The Argosy — page 329: what you’re looking at

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

Parkwater. 315 Away tore Mr. Castlerosse to the station of the electric telegraph. Nobody was there who could send a message: it was beyond hours. Mr. Castlerosse stormed and bribed, and a porter ran for the telegraph clerk. More storming, more bribing: and at length a message was flashed to the head office in London, and Mr. Castlerosse returned to the inn to sleep. Frederick Lyvett was also sleeping there. For, as Mr. Castlerosse ascended the stairs to his bedroom he saw a door opened in the corm- ° dor, and a pair of boots thrust out by an arm ina shirt-sleeve. Whether the half-dressed gentleman saw him, he did not know, but he recognised Frederick Lyvett. “Ah ha, Master Fred, my boy !” he thought, “ you'll get a pill, perhaps, instead of a wife.” He did not attempt to see and reason with him. Instinct told him it would be useless. He preferred to leave that to Mr. Lyvett, who would be down by the earliest train. + At six o’clock the following morning, Mr. Castlerosse was up, and away to the railway station; where he had the pleasure of sitting on the bench outside for nearly an hour before it was opened. With the first appearance of a porter, he rushed up and seized hold of him. The porter recognized him as the gentleman who had played some antics in the telegraph-office the night before, wanting to telegraph up to the chief office that no ——-clerk was in attendance. ‘‘What time does the first train get in here from London?” de- manded Mr. Castlerosse. “ The first train don’t stop here,” said the porter. ‘“ Then the first that does stop os But he’d no doubt get a special,” he added to himself. “Well, it don’t get in much afore 8°45. It’s due at 8:40; but the steam ain’t never up viaeh a will the forepart of a journey. It a’n’t had time to get itself up.” : ‘8-45! That’s a quarter to nine,” groaned Mr. Castlerosse, “ and they are to be married at eight! I hope and trust he will be able to get a special. Are there any flys or coaches to be had here?” he in- quired aloud. “There’s a man as keeps one fly. Hedon’t get much todo. He’s a blacksmith by trade, and he ain’t often called out of his forge to drive.” ‘Where can I find him?” ‘‘He lives a rood or two t’other side of the Wheatsheaf Inn.” Away walked Mr. Castlerosse. The blacksmith’s shop was easily found, and the blacksmith was in it, shoeing a horse. 4 tall, intelli- gent-looking man. “T am told that you have a fly for hire,” began Mr. Castlerosse. “A one-horse fly, sir.” ‘‘T want you to be with it at the station this morning, to wait for a gentleman whom I expect 7 COLMA () 1DOOKS (CO)