The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by NerveMacLaren, Gordon
General
The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve
MacLaren, Gordon
Adventure stories; Detective and mystery stories; Dime novels; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
"Now, what’s come to him, I wonder," she muttered, making her way slowly
back to the basement stairs. "It’s somethin’, I’ll be bound. I never
seen him look that way before. He was excited, too, when he come in
before. If I’d had any sense I’d ’a’ looked around his room whilst he
was out."
An instant later she was pounding up the stairs to the top floor. The
door of the hall bedroom was ajar, and, pushing it open, she walked in.
For a moment she stood there, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of
the miserable place. The scantily covered bed showed signs of having
been sat upon, but that was nothing unusual. Most of Mrs. Kerr’s
lodgers found the bed more comfortable than the straight, hard chair she
supplied. The woman noticed something else, however, which brought a
swift frown to her face, and made her step quickly forward, and jerk up
the cornhusk mattress.
"He’s been hiding something away here," she snapped aloud, peering
closely at the rusty springs. "I knowed it! What a fool I was not to
look before! but who’d ’a’ thought it, after the times I’ve went through
his——"
She broke off with a queer, choking sound, and in a second every trace
of color had left her face. For a moment she stood as if turned to
stone, staring at the floor with a look of utter incredulity in her
narrowed eyes. Then, with a guttural sound, half groan, half
exclamation of joy, she dropped on her knees and snatched up a crisp
twenty-dollar bill that lay under the bed.
"Good Lord!" she gasped.
Stumbling to her feet, she held it out, devouring it with her eyes.
Then, fumbling in her dress, she drew forth the money Lawrence had just
given her, and compared the two. Both were crisp and new and yellow;
both were uncreased, as if they had lain together in the same long
wallet or package. And Mrs. Kerr’s eyes lit up with a horrible sort of
cupidity.
"An’ I let him go!" she muttered, through clenched teeth. "I let him
step out of the house with his pockets full of dough, leaving a twenty
behind he never knowed he’d lost! I’m a dope! But mebbe it ain’t too
late. Mebbe—— Jim! Jim!"
Her face flushed and mottled, her hands trembling, she flung herself
into the hall and down the stairs, calling the name at intervals.
She had reached the second floor, and was panting toward a door in the
rear, when it was jerked open, and a man appeared on the threshold.
"Shut your face, you fool!" he snarled. "What’re you yowling round like
that for? You’ll bust yer pipes!"
She caught her breath with a queer gurgle, and, putting out both hands,
pushed him back into the room.
"Wait till you see what I found," she gasped. "Wait till you hear——"
Then the door slammed shut, and the sound of her voice ceased abruptly,
leaving the hall dark and silent, save only for the rapid, indistinct
murmur rising and falling in the room beyond.
*CHAPTER VI.*
*AS IN A DREAM.*
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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