The Argosy — page 207: what you’re looking at

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

Igo The Ebony Box. “Plain!” struck in the Squire. ‘‘ How is it plain, Johnny? What grounds do you go upon P” ‘“T judge by his looks and his tones, sir, when denying it. They are to be trusted.” They did not know whether to laugh or scoff at me. It was Johnny’s way, said the Squire; always fancying he could read the riddles in a man’s face and voice. But they’d have thrown up their two best market-going hats with glee to be able to think it true. IT, SAMSON REGINALD DENE was relieved of the charge, as it was declared “not proven;” all the same, Samson Reginald Dene was ruined. Worcester said so. During the following week, which was Passion week, its citizens talked more of him than of their prayers. Granted that Maria Parslet’s testimony had been honestly genuine, a theory cropped up to counteract it. Lawyer Standup had been bold enough to start it at the Saturday’s examination: a hundred tongues were repeating it now. Sam Dene, as may be remembered was present at the finding of the box on Tuesday; he had come up the passage and touched the golden guineas in it with the tips of his fingers: those fingers might have deftly extracted one of the coins. No wonder he could show it to Maria when he went home to tea! Captain Cockermuth admitted that in counting the guineas subsequently he had thought he counted sixty; but, as he knew there were (or ought to be) that number in the box, probably the assumption misled him, causing him to reckon them as sixty when ~ in fact there were only fifty-nine. Which was a bit of logic. Still, popular opinion was divided. If part of the town judged Sam to be guilty, part believed him to be innocent. A good deal might be said on both sides. ‘To a young man who does not know how to pay his debts from lack of means, and debts that he is afraid of, too, sixty golden guineas may be a great temptation ; and people did not shut their eyes to that. It transpired also that Mr. Jacobson, his own uncle, his best friend, had altogether cast Sam off and told him he might now go to the dogs his own way. Sam resented it all bitterly, and defied the world. Far from civing in or showing any sense of shame, he walked about with an air, his head up, and that brazen guinea dangling in front of him. He actually had the face to appear at college on Good Friday (the congregation looking askance at him) and sat out the cold service of the day: no singing, no organ, and the little chorister-boys in black surplices instead of white ones. But the crowning act of boldness was to come. Before Easter week had lapsed into the past, Sam Dene had taken two rooms in a conspicuous part of the town and set-up in practice. A big brass plate on the outer door displayed his name: ‘ Mr. Dene, Attorney-at-law.” CORMMICE OOO L<Sa(E()