I have done?” asked -Richard evasively, his eyes twinkling.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you superstitious boy,” laughed Penelope, -lightly tapping him with her hand, -which he immediately caught and held captive -in his own.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be unkind,” he pleaded, as she -tried to draw her hand away.</p> - -<p>“Not for worlds,” she replied gravely, ceasing -to struggle. “Mr. John Stetson Maxwell -called here last night, and he told me of an experience -he had when he was an editor, that -made me resolve never to speak or act unkindly -if I can help it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Page 51]</span></p> - -<p>“I am deeply obliged to Mr. Maxwell,” -Richard responded lightly.</p> - -<p>“But it was very sad, Dick. I felt unhappy -all the evening over it.”</p> - -<p>“I wish my miseries and wretchedness -could have the same influence on you,” he -broke in with a laugh.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want to hear the story? I had -intended to tell it to you,” she said, half provoked -at his lack of seriousness.</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly. By all means,” he replied, -grave enough now. He never joked -when she assumed that tone and look.</p> - -<p>“When he was an editor,” she began softly, -“he one day received a very bright poem from -a man in Buffalo. He did not know the man -as a writer, still the poem was so meritorious -that he straightway accepted it, and sent a -note to the author enclosing a check for the -work. A few days afterwards, the man’s card -was sent in, with a request for an interview.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Page 52]</span> -Mr. Maxwell was very busy at the time, but he -thought he would give the man a moment, -so he told the boy to bring the visitor up. -When he came in, Mr. Maxwell was surprised -to see a young man of some twenty-five -years. He was not well clad, and was much -abashed when he found himself in the presence -of such a great personage as the editor, -Mr. Maxwell.”</p> - -<p>“Rightly, rightly,” Richard said, good -naturedly, patting her hands encouragingly.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Maxwell recalled afterwards that -the young man looked in wretched spirits,” -Penelope continued, with a slow smile. “At -the time he was too hurried to notice anything, -and then editors are used to seeing -people who are in ill-luck. He brusquely -asked the young man his business, seeing -that he made no effort to tell it, and then -the young man said he had come to the city -and thought he would like to look around<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Page 53]</span> -the office. Mr. Maxwell rang for a boy, and -telling him to show the young man about, -shortly dismissed him. In a few days after -he received a batch of poetry from the -young man, but though of remarkable merit, -Mr. Maxwell thought it too sombre in tone -for his publication, so he enclosed it with -one of the printed slips used for rejected -manuscripts. In a day or so Mr. Maxwell -was shocked to read of the young man’s -death. He had gone out to the park, and -sitting down on a bench, beside the lake, -put a revolver to his ear and so killed himself. -He fell off the bench and into the lake, -and his body was not found until the next -day. He had a letter in his pocket requesting -that his body be cremated. He left -enough money to pay the expenses, and word -for one of his friends that he could do as he -wished with his ashes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Page 54]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, many people do the same thing,” -Richard said, rather unfeelingly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, but this case was particularly sad,” -Penelope asserted. “The young man was all -alone. He hadn’t a relative in the world. He -had fought his way up and had just completed -his law studies, but had not, as yet, succeeded -in obtaining any practice. He was in distress -and Mr. Maxwell thinks, as I do, that he was -so encouraged when his poem was accepted -that he came to the city with the purpose of -asking employment of the editor, but being -greeted so coldly and roughly, I think he -could not tell the object of his visit. On his -return to Buffalo, as a last hope, he wrote some -poetry which was colored with his own despondent -feelings, and when they were all -returned to him it was the last straw—he went -out and shot himself.”</p> - -<p>“But what else could Mr. Maxwell have -done, Penelope,” Richard asked, in a business<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Page 55]</span> -way. “He could not accept work, and pay for -it, that was not suitable for his periodical. I -don’t see how he could reproach himself in -that case.”</p> - -<p>“I do and so does he,” she replied stoutly. -“It wouldn’t have taken any more time to be -kind to that man than it took to be unkind to -him, and when he rejected the poetry, instead -of sending back that brutal printed notice he -could have had his stenographer write a line, -saying the poetry, though meritorious, was not -suitable for his journal. That would, at least, -have eased the disappointment.”</p> - -<p>“But editors haven’t time for such things, -Penelope.”</p> - -<p>“Then let them take time. I tell you it -takes less time to be kind than to be unkind,” -she maintained, nodding her head positively.</p> - -<p>“If they were not short, bores would occupy -all their time,” he persisted.</p> - -<p>“Richard, we will not argue the case,” she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Page 56]</span> -said loftily, as a woman always does when she -feels she is being worsted. “You can’t make -me think anything will excuse a man for being -brutal and unkind.”</p> - -<p>Richard had his own opinion on the subject, -but he was wise enough to refrain from trying -to make Penelope have a similar one.</p> - -<p>“I am going away,” she said, presently, -finding that Dick was not averse to dropping -the discussion. “Auntie has accepted an invitation -to go to Washington for a few days to -visit Mrs. Senator ——, and I am to go along. -I rather dread it, but auntie says they won’t -know as much about the Park mystery there, -and I won’t be worried with reporters.”</p> - -<p>“I hope not,” replied Dick, beginning already -to feel the ghastly emptiness which pervaded -the city for him when Penelope was not -in it. As long as he knew Penelope was in the -city, even if he did not see her, he had a certain -happiness of nearness, but when she was away<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Page 57]</span> -he felt as desolate as Adam must have done -before Eve came.</p> - -<p>“Penelope, girlie,” he said, with a sudden -hope, “could we not be engaged while I am -working on this case? It would not embarrass -you in any way, for we only need tell -your aunt, and it would be such help, such -encouragement, such happiness, sweet to me. -You see it may take months to solve this mystery.” -Poor Richard thought it would take -years. “And if I only knew, darling, that I -had your promise, I could do so much. It -would help me to conquer the world. Don’t -be hard-hearted, dear; don’t be cruel to the -one who loves you more than anything on -earth or in heaven.”</p> - -<p>“No, no, Dick, you must wait,” said Penelope. -“Wait until the mystery is solved, it -shouldn’t take you a great while”—(Richard -sighed)—“and then, and then—”</p> - -<p>“Then?” repeated Dick, questioningly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Page 58]</span> -She looked down with sudden embarrassment; -he put his arms around her slender waist and -drew her close to him. “Then? my love, my -soul!”—</p> - -<p>“Dearest, come here!” called Penelope’s -aunt, in that well-bred voice of hers which -charmed all hearers, but at this particular -moment was very exasperating to Dick. -“Richard, come, I want you to see the man -standing on the other side of the Avenue. I -have been watching him and I think it is quite -probable that he is watching the house. Are -we never to have done with that Park mystery -business?”</p> - -<p>They all looked cautiously through the -curtains, and they all agreed that the man was -watching the house for some purpose.</p> - -<p>“They are after you, Dick,” exclaimed -Penelope. “Oh, I am so afraid this will result -seriously to you.”</p> - -<p>Richard thought so too, only where she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Page 59]</span> -was concerned, though; but he did not give -voice to his fears.</p> - -<p>“My dear child,” laughed the aunt, with -that pleasant ring. “Do not talk such nonsense! -Richard is able to take care of himself, -and especially now that he knows some -one is following him.”</p> - -<p>Shortly afterwards Dick took his leave of -Penelope. She maintained an air of cheerfulness -as he said farewell, but though the mouth -was merry, the sad eyes which met his seemed -to whisper the nearness of tears.</p> - -<p>Catching up his walking-stick, Richard -hastily left the house. He was feeling so blue -that he was almost savage. He thought of -the man who had been watching the house, -and he looked to see if he was still there, half -tempted to hunt the fellow out and pull his -nose.</p> - -<p>Sure enough, the man was there and, as -Richard started down the Avenue, he sneaked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Page 60]</span> -along on the other side, much after the manner -of a disobedient dog who had been told to stay -at home. Dick hailed a passing stage, after -walking a little way, and almost as soon as he -was seated the man also got in. Richard was -not in a mood to bear watching, so he jumped -out when he saw an empty hansom cab, and, -engaging it, told the driver to cross town. -He did not drive far until he had made sure -that he had eluded his would-be follower, and -having no appetite yet for dinner he ordered -the driver to go to Central Park, where he -paid and dismissed him.</p> - -<p>Now that he was alone, he became conscious -of a desire to visit the scene of the -mystery which promised to be so fatal to his -happiness.</p> - -<p>“I’ll go there and think it over,” he mused; -“it may give me some idea how to work it -out.” And on he walked over the course he -and Penelope had taken that direful morning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Page 61]</span></p> - -<p>Night was coming on and the Park was deserted, -except for an occasional workman -taking a hurried cut across the Park home. -How dreary and quiet everything was, and -then he thought about the officer who had -made himself so obnoxious. This led him to -wonder if there were no policemen on duty at -night in the Park. He could not remember -of ever having noticed any the few times he -had visited the Park after nightfall, and there -were none visible now anywhere.</p> - -<p>He stopped to look for a few moments at -the bench where they had found the dead girl, -and then he walked on until he came to a -bench near the reservoir, where he sat down, -and lighting a cigarette gave himself up to unhappy -thoughts on his unhappy position.</p> - -<p>“If only the Fates would throw something -in my way to help me solve that mystery,” he -thought. “Unless the most extraordinary -things occur I shall never be able to tell anything<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Page 62]</span> -about it. Penelope firmly believes it -was a murder, but I can’t see what grounds she -has for it. She thinks it was a deliberate and -well-planned murder, because no one has -claimed the girl, and I sometimes think so myself, -but how to prove it?—that’s the question.”</p> - -<p>And Dick gazed seriously at the space of -light made by the opening for the reservoir, -and on to the dense thickness of trees where -night seemed to be lurking, ready to pounce -down on all late comers.</p> - -<p>As he looked he became aware of something -moving between him and the spot of -light. He was a brave young man, yet his -heart beat a little quicker as he strained his -eyes to see what the moving object was.</p> - -<p>Again it passed in view, and this time it -looked to be something climbing; another -moment and it was on the edge of the reservoir.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Page 63]</span></p> - -<p>Now, plainly outlined between him and the -strip of light sky, he saw the figure of a -woman, a slender girl with flowing hair.</p> - -<p>Quick as a flash came the horrible thought -that she had come there to die—that she intended -to commit suicide.</p> - -<p>With a choking cry of horror he ran -swiftly towards her.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Page 64]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV"> - CHAPTER IV.<br> - <small>STORY OF THE GIRL WHO ATTEMPTED SUICIDE.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>Richard Treadwell sat moodily on a bench, -half supporting the limp form of the girl he -had just saved from death.</p> - -<p>He had caught her just as she threw up -her hands with a pitiful, weak cry, ready to -spring into the reservoir.</p> - -<p>“My dear young woman, don’t take on so,” -he said, vexedly, as the girl leaned against his -shoulder, and sobbed in a heart-broken, distracted -manner. “You are safe now.”</p> - -<p>As if that could be consolation to a -woman who was seeking death which sought -her not.</p> - -<p>“Really, I am sorry, you know, but there’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Page 65]</span> -a good girl, don’t cry,” making a ludicrous -attempt to console her. “I did it before I -thought; if I had known how much you -would have been grieved, I—I assure you, -upon my honor, I wouldn’t have done it. -I—I haven’t much to live for, either, still -when I saw what you intended to do—it -shocked me that you should be so desperate. -Now that it’s all over I wouldn’t cry any more. -I’d laugh, as if it were a joke, you know. I’d -say the fates had saved me for some treat they -had reserved for me. There, that’s better, -don’t cry, you are not hurt—not even wet.”</p> - -<p>The girl broke into a nervous, hysterical -laugh, in which the sobs struggled for mastery. -Dick, much relieved, added a laugh that -sounded rather hollow and mirthless.</p> - -<p>“I c-can’t help it,” said she, haltingly and -endeavoring to stop her sobs. “It seems so -unreal to be still living when I wanted to be -dead. I—I thought it all over, and it seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Page 66]</span> -so comforting to think of it being ended. -Then I couldn’t see, nor think, nor hear, nor -suffer. Oh, why did you stop me?”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know, you see; I didn’t understand -it all. I thought you would regret it—that -you were making a mistake,” he tried to -say cheerfully.</p> - -<p>“What right has anybody—what right had -you to prevent me from ending my life? I -don’t want to live! I am tired of life and of -misery. I want to know what right any one -has to interfere—to make me live a life that -doesn’t concern them and only brings me -misery?” she cried, indignantly.</p> - -<p>“Come now, don’t be so cast down.” At -this burst of anger Richard was himself again. -“Tell me all about it; maybe I can help you. -Have things gone wrong?”</p> - -<p>“Have they ever gone right? Don’t -preach to me. It’s easy to preach to people -who have friends and money and home.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Page 67]</span> -Save your sermons for them. I have nothing! -I am all alone in this great big heartless -world. I haven’t a cent, a home or a friend, -and I’m tired of it all. There is no use in -talking to me. Some people get it all, and -the others get nothing. I am one of the -unlucky ones, and the only thing for me to do -is to die.”</p> - -<p>“Why, my good girl, there is surely something -better for you than death.”</p> - -<p>“There is nothing but trouble and hunger, -and sometimes work. Do you call that better -than death?” she cried despondently.</p> - -<p>What a story her few words contained! -But Richard, happy, careless, fortunate, little -understood their real import.</p> - -<p>He knew the girl was very much depressed -and morbid, so he concluded it might have a -beneficial effect if he could induce her to relate -her woes to him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Page 68]</span></p> - -<p>How mountainous our troubles grow when -we brood over them.</p> - -<p>How they dwindle into little ant-heaps -when we relate them to another.</p> - -<p>Richard talked in his frank, healthy way to -the girl, and it was not long until she told him -the simple, pathetic story of her life.</p> - -<p>Her name was Dido Morgan, she said. -She was a country girl, the only child of a village -doctor, who lived in comfort but died -penniless. Her mother died at her birth. -She had been raised well, and when reduced -to poverty she was too proud to go to work in -her native village, so after her father was -buried she came to New York.</p> - -<p>She soon found that without experience -and references she could not get any desirable -work in New York. When all other things -failed, she, at last, in desperation, applied for -and obtained a position in a paper-box factory. -She was fortunate enough to learn the work<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Page 69]</span> -rapidly, and in a few months was able to earn -as much as the best workers. She rented a -little room on the top floor of a large tenement-house, -where she slept and cooked her -food. Every week she managed to save a -little out of her scant earnings.</p> - -<p>One day a girl who worked at the same -table with Dido, and who had for a long time -been her friend, fainted. The girls crowded -around them as Dido knelt on the floor to -bathe the sick girl’s head and rub her hands.</p> - -<p>“Aha! Away from yer tables durin’ work -hours. I’ll pay yer fer this, I’ll dock every -one of you,” yelled the foreman, who at this -instant entered the workroom.</p> - -<p>The girls, frightened, crept quietly back to -their work, but Dido still continued to bathe -the girl’s head.</p> - -<p>“Here, you daisy on the floor, you’ll disobey -me, hey? I’ll dock yer twice,” brutally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Page 70]</span> -spoke the foreman as he caught a glimpse of -Dido’s head across the table.</p> - -<p>She looked at him with scorn. If glances -could kill, he would have died at her feet. -Still, she managed to say, quietly:</p> - -<p>“Maggie Williams has fainted.”</p> - -<p>“And because a girl faints must all the -shop stop work and disobey rules, eh? I’ll -pay yer for this. I’ll teach yer,” he vowed, as -he quitted the room.</p> - -<p>Dido, unmindful of his brutal threats, -turned her attention to Maggie, who in a short -time opened her eyes and tried to rise.</p> - -<p>“Lie still awhile yet, Maggie,” urged her -self-appointed nurse. “I’ll hold your head on -my knee. Don’t you feel better now?”</p> - -<p>But the girl made no reply. Her small -gray eyes stared unblinkingly, unseeingly, up -at the smoked rafters of the ceiling.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Maggie?” asked the kindly -Dido, smoothing the wet, tangled hair, her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Page 71]</span> -slender fingers expressing the sympathy which -found no utterance in words. “Are you still -ill? Shall I take you home to your mother?”</p> - -<p>The stare in the small gray eyes grew -softer and softer; the corners of the mouth -drew down into a pitiful curve, the under lip -quivering like a tiny leaf in a strong wind; -turning her face down, she sobbed vehemently.</p> - -<p>Drawing the poor thin body into a closer -embrace, Dido sought to comfort the weeping -girl.</p> - -<p>Some of the nearest workers hearing those -low, heavy sobs, started nervously, and their -hands were not as cunning as usual as they -covered the boxes, but they dared not go near -their unhappy companion or speak the sympathy -they felt.</p> - -<p>“I’m awfully sorry, Maggie,” whispered -Dido, “don’t cry so; you’ll feel better by-and-by.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Page 72]</span></p> - -<p>“Mother’s dead,” blurted out Maggie.</p> - -<p>Dido was stunned into silence by this communication. -She could say nothing.</p> - -<p>What could you say to a girl when her -mother is dead?</p> - -<p>What could console a girl at such a time?</p> - -<p>Maggie told Dido that the dead body of -her mother, who, for a year past, had been -confined to her bed with consumption, was -lying alone, uncared for, at home.</p> - -<p>“I loved her so, and I didn’t want her to -die,” she said pitifully. “I was afraid to go -home after work for fear I’d find her dead, and -I was afraid to sleep at night for fear she’d be -dead when I woke up. She lay so still, and -she looked so white and death-like, and I -would lean on my elbow and watch her, fearing -her breath would stop. Every few moments -I prayed, ‘O God, save her!’ ‘O God, -have mercy!’ I—I couldn’t say more, and I -would swallow down the thing that would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Page 73]</span> -choke my throat and wink away the tears that -would come, and watch and watch, until I -couldn’t bear the doubt any longer, then I -would touch her gently with my foot to see if -she was still warm, and that would wake her, -and I would be so sorry.</p> - -<p>“All last night I never took my eyes off -her dear face,” Maggie continued between her -sobs, and Dido was softly crying, too, then.</p> - -<p>“She wouldn’t eat the things I had brought -her, and when I talked to her she didn’t seem -to understand, but said things about father, -who died so long ago, and once or twice she -laughed, but it only made me cry. She didn’t -seem to see me either, and when I spoke -to her it only started her to talk about -something else, so I watched and watched. I -didn’t pray any more. Somehow all the -prayer had left my soul. Just before morning -she got very still, sometimes a rolling sound -would gurgle in her throat, but when I offered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Page 74]</span> -her a drink she couldn’t swallow, and then -I called to her—I couldn’t stand it any longer—‘Mother, -mother, speak to me. I have always -loved you, speak to me once,’ and her dear -lips moved and I bent over her, holding my -breath for fear I would not hear, and she -whispered: ‘Lucille—my—pretty—one,’ and -then her eyes opened and her head fell to one -side, but she didn’t see; she was dead—dead -without one word to me, and I loved her so.”</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Dido Morgan shared her own scant dinner -with Maggie that day, and the unhappy girl -remained at work that she might earn some -money, which would help towards burying her -mother.