The American Marquis by Nick Carter — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE AMERICAN MARQUIS. | his way in. He would need such a verification, perhaps, some day.” Not into the carriage did he go, however. He was led along the carriage path, then into a narrower path, and through other paths for a long distance. The storm the stranger had predicted had come up, and Clinton could not only hear the crashing thunder and feel the heavy rain-drops, but could almost see the vivid light- ning through the folds of cloth over his eyes. He was already much wet when the man who was guid- ing him suddenly swerved to one side and pulled him into what seemed a sort of arbor. Clinton could hear the pouring rain on the roof overhead, and could feel earth under his feet. ‘Wait here a few minutes,” said the man, gruffily, leav- ing Clinton alone. ‘<1’m to receive the money here,” thought Clinton. A faint noise behind him caused him to say: ‘‘ Bringing me the money?” ‘“ No,” came the gruff answer. ‘‘ It’s the pillow your wife sends you.” ‘‘ Ah!” murmured the artist, tenderly. ‘‘ Give it to me; I will carry it.” ) ‘< Take it.” A dull, sickening thud followed, and the blindfolded man fell in a heap to the earth. ) Up again he scrambled, tearing the bandage from his eyes. Half stunned, but desperate; mad with rage and a sense of the black treachery practiced upon him, Clinton grappled with the man. _ A low call brought his two fellows, and a silent, terrible _ death-struggle took place between the four men. Three - against one. * é * * * * The next night a man crept up to the door of the lonely house in Morlaix. . Painfully he ascended the creaking stairs, staggered into the studio, and fell headlong on the floor, clutching at the cloth which hung over the sweet, smiling face. Lhe painting was uncovered. — a Gomicbooks (elo)