Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective; Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express

by A. Frank Pinkerton

  CHAPTER III.

  In one of the many straggling streets, almost hidden behind a fewlarge shops of curious build, stood a small boutique full of ancientrelics and jeweled bric-a-brac.

  Inside, seated by the counter, writing in a large ledger, was an oldman, whose hooked nose and piercing eyes proclaimed him at once to befrom the tribe of Israel.

  This Jew, Phenee, was not alone. Flitting about the shop, arrangingthe antique curiosities, was a young and very beautiful girl, withdelicate features and lustrous, black eyes.

  "Can I help you, grandfather?" the girl asked, suddenly stoppingbefore the desk, and leaning both dimpled arms on the dusty book.

  "No, no, Miriam; I have almost finished. Leave me for a few moments'quiet."

  Miriam sank gently on a high chair, and drooping her head pensively onher hand, sat for some time in unbroken silence, gazing out throughthe open door at the motley crowds passing by.

  Suddenly a dusky form, clad in the garb of a fisherman, entered, anddrawing near Phenee, glanced nervously around.

  "I wish to sell that. How much will you give me for it?" laying ajeweled poignard, with a golden chain attached, on the desk.

  Phenee took it up and examined it attentively, then looked searchinglyat the man.

  Satisfied at his scrutiny, the Jew named a very low price, one whichhis customer had some hesitation in accepting; but at last, seeingPhenee was obdurate, he took the offered money, and glided off like aspectre.

  "What a curious poignard, and how pretty!" Miriam said, lifting itfrom the scales, where Phenee had placed it. "I am surprised he tookso little for it."

  "I'm not. One can't offer too little for stolen goods."

  "Do you think this is stolen?"

  "I am sure it is. That man never came honestly by it."

  Scarcely had the poignard been put on one side, when two young men,handsomely dressed, entered the shop, and asked for some emeralds.

  "While you are choosing, I will have a look round at all thesecuriosities, Miguel," the youngest of the men remarked.

  "As you like; I shan't be long, Diniz."

  Sampayo nodded, and commenced his search, turning over every objectthat took his fancy, aided by Miriam.

  "I will show you something very curious--a poignard strangelyfashioned," the girl said, drawing the weapon her grandfather had justbought from its hiding place.

  Diniz took it up and examined it attentively, then a low cry brokefrom his lips, and his face grew pale.

  "Where did you get this?"

  "I have just bought it. It is a very pretty toy for a gentleman,"Phenee broke in persuasively.

  With almost eager haste Diniz bargained for the poignard, and at lastmanaged to bring the Jew down to ten times the sum he had given thefisherman.

  After his friend, Miguel Reale, had chosen the jewels he wanted, Dinizhurried him away.

  Not many hours later, as the young Jewess sat alone, her grandfatherhaving gone some distance off on business, she was startled by Sampayosuddenly reappearing, a look of intense anxiety on his face.

  "Senora," he said politely, drawing from his breast the poignard, "canyou tell me from whom your father bought this?"

  "I do not know his name, but I believe he is a fisherman and lives inyonder village," Miriam answered simply.

  "Should you know him again? Pardon my asking, but it is very importantI should discover the owner of this weapon. By doing so I may be ableto bring a murderer to meet his doom, and avenge the death of my bestfriend!"

  Miriam gazed at him compassionately, a serious light in her dark eyes.

  "I will help you," she said suddenly, moved as it were by a strangeimpulse; "I have long wished for occupation--some useful work, thoughI should have liked something less terrible than helping to trace amurderer; still, I will aid you if I can."

  "Thank you. But if he never came here again?"

  "I shall not wait for that. To-morrow I will visit those huts in whichthe fishermen dwell; I may then find the man who sold the poignard, orat least a clew to the mystery."

  Diniz took one of the small hands in his, and pressed it reverently tohis lips.

  "You will not go alone; I will be your companion. Together we shallwork better. But your father will he consent to your accompanying me?"

  "My grandfather loves me too dearly, and trusts me too fully, torefuse me anything. He need not know the errand upon which I am bent,"a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

  After making all necessary arrangements for the next day, Sampayo leftthe Jewess, to wait impatiently until the hour arrived for him tostart on his melancholy errand.

