The Argosy — page 188: what you’re looking at

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

172 The Master of Greylands. “Really and truly, sir. What an unfortunate circumstance! A few days, and you would have tided it over.” ‘* But where are they all?” ‘“‘Qutside in the street, kicking and thumping at the doors and windows ; a great crowd of them by this time, and getting a bigger one every minute. We managed to get the doors shut, and then put down the shutters.” Mr. Castlemaine drew his hand across his aching brow. ‘I think this must have been caused by Fosbrook; he may have let an incautious word drop.” } ‘“‘ He'd not do it, sir,” ‘Not intentionally; for his own sake. I knew it boded no good when I found he meant to stay on at the Turk’s Head. Alas! alas!” - ‘There has not been a regular stoppage,” said Thomas Hill. ‘“ And if we ca manage to get assistance, and open again to-morrow morn- ing “Don’t, Hill,” interrupted the banker, in a tone of painful wailing. * Don’t speak of hope! There’s no hope left.” ‘‘ But, sir, when the remittances, which we expect, come——” ** Hush: look here.” Mr. Peter Castlemaine pushed an open letter towards his clerk. The old man’s hands trembled as he held it; his face grew whiter as he mastered the contents. Hope was indeed gone. The worst had come. An embargo, or lien, had been laid in London upon the expected remittances. “Did you get this letter this morning, sir? Why did you not tell me? It would have been better to have stopped then.” “T got it ten minutes ago, Thomas. It was sent from town by a special messenger in a post-chaise and four; which, of course, the estate will be charged with. He came, by mistake I suppose, to the private door ; or perhaps he saw the crowd round the public one; and he gave the letter into my own hands, saying he would take my instructions back to town to-morrow morning, if I hadany. All’s over.” Too truly did Thomas Hill feel the force of the words. All was over. But for this last great misfortune, this lien upon the expected remittances, they might have weathered the storm. The few past days had gone,on pretty quietly, and every day, passed without exposure, was so much gained. The Master of Greylands, when applied to by his brother for a loan, had listened, and placed at the bank’s disposal a fairly good sum: not enough, not half enough, for what it was wanted to stop, but still a great help. ‘Even now,” began Thomas Hill, breaking the depressing silence, ‘even now, sir, if a meeting were called, and a statement of facts properly laid before the creditors, they might consent to allow time.” “Time!” echoed Mr. Peter Castlemaine. ‘ What, with this yelling ECoOMmicloooks (C(O) in —_)