The Argosy — page 195: what you’re looking at

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

178 Lady Valeria. awed whisper, ‘“‘ his troubles must have gone to his head. He never did such a thing before—to spend his evenings in a public house—and such alow one! The Blue Dog—Oh, Mr. Stannard!” The poor little maid’s voice quavered, and her head sank. ‘What troubles ?” he asked, for he saw her heart was full. ‘“¢Sam’s lost his place. His last chance; and the firm won’t over- look it. Indeed—indeed it was not his fault ¢Azs time.” ‘How did it hafipen?” asked the Vicar, gravely. ‘Some drunken men frightened a woman on Monday night, and she gave Sam into custody. She said it was a mistake next day, but 4 “If Sam had been safe at home the mistake needn’t have hap- pened. ‘This is the third situation he has lost since I came here, is it not?” | “The fourth,” admitted the poor little sister, ‘‘and all through no real fault, sir!” “‘ Losing letters, unpunctuality, difficulties with the police, and play- ing the fool in office hours may be a man’s misfortune, but they are at least not unavoidable ones,” was the dry comment. It overthrew Elsie’s last vestige of self-control. ‘Oh, don’t, don’t, please, sir! It must be my fault. I’ve done my best since mother died, but I can’t make our home what it ought to be, and that’s what’s driving them bothwrong. We’ve all gone wrong since mother died!” The sobs would be stayed no longer, and she burst into a tempest of grief. He cast about for some words of consolation. Before the first could pass his lips, with startling abruptness the storm ceased. Elsie struggled bolt upright in her chair, her little wet ball of a pocket- handkerchief arrested midway to her eyes, swallowing down the last half of a sob, and staring at something above him, the picture of con- sternation. ‘What is it? Why, you can’t know anything about ¢ha/, Miss Paramount?” he exclaimed, for her startled gaze was fixed full upon the Seven of Spades. ‘How did it come there?” she gasped. “That is what I want to know. Did you ever see it before ?” “Never!” she replied, emphatically. ‘‘It was lost from the pack.” “Where was it lost? I know where it was found.” ‘“‘ At our house,” she began ; then the recollection of all the circum- stances flashed across her mind, and she came to a stop with an imploring look in her eyes, and her cheeks hotly blushing. She turned away her head with a little deprecating gesture that pleaded so eloquently with him to spare her further questioning that he felt he could not persist. ‘‘ You must not keep Mrs. Damien longer,” he said, “‘and half the parish are waiting to see me. Good-bye, and thank you for your kind thought of me.” ‘That question is answered,” he observed to de Cressy, presently ; ECORMMICLMOOOKS.E@ im