The Argosy — page 120: what you’re looking at

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

108 The Master of Greylands. best of them. Nothing will turn me from my course in this matter save the proofs I have asked for. Good-day, Uncle Peter.” He put on his coat, and went forth into the street. There he halted ; looking this way and that way, as though uncertain of his route. ‘* A few doors on the right hand, on the other side the market-house,” he repeated to himself. “Then I must cross the street, and so onwards.” He crossed over, went on past the market-house, and looked atten- tively at the doors on the other side. On one of those doors was a brass plate: “Mr. Knivett, attorney-at-law.” Anthony Castlemaine rang the bell, asked if the lawyer was at home, and sent in one of his cards, ‘He was shown into a small back room. At a table, strewn with papers and pens, sat a little old man with a bald head, who was evidently regarding the card with the utmost astonishment. He turned his spectacles on Anthony. “Do I see Mr. Knivett, the avoué ?” he asked, substituting for once a French term for an English one, perhaps unconsciously. ‘“I am Mr. Knivett, sir, attorney-at-law.” ‘In the frank, free way that s eemed so especially to characterise him Anthony Castlemaine put out his hand, as to a friend. ‘You knew my father well, sir. Will you receive his son for old memories’ sake ? ” “Your father?” asked Mr. Knivett questioningly : but nevertheless meeting the hand with his own. “ Basil Castlemaine. He who went away so long ago from Greylands'’ Rest.” “Bless my heart!” cried Mr. Knivett, snatching off his glasses in his surprise. “Basil Castlemaine! I never thought to hear of him again. Why it must be—ay, since he left, it must be hard upon five- and-thirty years! Is he come back ?” Anthony had again to go over the old story. His father’s doings abroad and his father’s death, and his father’s charge to him to come home and claim his paternal inheritance: he rehearsed it all. Mr. Knivett, who had put his spectacles on again, never ceased gazing at the relator. Not for a moment did any doubt occur to him that the young man was other than he represented himself to be: the face was the face of a Castlemaine, and of a truthful gentleman. “ But I have come to you, not only to show myself to a friend of my poor father’s in his youth, but also as a client,” proceeded Anthony, after a short while. “I have need of a lawyer’s advice, which I am prepared to pay for according to the charges of the English country. Will you advise me, sir? ™ “To be sure,” replied Mr. Knivett. ‘What advice is it that you want?” “First of all, sir—In the days when my father was at home, you were EcoMmicloookKks (C(O) in —_)