The Argosy — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

86 The Story of Charles Strange. How long did he mean to stay there? For ever? He and Lee seemed to be at the back of the shop, talking together. I could not hear the voices sufficiently to judge whether one of them was that of Tom Heriot. He was coming now! Out he came, puffing at a fresh-lighted pipe, his glazed hat at the back of his head, his face lifted to the world. “Tell you we shall, master. Fine to-morrow? not a bit of it. Rain as sure asa gun. ‘This dampness in the air is a safe sign on’t. Let a sailor alone for knowing the weather.” ‘At sea, maybe,” retorted Caleb Lee. ‘‘ But I never yet knew a sailor who wasn’t wrong about the weather on shore. Good- night, sir.” ‘* Good-night to you, master,” responded the sailor. He lounged slowly away. It was not Tom Heriot. About his. build and his fair complexion, but shorter than Tom. A real, genuine jack tar, this, unmistakably. Was he the man Leah had seen? ‘This one wore no beard, but bushy, drooping whiskers. ‘* Looking for another book, sir?” In momentary confusion, I caught up the book nearest at hand. It proved to be ‘Fatherless Fanny,” and I said Id take it. While searching for the money, I remarked that the sailor, just gone away, had said we should have rain to-morrow. ‘““T don’t see that he is obliged to be right, though he was so positive over it,” returned the man. ‘I hate a rainy day: spoils our custom. Thankye, sir. Sixpence this time. That’s right.” ‘Do many sailors frequent this neighbourhood ?” ‘Not many; we've a sprinkling of ’em sometimes. They come over here from the Kent Road way.” Well, and what else could I ask? Nothing. And just then a voice came from the shop. ‘¢ Father,” called out Miss Betsy, “is it not time to shut up ?” “What do you ask? Getting a little deaf, sir, in my old age. Coming, Betsy.” He turned into the shop, and I walked away for the night: hoping, ah! how earnestly, that Leah had been mistaken. “Mr. Strange, my lord.” It was the following evening. Restlessly anxious about Tom Heriot, I betook myself to Gloucester Place as soon as dinner was. over, to ask Major Carlen whether he had learnt anything farther. The disreputable old man was in some way intimate with one or two members of the Government. ‘To my surprise, Sanders, Lord Level’s servant, opened the door to me, and showed me to the dining-room. Lord Level sat there alone over his after-dinner claret. You look as if you hardly believed your eyes, Charles,” he laughed as he shook hands. ‘Sit down. Glasses, Sanders.” ECORNIECLOOKS.E© m