Jack Harkaways Boy Tinker Among The Turks | Page 5

me, now," he moaned, as he caught sight of his
master.

"No; but I shall," retorted the assassin.
And he took a deliberate aim with the pistol.
"I expected this," said Chivey, faintly; "but remember murder is a
hanging matter."
"I shall escape," retorted Murray, coldly.
"But you can't," said Chivey, with a grin of triumph, even as he
groaned.
There was something in his manner which made Murray uneasy.
"Twenty-four hours after I'm missing," gasped Chivey, "your forgery
will be in the hands of the police; they can get you back for forgery,
and while you're in the dock of the Old Bailey, if not before, to stand
your trial for forgery, they will have a clue to my murder."
His words caused Murray a singular thrill.
"What do you mean by that, traitor?" he demanded.
"Mean? Why, I know you too well to trust you. I tell you I have taken
every possible precaution," retorted Chivey, "so that you are safe only
while I live. I know my man too well not to take every precaution.
Now," he added, sinking back exhausted, "now, my young sweet and
pleasant, fire away."
Murray paused, and concealed his pistol.
Was it true about these precautions?
Chivey was vindictive as he was cunning.
He had shown this in every action.
"Supposing I spare you?" said Murray.

"You can't," retorted the tiger; "I'm done for."
"So much the better."
"So you say now," returned Chivey, his voice growing fainter and
fainter. "Wait and remember my words--I'll be revenged."
He gasped for breath.
Then all was still.
Was he dead?
Murray trembled with fear at the thought.
The words of the revengeful tiger rang in his ear.
And he strode away.
Silent and moody as befits one bearing the brand of Cain.
* * * *
Chivey was far from being as badly hurt as he at first appeared.
He had no bones broken, his worst injuries being a few bruises and a
very unpleasant shaking.
But Chivey was artful.
He thought it best to keep quiet until Herbert Murray should be gone.
Chivey struggled up on to his knees.
Then he began to crawl along the sand pit.
Progress was difficult at first.
But he persevered and got along in time.

"If these bruises would only let me think how further to act," he
muttered to himself, as groaning, he crawled back to the town.
"Señor Velasquez," he said to himself, as a happy thought crossed him.
"Señor Velasquez is my man for a million."
He paused to think over the ways and means, and a cunning smile
deepened on his face, as he gradually made up his mind.
"The worst of this is that I must have a confederate," muttered the
young schemer.
"No matter, there is only one way out of it, and I must make the best of
it."
Señor Velasquez was an obscure notary.
Chivey had made a chatting acquaintance with the notary in the town,
the Spaniard speaking English with tolerable proficiency.
"What is the nature of the secret you hold in terrorem over your
master?" demanded the notary, when Chivey at length reached his
office.
Chivey smiled.
"I said it was a secret, Mr. Velasquez," he answered.
"But if you seek my advice about that," the notary made reply, "I must
know all the particulars of the case."
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes."
"Why?"
"How can I advise if you keep me in the dark?"

Chivey leered at the Spanish notary and grinned.
"Don't you try and come the old soldier over me, please," he said.
"Old soldier?" said Señor Velasquez, in surprise.
"Yes."
"What is 'old soldier?' What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, sir, the artful."
"Is this English?" exclaimed the notary.
"Rather."
"Well, I confess I do not understand it."
"Then," said Chivey, getting quite cheerful as he warmed into the
matter, "I think your English education has been very seriously
neglected, that's what I think."
"Possibly," said the Spaniard. "I only learnt your tongue as a student,
and am not well grounded in slang."
"More's the pity."
There was a spice of contempt in Chivey's tone which appeared rather
to aggravate Señor Velasquez.
"You are too clever, Mr. Chivey," said he, "far too clever. Now you
want to keep your secret, and I shall guess that your secret
concerns----"
He paused.
"Who?" asked Chivey.
"The young man whose letters you employed me to intercept."

The tiger looked alarmed.
"I mean the young Señor Jack Harkaway."
Chivey looked about him rather anxiously.
"Don't be so imprudent, Señor Velasquez," he said. "You are a precious
dangerous party to have any thing to do with."
"Not I," returned Señor Velasquez; "I am easily dealt with. But those
who would deal with me must not be too cunning."
"You don't find nothing