Five Thousand Dollars Reward | Page 7

looking at. A big reward for the arrest of the murderer of poor Miss Vane. Did you notice it?"
"It's in all the papers. Do drive on, Andrew," pleaded the woman's voice again.
Then, seeing people gazing at them, she dropped her veil. Her companion, a heavily bearded man, seemed intent on gazing at the flaming reward poster.
"It's worth the trial," he muttered.
Then he lifted the reins, spoke to his horse, and was soon moving away.
"Who was it?"
This from the Yankee, who seemed unusually excited as he gazed after the moving carriage.
"It's Mr. Brown, I believe," answered Bordine. The gentleman had been but a short time in town, but as he spent money freely and drove a fast horse he had attracted attention, and the young engineer had heard his name mentioned freely by some of his friends.
"Brown?"
"From Denver."
"Is that so? Where does he hang out?"
"At the 'Golden Lion'."
Without speaking again the inquisitive Yankee hurried on. In a little time he sighted the carriage and its occupants. He followed at a respectful distance, and saw it halt in front of a small house in the suburbs.
The lady alighted.
"Now, Andrew--"
"Curse you! Why will you speak that name?" the man flung back, savagely. "Iris, you have been trouble enough to me, and I won't be dogged in this way."
"Dogged! Has not a wife a right to be with her husband?"
"Confound it, no! I will call on you to-night and have this matter settled--settled forever."
Then he wheeled his carriage and drove away. The woman, with veil down, remained standing at the gate for some time, watching the retreating carriage.
And the Yankee leaned against the trunk of a tree near, seemingly intent on watching a flock of sparrows near the gutter.
"It looks suspicious, anyhow," muttered the Yankee. "It would be strange enough if I should run upon Andrew Barkswell here--funny, indeed."
And the woman?
Her voice was suffused with tears as she murmured:
"Andrew, Andrew, how can you treat me so? I have sold my soul for your love, and now--now this is my reward! I feel that I shall die, yes, die, or--or go mad!"
She clasped her hands tightly, breathed hoarsely for a moment, then turned and reeled to the house. With a key she opened the door and entered; which fact convinced the Yankee that she was alone.
Slowly he shuffled down the walk and paused in front of the house.
It looked silent and gloomy enough, as though no human soul occupied the interior.
He was soon rapping at the front door. The woman he had seen enter answered.
Pushing his way in without ceremony, our Yankee friend seated himself, and removing his hat, began smoothing the crown with a greasy elbow.
"Well, sir," demanded the woman, "who are you, and what do you wish?"
"Specs, marm, specs," uttered the Yankee, grinning from ear to ear.
"Sir!"
"I've got 'em, a heap of the best specs sold in America."
Then the Yankee drew from an inner pocket a leather case, which he proceeded to open, displaying a lot of cheap spectacles.
"I kin fit old or young, rich or poor, fat or lean, I'm a ginooine malefactor o' the human race, a honor to my profession; in fact I'm an eye doctor, and if you've weak eyes, as I see you hav', let me--"
"Sir, it is useless; I want none of your wares," said the woman, tartly.
"Yeou look sick, madam."
"I want none of your wares I tell you."
"Law now--"
"Please go."
"But see here, mebbe yeou don't know who I be. I'm Jathom Green, from Goose Creek, down ter Vermount."
"But this is nothing to me I tell you."
The Yankee glanced carelessly, yet keenly, about the room. He noticed everything without seeming to do so. Folding up his spectacles, he finally returned them to his pocket and retired.
Just at dusk a man ran up the steps and opened the front door.
He did not resemble the man we have seen in the carriage some time before. He followed the woman at once to a back room, flung his elegantly clad frame into a chair, and gazed fixedly at the trim figure of the woman before him.
Producing a cigar he lit it before uttering a word.
A second figure stole up the steps and opened the door cautiously, tiptoeing down a narrow hall to the room occupied by the man and woman. The last comer was the Yankee, who had not been far from the vicinity during the afternoon.
Kneeling the Yankee peeped through the keyhole. He started then and came near uttering an exclamation.
"Now, sir, what have you to say regarding your conduct," demanded the woman, who, with hat and veil removed, was rather a pretty lady of medium size, although her white face and hollow eyes betokened much suffering.
"Nothing."
"Nothing? Oh, And--"
"Stop! Utter that name here and I will brain you," hissed the man, suddenly, furiously, half rising to his feet.
"What must