The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1888-06-06
.sNo, I saw NO ghost.


No, Isaw no ghost. :,
Well, / did, and so did Bill an,
the ould divil himself there, too.
ready to holler for the cops Had
to give him a sore throat to ret at
the stone closet, and found the chist
guarded by a great, starin. ghost.
Fiends and furies!''
The white figure had risen sud-
denly, as though come out of the
ground, the long spectraf-like arms
extended.
With a cry of terror, the cap
tain disappeared. Close at his heels
followed Bill, and John Newcomb
was left alone with his mysterious
charge.
@oh, SIR pity mel save nel@ she
And tottering forward she again
fell fainting in his arms.
He heard a strange gurgling
sound issuing from the ceIler-lfke
human tones choked and cut off in
their utterance.
John was as brave as a lion. He
knew the danger of entering the
house at this moment, but hesitated
not an instant.
Still holding the light figure in
his arms, he sprang through the
celler window. The lantern stood
on the floor.
The window through which he
had entered was the only outside
opening, and closing its solid
wooden shutters behind him, he was
alone with midnight horror.
An old, whito-haired man lay mp
on the floor, gaping wound in his
throat, from which life blood was
swiftly flowing.
John gently deposited his uncon-
scious burden on the floor, and just
as he did SO the old mans strug-
Cling breath ceased forever.
The helpless girl now claimed all
his attention, and as he looked
down at the white face it almost
seemed that death had done its work
there also.
Taking flask of brandy from
his pocket, he forced few drops Of
it between the pale lips, chafed the
little cold hands, and soon the ietty
fringes disentangled themselves
and pair of soft, black eyes looked
inquiringly, but trustingly, into his
"Where am II What has hap
pened2 Who are you?" she asked
attempting to rise.
She seemed scarcely eighteen
with weired sort of beauty and /,
sweet voice, that went straight t.
Johns heart.
AS gently as possible, he told hel
what had occurred.
'tI am glad he is dead He wa
called my guardian, but he starved
and abused me, kept me a prisoner
in the celler, and my money locked
in an iron box-ten thousand dol
lars. There it is" pointing to til,
closet. "You may have it all, i
you will take me away from here,
and she struggled to her feet
"Ughl L don't want to look at him,
she said, averting her face.
"Certaihly not, my dear childl'
said John, stepping forward, ane
covering the hideous face with hi
handkerchief. Turning again to
ward her, sudden impulse seizet
him.
81 will take you away from here
take good care of you and youl
money-if you will marry me-" he
said.
She looked at him critically for {
moment from under her long, black
lashes, and then said, simply.
"Yes, I will
The tragedy made only one more
turn in the always shifting kaleidos
cope of New York crime. John
Newcomb's real connection with il
was never suspected; and, feeling
innocent of the mans blood, he
made no special effort to implicatt
himself. The murderers could moi
be identified, but the .'pirates re-
treat was Immediately broken up
John took his gfrl-wife and bel
ten thousand dollars, which he
found safe in the iron box, and went
West. Her physical health wa.
thus restored, and Johns moral
health also.
Years afterward, in the Western
wilds, he was forced to witness the
execution of a couple of horse -thiyes,
condemned by the stern court of
Judge Lynch. And when he re.