</p> - -<p>That afternoon foreman Flint came in, -and, nailing a paper to the elevator shaft, told -the girls to read it, saying he’d teach them to -disobey another time, and that next week they -would work harder for their money.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Page 75]</span></p> - -<p>In fear and trembling the girls crowded -timidly about the shaft to read what new -misery the foreman had in store for them. -They instinctively felt it was a reduction, and -the first glance proved their fears were not -unfounded.</p> - -<p>Some of the girls began to cry, and Dido, -the bravest and strongest, spoke excitedly to -them of the injustice done them. Even now -they were working for less than other factories -were paying.</p> - -<p>“There is surely justice for girls as well as -men somewhere in the world, if we only -demand it,” she cried, encouragingly. “Let us -demand our rights. We will all go down, and -I will tell the proprietor that we cannot live -under this new reduction. If he promises us -the old prices, we will return to work. If he -refuses, we will strike.”</p> - -<p>The braver girls heartily joined the scheme, -and the weaker ones naturally fell in, not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Page 76]</span> -knowing what else to do under the circumstances, -and frightened at their own boldness.</p> - -<p>Dido Morgan, taking little Margaret Williams -by the hand, naturally headed the line, -and the girls quietly marched after her, two -by two, down the almost perpendicular stairs.</p> - -<p>Dido stopped before the ground-glass door -on the first floor, on which was inscribed:</p> - -<ul style="list-style-type: none;text-align: center;margin-left: 40%;margin-right: 40%; "> - <li style="border-top: dotted;border-left: dotted;border-right: dotted;font-size: 1.1em; "> - TOLMAN BIKE, - </li> - <li style="border-left: dotted;border-right: dotted;border-bottom: dotted;font-size: .9em; "> - PRIVATE. - </li> -</ul> - -<p>Her heart beat very quickly, but clasping -Maggie’s hand closer, she opened the door -and entered.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Page 77]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V"> - CHAPTER V.<br> - <small>THE FAILURE OF THE STRIKE.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>Tolman Bike was engaged in conversation -with foreman Flint when Dido opened the -door and entered.</p> - -<p>He lifted his head, and never noticing -Dido, fixed a look of absolute horror on Maggie -Williams’s tear-stained and swollen face, as -he rose pale and trembling and gasped in a -husky tone:</p> - -<p>“Why do you come to me?”</p> - -<p>Margaret gazed stupidly at him with her -small, grey eyes, offering no reply.</p> - -<p>Dido, greatly astonished at Mr. Bike’s -manner, stammered out that she represented -the girls he employed, who had decided to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Page 78]</span> -appeal to him not to enforce the proposed -reduction, as they were already working for -less than other factories were paying.</p> - -<p>When she began to speak a strange look -of relief passed over his face and with a peculiar, -nervous laugh, he sat down again.</p> - -<p>“Get out of this,” said he roughly. “If -you don’t like my prices leave them for those -who do.”</p> - -<p>Turning his back to the girls he coolly -began arranging the papers on his desk.</p> - -<p>When Dido began to plead for justice he -calmly ordered foreman Flint to “remove -these young persons.”</p> - -<p>“If you do dare touch me, I’ll kill you!” -exclaimed Dido in a rage, as Flint made a -movement to obey orders.</p> - -<p>He cowered, stepped back and stammered -an excuse to his employer. He felt the scorch in -Dido’s blazing midnight eyes and he respected -her warning and his own person.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Page 79]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Bike moved quietly to the door and -holding it open, said:</p> - -<p>“My beauty, you be careful, or that fine -spirit of yours will get you into trouble some -of these days.”</p> - -<p>Dido gave him a scornful glance as she and -Maggie walked out, and the door was closed -behind them.</p> - -<p>She related her failure to the waiting girls, -and they all went home after promising to be -there Monday morning to prevent others taking -their places. They seemed to feel the -consequence of their own act less than Dido -and rather welcomed an extra holiday.</p> - -<p>That evening Dido pawned all her furniture -and extra clothes, and the money she -received for them, added to her savings, went -towards saving the body of Mrs. Williams -from the Potter’s Field. There was not quite -enough to pay the undertaker, so Dido was -forced to borrow the remainder from Blind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Page 80]</span> -Gilbert, the beggar, who occupied the room in -the rear of that occupied by the Williamses.</p> - -<p>Monday morning the girls all gathered -around the entrance to the factory and urged -the new girls, who came in answer to an advertisement, -not to apply for work and thereby -injure their chances of making the strike successful.</p> - -<p>Only the foreigners stubbornly refused the -girls’ request, and they applied for and received -the work which the others had abandoned. -Tuesday more foreigners were given work, -and the weaker strikers, getting frightened at -this, quitted their companions and returned to -the factory.</p> - -<p>This so enraged the other strikers that -they waited for the deserters in the evening, -when they were going home from work. They -first tried to persuade their weaker companions -to reconsider their decision and somehow the -argument ended in a fight.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Page 81]</span></p> - -<p>Dido Morgan, who was stationed as a -picket further down the street, came rushing -up to the struggling, pulling, crying girls, -hoping to pacify them.</p> - -<p>Almost instantly foreman Flint arrived, accompanied -by an officer. Pointing out Dido, -with a diabolical grin he told the officer to -arrest her. The now frightened girls fell back -while the officer dragged Dido away, despite -her protests.</p> - -<p>That night she spent in the station-house, -and in the morning she was taken to the -Essex Market Court, where the Judge, listening -to the policeman’s highly imaginative -story, asked her what she had to say, and -though she endeavored to tell the truth, -hustled her off with “ten days or ten dollars.”</p> - -<p>Being penniless she was sent to the Island, -where she spent the most miserable ten days -of her life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Page 82]</span></p> - -<p>But her final release brought her no happiness -or joy. She knew that it was useless -to return to her bare rooms, because of the -rent being overdue, and she had no friend but -Margaret Williams, who had as much as she -could manage to provide for herself.</p> - -<p>Disheartened, penniless and hungry, she -spent the day wandering around from one -place to another, begging for any kind of -work. At every place they complained of -having more workers than they needed.</p> - -<p>Night came on and she thought of the -Christian homes, ostensibly asylums for such -unfortunate beings as herself. She applied to -several along Second Avenue and Bleecker -Street, but she found no refuge in any. They -were either filled, or because she had no professed -religion and had long since quit attending -church, they barricaded their Christian (?) -quarters against her.</p> - -<p>The last and only place, in which they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Page 83]</span> -made no inquiries about religion, they -charged twenty cents for a bed, and so the -weary, hungry girl was forced again to go out -into the darkness.</p> - -<p>She noticed an open door, leading to a dispensary, -on Fourth Avenue, and hiding herself -in a dark corner of the hallway there, she -spent the night.</p> - -<p>In the morning she got a glass of milk and -a cup of broth in the diet kitchen, and then -she resumed her search for work.</p> - -<p>It was useless. Tired out and discouraged -she wandered on and on, until she came to -the Park. The unhappy girl sought the enticing -shade, where she watched the gay, -merry people who passed before her. The -more she saw, the more despondent she became. -They looked so blest, so happy.</p> - -<p>Life gave them everything and gave her -nothing.</p> - -<p>It began to grow dark, and every one hurried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Page 84]</span> -from the Park. She had no place to go, -no one to care for her, nothing to live for, and -she walked further into the Park, helpless, -hopeless.</p> - -<p>How grand it would be to rest for evermore!</p> - -<p>The thought came and charmed her. -How sweet, how blessed a long, easy, senseless -slumber would be with no pain, no unhappiness, -no hunger!</p> - -<p>She noticed the reservoir, she climbed up -and looked in. Like a bed of velvet the dark -waters lay quietly before her, and the rough -darkness of the surrounding country seemed -to warn her to partake of what was within her -reach.</p> - -<p>A great wave of peace welled up in her -heart, her weariness disappeared in an exquisite -languor, which enwrapped her body and -mind.</p> - -<p>“‘Rest, everlasting rest,’ rang soothingly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Page 85]</span> -in my ears,” said Dido, in conclusion, “and -with a little cry of joy I went to plunge -in”——</p> - -<p>“And I saved you from a very rash deed,” -broke in Dick. “My poor girl, don’t you -know there are hundreds of noble-hearted -people in New York who are always ready to -help the unfortunate? There is charity and -Christianity in some places.”</p> - -<p>“But they are hard to find,” said the girl, -“and they do not exist in so-called benevolent -homes.”</p> - -<p>“Now, I tell you what we will do,” said -Dick, cordially, lighting a match and looking -at his watch. “We will first try to find something -to eat, for I am beastly hungry, and then -I will take you to your friend, Maggie Williams, -if you will kindly show the way, and we -will see what can be done for a young woman -who gives up so easily.”</p> - -<p>To be frank, Richard doubted the girl’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Page 86]</span> -story. Yet he did not want to act hastily in -the matter. If the girl had suffered all she -said, he felt that not only would he gladly help -her, but Penelope would be delighted to make -life brighter for the poor victim of fate. So -he decided to take her to the home of Margaret -Williams, if such a person really existed, -and learn from others the true story, if what -she had told him should prove to be false.</p> - -<p>In this Richard showed himself very wise -for a young man. If it was really a case of -charity no one would be kinder or more liberal, -but he doubted.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Page 87]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI"> - CHAPTER VI.<br> - <small>IS THE GIRL HONEST?</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>In a small oyster-house near the Park they -found something to eat, and Dick also found -that he had saved the life of a remarkably -pretty girl.</p> - -<p>At any other time Dick Treadwell would -have scorned to eat dinner—and such a dinner—at -such a place. This night he not only ate, -but enjoyed it. He never noticed the uninviting -appearance of the big, fat German waiter -who had, when they first came in, leaned with -both hands on the table and said briefly, and -with a rising accent, “Beer?”</p> - -<p>He slapped his dirty towel over the sticky<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Page 88]</span> -circular spots on the table as Richard ordered -dinner from a card that looked as if it had -never served any other purpose than that of -fly-paper.</p> - -<p>The waiter went out, after receiving the -order, carefully closing the door after him. -The room was evidently meant for small -parties, for the only thing in it was the table -and four chairs.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think the room is too warm?” -Dick asked, and hardly waiting for his guest’s -reply, he got up and opened wide the door.</p> - -<p>The waiter spread a cotton napkin over the -table before Dick and Dido Morgan, and set -some pickles and crackers, and pepper and salt, -and two little bits of butter, the size and -shape of a half dollar, on the table; then he -brought the clams.</p> - -<p>This done he went out again, very carefully -closing the door after him. Richard -called to him, but he did not answer, so Dick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Page 89]</span> -got up and opened the door himself. Dido -Morgan looked at him with an innocent, questioning -smile. She had no idea that Dick -could possibly have any other reason for opening -the door, than that it made the room -cooler. When the waiter came in the next -time he closed the door. Richard’s face -flushed angrily as he said sternly:</p> - -<p>“I wish that door open. You will please -leave it so.”</p> - -<p>The waiter gave an impudent, almost familiar -grin, but the door was open during the rest -of the dinner.</p> - -<p>As Dido Morgan sat opposite Dick eating -daintily but appreciatively, the color came into -her dark, creamy cheeks, and her brown eyes -sparkled like the reflection of the sun in a -still, dark pool. Her loose, damp hair, hanging -in little rings about her broad brow and -white throat, was very appealing to the artistic -sense.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Page 90]</span></p> - -<p>And her look—it was so frank, so sincere, -so trusting, and her eyes had such a way of -looking startled, that Dick felt a warmer thrill -of interest invade his soul than he ever -thought possible for any other girl than Penelope.</p> - -<p>Before dinner was finished Richard had -called her “Miss Dido,” and “Dido,” and she -had not even thought of resenting it.</p> - -<p>There are a great many false ideas that are -forgotten in such moments as these.</p> - -<p>The one had seen the other face death, -and a human feeling had for the time swept -all false pretenses and hollow etiquette away.</p> - -<p>They drove down to Mulberry Street in a -coupé, and if such a thing was unusual to the -young girl whom Richard rescued, it was well -hidden under a manner of ease that suggested -familiarity.</p> - -<p>“There is where Maggie Williams lived,” -she said, as they turned down Mulberry Street.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Page 91]</span> -Richard leaned forward, but in the semi-light -got little idea of the appearance of the place.</p> - -<p>“She may have gone from there by this -time,” Dido continued, showing a slight hesitation -that threatened to shake Dick’s not -over-strong confidence in her. “She lived -there when I went away, but so many things -happen in such short time among the poor.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t stop the driver,” she said, quickly, -as Dick pounded on the glass with the head of -his walking-stick. “Drive on to the corner. -It is such an unusual sight to see a carriage -stop before these houses, that it would likely -attract a crowd, and you don’t want to do -that.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” asked Dick, curiously. When he -could not see her face he liked her less.</p> - -<p>“Well, you look so unlike the people who -live in this neighborhood, and if you attract -notice, you might find it a very uncomfortable -place for an elegant young man to be in at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Page 92]</span> -almost midnight,” Dido Morgan said, with a -light laugh; then, taking matters into her own -hands, she opened the door of the coupé, and -called the driver to stop.</p> - -<p>Richard had no sooner dismissed the driver -than he regretted it. He again felt the old -mistrust of the strange girl, and recollections -of tales he had read of female trappers and -the original snares they lay for their victims -returned forcibly to his mind.</p> - -<p>He felt he was a fool to come here at -night, but he was ashamed to go back now. -The night was warm and the heat had driven -many of the people out of the tenements in -search of a breath of air, and the dark groups -of silent men and women who filled the door-steps -and basement entrances and curbstones, -and the ill-favored people who passed them -offered Dick little hope for succor, if indeed -he was the victim of a plot.</p> - -<p>There were no policemen to be seen anywhere,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Page 93]</span> -although Dick knew the police headquarters -were not far distant.</p> - -<p>Quietly he walked beside the girl, who, too, -had grown silent. He scorned to confess his -fears, and he felt a determination to meet -what there might be waiting for him, even if it -be death, before he would weaken and retreat.</p> - -<p>The girl entered the doorway of a dark, -dilapidated house, the only doorway which -had no lounger, a fact in itself suspicious to -Dick. He, with many misgivings and a -decided palpitation of the heart, stumbled on -the step as he started to follow.</p> - -<p>Had he done right and was he safe in -trusting and following this clever girl?</p> - -<p>Before he had time to decide she caught -his hand and led him into the dark hall.</p> - -<p>A little weak thought, that doubtless holding -his hand was part of the plan to give him -less chance for self-defense, flashed through -his mind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Page 94]</span></p> - -<p>Gropingly he put forth his other hand, and -a thrill of horror shot through him like an -electric shock as it came in contact with a -man’s coat and a warm, yielding body.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Page 95]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII"> - CHAPTER VII.<br> - <small>MR. MARTIN SHANKS: GUARDIAN.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Did you run against something?” asked -Dido, as she felt Richard start.</p> - -<p>“It’s only me,” said a deep bass voice, -which had such an honest and harmless ring, -that Richard’s fear and nervousness dropped -from him like a cloak.</p> - -<p>“It’s all right,” Dido responded cheerfully, -as she stopped and knocked on a door.</p> - -<p>Dick knew it was a door from the sound, -but he was unable to distinguish door from -wall in the darkness.</p> - -<p>It was opened by some one inside. Dick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Page 96]</span> -saw the outlines of a girlish figure between -himself and the light, and heard a surprised -exclamation: “Why, Dido!”</p> - -<p>They stepped in, and the girl closed the -door and hastened to set chairs for her visitors.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Treadwell, this is Margaret Williams,” -said Dido; then turning to Maggie she -added, simply, “Mr. Treadwell has been kind -to me.”</p> - -<p>“We were frightened about you,” Maggie -said, her eyes beaming warmly on Dido. “I -heard you got in trouble ’round at the shop. -I went out to look you up, but I couldn’t find -out anything about you either at the station-house -or at your house.”</p> - -<p>“I s’pose you know,” she added, “that the -girls went in? Yes, the strike is off. They -wouldn’t take me back, so I’m doing what I -can for Blind Gilbert, and he pays rent and -buys what we eat.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Page 97]</span></p> - -<p>Dido, in a few simple words, frankly told -Maggie all that had befallen her since her -arrest. She did not omit her rash attempt to -commit suicide, and Richard’s timely intervention.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Richard had taken a glance -about the little bare room.</p> - -<p>A plain, single-board table, covered with a -bit of badly worn oilcloth, had been pulled out -into the room, and they now sat around it. -A little low oil lamp, with a broken chimney—which -had been patched with a scrap of -paper—was the only light in the room. Dick -carefully slipped a paper bill under the newspaper -which lay on the table where Margaret -had flung it when she came to open the door -for them.</p> - -<p>A small stove stood close to the wall, and -on it was a tin coffee-pot and an iron tea-kettle -with a broken spout.</p> - -<p>Above the stove was a little shelf, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Page 98]</span> -held some tallow candles in a jar, and some -upturned flat-irons.</p> - -<p>The bed looked very unsafe and uncomfortable. -It was covered with a gayly colored -calico patchwork quilt. The patchwork was -made in some set pattern, which was unlike -anything Richard had ever seen or dreamed -of.</p> - -<p>Several pieces of as many carpets lay on -the floor, and a much worn blanket was hung -on two nails over the window, to take the place -of a shade or curtain.</p> - -<p>Dick’s heart ached at the evident signs of -poverty, and a warm instinct of protection -possessed him.</p> - -<p>“I hope you will allow me to be of some -assistance to you,” he said, when the girls, -having finished their confessions, became -silent. “I think I can, in a few days, assure -Miss Dido of a better position than the one -she has lost.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Page 99]</span></p> - -<p>As he spoke, there came a timid knock on -the door, and Maggie sprang to open it.</p> - -<p>“I jest thought I’d drop in tew see how -you wuz gettin’ along, Maggie,” said from -the darkness the same deep bass voice that -had restored Richard’s courage in the hallway.</p> - -<p>It was followed by a tall, lank man, who -awkwardly held a black, soft felt hat in his -big red hands. His rough clothes seemed to -hang on him, and he held one shoulder higher -than the other in an apologetic manner, as if -to assure the world that his towering above -the average height of people was neither his -fault nor desire. His bushy and unattractive -dust-colored hair seemed determined to -maintain the stiffness which its owner lacked. -His red mustache and chin-whiskers were -resolved to out-bristle his hair. His shaggy -eyebrows overhung modest blue eyes that -looked as if they fain would draw beneath<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Page 100]</span> -those brows as a turtle draws its head under -its shell.</p> - -<p>He bashfully greeted Dido, and she -introduced him to Richard as “Mr. Martin -Shanks, who boards with some friends upstairs.” -He held out his big hand to Dick, -saying:</p> - -<p>“Glad to make yer acquaintance, sir!” all -the while blushing vividly.</p> - -<p>“We ran against you in the hall, I think,” -ventured Dido.