The Argosy, January 1907 — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

AN The other nodded. “"That’s the name my friends know me by,’”’ he replied, in a voice raucous from much whisky-and-water. ‘“ My proper name is Jonathan Mimbury.” “Oh!” said Mr. Scales, with an un- comfortable feeling that he had suffered a rebuke for undue familiarity. “ Mr. Butterworth spoke to me about you.” “Ah!” said Mr..Mimbury. “ He's a real good friend, Mr. Butterworth is, and any friends of his is also friends of mine.” Mr. Scales could not help wondering whether he would~-in future be classed by his villainous-looking visitor among his intimates. “| want you to steal a dog for me,” he said, coming to the point at once. Mr. Mimbury, who was accustomed to having delicate subjects approached in a more roundabout fashion, looked.shocked. ‘Steal a dog, sir?’ he repeated, in pained surprise. ‘“‘ That’s a matter of jail—or maybe penitentiary. Besides, it’s sinful.” “"There’s no question of penitentiary in this case,’”’ Mr. Scales replied reassur- ingly. “It’s my own dog—at least, it belongs to a relation of mine, which comes to the same thing.” Mr. Mimbury looked dubious. “IT got into trouble once,” he: said, “through stea—through having a,dog follow me. It belonged to a cousin of the gentleman as wanted it, and the fuss he made over it you’d hardly believe. He actually wanted to have us both jailed.”’ Mr. Scales impatiently waved aside this precedent as by no means analogous, and in,a few words made his visitor ac- quainted with the facts of the case. Mr. Mimbury’s expression at once changed from perplexity and reproach to pleased acquiescence. ‘'That’s easy enough,” he said. “ You let him out for a bit of a run in the lane when you go home for lunch, and ll be there with a little something in my pocket that I know the secret of. That dog’d follow me anywhere—into a church, even.” Impressed by his visitor’s confidence in his own powers, Mr. Scales handed over a five-dollar bill. “Of course, you keep the dog,” he 3 A EXPENSIVE BOARDER. 225 said. ‘“ And mind—not a word to any one about this. I particularly don’t want my wife to know.” Mr. Mimbury winked with his blind eye in a ghastly fashion and took his departure, faithfully promising to be on hand at the time appointed. *K ok * > ok When Mr. Scales returned home for luncheon he met, descending the steps of his house, an austere-looking female with a cold gray eye whose garments seemed to have been hewn out of a block of wood. ‘Good morning, Miss Merryweather,” said Mr. Scales, lifting his hat. “I was sorry to hear that you had lost your cat.” Miss Merryweather received her neigh- bor’s salutation with marked frigidity. “I did lose it, Mr. Scales,” she said, articulating her words with great dis- tinctness. ‘‘ But I have recovered it.” Mr. Scales stared at her open-mouthed. “Recovered it?” he repeated faintly. “No wonder you look surprised,” the lady continued, “particularly after the as.drances I received from Mrs. Scales that neither she nor you knew anything of its disappearance.” “Will you kindly explain?” Mr. Scales interrupted, with a poor attempt at dignity. “There is very little to explain, Mr. Scales,’ Miss Merryweather replied. “This morning I was looking out of one of my rear windows, when I noticed a dog—a most disreputable-looking dog, I must say—digging furiously in a corner of your garden. I watched him with some little curiosity, wondering what he could be so busy about. My interest was soon rewarded. Out of the hole which he had dug he dragged the body ’— Miss Merryweather’s voice trembled, but she mastered her emotion—“ the body, Mr. Scales, of my poor. cat.” “Good Heavens, Miss Merry- weather!” Mr. Scales cried, in admi- rably counterfeited surprise and indigna- tion. “ That miserable dog! We are taking charge of him for a few days to oblige Mrs. Scales’s cousin. He must have caught your cat in the garden and killed and buried it. Extraordinary what a mania dogs seem to have for burying things.” CORNICGLOOOK< (S@)