The Cleverdale Mystery; or, The Machine and Its Wheels. W. A. Wilkins

CLEVERDALE'S SORROW.

       CHAPTER XXVIII.

       AMONG THE HILLS OF COLORADO.

       CHAPTER XXIX.

       POOR MARY HARRIS.

       CHAPTER XXX.

       THE ATTEMPTED SUICIDE.

       CHAPTER XXXI.

       A REVELATION.

       "A SAD TRAGEDY.

       CHAPTER XXXII.

       THE WANDERER'S RETURN.

       CHAPTER XXXIII.

       RETRIBUTIVE JUSTICE.

       CHAPTER XXXIV.

       THE CLEVERDALE MYSTERY.

       CHAPTER XXXV.

       EPILOGUE—THE MACHINE AND ITS WHEELS.

PREFACE.

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      In presenting this volume to the public, the author hopes to impart information to some; reflect their own character to others; possibly point a moral, and by the tale interest the reader.

      The warp of the fabric is reality, the woof fiction, the coloring domestic.

      Awaiting the verdict,

      Respectfully,

      THE AUTHOR.

CHARACTERS.

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      Hon. Darius Hamblin—State Senator and Political "Boss."

       Hon. Walter Mannis—State Assemblyman; one of the "Boss's" Lieutenants.

       Assemblyman Daley—Bolting candidate.

       Cyrus Hart Miller—Wily country politician.

       George Alden—Bank officer; hero; lover.

       Sargent—Purchasable commodity, convenient to his owner.

       Joe Rawlings—Editor; wise; in the market.

       Paddy Sullivan—Pothouse politician; an important factor.

       Farmer Johnson—Honest; cheap; "Let me speak to you privately!" George Horton—Chairman of County Committee; fertile in schemes. Farmer Harris—Avenger. Belle Hamblin—Sweetheart; oppressed by a father's ambition. Fannie Alden—Self-sacrificing sister. Mary Harris—Betrayed. Mrs. Darius Hamblin—Model mother. Mrs. Nash—Good Samaritan. Campers, Factory Bosses, Villagers, Miners, Politicians, and other incidental characters.

      THE

      Cleverdale Mystery.

CHAPTER I.

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BEAUTIFUL LAKE GEORGE.

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      The world is full of charming spots that seem to be the original site of Paradise, but none show more perfectly the grace and grandeur of the Creator's handiwork than Lake George. Its limpid waters reflect the outlines of numerous islands—one for each calendar day of the year, yet each possessing beauties distinctly its own. The mirror of the lake's surface is framed by mountains of varying shape and size, yet each with special charms, while between them nestle lovely valleys, over which the eye never tires of roaming. In summer, every isle, hill, and valley is glorious with verdure; in winter they are dazzling in snowy vesture; but no matter what the season or condition, the lake and its surroundings are a constant source of delight to those who are fortunate enough to dwell on its shore.

      It is to the credit of humanity that Lake George is a favorite place of resort during the summer, and that hundreds of families delight in building permanent summer homes there. Beautiful villas, picturesque hotels, tasteful cottages, unique cabins, and snowy tents abound on the water's marge, and pleasure boats of all sorts dance gaily on its waves. The vulgar, the dissipated, and stupid classes that haunt summer resorts seem to avoid Lake George; even humanity seems to endeavor to be in keeping with its surroundings at this beautiful retreat, and fair women, robust, active men, and healthy children are the rule at this modern Eden.

      On the forward deck of a steamer that ploughed its way through the crystal waters on a bright summer day in 187– was a small party, consisting of Hon. Darius Hamblin, Mrs. Hamblin, Miss Belle Hamblin, and two little boys, George and Willie, aged respectively ten and six, with their nurse.

      The Hon. Darius, a man of fifty-five, had served his district as New York State Senator at Albany for two terms. He possessed excellent judgment, and knew this so well that no one could help seeing that he was vain and inclined to be arbitrary in his manner. Mrs. Hamblin was a small, brown-haired lady, with whom time had dealt so gently that the unwelcome and indelible lines of approaching age had been sparingly distributed across a sweet and placid countenance.

      Devoting her whole attention to the wants and pleasures of her children, she was not merely a kind mother, for with dignity and power she held the reins firmly in her grasp, although the high-spirited boys tightly champed the bits.

      While the mother, as she sat on the steamer's deck, was all attention to her youthful treasures, the father discussed the politics and finances of the country with several gentlemen whom he chanced to meet. Thoroughly engrossed in conversation, he scarce noticed his daughter Belle, who, affectionately taking his arm, called attention to a landing the steamer was about to make.

      As the boat drew in, there was seen a gathering bevy of males and females. Small row-boats hovered near the little coves surrounding the dock, and as great waves from the Horicon's paddles dashed their snow-crested tops upon the rocks, the little craft danced upon the water, some girlish voices uttering exclamations of fear for their owners' safety. Several persons leaving the steamer were quickly surrounded by friends gathered to meet them.

      In a moment the captain cried, "All aboard!" The