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Updated: April 30, 2025
Sydney was away at Harrisburg, and Roy decided that instead of going to Marley the following day, he would find out where this New Jersey town was and hunt up Rex at once. Mrs. Pell wanted to go with him, but Roy reminded her that he might have considerable difficulty in tracing Rex, so it was decided that she wait until she heard from him.
Quite untroubled by the ethical aspect of the situation, she gave herself up to it wholly, only troubled lest she had gotten the better part of the exchange she had made with the real Elsie Marley; lest she be cheating the other out of companionship with this wonderful Cousin Julia. No difficulty offered itself. Keen as she was, Miss Pritchard was without shadow of suspicion.
Marley in his pigtail, usual waistcoat, tights, and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, like his pigtail, and his coat-skirts, and the hair upon his head. The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. His body was transparent; so that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat, could see the two buttons on his coat behind.
Superintendent Marley, who was still present when the daring rider returned, at once raised his bonus from fifty to one hundred dollars. Nor was this all of Haslam's great achievement. The west-bound mail would soon arrive, and there was nobody to take his regular run.
Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one thought on Marley, since his last mention of his seven-years' dead partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any intermediate process of change: not a knocker, but Marley's face. Marley's face.
What she wasn't sure about was the fortnight. A fortnight can do a good deal with an intention. Miss Marley knew the world very well. People had often wanted to use her for a screen before, and generally she had refused, believing that the chief safeguard of innocence is the absence of screens.
You didn't steal because you wanted money yourself." But Christopher was doggedly truthful. "Marley used to give me some for myself, Cæsar, and I liked it and I didn't think it was stealing. It was just keeping what one found." "But you knew to whom it belonged." "Not certain sure, Marley said." "What did your mother say?" "Just that it was stealing.
There would soon be some fine shooting, and one dead man perhaps, or two, for Marley meant business; and as for the other, he looked like the devil himself as he stood there. And he was a fine shot, there was no mistake about that. Denbigh stared hard at him with round fixed eyes.
It was not in impenetrable shadow, as the other objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look: with ghostly spectacles turned up on its ghostly forehead.
Circumstances seemed to favor his plan. If he only had three dollars more now! "I guess I'll go" he said. "Are you going, Roy?" "No, I'm going to that ratification meeting with Syd to-morrow night, you know. If you don't go down to Marley, Rex, you'd better come with us. There are to be some fine speeches." "Perhaps I will," responded Rex.
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