There was a foreign letter in it from Edward, addressed to him, and another addressed to “Mr. Blancuv,” that he tore open and read with disgusted laughter. It was signed “N. Sedgett.” Algernon read it twice over, for the enjoyment of his critical detection of the vile grammar, with many “Oh! by Joves!” and a concluding, “This is a curiosity!”
It was a countryman's letter, ill-spelt, involved, and of a character to give Algernon a fine scholarly sense of superiority altogether novel. Everybody abused Algernon for his abuse of common Queen's English in his epistles: but here was a letter in comparison with which his own were doctorial, and accordingly he fell upon it with an acrimonious rapture of pedantry known to dull wits that have by extraordinary hazard pounced on a duller.
“You're 'willing to forgeit and forgeive,' are you, you dog!” he exclaimed, half dancing. “You'd forge anything, you rascal, if you could disguise your hand—that, I don't doubt. You 'expeck the thousand pound to be paid down the day of my marriage,' do you, you impudent ruffian! 'acording to agremint.' What a mercenary vagabond this is!”
Algernon reflected a minute. The money was to pass through his hands. He compressed a desire to dispute with Sedgett that latter point about the agreement, and opened Edward's letter.
It contained an order on a firm of attorneys to sell out so much Bank Stock and pay over one thousand pounds to Mr. A. Blancove.
The beautiful concision of style in this document gave Algernon a feeling of profound deference toward the law and its officers.
“Now, that's the way to Write!” he said.
CHAPTER XXVIII
Accompanying this pleasant, pregnant bit of paper, possessed of such admirable literary excellence, were the following flimsy lines from Edward's self, to Algernon incomprehensible.