CHAPTER III.
THE EFFECT OF AN ADVERTISEMENT.
A rickety two-story frame building, in one of the worst quarters of thecity.
"He applies the match to the letter, and lets it fallfrom his fingers to the fire-place."--page 38.]
It is black with age, and guiltless of paint, but a careful observerwould note that the door is newer than the dwelling, and that it isremarkably solid, considering the tumble-down aspect of the structure itguards. The windows of the lower story are also new and substantial,such of them as serve for windows; but one would note that the twoimmediately facing the street are boarded up, and so tightly that notone ray of light can penetrate from without, nor shine from within.
The upper portion of the dwelling, however, has nothing of newness aboutit. The windows are almost without glass, but they bristle with rags andstraw, while the dilapidated appearance of the roof indicates that thisfloor is given over to the rats and the rain.
Entering at the stout front door, we find a large room, bare andcomfortless. There is a small stove, the most battered and rusty of itskind; two rickety chairs, and a high wooden stool; a shelf that supportsa tin cup, a black bottle, and a tallow candle; a sturdy legged dealtable, and a scrap of rag carpet, carefully outspread in the middle ofthe floor.
An open door, in one corner, discloses the way to the rat-haunted secondfloor. There are some dirty bundles and a pile of rags just behind thedoor; some pieces of rusty old iron are lying near a rear entrance, anda dismal-looking old man is seated on a pallet in one corner.
This is what would be noted by the casual observer, and this is all. Butthe old man and his dwelling are worthy of closer inspection.
He is small and lean, with narrow, stooping shoulders; a sallow, pinchedface, upon which rests, by turns, a fawning leer, which is intended,doubtless, for the blandest of smiles, a look of craftiness and greed, ascowl, or a sneer. His hair, which has been in past years of a decidedcarrot color, is now plentifully streaked with gray, and evidently thereis little affinity between the stubby locks and a comb. He is dirty,ragged, unshaven; and his age may be any where between fifty andseventy.
At the sound of a knock upon the outer door, he sits erect upon hispallet, a look of wild terror in his face: then, recovering himself, herises slowly and creeps softly toward the door. Wearing now his look ofcunning, he removes from a side panel a small pin, that is nicely fittedand comes out noiselessly, and peeps through the aperture thus made.
Then, with an exclamation of annoyance, he replaces the pin andhurriedly opens the door.
The woman who enters is a fitting mate for him, save that in height andbreadth, she is his superior; old and ugly, unkempt and dirty, with aface expressive of quite as much of cunning and greed, and more ofboldness and resolution, than his possesses.
"It's you, is it?" says the man, testily. "What has brought you back?and empty-handed I'll be bound."
The old woman crossed the floor, seated herself in the most reliablechair, and turning her face toward her companion said, sharply:
"You're an old fool!"
Not at all discomposed by this familiar announcement, the man closed andbarred the door, and then approached the woman, who was taking from herpocket a crumpled newspaper.
"What have you got there?"
"You wait," significantly, "and don't tell _me_ that I comeempty-handed."
"Ah! you don't mean--"
Again the look of terror crossed his face, and he left the sentenceunfinished.
"Old man, you _are_ a fool! Now, listen: Nance and I had got our bagsnearly filled, when I found this," striking the paper with herforefinger. "It blew right under my feet, around a corner. It's themorning paper."
"Well, well!"
"Oh, you'll hear it soon enough. It's the morning paper, and you know_I_ always read the papers, when I can find 'em, although, since youlost the few brains you was born with, you never look at one."
"Umph!"
"Well, I looked at this paper, and see what I found!"
She held the paper toward him, and pointed to a paragraph among theadvertisements.
WANTED. INFORMATION OF ANY SORT CONCERNING one Arthur Pearson, who left the mining country with a child in his charge, twenty years ago. Information concerning said child, Lea Ainsworth, or any of her relatives. Compensation for any trouble or time. Address,
O. E. MEARS, Atty,
Melbourne, Australia.
The paper fluttered from the man's nerveless fingers, but the womancaught it as it fell.
"Oh, Lord!" he gasped, the drops of perspiration standing out upon hisbrow, "oh, Lord! it has come at last."
"What has come, you old fool!"
"Everything; ruin! ruin!"
"We're a pretty looking pair to talk of _ruin_," giving a contemptuousglance at her surroundings. "Stop looking so like a scared idiot, andlisten to me."
"Oh, I'm listening!" sinking down upon the pallet in a dismal huddle;"go on."
"Oh, Lord!" he gasped; "oh, Lord, it has come atlast!"--page 42.]
The woman crossed over and sat down beside him.
"Now, look here; suppose the worst comes, how far away is it? How longwill it take to get a letter to Australia, and an answer or a journeyback?"
"Oh, I don't know."
"Well, it'll take all the time _we_ want. But who is there to answerthat advertisement?"
"Oh, dear!"
"You miserable coward! _She_ wouldn't know what it meant if she saw it."
"No."
"Arthur Pearson--"
"Oh, _don't_!"
"Arthur Pearson has not been heard of in twenty years."
The old man shuddered, and drew a long sighing breath.
"Walter Parks, after all his big talk, never came back from England,"she hurried on. "Menard is dead; and Joe Blakesley is in California. Therest are dead, or scattered south and west. There are none of the trainto be found here, except--except the Krutzers; and who can identify_them_ after twenty years?"
"I shall never feel safe again."
"Yes, you will. You always feel safe when the dollars jingle in yourpockets, although it's precious little good they bring you."
"But _her_ money is already gone."
"Her husband has a full purse."
"But how--"
"Oh, I see the way clear enough. It's only half the work of the otherjob, and double the money."
"The money! Ah! how do you think to get it?"
"Honestly, this time; honestly, old man. It shall come to us _as areward_!"
Drawing nearer still to her hesitating partner, the woman began towhisper rapidly, gesticulating fiercely now and then, while the old manlistened in amazement, admiration, doubt, and fear; asking eagerquestions, and feeling his way cautiously toward conviction.
When the argument was ended, he said, slowly:
"I shall never feel safe until it's over, and we are away from thisplace. When can you do--the job?"
"To-morrow night."
"To-morrow night!"
"Yes; it's the very time of times. To-morrow night it shall be."
"It's a big risk! We will have to bluff the detectives, old woman."
"A fig for the detectives! They will have a cold scent; besides--we havedodged detectives before."
Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives Page 4
