The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

102 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. a mysterious look; ‘‘ keep the papers; they will be of use to me on my trial.” “* All right !”’ exclaimed the weaver; and the carriage drove off. “‘ Papers!’ muttered Grindem to himself; “ papers! what papers?” And the wealthy merchant had food for reflection in his drive to the madhouse. Mr. Crab, the keeper of the private asylum, was one of those respectable rascals who never commit them- selves, even with their accomplices in crime, by un- necessary words—a hint to him was sufficient. He had written a book upon prison discipline—been quoted in the House of Commons—was a great man at parochial meetings—and supposed to be as humane and bene- volent, as in reality he was avaricious and cruel. With such a man, Grindem was not long in coming to an understanding. The price for the patient was regu- lated upon the most liberal scale; and everything passed in the presence of the unsuspecting surgeon ; not a word was uttered on either side which did not breathe of humanity and pity; and yet the merchant . left the asylum perfectly satisfied that it would be long, very long, before he was again annoyed by the importunities of his troublesome clerk. Mr. Crab rubbed his hands, and indulged in an extra bottle of wine; the transaction of the morning had put him in spirits. After quietly sipping the ruby draught for some time, with that peculiar satisfaction which the consciousness of a good or profitable action gives, he COniiclooecl SS (SO