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

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

The White Witch. QI and he—he’ll comfort you,” concluded Godfrey : and went away before she could speak. Godfrey had an errand to perform. After taking council with him- self, he had come to the determination of seeking an interview with that powerful and dangerous man (as Godfrey regarded him) whose quarters were close by. Even detective officers were not always superior to bribes ; perhaps this one would not be. CHAPTER XXIII. WITH THE DETECTIVE OFFICER. PassINc through the lane on his way to the farm, Godfrey came upon Dick Wilding, who was sitting on a heap of stones, injudiciously employed in peeling the plaster off his face and pulling off his bandages. When he caught sight of Godfrey he jumped up and disappeared through a gapin the hedge witha yell. The farm-house door was open and there were sounds of voices in the big sitting-room to the right. The flickering glow of firelight shone through the windows ; and in the lodger’s parlour there was the steady light of a lamp. Nancy saw Godfrey coming, and met him at the door. “Is Mr. Cattermole in?” said he, softly. “Yes, sir. He is writing his letters.” ** Will you ask if he can see a messenger from his couszn ?” Nancy stared. ‘‘I—I don’t understand.” **No, no ; women are not expected to. Doas you’re told, Nancy.” She went into the parlour, and exchanged a few words with the occupant in a low voice. Then Godfrey heard a voice which made him start, prepared though he was. It was undoubtedly that of the man whom he had heard talking with Sir William. “Take away the lamp, Nancy,” he was saying. “I have finished wmiting, and the light hurts my eyes.” “Tf that be to keep up the delusion that you are a simple-minded artist, my friend, you are taking unnecessary pains,” thought Godfrey. many came out and showed him in. ‘The room was almost dark. “TI hope you don’t mind this semi-obscurity, sir,” said the man, rising and offering Godfrey a chair. “I suffer from weak eyes—a bad thing for an artist—I have the honour of speaking, I believe, to Mr. Godfrey Mayne.” “You do not let the weak sight check your ability in your other profession, however,” observed Godfrey civilly. The man said nothing ; he did not start, but Godfrey thought he was surprised. ‘I have reason to know that you are a detective, brought down here by Sir William Hunt. I know the business you are here upon: and I know that you are a man of experience and of distinguished ability.” Mr. Cattermole laughed lightly. ‘Really, sir, you do me too Gomichboo (C(O)