The Argosy — page 118: what you’re looking at

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

Mrs. Raven’s Temptation. £03 for search. They say the strongest man could not have carried it far, unaided.” ‘Then some vehicle must have been hired!” exclaimed Frank, rising in his eagerness. “Gently, sir,” said the detective. ‘That was our natural con- clusion, too: but we find that no licensed vehicle in this town has been hired for any such purpose to-day. Inquiries are now being made among carmen, porters, and others. In the meantime, it 1s our Mr. Cran’s inference that the portmanteau was removed before to-day.” ‘And therefore that the servant is in the conspiracy ?” suggested Philip. ‘*“Not necessarily, sir. She may say she saw the portmanteau this morning, and may believe it to be the truth. She had seen the portmanteau and she expected to see if. It is the hardest matter to get absolute accuracy about things which custom has made me- chanical. Can you be sure you put your umbrella in the stand this morning? If you found it in the corner of your bed-room instead, could you swear you had not put it there?” They all admitted the difficulty. ‘We imagine that some preparation was made for this apparently sudden departure,” resumed Mr. Jones. ‘‘You see we are obliged to lay down certain lines of theory to help us to work at all.” He seemed to await a question. Philip put it. ““Do you mean that you think this woman would have left Coitburn all the same had Mr. Frank Raven not visited her?” The detective bowed. ‘‘We do,” he said. ‘‘We have a certain reason—a slender one, perhaps—for thinking so.” He drew towards him a small iron case which lay on the table, and unlocked it with a key hanging to his watch-chain. From it he took a card whereon a few pieces of torn and crumpled paper were pasted together, with small irregular gaps between them. ‘They seemed like the remains of the back of an envelope, with part of a superscription. He held it towards Frank, who read from the jagged fragments. “Fr— Ra—n, Esq., “At Rev. J. —nell’s, “Roman R— “ Coltburn.” Frank felt his face flush again. For this writing had the same ghastly resemblance to his father’s hand which the enclosure in the packet bore. ‘* Have you ever seen that writing before?” asked the detective, with an easy manner. “Yes—I think so,” Frank stammered, conscious that Mr. Jones was keenly watching him. ‘“Do you remember where you saw it, sir?” EORnnicloooks (C©)