The Argosy — page 198: what you’re looking at

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

LL Wintfred Power. 181 the pleasure was a dangerous one, for his whole future now was doubtful and dark... ‘‘ When is the inquest to be resumed?” asked Mr. Burton, who had called in on the afternoon of the funeral. ‘‘ Next week. I hope I shall have news of Lady Hatherley by then, if only to arrest the course of Lathom’s imagination,” said Mark. Mr. Burton cleared his throat discreetly. He regarded the young man’s belief in Gertrude as a kind of infatuation ; and for his part was rather disposed to regard Lathom as a very sensible fellow. ‘You have had no news?” “None. Ah!” Mark put out his hand eagerly, for the butler had entered the room, bringing two telegrams. The first he opened was from Richard. ‘‘T have been away. My sister’s message just opened. Psalter sold by me by order of Sir John, under promise of secrecy.” That told Mark nothing of importance that he had not as good as known, but he passed it with a melancholy glance to Mr. Burton. The other telegram was from Winifred : ‘‘ No news here of Gertrude. Family greatly alarmed. Richard starts for London to-night.” CHAPTER) XXVII. GERTRUDE FINDS NEW FRIENDS. LapyY HaTHERLEY had indeed taken a ticket for Brighton; but as soon as the train had carried her a few stations beyond Rosebank, she got out and got another ticket for London. The pretence of going to Brighton was a blind; and the dropping by the pool of the bonnet she usually wore, was another. Both devices were sufficiently transparent: but to Gertrude in her actual incapacity for judging coolly, they seemed of preternatural acuteness. And as a fair share of rage was mixed with her fright, she even derived some small satis- faction from the thought that Mark might (as he did) drag the pool for her. : She arrived in London just about the time that Mark had rung for the butler to enquire if she had returned ; and calling a cab had her- self driven to the dingy suburb where we have already once seen her. The maid recognised her; and after a moment’s hesitation, ushered her into the little sitting-room where her mysterious friend, passing for Colonel Quince, but in reality Ralph Mercer, his body on one chair and his legs on another, was smoking by the light of a solitary candle. “Gertrude!” he said, and rose in great astonishment. “TI am in a difficulty,” said Gertrude, coldly: “ and as it is princi- pally your disreputable folly which has landed me in it, you must be good enough to help me out.” «My dear child ——” ECORNICOOOKS EO