  It was still early when he left the crowed streets, to walk quickly inthe direction of a small fishing village, some distance off.

  Half way he saw the tall, graceful figure of a young girl, whose longveil of soft silky gauze hid her face from passers-by. He recognizedher at once--it was the beautiful Jewess. So, hastening his steps, hesoon stood before her.

  "Senora," he said gently.

  The girl started, turned, then smiled through the screening folds ofgray.

  "It is you? I was afraid you would not come," in a relieved tone.

  "I am too anxious to find that man, to lose the chance you have sokindly given me. I only hope I am not putting you to anyinconvenience," Diniz said, gallantly.

  "Not at all. I am only too happy to be of some use," earnestly.

  For many hours they wandered about from house to house, Miriam havingarmed herself with a large sum of money, hoping by acts of charity togain access into the poor dwellings.

  They were almost despairing of finding a clew to the whereabouts ofthe fisherman, when three little children, poor and hungry-looking,playing outside a tiny hut, attracted Miriam's attention.

  Stooping, she spoke gently to the little things, and won from them thetale of their excessive poverty, which she promised to relieve if theywould take her to their mother.

  This they willingly did, and Miriam found a pale, delicate-lookingwoman, who, notwithstanding the raggedness of her dress, still boretraces of having been at one time different to a poor fisherman'swife.

  Encouraged by the soft tones of her mysterious visitor, the womangradually unburdened her troubled heart by telling her the history ofher wretched life; how she had been doomed to follow her husband, anIndian chief, to death; but, loving life better, she escaped with herlittle children, but would have died of hunger on the seashore ifJarima, her second husband, had not rescued her and offered her hisname and home.

  "He is very good to me and my children; the past seems but a dreamnow. If only we had money, all would be well."

  Miriam, with a few gentle, consoling words, slipped a few bright coinsinto the tiny brown hands of the astonished babies; then, with a sigh,she bade the grateful mother adieu and went out to where Diniz waswaiting.

  He read by her face that she had no better tidings, and, drawing herhand through his arm, he turned away.

  "Will it never come--the proof I want?" he said, half bitterly.

  Scarcely had the words left his lips when a glad cry of "Father!" rentthe air, and three small forms bounded over the white shingle towardsa tall man, dressed in white linen.

  Almost convulsively Miriam pressed Sampayo's arm to arrest his hastysteps.

  "We need go no farther," she whispered. "That is the man you want; andif he is that woman's husband, his name is Jarima."

  "Thank Heaven! To-morrow he will be arrested and the truthdiscovered," Diniz muttered.

  Silently they watched the man walk towards his humble home, thechildren clinging lovingly to his hands. The woman came forward with abright smile, holding up her face to receive his caress.

  "There can be no doubt. It is Jarima, and the man who sold thepoignard."

  "Luiz's murderer," Diniz added between his set teeth.

  Almost feverishly Sampayo hurried Miriam away. He was anxious to tellLianor of his success, and bring the assassin to justice.

  Some distance fr
om the Jew's shop he bade Miriam adieu, promising tocall and let her know the result.

  On reaching Don Garcia's palace Diniz was surprised at the sounds ofbright music, mingled with happy voices, that floated on the air.

  Satzavan was the first to meet him, and he went forward with awelcoming smile.

  "Where is Lianor?" Diniz asked anxiously, glancing round the desertedhalls.

  "In the grounds. Don Garcia has his home full of guests in honor ofhis daughter's betrothal with Manuel Tonza."

  "Lianor betrothed, and to him!" in consternation.

  "Yes," sadly; "her father has commanded her to accept him, and, sinceshe lost poor Falcam, she is indifferent whom she weds."

  "But Tonza above all other men!" bitterly.

  With a dark shadow on his brow, Diniz followed the young Indian intothe spacious grounds, where Lianor, surrounded by many richly-dressedladies, was sitting.

  "I cannot speak to her before all those people. Go, Satzavan, andbring her to me."

  The youth darted off obediently, and presently returned to the treewhere Diniz stood almost hidden by its shady branches, leading Lianor,whose face wore a look of some wonder.

  "Diniz, is it really you? Have you brought me any news?" she askedeagerly.

  Sampayo took her outstretched hand and kissed it reverently.

  "Yes," he said softly; "good news."

