The Argosy — page 265: what you’re looking at

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

248 The Missing Rubies. CHAPTER XXII. IN WIMPOLE STREET AGAIN. Ir was a brilliant season ; everybody worth mentioning was in town ; the weather was all that could be desired. And yet Harriet Milton said to herself that her house seemed unaccountably dull and still. She missed Beatrice. Although the girl had only been away so short a time, the Miltons were beginning to long foolishly for her return. Perhaps they had caught a little of her superstitious dread of the visit to Fairbridge. Perhaps they were perpetually haunted by their last glimpse of her sad face. Anyhow, there was an unuttered anxiety in the minds of husband and wife, and they had almost blamed themselves for letting her leave them. The sudden appearance of Mr. Redburn at the office had alarmed Richard Milton. ‘There had been something in the old man’s manner, when he had asked for a private interview with Godwin, which had convinced Milton that troubles were apppoaching. After- wards, he had seen old Redburn leave the place with an unpleasant smile puckering up his countenance. And he had said to himself that matters had gone wrong—terribly wrong. Godwin Earle had told him nothing about that interview then. He had rushed past Richard with a haggard face, and left the office to return no more that day. “YT wish I knew what had passed between Redburn and Earle,” Mr. Milton had said uneasily to his wife. ‘I don’t like the look of things at all. The child’s words are coming true; she said it would have been better if that old man had stayed in India!” Don’t be fanciful, Richard,” Harriet had replied, rather tartly. ‘‘T am so ridiculously unsettled in mind that a trifle frightens me. This is all owing to a warm spring. Our nerves are out of order.” “Mr. Redburn’s call had nothing to do with our nerves,” Mr. Milton responded gloomily. ‘I wonder whether there will be a letter from Beatrice to-morrow? She said something in her last about coming back.” The morrow came, but no letter arrived ; and Mr. Milton went off to the City with a perturbed spirit. As to Harriet, she made a poor breakfast, and then began to wander about the house like a restless ghost. Her perambulations led her from the sitting-room into the flowery little yard ; then into the sitting-room again; and finally out into the hall. She spoke snappishly to William ; picked a living leaf from her pet geranium instead of a dead one; tripped over one of the mats, and nearly measured her length on the ground. A strong arm caught her as she stumbled. Looking up, exceed- ingly ashamed of herself and her unwonted mood, she encountered the steadfast gaze of Mr. Vordenberg. ECOMICOOOKS.GO