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[Illustration: "I ARREST YOU FOR THE MURDER OF VICTORIA VANE."]
FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD
BY FRANK PINKERTON
1886
CHAPTER I.
THE TRAMP.
"Will you give me a glass of water, please?"
A ragged, bearded tramp stood before the door of a cottage near the
outskirts of a country village, and propounded this question to a pretty
girl who stood in the door.
"In a moment."
The girl disappeared, soon returning with a pitcher.
She went to the pump near, and soon had the pitcher running over with
sparkling water.
"I will bring a cup."
"Needn't mind."
The tramp lifted the pitcher and quaffed the water as though he enjoyed
it.
His eyes were not pleasant as he turned them keenly on the pretty face of
the girl.
"Folks at home?"
"No."
"All alone, eh?"
"Yes; but Ransom will be around soon--my brother."
The eyes of the tramp glittered. He seemed to delight in reading the
fresh young face before him.
"Nobody at home, eh?" he grunted. "Mebbe I'd better go in and rest a bit.
Any objections?"
"Yes. If you are hungry I'll bring you food out here."
It was a pleasant day, and the sun was warm without being hot, a rare
enjoyable day in June.
It seemed to the girl that there could be no excuse for a stout man like
the one before her tramping and begging through the country.
"Why do you not work?" she said.
"I wasn't born that way," and he chuckled unpleasantly.
The girl hurried into the house.
His Trampship followed.
She was not a little alarmed at finding the ill-looking fellow close at
her heels. She feared and dared not anger him.
Placing a chair at a table, she bade him be seated, and then she hastened
to set before him bread, milk and cold meat.
"The best the house affords, eh?" he chuckled, as he sat up to the
repast. "The very best."
"And it's good enough for a king."
Then he fell to and ate ravenously.
The girl walked to the door and gazed uneasily down the road.
"Brother comin'?"
"I do not see him."
"What's your name?"
The tramp was inquisitive.
"Vane."
"Eh? Is that a fact?"
The stout fellow started and regarded the girl fixedly.
"Is the name a familiar one?" questioned the girl after a moment, anxious
to conciliate the man. Her nearest neighbor was at least a quarter mile
distant, and the house was concealed by a clump of trees, so that the
girl felt that she was at the mercy of this burly, ill-looking stranger,
should he attempt violence.
"Vane, Vane," he muttered. "Reckon I've heard the name before. And you're
Victory, I reckon?"
"Victoria."
"Exactly. Sister to Rance Vane. I know'd that chap onct, and I found him
not a man, but a scamp. I never liked the Vanes, father'n son. The old
man's dead, I s'pose?"
"Yes."
"How long sense?"
"More than a year."
"Good 'nough. He wa'nt o' much account."
The tramp's eyes seemed to become suddenly bloodshot. He shoved from the
table, and rose to his feet.
The girl hoped to see him go, but he made no move to do so.
"You live alone with your brother?" he queried, suddenly.
"Most of the time."
"Victory, did ye ever hear Rance speak of Perry Jounce?"
The man leered at her in a way that sent a chill over her.
"Never."
"No? Wal, he didn't like me. I reckin I'll hev a kiss afore I go,
anyhow."
He began to move toward her. She started to escape through the open door,
but was not quick enough. The man's hand grasped her arm and she felt
herself drawn toward him.
Then Victoria Vane uttered a piercing scream.
"Stop that yellin', you fool!" hissed the tramp. He drew her to him and
bent to press his bearded lips to her cheek.
On the instant another person appeared upon the scene.
A bunch of bones collided with the bull neck of the tramp, sending him
reeling across the floor.
Victoria darted to the arms of the new-comer, a young man, tall, slender
and of prepossessing appearance, clad in hunter's costume.
"Oh, August, save me!" screamed the girl.
"Scoundrel!" cried the young hunter, presenting a rifle at the breast of
the tramp. "What do you mean by this assault on a lady?"
There was a horrible expression in the eyes of the tramp, and on the
instant he slipped from concealment a large knife to his hand.
"Stand aside, Miss Vane," the hunter said to the girl. "I will learn this
scoundrel a lesson."
Victoria obeyed, standing back against the wall, pale and frightened,
while the last comer confronted the burly tramp with his rifle cocked for
instant use.
"Let me go out, August Bordine."
So the tramp seemed to recognize the youthful hunter.
"I ought to turn you over to the authorities for punishment," declared
the young man, sternly.
"'T won't do you no good," grunted the tramp, "I hain't done nothing."
"I will leave it to Miss Vane."
Then he glanced at the girl.
