The Argosy — page 96: what you’re looking at

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

84 Edina, Sir Philip Stane’s hand was already on the door handle, letting him- self out with a short “ good morning.” Away went the Major, hunting for Alice. He found her with her mother. Hotly and explosively he gave an account of the interview: of what he called the mercenary conduct of Sir Philip and William Stane. Poor Alice tuned hot and cold; flushed red and white by turns. She took up the indignity—as she was pleased to think it— quite as resentfully as the Major. “TI forbid you to have anything to do with him after this, Alice. I forbid you to see him more.” “You need not forbid me, papa,” was the answer. “TI should not think of it.” Major Raynor was one who could not keep in anything, good or bad, especially any grievance. He went about the house looking for Charles and Frank, that he might impart the news and so let off a little of his superfluous anger. But he could not find either of them. Matters, during the past two or three weeks, had been going on as usual. Daisy was progressing so far towards recovery that she could sit at the open window of her chamber and revel in the balmy air, while feasting her eyes with the beauteous landscape. Charles was in a little extra trouble; for he had been written to twice upon the subject of the fifty pound bill that was over-due. And Frank, out- wardly gay as the flowers of May, was inwardly on thorns and nettles. That that mysterious personage, the Tiger, was wasting his days and his hours at Grassmere on Frank Raynor’s account, Frank felt per- suaded of. To him it seemed a fact indisputable. The man did not molest him; he did not appear to take particular notice of him; he had not yet accosted him: but Frank knew that all the while he was craftily watching his movements, to see that he did not escape. In fact, he knew that the Tiger was the spy of Blase Pellet. The espionage was growing intolerable to Frank. And on this very day, just about the time that Sir Philip Stane was at Eagles’ Nest, he flung prudence to the winds, and questioned the enemy. The Tiger had wandered as near to the house as he could go without being guilty of a positive trespass: and Frank, chancing to turn out of what was called the Beach walk, came upon him face to face. It was the first time they had thus closely met. For a full minute they gazed at each other. The Tiger stood his ground, and quietly took from his pocket a small note-case of brown morocco leather, with the initials “C. R.” stamped upon it in gilt. ‘Does this belong to you?” questioned the Tiger. “Not to me,” replied Frank. “ But I believe it belongs to my cousin, Mr. Raynor.” “T picked it up a few minutes agoas I was strolling along, Perhaps you will be so good as give it to its owner.” gle comicbooks.com