The Argosy — page 275: what you’re looking at

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

254 In the Dead of Night. Cope: “ You were telling me, the other day, that one of your ices at the bank died a week or two ago?” “Yes: young Musgrave. Clever young man. Great loss to the firm.” , ‘Well, if you have not filled up the place, it might, perhaps, suit our young friend here,” indicating Tom, ‘‘if you like to take him on my recommendation. I don’t know whether Jenny introduced him pro- perly, but he’s the son of Dr. Bristow, who attended my wife in her last illness. I respected his father and I like the lad, and would gladly do something for him.” The banker was scandalized. It might almost be said that he was horrified. To think that he had been invited to meet, and, worse than that, had talked on terms of perfect equality with a young man who was in want of an ordinary clerkship—who would, doubtless be glad of a stool in the back office of his bank! It was monstrous—it was disgusting! But it was just the sort of inconsiderate conduct that might be expected from a man like Culpepper. His manner towards Tom froze in a moment. ‘“What say you? Can you doanything for him?” urged the squire. ‘‘Why—ah—really, you know—should be most happy to oblige you, or to serve Mr.—, Mr.——” ‘‘ Bristow,” shi the squire. ‘“‘ Bristow—thank you—but you see—ah—young Musgrave’s berth was filled up a.week ago, and I’m sorry that I’ve nothing else just now at all likely to suit the requirements of your—ah—protégé.—I'll take another spoonful of clear soup, if you please.” Tom’s face was a study all this time. ‘“I’min for it now,” he said to himself. ‘‘ The banker will never speak to me again.” “‘ Ah, well,” said the squire, “ I’ll see McKenna, the electioneering agent, to-morrow. I daresay he'll know of something that will suit our young friend.” ‘Pardon me, Mr. Culpepper,” said Tom quietly, “but I’m afraid there’s a slight mistake somewhere. I am not aware that I ever ex- pressed myself as being in want of a situation, either in Mr. Cope’s bank, or elsewhere. My business, such as it is, lies in London. I have only come down to Duxley to see a few old friends.” ‘“Why, bless my heart,” said the squire, “I thought you told me yesterday that you were in want of something to do!” +A misunderstanding, I assure you, sir. Many thanks to vos all the same.’ “And what the deuce ¢s your business, if I may make bold to ask?” said the squire, testily. Tom hesitated for a moment. “I believe, sir, I might describe myself as an individual who lives by his wits—such as they are,” he said at last. Gomicbooks.com