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Updated: June 22, 2025
Young Vane recognized him as Bordine, and he was anxious to secure his assistance in securing the tramp. "Let go, Rans, I must be traveling." "But wait. Will you testify to what you have jast said?" "Mebbe." "Then remain " "Let go, I tell ye." Vane, however, still clung to the arm of Jounce. The latter became angry, and flung him off furiously. "Help! Murder!" shouted Vane. "Take that, you fool!"
Of course the reader will understand that the man who personated Bordine in his interview with Rose Alstine was the young man's double, who yet hovered in the city, and moved about among the people in many disguises. On the night in question he had boldly thrown off his disguise for the purpose of appealing to Rose as the fugitive, hoping to excite her sympathy.
"Why did you not come for me in person without writing the letter?" "That might have been the proper way, but I am not like other people, Mr. Bordine. I am considered a peculiar man. It was a freak of mine, I suppose, that I did not do as you say. Fact is, I did not think it possible for me to leave Keene at the time I wrote the letter." "You afterward found him better?" "Slightly, yes."
A clear, ringing voice uttered the words, as a young man strode from a tree near, tossed his hat to the green-sward, and confronted the startled trio. "My son, my son!" The next instant the old lady was clasped to the breast of August Bordine. It was a dramatic scene. But the drama was not yet complete.
Of course that lover was as nought to the young heiress now. She believed him to be a villain of the deepest dye, yet she could not tell her thoughts to that trusting old mother who seemed so wrapped up in her son. "The idea that he could harm anybody," declared Mrs. Bordine to Rose, with both plump hands on the girl's shoulders. "Why, he never even so much as killed a chicken without shuddering."
The man for whom all this excitement was occasioned pursued his way leisurely to the suburbs of the city, and entered a small house that stood some rods back from the street. It was not the cottage that he had occupied at the time Rose Alstine mistook it for the Bordine residence.
"You are an angel if there ever was one." The two walked into the garden at the side of the house, where the air was cool and balmy. "I saw your son last night, Mrs. Bordine." "What! Saw August?" "Yes." The widow was all interest at once. Rose then related the interview she had with Andrew Barkswell, laboring under the delusion that he was her lover.
He raised his eyes to peer into the face of a ragged tramp. The city of Grandon was only a few miles distant from Ridgewood and connected by rail. It was a small city of mushroom growth, as is characteristic of many Western towns. It was here that the engineer August Bordine resided. He was well to-do, supporting a widowed mother, giving her a comfortable home from his earnings.
With the creek before, and a determined man with a cocked revolver behind, it did not seem possible for the engineer to escape. "Halt!" Was Harry Jones anxious to capture his man alive? Evidently not, yet the call to halt had the effect desired. Bordine came to a momentary pause on the bank of the brawling creek long enough for his mad pursuer to take aim and fire.
The Vanes are queer and no mistake," remarked Bordine, to a young lady of his acquaintance, living in an adjoining town. Rose Alstine was plain and sensible, and took no offense at her lover's referring to Miss Vane. Why should she? She knew that genial August Bordine was true as steel and generous and sympathetic to a fault.
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