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I was standin’ there when you came,” -he answered, slowly, shooting a glance from -under his brows at Maggie.</p> - -<p>Maggie looked down, and Dido was surprised -to see her blush. She would have -been more surprised if Maggie had told her -that this great, big, hulking man had stood -guard at her door every night since her mother -died.</p> - -<p>“I should jedge you don’t belong to this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Page 101]</span> -yer neighborhood,” he remarked to Richard, -shooting forth a jealous look.</p> - -<p>“You are correct,” replied Richard, pleasantly.</p> - -<p>“What might yer business be?” he demanded -further, nervously turning his hat.</p> - -<p>“Down here, or my professional employment?” -asked Richard, waking up.</p> - -<p>“What do ye do fer a livin?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I see. I’m a lawyer,” Dick replied, -glibly.</p> - -<p>“A lawyer, eh? An’ I take it as yer not a -married man, else ye wouldn’t be payin’ attentions -to this ’ere orphan girl.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand,” Maggie interrupted, -startled. “Dido was in trouble and -Mr. Treadwell found her and brought her -here.”</p> - -<p>“Martin should mind his own business,” -exclaimed Dido, indignantly. “If this was my -house I would show him the door.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Page 102]</span></p> - -<p>“Not on my account,” interposed Dick, -warmly. “If Mr. Shanks is a friend of the -family he has a right to know the reason of a -stranger being here.”</p> - -<p>“These young girls ’ere, sir,” explained -frightened Martin Shanks, “have no parints -to take care on them, an’ I says to meself, -when Mis’ Williams wuz a lyin’ dead here, -that I’d see no harm come aninst them while -I wuz about.”</p> - -<p>“That was very good of you, Mr. Shanks,” -cordially replied Dick, and then, bidding the -girls good night, he left. Martin Shanks, -wishing to see the stranger well out of the -neighborhood before he quit his post of -guardianship for the remainder of the night, -accompanied Dick as far as Broadway, and -Dick was not sorry to have his escort.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Page 103]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII"> - CHAPTER VIII.<br> - <small>THE MISSING STENOGRAPHER.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>When next Richard went to Mulberry -Street, it was to notify Dido Morgan of a -position he had secured for her with a prominent -photographer. Her duties would be -light and not unpleasant, as she was merely -required to take charge of the reception room.</p> - -<p>Dido was delighted; nothing could have -suited her better. Before her father died, she -had devoted a great deal of time and study to -sketching, and now this work seemed as -though it might lead her nearer to her old -life.</p> - -<p>While Richard was talking to the girls he -heard a scraping noise in the hall, and presently<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Page 104]</span> -the door opened, and an old man, with -such a decided roundness of the shoulders that -it was almost a hump, felt with his cane the -way before him and apparently finding everything -all right entered and closed the door. -A little, short-tailed, spotted dog, with a world -of affection bound up in his black-and-white -hide, slid in beside the man’s uncertain legs, -and now stood wiggling his body with a -wiggle that bespoke affection for the man.</p> - -<p>“Maggie, is you ready for me and Fritz?” -he asked, timidly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Gilbert,” she replied, gently, and she -went to him and guided his uncertain feet to a -chair which stood before the table.</p> - -<p>“The young gentleman who was so good -to Dido is here,” she explained, and he lifted -his head quickly as if he would like to see. -At this, Richard very thoughtfully came forward -and taking the old man’s shaking hand, -gave it a warm pressure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Page 105]</span></p> - -<p>“I’m glad to know you, sir,” Blind Gilbert -said, deferentially. “May be you know me, -sir. It’s sixteen years this coming August -since I’ve had a stand on Broadway. I don’t -do much business, but I’m thankful for all I -have. The Lord, in all this mercy, seen fit to -afflict me, but he never let old Gilbert starve.”</p> - -<p>“How did you lose your sight?” Richard -asked awkwardly, not wishing to express any -opinion concerning the mercy of making a -man blind.</p> - -<p>“Well, it came very sudden like. I had a -little shop in this very room, sir, and I lived -in the one back, where I’ve lived ever since I -lost my shop. I done a good business, as I -had done ever since me and me old woman -came out from Ireland, these forty years ago. -Me old woman fell sick and after running up a -long doctor bill, she died, the Lord bless her -soul, for if we had our fights, she was a good woman -to me. One mornin’ after she had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Page 106]</span> -put in her grave, I started out to go across -Mulberry Street. The sun was shinin’ bright -when I started out the door and it was as fine -a mornin’ as I ever seen. When I got to the -middle of the street, everything got as dark as -night and I yelled for help. They took me to -the doctor’s but he said I had gone blind and -nothing could help me. Then they took me -to a hospital, and after a while I could see -some light with one eye, but then it left and -they said nothing could be done. I couldn’t -stay shut up, so I came back. Me little shop -was gone and everything I owned, so I got a -license and went on to Broadway and begged -until I got enough to rent the back room -again and there I’ve lived ever since.”</p> - -<p>“Does what you get pay all your expenses?” -Richard asked.</p> - -<p>“The city gives me forty dollars a year, and -I manage to make enough with that to keep me.”</p> - -<p>Maggie took a newspaper off the table<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Page 107]</span> -which disclosed beneath it the table spread for -a simple meal. She took a bit of fried steak -and some fried potatoes from the oven and set -them before Gilbert.</p> - -<p>Richard felt somewhat embarrassed and -started to leave, but they all urged him so -warmly to stay that he sat down again. When -Maggie poured out Gilbert’s coffee, she offered -a cup of it to Dick. He, fearing to hurt her -feelings by refusing to partake of what she -had made, accepted the great thick cup. It -was the worst dose Dick ever took. He tried -to maintain an air of enjoyment, but he found -it impossible to prevent his face drawing very -stiff and grave when he tried to swallow the -horrible stuff.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you have some more coffee? -This is warmer,” Maggie asked, as Dick at -last set the cup down.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” he answered, thickly, but most -decidedly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Page 108]</span></p> - -<p>Maggie gave him a startled, inquiring look, -and poor Richard felt himself blush as he -endeavored to swallow the mouthful of coffee-grains -he got with the last of the coffee. -Finding this unpleasant as well as impracticable, -he disposed of them as best he could in his -handkerchief and hastened to reassure her.</p> - -<p>“I never, never drink coffee until after -dinner,” he said, earnestly, “and only broke -my usual rule on this occasion because you -made it.”</p> - -<p>He gave her a smile with this pretty -speech; while it was not exactly what his -pleased smiles usually were, it made Maggie -blush with pleasure.</p> - -<p>The spotted dog, having swallowed his -food after the manner of people at railway -stations, came rubbing and sniffling around -Richard’s knee in a very friendly spirit.</p> - -<p>“Fine dog, sir, Fritz is,” Blind Gilbert -said, hearing the dog’s sounds. “Gettin’ old,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Page 109]</span> -though, like the old man. Now, Mag’, child,—she’s -me ’dopted daughter, sir, I never had -no children of me own—if you’re ready, me -girl, we’ll start for me place of business.”</p> - -<p>Maggie put on her hat and fastened a -chain to Fritz’s collar, and then giving Richard -a little smile, took blind Gilbert by the hand -and led him out.</p> - -<p>“Maggie is very wretched about her sister -Lucille,” said Dido, confidentially, when left -alone with Dick. “She went away two weeks -before Mrs. Williams died, and she hasn’t -come back yet.”</p> - -<p>“Did she say that she would be away for -any time?” Richard asked, with a show of -interest that he was far from feeling. He was -rather weary of troublesome girls just then.</p> - -<p>“No, that’s it,” eagerly. “They hadn’t -any idea that she wasn’t coming home.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed! Where had she gone?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Page 110]</span></p> - -<p>“They don’t even know that. She said -she was going out to do some extra work.”</p> - -<p>“What kind of work?”</p> - -<p>“She was a typewriter and a stenographer,” -Dido explained, “and in the evenings she -used to get extra work. This night she went -to work, but she did not come back, and -Maggie worries over it.”</p> - -<p>“I should think she would,” Richard replied -kindly. “Why didn’t Maggie go to her -sister’s employer? Probably he could throw -some light on the subject.”</p> - -<p>“She did go to him, and he said Lucille -had asked for two weeks’ vacation, which he -had given her, and Maggie didn’t want to tell -him that Lucille had gone out to do some extra -work, for fear he wouldn’t like it. He paid -her by the week, and didn’t know she did -outside work. Maggie thought then she -would be back, but now it is five weeks and -she hasn’t come back yet.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Page 111]</span></p> - -<p>“And poor mother loved her so,” added -Maggie huskily, as she re-entered the room, -having left Blind Gilbert on his corner.</p> - -<p>“Do you think we could do anything towards -finding her?” Dido asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>“I hardly see what you could do, unless -you notify the police and advertise for her,” -Dick replied, listlessly. He had enough girls -on his mind now, with Penelope, the Park -Mystery girl and Dido, and he did not feel -anxious to add another to his already too -large list. He felt satisfied to look after -Penelope, and was desirous of assuming sole -charge of her, but did not want any more.</p> - -<p>“I should say that she had received a -better position somewhere, and that you will -hear from her before long,” Dick added, encouragingly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she would surely send for her -clothes if she had,” Dido said, earnestly. -“If you will tell us what to do—what is the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Page 112]</span> -best thing—we will try to do it; Maggie is so -anxious to find her.”</p> - -<p>“I can easily do for you all that can be -done,” Dick replied. “If you can give me a -description of her, I will send it to Police -Headquarters and have them search for her.”</p> - -<p>“She was slender, and had a lovely white -complexion and blue eyes, and black hair,” -Dido began, Richard writing it in a little notebook.</p> - -<p>“Was she tall or short?” he asked, pausing -for a reply.</p> - -<p>“About my height—don’t you think so, -Maggie? I’m five feet four and one-half -inches.”</p> - -<p>“How was she dressed?”</p> - -<p>“She had on her black alpaca dress, and -wore a round black turban, with a bunch of -green grass on the back of it,” said Dido.</p> - -<p>“And she carried her light jacket along to -wear home, ’cause mother thought it would be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Page 113]</span> -cold,” Maggie said, helping Dido along. -“Lucille always had nicer dresses than I -had. She was twenty-one, though she didn’t -look it. I am older than she is.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Page 114]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX"> - CHAPTER IX.<br> - <small>THE STRANGER AT THE BAR.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>Richard Treadwell sent a description of -Maggie Williams’ missing sister to the police -authorities, and also inserted a cautious but -alluring personal in all the leading newspapers; -still the missing Lucille did not -return, and nothing was heard of her.</p> - -<p>“My God, what it is to be poor!” Richard -mused one morning as he walked up Broadway. -“Why, the glimpses I get during my -visits to Mulberry Street, of the trials and -privations the poor endure, makes me heartsick. -There’s Gilbert, blind and helpless, -forced to spend his time on a Broadway corner -begging his living. Sitting there waiting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Page 115]</span> -for people to give him pennies, and yet he -doesn’t want to die. Why, he clings to life as -if he had the wealth of Monte Cristo. And -all those untidy, unhappy women down there, -with peevish, crying, dirty children, live on in -their garrets and cellars, for what?</p> - -<p>“They have no pleasures, no happiness, -no comfort, and they are raising families to -live out the same miserable existence. Ugh!</p> - -<p>“And there are Maggie and Dido! They -live in that miserable, God-forsaken room, and -haven’t a decent-looking dress to their backs. -There are no drives, no jewels, no pretty -dresses, no fond petting for them, yet, bless -their brave hearts, they are more cheerful than -most girls I know who live on the Avenue. -Dido is happy now that she has work, and -Maggie would be happy if it wasn’t for her -absent sister. By Jove, I respect those girls. -I admire their spirit, and if I don’t find -Maggie’s sister it won’t be my fault. It’s just<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Page 116]</span> -as easy to solve the mystery of two girls, as it -is to solve the mystery of one,” he thought, -with grim humor, as he had made no progress -in either case.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t the least doubt that Maggie’s -sister, tiring of the poverty at home, found -snugger quarters and is sticking to them. If I -only knew what she looked like I would likely -run across her in some of my rounds. New -York is a very little place to those that go -about. I’ll wager if I knew that girl, and she -was running around, I’d meet her inside of -three evenings. If I could only identify -her——By Jove! I have it. I’ll get Dido, -who knows the girl, and I’ll take her to the -places where we are likely to meet the missing -sister. Whew! Why didn’t I think of it -before? If I don’t know all about her inside -of a week I’ll think—well, I’ll find the little -scamp, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>Delighted with his new scheme, Richard<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Page 117]</span> -cut across Twenty-fourth Street and went into -the Hoffman House bar-room. Without stopping -he went through to the office, where he -wrote and sent a note to Dido, asking her to -take dinner with him that evening. Then he -walked back to the bar to congratulate himself—after -the manner of his sex—for taking -the road, whose way, he thought, led to -success.</p> - -<p>Richard stood before the famous bar and -marvelled how daylight seemed to rob the -room of half its fascination. The men of the -world, the men of fashion, the outlandish -youth of dudedom, the be-diamonded actor -and bejewelled men whose modes of life -would ill bear investigation, had all fled with -the night.</p> - -<p>The Flemish tapestry looked dull, and the -exquisite Eve was a less glaring white, and -seemed to have lost expression in a newfound -modesty, and the nymphs and satyr<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Page 118]</span> -looked dull and tired. How different from -the hours when the gas brought beautiful colors -into the cut-glass pendants on the chandeliers, -and everything seemed awake and alive -where now they slept. The bartenders -looked dull and uninterested, and a man who -stood alone at the bar drank as if he had nothing -else to do.</p> - -<p>He was a low, heavy-set man, dressed -handsomely. He wore a black beard and -mustache, and his small, black, bright eyes -critically surveyed, across his high nose, the -handsome and genial Richard. He set down -an empty whiskey glass from which he had -just been drinking, and, after taking a swallow -of ice water, he remarked, in a voice perfectly -void of emotion:</p> - -<p>“I beg your pardon, but do you know that -you are being ‘shadowed’?”</p> - -<p>“I knew they were after me some days -ago, but I thought they had given me up,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Page 119]</span> -Dick said, laughingly. “What do you know -about it?”</p> - -<p>“I saw a man dog after you to the office -when you first went through, and when you -returned he came after you and went on out -the side door. He’ll be on the watch for you -when you go out,” he continued, in that even, -passionless voice.</p> - -<p>“You are very kind,” Dick said, gratefully, -“to warn me of the fellow.”</p> - -<p>“The game was too easy, if you didn’t -know,” he said, with a malicious grin. “I only -wanted to give the fellow some work—make -him earn his money. You can both work at -the same game now.”</p> - -<p>“You are very kind,” Dick repeated, -mechanically. He had a faint impression that -the stranger had warned him of his followers -more with malicious motives than with any -feeling of good will, still the next moment he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Page 120]</span> -felt ashamed of harboring such a thought -against the man.</p> - -<p>“If you care to know the fellow, I’ll walk -out with you and point him out,” the man -offered gruffly, still with a gleam in his eyes -which showed that the expected discomfort of -the two men afforded him if not exactly pleasure, -at least, amusement.</p> - -<p>“Thank you. Won’t you join me first?” -asked Dick. “What will you have? Whiskey”—to -the bartender. “I am very much -obliged for your kindness, and if I can ever be -of any service to you, command me,” and the -impulsive Dick took his card case from his -pocket and handed one of the rectangular bits -of pasteboard to the man just as they both -lifted their glasses.</p> - -<p>The stranger glanced at the name and -turned ghastly pale. His glass fell from his -nerveless fingers to the floor with a crash, and -he leaned heavily against the mahogany bar.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Page 121]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X"> - CHAPTER X.<br> - <small>TOLMAN BIKE.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>One evening Mr. Richard Treadwell found -the following letter awaiting him when he -went to his rooms to dress for dinner.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p class="right"> -“Washington, <i>June Third</i>, 18—. -</p> -<p> -“Dear Dick: -</p> - -<p>“I am glad to say our prolonged visit -has drawn to a close, and to-morrow we return -to dear old New York and—Dick. I wonder -how much we have been missed. You cannot -imagine how anxious I am to see you. I feel -sure that you are ready to tell me all about -the poor dead girl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Page 122]</span></p> - -<p>“You can’t imagine how I feel about her. -Auntie says I am morbid and depressed. -When I go to bed at night and close my eyes -I can see her again lying before us, her masses -of golden hair, her pretty little hands, her -delicate clothes, and I can’t go to sleep for -wondering whose darling she was and how she -came to stray so far away from home and that -they never found her.</p> - -<p>“I firmly believe she eloped with some -rascal who tired of her at last and murdered -her to free himself.</p> - -<p>“When will you solve this unhappy -mystery?</p> - -<p>“Your short, unsatisfactory letters, I have -felt all along, were a mere blind to keep me -from suspecting the surprising story you have -in reserve for me.</p> - -<p>“If you have been wasting your time in -being devoted to some of the many girls who -used to attract your attention, and neglecting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Page 123]</span> -the Park mystery case, I feel that I can never -forgive you.</p> - -<p>“I forgot to tell you in my last that we -met Clara Chamberlain and her mother here. -They came over for a day to arrange with -their lawyers something about Clara’s Washington -property. Clara confessed to me that -the report which was published awhile ago -concerning her engagement was true. You -remember none of us credited it at the time. -Well, it is true, and the wedding is to be -celebrated privately on the seventh. Auntie -is to go and I promised Clara I would be -there. Will this not be rather a blow to your -friend Chauncey Osborne?</p> - -<p>“Her fiancé, I believe, is quite unknown -in our set. You know how very peculiar dear -Clara always was! She, of course, says that -he is charming and a man of culture and -ability, a prominent politician and bound to -make a stir in the world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Page 124]</span></p> - -<p>“Auntie met an old friend here, Mr. -Schuyler, who went to school with auntie. -They have been living their school-days over -again—it seems they were boy and girl lovers—and -to hear them laugh over the things -they used to do makes me laugh from very -sympathy.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, girls don’t have half the -fun now that they did in auntie’s day. I will -never be able, when I get to be an old woman, -to sit down and recall with a playmate the -funny scrapes we got into when we were -children. When I hear auntie and Mr. -Schuyler talk, I feel so sorry that my life has -been so common-place.</p> - -<p>“But there—I have written four times as -much as you did in your last. Mr. Schuyler -is going over to New York with us, and we -are going to show him about. He has not -been there since he was a boy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Page 125]</span></p> - -<p>“Hoping you have been a good boy during -my absence, I am,</p> - -<p class="right" style="margin-right: 2em;margin-bottom: .1em "> -“Very sincerely your (s), -</p> - -<p class="right" style="margin-right: 1em;margin-top: .1em; "> -“<span class="smcap">Penelope</span>.”<br> -</p> - -<ul style="list-style-type: none;width: 27em; "> - <li style="text-align: center; "> - To - </li> - <li style="text-align: right; "> - “<span class="smcap">Richard Treadwell</span>, Esqre., - </li> - <li style="text-align: right; "> - “‘The Washington,’ - </li> - <li style="text-align: right; "> - “New York City.” - </li> -</ul> - -<p>“I forgot to say that Clara’s fianceé, I -have been told, is the sole proprietor of some -kind of a factory downtown which assures him -quite a nice income. His name is Tolman -Bike. Did you ever hear of him?”