The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 169: what you’re looking at

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

160 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. CHAPTER XII. Try not deceit, it is a game at which The worthless are most skilled, for honesty, Dreaming no ill, suspects no ill in others. CREON. At an early hour the following morning, when Mr. Small arrived, with his usual punctuality, at the counting- house, he found a tall, ill-looking fellow waiting in the outward office. There was a saucy independence in the man’s bearing which annoyed him ; for, like most sycophants, Small exacted a servile respect from all whom he could tyrannise over. Poverty, in his eyes, put the unhappy being identified with it out of the pale of humanity. It had no right to walk—he expected it to creep. ‘‘ Now, my man,” he demanded, with a supercilious air, “ what are you doing here ?” “‘Can’t you see I am waiting?” replied Flanagan, with an impudent leer—for it was no other than the landlord of the cellar in which poor Tim’s Dick was still a prisoner, to whom Small had addressed the question. ecomnuicloooks (SO