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Updated: June 1, 2025
On the night in question, Barkswell, after shooting the policeman from his path, darted swiftly down the street a few rods, then turned into a dark alley. Here he resumed the disguise he had discarded, in order to meet Rose. Passing out at the other end of the alley, he met several members of the police force who were looking for him.
If you knew her you will bear me out in the statement that she was something of a coquette in her way." "I know nothing about that." "You hadn't met her in some years perhaps." "I admit that I had not. See here, Mr. Bordine, alias Barkswell, we may as well come to an understanding. I consider you a dangerous man, and propose to put you in a safe place."
If the man before him was not Barkswell, then he resembled him so closely as to defy detecting the difference. "I will watch and wait," thought Keene, "and not make another move until I am certain of the facts." "Now that we understand each other," proceeded Bordine, "I wish to make a bargain with you." "Proceed."
Keene sauntered into the card room, after partaking of a cigar. While here watching the players, a hand touched his arm. "Be you lookin' for somebody, mister?" Keene looked into a dark, repulsive face, and at once recognized the man who had been described as the tramp, Perry Jounce. "Yes," returned the detective. "Who mout it be?" Bending to the man's ear, Keene whispered the name of Barkswell.
"Yes," faintly. "Your husband has attempted to murder you; do you realize it?" "Yes." "I am afraid you may never be any better, and unless you tell us what you know, an innocent man may suffer for murder that I believe he committed. Do you comprehend?" "Yes, I believe so," answered Mrs. Barkswell in a stronger voice.
"I might have arrested her," muttered the detective, "had I not chased her husband into the darkness. I am confident that it's the same couple I saw in the carriage, yet then he was in disguise." Sile Keene searched the house from top to bottom, but made no important discoveries. He was prone to believe, however, that Barkswell was the assassin of poor Victoria Vane.
Then, dropping her veil, the wife walked sobbing from the room and the house. It was a triumphant expression that fell from the lips of the disguised Barkswell as he saw his enemy plunge headlong into the gulf of boiling waters. Making his way to the edge of the water the villain gazed long and earnestly at the seething foam, but no sign of the body of his rival was to be seen.
Mebbe she can do something for me. I'm aware that she'd be ashamed of me in these togs but I reckin I kin sleek up a bit with a part o' this" clinching the gold-piece as he spoke. In the meantime Andrew Barkswell made his way to the village, and finding the village physician, sent him to the cottage of Ransom Vane to attend the wounded man.
With a wild cry Barkswell flung down the light, and fell fainting across the grave of his murdered victim. The bullet that Andrew Barkswell sent hustling after the fleeing Bordine went wide of its mark. The young engineer was moving at such a rate of speed, however, that it was wholly impossible for him to halt.
I did flirt with her a little I admit, but there was nothing serious took place, I would be willing to swear to this." Of course the detective did not believe a word of this, although Barkswell uttered it in a solemn and apparently sincere manner. "I believe you will yet swing for that murder," was Keene's sharp reply.
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