The Argosy — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

62 Lady Ennerdale’s Fewels. head constable. He’s not to lose a minute. I shall expect him back in an hour and a half from now.” | Turning to the Earl, Mr. Dawson added: “If you'll allow me, my dear Ennerdale, [ll take this inquiry entirely into my own hands.” “J wish you would,” said the Earl. “It’s altogether out of my line, as you know.” ‘Then he handed to his host the chisel which he had picked up. | “The ladder they no doubt got from the tool-house,” said Mr. Dawson. ‘“ There would be no difficulty about that. But the fact of their making your wife’s dressing-room their point of attack, and walking off with her jewel-case and nothing else, would seem to indicate that the thieves knew quite well what they were about. In fact, there can be no doubt that they knew Lady Ennerdale had brought her diamonds with her, and knew equally well which was the likeliest place to find them. Clever rogues !” Lady Ennerdale did not go down to dinner that evening, but the Earl ate his mutton and played his rubber afterwards as quietly as if nothing had happened. He had been more or less of a philosopher all his life. If the jewels were gone, he argued, it would only make the loss worse by worrying about it. A happy faculty, perhaps, that many of us might envy; but one that, carried to extreme, might lead to indolent inaction. ‘You see, dear, Ennerdale is such a philosopher,” said the Countess to Mrs. Nugent Dawson, who had gone up stairs to sit with her friend and administer such comfort as might be possible under the circum- stances. ‘‘ I sometimes wonder whether he has any nerves at all. I believe if an earthquake were to take place his first care would be to have his beloved blue-books dug out of the ruins. I wish I could be a philosopher,” added the poor Countess with a sigh. Previously to this the Ennerdales had been accommodated with another suite of rooms, their old ones being given over for a time to the police. Baylis, accompanied by Mr. Dawson, who transformed himself into a detective for the time being and quite enjoyed the assumption, went thoroughly into the affair. They tramped up stairs and down, they scoured the gardens and shrubbery, they wagged their heads solemnly, they whispered confidentially to each other, although nobody was by, and now and then they tempered the keenness of the December weather with seasonable potations of whiskey toddy. All night long, after he had gone to bed thoroughly fagged out, Mr. Nugent Dawson, like the Squire of Locksley Hall, hunted in his dreams, only it was burglars and not foxes that he chased through the realms of sleep. When Lord Ennerdale retired for the night he found his wife asleep, her pillow wet with tears. His face softened as he looked at her. Stooping, he touched her cheek softly with his lips. ‘The action awoke her. She grasped one of his hands in both hers. ‘‘ Oh! EORNIECLOOOKS .E@