The Argosy — page 261: what you’re looking at

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

242 Mrs. Raven’s Temptation. She scarcely realised what it could mean, or what she was to find. Perhaps nothing. ‘There might be nothing to find. Of one thing she felt almost sure—that she had not put two papers into any of the drawers. ‘The whole thing, despite the marvellous circumstantiality of the directions, might be a take-in; or alucky guess, founded upon some accidentally overheard gossip that Mrs. Raven possessed such. drawers. With cold and hurrying fingers she fitted the key into the second drawer. Yes, sure enough there were two sheets of paper. She now remembered them directly. During her morning re-arrangement she had added the upper paper in this one instance that she might fold it in at the back of the drawer to guard from any dust a roll of white lace especially delicate. She drew the sheet of paper out and stood with it in her hand. ‘The wax candles were alight in the heavy candelabra on her mantelshelf. But she was in no hurry now. Rather she craved a moment’s respite. Did she hear steps in the corridor, or was it her fancy? Her maid would be coming presently to take her evening instructions. She had locked her door to secure privacy, but she wished to get it open again, if possible, before anyone came to invade that privacy. Crossing the room, and standing in front of the candle, she held up the paper close to its flame, about on a level with her own eyes. Yes—something was growing visible! She held it closer to the candle—closer—closer. ‘The writing was blue. Now it was quite clear: she could read it! “Tf your son sends away Eldred Sloam, Evelyn Agate shall never come to Ravenscourt.” : That was all. And in her high-pitched excitement she had thrust the paper so near the light, that as she read the words upon it, it caught fire in its very centre, and she was forced to drop it into the fender. She went down on her knees and tried to blow out the fire before all was reduced to ashes. She rushed to her washhandstand for the water-bottle. But it was too late. There was only a litle heap of charred papers. And even those, in her guilty terror, she gathered into her hand, and thrust them up the chimney, out of sight. What was it? Who was it? Who was it, inhabiting Ravenscourt, that was able to penetrate the secrets hidden within her own bosom ? What should she do? Where could she go? She could not bear to remain in the familiar room, whose very furniture seemed now to be suddenly endowed with conscious life, hostile to her. She crept away to the little inner chamber where she had slept since the Squire’s death, and lay down on her bed, with her face buried in the pillow. Who could know anything about Evelyn Agate? Was it possible, she mused in her terror, that she was being made the victim of some vile conspiracy, to which that young girl herself was a party? ‘The next moment she felt ashamed of the thought. She remembered that ECORNIE KOOKS .(6O)