The Argosy — page 367: what you’re looking at

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

346 Aunt Paradox. “No, sir,” replied the man. ‘‘My master seemed to be rather silent that evening—I did not notice it at the time, but remem- bered it later. He dined at six o’clock as usual, I waiting on him. By-and-by, when it was getting dusk, he rang for lights ; it was a bit early for them, I thought. I hghted the lustres on the mantelpiece, and took in the two candles for the table: he never would burn any lights but wax, you know, sirs. While I was drawing down the blinds, he drew the two candles on the table close to him, as if intending to read, I thought, though I saw no book about. I was leaving the room when he called me back and said he would put on his dressing-gown, he should be more comfortable in it. I fetched the dressing-gown, his new one, a beautiful crimson silk. ‘ Not that,’ says he, the moment he saw it, ‘the old one.’ So I brought the old one, and helped him to put it on, in place of his evening coat. ‘This is getting very shabby, sir,’ says I, as I was pulling the old purple cashmere thing round him and buttoning the band. ‘So it is, Gatty,’ master answers, ‘ but one is more at ease in old things than in new ones, however, we must soon hand it over to Robertson now ;’ for this old purple dressing-gown had been promised by master to Robertson, our late gardener, whenever it should be done with; Robertson having the rheumatics that bad he is unable to stir out for weeks together. So, that being all master wanted, I went back to my pantry Ee “But about the letter, Gatty?” interrupted the lawyer in his sharp way. ‘“‘T was coming to the letter, sir,” said the butler, who was just as slowly deliberate as the other was quick. ‘“ At eight o’clock I took in my master’s cup of tea. While drinking it, he told me to put his writing desk on the table; I did so, and he opened it, and began spreading out his note paper and looking at his pens: by which I saw he was going to write. ‘These candles don’t give the light they used to, Gatty,’ says he. ‘Sir,’ says I, taking leave to say it, ‘I think it’s our eyes that’s in fault, not the candles; I know mine don’t see as they did a few years agone. ‘Ay, ay,’ says he, with a sort of sigh, ‘it’s the same with us all, Gatty.’? With that I left him. When ten o’clock struck and he had not rung, I thought I would go in to see if he was not ready for his small glass of wine and water: it was very rare that _ he had it in later than ten. And—and—you know the rest, sirs,” broke off Gatty with a sort of sob. ‘‘ My poor master was lying dead with his head upon the desk, which was shut up then, and his arms clasped round it as if holding on, and the letter, stamped, and directed to Mr. Stephon, was on the table.” ‘Tt is the disappearance of this will that is troubling us, Gatty,” observed the lawyer, after a pause. ‘I cannot imagine what has become of it.” ‘“T’m sure I can’t, sir,” returned the butler. ‘“ But Mr. Richard says there’s another will, if that last one’s lost.” CONMICLOOOKS aE)