</p> -</div> - -<p>“The name sounds familiar to me,” -thought Dick, as he folded the letter and put -it in his pocket. “Still I do not remember -ever knowing such a person. Probably I recollect -it, from reading that notice of Clara’s -engagement, although I had forgotten the whole -matter.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Page 126]</span></p> - -<p>Dick Treadwell was not feeling very easy. -He longed for Penelope’s return, yet he -dreaded it, knowing that he had no progress -to report in the task she had imposed upon -him. He had thought she would be pleased -with his conduct in regard to Dido Morgan -and Maggie Williams, but when she had -expressed a hope that he had not been devoting -himself to girls and wasting the time that -belonged to the work he had undertaken, he -felt a little dubious as to the way in which she -would receive any account of the part he took -with the poor girls whom he wished to befriend.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t the matter of likes and dislikes a -strange thing?” Dick asked, when, an hour -later, he and Dido Morgan were dining -together. He refilled the glasses which stood -by their plates. “This is very good wine, -don’t you think? Let me help you to some -spaghetti. I have often wondered why at first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Page 127]</span> -meeting we conceive a regard for some people -and a dislike for others.</p> - -<p>“You remember the incident I related to -you the first, or rather the second time you -dined with me, of the man I met in the Hoffman -House who warned me that I was -shadowed. Well, I have run across him several -times since. I have the strangest feeling -for him, and he apparently dislikes me. I -can’t say that I like him, but I have such a -desire to be with and near him that I can’t -say I dislike him either. By Jove, I was -surprised when he fell against the bar that -day and looked so miserably ill. I thought -at first it was the sight of my name that -affected him, but he assured me that it was -a spasm of the heart, a chronic complaint of -his.”</p> - -<p>“What was his name?” asked Dido, breaking -off a bit of bread. She was growing prettier -every day since Richard had secured a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Page 128]</span> -position for her, and to-night she was bewitching -in a new gray cloth gown.</p> - -<p>“Clark, he said; I think I asked him for -it,” said Dick, laughing.</p> - -<p>“You don’t seem to have tired of going -around to all sorts of restaurants,” he continued, -noticing the happy expression on Dido’s -pretty face.</p> - -<p>“Tired of it!”</p> - -<p>Her tone but faintly expressed what -untold happiness those evenings had been to -her.</p> - -<p>“I thought you would be disgusted with -our search before it was half finished,” he said, -looking admiringly into her soft brown eyes -that had given him one of those startled -glances which half bewitched him.</p> - -<p>“It has been heaven!” she said, with a -sigh of rapture. “I love the bright lights, -and the well-dressed, happy people, and the -busy, silent waiters, and the white linen and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Page 129]</span> -the fine dishes. Oh, I think people who can -take their dinners out all the time must be -very, very happy.”</p> - -<p>“You would not think so if you were a -poor, forlorn man,” he said, smiling at her -enthusiasm, “and had to dine out three hundred -and sixty-five times a year, not counting -breakfast and luncheon. I’ve started -out evenings and I’ve stopped on Broadway -and wondered where on earth I should eat. -Delmonico’s, St. James, Hoffman, all are old -stories, clear down the list. Here I had -luncheon, there probably I had breakfast, the -other place I dined last night or the night -before, and at last I turn down some cross -street, and go into a cheap place where a fellow -can’t get a mouthful that it doesn’t gag -him, so I’ll have an appetite to-morrow. I -hate the sight of a bill of fare and I get so -that I’ll fool around for half an hour until -some man near me orders, and then I order<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Page 130]</span> -the same thing. I tell you it’s dreadful not to -know where to eat.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose that is the reason some men -marry?” she asked, brightly.</p> - -<p>“Well, not exactly,” he said, flushing -slightly.</p> - -<p>“Do the people you see in the restaurants -never interest you?” Dido asked, seeing he -had become silent.</p> - -<p>“No, I never notice them unless it is -some one with loud dress or manners, and then -I watch them as I watch a lot of monkeys in a -cage.”</p> - -<p>“Every place I go I see some one interesting,” -Dido said, slowly. “Look at that fat -woman over there, in the cherry-red dress and -hat. See how proud that little dark man -looks of having such a woman with him. I -have heard her tell him of her former great -triumphs as an actress, and I can imagine a -story of her life. See that slender, pretty,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Page 131]</span> -dark-eyed girl, with very white brow, and very -red cheeks, and very dark shadows about her -eyes, and very, very golden hair. See her -smile and talk to that insipid-looking man, -with an enormous nose and bald head and eye-glasses, -whose ‘villain’s mustache,’ carries -a sample of everything he had for dinner. -Now can’t you picture that pretty girl is some -ballet girl ambitious to rise. He, a man of -means and influence, and she forgets his looks -and that he talks through his nose, and tries -to impress him with her ability.”</p> - -<p>“Hum!” said Richard, giving Dido a -strange smile. “I’m afraid my imagination -is not as great or as charitable as yours. -Tell me what you think of the party to our -left.”</p> - -<p>“That poor little man without legs?” -asked Dido, quick tears coming to her eyes. -“He has a bright, happy face though, and he -has diamonds—many of them, on his fingers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Page 132]</span> -I think that large woman who sits beside him -and looks into his eyes so affectionately, loves -him very much because of his affliction. I’m -sure I would. And that man and woman -opposite, though I don’t like their looks, seem -to heed every word he says and to be very -fond of him.”</p> - -<p>Richard laughed softly.</p> - -<p>“Well, Dido, I don’t want to spoil your -dream, but that little man has a brain that is far -out of proportion to his weak and dwarfed body. -He stands at the head of his profession, and -has accumulated wealth by his industry and -ability. Quite a reproach to us worthless -fellows, who were born with legs. I have a -great admiration for him, but those people -with him neither care for him for his ability or -his affliction. They are not of that kind.”</p> - -<p>“What then?” asked Dido, in distress.</p> - -<p>“Money—money, child. It’s the story -you could read at almost every table here.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Page 133]</span> -That’s why I don’t allow my imagination any -liberty in restaurants. Your eyes have not -yet tried the worldly glasses which experience -has put on mine. And now, while we drink -our coffee, let us talk about Maggie’s sister.”</p> - -<p>A girl came through, trying to sell some -badly assorted flowers, and a black and yellow -bird in a cage, high above their heads, thrusts -his long beak and head through the wires and, -impudently twisting his head to see what was -taking place below him, gave vent at intervals -to a shrill, defiant cry.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Richard lighted a cigarette and -resumed the conversation.</p> - -<p>“I think it is useless to hunt for Maggie’s -sister any longer. We have made a pretty -thorough search of the resorts where I thought -we were likely to meet her. I confess I am -disappointed. I was sure we would run across -her somewhere, and that you would recognize<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Page 134]</span> -her. Do you think it is possible for you not -to recognize her?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed! I’d recognize Lucille Williams -anywhere,” Dido replied, earnestly.</p> - -<p>“My private opinion—don’t tell Maggie—is, -that she tired of her family and home and -that she took herself to better quarters and -means to keep them in ignorance of her whereabouts, -fearing they would ask her to give -towards their support.”</p> - -<p>“I hardly think Lucille was as heartless as -that,” thoughtfully replied Dido. “She was -vain and fond of dressing, but I don’t think -she would be as mean as that.”</p> - -<p>“What were her habits?” asked Dick.</p> - -<p>“Habits? What she did regularly? -Well, she used to go to Coney Island and -Rockaway and such places in the Summer, with -some boys she met in the places she worked, -but after she got work in the office at the factory -where we worked, she got very steady<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Page 135]</span> -and she wouldn’t go out with anybody any -more. The nights she went out she went to -do extra work.”</p> - -<p>“How did she get along with your employer? -You gave me the impression that he -was very brutal,” Dick said, musingly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Lucille got along splendidly with -him. I always thought he was horrible, but -she never said anything about him. She was -very easy-natured, anyway, and I have a bad -temper,” said Dido, in a shamefaced way.</p> - -<p>“How did he like her, do you know?”</p> - -<p>“Who? Tolman Bike?” asked Dido, -quickly.</p> - -<p>“Tolman Bike? Why”—stammered -Dick.</p> - -<p>“He was the proprietor, you know, and -Lucille was his stenographer,” exclaimed Dido. -“I don’t know what he thought of her, for -Lucille didn’t talk much; but she seemed to -get along well enough.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Page 136]</span></p> - -<p>Dido became silent, as Richard was intent -on his own thoughts.</p> - -<p>Tolman Bike was the name of the man who -was to marry Clara Chamberlain.</p> - -<p>Tolman Bike was also the name of the -employer of Lucille and Maggie Williams and -Dido Morgan.</p> - -<p>Tolman Bike, Miss Chamberlain’s fianceé, -was the proprietor of a downtown factory, so -it must be one and the same man.</p> - -<p>Well, and if so, could it be possible that -Tolman Bike, the man who was engaged to -marry a banker’s daughter, could have been -in love with Lucille Williams, a poor stenographer, -and persuaded her to leave her home -for him?</p> - -<p>Richard was a young man, and the idea -was not a surprising one to him. According -to what he could learn, the dark-haired stenographer -was fond of the things she could little -afford to possess, and it was likely that her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Page 137]</span> -employer, knowing her desires, made it possible -for her to gratify them.</p> - -<p>Now that he was to marry, he would not -be likely to hold out any inducement for the -girl to stay with him, and if they should happen -across her now it was possible that she -would gladly return to the humble home of -her sister.</p> - -<p>Still, supposing Tolman Bike had found -no attraction for him in the stenographer? -It was a very delicate thing to handle, considering -that Richard’s knowledge was mostly -supposition.</p> - -<p>“Do you think that Maggie’s sister really -worked those nights she was away from -home?” Dick asked Dido.</p> - -<p>“She always brought extra money home, -which proved she did,” Dido replied positively.</p> - -<p>“Did she ever talk about Tolman Bike?”</p> - -<p>“Never, except when she mentioned that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Page 138]</span> -he had dictated more work than usual, or something -of that kind.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I believe that Tolman Bike can tell -me something about Maggie’s sister,” Richard -said. Dido looked at him with a smile of -doubt. “If she is not with him, he can tell -me who she is with, and that is just as well. -I must see him immediately. I have no time -to lose, for three days from to-morrow he is to -be married.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Page 139]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI"> - CHAPTER XI.<br> - <small>WHO WAS THE MAN THAT BOUGHT THE GOWN?</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>But Tolman Bike was not easily found.</p> - -<p>Richard Treadwell got up early and went -to the box factory, only to be told that Mr. -Bike, suffering from ill-health, had gone out of -the city for a time.</p> - -<p>The people in charge of the shop either -feigned ignorance or did not know when he -was to return, but Dick knew, in view of Mr. -Bike’s approaching marriage, on the evening -of the 7th, that he could not be absent from -the city more than two days at the very most.</p> - -<p>But one thing he determined on. He -would see Tolman Bike before his marriage to -Miss Chamberlain, and for Maggie Williams’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Page 140]</span> -sake he would know the whereabouts of her -sister. And also for Maggie’s sake would he -do what he could for the sister to induce her -to return to her home.</p> - -<p>In the meantime Richard intended to make -an extra effort to learn something about the -Park mystery girl.</p> - -<p>He drove to the Morgue, and after some -persuasion he got the bundle of clothes the -pretty dead girl had worn when found in the -Park.</p> - -<p>He took the gloves and gown and left the -remaining articles with the keeper.</p> - -<p>He decided from the appearance of the -dress that it had been made at some expensive -establishment. He further decided that he -would make a round of the fashionable dressmaking -places and see if some one in them -would not be able to recognize the work.</p> - -<p>If they recognized the work, tracing the -owner home should be very easy, he thought.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Page 141]</span></p> - -<p>He took the gloves also, but like the dress, -they had no mark that would assist him in his -search.</p> - -<p>After trying several glove stores he abandoned -this as impracticable, for no one claimed -the gloves as having been bought from them, -and even if they had known the gloves were -from their stock, it would have been impossible -to tell who bought them.</p> - -<p>Carefully he made a tour of the fashionable -dressmakers. He felt dreadfully embarrassed -as he entered the different establishments with -the large parcel in his arms. The women in -waiting, as well as the women customers, -looked at him curiously, and when he asked, -in a hesitating way, to see the proprietor or -the forewoman, he could hardly endure the -amused smiles of those who were eagerly listening -to hear him state his business.</p> - -<p>He thought all sorts of things which made -him uncomfortable. First, the idea came to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Page 142]</span> -him that they would think he had brought a -dress to be made to wear in amateur theatricals, -or at a masquerade. But that was not -half as bad as to imagine they thought he had -a wife who was displeased with a dress which -she had returned by him.</p> - -<p>The worst part of all was, when he showed -the crumpled gown to the persons in charge -and inquired if they had made it, to have them -first show surprise at the unusual proceeding, -then quiet indignation when they found that -if Richard had a secret concerning the gown -he meant to keep it, and when he guarded -well his reasons for such a strange visit they -bowed him out with such an air of injured -dignity that Richard felt very small and -unhappy.</p> - -<p>There were a few that instead of assuming -an injured air, laughed at Richard, and one -familiarly asked him if his wife refused to tell -where she got it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Page 143]</span></p> - -<p>The majority of the dressmakers denied -the gown so emphatically that Richard began -to have a dim idea that the workmanship was -not so fine as had been thought and that the -dress had come from a humbler shop. He, -not being a woman, did not know that one -dressmaker never saw any good in another -dressmaker’s work.</p> - -<p>When he reached the last establishment of -any note and importance it was almost dinner -time. There were no customers about, and -the employees were making preparations for -closing the shop. A girl came forward and -politely asked Richard his business.</p> - -<p>He told her he wished to see whoever had -charge of the place. Requesting him to be -seated she left soon to return with a man.</p> - -<p>Richard felt more comfortable than he had -all day. He explained to the man, who listened -kindly and politely, showing neither -surprise nor curiosity, that he wished to find<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Page 144]</span> -the persons who had made the gown he had -with him, in order to find out who had paid for -the dress and where it had been delivered.</p> - -<p>The man took the gown and went to the -workroom. Later he returned and went inside -the small office.</p> - -<p>Richard waited impatiently, and for the -first time a hope of solving the mystery of -Central Park entered his heart. Surely when -the man took so much time he had discovered -something.</p> - -<p>Still Richard tried to keep his expectations -from running away, lest he be compelled to -suffer a severe disappointment; so when the -man came towards him with the crumpled -gown flung across his arm Richard offered the -consolation to himself that he had still left -for his inquiry the less fashionable dressmakers.</p> - -<p>“The dress was made here,” the man said. -Dick’s pulse started off at a two-minute gait.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Page 145]</span> -“A letter was sent here containing an -order for a dress. The measurements were -inclosed and with them over half the price of -the dress in bills. The letter stated that the -person for whom it was intended was out of -town, and that in ten days the dress would be -called for.</p> - -<p>“We often have customers order dresses -from a distance,” the man continued, “and we -make them from measure. Ten days afterwards -a messenger boy came in with an order -for us to receipt for the price of the dress and -a $100 bill, from which I took the rest of the -price and gave him the dress and the change.”</p> - -<p>“Have you the letter that was sent you -with the measurements and order?” asked -Richard, with a calmness that covered his -excitement.</p> - -<p>“No. The boy said he must have the -letter containing the measurements, and I sent -up to the forewoman in the workroom. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Page 146]</span> -had transferred the order to her book, but -had the letter pinned to the same page, so she -sent it down and I gave it to the messenger.”</p> - -<p>“Have you not even the name and address -of the person who ordered the dress?” asked -Dick, very much cast down by the turn things -had taken.</p> - -<p>“The name we have—it was Miss L. W. -Smith—but there was no address. It was an -unusual thing for us to do, but as I told you, -we have many customers who send us orders -for dresses when they are away from town, -and ladies are not always careful and exact -about addresses. They are liable to fall into -the error of thinking that if we have once -made a garment for them, by merely signing -their name we are sure to recall their address -and histories. We keep very satisfactory -books, which contain little histories of every -garment we make, so we always refer to that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Page 147]</span> -when a lady forgets to write us as much as is -necessary for us to know.”</p> - -<p>“Had you ever made a dress for Miss -Smith before?” Dick asked, still a faint hope -stirring his pulses.</p> - -<p>“We thought so, but on consulting our -books found the measurements showed that one -was for a large woman and the other woman -must have been slender.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose it is absurd to ask if you have -any idea of where the messenger was from,” -Dick said, rather faintly.</p> - -<p>“I do not know, of course, but there is a -messenger office on the block above, where -you might inquire. It is almost useless, -though, for the lady doubtless got the boy in -her district, and as you are aware, this is not a -district of residences. Still, you would not -lose anything by asking. They may be able -to offer you some assistance. I can give you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Page 148]</span> -the date the boy called for the gown and I am -very sorry I cannot do more for you.”</p> - -<p>The man had the gown put in a box for -Richard, who left the establishment feeling -happier than he had since he and Penelope -had found the dead girl. He was on the track -of her identity at last, and, though it was a -faint clue he possessed, he felt it a very sure -one.</p> - -<p>They did not show much inclination to -help Richard at the District Telegraph office. -At first they said it was impossible to tell -which messenger it was, even if he had been -from that place, and then, after a fashion, they -did make a search, but with no success.</p> - -<p>“I know it,” said one of the messengers, -who was standing at the counter. “I had -stopped out front to scrap with Reddy Ryan, -who was takin’ a basket of clothes home, and -a duffer drove up in a carriage and asked if I’d -do a job for him, ’n I told him I’d been sent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Page 149]</span> -on a call, so he said he’d give me a dime if I’d -run an’ get him a messenger. I came, an’ -Shorty, No. 313, was sent out. I remember it -’cause he told me the man just sent him into -Moscowitz’s to get a dress an’ pay a bill, an’ -gave him a dollar for doin’ it.”</p> - -<p>“Where is No. 313?” asked Dick, his -spirits rising fifty per cent.</p> - -<p>“He’s off on a call. No, here he is,” said -the messenger who knew something. “Come -here, Shorty, you’re wanted.”</p> - -<p>Shorty was a red-headed boy with a -freckled face and one eye. The other messenger -recalled the circumstances to him, and -he sniffed his nose and said he remembered.