Detective Bob Bridger — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

20 DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. The forehead was receding, the mouth huge, the lips large, the chin massive, the nostrils wide, the nose flat, the eyes wild, staring, and full. Without doubt they were the head and features of an idiot. The expression of the distorted, idiotic face was so horri- — ble that Bridger, with a sickening feeling, averted his glance, while a manly tear dimmed the eye of the Scotch detective. Fixing his eyes in a vacant stare upon the wall at his rear the poor idiot cried out, shrilly, in the supreme agony of the instant : ‘“See-ree-go! ’e! ’e! ’e! See-ree go!” It was not the cry of a human being, but that of a wild beast stricken down by the hunter’s dart. As the startling cry rang through the corridors of the prison a deep toned muttering of condemnation came in re- sponse from the convicts at the windows. The idiot, with a quick movement, dashed his head violently forward against the crossbeam. The executioner had drawn the “ cat” to give the eleventh stroke when his eye met the eye of the Scotch detective. The rabble at the windows were quick to perceive that Fandon had given the burly keeper the “office” to lhghten up his blows. The stroke descended apparently with its usual force, but the cat’s lashes struck the bruised and benumbed back of the wretched man so gently that he barely felt them. A loud cheer rang out in recognition of Fandon’s act from the felons above. Perceiving instinctively that a friend was nigh the idiot again threw back his head and glanced about in search of the one whose influence had eased his torture. When his eyes rested upon Fandon his lips parted in a broad smile, and his features assumed a look of servile adoration, such as the dog bestows upon his master. He did not remove his glance, nor notice the nine mock- earnest blows while they descended. When the twenty lashes had been given, the culprit loosed from pillory, and his blue woolen shirt adjusted to ety the Scotch detective stepped forward and took his and. : “I did all I could for you, Billy,” said he, “ both before the beak and here. Now, be a good lad, and do what they ask of you in prison, and I’ll do what I can to shorten Pi your term. . comicbooks * - “> ~ -