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Pinkerton, A. Frank [pseud.]

"Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express"


The only furniture in this cellar was a straw cot, on which Nell had
been laid, and a low stool. The girl felt terribly sick and weak when
she came to realize her condition.
She could understand now the truth, when too late, that she had been
enticed from home by a villain, and naturally enough her thoughts
reverted to Harper Elliston.
Yet, why should she think of that man? Surely he was not wicked enough
to stoop to anything of this kind.
Nell was not to be left long in suspense, however. The door to her
prison creaked on its hinges, and a man entered and stood confronting
her in the gray light.
It was Harper Elliston.
There was a smile on his sinister countenance, and he stroked his
beard with the coolest insolence imaginable.
"How do you find yourself this morning, my dear?" questioned Elliston
in a low voice.
"This is your work, villain!"
"Hush; don't speak in such a harsh tone, Nell," answered Mr. Elliston,
with a deprecatory wave of the hand. "I cannot permit you to impugn my
motive, Miss Darrel. I claim that all is fair in love and war. You
know from repeated assurances on my part that I love you; once I
wished to make you my wife. Blame me not if I have changed my mind on
that score; it is you who have driven me to it.


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