</p> - -<p>Richard then asked if there was a lady in -the carriage, but No. 313 thought not. Then -Richard asked him what the man looked like, -but No. 313 could not say, except that he had -a mustache and wore a soft felt hat. No. -313 had no opinion as to whether the carriage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Page 150]</span> -was private or hired, but he “guessed” it -wasn’t a livery hack, “cause the harness -jingled.”</p> - -<p>The other and brighter messenger said the -man was young, denied the soft felt hat and -pronounced the carriage a hired one.</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>Richard hurried through his dinner, -possessed of an unusual feeling of happiness, -and went for Dido Morgan to spend their last -evening in their peculiar search for Maggie’s -sister.</p> - -<p>To-morrow Penelope would be home, and -he had learned something. If ever so little, -still it was something, and now that he had -made such a successful start he began to feel -hopeful of a final success. He knew now -where the dress had been made and he knew -a man had called for it. He had engaged the -two messenger boys, and with them he intended -to search the town over for the man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Page 151]</span> -who got the dress which the dead girl had -worn. Once he found the man, then the rest -would be easy.</p> - -<p>Richard took Dido to the Eden Musée, -and after she had seen all the figures that -interested her, Dick took her up to the cosy -retreat above the orchestra, where the tall -green palms cut off the glare of the electric -light. He ordered some ice cream for Dido -and some Culmbacher for himself, and lighting -a cigarette he gave himself up to the influence -of the beautiful Hungarian music and -dreams of Penelope.</p> - -<p>The music sobbed and sighed, and Dick -drifted on dream-clouds and was lazily happy. -He would solve the mystery, he felt sure, and -then what years of happiness with Penelope -stretched before him. What a great thing it -was to be happy; life is so short, why should -people allow themselves to be unhappy for a -second if they can possibly avoid it? An unusual<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Page 152]</span> -tenderness filled his heart, a peaceful -happiness stole over him, making him very gentle.</p> - -<p>And poor little Dido, how dreary life -loomed up before her! Dick’s heart swelled -with pity, and he sympathetically took the -girl’s hand in his and looked tenderly into -the soft, brown eyes that looked at him so -trustingly.</p> - -<p>There was so much happiness and love in -waiting for him and Penelope, but what did -life offer to poor, lonely Dido?</p> - -<p>And as the sobbing music ended in one -long thrill, Richard, raising his eyes from the -richly tinted face of this sweet girl companion, -saw standing before him, with white face and -stern eyes—</p> - -<p>Penelope.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Page 153]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII"> - CHAPTER XII.<br> - <small>ONE AND THE SAME.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>At the sight of Penelope Richard was -dumbfounded.</p> - -<p>He stifled a first impulse to spring to his -feet and greet her when he saw her stern, -white and reproachful face, and sitting still -tried slyly to drop Dido’s hand.</p> - -<p>With an almost imperceptible bow of -recognition, Penelope went on after her aunt -and a gentleman who, unnoticed, had in -advance passed Dick and his companion.</p> - -<p>“D—— it!” said Dick, warmly, in an -undertone, and then he thought: “I’m in for -it now. Penelope will never believe that -thinking of my love for her made me feel a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Page 154]</span> -great pity for this lonely girl. She will say I -was making love to her, because I held her -hand, and she will never forgive it. What an -ass I am to risk a life-time of happiness with -Penelope, just to sympathize with a girl whose -life is lonely, and yet, poor little devil—It’s -all up with Penelope, I know. I can tell by the -look on her face that she will not forgive or -believe me. I’ll give up. It’s no use now -trying to solve the Park mystery—no use -trying to do anything.”</p> - -<p>Dido looked uneasy. She had seen all -and she partly understood. She said, in a -little strained voice: “I am very sorry.”</p> - -<p>“I wish some man would tramp on my -toes or punch me in the ribs. I’d just like a -chance to knock the life out of somebody,” -Dick said, savagely.</p> - -<p>Dido laughed softly at Dick’s outburst, but -she delicately avoided the subject of the lady -who looked so angry.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Page 155]</span></p> - -<p>“I forgot to tell you,” she said, at length, -in an effort to change the subject, “that it’s -all arranged at last.”</p> - -<p>“What?” asked Dick, curiously, the current -of his thoughts leading him to think it -was something about Penelope.</p> - -<p>“Why, the affair between Maggie and -Martin Shanks. Why, didn’t you know?” in -great surprise. “Why, I saw it all the first -night you brought me back.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t notice anything in particular, but -I recall plainly feeling Mr. Shanks in the dark,” -Richard replied, grimly. He always felt a little -disgust at the remembrance of his fears that -night, and he cherished a grudge against lanky -Martin Shanks for waiting to be run over in -the hallway.</p> - -<p>“Well, Maggie and Martin are in love,” -exultingly.</p> - -<p>“Possible!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and last night he proposed and was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Page 156]</span> -accepted, and Sunday they are going to be -married, and they are going down to Coney -Island to spend the first day of their honeymoon,” -and Dido sighed in ecstasy.</p> - -<p>“Lucky Martin, I’m sure; I wish I were -in a like position,” Dick said, half enviously, -as the sad thought came that it was all over -between him and Penelope. “I must get a nice -present for Maggie.”</p> - -<p>“It was all so amusing,” said Dido, with a -rippling laugh. “I’m half sorry the courtship -ended so soon. Martin was so faithful, so -bashful, and so desperately in love. The only -time he ever showed the least spirit was the -night you took me home.”</p> - -<p>“I remember it quite well,” Dick said, -drily.</p> - -<p>“I thought he was very insulting that -night, but it’s just his way, you know. He has -liked you ever since then. You know he -always stood guard in the hall; every night I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Page 157]</span> -was out, I would stumble over him, yet he -couldn’t be coaxed to come in. When Maggie -took Blind Gilbert out to his stand, -Martin always followed, so as to protect her -coming home. Still, if she looked at him or -spoke to him, he was so embarrassed that he -couldn’t answer.”</p> - -<p>“He gave her some flowers once, and -when she thanked him, he was so broke up -that he stammered that he had found them on -Broadway and thought she might as well have -them, and the great simpleton had bought -them expressly for her. Next he bought some -cloth for a dress, and when Maggie said she -couldn’t take it, he said he didn’t want it, that -he couldn’t make any use of it. Just fancy -Martin Shanks wearing a dress!”</p> - -<p>Richard smiled at the picture presented to -his mind of lanky Mr. Shanks in a gown.</p> - -<p>“His proposal was the funniest thing,” -Dido continued, with a chuckle. “There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Page 158]</span> -came a loud knock on the door. Maggie -opened it, and there before her was a work-basket. -She picked it up and lifted the lid -and there lay a plain gold ring.”</p> - -<p>“Martin,” she said, going out to where he -was standing in the hall, “you are too good to -me. I can’t take these things.”</p> - -<p>“I had an idee you’d let the parson, who -brings us tracts, put that there ring on yer finger, -and then you’d have the right to do me -mendin’. It was an idee, maybe I’m wrong?”</p> - -<p>“‘Then Maggie said gently, ‘Come in, -Martin,’ and he replied, ‘If yu air wid me, -Maggie?’ and she blushed, and said, ‘Yes, -Martin,’ and he stepped into the room, saying, -‘I’ll come in to settle accounts.’</p> - -<p>“When he went out again all arrangements -had been made for a speedy marriage. Martin -said it was no use to waste time in being -engaged, so they are to be married Sunday.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Page 159]</span> -They are the happiest couple you ever saw,” -and Dido sighed enviously.</p> - -<p>“And what is to become of you and blind -Gilbert? Are you to have no share in their -Eden?” Richard asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes. Maggie says they are going to -rent a flat further uptown, and one room is to -be for me and Lucille when she comes back, -and Gilbert is to stay with them also. It’s a -pretty big family to begin with, but we’ll all -give what we can to pay expenses. I don’t -think Gilbert will go, though. He likes Maggie -as though she was his daughter, but he’s -been so many years in that house on Mulberry -Street that I don’t think he will leave it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, this is our last evening to search -for Maggie’s sister,” Richard said, with half -regret, “and we have had no success whatever. -I’m sorry, for Maggie’s sake, though personally -I feel it is just as well for her if her sister -never returns to be a burden on her.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Page 160]</span></p> - -<p>“I intend to see Tolman Bike before his -marriage and learn from him where the sister is. -Then, if we think it advisable, we can still persuade -her to go home, but I have another important -matter that will take all my time, so I -cannot do much, for a while, at least, about -Maggie’s sister, unless Bike tells me where she -is when I see him, as I intend to do to-morrow. -I expect to be too busy working on -an important case to see you for a while, but I -hope your good luck will still continue, and you -can congratulate Mr. Shanks and Maggie for -me.”</p> - -<p>“It is useless for me to try to thank you -for your kindness and help to me,” Dido said, -brokenly.</p> - -<p>Dick’s blue eyes beamed kindly on Dido as -he replied, quickly: “There’s a good girl, -don’t let us talk about that. I’m a useless fellow, -and if I have been of the least service to -any one, the gratitude is all on my side. I am<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Page 161]</span> -grateful to you for allowing me to imagine I -have been of service to you.”</p> - -<p>“You have been better to me than any one -on earth,” she said, vehemently, her eyes burning -into his. “You have often said there was -no gratitude in the world, so I won’t say I -would like to prove my gratitude to you, but -some day—I’ll wait. The day will come when -I can show you what I feel.”</p> - -<p>“My dear child,” he said, softly, his eyes -moist, for he was much touched by the girl’s -words, “only be happy and that knowledge -will make me happier.”</p> - -<p>Dido looked down and was silent. Presently -two tears chased each other down over -her cheeks and splashed on her slender hands, -folded pathetically in her lap.</p> - -<p>“Why, Dido, child!” Dick said, startled.</p> - -<p>She raised her brown eyes, wet with tears, -to his frank blue ones, and her lips were -quivering pitifully. He took her hands,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Page 162]</span> -patting them soothingly, not daring to say a -word.</p> - -<p>“T-they <em>would</em> come,” she faltered, her -mouth bravely smiling while her eyes were -filling with tears. “I—I could not help it.”</p> - -<p>He still said nothing, but kept on patting -her hands, half embarrassed now.</p> - -<p>“I was so—so wretched until you found -me, and I’ve been so happy since, that—that I -couldn’t quite bear—your words.”</p> - -<p>“I hope I did not speak roughly,” poor, -blind Dick said, hardly understanding her -grief. In his separation from her he was -losing nothing, but she—poor child—she was -losing everything.</p> - -<p>“No—that’s it. You are so kind,” she -faltered. “Don’t, please, don’t mind me. I am -so foolish. I am always crying, don’t you think?”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him with a sad, little -smile that made his heart ache, he hardly -knew why.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Page 163]</span></p> - -<p>“Will you promise me something, Dido?” -he asked, suddenly.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she answered, simply.</p> - -<p>“Promise that you will try to be happy; -that you will never cherish blue thoughts, no -difference what happens. Let ill-luck frown -on you all it wishes. Laugh at it; laugh in it’s -face until your laughter makes it smile. -Promise me to do this?”</p> - -<p>“Is that what you do?” she asked, evasively.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t know. But what difference! -I don’t get as low in spirits as you do. Won’t -you promise?”</p> - -<p>“You have brought me happiness. I -promise if I get blue to think of you. Will -that do?” she asked, seriously.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said, half provoked, -but he urged no further.</p> - -<p>And these two young people, whose barks -had floated side by side on the stream of life<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Page 164]</span> -for a brief time, were drifting apart. Mentally -they were taking farewell, for they knew -that, if even for a few days, they remained yet -in sight or call, still their course lay so widely -apart that they might never hope to float near -each other again.</p> - -<p>So they silently left the place where they -had spent their last evening together and went -out on the street into the cool quiet night.</p> - -<p>A few gas jets dimly lighted up Twenty-third -Street, and the stores that lined the opposite -side frowned dark and gloomy upon the -few people who occasionally made their appearance -as they walked from the darkness into -the light of the street lamps, and then disappeared -again into the shadows beyond.</p> - -<p>Coming towards the young couple from -Sixth Avenue was a man, thoughtfully walking -along, as if, unable to sleep, he had sought the -quiet streets to think.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Page 165]</span></p> - -<p>Richard noticed him, and pressing Dido’s -arm, he whispered:</p> - -<p>“Look at this man.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” she said, excitedly.</p> - -<p>The men exchanged glances, and the stranger -raised his hat stiffly in response to Richard’s -cordial greeting. After they had passed, -Richard said:</p> - -<p>“Why do you tremble so? I merely -wanted to call your attention to him. That is -Mr. Clarke, the gentleman I had the experience -with in the Hoffman House bar.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Clarke!” cried Dido, in amazement. -“<em>Why that is Tolman Bike!</em>”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Page 166]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII"> - CHAPTER XIII.<br> - <small>A LOVERS’ QUARREL.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>“Why!” as if unpleasantly surprised at his -visit, “how do you do?”</p> - -<p>Such was Penelope Howard’s greeting to -Richard Treadwell the morning following the -meeting in the Eden Musée. He could not -stay away from her, so he decided to try to -explain all about Dido. He wished now he -had not been so anxious to keep the affair a -secret until Penelope’s return. It made things -look all the blacker for him.</p> - -<p>Penelope was a clever girl. She was bitterly hurt, -but she had no intention of quarreling -with Dick. If she experienced any -jealous pangs he should not have the satisfaction<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Page 167]</span> -of knowing it. She would merely -maintain a cold indifference and make him -feel that, do as he pleased, it was nothing to -her. She would smile, but indifferently, and -not with the smile of affection with which she -had always greeted him. She would treat him -in a manner that would show her displeasure -and utter lack of affection for him, but she -would not quarrel and so give him a chance to -offer an apology or explanation.</p> - -<p>“You don’t seem very glad to see me?” -Dick ventured, with a forced smile.</p> - -<p>Penelope looked with well assumed amazement -and surprise at his audacity, and, raising -her eyebrows, said with a slightly rising -inflection, “No?”</p> - -<p>Richard felt very ill at ease.</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand,” he continued, -helplessly. “I hope at least you will allow -me to explain the scene which you witnessed -last night.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Page 168]</span></p> - -<p>She said, with a cold smile: “Really, you -must excuse me. I have no right or desire to -know anything about your personal affairs.”</p> - -<p>“Confound it, Penelope. Don’t be so -infernally indifferent,” exclaimed the young -man with exasperation.</p> - -<p>She simply looked at him. Scorn and -disdain was pictured on her expressive countenance -now.</p> - -<p>“I hope Mrs. Van Brunt is well?” he said -awkwardly, hoping to bridge over Penelope’s -anger.</p> - -<p>“Quite well, thank you,” looking idly out -the window.</p> - -<p>“Is she at home?”</p> - -<p>“No; she has just gone out with Mr. -Schuyler,” Penelope replied, picking up a book -and aimlessly turning the leaves.</p> - -<p>“I hope I may be permitted to call and -pay my respects to her?” he said, indifferently.</p> - -<p>“Auntie will doubtless be pleased to see<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Page 169]</span> -you,” was the reply, with a marked emphasis -on the noun.</p> - -<p>“How long are you going to keep up this -nonsense, Penelope?”</p> - -<p>She shrugged her shoulders impatiently -and pouted her lips, but made no reply.</p> - -<p>“Do you know you are a very foolish girl -sometimes? You cheat yourself and me out -of happiness. You know down in your heart -you never doubt my faith to you. What -pleasure you get from pretending that you do, -I can’t imagine. Come, be reasonable. Don’t -cultivate a bad temper.”</p> - -<p>“Hum! I should not think you would -care what I did if I am unreasonable, bad tempered, -foolish, suspicious—is that all?” mockingly. -“I am glad to know your honest opinion -of me. Doubtless, that cheap looking girl -you were with last night is more amiable.”</p> - -<p>“I imagine she is, Penelope,” Dick said, -dejectedly and out of patience. “I have loved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Page 170]</span> -you devotedly, and I have meekly endured all -your caprices, and if you want my devotion to -end in this way I can only obey. If you ever -regret it, Penelope, remember it was your own -doing. You sent me away and I shall not -return.”</p> - -<p>And Richard, a very wretched young man -indeed, walked hastily from the room.</p> - -<p>Penelope never moved until she heard the -hall door close. She thought that he would -come back; he always had, but when she realized -that he had really gone she was surprised -and a little frightened.</p> - -<p>Richard was very good-natured, but she felt -she had gone just a little too far, and that if -she wanted him back it would be necessary to -humble herself.</p> - -<p>She could not recall a time before that she -had so forgotten herself, and allowed her temper -to take such a hold of her. She could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Page 171]</span> -hardly recall all she had said, but she felt very -small and ungenerous.</p> - -<p>Now that she had lost him she reviewed -her own conduct, and felt that, although Richard -had done wrong, she had been unnecessarily -harsh. He deserved some punishment -to teach him not to err again, but she had been -too unforgiving.</p> - -<p>Wasn’t Dick always gentle and kind to her, -and did he not always manfully and tenderly -overlook her little mistakes and pettishness? -Besides, was she not sure he loved her better -than any girl in the world? Then why should -she be jealous if he amused himself with those -other women who are always so ready to -“draw men on.”</p> - -<p>A woman in love always reproaches herself -with being the cause of every lover’s jar.</p> - -<p>A woman in love invariably blames other -women for all the slips made by the man she -loves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Page 172]</span></p> - -<p>And they will do it to the end of the -world.</p> - -<p>While Penelope was spending the day -racked with unhappy thoughts, Richard was -busy trying to see Tolman Bike and managing -the messenger boys in their search for the man -who paid for the dead girl’s gown.</p> - -<p>Richard called at Mr. Bike’s office, only to -be informed that Mr. Bike was still absent -from town. But he knew to the contrary this -time; so, obtaining the address, he called at -Tolman Bike’s bachelor apartments in Washington -Square.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bike was in town, this servant said, -but he did not expect him in until it was -time to dress for a 7 o’clock dinner. He did -not know where Mr. Bike was to be found, -so Richard was forced to rest content with -this meagre information until a later hour.</p> - -<p>Richard first consulted a directory. He -found quite a list of Smiths, but no Miss L.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Page 173]</span> -W. Smith, and he concluded if nothing more -feasible offered he would select the Smiths -who lived in the best neighborhoods, and personally -visit every family until he found the -right one, or knew positively no such Smith -lived in New York. He had inserted a personal -advertisement in all the morning and -evening newspapers asking for information -concerning the relatives of Miss L. W. Smith, -and he expected by evening to have some definite -clue to work on.</p> - -<p>His disagreement with Penelope, instead -of killing all desire to try further to solve the -mystery of Central Park, infused him with new -life and energy, and he was resolved to solve -the mystery, and by doing so, make Penelope -regret her unreasonableness.</p> - -<p>Accompanied by the messenger boy, Richard -Treadwell tried his original plan of walking -about to meet people in the busy parts of -the city.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Page 174]</span></p> - -<p>“When you see a man that you think resembles -the man who got the dress, I want -you to tell me,” he instructed the boy, and so -in hopes of knowing at least what the man -looked like, Richard spent the day wearily -travelling around.</p> - -<p>“There goes a fellow that looks just like -the other duffer,” the boy announced, as he -and Dick stood watching the passers-by on -Broadway.