Mr. Bingle by George Barr McCutcheon
page 163 of 326 (50%)
page 163 of 326 (50%)
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piteous, pleading look came into his eyes, and his face, once
arrogant, was now haggard with despair. "Bingle, I--I want you to help me. For God's sake, do what you can for me. Put into practice your beautiful Christmas Carol teachings. I--I want her. She must be made to understand that I love her, she must be made to feel that she is everything in the world to me. She looks like her mother. I thought it was fancy on my part, but now I know. Good God, little did I know where fate was going to lead me when I employed those fellows to find the child of Agnes Glenn. Little did I know that it would lead me to your door, Bingle." Mr. Bingle arose. He was very pale and shaken, but he managed to control himself with remarkable fortitude. "I have not told you that Agnes Glenn died of starvation--and carbolic acid," he said slowly. "Have your detectives told you that?" "Carbolic acid?" whispered Force, with staring eyes. "Starvation? Good God, man--not that!" "Yes--THAT! The Society found her when she was about gone. I was notified. We were looking for a child. This baby of hers was then about two years old. Mrs. Bingle and I went to the poor little flat where they had found her, after the neighbours had told the police of her plight. She was sick unto death. I said that we would care for her baby as if it were our own. Then I made arrangements to have her removed to a hospital at once. While we were out of the room, she took the carbolic acid. That's the way it happened, Force. That was the end of Agnes Glenn. She was a splendid character, Force. She did not |
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