The Argosy — page 189: what you’re looking at

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

172 Lady Valeria. Mrs. Margetts began to look enquiringly at the Vicar in her turn, as if expecting some explanation of his interest in the obnoxious young person ; and he began to wonder himself what he was driving at by his questions. Beyond the fact that the woman’s exit from the house he was interested in had been furtive and odd, he had absolutely no reason for bestowing more notice on her than on any other of Lady Valeria’s visitors or tradespeople. He had acted on an impulse, and might end in an utterly wrong position if he went too far. ‘“‘Can you tell me where she comes from ?”. “Nobody knows, sir. She just comes and goes. She was at our house to-day, about five o’clock. I saw her on the steps, that is to say.” “Thanks.” Eustace argued fiercely with his irrational suspicions for a brief space, and then gave in to them. ‘““T know no harm of the woman, I am bound to say, but I should like to hear more of her. Her address, and any further information you can obtain, is worth a couple of sovereigns to me at any time you like to bring it.” “You shall have it, sir,” said Cook, with decision. ‘A nasty, bold-faced thing !—Not that she comes in my way. Id let her know! It’s the others can’t abide her.—You trust to Martha Margetts, sir. You shall have the address as sure as ever is. Good- night, and many thanks, sir.” And Martha Margetts and her basket took their way down the next turning. CHAPTER ..X. Srwe FATE 20 £E we ‘ONLY a fine lady’s freak.” So had Mr. Stannard disposed of Mrs. Damien’s offer of assistance. It recurred to his mind, however, not many days later, when he paid another visit to the poor lonely little cripple in Lavender Row. Here was a case for a lady’s delicate ministration he thought. ‘The good neighbour, Mrs. Beltran, had suddenly, and without farewell or note of warning, disappeared ; pay- ing a quarter’s rent in advance, and taking the key of her room away with her; and Elsie looked ill and doubly forlorn. He found his opportunity the next Sunday evening: in the church porch, after service, hastily introduced ‘“ Mr. Paramount, my churchwarden,” threw in a word of explanation—‘‘ Mrs. Damien is desirous of knowing something of St. Fridolin’s ; I can think of no one better able to assist her than you,” and hurried off, his conscience relieved of an obligation. A precise, unhappy-looking, little old gen- tleman made her a formal little clerkly bow. A gentleman every inch, despite threadbare clothes and patched boots. ‘May I ask what sort of information you require ?” COMMICLOOOKS (EC) im