ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Penny Dreadfuls, 1858 · page 146 of 400

The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 146: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 146: Penny Dreadfuls, 1858

A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1858. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

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

132 THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. cold features indicated what was passing in his | liberality on his part. Without the slightest breast ; and it was on account of this impertur-, haggling —-without the slightest hesitation he bability, as well as the passionless business-like way in which Casey had treated the subject on the first occasion, that Tim Gaffney was so com- pletely at a loss to determine in his own mind whether his employer were really Rupert Pringle himself, or only some agent acting on that indivi- dual’s behalf. ‘ Well,” said Casey, the instant he and Gaffney met; ‘ what news ?” ‘‘ Good and bad—it’s done and it ain’t done— but it’s all safe :” such was the enigmatical an- swer which came from Mr. Gaffney’s lips. “Explain yourself,” said the usurer, almost sternly, as he fixed his eyes searchingly upon his agent. ‘The papers are in existence—the letter and the forged bill: they are no longer in the Squire’s hands—and you can get them with a very little trouble.” “What does this mean ?” demanded Casey. ‘“‘Are they in your possession? do you mean to fly from the bargain which we made together, and to hold out for a larger sum? If so, you'd be mistaken. I have no personal interest in the matter—I am merely acting for another.” “That may or may not be,” interrupted Gaffney ; ‘and I am not going to pry into your affairs. You've got hold of the wrong end of the stick—there’s no foul play on my part—I always deal right with them which employ me. But it was a strange business altogether down at the Firs, and ll tell you all about it.” Gaffney then proceeded to describe how he and Jack Peppercorn obtained an entrance into Squire Ponsford’s chamber—how everything progressed as could be wished until the point when he (Tim Gaffney) repaired to the library to procure the documents—how he was then seized upon by a person, and what took place between him and that individual. ‘t Describe his appearance to me,” said Casey, who had listened with a sort of impatient atten- tion to the preceding details. “He was a good-looking fellow—not very tall —deuced well made—light brown hair, all curling —and blue eyes, I think.” ‘‘ What name did he give?” : “T found out next morning,” replied Gaffney, “that his name was Stephen Ashborne, and that he was the Squire’s new bailiff.” ‘‘ And his age? his age?” asked Casey. “ A bout five-and-twenty as far as I can judge.” “ Ah! and you say he kept the documents ?” proceeded Casey : “and he told you that——— What was it that he said ?” “ Just these words,” rejoined Gaffney,—" that I was to make my own bargain with the person who employed me—that he wanted no reward— and all that he required was that the person should apply to him for the papers.” “ And you have nothing more to tell me?” “Nothing,” responded Gaffney. “Very good,” said the usurer. “It was not your fault that you did not bring the papers with you: I can’t blame you. I shall give you just the same reward as if you had done so.” Gaffney did not know with what a penurious individual he had to deal — or else he would have been immensely astonished at this display of | placed in Gaffney’s hand a number of bank-notes, to the amount originally agreed upon for the trans- action of the business. He took Gaffney’s word for the truth of the entire tale, because it was so well corroborated by other circumstances. “Well, sir, whoever you are,” observed Tim, “it’s & pleasure to do business with such a genel- man; and if so be you should ever again want my services, I’d better tell you where a note would reach me. I used to live for the most part in Kent —but so many things have of late turned up that I mean to establish’ myself in London for the future. Thomas Gaffney, Esquire—or plain Mr. Gaffney, if you think t’other’s too pretentious—at the Hog in Armour—a very respectable public it is too—Marylebone Lane.” “T shall not forget—I shall not forget,” said Casey : and then in a significant manner he added, “ But I think, Mr. Gaffney, for the present that your way lies in that direction, while mine lies in this. ” “To be sure, sir—to be sure!” and Tim, turn- ing upon his heels, made a polite bow, and began bending his way towards the Surrey side of Waterloo Bridge. ‘I would follow him never- theless,” thought Tim to himself; ‘only he is evidently a deep old file, and he'll take half-a- dozen cabs to baffle me. Besides, he pays well— and whoever he may be, he’ll some day want my services again—that’s as sure as fate !” Mr. Casey reached his home in Hatton Garden, his mind full of all that he had learnt from the lips of Tim Gaffney. There was much to move him—yes, even him, that man of stony heart and of utter selfishness !—that man whose experiences of the world had rendered him what he was! But he had acquired the habit of concealing what he felt; and thus, when he joined his wife and daugh- ter at the supper-table, they could not perceive by his countenance that anything peculiar had taken place. Presently some one was heard opening the street door in a hasty manner and rushing into the hall; and Mrs. Casey exclaimed, “Deary me! what can be the matter with Sylwester! what a flurry he seems to be in!” ‘You've done it, father!” ejaculated the young man as he burst into the room; ‘and it’s all dickey with him !” ‘* What on earth do you mean, Sylwester ?” de- manded his mother. “Why, hasn’t the governor told you by this time? I wonder why he kept it so deuced close———” ‘* Because,” interjected Mr. Casey, curtly, “I am not accustomed to let my left hand know what my right hand is doing. If you were to act more on this principle, Sylvester, I should be ‘better pleased. But in reference to the matter to which you are alluding, I suppose you mean that Sir Abel Kingston is arrested ?” “Sir Habel?” ejaculated the dame: “ what that perlite gentleman ‘Gentleman, indeed!” repeated Mr. Casey, with an air of disgust: ‘he is a perfect villain— he has robbed me infamously by means of forged documents ‘“Who would have thought it?” cried Mrs. Casey. ‘Ah, Selina dear! I told you when wa YN Wn) COMO Colin