Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 212: what you’re looking at

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

GUY HAMMERSLEY. 203 He did so and found that, so far as the exterior, at any rate, was concerned, it was just as he had left it. Paying no heed to the cries that came from within, he crossed the passage-way to the butler’s pantry, where he found a stairway leading to the basement. He knew the outside doors were locked, and he was debating with himself whether he would be justified in breaking his way out through a window, when he heard footsteps on the porch overhead. He started to hurry back to meet the newcomers, but could not at once recall by which door he had entered the large kitchen in which he now found himself. He opened two only to find that they led, the one to the cellar, the other to the laundry, and had just hurriedly thrown back a third, when a heavy hand gripped him by the shoulder and a voice of strong German accent exclaimed in his ear: ‘‘ Ha, I haf younow. Here, Carl, help me wid the young rascal. Augusta, Augusta, run into the laundry and bring a clothes line till we bind him.” Meanwhile Guy was struggling not only to free himself bodily from the firm grip in which he was held, but to exculpate himself morally from whatever charge should be brought against him. The nature ef this he could easily guess. He had been found in the basement of a house that was supposed to be locked up, and had been taken for a thief. However, he had no fear but that he could easily explain matters. Besides, there were Mrs. Westmore and her daughter to bear witness to his story. But up to the present moment he had gained not the slightest headway in this direction, With two men Gomicboo “S (€(0) m