The Argosy — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

20 Edina. peace since it reached me, now three weeks ago: in fact, it has, I believe, brought on the crisis with me somewhat before it would other- wise have come. At one moment I say to myself it is a malicious invention, an infamous lie, I know my boy Frank too well to believe this, or anything else against him: the next moment I shudder at the tale and at the possibility of what may have been enacted. Perhaps through passion—or accident—or—I grow confused: I know not what I would say. ‘Oh my boy, my nephew, my dear brother Henry’s only child! my heart is aching with dismay and doubt. I do believe you are innocent of all intention to harm ; but—my sight is growing dim. Take care of yourself, ide yourself if need be (and you best know whether there be need, or not) from Blase Pellet, It is he who would be your enemy. I see it; and Andrew Float sees it ; though we know not why or wherefore. In any obscure nook of this wide world, shelter yourself from him. If he does indeed hold power in his hand, it may be your only chance of safety. I can write no more. God bless and help you ! Farewell. Your loving and anxious Uncle Hugh.” Frank Raynor may have drawn many a deep breath in his life, but never so deep a one as he drew now. Mechanically he folded the letter, and placed it in an inner pocket. “ Are you there, sir?” The question came from outside the door, in the voice of one of the servants. Frank opened it. “ Lunch is on the table, sir.” “Ys it?” returned Frank, half bewildered. ‘I—I don’t want any to-day, James. Just say so. I am going out for a stroll.” The letters from Cornwall were never delivered at Eagles’ Nest until the mid-day post. Frank took his hat, and went out ; bending his steps whithersoever they chose to take him, so that he might be alone. Strolling on mechanically, in deep thought, he plunged into a dark coppice, and asked himself what he was to do. The letter had dis- turbed him in no common degree. It had taken all his spirit, all his elasticity out of him : and that was saying a great deal of Frank Raynor. ‘I wish I could hang Blase Pellet!” he burst forth in his torment and perplexity. :“ He deserves it richly. To disturb my poor uncle with his malicious tongue! Sneak !” But Frank was unconsciously unjust. It was not Dr. Raynor that Blase Pellet had disturbed. To do Blase justice, he was vexed that the Doctor should have heard it, for he held him in great respect and would not willingly have grieved him. In an evil moment, when Blase had taken rather more to drink than was quite necessary—a very rare occurrence with him, almost unprecedented—he had dropped the dangerous words to Andrew Float. comicbooks.com