The Argosy — page 55: what you’re looking at

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

42 The Five Myr. Fyttons. ‘Good heavens, what’s that?” said I. “An asphyxiated grampus, I should say,” returned Willie. “No, it’s a man lying by the road-side. What in the world is he doing ?” We went on a little further, and nothing could I make of the mystery, when Willie burst into a roar of laughter. “Don’t you see?” he said. ‘It’s Slanter, tipsy as an owl, and trying to light his pipe at a glow-worm.” So it was. “Get up,” said Beamish. ‘‘ What the deuce are you doing there ?” ‘*'Trying to light my pipe, sir, as you see, but these country fusees are never any good.” ‘What brings you here, may I ask ?” said Beamish. “You wrote for me, sir ; and, like the nobleman who went through life with a motto concealed about his person, ‘J am here.’” “Well, as you are conducting yourself in this fashion, for my part I wish you were anywhere else.” ‘* Now, Mr. Beamish, don’t talk like that. Genius has so many penalties to pay. But I’ve brought news for you, sir. ‘There was a gentleman—at least a man—at your friend’s, when I arrived. He'd something as looked like a writ, Mr. Beamish. So look out for squalls, sir, and remember, if it is so, to reward the intelligent being who first signalled the enemy. Keep your starboard light wide open, and the watch always on deck.” When we got home, we found that a man had called at my father’s house, and by his extreme anxiety about Beamish, had first of all roused the servants’ suspicions, and then my father’s, who had been called out to see him, as he seemed so unwilling to leave. ‘“‘Do you so very particularly wish to see Mr. Beamish?” said my father. ‘Well, it’s not so urgent as all that,” replied the visitor, with a meaning smile. “Can I give him any message ?” ‘“No; that wouldn’t do, I fear.” My father then, skilfully evading several leading questions, simply confined himself to the statement that Beamish was with me, sketch- ing, and that his return was extremely uncertain. “Can I do anything more for you?” he added. “No,” said the stranger; “it doesn’t matter. I only just wanted to shake him by the hand.” It was very evident from poor Beamish’s manner that the news greatly depressed him. Visions of bailiffs, sheriff's officers, and men in possession, floated through his excited brain. ‘Shake me by the hand, indeed,” said he. ‘Much more likely to tap me on the shoulder.” : Next morning Beamish came down to breakfast with the appear- ance of one who has not slept. CONMICLOOKS. © im