The Argosy — page 335: what you’re looking at

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

316 Mr. Fermyn’s Racquet. ning away like that must seem a little funny to—to Mr. Jermyn, you know. Come down.” As she spoke, she shut the door, and taking the girl’s arm, pulled her gently along the passage. ‘Wait a minute. What are they talking about, Aunt Janet?” she expostulated. ‘“‘ Nothing of any importance,” the lady answered ; ‘‘ only that ever- lasting tennis.” III. Ir might have been an hour before Miss Raymond managed to get up to her room again ; more it certainly was not. ‘The conversation had turned away from tennis, but Mr. Jermyn had remained still in the same corner of the drawing-room. She passed through the same passage, and just paused for an instant in the same hall. There was no moonlight now ; heavy black clouds had come rolling up, and she thought—yes, as she listened she felt sure, that it was raining. There lay the wraps. ‘Thank heaven, no one had noticed—the strap round about them was still unfastened. Swiftly up the broad stairs again. Yes, it was just one hour ago—‘ Cuckoo ” nine times now from the clock. Into her own room next, and straight to the window. She pushed back the curtain and started. She felt rapidly all about the dark corner ;—she passed her hand swiftly down the black panes, against which the rain was pattering. Zhe racquet was gone. Miss Raymond sank faintly into a chair; but after a moment’s thought rose again, lighted the gas and rang for her maid. ‘Who has been into my room, within the last hour?” she asked abruptly when the woman entered. The maid stared in surprise; she had been sitting only in the adjoining room. “Nobody but myself, ma’am, she answered. “I came in to 1) ‘Did you remove anything ?” interrupted Aurora, quickly. “Not I, indeed, ma’am,” answered she, earnestly. ‘“‘ What have you lost, Miss Aurora?” “Only—oh nothing. That will do,” said Miss Raymond, rising abruptly to lower the gas. ‘Poor Aurora! Once left alone again, she sank into the chair and literally wrung her hands. ‘‘ How am I to go down and face him ?” she moaned. ‘And what—w/at about the tennis match to- morrow ?” ry, Wuat about the tennis match indeed! What was to be done? He had said he would play with no other racquet than his own; and now his own was gone. Ah, poor Aurora! As she realised the full CORNIC OOOKS eC) m