The Argosy — page 278: what you’re looking at

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

260 The Master of Greylands. They were in their ordinary room, facing the sea. The door stood open as usual, but a screen of two folds now intervened between the fire-place and the draught. John sat in his carved elbow-chair ; Mrs. Bent stood by, folding clothes at the table ; which was drawn near the fire from its place under the window. “T tell you, then, John Bent, you might be taken up and prosecuted for it,” she said, sprinkling the linen so vigorously that some splashes went on his face. ‘‘ Keeping other people’s letters !” ‘The letters are directed here, to my house, Dorothy woman ; and I shall keep them till some proper person turns up to receive them,” was John’s answer, delivered without irritation as he wiped his face. ‘“The proper person is Mr. Castlemaine. Just take your elbow away: you'll be upsetting the basin. He 1s the young man’s uncle.” ‘“’ Now look here, wife. You've said that before, and once for all I tell you I'll not do it. Mr. Castlemaine is the last person in the world I’d hand the letters to. What would he do with them ?-—Put 'em in the fire, I dare be bound. If, as I believe; I believe it to my very heart ; Mr. Castlemaine took his nephew’s life that night in the Friar’s Keep——’” ‘‘ Hist!” said Mrs. Bent, the rosy colour on her face fading as a sound caught her ear; ‘‘hist, man!” And, for once more alarmed than angry, she looked behind the screen, and found herself face to face with Ethel Reene. ‘¢ Mercy be good to us!” she exclaimed, seeing by the young lady’s white face that they had been overheard. And, scarcely knowing what she did, she dragged the horror-stricken girl into the kitchen, before John. ‘‘Now you've done it!” she cried, turning upon him. ‘“ You'd better pack up and be off to jail: for if Miss Ethel tells the Master of Greylands what she has heard, he'll put you there.” ‘¢ No, he won’t,” said John, full of contrition for the mischief he had done, but nevertheless determined not to eat his words, and believing ' the suspicion must have reached the young lady sooner or later. “You cannot think this of papa!” said Ethel, sinking into a chair. “Well, Miss Ethel, it is a great mystery, as you must know,” said the landlord, who had risen. ‘I think the Master of Greylands’ could solve it if he liked.” ‘¢But—but, Mr. Bent, what you said is most dreadful !” ‘I’m heartily sorry you chanced to overhear it, Miss Ethel. There's no cause to wink at me like that, wife. The words are said, and I can’t unsay them.” “ But—do—you—believe it?” gasped Ethel. ‘Yes, he does believe it,” burst forth Mrs. Bent, losing sight of prudence in her anger against her husband. “If he does not get into some awful trouble one of these days through his tongue, his name's ECORNICLOOO SS (CO) in —_)