The Argosy — page 105: what you’re looking at

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

Q2 Lhe Mysteries of Heron Dyke. had just left. It was the same room in which Captain Lennox’s interview took place on the night of his return from London. Aaron Stone was coming out as Conroy went in. The old man greeted him with a queer, sour look, and some uncomplimentary remark, muttered to himself. Then he went out and banged the heavy door noisily behind him. ‘¢S—s—s—s ! That confounded door again!” exclaimed a rasping, high-pitched voice from behind the screen at the farther end of the room. ‘‘ Will that old rapscallion never remember that I have nerves ? Ah—ha! if I could but cuff him as I used to do!” added the Squire, breaking off with a fit of coughing. Ella held up a warning finger and waited without moving till all was quiet again. She glided across the polished, uncarpeted floor and passed in front of the screen. Conroy waited in the background. ““T have brought Mr. Conroy to see you, Uncle Gilbert—the gen- tleman who wants to take some sketches of the Hall,” said Ella in tones a little louder than ordinary. ‘‘ And who gave you leave, young lady, to introduce any strangers here? Why ——” ‘You yourself gave me leave, uncle, not many minutes ago,” she quietly interposed. ‘‘ You said that you would see Mr. Conroy.” * Dg. dt. chald.? ” ‘Certainly you did.” ‘Then my memory must be failing me faster than I thought it was.” Here came a deep sigh followed by a moment or two of silence. ‘You are right, Ella) I remember it now. Let us see what this bold intruder is like.” - Conroy stepped forward in front of the screen and saw before him the Master of Heron Dyke. He looked to-day precisely as he had looked that evening, long ago, counting by weeks, when Captain Lennox called at the Hall. It might be that his face was a little thinner and more worn, but that was the only difference. “So! You are the young jackanapes who wants to sketch my house—eh ?” said Mr. Denison, as he peered into Conroy’s face with eager, suspicious eyes. ‘‘ How do I know that you are not a spy— -avile spy?” He ground out the last word from between his teeth and craned his long neck forward so as to bring it closer to Conroy’s face. “Do I look like a spy, sir?” asked Conroy calmly, as he went a pace nearer to the old man’s chair. ‘What have looks to do with it? There’s many a false heart behind a fair-seeming face. Aye, many—many.” He spoke the last words as if to himself, and when he had ended he sat staring out of the window like one who had become suddenly oblivious of every- thing around him. His lips moved, but no sound came from them. Mr. Denison’s reverie was broken by the entrance of Aaron with letters and newspapers. ‘Then the squire turned to Conroy. ‘So, CONMMICLOOOKS, EC) m