</p> - -<p>Richard started to follow the man who, in -company with a red-headed florid-faced man -that carried about with him one hundred and -fifty pounds of superfluous flesh, was going -down Broadway.</p> - -<p>The man pointed out by the boy had a -light beard, a high nose and sharp eyes. -Richard recognized him as an Albany assemblyman.</p> - -<p>“That looks totally unlike the man I pictured -from your description,” Richard said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Page 175]</span> -crossly, as they followed the two men into the -Hoffman House.</p> - -<p>“Well, his face looks like the other fellow, -only the other one had black whiskers, and -this here one’s is red.”</p> - -<p>“Bleached, doubtless,” Dick said ironically.</p> - -<p>“Well, he looks the same, anyway,” the -boy protested, as Dick seated himself in the -bar-room and made a pretense of reading a -letter.</p> - -<p>The two men went to the bar and ordered -drinks, and as the thinner one (they were -neither on the lean order) raised a glass to his -mouth, Richard started and looked more -closely at him.</p> - -<p>Surely his face looked familiar then!</p> - -<p>“I am tired; you can go to your office -now and come to me in the morning,” Dick -said to the messenger, who gladly started off.</p> - -<p>Richard sat there with serious face watching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Page 176]</span> -the man at the bar whom the boy had pointed -out, until he and his heavy companion went -out; then Dick fell into deep thought.</p> - -<p>A wild, improbable suspicion had come to -his mind, so improbable, so wild, that he felt -ashamed to dwell on it. The likeness was -familiar; so unlike, and yet so strangely like, -that Dick hardly knew what to believe.</p> - -<p>“Poor devil! Why should I allow a -chance resemblance to make me accuse him of -a thing so bad as that. He has enough to -bear and answer for now, yet—yet—But it’s -too wild, too improbable. I’ll forget it, I’ll -dismiss the thought from my mind; the messenger -was surely mistaken, and I’ll devote my -evening to seeing about Maggie’s sister. -Here’s to an evening free from all thoughts of -that dead girl. And yet—it’s very strange—I -half believe”—Then, shrugging his shoulders, -Dick impatiently drained his glass and started -for Washington Square.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Page 177]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV"> - CHAPTER XIV.<br> - <small>“GIVE ME UNTIL TO-MORROW.”</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>As Richard was early, he stopped for a -moment to see Dido Morgan, and finding her -ready to start home, asked her to walk a little -way with him down Fifth Avenue.</p> - -<p>She was looking quite wan when he went -in, but she brightened up and flushed with -pleasure at the prospect of seeing him for a -little time.</p> - -<p>“I had an offer from a manager to-day to -go on the stage,” she said, quietly.</p> - -<p>“I hope you did not accept it,” Dick -replied, quickly, looking at the girl’s downcast -face, which seemed strangely altered since last -night.</p> - -<p>“Not yet.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Page 178]</span></p> - -<p>“And you won’t, Dido?” he said, pleadingly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why not, Mr. Treadwell.”</p> - -<p>Dick started unpleasantly. He had not -before noticed that she never called him by -any name when addressing him, and now it -seemed to suggest that there was a difference -between them, and he vainly wondered what it -was.</p> - -<p>“I should be very sorry, Dido, to see you -go on the stage. In the first place you don’t -know anything about acting, and it would take -you years before you could hope to attain any -position.”</p> - -<p>“I <span class="allsmcap">FEEL</span> that I can act,” she said deeply. -“My nerves seem so tight that I long to get -up and act some life. I want to act love, and -then hate, and then murder.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Dido?” Dick asked, coolly and -curiously, although he felt the deep emotion -underlying her words. He recalled what an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Page 179]</span> -old club-man said to him once, that every -woman disappointed in love wanted to act, and -he half wondered if Dido had been falling in -love with some of the handsome men who frequented -photograph galleries to have reproduced -the being they love most of any on -earth, but he put away the thought as a wrong -to Dido.</p> - -<p>“I <em>feel</em> it, I tell you I feel it. I can’t -endure a monotonous life any more. I must -have some excitement,” she said, passionately.</p> - -<p>“I tell you what you want—exercise! You -want to walk and you want to swing clubs and -you’ll soon be all right. You are so confined -that you have a superfluous energy which your -work does not exhaust. If you spend it on -exercise, it will make you a happier and -stronger girl.”</p> - -<p>Dido showed a little resentment. It -always disgusts a woman to have her romantic -feelings dissected in a matter-of-fact manner.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Page 180]</span> -Having reached Washington Square, she bade -Richard good-bye and went on her way to her -humble home.</p> - -<p>Richard walked along North Washington -Square until he came to the house where he -expected to find the man who had taken -Lucille Williams from her home. He went -up one flight of stairs to Tolman Bike’s apartments, -and knocked on the door on which was -tacked Mr. Bike’s visiting card.</p> - -<p>In a moment the door was opened, and the -man he knew as Mr. Clarke stood before him.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Bike,” said Richard, with emphasis -on the name, “I must speak with you alone.”</p> - -<p>Richard spoke imperatively and at the -same moment stepped inside.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bike looked as ill as the day he fell -against the Hoffman House bar. He silently -motioned Dick to enter the first room leading -off the private hall in which they stood. -Closing and locking the door he followed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Page 181]</span></p> - -<p>Richard seated himself in an easy chair, -unasked. Mr. Bike sat down before a richly-carved -desk, littered with packages of letters -and photographs, which apparently he had -been engaged in assorting and destroying, for -bundles of them were slowly smouldering in -the open grate.</p> - -<p>The room was very handsome, and Richard -viewed it with appreciation. There was -a large open grate and above the low, wide -mantle was a cabinet containing, in the centre, -a French plate mirror, and on the brackets fine -bits of bric-a-brac. The floor was richly -carpeted, the walls were hung with fine paintings, -while near the portieres, draped just far -enough back to give a picturesque perspective -view of a suite of rooms as cosy in the rear, -was an alabaster statue of The Diver and -another of Paul and Virginia.</p> - -<p>A Mexican <em>serape</em>, quaintly colored, was -thrown over a low lounge, before which lay a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Page 182]</span> -white fur rug. At one side was a little, square -breakfast table, with curiously turned legs, and -near it a half side-board, half cabinet, attractively -filled with exquisite dishes, a few solid -silver pieces and crystal glasses, backed up by -long-necked bottles of liquids to fill them.</p> - -<p>Mr. Bike had removed his coat and waistcoat -and had on a little embroidered jacket. -He did indeed have an unhealthy pallor, and -Dick noticed that the hand with which he -toyed with a carved paper-cutter shook -violently.</p> - -<p>“How this man loves life and its good -things,” Dick thought, sympathetically, as his -gaze wandered from one article of luxury to -another, and on to another room, where, just -through the portire, he could see a brass cage, -in which a yellow canary was jumping restlessly -about, and a small aquarium, up through -which came a spraying fountain. He could -even see goldfish swimming about and a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Page 183]</span> -dark turtle run its head out of the water and -then dive down again to the bottom of the -basin.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you know why I came to see -you?” Dick said at last, when he saw Mr. -Bike would not introduce any subject.</p> - -<p>“No, I can’t say that I do,” Mr. Bike -responded, with affected indifference.</p> - -<p>“Well, I want to know all about Lucille -Williams,” he said abruptly.</p> - -<p>“What right have you to come to me for -such information?” Mr. Bike asked coldly.</p> - -<p>“Because you induced the girl to leave her -home,” Dick replied positively, “and I want -to know all you have to tell about the rest -of it.”</p> - -<p>“I have nothing to tell,” Mr. Bike said, -with a slight, sarcastic smile.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, if you won’t tell, I’ll find a way -to make you,” Richard said, angrily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Page 184]</span></p> - -<p>“Ah! Indeed!” Mr. Bike ejaculated, still -cool and unconcerned.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; if you don’t tell me what I want -to know before I leave here, I will go to Miss -Chamberlain, your fiancée”—Mr. Bike started -uneasily—“I’ll tell her a story you would not -like her to know.”</p> - -<p>“And you flatter yourself that she would -believe you?” sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“I know it. I can prove what I have to -say,” Dick replied in a manner that was unmistakable.</p> - -<p>“All right, go to her. See what you can -do.”</p> - -<p>“By Jove, I will. I will go to the newspapers -too, and I’ll tell them—”</p> - -<p>“What?” Mr. Bike asked, rather uneasily.</p> - -<p>“You know <em>what</em>! Disabuse your mind -of any idea that I don’t know some chapters in -your life, that, if made public, will end your -devilish career.” Richard hinted darkly, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Page 185]</span> -suspicions which had come to him before that -day sweeping over him with full force.</p> - -<p>Tolman Bike was thinking intently. -Richard saw that his last bluff had gone home -and he determined to follow it up with more -of the same kind.</p> - -<p>“Be as unconcerned as you please, Mr. -Bike. To-morrow, when your marriage is -postponed, and you are called on to answer -to the serious charge I shall bring against you, -you will be sorry that you didn’t take the easier -course, and give me the information I asked -for.” Dick said this as if his patience had run -out.</p> - -<p>“I have no information to give,” Mr. Bike -said, in a tone which showed he was beginning -to weaken.</p> - -<p>“Say, it’s wasting time to pretend to me. -Either you will, or you will not, do as I have -asked you. If you don’t, the consequences be -on your own head.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Page 186]</span></p> - -<p>“And would you—do you mean—” hesitated -Tolman Bike, losing confidence at sight -of Dick’s undiminished determination.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; I mean every word of it.” -Dick had risen and he looked very angry and -capable of doing all the bad things he threatened. -“I have given you a chance, and you -refuse to accept, so—” and he shrugged his -shoulders as if his responsibility ended there.</p> - -<p>“And if you get the information, what use -will you make of it?” asked Bike, as if longing -for some hope to be held out to him.</p> - -<p>“You know what I want. It is not to -bring any credit to myself, but to relieve the -suspense of a heart-broken sister.”</p> - -<p>“And would you, if I tell you all, be man -enough to show some mercy?” he asked, in a -hopeless way.</p> - -<p>“I hold out no promises. I am determined -to have a confession from you before your -marriage. If you don’t give it, you don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Page 187]</span> -marry, and you can put that down for a certainty,” -Dick said doggedly.</p> - -<p>“And if I tell you,” in sudden hope, “will -you let my marriage go on without telling -Clara? Promise to let us get away on our -wedding tour and then you can do as you -wish. Only give me that much,” almost -pleaded the now trembling man.</p> - -<p>“And let you wreck the life of the innocent, -unsuspecting woman who becomes your -bride? What sort of a man do you think I -am?” Richard asked in scorn.</p> - -<p>“My God, man! Have some feeling. -Haven’t I suffered enough already? You are -a man, you can understand how a man will -sell his soul to hell for the sake of a woman,” -he said bitterly. “Have some feeling!”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you understand it?” he continued, -desperately, in vain effort to wake compassion -in Richard’s breast. “She was pretty, she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Page 188]</span> -had no friends to make any trouble about it, -and I lost my head. I have suffered for it. -I have regretted it.” And Tolman Bike put -his hands over his face, and Richard heard a -broken, husky sob.</p> - -<p>This was more than he could endure. His -sternness fled at that sound, and he could -hardly refrain from attempting to console the -wretched man. Only thoughts of the poverty-stricken -little sister helped him maintain an air -of unrelenting sternness.</p> - -<p>“Well, what do you ask of me?” Richard -asked with a roughness that covered his real -feeling. Now that he had conquered the man -his suspicions fled. He felt sorry for Bike’s -suffering and had a guilty feeling that he was -the cause of it.</p> - -<p>“Only give me until to-morrow and I’ll -swear to you that you shall know what you -want to before ten o’clock. Give me until -then. If I fail, you have yet time to stop my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Page 189]</span> -marriage in the evening. You are a man, but -if you won’t spare me for a man’s follies, spare -me for the sake of the woman I am to marry. -I’m sick! I can’t talk! Only give me until to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“—— it, Bike,” Richard said, feelingly, -“if it wasn’t for the girl’s sister, I’d fling the -whole thing over.” He little knew what it -meant to him. “I believe your promise. I’m -a man, reckless, indolent, careless as the worst -of them, and, confound it, I’m sorry for you. -There’s my hand.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, thank you,” Bike said, his -deep emotions showing in the painful twitching -of his pale face. He clasped Dick’s firm -hand in his own dry, feverish one, and gave it -a grateful pressure.</p> - -<p>“Until to-morrow, then?”</p> - -<p>“Until to-morrow,” echoed the unhappy -man, looking into Dick’s face with an appealing -look of agony that Richard never forgot.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Page 190]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV"> - CHAPTER XV.<br> - <small>“TO RICHARD TREADWELL, PERSONAL.”</small> -</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was ten o’clock when Richard Treadwell -in gown and slippers, sat down in a high-backed -chair to partake of a light breakfast.</p> - -<p>The dainty table was spread with its burden -of light rolls and yellow butter, with a bit of -ice on it, and crisp, red berries. The odor of -the coffee was very appetizing, but Richard -ate and read the morning paper at the same -time.</p> - -<p>The awnings lowered over the windows -shut out the glare of the morning sun. A -light breeze moved the curtains lazily, and a -green palm on the window-sill waved its long -arms energetically, as if to hurry the indolent -young man who was missing the beauty of -Summer’s early morning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Page 191]</span></p> - -<p>Richard Treadwell’s rooms were as unlike -the elegant apartments of Tolman Bike, as a -violet is unlike a rose. One, like a laughing, -romping child, denoted health and cheerfulness; -the other, unhealthy in tone and coloring, -spoke of dreams and selfish gratification.</p> - -<p>Here were copies of Rosa Bonheur’s -master-pieces of animal life, pictures of racing -horses, photographs of serious-faced dogs in -comical positions, a stuffed fish’s head, with -wide open mouth, mounted on a plaque; boxing -gloves, clubs and dumb-bells, lying where -they had fallen after this young man had taken -a turn at each of them. There was an -unsorted jumble of walking-sticks, whips, fishing -tackle and firearms. The furniture was -light, the curtains were thin and airy, the -carpet was bright and soft.</p> - -<p>Richard ate and read unmindful of the -wrestling match between a bow-legged pug -and a saucy black-and-tan, whose little sharp<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Page 192]</span> -ears stood stiffly erect, expressive of cool -amusement at the fat pug’s futile attempts to -throw him.</p> - -<p>As Richard pushed his chair back and -lighted a cigarette, a man-servant entered -quietly and put a large envelope and a smaller -one on the table before him. Richard took the -larger envelope and read the superscription.</p> - -<div style="border: dotted;margin-left: 37%;margin-right: 37%;margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; "> - <ul style="list-style-type: none;text-align: left; "> - <li style="text-indent: 1em; "> - To - </li> - <li> - RICHARD TREADWELL, ESQ<sup>RE.</sup> - </li> - <li style="float: right;margin-right: 5em;font-style: italic; "> - PERSONAL. - </li> - <li style="text-indent: 1em; "> - <span class="smcap">From</span> - </li> - <li style="text-indent:2em; "> - <span class="smcap">Tolman Bike.</span> - </li> - </ul> -</div> - -<p>He hastily tore it open with his thumb. -The letter began without any preliminaries:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>In writing this I place my life at your -disposal. I neither expect mercy nor ask it.</p> - -<p>I have been so wretched for days that -life is a burden I little care to bear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Page 193]</span></p> - -<p>Do what you please with this, but if you -possess an unheard-of generosity I would ask -you, after clearing yourself, to spare me as -much as possible.</p> -</div> - -<p>“My wild, improbable suspicions were -correct!” Dick exclaimed, in surprise. The -black-and-tan, hearing his voice, came and -jumped inquiringly against his knee, but -receiving no attention returned to finish the -English Kilrain on the rug.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>I first met Lucille Williams when she came -to my office in answer to my advertisement -for a typewriter and stenographer. Of the -many who applied I selected her. Not because -she was the most proficient worker, but for a -man’s reason.</p> - -<p>She had a pretty face.</p> - -<p>Wonderfully pretty, I have had men tell -me. She had large, clear blue eyes and an -abundance of wavy black hair, and a faultless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Page 194]</span> -pink and white complexion that often accompanies -the combination. Her hands were -small and slender. She was particular in the -care of them, and her remarkably small feet -were always well shod.</p> - -<p>Life is dull at best during business hours, -so I amused myself with my pretty typewriter. -It started first by my playfully putting -my arm around her chair when dictating. -Harmless enough. Yes, but it brought me so -close to her that I began to wonder what she -would do if I kissed her. When I stopped in -my dictation she raised her great, blue, alluring -eyes to me in such a way, that I wouldn’t have -been a man had I not felt a little thrill of -temptation.</p> - -<p>I did kiss her at last.</p> - -<p>She was not much offended. She cried a -little and wanted to know what she had done -that encouraged me to insult her. Her chief -fault was vanity, so I pleased myself and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Page 195]</span> -comforted her by taking her in my arms and -vowing that the sight of her red lips so close, -and her great eyes, so alluring and entrancing, -was more than I could resist. It comforted -her and pleased me.</p> - -<p>Yes, I said something of love.</p> - -<p>It somehow seemed the only thing to say -under the circumstances. I think I called her -“My Love,” and similar names. I am positive -I did not say that I loved her, although -I recall coaxing her to say she loved me.</p> - -<p>She said she loved me and I believed -her.</p> - -<p>It was all very pretty and interesting while -it had the charm of newness. We soon spent -our evenings together. I took her to restaurants -patronized by Bohemia, where, if one -happens across an acquaintance, he, on a similar -errand, is just as anxious to keep it a secret -as you are. In the summer, when there was -less chance of embarrassing meetings, I took<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Page 196]</span> -her to better places and occasionally to the -theatre.</p> - -<p>I found it interesting.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, I learned that Lucille’s sister -was employed in the factory, and I threatened -Lucille with an eternal parting if, by any -chance, her family learned of our intimacy. -When the pretence of seeing friends and persons -about business would no longer serve as -a blind, I instructed Lucille to say she was -engaged on extra work. She very sensibly -said she could not do this without money to -show for it, so I promptly made it possible. -Thereafter that was her blind.</p> - -<p>Thus she deceived her family.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile I thought I would feel more -comfortable if Lucille were better dressed. -You know how men feel on this subject. -Most of them would rather be seen in company -with the lowest woman in New York -if she wore a Paris gown, than with a woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Page 197]</span> -in rags, even if she were as pure as a saint. -A man is always afraid of being chaffed for -being with a badly dressed woman.</p> - -<p>For the world, looking on, judges only by -the dress.</p> - -<p>I spoke to Lucille. I found she was as -sensitive about her cheap garments as I was, -so I told her if she would buy an entire outfit -suitable for our wanderings I would pay for it. -I made suggestions, and the garments she -bought were as lady-like and appropriate -as if it had been an every-day affair with -her.</p> - -<p>Then came the question, Where to send -the clothes?</p> - -<p>She could not send them home, for her -mother and sister, though poor, had Puritan -ideas concerning morals and propriety.</p> - -<p>There is a way out of every difficulty.