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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Curse you, I'll knife you for this!" grated the baffled villain. The next instant a keen blade gleamed in the air, just as a voice called: "Tige, come off." The dog was used to obeying his master's voice, and so he released his hold just in time to avoid the knife of the maddened Barkswell. "Here, Tige." The dog came bounding up the bank.
"I know ye fur jest that caper, Andy Barkswell." So that was the man he was supposed to represent. There was something familiar in the ring of the man's voice, too. Where had he heard it before? "Well, sir, I can't pay you anything to-night. You appoint a place of meeting and I will be there, don't you fear," returned the young engineer, after a moment given to reflection.
The hunter refused to touch the dirty paw extended toward him. "Won't you shake?" "No. You have made a mistake. I am not Andrew Barkswell." "Not Andrew Barkswell?" "No." "Who then?" "My name is August Bordine." "Lord, is that so?" cried Jounce with a grin. "Didn't you just come from the man I knifed down yonder?" "Certainly, and you'll have that to answer for." "Will he die?" "I expect so."
"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!"
Unlocking this, guide and detective passed through, and stood in total darkness. The detective was resolved to learn from this man all he could about Andrew Barkswell before he placed him under arrest, and it was for this reason that he seemed to fall in with his wishes so condescendingly. In the darkness, with the sound of the key grating in the lock as Jounce secured the door.
The eyes of Perry Jounce pierced the guilty villain to the quick. If there was one being in the wide world whom the miserable tramp loved, that person was his sister, the wife of Andrew Barkswell, and the only kin he had in the wide world. "She was in one of her tantrums, that is all." "Man, I believe you're lyin' now." "Be careful." Barkswell drew his revolver.
"How can you talk that way, Andrew, you who have made my life a hell since the hour I first met and loved you. It was that mad and hopeless love that has led me to do things that, if they were known, would shock the minds of men. "You know how I have suffered to please you, Barkswell. I almost feel that it would be a relief to end all in death." "I wish you might," he uttered in a heartless tone.
So far so good; but, gentlemen, it is a mistake to suppose that this man, guilty as he is of crimes without number, was the one who murdered Victoria Vane." At this announcement the interest deepened on all faces, and the countenance of the prisoner brightened. "The person who murdered Miss Vane, with this dagger, was in turn murdered by Andrew Barkswell, the prisoner here." "Who was it?"
He had received some money from Barkswell, and was anxious to keep in with that gentleman. "Lead the way, pardner, and I'll take her to the house." Perry Jounce lifted the seemingly lifeless form of his sister in his arms and strode from the summer-house. Barkswell led the way to the cottage, and a little later the woman revived. When questioned by Jounce she refused to make any explanation.
My wife is your own aunt, did you know it?" Andrew Barkswell regarded the speaker in astonishment. He thought he detected an ironical ring in the man's voice, but when he glanced into the fellow's face he seemed honest enough, in fact the red eye failed to show the least feeling on the subject the one under the black patch was, of course, as unspeakable as the tomb.
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