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    Dialstone Lane, Part 1.
    Dialstone Lane, Part 1.
    Dialstone Lane, Part 1.
    Ebook88 pages55 minutes

    Dialstone Lane, Part 1.

    By W. W. (William Wymark) Jacobs

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    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    Dialstone Lane, Part 1.

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      Book preview

      Dialstone Lane, Part 1. - W. W. (William Wymark) Jacobs

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dialstone Lane, Part 1., by W.W. Jacobs

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Dialstone Lane, Part 1.

      Author: W.W. Jacobs

      Release Date: April 9, 2004 [EBook #11971]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DIALSTONE LANE, PART 1. ***

      Produced by David Widger

      DIALSTONE LANE

      By W. W. Jacobs

      PART I.

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      List of Illustrations

      Prudence

      Old-fashioned Matrons Clustered Round to Watch Him Cleaning the Doorstep.

      He Took Mr. Chalk in a Firm Grasp and Lowered Him.

      Sometimes the Captain Took Him to Palm-studded Islands In The Southern Seas.

      'How Could You Have Found Them Again?' Inquired Mr. Chalk, With the Air of One Propounding a Poser.

      A Small Boy Treading the Same Road.

      He Ransacked an Old Lumber-room.

      Selina Vickers.

      CHAPTER I

      Mr. Edward Tredgold sat in the private office of Tredgold and Son, land and estate agents, gazing through the prim wire blinds at the peaceful High Street of Binchester. Tredgold senior, who believed in work for the young, had left early. Tredgold junior, glad at an opportunity of sharing his father's views, had passed most of the work on to a clerk who had arrived in the world exactly three weeks after himself.

      Binchester gets duller and duller, said Mr. Tredgold to himself, wearily. Two skittish octogenarians, one gloomy baby, one gloomier nursemaid, and three dogs in the last five minutes. If it wasn't for the dogs—Halloa!

      He put down his pen and, rising, looked over the top of the blind at a girl who was glancing from side to side of the road as though in search of an address.

      A visitor, continued Mr. Tredgold, critically. Girls like that only visit Binchester, and then take the first train back, never to return.

      The girl turned at that moment and, encountering the forehead and eyes, gazed at them until they sank slowly behind the protection of the blind.

      She's coming here, said Mr. Tredgold, watching through the wire. Wants to see our time-table, I expect.

      He sat down at the table again, and taking up his pen took some papers from a pigeon-hole and eyed them with severe thoughtfulness.

      A lady to see you, sir, said a clerk, opening the door.

      Mr. Tredgold rose and placed a chair.

      I have called for the key of the cottage in Dialstone Lane, said the girl, still standing. My uncle, Captain Bowers, has not arrived yet, and I am told that you are the landlord.

      Mr. Tredgold bowed. The next train is due at six, he observed, with a glance at the time-table hanging on the wall; I expect he'll come by that. He was here on Monday seeing the last of the furniture in. Are you Miss Drewitt?

      Yes, said the girl. If you'll kindly give me the key, I can go in and wait for him.

      Mr. Tredgold took it from a drawer. If you will allow me, I will go down with you, he said, slowly; the lock is rather awkward for anybody who doesn't understand it.

      The girl murmured something about not troubling him.

      It's no trouble, said Mr. Tredgold, taking up his hat. It is our duty to do all we can for the comfort of our tenants. That lock—

      He held the door open and followed her into the street, pointing out various objects of interest as they went along.

      I'm afraid you'll find Binchester very quiet, he remarked.

      I like quiet, said his companion.

      Mr. Tredgold glanced at her shrewdly, and, pausing only at the jubilee horse-trough to point out beauties which might easily escape any but a trained observation, walked on in silence until they reached their destination.

      Except in the matter of window-blinds, Dialstone Lane had not changed for generations, and Mr. Tredgold noted with pleasure the interest of his companion as she gazed at the crumbling roofs, the red-brick doorsteps, and the tiny lattice windows of the cottages. At the last house, a cottage larger than the rest, one side of which bordered the old churchyard, Mr. Tredgold paused and, inserting his key in the lock, turned it with thoughtless ease.

      The lock seems all right; I need not have bothered you,

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