The Argosy — page 290: what you’re looking at

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

The Amethyst Seal. 271 John left the post-office at Stilwater with the mail-bags for London and the South between half-past nine and a quarter to ten every night, so as to be in time to catch the up-mail at Barrowcliff station at 10.30. Of this fact Harold Dare was perfectly aware, he and Captain Wenlock having met the old man more than once when out on summer evenings for a late walk along the country roads, and it was of this knowledge that Dare had now determined to avail him- self. He had timed his calculations with a view of encountering the mail-cart about half way between the village and the station, at a spot where, for a mile or more, the road ran between two high banks covered with thick hedgerows. He was aware that John, out of pure good nature, or it may be with an eye to an extra glass of grog, although it was contrary to his instructions, sometimes gave a lift on the cart to some belated friend or acquaintance whom he might chance to overtake on the road, and he could only hope most devotedly that to-night of all nights the old driver might be alone. As soon as Dare reached that part of the road where it began to dip between the high banks he slackened his pace somewhat, and after every few yards that he advanced he stood still for a few seconds to listen. He had advanced thus cautiously for about half a mile when his quick ears caught the faint sound of wheels in the distance. His heart gave a great bound, and he was obliged to steady himself for a few moments against the trunk of a tree. The sound could now be plainly heard coming towards him on the frost-hardened road. At once he turned and began to retrace his steps in the direction of Barrowcliff. The vehicle, whatever it might be, came nearer and nearer, till in a little while it was but a few yards behind him. Now or never was his chance. | Halting suddenly and flinging a quick backward glance into the darkness he could just make out that it was indeed the mail cart, and that there was only one figure on the box. ‘Ith that you, John Pegwam ?” he called out, with a capital imi- tation of his cousin’s voice and lisp. “‘ Aye, it’s me, sure enough. And who may you be?” came the answer, while the old mare, hearing voices, slackened her pace of her own accord. “Don’t you know me P_ Captain Wenlock.” ‘“Blest if 1 knew you, sir, it’s so dark hereabouts. Woa, Tulip, lass.” ‘The mare came to a dead halt. ‘Can I do anything for you, Captain P ” “You can give me a lift as far as the station, if you like. The night was so fine I started to walk, but I’m afraid I shall miss my train.” All this was said with a lisp precisely as Bruce Wenlock would have spoken it. “All right, Captain. I’m in good time, to-night. Just put your foot on that step and catch hold of this strap and there you are.” Five seconds later Harold Dare was sitting by the side of John CONnMIC MOO (CO)