</p> - -<p>I had her send all her new articles to my -bachelor apartment. Then I gave her a key,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Page 198]</span> -so she could enter my rooms at any time to -change her cheap clothing for her new and -vice versa.</p> - -<p>So I got her to my rooms.</p> - -<p>I don’t deny that it was my intention at -first to finally take her there, but I wanted to -preserve the sentiment of the affair as long as -possible. She was very perfect to the sight, -very lovable, and I was eager for our evenings—anxious -to drip out as slowly as possible -the intoxication of the affair, still breathlessly -eager to drain the cup.</p> - -<p>There is no need of going into detail.</p> - -<p>You know what bachelor apartments are; -you know what opportunities they afford. Lucille -was timid at first; afraid to come in or go -out, but she soon grew bolder. She even -grew to like the danger of it.</p> - -<p>I was very fond of her then.</p> - -<p>There is no use to be hypocritical and cry -it was love of her that led me on. Why men<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Page 199]</span> -adopt such weak pleas, I never could understand.</p> - -<p>It was not love of her.</p> - -<p>A man never injures a woman through love -of her, but through love of self. I realized -this all the time, but I was passionately happy, -and happiness is not so plentiful that I should -slight it, result as it might.</p> - -<p>I promised to marry her.</p> - -<p>It happened in a moment when I loved her -best. I knew at the time, I was doing a reckless -thing. The next day I warned her to -keep our love secret, because there were reasons -why, if it were known, it would be injurious -to me. She, appreciating the difference -between us, was as silent as I could be.</p> - -<p>By and by things began to pall.</p> - -<p>I was too well acquainted with her. I -grew tired of her pretty face. Her little vulgarities -exasperated me. She was a woman of -such little variety, and she so weakly bowed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Page 200]</span> -every demand I made that it became unbearable.</p> - -<p>I have known homely women whose charms -were more lasting.</p> - -<p>Her weakness maddened me. I grew to -hate her. If she had only had enough spirit -to quarrel with me, but that was the secret of -it; she had no spirit until it was too late.</p> - -<p>Just before this I met Miss Chamberlain. -I found that I had pleased her fancy and I -concluded to marry.</p> - -<p>It mattered little that I was not in love; I -had long since learned that love was merely -the effect of some pleasing sensation, which -some persons, like some music, produce on us, -that shortly wears itself out.</p> - -<p>I thought it better to marry where there -was no feeling than where there was. For the -sensation of love is sure to die, leaving an unsupportable -weariness caused by its own -emotion. Where there is no such feeling, -there is no such result to fear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Page 201]</span></p> - -<p>I never expected any trouble from Lucille.</p> - -<p>But I reckoned without my host. Although -I endeavored to keep my engagement -secret, yet a line to the effect that I was to -marry Miss Chamberlain, reached print. Lucille, -though hardly in society, always read -society notes. She read that one.</p> - -<p>She became a tigress—a devil. Isn’t it -queer that a weak woman always has an ungovernable -temper? Expecting nothing more -than a few tears from her, I answered carelessly, -and she grew infuriated. Of course, I was -astonished. She accused me of falseness and -demanded that I deny the report over my own -name and marry her immediately, or she would -seek Miss Chamberlain and lay before her -what she pleased to call my baseness.</p> - -<p>I was determined to marry.</p> - -<p>It meant wealth, a better social position, -power, and a wife that at least I would be -proud of. I had cherished such an idea of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Page 202]</span> -marriage since I was a boy, and I was resolved -that nothing should balk me now that it was -in my grasp.</p> - -<p>I was determined to take fate into my own -hands.</p> - -<p>Finding I could not quiet Lucille, I concluded -to rid myself of all responsibility in her -case.</p> - -<p>Call me base if you will!</p> - -<p>Was I doing more than hundreds of men -are doing in New York to-day!</p> - -<p>Had I done more than hundreds—aye, -thousands—of men have done in New York?</p> - -<p>You are a man of education and means; -denounce me if you have never sinned likewise.</p> - -<p>Let any New York man of education, -leisure and money denounce me, if any there -are who have not likewise blundered.</p> - -<p>It was only a matter of a few days’ amusement, -harmless if it ended quietly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Page 203]</span></p> - -<p>But I slipped up on it—therein lies the sin. -Not in what I did, but in blundering over it.</p> - -<p>People may say what they will. I was not -wrong. It is the system that is wrong, the -system that prevents people who care for each -other from being happy in that affection while -it lasts. Had the system been different -Lucille would have been home to-day, happier -and in more comfortable circumstances than -previous to our meeting, and I—I would not -now be writing to you.</p> - -<p>But there was nothing to save us.</p> - -<p>Tired and disgusted with Lucille, she -further exasperated me with her jealousy and -unreasonable demands for a speedy marriage. -Fearful of losing the marriage which meant so -much to me, I carefully planned what seemed -the only course to pursue.</p> - -<p>Yes, it was deliberate.</p> - -<p>Calming her anger for the day, I persuaded -her to come to my apartment—these very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Page 204]</span> -rooms where I sit and quietly write this confession -of my crime.</p> - -<p>Unsuspecting, aye, even gladly she came—came -to meet her fate, which waited for her -like a spider in his entangling web for a fly.</p> -</div> - -<p>“If you please, sir, Miss Howard’s compliments, -and would you come up as soon as -possible,” said a voice at the door.</p> - -<p>The little black-and-tan paused for a moment, -with the pug’s ear still between his little -sharp teeth, to see where the voice came from, -and Richard responded, impatiently: “Very -well, say I’ll be there,” and returned to Tolman -Bike’s letter.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Page 205]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI"> - CHAPTER XVI.<br> - <small>THE MYSTERY SOLVED.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>The mockery of the thing amused me.</p> - -<p>I knew so well how it was to end, and -when Lucille came cheerfully to me, never -thinking but that she would return to her -home that night, I laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>She wanted to talk about my promise of -marriage, and I readily consented. In very -few words I gave her to understand that it -was impossible for me to marry her in her present -condition, but if she would be guided by -my judgment, and bought suitable clothing, we -could then go away and be quietly married. -To do this it was necessary that she remain -with me.</p> - -<p>She was more than satisfied.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Page 206]</span></p> - -<p>She was elated over her brilliant prospects. -Still she was stubbornly determined to notify -her family, and only by threatening to abandon -the whole affair if it became known did I -keep her from doing so. I did, however, consent -to her writing a note saying she had gone -out of town for a few weeks, and on her return -would have a joyful surprise for them. It -satisfied her and did not hurt me.</p> - -<p>The letter was never mailed.</p> - -<p>Lucille’s presence was not unknown to -some few. My servant, who slept at home, -knew I had somebody with me, but as he had -served many years in taking care of bachelor -apartments, he was neither surprised nor -inquisitive. The waiters who served our meals -knew I was not alone, but to them, also, it was -a story too old to merit comment. Still I -took precautions that they should not see -Lucille.</p> - -<p>In the garments I had bought her I sent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Page 207]</span> -Lucille to a dressmakers to get her measurements. -I also sent her to a dentist to have -some decaying teeth filled, and so I started to -work out my release from a woman of whom I -had tired.</p> - -<p>You might say that I could have taken a -more simple way. I don’t see how. I was -afraid of losing my wealthy fiancée and so I -would not risk the least chance of Lucille’s -telling. Of course I could have claimed blackmail -and been declared innocent, yet, knowing -the nature of the woman I was hoping to -marry, I would not risk the effect it would -have on her.</p> - -<p>There seemed only one thing to do, and I -did it. I had Lucille write an order for a dress, -from my dictation, inclosing the measurements -and stating that it would be called for on a -certain date. Personally I went to different -stores and bought the garments necessary to -make a perfect outfit. I did not spare<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Page 208]</span> -expense. I brought everything home with me -in the coupé. This relieved me of necessity of -giving any address or name, which made me -feel sure the articles could not be traced to -their destination.</p> - -<p>During this time Lucille was very happy, -notwithstanding her imprisonment. She was -constantly planning what she would do when -we were married. She dwelt in delight on the -sensation her marriage would create among -those who knew her. She discussed the localities -most suitable for us to live in, and talked -of things she intended to buy for her house -and the dresses she meant to get.</p> - -<p>It is useless to try to describe the emotions -I labored under during those days. I was -conscious of a tiredness, underlaid with a -stolid determination not to be balked in my -purpose. I felt no sympathy for Lucille. I -think I was absolutely without feeling one way -or the other. I only felt a desire to laugh at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Page 209]</span> -her air castles as she told them to me. Not -amused—no. I can’t say what the feeling -was. Even when she lay awake some nights -and I knew she was painting her future, I -laughed aloud at the strangeness of it all.</p> - -<p>I counted the nights. Every one found -my preparations nearer completion.</p> - -<p>Carefully I removed all trade marks and -names from every garment I had bought her. -The gloves and <em>Suéde</em> shoes only bore their -size. I took the crown lining out of the hat, -and before I brought her dress home I removed -the inside belt, which was stamped with the -name of the man who made it.</p> - -<p>The dress was the last article but one I -brought to my apartment. I did not even -show myself at the establishment where the -gown was made. I drove near the place, and, -hiring a messenger boy, sent him in for the -garment. In this way I preserved the secret -of my identity.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Page 210]</span></p> - -<p>The last thing I bought was a bottle of -hair bleaching fluid. I told Lucille that if her -hair was golden to match her eyes I thought -her appearance would be much improved. -She was quite anxious to make the test, always -being ready to do anything she thought would -increase her beauty. For two days, at different -intervals, I brushed her hair with the fluid, -and it turned the most perfect golden shade -I had ever seen.</p> - -<p>It really transformed her. I have since -then marvelled at the change and have felt an -admiration for her perfect beauty. Then I -felt nothing.</p> - -<p>I only had a desire to watch her. I -watched her eat and wondered at her appetite. -I listened to her light talk and marvelled at -her happiness. I gazed at her while she slept, -amazed, almost, at her evident sense of -security.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Page 211]</span></p> - -<p>Why did nothing warn her? I waited and -watched for some sign that would show that -instinct felt the approaching end. There was -no sign.</p> - -<p>The last night, I leaned on my elbow and -watched her sleep. She looked so perfect! -Her soft, dimpled arms thrown above her head, -her pretty face in a nest of golden hair, her -straight black brows, her long, black lashes -resting lightly on her pink cheeks, and all to -become nothing—nothing. To-morrow night -it would be over; this was her last night. -Impulsively I leaned over her and whispered -“Lucille! Lucille!” but she merely opened her -great blue eyes, and giving me a little smile, -as innocent and sweet as a babies, moved with -a sigh of perfect content close to my arm, -which rested on the pillow, and so went to -sleep again.</p> - -<p>I lay down and tried to still the heavy,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Page 212]</span> -painful beating of my heart. I was very -weary, but I could not sleep.</p> - -<p>At breakfast something kept saying, “Her -last! her last!” and it gratified me to see her -eat. At luncheon she complained of no appetite, -yet I almost compelled her to eat, while -I ate nothing. During the day I told my -servant to take a holiday, that I would be out -of town and he could have several days to -spend as he wished. Rid of him, I ordered a -dinner fit for a wedding feast; still I could not -eat. Lucille ate and I helped her joyfully. I -had a desire to see her happy. I have thought -the jailer who feasts the condemned prisoner -an hour before the execution must feel as I -felt this day.</p> - -<p>Late in the evening I laid her new garments, -the finery that so delighted her, out on -the bed. I laughed when I did it, and then I -sat down and watched her dress. She was as -happy as a child. She put on one thing after<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Page 213]</span> -the other, surveying each addition in the mirror -with little cries of delight. I laced her -<em>Suéde</em> shoes and helped fasten her dress and -buttoned her gloves. When all was done I -wrapped her in a gray travelling cloak and hid -her pretty face under a thick veil.</p> - -<p>I had told her we would take the midnight -train for Buffalo, where we would be married, -and remain at Niagara for a few days before -our return to New York. She trusted me -in everything, and asked me if she could -increase her wardrobe before the time for our -return. We were to start early enough to -permit us to take a drive before going to the -station. Lucille had been confined so long -in the house that she welcomed this arrangement, -and she was very eager and nervous to -start.</p> - -<p>I had ordered my horse and dog-cart to be -ready at a certain hour. I had a liking for -late drives, so my orders were not considered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Page 214]</span> -unusual. I walked out of the house, first telling -Lucille to lock the door and walk around -the corner on Fifth Avenue, where I would get -her.</p> - -<p>Before starting, however, I asked Lucille -to drink a glass of wine with me. I put in -hers a sleeping potion, and she raised it to -her lips, saying:</p> - -<p>“Here’s to our happiness.”</p> - -<p>I put my wine down untasted.</p> - -<p>Then she came to me in an affectionate -way I had once admired, and raising her veil, -said:</p> - -<p>“Tolman, kiss your little one.”</p> - -<p>I folded her in my arms. My heart beat -quickly, my breath came painfully. I held her -close to my breast, I kissed her soft, warm, -lips regretfully.</p> - -<p>“Lucille,” I said, pleadingly, “will you go -back to your home and forget you wanted to -be my wife?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Page 215]</span></p> - -<p>“I would rather die,” she answered me, -angrily.</p> - -<p>I knew then it was too late. There was -no way to retreat. Either I must accomplish -my purpose, or renounce all claim to Miss -Chamberlain and take Lucille as my wife.</p> - -<p>“We have been very happy these two -weeks, haven’t we, Tolman?” she said, with -her arms about my neck. “Kiss your little -one good-by, for when she comes back here she -will be your wife.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, when you come back,” I said, and I -kissed her. With that there flitted through -my mind a picture of a little quiet home with -her as my wife. I thought of her beauty, but -then came the thought that it would cost me -what I most longed for—wealth—position. -No, it was too late.</p> - -<p>I drove to the curb almost the instant she -had reached there, and only stopped long -enough to get her in. I had a valise, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Page 216]</span> -Lucille thought contained a change of clothing, -in the dog-cart. I drove off quickly to the -Park.</p> - -<p>We had not more than entered the Park -when Lucille yawned and complained of -feeling drowsy. I drove on, listening intently -for any sounds that would indicate the presence -of any one. Reaching a bend in the -road and finding everything still, I asked -Lucille to hold the reins until I could get out -to see if something was not amiss with the -harness.</p> - -<p>Drowsily she took the reins.</p> - -<p>“Do you see anything coming, Lucille?” -I asked, as I reached under the seat and, -drawing out a sandbag which I had made ready -in advance and concealed there, I rose to my -feet as though to jump out of the buggy.</p> - -<p>“No, Tolman; the way looks clear,” she -replied, slowly, as she leaned forward to -look.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Page 217]</span></p> - -<p>With a swift motion I raised the sandbag -and brought it down on her head.</p> - -<p>She never uttered a sound, but fell across -the side of the cart. I caught her with one -hand and, taking the reins from her limp fingers, -steadied the horse.</p> - -<p>I took her in my arms to the nearest -bench. I listened for her heart-beats. They -were still. I removed the Connemara cloak -and veil. I had some difficulty, but at last -managed to place her in an upright position -on the bench. Then I folded her hands in -her lap, and as I could not make her parasol -stay on her knee, I left it where it fell on the -ground before her.</p> - -<p>I kissed her lips, still warm and soft, -and closing her eyes, pulled her hat down -so it would prevent their opening. Taking -the wrap and veil and putting them and the -sandbag in the valise I drove back to the -stable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Page 218]</span></p> - -<p>I returned to my rooms and spent the -remainder of the night in destroying all the -clothing which belonged to her. Early in the -morning, just about daybreak, I went quietly -out and to the Gilsey House, where I got a -room and went to bed. I slept. It was -afternoon when I awoke, and while eating my -breakfast I read in the first edition of an evening -paper an account of your finding Lucille’s -body in Central Park.</p> - -<p>In the smaller envelope I enclose a photograph -of Lucille taken before her hair was -bleached. You will doubtless recognize it. -I also inclose the letter she wrote to her -mother.</p> - -<p>You can understand now why I was frightened -at the sight of Maggie Williams’s tears; -why I was horrified when I met in the Hoffman -House the man who was suspected of -being guilty of my crime. My guilty fears -prevented my giving you my name, and when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Page 219]</span> -you came to my apartment, seeking Lucille, I -knew that my hour had come.</p> - -<p>I might have given you a fight and warded -off the end for a while. But what use. If the -proof was not conclusive enough to hang me, -it was enough to imprison me, for the waiters, -my servant and the livery-man could have -made out a case of circumstantial evidence. I -prefer death.</p> - -<p>It is morning. The morning of the day -which was to have been my wedding day. Oh -God, I had some wild hope when I began this -confession. It has gone now. This is all. If -you have any charity in your soul, spare me -all you can.</p> - -<p style="margin-right: 2em;text-align: right; "> - TOLMAN BIKE. -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 2em;margin-bottom: .2em; "> - <span class="smcap">North Washington Square</span>, -</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 4em;margin-top: .2em; "> - <i>June Seventh</i>, 18—. -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Page 220]</span></p> - - <h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII"> - CHAPTER XVII.<br> - <small>SUNLIGHT THROUGH THE CLOUDS.</small> - </h2> -</div> - - -<p>Richard could hardly dress quickly enough -after he finished Tolman Bike’s letter. The -indolent young man had never been seen in -such frantic haste. The elevator seemed to -him to creep. Rushing out to the street, he -jumped into the first cab, telling the driver to -make the best possible speed to Fifth Avenue.</p> - -<p>With a sad, penitent face, Penelope Howard -was impatiently awaiting her handsome -lover in her own little room, her abject apologies -all cut and dried for use. But he gave -her no time.</p> - -<p>“Penelope, the mystery is solved!” he -yelled, and catching her in his strong arms, he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Page 221]</span> -held her so close to his heart that she gasped -for breath.</p> - -<p>“I’ve the story right here, sweetheart,” and -in the fewest possible words, punctuated with -Penelope’s exclamations of surprise and sorrow, -Richard related all that had happened -since the night before she went to Washington.</p> - -<p>“My dear—Oh, Richard. Good morning,” -said Penelope’s aunt, as she entered the room -with bonnet on and a carriage-wrap thrown -hastily over a house dress. “Mrs. Chamberlain -has sent for me. They have just received -news that Clara’s fiancée, Mr. Bike, was found -dead in his bathroom, shot through the head. -They think it was accidental, and poor Clara, -who was to have been a bride this evening, is -prostrated. I’ll be back presently, dear. Richard -stay with the child.”</p> - -<p>They let her go without a word of the information -they possessed, and, oblivious to all -else, they read Tolman Bike’s confession.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Page 222]</span> -Woman-like, Penelope was in tears, and had as -much pity for the unhappy man as for the -luckless girl.</p> - -<p>“I knew he was the man,” Richard said. -“When the messenger boy pointed out the -man in the Hoffman House as looking like the -man who got the gown, the resemblance struck -me, though this man was fair and Tolman Bike -was dark. The moment the resemblance -struck me, the whole thing flashed before my -mind. My ridiculous remark that probably -the man was bleached, suggested to me the -possibility of Maggie’s sister having bleached -after she left home. Still, it was all so wild -and improbable that I tried not to think of it.”