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Updated: June 1, 2025
"Never mind brothering me. I don't want you to trouble me again, you understand, until " "Till that man-tracker goes under?" "Exactly." "You bet I won't." Then Barkswell moved on his way, and the tramp disappeared in the bushes. "Ho! So Mr. Andy don't like for me to call him brother," uttered the tramp, gutterally. "Wonder if he's forgot that he married sister Iris. I must look up the old girl.
Keene, nearly senseless, was rolled upon the damp floor, upon his face, and his hands secured with a cord at his back. "There, I reckon he won't give no more trouble," said a voice that the detective recognized as that of Perry Jounce, the tramp. "Confound his picture," grated Barkswell. "I believe the scamp would have been too much for me if you hadn't come just as you did."
While the real Bordine was a fugitive from justice, the schemer felt that he had nothing to fear from him; but how long was this to be? The young engineer might be captured at any time, when it would be impossible for him to deceive Rose longer. It was this fear that troubled Barkswell more than aught else.
The deep growl of a dog was the disturbing cause. As Hank Jones pulled the trigger, a shaggy object bounded through the bushes full at the throat of the villainous murderer. August recognized the peddler's dog. Man and dog rolled down the bank to the water's edge. In the struggle the disguised outlaw's beard was torn off, and Andrew Barkswell stood revealed.
It will be remembered that a man had been listening through an open window to the conversation between the detective and August Bordine in the early morning. That man was no less a personage than Andrew Barkswell, whose strong resemblance to the young engineer had so complicated affairs. He, of course, preferred to meet the detective in a way that the latter little suspected.
This chap, my sister's husban', was wishin' to get rid of his wife, but in makin' the attempt he ruined himself, and I was ter see the chap hung fur the murder." "Then he does succeed." The keen eyes of Barkswell regarded the man before him fixedly, penetratingly. "No!" hissed the tramp. "Men do not hang for attempting murder." "Don't they?
On the floor sat Perry Jounce, wiping the blood from his face with a dirty handkerchief. "Well, Perry, that came mighty near proving a finisher for you," said. Mr. Barkswell with a provoking smile. "Wal, I should remark. And you'd a ben glad on't. I ain't goin' ter die yet awhile, pardner. Do you know why?" The ex-tramp seemed cool enough under the circumstances. "Explain, Perry."
A smile played on the features of Barkswell. Nevertheless his face was pale and drawn, and his breath came in short, hot gasps. It was no ordinary thing to take the life of a human being, much less to perpetrate the deed in cold blood. "Now then the body must be disposed of," muttered Barkswell. "I cannot permit it to lay here." He moved about and lifted a small trap in the floor.
When the old maid had revolved these thoughts in her brain sufficiently, she rose to her feet and donning hat and shawl hastened from the house. "You imagined that that poor woman you heard addressing me as husband that day was my wife," proceeded Barkswell, after a moment of silence, "but that was where the trouble came in and the mistake rose." "Do you deny " "It is not necessary.
The young engineer did so, telling all the circumstances and concluding with: "I am as deeply puzzled as you can be, at the man's motive in rescuing me from your hands. Evidently he mistook me for another person, since he addressed me as Andrew Barkswell." "And is not that your name?" "Certainly not. I hope you did not make the same mistake.
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