Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 123: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

114 GUY HAMMERSLEY. hands off other people’s things. She thinks I don’t know, but I do.” Guy knew not what to answer, nor how to console the poor old man. But he wrung his hand witha pressure that he meant to express sympathy, and then added : ‘‘One thing before I go, the question that brought me here to-night, in fact : Does Mr. Brad- ford live in this house ?”’ ‘‘No ; it is two doors west from here, the second flat.” ‘‘Thank you ; good night,” and taking Jack, now almost dead from sleep, by the hand, Guy hastily departed. And as he got out into the pure night air and saw the stars twinkling down so peacefully, he thought ofthe precious paper in his breast pocket, and hoped he was not selfish in giving way to the rush of glad- ness that swept through his heart. For his joy meant deep grief to the two inmates of the apartment he had just left. Still, in the case of one it might be a sorrow that would work out the fruit of repentance. He said nothing to Jack about the strange scene of which the boy had been a witness. He hoped he had been too sleepy to pay much attention to it. As they approached the doorway of which Mr. Crapfel had told them, they saw a man just ascend- ing the steps. He turned his head as he heard their footsteps behind him. ‘Quick, give me the bag,” whispered Jack. ‘* Maybe it’s Uncle John.” With a smile in the darkness at the odd means of identification, Guy passed the heavier valise over to Eomichbooks (€©@) m