The Argosy — page 106: what you’re looking at

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

04 Edina. “But it has no right to be true ; it ought not to be true,” disputed Charley in his dreadful perplexity. ‘Who is George Atkinson that he should inherit Eagles’ Nest? The fellow lives at the other end of the world. In Australia, or somewhere. Frank, it’s not “ely. It would be a frightful injustice; a cruel shame. It has been ours for twelve months; who will wrest it from us now?” And truly, having enjoyed Eagles’ Nest for all that while, regarding it as theirs, living at it in perfect security, it did appear to be a most improbable thing that it should now pass away from them; almost an impossibility. “Charley, we must keep this letter to ourselves until we know more. I am almost glad my uncle is ill; it would have shocked him so——” “And how long will it be before we do know more?” broke in Charles, who was in a humour for finding fault with everybody, espe- cially the lawyer. “Street ought to have come down, no matter at what inconvenience. A pretty state of suspense, this, to be placed ih!” “ Drink your coffee, Charley.” “Coffee? Oh, I don’t want it now.” The unfortunate news left Charles no inclination for coffee. Of all the calamities, falling or threatened, that had been making him so uneasy, this was the worst. The worst? The rest were but as light mishaps in the balance. Frank, with all his sunny-heartedness, could impart no comfort. The only possible ray of comfort to be discerned lay in the hope that the tidings would turn out not to be true. A hope which grew fainter with every minute’s thought. To remain in this suspense was nothing less than torture. It was hastily decided between them that Frank should go up to town, see Mr. Street, and learn more. He had no scruple in doing this: Major Raynor was decidedly better; in no immediate danger, as Frank be- lieved ; and Dr. Selfe was close at hand in case of need. Frank lost no time ; hastening to the station, and looking in on Dr. Selfe on his way, to explain that important business was calling him for a few hours to London. Mr. Street’s residence was near Euston Square, and his offices were in the same house. The moming was well advanced when Frank got there and was shown into the lawyer's pre- sence. He seemed to look less genial than of yore, as he sat sideways at a table covered with papers, his right foot on a rest: his hair was certainly more scanty; his light eyes, seen so clearly through his spectacles, were colder. Frank, who, as it chanced, had never seen him, thought what a hard little man he looked. “Ah, yes; a sad affair,” he remarked, as Frank in a few words introduced himself and his business. ‘Very embarrassing for the Major.” “ But I should hope it cannot be true, Mr. Street?” “ That what cannot be true ?—that there’s a later will in-existence ? comicbooks.com |