</p> - -<p>They decided only to tell the secret of the -crime to those most concerned. That done, -they effectually saved the name of Tolman -Bike from deeper disgrace, little as he deserved -it.</p> - -<p>When Mrs. Van Brunt returned from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Page 223]</span> -house where the preparations for wedding festivities -had been turned into arrangements for -a funeral, Penelope, with her eyes red from -weeping, drew her aunt into her own little den -where Richard was. Together they told the -astonished woman the story of the crime, and -she was more determined even than they were -that the confession should be held sacred, since -making it public could benefit no one, and -would only serve to hurt the family who had -expected to welcome him into their home as -the husband of the daughter of the house.</p> - -<p>They had intended to visit Maggie Williams -that day and tell her the story of her -sister, but Mrs. Van Brunt, more thoughtful, -told them to delay the sad information until -the girl was married, as Richard had told them -of her intended marriage Sunday.</p> - -<p>Tolman Bike was privately buried Sunday -from the Chamberlain mansion, while the girl -who was to have been his bride, lay unconscious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Page 224]</span> -in a darkened room upstairs. Mrs. Van -Brunt, as an old and intimate friend of Mrs. -Chamberlain, went to the funeral. Penelope -went with her aunt, her heart divided in sympathy -for the dead man, the dead girl, and the -stricken daughter of the Chamberlain household. -If Tolman Bike had lived, Penelope -would have hated him for his crime, but -because he had strength to die, and when she -pictured his lonely end, she felt sorry for his -wretched fate.</p> - -<p>Sunday evening they visited Maggie Williams, -now Mrs. Martin Shanks, and Penelope -gently told them the story of the Mystery of -Central Park, omitting as much as possible -that would pain the sister. Rough, but kindly -Martin Shanks comforted his bride. Dido -Morgan mingled her tears with Maggie’s, but -she was shy and awkward, having little to say -in the presence of Penelope Howard, though<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Page 225]</span> -Penelope did her utmost to be cordial and considerate.</p> - -<p>The warm, frank feeling that had heretofore -existed between Dido and Dick was gone. -Dick endeavored to be friendly and pleasant, -but Dido maintained a stiff silence that made -him have a sense of relief when he and -Penelope finally took their departure.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Penelope, it’s true, as Tolman Bike -said, happiness is not so plentiful in life that -we can afford to let it slip by when near our -grasp,” Richard said, sadly, as he and Penelope -drove homeward. Penelope merely sighed in -response.</p> - -<p>“I did not solve the mystery as you -expected and wished,” he continued, taking -her hand in his, “still I object to being cheated -of my happiness. When are you going to -marry me?”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” Penelope tried to say in playful -surprise, but her hand trembled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Page 226]</span></p> - -<p>“This is the tenth. I will give you until -the twenty-first to make what little preparations -you need for the wedding,” Richard said, -masterfully, yet tenderly.</p> - -<p>“Oh! If you talk that way I suppose I -must meekly obey,” Penelope said, as, with a -sigh of content, she allowed Dick to take her -in his arms.</p> - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 6em;font-size: .8em;font-weight: bold; "> - THE END. -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Page 227]</span></p> - <h3>G. W. DILLINGHAM, Successor.</h3> -</div> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">1889.</td> -<td class="tdr">1889.</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="03" style="max-width: 25em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/03.jpg" alt="Publisher"> - <figcaption class="caption"><p class="center"><span class="smcap">G. W. Carleton & Co.</span></p></figcaption> -</figure> -<p> - -<p class="center">NEW BOOKS</p> -<p class="center">AND NEW EDITIONS,</p> -<p class="center">RECENTLY ISSUED BY</p> -<p class="center">G. W. DILLINGHAM, Publisher,</p> -<p class="center">Successor to <span class="smcap">G. W. Carleton & Co.</span>,</p> -<p class="center">33 West 23d Street, New York.</p> - -<p class="center">The Publisher on receipt of price, will send any book<br> -on this Catalogue by mail, <em>postage free</em>.</p> - -<p class="center">All handsomely bound in cloth, with gilt backs suitable for libraries.</p> - -<h4>Mary J. Holmes’ Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Tempest and Sunshine</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>English Orphans</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Homestead on the Hillside</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>’Lena Rivers</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Meadow Brook</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Dora Deane</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Cousin Maude</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Marian Grey</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Edith Lyle</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Daisy Thornton</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Chateau D’Or</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Queenie Hetherton</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Bessie’s Fortune</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Darkness and Daylight</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Hugh Worthington</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Cameron Pride</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Rose Mather</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Ethelyn’s Mistake</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Millbank</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Edna Browning</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>West Lawn</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Mildred</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Forrest House</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Madeline</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Christmas Stories</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Gretchen. (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Marion Harland’s Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Alone</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Hidden Path</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Moss Side</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Nemesis</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Miriam</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Sunny Bank</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Ruby’s Husband</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>At Last</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>My Little Love</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Phemie’s Temptation</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Empty Heart</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>From My Youth Up</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Helen Gardner</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Husbands and Homes</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Jessamine</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>True as Steel. (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>A. S. Roe’s Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>True to the Last</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Long Look Ahead</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Star and the Cloud</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>I’ve Been Thinking</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>How Could He Help It</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>To Love and To Be Loved</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Time and Tide</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Woman Our Angel</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Looking Around</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Cloud on the Heart</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Augusta J. Evans’ Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Beulah</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 75</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Macaria</td> -<td class="tdr">1 75</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Inez</td> -<td class="tdr">1 75</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>At the Mercy of Tiberius. (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">2 00</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>St. Elmo</td> -<td class="tdr">2 00</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Vashti</td> -<td class="tdr">2 00</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Infelice</td> -<td class="tdr">2 00</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Page 228]</span> - -<h4>May Agnes Fleming’s Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Guy Earlscourt’s Wife</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Wonderful Woman</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Terrible Secret</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Mad Marriage</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Norine’s Revenge</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>One Night’s Mystery</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Kate Danton</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Silent and True</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Maude Percy’s Secret</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Midnight Queen. (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Heir of Charlton</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Carried by Storm</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Lost for a Woman</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Wife’s Tragedy</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Changed Heart</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Pride and Passion</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Sharing Her Crime</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Wronged Wife</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Actress Daughter</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Queen of the Isle</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Allan Pinkerton’s Works.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Expressmen and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Mollie Maguires and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Somnambulists and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Claude Melnotte and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Criminal Reminiscences, etc</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Rail-Road Forger, etc</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Bank Robbers and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Double Life. (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Gypsies and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Spiritualists and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Model Town and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Strikers, Communists, etc</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Mississippi Outlaws, etc</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Bucholz and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Burglar’s Fate and Detectives</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Bertha Clay’s Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Thrown on the World</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Bitter Atonement</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Love Works Wonders</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Evelyn’s Folly</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Under a Shadow</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Beyond Pardon</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Earl’s Atonement</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Woman’s Temptation</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Repented at Leisure</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Struggle for a Ring</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Lady Damer’s Secret</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Between Two Loves</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Put Asunder. (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>“New York Weekly” Series.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Brownie’s Triumph—Sheldon</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Forsaken Bride. do</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Earl Wayne’s Nobility. do</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Lost, a Pearle— do</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Young Mrs. Charnleigh—Henshew</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>His Other Wife—Ashleigh</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Woman’s Web—Maitland</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Curse of Everleigh—Pierce</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Peerless Cathleen—Agnew</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Faithful Margaret—Ashmore</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Nick Whiffles—Robinson</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Grinder Papers—Dallas</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Lady Lenora—Conklin</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Stella Rosevelt—Sheldon. (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Miriam Coles Harris’ Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Rutledge</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Louie’s Last Term, St. Mary’s</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Sutherlands</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Frank Warrington</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Ernest Renan’s French Works.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>The Life of Jesus. Translated</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 75</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Lives of the Apostles. do</td> -<td class="tdr">1 75</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Life of St. Paul. Translated</td> -<td class="tdr">1 75</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Bible in India—By Jacolliot</td> -<td class="tdr">2 00</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Julie P. Smith’s Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Widow Goldsmith’s Daughter</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Chris and Otho</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Ten Old Maids</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Lucy</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>His Young Wife</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Widower</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>The Married Belle</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Courting and Farming</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Kiss and be Friends</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Blossom Bud (New)</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Artemas Ward.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Complete Comic Writings—With Biography, Portrait and 50 illustrations</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>The Game of Whist.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Pole on Whist—The English Standard Work. With the “Portland Rules”</td> -<td class="tdr">$0 75</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Victor Hugo’s Great Novel.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Les Miserables—Translated from the French. The only complete edition</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Mrs. Hill’s Cook Book.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Mrs. A. P. Hill’s New Southern Cookery Book, and domestic receipts</td> -<td class="tdr">$2 00</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<h4>Celia E. Gardner’s Novels.</h4> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>Stolen Waters. (In verse)</td> -<td class="tdr">$1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Broken Dreams. do</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Compensation. do</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Twisted Skein. do</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Tested</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Rich Medway</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A Woman’s Wiles</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Terrace Roses</td> -<td class="tdr">1 50</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Page 229]</span> - - <h3>BEST NOVELS BY BEST AUTHORS.</h3> -</div> - -<p class="center">MADISON SQUARE SERIES.</p> - -<p class="center" style="font-style: italic;">PRICE 25 CENTS EACH.</p> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">1.</td> -<td class="tdl">ALONE</td> -<td class="tdl">By Marion Harland.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">2.</td> -<td class="tdl">GUY EARLSCOURT’S WIFE</td> -<td class="tdl">By May Agnes Fleming.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">3.</td> -<td class="tdl">TRUE AS STEEL</td> -<td class="tdl">By Marion Harland.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">4.</td> -<td class="tdl">TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE</td> -<td class="tdl">By Mary J. Holmes.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">5.</td> -<td class="tdl">A WONDERFUL WOMAN</td> -<td class="tdl">By May Agnes Fleming.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">6.</td> -<td class="tdl">MADAME</td> -<td class="tdl">By Frank Lee Benedict.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">7.</td> -<td class="tdl">THE HIDDEN PATH</td> -<td class="tdl">By Marion Harland.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">8.</td> -<td class="tdl">A TERRIBLE SECRET</td> -<td class="tdl">By May Agnes Fleming.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">9.</td> -<td class="tdl">’LENA RIVERS</td> -<td class="tdl">By Mary J. Holmes.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">10.</td> -<td class="tdl">WARWICK</td> -<td class="tdl">By M. T. Walworth.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">11.</td> -<td class="tdl">A MAD MARRIAGE</td> -<td class="tdl">By May Agnes Fleming.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">12.</td> -<td class="tdl">HOTSPUR</td> -<td class="tdl">By M. T. Walworth.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">13.</td> -<td class="tdl">HER FRIEND</td> -<td class="tdl">By Frank Lee Benedict.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">14.</td> -<td class="tdl">THE ENGLISH ORPHANS</td> -<td class="tdl">By Mary J. Holmes.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">15.</td> -<td class="tdl">A WIFE’S TRAGEDY</td> -<td class="tdl">By May Agnes Fleming.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">16.</td> -<td class="tdl">DOCTOR ANTONIO</td> -<td class="tdl">By Ruffini.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">17.</td> -<td class="tdl">SUNNYBANK</td> -<td class="tdl">By Marion Harland.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">18.</td> -<td class="tdl">HAMMER AND ANVIL</td> -<td class="tdl">By Frank Lee Benedict.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">No.</td> -<td class="tdr">19.</td> -<td class="tdl">MARIAN GREY</td> -<td class="tdl">By Mary J. Holmes.</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="r5"> - -<figure class="figleft illowp100" id="04" style="max-width: 5.375em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/04.jpg" alt="pointing hand"> -</figure> - -<p>They are the handsomest 25 cent books in the market, and sell -much more rapidly than any paper-bound books published.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Page 230]</span></p> - - <h3>BOOKS WORTH READING.</h3> -</div> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td>THOU SHALT NOT,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Albert Ross.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>HIS PRIVATE CHARACTER,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Albert Ross.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>A MARRIAGE BELOW ZERO,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Alan Dale.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>AN EERIE HE AND SHE,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Alan Dale.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>THE MYSTERY OF CENTRAL PARK,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Nellie Bly.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>THE DEVIL AND I,</td> -<td class="tdr">By ?</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>THE SALE OF MRS. ADRAL,</td> -<td class="tdr">By F. H. Costellow.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>HIS WIFE OR HIS WIDOW,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Marie Walsh.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>DEBORAH DEATH,</td> -<td class="tdr">By ?</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>AN ERRAND GIRL,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Evelyn Kimball Johnson.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>ROCKS AND SHOALS,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Bella French Swisher.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>ZARAILLA,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Beulah.</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>KATHIE,</td> -<td class="tdr">By Anna Oldfield Wiggs.</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p class="center">The above splendid novels are sold everywhere -for 50 cents each, or sent by the -publisher by mail, postage paid, on receipt -of the price.</p> - -<figure class="figleft illowp94" id="05" style="max-width: 6.25em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/05.jpg" alt="colophon"> -</figure> - -<p class="center">G. W. 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