The mystery of Central Park : $b A novelBly, Nellie
General
The mystery of Central Park : $b A novel
Bly, Nellie
American fiction -- 19th century; Central Park (New York, N.Y.) -- Fiction; Mystery fiction
“Yes, sir; I mean every word of it.” Dick had risen and he looked very
angry and capable of doing all the bad things he threatened. “I have
given you a chance, and you refuse to accept, so--” and he shrugged his
shoulders as if his responsibility ended there.
“And if you get the information, what use will you make of it?” asked
Bike, as if longing for some hope to be held out to him.
“You know what I want. It is not to bring any credit to myself, but to
relieve the suspense of a heart-broken sister.”
“And would you, if I tell you all, be man enough to show some mercy?”
he asked, in a hopeless way.
“I hold out no promises. I am determined to have a confession from you
before your marriage. If you don’t give it, you don’t marry, and you
can put that down for a certainty,” Dick said doggedly.
“And if I tell you,” in sudden hope, “will you let my marriage go
on without telling Clara? Promise to let us get away on our wedding
tour and then you can do as you wish. Only give me that much,” almost
pleaded the now trembling man.
“And let you wreck the life of the innocent, unsuspecting woman who
becomes your bride? What sort of a man do you think I am?” Richard
asked in scorn.
“My God, man! Have some feeling. Haven’t I suffered enough already? You
are a man, you can understand how a man will sell his soul to hell for
the sake of a woman,” he said bitterly. “Have some feeling!”
“Can’t you understand it?” he continued, desperately, in vain effort
to wake compassion in Richard’s breast. “She was pretty, she had
no friends to make any trouble about it, and I lost my head. I have
suffered for it. I have regretted it.” And Tolman Bike put his hands
over his face, and Richard heard a broken, husky sob.
This was more than he could endure. His sternness fled at that sound,
and he could hardly refrain from attempting to console the wretched
man. Only thoughts of the poverty-stricken little sister helped him
maintain an air of unrelenting sternness.
“Well, what do you ask of me?” Richard asked with a roughness that
covered his real feeling. Now that he had conquered the man his
suspicions fled. He felt sorry for Bike’s suffering and had a guilty
feeling that he was the cause of it.
“Only give me until to-morrow and I’ll swear to you that you shall know
what you want to before ten o’clock. Give me until then. If I fail,
you have yet time to stop my marriage in the evening. You are a man,
but if you won’t spare me for a man’s follies, spare me for the sake
of the woman I am to marry. I’m sick! I can’t talk! Only give me until
to-morrow.”
“---- it, Bike,” Richard said, feelingly, “if it wasn’t for the girl’s
sister, I’d fling the whole thing over.” He little knew what it meant
to him. “I believe your promise. I’m a man, reckless, indolent,
careless as the worst of them, and, confound it, I’m sorry for you.
There’s my hand.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account