  "What is it? Tell me!"

  "I have discovered the man who, I think, struck the blow byinstigation of the real murderer. Until he is taken I can do nothingfurther."

  "But who is he? How did you find him?"

  "He is a poor fisherman, named Jarima, and it was through a youngJewess, Phenee's grandchild, to whom the poignard was sold, I foundhim."

  "That was very good of her to help you."

  "It was, indeed. The whole morning she has searched with me for theman, and at last our labor was rewarded. To-morrow Jarima will beunder arrest."

  As the words left his lips, a sudden movement amongst the treesstartled them.

  "I am sure that was some one," Lianor cried, turning pale, andclasping Diniz's arm.

  Satzavan glided noiselessly away, but soon returned to say no one hadpassed by.

  Possibly the noise was occasioned by the wind rustling through theleaves.

  "Very likely," Lianor said quietly, "though it made me nervous.Suppose any one overheard us?"

  "Rest assured, dear, that nothing now can come between me and myrevenge. But, Lianor, is it true you are betrothed to Tonza?"

  "Yes, Diniz, it is true. Papa has commanded me to accept him. I hatehim; but now poor Luiz is dead, I care not who becomes my husband,"hopelessly.

  "I wish it were other than Tonza, Lianor. I cannot trust him; nor willI believe but what he had a hand in Luiz's death."

  "That is what I think, but papa says it is only fancy; Manuel is tooupright to do such a treacherous thing."

  A silvery laugh broke suddenly on the silence which had fallen betweenthem, and Savitre, leaning lightly on Panteleone's arm, stood beforethem.

  The rajah's young widow made a strange contrast to Lianor, gay withrich colors.

  Judging from Panteleone's ardent gaze, he, at least, saw some beautyin the dusky, changing face.

  "What, Sampayo! I did not know you were here," the young man criedgladly, seizing Diniz's hand in a warm grip. "Have you brought goodnews?"

  "Yes, better than I expected," Diniz answered; and briefly recountedthe success which had attended his morning's search.

  "I do not wish to meet your father to-night, Lianor; until thisbusiness is settled, I could not enter into any amusement. First, Iwill go to Henrique Ferriera, the magistrate, and arrange with himabout Jarima's capture."

  "But you will come to-morrow, will you not--to tell me the result?"Lianor asked anxiously.

  "Assuredly; unless anything serious prevents me."

  "Thank you," she murmured gratefully.

  A kind hand-pressure from all, and Sampayo walked quickly away; whileLianor, her heart somewhat lightened by this news, returned to herfather's guests with Satzavan.

  Savitre would have followed, but Panteleone held her back with a fewwhispered words, and, nothing loth, the little widow sauntered withhim through the shady grounds, apart from the rest.

  "Savitre," Leone said suddenly, "would you be willing to leave yourcountry--to go with me to Portugal?"

  Savitre gazed at him in some wonderment.

  "Surely you are not thinking of leaving India?" she cried, a suddenanxiety dawning in her dark eyes.

  "Yes; my father wishes me to return, and as soon as Lianor is marriedwe are going."

  The girl remained silent; only a few pearly tears rolled down hercheeks.

  "Savitre, dearest one, do not weep! Would it be so dreadful for you toquit the country?"

  "It is not that," with a stifled sob; "but I had not thought of yourleaving us, or the friendship between us being broken."

  "Nor will it, my darling! Don't you understand? I love you too dearlyto give you up; I want you to be my wife, so that none can part us.Say my hopes are not all in vain!"

  A vivid flush mantled the clear, dark skin, and the lustrous eyesdrooped in confusion.

  "You really mean that? You love me, a girl who is not even of your ownkind?"

  "I love you with all my heart and soul. Ever since the day when Itdrew you half-fainting from off the already lighted pile, I have feltmy affection growing deeper and deeper, until it has absorbed my wholebeing. My happiness is never complete unless I am near you. Tell me,darling, that you return my love!" "How could I help but love you--youwho saved my life? Oh, Leone, you cannot think how proud I am at beingchosen by you before all others!"

  With a joyous exclamation, Panteleone drew her to his breast, pressingpassionate kisses on her brow, cheeks, and lips, his heart thrillingwith rapture at the realization of his dreams.