University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
`The Root of all Evil.'

GORDON sank upon the bench by the
side of Louis, who alone of the entire
company knew the cause of the sudden
change in the drunken man.

Half an hour afterwards, Louis was in the
presence of his master.

`I have succeeded,' said he, bluntly, without
the slightest expression of triumph on
his face.

`You spoke the word?' cried Burnam, eagerly.

`Yes.'

`And the effect?'

`One would have thought,' said Louis,
`that poison was mixed with the liquor he
had quaffed, and that the consequences were
sudden and fatal.'

`Louis!'

`Monsieur, he staggered like an ox that
the butcher strikes suddenly dead,' pursued
the valet. `I left him on the bench which
received his weight as he fell.'

`Louis!' said Burnam, his eyes flashing
with joy, `you have served me well. This
knowledge, which I owe to you, affords me
greater satisfaction than untold sums of gold
could do. Now all that remains for you to
accomplish, is to bring about an interview
between me and this Gordon, whom I must
see face to face.'

`That I will endeavor to do, Monsieur.'

`Then success is certain, Louis,' said his
master. `You are a host.'

When the valet had retired, Burnam paced
his room with rapid strides.

`Oh! I will clear up this mystery!' he
said—`then let the guilty beware!'

Let us return to Gordon and his companions.

For a moment the burglar lay upon the
low bench upon which he had fallen, in a
state of bewilderment, for the voice which
pronounced the fatal word seemed to have
come from Heaven. He was aroused by the
landlord—if the proprietor of such a grog-shop
merits the appellation—who struck
him rudely upon the shoulder.

`Come Gordon, what ails ye?' said the
red faced man. `You're as white as a toadstool!
and I'll be d—d if you doesn't
tremble! You hain't seen a ghost, hey?'

Gordon grasped his arm, and pulling him
eagerly towards him, whispered in his ear:

`You haven't seen one?'

`Ha! ha! no! I doesn't deal in them animals.'

`Nor heard one?' pursued Gordon, eagerly.

`What the devil d'ye mean?' cried the
bloated man, contemptuously. `Do you
mean to insult my honor by hintin' that I
keeps ghosts? D—n me if this hain't
too respectable an establishment for them 'ere
critters to ha'nt. But you're gassin' old
cock.'

`No,' said Gordon, `I feel sick.'

`Wall, that sounds better—that does.—
D'ye know what'll cure ye? A horn of
brandy, Gordon; a horn—a good stiff horn
—nothin' better.'

Gordon, now thinking the terrible word
he had heard was in his own imagination,
concluded to follow the red faced man's advice,
and stepped up to the bar to drink.

Meanwhile, in a retired corner of the establishment,
two individuals were conver
sing in a low tone. They were Marvin and
Light Joe.

`It is not for myself I ask it,' said Joe,
`but for her. You have been her ruin, and
it is no more than just that you should make
some amends. And this you must do! I
have taken her under my protection, and I
shall see that you do right by her. Give me
two hundred dollars for her, or give it to
her yourself, and we will never trouble you
more. Refuse at your peril!'

`But I have not that sum with me,' said
the man in green glasses. `Only give me
time—'

`You can get the money easy enough,'
interrupted Joe, `and you must.'

`When?'

`Before to-morrow night.'

`True as Heaven, I cannot!'

`So much the worse for you then!' exclaimed
Joe, `for mine is no idle threat!'

Marvin bit his lips in perplexity.

`One word more,' pursued Joe, buttoning
his coat and pulling his cap over his
face.

`Well.'

`I want you to understand that she has
nothing to do with this; and that if you attempt
to injure her in any way, it will be
ten times worse for you.'

So saying, Joe left the house.

`The devil is against me!' exclaimed the
man in green glasses. `Would I had killed
the girl a month ago! That would have
saved me from—ruin! That d—d Joe
will be sure to keep his word, unless I get
him the money. How shall I raise it? Ah!
I have it! Gordon has gold, and he is just
drunk enough to be desperate. I must win
of him.'

Gordon was talking with the bloated proprietor
of the establishment, across the greasy
counter. Marvin touched him on the
shoulder, and whispered in his ear.

`To be sure I will!' exclaimed Gordon.
`Ninepence the stake, did you say? I can
play higher than that, if you like.'

`Come on then,' said Marvin.

Five minutes after, the two were seated at
a small table in one corner, placed there expressly
for the accommodation of those who
chose to play at cards for small stakes, or
shake the dice-box.

`What will you play for?' asked Marvin,
shuffling the cards.

`For what you please,' replied Gordon,
with an air of recklessness.

Marvin laid down twenty-five cents.

The cards were dealt, they played, and
Gordon won. Upon which, the latter proposed
to double the stakes, to which his opponent
agreed. This time Marvin won, and
offered to bet a dollar on the next game.

At the end of half an hour the two stood
precisely as they did at the commencement,
but Marvin had succeeded in exciting his
opponent, and the stake had been raised to
five dollars.

