The Flower of the Flock, Volume 1 (of 3)Egan, Pierce
General
The Flower of the Flock, Volume 1 (of 3)
Egan, Pierce
Fiction
“Things is wuss than I took them to be,” he murmured. Then he addressed
Mr. Grahame. “Who do you think?” he asked, “it is as has been making
himself so very hactive in getting old Wilton out o’ Hudson’s Hotel *
--you won’t guess. Why it’s that little saffron-jawed imidge, who
dropped in so unexpected when you jest finished that bit o’ writing for
the hobstinate Wilton.”
* The Queen’s Bench.
“My God!” gasped Grahame, “has _he_ assisted Wilton?”
“Paid the money, I believe, sir; and is going to stand his friend in the
law case,” observed Chewkle, emphatically.
Grahame clasped his hands and paced the room in agitation, he passed
his feverish fingers convulsively over his temples. “What is to be
done--what is to be done?” he cried, “I have commenced to act upon that
accursed document. I thought he never, never would come out of prison,
but would die there; and urged by the frightfully pressing nature of my
necessity--my situation in connection with the estates to which I lay
claim--I lodged the deed with my lawyer, and ordered him to proceed
upon it. He has commenced--I know he has commenced; the deed is
registered--all will be discovered, and--oh, my God! what will ensue?”
“Transportation for life to a dead certainty,” replied Chewkle, in slow,
emphatic tones, “You’ll be called upon to prove the signatur--you can’t
do that; then, o’ course it’s a forgery. Well, who did it? You got to
show how you come by it--you can’t do that; and then you’ll be found
guilty, and sentenced for life. That’s clear, I think.”
Mr. Chewkle felt himself, at the conclusion of his speech, seized by the
throat.
“Villain,” cried Mr. Grahame, froth foaming and bubbling from his mouth.
“This was your hellish counsel; but for your infernal suggestion and
complicity, I should never have thought of it, but you shall share my
fate--my fate--transportation. Oh! horror, horror--my house--my family!
I--I--death--death--”
Mr. Chewkle felt the cold clammy fingers of his antagonist loosen, and
as the last words died on his lips, he saw him stagger back, and before
he could catch him, he fell to the ground in a fit.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account