Detective Bob Bridger — page 29: what you’re looking at

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

99 _ DETECTIVE BOB BRIDGER. Richard Hanford was by all odds the most important-ap-— pearing individual of his years on the course. A jockey wearing a scarlet cap and green shirt, at that moment dashed by upon a fine chestnut horse which he was warming up for the coming race. Richard thought he saw a chance for profitable specula- tion in the flying heels of the chestnut, and stepped grandly toward a book-maker, intending to wager a few odd pounds of the raliroad company’s money. “T say now, ye know,” quoth Richard, crowding the cockney drawl to its fullest, “what odds are you laying against the chestnut just by ?” “Twenty to one, sir,” returned the gambler. At those figyahs I shall lay you, aw, let me see—” “Don’t bet your money on the bob-tail nag, young man,” quoth Fandon, touching Richard upon the shoulder. “Come with me and I will introduce you to the winning horse.” ‘Sir !” exclaimed Richard, starting back in astonishment and eying Fandon in a highly aristocratic manner through his eye-glass, “ Ya-as, let me understand, aw, ye know —you are a tout-taw, I presume ?” The Scotch detective threw back the fold of his coat, and tapping his golden badge gently, said, with a wink: “Yes, Richard, 1 am a touter of this class. The fact is, Richard, the folks in America have suddenly found that they cannot exist without you. And I am sure your mamma would say you were a real naughty boy did she know that you were betting the money you took from the raliroad company’s safe on horses.” Never did a dashing “ plunger” wilt more suddenly. Richard Hanford’s airs vanished on the instant. His face became deathly pale, his eyes started from his head, his eye-glass dropped from its place, his tally-book fell from his hands, and his knees smote violently together. “Oh, dear, how you—you frighten me!” he stammered. ‘IT assure you, sir, you are mistaken in the man. I did not do it. I am Emanuel Picard.” “No, no, Hanford. Up and up now,” quoth Bridger, stepping forward and trying to look serious. ‘Conductor Bridger! Save me, oh, save me!” shrieked the terrified youth, recognizing Bridger, and extending his trembling hands imploringly toward him. > “Tam not Conductor Bridger,” returned Bob, sternly. *Tis true I have in times past acted as conductor that I might get the gauge of the company’s rogues. But little did I then dream that you, Richard Hanford, would be the _ comicbooks.com