The Argosy — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

102 Lady Grace. terrified girl, who had drawn away from her lover, with a gasp. ‘“‘ Have you no sense of shame? To your room, I say.” Closing the door after her retreating figure, the Canon turned his wrath upon Charles. ‘‘ How dare you appear at this house?” Charles knew what that wrath meant, and strove to arm himself for the contest. ‘ There’s no reason, sir, why I should not appear,” he was beginning, when the Sub-dean stopped him, all the floodgates of his temper let loose. To Charles’s confused astonishment, he found that all was known. The repudiated bill for jewellery ; the lady with painted cheeks on his arm at the theatre ; the disreputable ballet girls on his blotting- pad. The last item had been confidentially mentioned that afternoon by the Bishop of Denham. Meeting Dr. Dynevor on his return to town, the Doctor, full of wrath, even then, had told the prelate about Charles and the Hay- market episode, upon which the Bishop, sadly put out for Charles’s sake, reciprocated the information by telling of the pen-and-ink sketches. “ He is going to the—ahem !—to the bad all one way,” growled the Sub-dean—and would have said the “ deuce,” but remembered to whom he was talking. Charles stood speechless, literally not knowing what defence to make, ‘Will it be of any use my denying this, sir?” he asked in a pause of the storm. “Denying it! To me? Does this impudence become you, Charles Baumgarten ?” “It would not become me, sir, if it were true. But—nay, pray hear me for a moment, Dr. Dynevor—it is not true. I declare to you, sir, as truthfully as I can ever speak in this world, that, so far as I am concerned, it is all false. It was not I who did this.” Dr. Dynevor glared at him through his spectacles. “JT did not buy any jewellery, and I did not accept the bill; I was not at the theatre or out of my chambers that night ; and I cannot tell who it was that drew the figures on the blotting-pad. I did not know they were there until the Bishop spoke. Do you believe me, sir?” * Believe you! I believe you to be a rascal, unworthy to remain inside my house. I will trouble you to go out of it.” The Sub-dean rang the bell. “The door for Mr. Charles Baum- garten,” he said to the servant. Charles splashed through the streets in the mud and the rain, for it had turned out a boisterous night, wondering whether he should ever be able to clear himself, and whether the police would be able to fathom the mystery if he called them to his aid. (To be continued. ) ‘ \ comicbooks.com