Penny Dreadfuls, 1899 · page 78 of 295
Lady Evelyn — page 78: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1899. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Ve che my pees ve sar shee we, vie lk i eles agian a a ery ways oN as es af EA ba aaa CS eri sant, LS: ae i $ sofis 4 ENG ie ety hs eee Un he ey oF Cae eae --wake and give chase? Come on! } Stunned, bewildered, dazed, like a man in a dream, | MCoie ee © Where? how? in Rewer’ s name, , Mike ) what do you mean? There is no chance of escape.” “There is every chance!” Mike Muldoon cried ina breathless whisper. “The jailer is my uncle, as you know ; he hasn't seen me for four years until to-day. And he wouldn’t have seen me to- -day, only they told me over — in the town—oh, wirra!—that they had you here hard and fast. Lord Rory, I swore by all that’s good and great that minute that I’d free you, or know the reason why. I came to my uncle, and sure he was as glad to see me as if I was the prodigal son Father Lafferty preaches about; and didn’t I ask him to make a little feast in honor of the occasion, and invite the whole ship’s crew? And faith he did it like a lady, and I just quietly drugged the punch, and every man-jack of them is sleep- in’ like the divil! I tuk the kays from my uncle’s belt, and—Och, Lord Rory! don’t kape me standin’ here palav- erin’, but come at once.” He flung the coat around him, slapped the hat over his © eyes, and fairly dragged the prioner out of his cell. “But where, Mike—where are we going?” “T’ve a boat in waitin’ down there at Peggy’s Point, and my ship, the ‘Dancin’ Dervish,’ sails in three hours. She’s lyin’ at anchor in the harbor now; and as three of our men deserted last night, they'll take you, and no ques- tions asked. And sure, when you're safe in foreign parts, you can write home and Will ye hurry, Lord Rory, or do ye mane to stand here till the dirty pack o’ beagles — 99 | E Lord Roderick suffered himself to be fairly dragged along. Still in that dream, he passed through long cor- ridors, through an open court-yard where officials slept on their posts} through the prison gates, and out into the gray, starry morning—free! Then he awoke. He turned to the brave fellow beside him and held out his hand. “Mike, my glorious fellow, how can I thank you?” “By runnin’ as if the divil was after ye. Maybe they’re wakin’ this minute and raisin’ the alarm. Never mind thanks, Lord Rory, till we’re out o’ sight o’ the coast oy Treland: a Rit they must non at home. ~My fatherLady mr > . ‘ ie - “ \¥ - 4