That being rather higher playing than the
frequenters of this respectable establishment
were accustomed to witnessing, the
whole company crowded eagerly about the
players, watching the game with interest,
and casting avaricious glances at the money.

For some time the play went on with
nearly equal success, but at last Marvin began
to win, and in playing six games took
fifty dollars.

Gordon's face was flushed, his eyes twinkled
with excitement, and his fingers trembled.
He laid down ten dollars—it was the
last he had about him—and Marvin placed
ten beside it. The cards ran even, and the
players held nearly equal hands. The stake
depended upon the last trick that was taken.
Gordon played the king of trumps,
and from the way his opponent had played,
he made sure that he would not go above it,
but he was mistaken; Marvin threw down
the ace.

With an oath Gordon sprang from his
seat.

`Stop here till I come back,' he whis
pered in Marvin's ear. `I will win back
what I have lost, or I will lose more!'

`Very well.'

And Marvin quietly gathered up his money,
while Gordon rushed from the room. It
took the burglar but a minute to reach his
residence on Centre street, where he found
Mag Munson alone.

He threw down twelve and a half cents
upon the table, and ordered her to go out
and buy a bottle of whiskey. She saw that
all was not right with him, and at first refused
to go, but he uttered such a terrible
threat, and appeared so desperate and resolved,
that she took the bottle and left the
room. This was all Gordon wanted. He
hastily moved the cupboard from its place
against the wall, pried off with the shovel a
portion of the wainscoting, and took from
behind it a compact bundle. This he undid,
put about half the contents in his pocket,
and returning the remainder to the crevice
from which he had taken it, nailed up the
wainscot again, and put the cupboard in its
place.

All this time there was a pair of glaring
eyes in the dark passage beyond the door,
watching eagerly the movements of the burglar.
No sooner had Gordon replaced the
wainscot and the cupboard than those red
eyes disappeared, and a dark figure glided
down the stairs. It was Mag Munson.

Gordon hastened back to the spot where
he had left Marvin.

He found his opponent waiting, and soon
the play went on again as before. And once
more the burglar's brain was lost in a whirlwind
of excitement, of eager hope and nervous
fear, of alternate triumph and despair;
and once more the spectators crowded about
him, watching the game as closely as if they
too were concerned in the result.

Gordon lost—lost—lost!

`Shall we go on, or stop?' Marvin would
occasionally say, as he coolly added his winnings
to his increasing pile of money.

`Go on! go on!' the infatuated man

would exclaim. `It is all luck—every bit
of it—it will be my turn soon!'

But his turn never came!

In an hour the man in green glasses had
won from him more than three hundred dollars.
Gordon had but fifteen dollars remaining
in his pocket, and this he dashed upon
the table in a fit of desperation. He dealt
the cards himself, and caught them up eagerly
to see if his luck had changed.

A quiet smile passed over the features of
the man in the green glasses as he looked at
his cards, while Gordon dashed his upon the
table with an oath of rage.

`The money is yours,' said he, `but you
have cheated.'

`I have played fair,' said his opponent,
coolly.

`You lie!' thundered Gordon with a fierce
oath, shaking his fist at Marvin.

No sooner had he spoken than the man in
glasses was upon his feet, and laid Gordon
prostrate on the floor. He struck him down
as easily as if he had been a tottering child.

Stung to madness by the pain occasioned
by the blow, the burglar got up as soon as
he conveniently could in the scattered state
of his senses, and reeled towards his opponent.
The latter, having secured the money
so that the spectators could not easily
snatch it from him, in case there should be
a row, coolly folded his arms awaiting his
approach.

`For shame!' cried the gentlemanly proprietor
of the shop. `This is too bad!—
What! a fight in my respectable establishment!
Who'd ha' tho't it? No, no! 'twon't
do, no how!'

With these words, the red faced man
caught Gordon's arms, and restrained him
from doing further damage to the reputation
of his house—and the person of the man in
glasses.

The burglar saw his error in a moment,
and instead of making any hostile demonstration
towards his opponent, defied him to
await his return and play with him again—
adding fiercely that he would lose all, or win
all back once more.

Once more he entered his abode in Centre
street, and found Mag there again alone.
He cared not now if she did discover the
place where his money was concealed, for
it was his intention to take the last dollar.

Mag was sitting by the cupboard.

`Get away!' he muttered, fiercely.

His brow was black, his face flushed, his
eyes swollen and bloodshot, and his demeanor
throughout was that of a desperate villain.

Mag dared not disobey.

The burglar removed the cupboard and
once more wrenched away the wainscot.—
He thrust his hand into the cavity—

The money was not there!

With an oath he bounded upon Mag—
struck her to the floor—and grasped her
throat.

`You've got the money!' he thundered,
shaking her fiercely, and choking her till
her face was black. `Tell me where it is,
or you die!'

`The cupboard—the top shelf—' gasped
Mag.

The burglar bounded to the cupboard and
ransacked it, searching eagerly for the money;
then with a howl of disappointment and
rage, he turned fiercely about, and would
have struck the woman dead that instant.

But she was gone!