The tramp began to glide toward the door.
"Stop!" thundered August Bordine. Then to the girl, "Miss Vane, I await
your decision."
"Permit him to go then. I wish no further trouble," said Victoria.
"But he really ought to be punished. He certainly deserves ninety days in
prison at the least," declared the young hunter.
"Let me go, Miss, I didn't mean nothin' wrong," whined the man who had
called himself Perry Jounce.
"Let him go," said Victoria.
The hunter lowered his gun and the tramp passed into the outer air. He
hurriedly left the vicinity, but before he had passed from sight, he
turned his face toward the cottage, and shook a chinched hand toward the
open door in which stood two forms--Victoria and August Bordine.
"Curse you, August Bordine!" hissed the coarse lips. "I'll make you
repent this interference, I swear I will. You shall swing some day, and
I'll be there to hear your neck crack!"
Then he turned about and disappeared in a clump of trees beside the road.
Victoria Vane and the young hunter were near enough to notice the
movement of the baffled tramp, but neither heard his vindictive words. It
might have been well for them had they done so.
Victoria clung to the young hunter's arm after the departure of Jounce,
and seemed a long time in recovering from her fright.
"There's no further danger," declared Bordine, "so just calm your fears.
I will remain until your brother returns."
"You are very kind, August."
After a little the young man quietly disengaged her hands from his arm
and led her to a seat.
"There, rest yourself, Victoria, while I look about the premises."
He snatched his gun and moved toward the door.
"Don't leave me, August."
"There is not the least danger now. That tramp will not return."
"He may."
"I will not be far away. If you were so fearful why did you not permit me
to take him to prison?"
"I don't know. I did not wish to appear against him, I suppose."
August Bordine smiled at the look that came to the face of the girl.
He had known Victoria Vane and her brother for several months. He was
never prepossessed in favor of her brother, and he often thought her
"soft," to use a vulgar expression.
"I do believe the girl would make love to me if I would permit it, by
giving her the least encouragement. The Vanes are queer and no mistake,"
remarked Bordine, to a young lady of his acquaintance, living in an
adjoining town.
Rose Alstine was plain and sensible, and took no offense at her lover's
referring to Miss Vane. Why should she? She knew that genial August
Bordine was true as steel and generous and sympathetic to a fault.
Trouble was coming, however, that was to try the young girl's faith as it
had never been tried before.
Back of Ridgewood village was a forest of large extent, bordering on a
narrow stream. This woods was owned by an Eastern capitalist and he had
as yet permitted no woodman's ax to resound in its depths.
Game abounded, and the woods was the frequent resort for amateur hunters,
among them the young civil engineer, August Bordine.
It was his frequent visits to Eastman's woods with gun and game-bag that
brought him in frequent contact with the Vanes, and especially Victoria,
who, during the short space of a few months, had become violently smitten
with the handsome face and gentlemanly bearing of the young engineer.
It was this fact that determined Bordine to shorten his stay at the
cottage on the day in question.
"There isn't the least danger," assured August, as he lifted his gun to
the hollow of his arm and prepared to depart from the Vane cottage.
"Then you will not stay?"
Tears actually stood in the blue eyes of Miss Vane.
"Good gracious! Vic, what a baby," and he laughed aloud.
He stepped to her side, however, and as her face pale, pretty, even
though babyish, was upturned to his he could not resist the temptation,
and he bent and kissed her full upon the pouting lips.
Then a pair of soft arms were wound quickly about his neck, and a voice
whispered softly:
"Why can't you stay with me always, August?"
He tore himself loose instantly, a guilty feeling entering his heart. He
was acting the hypocrite with a vengeance, and it did not agree with his
honorable nature.
"Confound it, Miss Vane, what a tease you are. There comes your brother
now, and I must away."
"You will call when you return from your hunt?"
"Perhaps."
He then passed outside.
A single horseman was riding slowly down the forest road toward the
village.
He must needs pass the cottage.
August Bordine had called the traveler Victoria's brother. He saw his
mistake as he passed out, but did not deem it necessary to rectify it.
He swung his rifle to his shoulder, and moved, with a long stride, toward
the nearest point of woods.
Vaulting a fence, he crossed a bit of clearing and entered a clump of
trees.
Here he paused and looked back.
The strange horseman had halted at the cottage, and was conversing with
Victoria.
Bordine saw him lift his hat politely, and knew that it was no tramp this
time who craved favor at the cottage.
"I don't think the girl will require my presence this time," muttered the
young engineer.
She did, however, as the sequel proved.
Bordine, whistling softly, turned away and plunged deeply into the
forest.