The Argosy — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

Court Netherleigh. 95 “Nobody does know, that I can find out,” said the Serjeant, re- turning to the charge, and facing Lord Acorn, with whom he had long been on intimate terms: ‘‘and Charley makes a mystery of it. I suspect it was some one of those wild blades he has been hand-in- clove with lately—and that he won’t betray him.” “Ah, yes, no doubt,” carelessly assented Lord Acorn, his face wearing a deeper tinge than ordinary. ‘I wonder where Howard 1s? Charley must be saved.” “Tt will be of no use your seeing Howard, Lord Acorn—except for any odds and ends of information he might afford you. The affair is out of his hands now.” “But it can’t be out of Mr. Grubb’s !” Sindecd itis. It is in Sir Turtle Kite’s.” “Could one do any good with him?” Serjeant Mowham laughed. “I can’t say, one way or the other. You might try, perhaps. Don’t say, though, that I recommended it.” The peer smoothed his brow, smooth enough before to all ap- pearance. How often do these smiling brows hide a heavy load of perplexity within ! “As for me, I must be off,” added the Serjeant. ‘I’ve a consul- tation on for five o’clock, at my-chambers, and I believe five has struck.” He bustled away, leaving Lord Acorn in the crowd. Thought is quick. ‘That nobleman was saying to himself, “‘ What if I do see Sir Turtle P—who knows but I might come over him by persuasion ? Wonder where he 1s to be found ?” He glanced up and down Leadenhall Street, at its houses on this side and on that, as if, haply, he might discern the name. During this survey he found himself subjected to an increased amount of jostling, and became aware that the clerks were pouring out of the offices of Grubb and Howard. “ Oh—ah,” began Lord Acorn, addressing a young man who was nearly the last, all his nonchalance of manner in full force again, ‘Can you tell me where Sir Turtle Kite is to be found?” “Sir Turtle Kite, sir?” replied the young clerk civilly. ‘TI think —I’m not quite sure—but I think his place is somewhere down by the river. Here—Aitcheson ”—stopping an older clerk—“ where is Sir Turtle Kite’s place ? ‘This gentleman is asking.” “Tooley Street—forget the number—can’t mistake it,” replied the other, who seemed in a vast hurry to get away, and threw back the words as he went. “Tooley Street,” repeated Lord Acorn aloud, by way of impress- ing the name on his mind. ‘Some commercial stronghold, I sup- pose. What business is he?” ‘“*He’s a tallow merchant, sir.” ‘“Ah—thank you—a tallow merchant,” repeated his lordship, with a deprecatory shrug of the shoulders at the ‘objectionable word, GOMIGDOOkS (SO)