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Updated: July 25, 2025
Here was a sharp-witted, middle-aged man not an ancient mariner, or a meandering imbecile who could remember the talk of a grandmother who had known Matthew Haygarth's wife. And this visit to Mr. Goodge was my own idea, not prompted by the far-seeing Sheldon. I felt myself advancing in the insidious arts of a private inquirer.
Money was to be offered to a man called Goodge for certain letters. He knew his brother's affairs well enough to know that these letters for which money was to be offered must needs be letters of importance in some search for an heir-at-law. So far all was clear and simple; but beyond this point he found himself at fault.
As we proceeded, our patient's face grew more and more ashen, drawn, and anxious; his breathing was shallow and uneven, and his teeth chattered slightly. The cab swung round into Goodge Street, and then suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye there came a change.
In any sphere of human effort, so he dimly and childishly realized, he could wipe out Billy Goodge. He had a soul-reaching contempt for Billy Goodge, a passionate envy of him. Why did Billy hold his position instead of crumbling into dust before him? Assuredly he was a better man than Billy.
"The price must of course depend on the quality of the article you have to sell," I said; "I must know that before I can propose terms." "Suppose my information took the form of letters?" "Letters from whom to whom?" "From Mrs. Rebecca Haygarth to my great-uncle, Samson Goodge." "How many of such letters have you to sell?" I put it very plainly; but the Rev.
They told him that there was a certain Goodge, in the town of Ullerton, who possessed letters so valuable to George Sheldon, as to be bought by his agent Valentine Hawkehurst. Letters for which Sheldon was willing to give money must needs be of considerable importance, since money was a very scarce commodity with that hunter of unconscious heirs-at-law.
I did not much relish being addressed as "young man," even by such a shining light as the Rev. Jonah Goodge. But as I wanted the Rev. Jonah's aid, I submitted with a tolerable grace to his patriarchal familiarity, and bade him good morning, after promising to call again on the following day. I returned to my inn and wrote to Sheldon in time for the afternoon mail, recounting my interview with Mr.
"Any information respecting Matthew Haygarth or his wife." Mr. Goodge became profoundly meditative after this. "I am not given to act unadvisedly," he began and I felt that I was in for a little professional discourse: "the creatures of impulse are the children of Satan, the babes of Lucifer, the infants of Beelzebub.
This was all my Mercury could ascertain respecting it; but this was something. I at once divined that this packet must needs contain letters. I asked myself whether those letters or papers had been sold to Hawkehurst, or only lent to him, and I immediately concluded that they could only have been lent. It was all very well for Goodge, the Methodist parson, to traffic in the epistles of Mrs.
I telegraphed to Sheldon for instructions as to whether I was to give Goodge the money he asked, and then went back to my inn, where I devoted myself for the next ten minutes to the study of a railway time-table, with a view to finding the best route to Spotswold.
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