Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
The carriage was waiting for this young man, who simpered forward with uplifted hat and greeted them effusively. Mrs. Warmore noticed Tom, and bowed to him, inviting him to enter the carriage and ride with them, an invitation which, as he expressed to himself, he would not have accepted for seventeen thousand million dollars.
"And who was the lad that did all this?" he asked in the most innocent manner conceivable. "That is the one feature about the affair that has always troubled me," said the merchant. "I have tried to find out, but have never been able to gain the first clew to his identity. Mrs. Warmore was so frantic in mind that she did not think of the noble rescuer until he was gone.
"Perhaps, Miss Warmore, it will be safer for me to drive home with you. The horse is nervous and liable to take fright again." "I can never thank you sufficiently for what you have already done," she said with emotion, moving to one side to make room for him.
He had sacredly preserved the chain and likeness; and it was the similarity between the latter and the budding young lady that caused the perplexity in his mind. He wondered that he had not hit upon the explanation before it was flung in his face, as may be said. By the time Mrs. Warmore had added her account to that of her husband, Tom had regained mastery of himself.
Warmore was strolling homeward, swinging the heavy cane which he always carried, when, in passing a small stretch of woods just beyond the outskirts of the town, a man stepped from among the trees with the stealth of a shadow and waited for him to approach. The merchant hesitated a moment in doubt of his identity, but the other spoke in a low voice, "It's all right; come on."
He would have liked to smoke a cigar to help while away the time, but was too wise to attempt anything of the kind. The odor of tobacco would be certain to warn any one who entered by means of the front door. Mr. Warmore was nervous, for the experience was new to him. He succeeded by a great effort in keeping himself well in hand, venturing only to whisper a word now and then.
Pitcairn whether he had noticed the young man riding in the Warmore carriage with the mother and daughter. "Yes; I've seen him before. He is a son of an old friend of the family. I've an idee that he and Miss Warmore are intended for each other." "Do you know his name?" "Yes let me see. Ah, it is Catherwood G. Field Catherwood. He parts his name, like his hair, in the middle.
In the dusk of early evening, some months later, Tom was sauntering homeward, musing over the past, with an uncomfortable feeling that despite the long service he had given Mr. Warmore, and the many times he had expressed his satisfaction with him, the association was not likely to continue much longer. There could be no mistaking the hearty dislike which Catherwood felt for the young man.
He was the sleek, cunning, hypocritical villain he had always been, stealing, not because he was in need of money, but because it was his nature to do so. "Well, Mr. Catherwood, it looks as if the account will be a little short to-morrow!" The miscreant started as if he had heard the warning of a rattlesnake at his feet. Turning like a flash, he saw Mr. Warmore standing at his elbow.
He was never seen in Bellemore again. Ten years later he died, while travelling abroad with a woman whom he had made his wife. Then, for the first time, Tom Gordon learned the particulars of the night when Mr. Warmore assisted the detective. Let us take one more, and the final, leap forward. Three years have passed since Tom Gordon checked runaway Jack, and saved the life of pretty Jennie Warmore.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking