Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Eighteen.A Soirée Wildly Interrupted, and Followed up by Surprising Revelations.One afternoon Captain Lee and Emma called on Mrs Tipps, and found her engaged in earnest conversation with Netta. The captain, who was always in a boiling-over condition, and never felt quite happy except when in the act of planning or carrying out some scheme for the increase of general happiness, soon discovered that Netta was discussing the details of a little treat which she meant to give to the boys and girls of a Sunday-school which she and her mother superintended. With all his penetration he did not, however, find out that the matter which called most for consideration was the financial part of the scheme—in other words, how to accomplish the end desired with extremely limited means. He solved the question for them, however, by asserting that he intended to give all the scholars of all the Sunday-schools in the neighbourhood a treat, and of course meant to include Netta’s school among the rest—unless, of course, she possessed so much exclusive pride as to refuse to join him.There was no resisting Captain Lee. As well might a red-skin attempt to stop Niagara. When once he had made up his mind to “go in” for something, no mortal power could stop him. He might indeed beturned. Another object of interest, worthy of pursuit and judiciously put before him, might perhaps induce him to abandon a previous scheme; but once his steam was up, as John Marrot used to say, you could not get him to blow it off into the air. He was unlike the iron horse in that respect, although somewhat like him in the rigour of his action. Accordingly the thing was fixed. Invitations were sent out to all the schools and to all who took an interest in them, and the place fixed on was a field at the back of Mrs Tipps’s villa.The day came, and with it the children in their best array. The weather was all that could be wished—a bright sun and a clear sky,—so that the huge tent provided in case of rain, was found to be only required to shade the provisions from the sun. Besides the children there were the teachers—many of them little more than children as to years, but with a happy earnestness of countenance and manner which told of another element in their breasts that evidently deepened and intensified their joy. There were several visitors and friends of Captain Lee and Mrs Tipps. Emma was there, of course, the busiest of the busy in making arrangements for the feast which consisted chiefly of fruit, buns, and milk. Netta and she managed that department together. Of course little Gertie was there and her sister Loo, from which we may conclude that Will Garvie was there in spirit, not only because that would have been natural, but because he had expressly told Loo the day before that he meant to be present in that attenuated condition. Bodily, poor fellow, he was on the foot-plate of theLightning, which is as much as to say that he was everywhere by turns, and nowhere long. Mrs Marrot was there too, and baby, with Nanny Stocks as his guardian. Miss Stocks’s chief employment during the evening appeared to be to forget herself in the excess of her delight, and run baby’s head against all sorts of things and persons. Perhaps it was as well she did so, because it tended to repress his energy. She acted the part of regulator and safety-valve to that small human engine, by controlling his actions and permitting him good-naturedly to let off much of his superfluous steam on herself. Indeed she was a species of strong buffer in this respect, receiving and neutralising many a severe blow from his irrepressible feet and fists. Bob Marrot was also there with his bosom friend Tomtit Dorkin, whose sole occupation in life up to that time had been to put screws on nuts; this must have been “nuts” to him, as the Yankees have it, because, being a diligent little fellow, he managed to screw himself through life at the Clatterby Works to the tune of twelve shillings a week. Joseph Tipps, having got leave of absence for an evening, was also there,—modest amiable, active and self-abnegating. So was Mrs Natly, who, in consideration of her delicate health, was taken great care of, and very much made of, by Mrs Tipps and her family—conspicuously by Mrs Durby, who had become very fond of her since the night she nursed her. Indeed there is little doubt that Mrs Durby and the bottle of wine were the turning-point of Mrs Natly’s illness, and that but for them, poor Sam would have been a widower by that time. Mr Able, the director, was also there, bland and beaming, with a brother director who was anything but bland or beaming, being possessed of a grave, massive, strongly marked and stern countenance; but nevertheless, owning a similar spirit and a heart which beat high with philanthropic desires and designs—though few who came in contact with him, except his intimate friends, would believe it. There were also present an elderly clergyman and a young curate—both good, earnest men, but each very different in many respects from the other. The elder clergyman had a genial, hearty countenance and manner, and he dressed very much like other gentlemen. The young curate might have breakfasted on his poker, to judge from the stiffness of his back, and appeared to be afraid of suffering from cold in the knees and chest, to judge from the length of his surtout and the height of his plain buttonless vest.When all were assembled on the green and the viands spread, the elder clergyman gave out a hymn; and the curate, who had a capital voice, led off, but he was speedily drowned by the gush of song that rose from the children’s lips. It was a lively hymn, and they evidently rejoiced to sing it. Then the elder clergyman made the children a short speech. It was amazingly brief, insomuch that it quite took the little ones by surprise—so short was it, indeed and so much to the point, that we will venture to set it down here.“Dear children,” he said, in a loud voice that silenced every chattering tongue, “we have met here to enjoy ourselves. There is but one of your Sunday lessons which I will remind you of to-day. It is this,—‘Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’ Before beginning, then, let us ask God’s blessing.”Thereupon he asked a blessing, which was also so brief, that, but for the all-prevailing name of Jesus, with which he closed it, some of those who heard him would scarce have deemed it a prayer at all. Yet this elderly clergyman was not always brief.He was not brief, for instance, in his private prayers for himself, his friends, and his flock. Brevity did not mark his proceedings when engaged in preparing for the Sabbath services. He was not brief when, in his study, he pleaded with some awakened but unbelieving soul to cast itself unreservedly on the finished work of our Saviour. He was a man who carried his tact and common-sense into his religious duties; who hated formalism, regarding it as one of the great stumbling-blocks in the progress of Christianity, and who endeavoured at all times to suit his words and actions to the circumstances of the occasion.The children regarded him with a degree of affection that was all but irrepressible, and which induced them, at his earnest request, to sit still for a considerable time while his young brother gave them “ashortaddress.” He was almost emphatic on the wordshort, but the young curate did not appear to take the hint, or to understand the meaning of that word either in regard to discourses or surtouts. He asserted himself in his surtouts and vests, without of course having a shadow of reason for so doing, save that some other young curates asserted themselves in the same way; and he asserted himself then and there in a tone of voice called “sermonising,” to which foolish young men are sometimes addicted, and which, by the way, being a false, and therefore irreligious tone, is another great stumbling-block in the way of Christianity. And, curiously enough, this young curate was really an earnest, though mistaken and intensely bigoted young man. We call him bigoted, not because he held his own opinions, but because he held by his little formalities with as much apparent fervour as he held by the grand doctrines of his religion, although for the latter he had the authority of the Word, while for the former he had merely the authority of man. His discourse was a good one, and if delivered in a natural voice and at a suitable time, might have made a good impression. As it was, it produced pity and regret in his elder brother, exasperation in Captain Lee, profound melancholy in Joseph Tipps, great admiration in Miss Stocks and the baby, and unutterableennuiin the children. Fortunately for the success of the day, in the middle of it, he took occasion to make some reference, with allegorical intentions, to the lower animals, and pointed to a pig which lay basking in the sunshine at no great distance, an unconcerned spectator of the scene. A rather obtuse, fat-faced boy, was suddenly smitten with the belief that this was intended as a joke, and dutifully clapped his hands. The effect was electrical—an irresistible cheer and clapping of hands ensued. It was of no use to attempt to check it. The more this was tried the more did the children seem to think they were invited to a continuance of their ovation to the young curate, who finally retired amid the hearty though unexpressed congratulations of the company.By good fortune, the arrival of several more friends diverted attention from this incident; and, immediately after, Captain Lee set the children to engage in various games, among which the favourite was blindman’s-buff.One of the new arrivals was Edwin Gurwood, who had come, he said, to introduce a gentleman—Dr Noble—to Mrs Tipps.“Oh, the hypocrite!” thought Mrs Tipps; “he has come to see Emma Lee, and he knows it.”Of course he knew it, and he knew that Mrs Tipps knew it, and he knew that Mrs Tipps knew that he knew it, yet neither he nor Mrs Tipps showed the slightest symptom of all that knowledge. The latter bowed to Dr Noble, and was expressing her happiness in making his acquaintance, when a rush of laughing children almost overturned her, and hurled Dr Noble aside. They were immediately separated in the crowd, and, strange to say, Edwin at once found himself standing beside Emma Lee, who, by some curious coincidence, had just parted from Netta, so that they found themselves comparatively alone. What they said to each other in these circumstances it does not become us to divulge.While all parties were enjoying themselves to the full, including the young curate, whose discomfiture was softened by the kind attentions of Mrs Tipps and her daughter, an incident occurred which filled them with surprise and consternation. Dr Noble was standing at the time near the large tent looking at the games, and Nanny Stocks was not far from him choking the baby with alternate sweetmeats and kisses, to the horror of Joseph Tipps, who fully expected to witness a case of croup or some such infantine disease in a few minutes, when suddenly a tall man with torn clothes, dishevelled hair and bloodshot eyes, sprang forward and confronted Dr Noble.“Ha!” he exclaimed with a wild laugh, “have I found you at last, mine enemy?”Dr Noble looked at him with much surprise, but did not reply. He appeared to be paralysed.“I have sought you,” continued the man, trembling with ill-suppressed passion, “over land and sea, and now I’ve found you. You’ve got the casket—you know you have; you took it from my wife the night she died; you shall give it up now, or you die!”He spluttered rather than spoke the last words between his teeth, as he made a spring at the doctor.Edwin Gurwood had seen the man approach, and at once to his amazement recognising the features of Thomson, his old opponent in the train, he ran towards him, but was not near enough to prevent his first wild attack. Fortunately for Dr Noble this was thwarted by no less a personage than Joseph Tipps, who, seeing what was intended, sprang promptly forward, and, seizing the man by the legs adroitly threw him down. With a yell that sent a chill of horror to all the young hearts round, the madman, for such he plainly was, leaped up, but before he could renew his attack he was in the powerful grasp of his old enemy, Edwin Gurwood. A terrific struggle ensued, for both men, as we have said before, were unusually powerful; but on this occasion madness more than counterbalanced Edwin’s superior strength. For some time they wrestled so fiercely that none of the other gentlemen could interfere with effect. They dashed down the large tent and went crashing through thedébrisof the feast until at length Thomson made a sudden twist freed himself from Edwin’s grasp, leaving a shred of his coat in his hands, and, flying across the field, leaped at a single bound the wall that encompassed it. He was closely followed by Edwin and by a constable of the district, who happened to arrive upon the scene, but the fugitive left them far behind, and was soon out of sight.This incident put an end to the evening’s enjoyment but as the greater part of it had already passed delightfully before Thomson came on the ground to mar the sport, the children returned home much pleased with themselves and everybody else, despite the concluding scene.Meanwhile Mrs Tipps invited her friends who had assembled there to take tea in Eden Villa, and here Dr Noble was eagerly questioned as to his knowledge of his late assailant, but he either could not or would not throw light on the subject. Some of the guests left early and some late, but to Mrs Tipps’s surprise the doctor remained till the last of them had said good-night, after which, to her still greater surprise, he drew his chair close to the table, and, looking at her and Netta with much earnestness, said—“Probably you are surprised, ladies, that I, a stranger, have remained so long to-night. The truth is, I had come here to have some conversation on private and very important matters, but finding you so lively, and, I must add, so pleasantly engaged, I deemed it expedient to defer my conversation until you should be more at leisure.”He paused as if to collect his thoughts, and the ladies glanced at each other uneasily, and in some surprise, but made no reply. In truth, remembering the scene they had just witnessed, they began to suspect that another style of madman had thought fit to pay them a visit.He resumed, however, with every appearance of sanity—“How the madman who assaulted me this evening found me out I know not. I was not aware until this day that he had been tracking me, but, judging from what he said, and from what I know about him, I now see that he must have been doing so for some years. Here is the explanation, and, let me add, it intimately concerns yourselves.”Mrs Tipps and Netta became more interested as Dr Noble proceeded.“You must know,” he said, “that when in India some years ago I made several coasting voyages with a certain sea-captain as surgeon of his ship, at periods when my health required recruiting. I received from that gentleman every attention and kindness that the heart of a good man could suggest. On one of these voyages we had a native prince on board. He was voyaging, like myself, for the benefit of his health, but his case was a bad one. He grew rapidly worse, and before the end of the voyage he died. During his illness the captain nursed him as if he had been his own child; all the more tenderly that he thought him to be one of those unfortunate princes who, owing to political changes, had been ruined, and had lost all his wealth along with his station. It was quite touching, I assure you, madam, to listen to the earnest tones of that captain’s voice as he read passages from the Word of God to the dying prince, and sought to convince him that Jesus Christ, who became poor for our sakes, could bestow spiritual wealth that neither the world, nor life, nor death could take away. The prince spoke very little, but he listened most intently. Just before he died he sent a sailor lad who attended on him, for the captain, and, taking a small box from beneath his pillow, gave it to him, saying briefly,—‘Here, take it, you have been my best friend, I shall need it no more.’“After he was dead the box was opened, and found to contain a most superb set of diamonds—a necklace, brooch, ear-rings, bracelets, and a ring, besides a quantity of gold pieces, the whole being worth several thousands of pounds.“As the prince had often said that all his kindred were dead, the captain had no conscientious scruples in retaining the gift. He locked it away in his cabin. When the voyage was finished—at Calcutta—the men were paid off. The captain then be-thought him of placing his treasure in some place of security in the city. He went to his chest and took out the box—it was light—he opened it hastily—the contents were gone! Nothing was left to him of that splendid gift save the ring, which he had placed on his finger soon after receiving it, and had worn ever since.“From some circumstances that recurred to our memories, we both suspected the young man who had been in attendance on the prince, but, although we caused the most diligent search to be made, we failed to find him. My friend and I parted soon after. I was sent up to the hills, and never saw or heard of him again.“Several years after that I happened to be residing in Calcutta, and was called one night to see the wife of an Englishman who was thought to be dying. I found her very ill—near her end. She seemed to be anxious to communicate something to me, but appeared to be afraid of her husband. I thought, on looking at him attentively, that I had seen him before, and said so. He seemed to be annoyed, and denied ever having met with me. I treated the matter lightly, but took occasion to send him out for some physic, and, while he was away, encouraged the woman to unburden her mind. She was not slow to do so. ‘Oh, sir,’ she said, ‘I want to communicate a secret, but dared not while my husband was by. Long ago, before I knew him, my husband stole a box of diamonds from a Captain Tipps—’”“My husband!” exclaimed the widow.“You shall hear,” said Dr Noble. “‘I often heard him tell the story, and boast of it,’ continued the sick woman, quietly, ‘and I resolved to obtain possession of the box, and have it returned, if possible, to the rightful owner. So I carried out my purpose—no matter how—and led him to suppose that the treasure had been stolen; but I have often fancied he did not believe me. This Captain Tipps was a friend of yours, sir. I know it, because my husband has told me. He remembers you, although you don’t remember him. I wish you to return the box to Captain Tipps, sir, if he is yet alive. It lies—’ here she drew me close to her, and whispered in my ear the exact spot, under a tree, where the jewels were hid.“‘You’ll be sure to remember the place?’ she asked, anxiously.“‘Remember what place?’ demanded her husband, sternly, as he returned with the medicine.“No answer was given. The woman fell back on hearing his voice, but, although she lived for nearly an hour, never spoke again.“The man turned on me, and asked again what place she had been speaking of. I said that it was idle to repeat what might prove to be only the ravings of a dying woman. He seized a bludgeon, and, raising it in a threatening manner, said, ‘I know you, Dr Noble; you shall tell me what I want to know, else you shall not quit this room alive.’“‘I know you, too, Thomson,’ said I, drawing a small sword from a stick which I always carried. ‘If you proceed to violence, it remains to be seen who shall quit this room alive.’“I opened the door and walked quietly out, leaving him glaring like a tiger after me.“Going to the place described, I found the diamonds; and from that day to this I have not ceased to try to discover my old friend, but have not yet succeeded. Knowing that he might be dead, I have made inquiry of every one possessing your name, Mrs Tipps, in the hope of discovering his widow or children; and, although your nameisan uncommon one, madam, you would be surprised if you knew how many I have ferreted out in the course of years. Unfortunately, my friend never mentioned his family, or the place of his residence in England, so I have had no clue to guide me save one. I have even found two widows of the name of Tipps besides yourself, and one of these said that her husband was a sailor captain, but her description of him was not that of my friend. The other said her husband had been a lawyer, so of coursehecould not be the man of whom I was in search.”“But, sir,” said Mrs Tipps, in some perplexity, “if you are to depend on description, I fear that you will never attain your end, for every one knows that descriptions given of the same person by different people never quite agree.”“That is true, madam; and the description given to me this evening of your late husband is a case in point; for, although it agrees in many things—in most things—there is some discrepancy. Did your husband never give you the slightest hint about a set of diamonds that he had once lost?”“Never; but I can account for that by the fact, that he never alluded to anything that had at any time given him pain or displeasure, if he could avoid it.”“There is but the one clue, then, that I spoke of, namely, the ring that belonged to the set of diamonds. Did your husband ever possess—”“The ring!” exclaimed Mrs Tipps and Netta in the same breath. “Yes, he had a diamond ring—”They stopped abruptly, and looked at each other in distress, for they remembered that the ring had been lost.“Pray, what sort of ring is it? Describe it to me,” said Dr Noble.Netta carefully described it and, as she did so, the visitor’s countenance brightened.“That’s it; that’s it exactly; thatmustbe it for I remember it well, and it corresponds in all respects with—my dear ladies, let me see the ring without delay.”“Alas! sir,” said Mrs Tipps, sadly, “the ring is lost!”A look of blank dismay clouded poor Dr Noble’s visage as he heard these words, but he quickly questioned the ladies as to the loss, and became more hopeful on bearing the details.“Come,” he said at last, as he rose to take leave, “things don’t look quite so bad as they did at first. From all I have heard I am convinced that my friend’s widow and daughter are before me—a sight of the ring would put the question beyond all doubt. We must therefore set to work at once and bend all our energies to the one great point of recovering the lost ring.”

One afternoon Captain Lee and Emma called on Mrs Tipps, and found her engaged in earnest conversation with Netta. The captain, who was always in a boiling-over condition, and never felt quite happy except when in the act of planning or carrying out some scheme for the increase of general happiness, soon discovered that Netta was discussing the details of a little treat which she meant to give to the boys and girls of a Sunday-school which she and her mother superintended. With all his penetration he did not, however, find out that the matter which called most for consideration was the financial part of the scheme—in other words, how to accomplish the end desired with extremely limited means. He solved the question for them, however, by asserting that he intended to give all the scholars of all the Sunday-schools in the neighbourhood a treat, and of course meant to include Netta’s school among the rest—unless, of course, she possessed so much exclusive pride as to refuse to join him.

There was no resisting Captain Lee. As well might a red-skin attempt to stop Niagara. When once he had made up his mind to “go in” for something, no mortal power could stop him. He might indeed beturned. Another object of interest, worthy of pursuit and judiciously put before him, might perhaps induce him to abandon a previous scheme; but once his steam was up, as John Marrot used to say, you could not get him to blow it off into the air. He was unlike the iron horse in that respect, although somewhat like him in the rigour of his action. Accordingly the thing was fixed. Invitations were sent out to all the schools and to all who took an interest in them, and the place fixed on was a field at the back of Mrs Tipps’s villa.

The day came, and with it the children in their best array. The weather was all that could be wished—a bright sun and a clear sky,—so that the huge tent provided in case of rain, was found to be only required to shade the provisions from the sun. Besides the children there were the teachers—many of them little more than children as to years, but with a happy earnestness of countenance and manner which told of another element in their breasts that evidently deepened and intensified their joy. There were several visitors and friends of Captain Lee and Mrs Tipps. Emma was there, of course, the busiest of the busy in making arrangements for the feast which consisted chiefly of fruit, buns, and milk. Netta and she managed that department together. Of course little Gertie was there and her sister Loo, from which we may conclude that Will Garvie was there in spirit, not only because that would have been natural, but because he had expressly told Loo the day before that he meant to be present in that attenuated condition. Bodily, poor fellow, he was on the foot-plate of theLightning, which is as much as to say that he was everywhere by turns, and nowhere long. Mrs Marrot was there too, and baby, with Nanny Stocks as his guardian. Miss Stocks’s chief employment during the evening appeared to be to forget herself in the excess of her delight, and run baby’s head against all sorts of things and persons. Perhaps it was as well she did so, because it tended to repress his energy. She acted the part of regulator and safety-valve to that small human engine, by controlling his actions and permitting him good-naturedly to let off much of his superfluous steam on herself. Indeed she was a species of strong buffer in this respect, receiving and neutralising many a severe blow from his irrepressible feet and fists. Bob Marrot was also there with his bosom friend Tomtit Dorkin, whose sole occupation in life up to that time had been to put screws on nuts; this must have been “nuts” to him, as the Yankees have it, because, being a diligent little fellow, he managed to screw himself through life at the Clatterby Works to the tune of twelve shillings a week. Joseph Tipps, having got leave of absence for an evening, was also there,—modest amiable, active and self-abnegating. So was Mrs Natly, who, in consideration of her delicate health, was taken great care of, and very much made of, by Mrs Tipps and her family—conspicuously by Mrs Durby, who had become very fond of her since the night she nursed her. Indeed there is little doubt that Mrs Durby and the bottle of wine were the turning-point of Mrs Natly’s illness, and that but for them, poor Sam would have been a widower by that time. Mr Able, the director, was also there, bland and beaming, with a brother director who was anything but bland or beaming, being possessed of a grave, massive, strongly marked and stern countenance; but nevertheless, owning a similar spirit and a heart which beat high with philanthropic desires and designs—though few who came in contact with him, except his intimate friends, would believe it. There were also present an elderly clergyman and a young curate—both good, earnest men, but each very different in many respects from the other. The elder clergyman had a genial, hearty countenance and manner, and he dressed very much like other gentlemen. The young curate might have breakfasted on his poker, to judge from the stiffness of his back, and appeared to be afraid of suffering from cold in the knees and chest, to judge from the length of his surtout and the height of his plain buttonless vest.

When all were assembled on the green and the viands spread, the elder clergyman gave out a hymn; and the curate, who had a capital voice, led off, but he was speedily drowned by the gush of song that rose from the children’s lips. It was a lively hymn, and they evidently rejoiced to sing it. Then the elder clergyman made the children a short speech. It was amazingly brief, insomuch that it quite took the little ones by surprise—so short was it, indeed and so much to the point, that we will venture to set it down here.

“Dear children,” he said, in a loud voice that silenced every chattering tongue, “we have met here to enjoy ourselves. There is but one of your Sunday lessons which I will remind you of to-day. It is this,—‘Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.’ Before beginning, then, let us ask God’s blessing.”

Thereupon he asked a blessing, which was also so brief, that, but for the all-prevailing name of Jesus, with which he closed it, some of those who heard him would scarce have deemed it a prayer at all. Yet this elderly clergyman was not always brief.

He was not brief, for instance, in his private prayers for himself, his friends, and his flock. Brevity did not mark his proceedings when engaged in preparing for the Sabbath services. He was not brief when, in his study, he pleaded with some awakened but unbelieving soul to cast itself unreservedly on the finished work of our Saviour. He was a man who carried his tact and common-sense into his religious duties; who hated formalism, regarding it as one of the great stumbling-blocks in the progress of Christianity, and who endeavoured at all times to suit his words and actions to the circumstances of the occasion.

The children regarded him with a degree of affection that was all but irrepressible, and which induced them, at his earnest request, to sit still for a considerable time while his young brother gave them “ashortaddress.” He was almost emphatic on the wordshort, but the young curate did not appear to take the hint, or to understand the meaning of that word either in regard to discourses or surtouts. He asserted himself in his surtouts and vests, without of course having a shadow of reason for so doing, save that some other young curates asserted themselves in the same way; and he asserted himself then and there in a tone of voice called “sermonising,” to which foolish young men are sometimes addicted, and which, by the way, being a false, and therefore irreligious tone, is another great stumbling-block in the way of Christianity. And, curiously enough, this young curate was really an earnest, though mistaken and intensely bigoted young man. We call him bigoted, not because he held his own opinions, but because he held by his little formalities with as much apparent fervour as he held by the grand doctrines of his religion, although for the latter he had the authority of the Word, while for the former he had merely the authority of man. His discourse was a good one, and if delivered in a natural voice and at a suitable time, might have made a good impression. As it was, it produced pity and regret in his elder brother, exasperation in Captain Lee, profound melancholy in Joseph Tipps, great admiration in Miss Stocks and the baby, and unutterableennuiin the children. Fortunately for the success of the day, in the middle of it, he took occasion to make some reference, with allegorical intentions, to the lower animals, and pointed to a pig which lay basking in the sunshine at no great distance, an unconcerned spectator of the scene. A rather obtuse, fat-faced boy, was suddenly smitten with the belief that this was intended as a joke, and dutifully clapped his hands. The effect was electrical—an irresistible cheer and clapping of hands ensued. It was of no use to attempt to check it. The more this was tried the more did the children seem to think they were invited to a continuance of their ovation to the young curate, who finally retired amid the hearty though unexpressed congratulations of the company.

By good fortune, the arrival of several more friends diverted attention from this incident; and, immediately after, Captain Lee set the children to engage in various games, among which the favourite was blindman’s-buff.

One of the new arrivals was Edwin Gurwood, who had come, he said, to introduce a gentleman—Dr Noble—to Mrs Tipps.

“Oh, the hypocrite!” thought Mrs Tipps; “he has come to see Emma Lee, and he knows it.”

Of course he knew it, and he knew that Mrs Tipps knew it, and he knew that Mrs Tipps knew that he knew it, yet neither he nor Mrs Tipps showed the slightest symptom of all that knowledge. The latter bowed to Dr Noble, and was expressing her happiness in making his acquaintance, when a rush of laughing children almost overturned her, and hurled Dr Noble aside. They were immediately separated in the crowd, and, strange to say, Edwin at once found himself standing beside Emma Lee, who, by some curious coincidence, had just parted from Netta, so that they found themselves comparatively alone. What they said to each other in these circumstances it does not become us to divulge.

While all parties were enjoying themselves to the full, including the young curate, whose discomfiture was softened by the kind attentions of Mrs Tipps and her daughter, an incident occurred which filled them with surprise and consternation. Dr Noble was standing at the time near the large tent looking at the games, and Nanny Stocks was not far from him choking the baby with alternate sweetmeats and kisses, to the horror of Joseph Tipps, who fully expected to witness a case of croup or some such infantine disease in a few minutes, when suddenly a tall man with torn clothes, dishevelled hair and bloodshot eyes, sprang forward and confronted Dr Noble.

“Ha!” he exclaimed with a wild laugh, “have I found you at last, mine enemy?”

Dr Noble looked at him with much surprise, but did not reply. He appeared to be paralysed.

“I have sought you,” continued the man, trembling with ill-suppressed passion, “over land and sea, and now I’ve found you. You’ve got the casket—you know you have; you took it from my wife the night she died; you shall give it up now, or you die!”

He spluttered rather than spoke the last words between his teeth, as he made a spring at the doctor.

Edwin Gurwood had seen the man approach, and at once to his amazement recognising the features of Thomson, his old opponent in the train, he ran towards him, but was not near enough to prevent his first wild attack. Fortunately for Dr Noble this was thwarted by no less a personage than Joseph Tipps, who, seeing what was intended, sprang promptly forward, and, seizing the man by the legs adroitly threw him down. With a yell that sent a chill of horror to all the young hearts round, the madman, for such he plainly was, leaped up, but before he could renew his attack he was in the powerful grasp of his old enemy, Edwin Gurwood. A terrific struggle ensued, for both men, as we have said before, were unusually powerful; but on this occasion madness more than counterbalanced Edwin’s superior strength. For some time they wrestled so fiercely that none of the other gentlemen could interfere with effect. They dashed down the large tent and went crashing through thedébrisof the feast until at length Thomson made a sudden twist freed himself from Edwin’s grasp, leaving a shred of his coat in his hands, and, flying across the field, leaped at a single bound the wall that encompassed it. He was closely followed by Edwin and by a constable of the district, who happened to arrive upon the scene, but the fugitive left them far behind, and was soon out of sight.

This incident put an end to the evening’s enjoyment but as the greater part of it had already passed delightfully before Thomson came on the ground to mar the sport, the children returned home much pleased with themselves and everybody else, despite the concluding scene.

Meanwhile Mrs Tipps invited her friends who had assembled there to take tea in Eden Villa, and here Dr Noble was eagerly questioned as to his knowledge of his late assailant, but he either could not or would not throw light on the subject. Some of the guests left early and some late, but to Mrs Tipps’s surprise the doctor remained till the last of them had said good-night, after which, to her still greater surprise, he drew his chair close to the table, and, looking at her and Netta with much earnestness, said—

“Probably you are surprised, ladies, that I, a stranger, have remained so long to-night. The truth is, I had come here to have some conversation on private and very important matters, but finding you so lively, and, I must add, so pleasantly engaged, I deemed it expedient to defer my conversation until you should be more at leisure.”

He paused as if to collect his thoughts, and the ladies glanced at each other uneasily, and in some surprise, but made no reply. In truth, remembering the scene they had just witnessed, they began to suspect that another style of madman had thought fit to pay them a visit.

He resumed, however, with every appearance of sanity—

“How the madman who assaulted me this evening found me out I know not. I was not aware until this day that he had been tracking me, but, judging from what he said, and from what I know about him, I now see that he must have been doing so for some years. Here is the explanation, and, let me add, it intimately concerns yourselves.”

Mrs Tipps and Netta became more interested as Dr Noble proceeded.

“You must know,” he said, “that when in India some years ago I made several coasting voyages with a certain sea-captain as surgeon of his ship, at periods when my health required recruiting. I received from that gentleman every attention and kindness that the heart of a good man could suggest. On one of these voyages we had a native prince on board. He was voyaging, like myself, for the benefit of his health, but his case was a bad one. He grew rapidly worse, and before the end of the voyage he died. During his illness the captain nursed him as if he had been his own child; all the more tenderly that he thought him to be one of those unfortunate princes who, owing to political changes, had been ruined, and had lost all his wealth along with his station. It was quite touching, I assure you, madam, to listen to the earnest tones of that captain’s voice as he read passages from the Word of God to the dying prince, and sought to convince him that Jesus Christ, who became poor for our sakes, could bestow spiritual wealth that neither the world, nor life, nor death could take away. The prince spoke very little, but he listened most intently. Just before he died he sent a sailor lad who attended on him, for the captain, and, taking a small box from beneath his pillow, gave it to him, saying briefly,—‘Here, take it, you have been my best friend, I shall need it no more.’

“After he was dead the box was opened, and found to contain a most superb set of diamonds—a necklace, brooch, ear-rings, bracelets, and a ring, besides a quantity of gold pieces, the whole being worth several thousands of pounds.

“As the prince had often said that all his kindred were dead, the captain had no conscientious scruples in retaining the gift. He locked it away in his cabin. When the voyage was finished—at Calcutta—the men were paid off. The captain then be-thought him of placing his treasure in some place of security in the city. He went to his chest and took out the box—it was light—he opened it hastily—the contents were gone! Nothing was left to him of that splendid gift save the ring, which he had placed on his finger soon after receiving it, and had worn ever since.

“From some circumstances that recurred to our memories, we both suspected the young man who had been in attendance on the prince, but, although we caused the most diligent search to be made, we failed to find him. My friend and I parted soon after. I was sent up to the hills, and never saw or heard of him again.

“Several years after that I happened to be residing in Calcutta, and was called one night to see the wife of an Englishman who was thought to be dying. I found her very ill—near her end. She seemed to be anxious to communicate something to me, but appeared to be afraid of her husband. I thought, on looking at him attentively, that I had seen him before, and said so. He seemed to be annoyed, and denied ever having met with me. I treated the matter lightly, but took occasion to send him out for some physic, and, while he was away, encouraged the woman to unburden her mind. She was not slow to do so. ‘Oh, sir,’ she said, ‘I want to communicate a secret, but dared not while my husband was by. Long ago, before I knew him, my husband stole a box of diamonds from a Captain Tipps—’”

“My husband!” exclaimed the widow.

“You shall hear,” said Dr Noble. “‘I often heard him tell the story, and boast of it,’ continued the sick woman, quietly, ‘and I resolved to obtain possession of the box, and have it returned, if possible, to the rightful owner. So I carried out my purpose—no matter how—and led him to suppose that the treasure had been stolen; but I have often fancied he did not believe me. This Captain Tipps was a friend of yours, sir. I know it, because my husband has told me. He remembers you, although you don’t remember him. I wish you to return the box to Captain Tipps, sir, if he is yet alive. It lies—’ here she drew me close to her, and whispered in my ear the exact spot, under a tree, where the jewels were hid.

“‘You’ll be sure to remember the place?’ she asked, anxiously.

“‘Remember what place?’ demanded her husband, sternly, as he returned with the medicine.

“No answer was given. The woman fell back on hearing his voice, but, although she lived for nearly an hour, never spoke again.

“The man turned on me, and asked again what place she had been speaking of. I said that it was idle to repeat what might prove to be only the ravings of a dying woman. He seized a bludgeon, and, raising it in a threatening manner, said, ‘I know you, Dr Noble; you shall tell me what I want to know, else you shall not quit this room alive.’

“‘I know you, too, Thomson,’ said I, drawing a small sword from a stick which I always carried. ‘If you proceed to violence, it remains to be seen who shall quit this room alive.’

“I opened the door and walked quietly out, leaving him glaring like a tiger after me.

“Going to the place described, I found the diamonds; and from that day to this I have not ceased to try to discover my old friend, but have not yet succeeded. Knowing that he might be dead, I have made inquiry of every one possessing your name, Mrs Tipps, in the hope of discovering his widow or children; and, although your nameisan uncommon one, madam, you would be surprised if you knew how many I have ferreted out in the course of years. Unfortunately, my friend never mentioned his family, or the place of his residence in England, so I have had no clue to guide me save one. I have even found two widows of the name of Tipps besides yourself, and one of these said that her husband was a sailor captain, but her description of him was not that of my friend. The other said her husband had been a lawyer, so of coursehecould not be the man of whom I was in search.”

“But, sir,” said Mrs Tipps, in some perplexity, “if you are to depend on description, I fear that you will never attain your end, for every one knows that descriptions given of the same person by different people never quite agree.”

“That is true, madam; and the description given to me this evening of your late husband is a case in point; for, although it agrees in many things—in most things—there is some discrepancy. Did your husband never give you the slightest hint about a set of diamonds that he had once lost?”

“Never; but I can account for that by the fact, that he never alluded to anything that had at any time given him pain or displeasure, if he could avoid it.”

“There is but the one clue, then, that I spoke of, namely, the ring that belonged to the set of diamonds. Did your husband ever possess—”

“The ring!” exclaimed Mrs Tipps and Netta in the same breath. “Yes, he had a diamond ring—”

They stopped abruptly, and looked at each other in distress, for they remembered that the ring had been lost.

“Pray, what sort of ring is it? Describe it to me,” said Dr Noble.

Netta carefully described it and, as she did so, the visitor’s countenance brightened.

“That’s it; that’s it exactly; thatmustbe it for I remember it well, and it corresponds in all respects with—my dear ladies, let me see the ring without delay.”

“Alas! sir,” said Mrs Tipps, sadly, “the ring is lost!”

A look of blank dismay clouded poor Dr Noble’s visage as he heard these words, but he quickly questioned the ladies as to the loss, and became more hopeful on bearing the details.

“Come,” he said at last, as he rose to take leave, “things don’t look quite so bad as they did at first. From all I have heard I am convinced that my friend’s widow and daughter are before me—a sight of the ring would put the question beyond all doubt. We must therefore set to work at once and bend all our energies to the one great point of recovering the lost ring.”

Chapter Nineteen.A Run-away Locomotive.Being, as we have had occasion to remark before, a communicative and confiding little woman, Netta Tipps told the secret of the ring in strict confidence to her old nurse. Mrs Durby, in a weak moment as on a former occasion, related the history of it to Gertie, who of course told Loo. She naturally mentioned it to her lover, Will Garvie, and he conveyed the information to John Marrot. Thus far, but no further, the thing went, for John felt that there might be danger in spreading the matter, and laid a strict injunction on all who knew of it to keep silence for a time.While at the station the day following, just after having brought in the “Flying Dutchman,” he was accosted by the superintendent of police, who chanced to be lounging there with, apparently, nothing to do. Never was there a man who was more frequently called on to belie his true character. It was a part of Mr Sharp’s duty to look lazy at times, and even stupid, so as to throw suspicious men off their guard.“A fine day, John,” he said, lounging up to the engine where John was leaning on the rail, contemplating the departure of the passengers whose lives had been in his hands for the last hour and a half, while Will Garvie was oiling some of the joints of the iron horse.John admitted that it was a fine day, and asked what was the noos.“Nothing particular doing just now,” said Mr Sharp. “You’ve heard, I suppose, of the mad fellow who caused such a confusion among Miss Tipps’s Sunday-school children last night?”“Oh yes, I heard o’ that.”“And did you hear that he turns out to be the man who jumped out of your train on the day of the attempted robbery?”“Yes, I’ve heard o’ that too. They haven’t got him yet, I believe?”“No, not yet; but I think we shall have him soon,” said Mr Sharp with a knowing glance; “I’ve heard rumours that lead me to think it would not be very surprising if we were to see him hanging about this station to-day or to-morrow. I’ve got a sort of decoy-duck to attract him,” continued Mr Sharp, chuckling, “in the shape of a retired East India doctor, who agrees to hang about on the condition that we keep a sharp eye on him and guard him well from any sudden attack.”“You don’t meanthat?” said the engine-driver in an earnest undertone.Instead of replying, the superintendent suddenly left him and sauntered leisurely along the platform, with his eyes cast down and softly humming a popular air.The act was so brusque and unlike Mr Sharp’s naturally polite character that John knew at once, as he said, that “something was up,” and looked earnestly along the platform, where he saw Thomson himself walking smartly about as if in search of some one. He carried a heavy-headed stick in his hand and looked excited; but not much more so than an anxious or late passenger might be.Mr Sharp went straight towards the madman—still sauntering with his head down, however; and John Marrot could see that another man, whom he knew to be a detective, was walking round by the side of the platform, with the evident intention of taking him in rear. The moment Thomson set eyes on the superintendent he recognised him, and apparently divined his object in approaching, for he started, clenched his teeth, and grasped his stick. Mr Sharp instantly abandoned all attempt at concealment and ran straight at him. Thomson, probably deeming discretion the better part of valour, turned and fled. He almost ran into the arms of the detective, who now made sure of him, but he doubled like a hare and sprang off the platform on to the rails. Here one or two of the men who were engaged in washing or otherwise looking after empty carriages, seeing what was going on, at once sought to intercept the madman, but he evaded two or three, knocked down another, and, finding himself alongside of a detached engine which stood there with steam up ready to be coupled to its train, he leaped upon it, felled the driver who was outside the rail, oiling some of the machinery, seized the handle of the regulator and turned on full steam.The driving-wheels revolved at first with such tremendous rapidity that they failed to “bite” and merely slipped on the rails. Thomson was engineer enough to understand why, and at once cut off part of the steam. Next moment he shot out of the station, and, again letting on full steam, rushed along the line like an arrow!It chanced that the passenger-superintendent was on the platform at the time. That gentleman had everything connected with the traffic by heart. He saw that the points had been so set as to turn the run-away engine on to the down line, and in his mind’s eye saw a monster excursion train, which had started just a few minutes before, labouring slowly forward, which the light engine would soon overtake. A collision in a few minutes would be certain. In peculiar circumstances men are bound to break through all rules and regulations, and act in a peculiar way. Without a moment’s hesitation he ran to John Marrot and said in an earnest hurried voice—“Give chase, John! cross over to the up-line, but don’t go too far.”“All right, sir,” said John, laying his hand on the regulator.Even while the superintendent was speaking Will Garvie’s swift mind had appreciated the idea. He had leaped down and uncoupled theLightningfrom its train. John touched the whistle, let on steam and off they went crossed to the up-line (which was the wrong line of rails for any engine to run inthatdirection), and away he went at forty, fifty, seventy miles an hour! John knew well that he was flying towards a passenger-train, which was running towards him at probably thirty-five or forty miles an hour. He was aware of its whereabouts at that time, for he consulted his watch and had the time-table by heart. A collision with it would involve the accumulated momentum of more than a hundred miles an hour! The time was short, but it was sufficient; he therefore urged Will to coal the furnace until it glowed with fervent heat and opened the steam valve to the uttermost. Never since John Marrot had driven it had theLightningso nearly resembled its namesake. The pace was increased to seventy-five and eighty miles an hour. It was awful. Objects flew past with flashing speed. The clatter of the engine was deafening. A stern chase is proverbially a long one; but in this case, at such a speed, it was short. In less than fifteen minutes John came in view of the fugitive—also going at full speed, but, not being so powerful an engine and not being properly managed as to the fire, it did not go so fast; its pace might have been forty or forty-five miles an hour.“Will,” shouted John in the ear of his stalwart fireman, “you’ll have to be sharp about it. It won’t do, lad, to jump into the arms of a madman with a fire-shovel in his hand. W’en I takes a shot at ’im with a lump of coal, then’s yer chance—go in an’ win, lad—and, whatever—ye do, keep cool.”Will did not open his compressed lips, but nodded his head in reply.“You’ll have to do it all alone, Bill; I can’t leave the engine,” shouted John.He looked anxiously into his mate’s face, and felt relieved to observe a little smile curl slightly the corners of his mouth.Another moment and theLightningwas up with the tender of the run-away, and John cut off steam for a brief space to equalise the speed. Thomson at that instant observed for the first time that he was pursued. He looked back with a horrible glare, and then, uttering a fierce cheer or yell, tugged at the steam handle to increase the speed, but it was open to the utmost. He attempted to heap coals on the fire, but being inexpert, failed to increase the heat. Another second and they were abreast John Marrot opened the whistle and let it blow continuously, for he was by that time drawing fearfully near to the train that he knew was approaching.Seeing that escape was impossible, Thomson would have thrown the engine off the rails if that had been possible, but, as it was not, he brandished the fire-shovel and stood at the opening between the engine and tender, with an expression of fiendish rage on his countenance that words cannot describe.“Now, Bill, look out!” said John.Will stood like a tiger ready to spring. John beside him, with a huge mass of coal in one hand concealed behind his back. There was a space of little more than two feet between the engines. To leap that in the face of a madman seemed impossible.Suddenly John Marrot hurled the mass of coal with all his might. His aim was to hit Thomson on the head, but it struck low, hitting him on the chest, and driving him down on the foot-plate. At the same instant Will Garvie bounded across and shut off the steam in an instant. He turned then to the brake-wheel, but, before he could apply it, Thomson had risen and grappled with him. Still, as the two strong men swayed to and fro in a deadly conflict, Will’s hand, that chanced at the moment to be nearest the brake-wheel, was seen ever and anon to give it a slight turn.Thus much John Marrot observed when he saw a puff of white steam on the horizon far ahead of him. To reverse the engine and turn full steam on was the work of two seconds. Fire flew in showers from the wheels, and the engine trembled with the violent friction, nevertheless it still ran on for a considerable way, and the approaching train was within a comparatively short distance of him before he had got theLightningto run backwards. It was not until he had got up speed to nigh forty miles an hour that he felt safe, looked back with a grim smile and breathed freely. Of course the driver of the passenger-train, seeing an engine on the wrong line ahead, had also reversed at full speed and thus prevented a collision, which would inevitably have been very disastrous.John now ran back to the crossing, and, getting once more on the down line, again reversed his engine and ran cautiously back in the direction of the run-away locomotive. He soon came in sight of it, reversed again, and went at such a pace as allowed it to overtake him gradually. He saw that the steam was still cut off, and that it had advanced that length in consequence of being on an incline, but was somewhat alarmed to receive no signal from his mate. The moment the buffers of theLightningtouched those of the other engine’s tender he applied the brakes and brought both engines to a stand. Then, leaping off, he ran to see how it had fared with Will Garvie.The scene that met his eyes was a very ghastly one. On the floor-plate lay the two men, insensible and covered with blood and coal-dust. Each grasped the other by the throat but Will had gained an advantage from having no neckcloth on, while his own strong hand was twisted into that of his adversary so firmly, that the madman’s eyes were almost starting out of their sockets. John Marrot at once cut the ’kerchief with his clasp-knife, and then, feeling that there was urgent need for haste, left them lying there, ran back to his own engine, coupled it to the other, turned on full steam, and, in a short space of time, ran into Clatterby station.Here the men were at once removed to the waiting-room, and a doctor—who chanced to be Dr Noble—was called in. It was found that although much bruised and cut as well as exhausted by their conflict, neither Will nor Thomson were seriously injured. After a few restoratives had been applied, the former was conveyed home in a cab, while the latter, under the charge of Mr Sharp and one of his men, was carried off and safely lodged in an asylum.

Being, as we have had occasion to remark before, a communicative and confiding little woman, Netta Tipps told the secret of the ring in strict confidence to her old nurse. Mrs Durby, in a weak moment as on a former occasion, related the history of it to Gertie, who of course told Loo. She naturally mentioned it to her lover, Will Garvie, and he conveyed the information to John Marrot. Thus far, but no further, the thing went, for John felt that there might be danger in spreading the matter, and laid a strict injunction on all who knew of it to keep silence for a time.

While at the station the day following, just after having brought in the “Flying Dutchman,” he was accosted by the superintendent of police, who chanced to be lounging there with, apparently, nothing to do. Never was there a man who was more frequently called on to belie his true character. It was a part of Mr Sharp’s duty to look lazy at times, and even stupid, so as to throw suspicious men off their guard.

“A fine day, John,” he said, lounging up to the engine where John was leaning on the rail, contemplating the departure of the passengers whose lives had been in his hands for the last hour and a half, while Will Garvie was oiling some of the joints of the iron horse.

John admitted that it was a fine day, and asked what was the noos.

“Nothing particular doing just now,” said Mr Sharp. “You’ve heard, I suppose, of the mad fellow who caused such a confusion among Miss Tipps’s Sunday-school children last night?”

“Oh yes, I heard o’ that.”

“And did you hear that he turns out to be the man who jumped out of your train on the day of the attempted robbery?”

“Yes, I’ve heard o’ that too. They haven’t got him yet, I believe?”

“No, not yet; but I think we shall have him soon,” said Mr Sharp with a knowing glance; “I’ve heard rumours that lead me to think it would not be very surprising if we were to see him hanging about this station to-day or to-morrow. I’ve got a sort of decoy-duck to attract him,” continued Mr Sharp, chuckling, “in the shape of a retired East India doctor, who agrees to hang about on the condition that we keep a sharp eye on him and guard him well from any sudden attack.”

“You don’t meanthat?” said the engine-driver in an earnest undertone.

Instead of replying, the superintendent suddenly left him and sauntered leisurely along the platform, with his eyes cast down and softly humming a popular air.

The act was so brusque and unlike Mr Sharp’s naturally polite character that John knew at once, as he said, that “something was up,” and looked earnestly along the platform, where he saw Thomson himself walking smartly about as if in search of some one. He carried a heavy-headed stick in his hand and looked excited; but not much more so than an anxious or late passenger might be.

Mr Sharp went straight towards the madman—still sauntering with his head down, however; and John Marrot could see that another man, whom he knew to be a detective, was walking round by the side of the platform, with the evident intention of taking him in rear. The moment Thomson set eyes on the superintendent he recognised him, and apparently divined his object in approaching, for he started, clenched his teeth, and grasped his stick. Mr Sharp instantly abandoned all attempt at concealment and ran straight at him. Thomson, probably deeming discretion the better part of valour, turned and fled. He almost ran into the arms of the detective, who now made sure of him, but he doubled like a hare and sprang off the platform on to the rails. Here one or two of the men who were engaged in washing or otherwise looking after empty carriages, seeing what was going on, at once sought to intercept the madman, but he evaded two or three, knocked down another, and, finding himself alongside of a detached engine which stood there with steam up ready to be coupled to its train, he leaped upon it, felled the driver who was outside the rail, oiling some of the machinery, seized the handle of the regulator and turned on full steam.

The driving-wheels revolved at first with such tremendous rapidity that they failed to “bite” and merely slipped on the rails. Thomson was engineer enough to understand why, and at once cut off part of the steam. Next moment he shot out of the station, and, again letting on full steam, rushed along the line like an arrow!

It chanced that the passenger-superintendent was on the platform at the time. That gentleman had everything connected with the traffic by heart. He saw that the points had been so set as to turn the run-away engine on to the down line, and in his mind’s eye saw a monster excursion train, which had started just a few minutes before, labouring slowly forward, which the light engine would soon overtake. A collision in a few minutes would be certain. In peculiar circumstances men are bound to break through all rules and regulations, and act in a peculiar way. Without a moment’s hesitation he ran to John Marrot and said in an earnest hurried voice—

“Give chase, John! cross over to the up-line, but don’t go too far.”

“All right, sir,” said John, laying his hand on the regulator.

Even while the superintendent was speaking Will Garvie’s swift mind had appreciated the idea. He had leaped down and uncoupled theLightningfrom its train. John touched the whistle, let on steam and off they went crossed to the up-line (which was the wrong line of rails for any engine to run inthatdirection), and away he went at forty, fifty, seventy miles an hour! John knew well that he was flying towards a passenger-train, which was running towards him at probably thirty-five or forty miles an hour. He was aware of its whereabouts at that time, for he consulted his watch and had the time-table by heart. A collision with it would involve the accumulated momentum of more than a hundred miles an hour! The time was short, but it was sufficient; he therefore urged Will to coal the furnace until it glowed with fervent heat and opened the steam valve to the uttermost. Never since John Marrot had driven it had theLightningso nearly resembled its namesake. The pace was increased to seventy-five and eighty miles an hour. It was awful. Objects flew past with flashing speed. The clatter of the engine was deafening. A stern chase is proverbially a long one; but in this case, at such a speed, it was short. In less than fifteen minutes John came in view of the fugitive—also going at full speed, but, not being so powerful an engine and not being properly managed as to the fire, it did not go so fast; its pace might have been forty or forty-five miles an hour.

“Will,” shouted John in the ear of his stalwart fireman, “you’ll have to be sharp about it. It won’t do, lad, to jump into the arms of a madman with a fire-shovel in his hand. W’en I takes a shot at ’im with a lump of coal, then’s yer chance—go in an’ win, lad—and, whatever—ye do, keep cool.”

Will did not open his compressed lips, but nodded his head in reply.

“You’ll have to do it all alone, Bill; I can’t leave the engine,” shouted John.

He looked anxiously into his mate’s face, and felt relieved to observe a little smile curl slightly the corners of his mouth.

Another moment and theLightningwas up with the tender of the run-away, and John cut off steam for a brief space to equalise the speed. Thomson at that instant observed for the first time that he was pursued. He looked back with a horrible glare, and then, uttering a fierce cheer or yell, tugged at the steam handle to increase the speed, but it was open to the utmost. He attempted to heap coals on the fire, but being inexpert, failed to increase the heat. Another second and they were abreast John Marrot opened the whistle and let it blow continuously, for he was by that time drawing fearfully near to the train that he knew was approaching.

Seeing that escape was impossible, Thomson would have thrown the engine off the rails if that had been possible, but, as it was not, he brandished the fire-shovel and stood at the opening between the engine and tender, with an expression of fiendish rage on his countenance that words cannot describe.

“Now, Bill, look out!” said John.

Will stood like a tiger ready to spring. John beside him, with a huge mass of coal in one hand concealed behind his back. There was a space of little more than two feet between the engines. To leap that in the face of a madman seemed impossible.

Suddenly John Marrot hurled the mass of coal with all his might. His aim was to hit Thomson on the head, but it struck low, hitting him on the chest, and driving him down on the foot-plate. At the same instant Will Garvie bounded across and shut off the steam in an instant. He turned then to the brake-wheel, but, before he could apply it, Thomson had risen and grappled with him. Still, as the two strong men swayed to and fro in a deadly conflict, Will’s hand, that chanced at the moment to be nearest the brake-wheel, was seen ever and anon to give it a slight turn.

Thus much John Marrot observed when he saw a puff of white steam on the horizon far ahead of him. To reverse the engine and turn full steam on was the work of two seconds. Fire flew in showers from the wheels, and the engine trembled with the violent friction, nevertheless it still ran on for a considerable way, and the approaching train was within a comparatively short distance of him before he had got theLightningto run backwards. It was not until he had got up speed to nigh forty miles an hour that he felt safe, looked back with a grim smile and breathed freely. Of course the driver of the passenger-train, seeing an engine on the wrong line ahead, had also reversed at full speed and thus prevented a collision, which would inevitably have been very disastrous.

John now ran back to the crossing, and, getting once more on the down line, again reversed his engine and ran cautiously back in the direction of the run-away locomotive. He soon came in sight of it, reversed again, and went at such a pace as allowed it to overtake him gradually. He saw that the steam was still cut off, and that it had advanced that length in consequence of being on an incline, but was somewhat alarmed to receive no signal from his mate. The moment the buffers of theLightningtouched those of the other engine’s tender he applied the brakes and brought both engines to a stand. Then, leaping off, he ran to see how it had fared with Will Garvie.

The scene that met his eyes was a very ghastly one. On the floor-plate lay the two men, insensible and covered with blood and coal-dust. Each grasped the other by the throat but Will had gained an advantage from having no neckcloth on, while his own strong hand was twisted into that of his adversary so firmly, that the madman’s eyes were almost starting out of their sockets. John Marrot at once cut the ’kerchief with his clasp-knife, and then, feeling that there was urgent need for haste, left them lying there, ran back to his own engine, coupled it to the other, turned on full steam, and, in a short space of time, ran into Clatterby station.

Here the men were at once removed to the waiting-room, and a doctor—who chanced to be Dr Noble—was called in. It was found that although much bruised and cut as well as exhausted by their conflict, neither Will nor Thomson were seriously injured. After a few restoratives had been applied, the former was conveyed home in a cab, while the latter, under the charge of Mr Sharp and one of his men, was carried off and safely lodged in an asylum.

Chapter Twenty.A Nest “Harried.”Having thus seen one criminal disposed of, Mr Sharp returned to his office to take measures for the arrest of a few more of the same class.Since we last met with our superintendent, he had not led an idle life by any means. A brief reference to some of his recent doings will be an appropriate introduction to the little entertainment which he had provided for himself and his men on that particular evening.One day he had been informed that wine and spirits had been disappearing unaccountably at a particular station. He visited the place with one of his men, spent the night under a tarpaulin in a goods-shed, and found that one of the plate-layers was in the habit of drawing off spirits with a syphon. The guilty man was handed over to justice, and honest men, who had felt uneasy lest they should be suspected, were relieved.On another occasion he was sent to investigate a claim made by a man who was in the accident at Langrye Station. This man, who was an auctioneer, had not been hurt at all—only a little skin taken off his nose,—but our fop with the check trousers advised him to make a job of it, and said that he himself and his friend had intended to make a claim, only they had another and more important game in hand, which rendered it advisable for them to keep quiet. This was just before the attack made on Mr Lee in the train between Clatterby and London. The auctioneer had not thought of such a way of raising money, but jumped readily at the idea; went to Glasgow and Dundee, where he consulted doctors—showed them his broken nose, coughed harshly in their ears, complained of nervous affections, pains in the back, loins, and head, and, pricking his gums slightly, spit blood for their edification; spoke of internal injuries, and shook his head lugubriously. Doctors, unlike lawyers, are not constantly on the watch for impostors. The man’s peeled and swelled nose was an obvious fact; his other ailments might, or might not, be serious, so they prescribed, condoled with him, charged him nothing, and dismissed him with a hope of speedy cure. Thereafter the auctioneer went down the Clyde to recruit his injured health, and did a little in the way of business, just to keep up his spirits, poor fellow! After that he visited Aberdeen for similar purposes, and then sent in a claim of 150 pounds damages against the Grand National Trunk Railway.Mr Sharp’s first proceeding was to visit the doctors to whom the auctioneer had applied, then he visited the various watering-places whither the man had gone to recruit and ascertained every particular regarding his proceedings. Finally, he went to the north of Scotland to see the interesting invalid himself. He saw and heard him, first, in an auction-room, where he went through a hard day’s work even for a healthy man; then he visited him in his hotel and found him, the picture of ruddy health, drinking whisky punch. On stating that he was an agent of the railway company, and had called to have some conversation regarding his claim, some of the auctioneer’s ruddy colour fled, but being a bold man, he assumed a candid air and willingly answered all questions; admitted that he was better, but said that he had lost much time; had for a long period been unable to attend to his professional duties, and still suffered much from internal injuries. Mr Sharp expressed sympathy with him; said that the case, as he put it, was indeed a hard one, and begged of him to put his statement of it down on paper. The auctioneer complied, and thought Mr Sharp a rather benignant railway official. When he had signed his name to the paper, his visitor took it up and said, “Now, Mr Blank, this is all lies from beginning to end. I have traced your history step by step, down to the present time, visited all the places you have been to, conversed with the waiters of the hotels where you put up, have heard you to-day go through as good a day’s work as any strong man could desire to do, and have seen you finish up with a stiff glass of whisky toddy, which I am very sorry to have interrupted. Now, sir, this is very like an effort to obtain money under false pretences, and, if you don’t know what that leads to, you are in a very fair way to find out. The Company which I have the honour to represent, however, is generous. We know that you were in the Langrye accident, for I saw you there, and in consideration of the injury to your nerves and the damage to your proboscis, we are willing to give you a five-pound note as a sort of sticking-plaster at once to your nose and your feelings. If you accept that, good; if not you shall take the consequences ofthis!” The superintendent here held up the written statement playfully, and placed it in his pocket-book. The auctioneer was a wise, if not an honest, man. He thankfully accepted the five pounds, and invited Mr Sharp to join him in a tumbler, which, however, the superintendent politely declined.But this was a small matter compared with another case which Mr Sharp had just been engaged investigating. It was as follows:—One afternoon a slight accident occurred on the line by which several passengers received trifling injuries. At the time only two people made claim for compensation, one for a few shillings, the other for a few pounds. These cases were at once investigated and settled, and it was thought that there the matter ended. Six months afterwards, however, the company received a letter from the solicitors of a gentleman whose hat it was said, had been driven down on the bridge of his nose, and had abraded the skin; the slight wound had turned into an ulcer, which ultimately assumed the form of permanent cancer. In consequence of this the gentleman had consulted one doctor in Paris and another in Rome, and had been obliged to undergo an operation—for all of which he claimed compensation to the extent of 5000 pounds. The company being quite unable to tell whether this gentleman was in the accident referred to or not, an investigation was set on foot, in which Mr Sharp bore his part. At great expense official persons were sent to Paris and to Rome to see the doctors said to have been consulted, and in the end—nearly two years after the accident—the Company was found liable for the 5000 pounds!While we are on this subject of compensation, it may not be uninteresting to relate a few curious cases, which will give some idea of the manner in which railway companies are squeezed for damages—sometimes unjustly, and too often fraudulently. On one occasion, a man who said he had been in an accident on one of our large railways, claimed 1000 pounds. In this case the company was fortunately able to prove a conspiracy to defraud, and thus escaped; but in many instances the companies are defeated in fraudulent claims, and there is no redress. The feelings of the juries who try the cases are worked on; patients are brought into Court exhibiting every symptom of hopeless malady, but these same patients not unfrequently possess quite miraculous powers of swift recovery, from what had been styled “incurable damage.” One man received 6000 pounds on the supposition that he had been permanently disabled, and within a short period he was attending to his business as well as ever. A youth with a salary of 60 pounds a year claimed and got 1200 pounds on the ground of incurable injury—in other words he was pensioned for life to the extent of 60 pounds a year—and, a year afterwards, it was ascertained that he was “dancing at balls,” and had joined his father in business as if there was nothing the matter with him.A barmaid who, it was said, received “injuries to the spine of a permanent character,” was paid a sum of 1000 pounds as—we were about to write—compensation, butconsolationwould be the more appropriate term, seeing that she had little or nothing to be compensated for, as she was found capable of “dancing at the Licensed Victuallers’ Ball” soon after the accident and eventually she married! To oblige railways to compensate for loss of time, or property, or health,to a limited extent, seems reasonable, but to compel them to pension off people who have suffered little or nothing, with snug little annuities of 50 pounds or 60 pounds, does really seem to be a little too hard; at least so it appears to be in the eyes of one who happens to have no interest whatever in railways, save that general interest in their immense value to the land, and their inestimable comforts in the matter of locomotion.The whole subject of compensation stands at present on a false footing. For the comfort of those who wish well to railways, and love justice, we may add in conclusion, that proposals as to modifications have already been mooted and brought before Government, so that in all probability, ere long, impostors will receive a snubbing, and shareholders will receive increased dividends!But let us return to Mr Sharp. Having, as we have said, gone to his office, he found his faithful servant Blunt there.“Why, Blunt,” he said, sitting down at the table and tearing open a few letters that awaited him, “what a good-lookingporteryou make!”“So my wife says, sir,” replied Blunt with a perfectly grave face, but with a twinkle in his eye.“She must be a discriminating woman, Blunt. Well, what news have you to-night? You seemed to think you had found out the thieves at Gorton Station the last time we met.”“So I have, sir, and there are more implicated than we had expected. The place is a perfect nest of them.”“Not an uncommon state of things,” observed Mr Sharp, “for it is well-known that one black sheep spoils a flock. We must weed them all out, Blunt, and get our garden into as tidy a condition as possible; it is beginning to do us credit already, but that Gorton Station has remained too long in a bad state; we must harrow it up a little. Well, let’s hear what you have found out. They never suspected you, I suppose?”“Never had the least suspicion,” replied Blunt with a slight approach to a smile. “I’ve lived with ’em, now, for a considerable time, and the general opinion of ’em about me is that I’m a decent enough fellow, but too slow and stupid to be trusted, so they have not, up to this time, thought me worthy of being made a confidant. However, that didn’t matter much, ’cause I managed to get round one o’ their wives at last, and she let out the whole affair—in strict confidence, of course, and as a dead secret!“In fact I have just come from a long and interesting conversation with her. She told me that all the men at the station, with one or two exceptions, were engaged in it, and showed me two of the missing bales of cloth—the cloth, you remember, sir, of which there was such a large quantity stolen four weeks ago, and for which the company has had to pay. I find that the chief signalman, Davis, is as bad as the rest. It was his wife that gave me the information in a moment of over-confidence.”“Indeed!” exclaimed Sharp, in some surprise; “and what of Sam Natly and Garvie?”“They’re both of ’em innocent, sir,” said Blunt. “I did suspect ’em at one time, but I have seen and heard enough to convince me that they have no hand in the business. Natly has been goin’ about the station a good deal of late, because the wife of one of the men is a friend of his wife, and used to go up to nurse her sometimes when she was ill. As to Garvie, of course he knows as well as everybody else that some of the men there must be thieves, else goods would not disappear from that station as they do, buthisfrequent visits there are for the purpose of reclaiming Davis, who, it seems, is an old playmate of his.”“Reclaiming Davis!” exclaimed Sharp.“Yes, an’ it’s my opinion that it’ll take a cleverer fellow than him to reclaim Davis, for he’s one of the worst of the lot; but Garvie is real earnest. I chanced to get behind a hedge one day when they were together, and overheard ’em talkin’ about these robberies and other matters, and you would have thought, sir, that the fireman was a regular divine. He could quote Scripture quite in a stunnin’ way, sir; an’didseem badly cut up when his friend told him that it was of no use talkin’, for it was too late forhimto mend.”“Has Garvie, then, been aware all this time that Davis is one of the thieves, and kept it secret?” asked Sharp.“No, sir,” replied Blunt. “Davis denied that he had any hand in the robberies when Garvie asked him. It was about drink that he was pleadin’ with him so hard. You know we have suspected him of that too, of late; but from what I heard he must be a regular toper. Garvie was tryin’ to persuade him to become a total abstainer. Says he to him, ‘You know, Davis, that whatever may be true as to the general question of abstaining from strong drink,youronly chance of bein’ delivered lies in total abstinence, because the thing has become adisease. I know and believe that Christianity would save you from the power of drink, but, depend upon it, that it would do so in the way of inducin’ you of your own free will to “touch not, taste not, handle not, that which”you“will perish by the using.”’ Seems to me as if there was something in that, sir?” said Blunt, inquiringly.Sharp nodded assent.“Then Garvie does not suspect him of being connected with the robberies?” he asked.“No,” replied Blunt; “but he’s a deep file is Davis, and could throw a sharper man than Garvie off the scent.”After a little further conversation on the subject Mr Sharp dismissed the pretended porter to his station, and called upon the superintendent of the police force of Clatterby, from whom he received an addition to his force of men.That night he led his men to Gorton station, and when he thought a suitable hour had arrived, he caused them to surround the block of buildings in which the men of the station resided. Then, placing Blunt and two or three men in front of Davis’s house, he went up to the door alone and knocked.Mrs Davis opened it. She gave the least possible start on observing by the light of her lobby lamp who her visitor was—for she knew him well. Mr Sharp took note of the start!“Good-evening, Mrs Davis,” he said.“Good-evening, sir; this is an unexpected pleasure, Mr Sharp.”“Most of my visits are unexpected, Mrs Davis, but it is only my friends who count them a pleasure. Is your husband within?”“He is, sir; pray, walk this way; I’m sure he will be delighted to see you. Can you stay to supper with us? we are just going to have it.”“No, thank you, Mrs Davis, I’m out on duty to-night,” said Sharp, entering the parlour, where Davis was engaged in reading the newspaper. “Good-evening, Mr Davis.”Davis rose with a start. Mr Sharp took note of that also.“Good-evening, Mr Sharp,” he said; “sit down, sir; sit down.”“Thank you, I can’t sit down. I’m on duty just now. The fact is, Mr Davis, that I am come to make a search among your men, for we have obtained reliable information as to who are the thieves at this station. As, no doubt,someof the men are honest, and might feel hurt at having their houses searched, I have thought that the best way to prevent any unpleasant feeling is to begin at the top of the free and go downwards. They can’t say that I have made fish of one and flesh of another, if I begin, as a mere matter of form, Mr Davis, with yourself.”“Oh, certainly—certainly, Mr Sharp, by all means,” replied Davis.He spoke with an air of candour, but it was quite evident that he was ill at ease.Calling in one of his men, Mr Sharp began a rigorous search of the house forthwith. Mr Davis suggested that he would go out and see that the men were in their residences; but Mr Sharp said that there was no occasion for that, and that he would be obliged by his remaining and assisting in the search of his own house.Every hole and corner of the ground-floor was examined without any discovery being made. Mrs Davis, observing that her visitors were particular in collecting every shred of cloth that came in their way, suddenly asked if it was cloth they were in search of. Mr Sharp thought the question and the tone in which it was put told of a guilty conscience, but he replied that he was in search of many things—cloth included.Immediately after, and while they were busy with a dark closet, Mrs Davis slipped quietly out of the room. Mr Sharp was stooping at the time with his back towards her, but the two back buttons of his coat must have been eyes, for he observed the movement and at once followed her, having previously ordered Mr Davis to move a heavy chest of drawers, in order to keep him employed. Taking off his shoes he went up-stairs rapidly, and seeing an open door, peeped in.There he saw a sight that would have surprised any man except a superintendent of police. Mrs Davis was engaged in throwing bales of cloth over the window with the energy of a coal-heaver and the haste of one whose house is on fire! The poor woman was not robust, yet the easy way in which she handled those bales was quite marvellous.Being a cool and patient man, Sharp allowed her to toss over five bales before interrupting her. When she was moving across the room with the sixth and last he entered. She stopped, turned pale, and dropped the bale of cloth.“You seem to be very busy to-night Mrs Davis” he observed, inquiringly; “can I assist you?”“Oh, Mr Sharp!” exclaimed Mrs Davis, covering her face with her hands.She could say no more.Mr Sharp took her gently by the arm and led her down-stairs. They reached the room below just in time to see Blunt enter, holding the ejected bales with both arms to his bosom. Blunt had happened to take his stand just underneath the window of Mrs Davis’s bedroom, and when that energetic woman tossed the bales out she pitched them straight into Blunt’s willing arms. The accommodating man waited until he had received all that appeared likely to be delivered to him, and then with a quiet chuckle bore them, as we have seen, into Davis’s parlour.“This is a bad business, Davis,” said Sharp, as he slipped a pair of manacles on his prisoner.Davis made no reply. He was very pale, but looked defiant. Mrs Davis sat down on a chair and sobbed.Leaving them in charge of Blunt, Mr Sharp then paid a visit to all the men of the place, and ere long succeeded in capturing all who had been engaged in the recent robberies, with the various proofs of their guilt—in the shape of cloth, loaves of sugar, fruit, boxes of tea, etcetera, in their apartments.It had cost Mr Sharp and his men many weary hours of waiting and investigation, but their perseverance was at length well rewarded, for the “nest” was thoroughly “harried;” the men were dismissed and variously punished, and that portion of the Grand National Trunk Railway was, for the time, most effectually purified.

Having thus seen one criminal disposed of, Mr Sharp returned to his office to take measures for the arrest of a few more of the same class.

Since we last met with our superintendent, he had not led an idle life by any means. A brief reference to some of his recent doings will be an appropriate introduction to the little entertainment which he had provided for himself and his men on that particular evening.

One day he had been informed that wine and spirits had been disappearing unaccountably at a particular station. He visited the place with one of his men, spent the night under a tarpaulin in a goods-shed, and found that one of the plate-layers was in the habit of drawing off spirits with a syphon. The guilty man was handed over to justice, and honest men, who had felt uneasy lest they should be suspected, were relieved.

On another occasion he was sent to investigate a claim made by a man who was in the accident at Langrye Station. This man, who was an auctioneer, had not been hurt at all—only a little skin taken off his nose,—but our fop with the check trousers advised him to make a job of it, and said that he himself and his friend had intended to make a claim, only they had another and more important game in hand, which rendered it advisable for them to keep quiet. This was just before the attack made on Mr Lee in the train between Clatterby and London. The auctioneer had not thought of such a way of raising money, but jumped readily at the idea; went to Glasgow and Dundee, where he consulted doctors—showed them his broken nose, coughed harshly in their ears, complained of nervous affections, pains in the back, loins, and head, and, pricking his gums slightly, spit blood for their edification; spoke of internal injuries, and shook his head lugubriously. Doctors, unlike lawyers, are not constantly on the watch for impostors. The man’s peeled and swelled nose was an obvious fact; his other ailments might, or might not, be serious, so they prescribed, condoled with him, charged him nothing, and dismissed him with a hope of speedy cure. Thereafter the auctioneer went down the Clyde to recruit his injured health, and did a little in the way of business, just to keep up his spirits, poor fellow! After that he visited Aberdeen for similar purposes, and then sent in a claim of 150 pounds damages against the Grand National Trunk Railway.

Mr Sharp’s first proceeding was to visit the doctors to whom the auctioneer had applied, then he visited the various watering-places whither the man had gone to recruit and ascertained every particular regarding his proceedings. Finally, he went to the north of Scotland to see the interesting invalid himself. He saw and heard him, first, in an auction-room, where he went through a hard day’s work even for a healthy man; then he visited him in his hotel and found him, the picture of ruddy health, drinking whisky punch. On stating that he was an agent of the railway company, and had called to have some conversation regarding his claim, some of the auctioneer’s ruddy colour fled, but being a bold man, he assumed a candid air and willingly answered all questions; admitted that he was better, but said that he had lost much time; had for a long period been unable to attend to his professional duties, and still suffered much from internal injuries. Mr Sharp expressed sympathy with him; said that the case, as he put it, was indeed a hard one, and begged of him to put his statement of it down on paper. The auctioneer complied, and thought Mr Sharp a rather benignant railway official. When he had signed his name to the paper, his visitor took it up and said, “Now, Mr Blank, this is all lies from beginning to end. I have traced your history step by step, down to the present time, visited all the places you have been to, conversed with the waiters of the hotels where you put up, have heard you to-day go through as good a day’s work as any strong man could desire to do, and have seen you finish up with a stiff glass of whisky toddy, which I am very sorry to have interrupted. Now, sir, this is very like an effort to obtain money under false pretences, and, if you don’t know what that leads to, you are in a very fair way to find out. The Company which I have the honour to represent, however, is generous. We know that you were in the Langrye accident, for I saw you there, and in consideration of the injury to your nerves and the damage to your proboscis, we are willing to give you a five-pound note as a sort of sticking-plaster at once to your nose and your feelings. If you accept that, good; if not you shall take the consequences ofthis!” The superintendent here held up the written statement playfully, and placed it in his pocket-book. The auctioneer was a wise, if not an honest, man. He thankfully accepted the five pounds, and invited Mr Sharp to join him in a tumbler, which, however, the superintendent politely declined.

But this was a small matter compared with another case which Mr Sharp had just been engaged investigating. It was as follows:—

One afternoon a slight accident occurred on the line by which several passengers received trifling injuries. At the time only two people made claim for compensation, one for a few shillings, the other for a few pounds. These cases were at once investigated and settled, and it was thought that there the matter ended. Six months afterwards, however, the company received a letter from the solicitors of a gentleman whose hat it was said, had been driven down on the bridge of his nose, and had abraded the skin; the slight wound had turned into an ulcer, which ultimately assumed the form of permanent cancer. In consequence of this the gentleman had consulted one doctor in Paris and another in Rome, and had been obliged to undergo an operation—for all of which he claimed compensation to the extent of 5000 pounds. The company being quite unable to tell whether this gentleman was in the accident referred to or not, an investigation was set on foot, in which Mr Sharp bore his part. At great expense official persons were sent to Paris and to Rome to see the doctors said to have been consulted, and in the end—nearly two years after the accident—the Company was found liable for the 5000 pounds!

While we are on this subject of compensation, it may not be uninteresting to relate a few curious cases, which will give some idea of the manner in which railway companies are squeezed for damages—sometimes unjustly, and too often fraudulently. On one occasion, a man who said he had been in an accident on one of our large railways, claimed 1000 pounds. In this case the company was fortunately able to prove a conspiracy to defraud, and thus escaped; but in many instances the companies are defeated in fraudulent claims, and there is no redress. The feelings of the juries who try the cases are worked on; patients are brought into Court exhibiting every symptom of hopeless malady, but these same patients not unfrequently possess quite miraculous powers of swift recovery, from what had been styled “incurable damage.” One man received 6000 pounds on the supposition that he had been permanently disabled, and within a short period he was attending to his business as well as ever. A youth with a salary of 60 pounds a year claimed and got 1200 pounds on the ground of incurable injury—in other words he was pensioned for life to the extent of 60 pounds a year—and, a year afterwards, it was ascertained that he was “dancing at balls,” and had joined his father in business as if there was nothing the matter with him.

A barmaid who, it was said, received “injuries to the spine of a permanent character,” was paid a sum of 1000 pounds as—we were about to write—compensation, butconsolationwould be the more appropriate term, seeing that she had little or nothing to be compensated for, as she was found capable of “dancing at the Licensed Victuallers’ Ball” soon after the accident and eventually she married! To oblige railways to compensate for loss of time, or property, or health,to a limited extent, seems reasonable, but to compel them to pension off people who have suffered little or nothing, with snug little annuities of 50 pounds or 60 pounds, does really seem to be a little too hard; at least so it appears to be in the eyes of one who happens to have no interest whatever in railways, save that general interest in their immense value to the land, and their inestimable comforts in the matter of locomotion.

The whole subject of compensation stands at present on a false footing. For the comfort of those who wish well to railways, and love justice, we may add in conclusion, that proposals as to modifications have already been mooted and brought before Government, so that in all probability, ere long, impostors will receive a snubbing, and shareholders will receive increased dividends!

But let us return to Mr Sharp. Having, as we have said, gone to his office, he found his faithful servant Blunt there.

“Why, Blunt,” he said, sitting down at the table and tearing open a few letters that awaited him, “what a good-lookingporteryou make!”

“So my wife says, sir,” replied Blunt with a perfectly grave face, but with a twinkle in his eye.

“She must be a discriminating woman, Blunt. Well, what news have you to-night? You seemed to think you had found out the thieves at Gorton Station the last time we met.”

“So I have, sir, and there are more implicated than we had expected. The place is a perfect nest of them.”

“Not an uncommon state of things,” observed Mr Sharp, “for it is well-known that one black sheep spoils a flock. We must weed them all out, Blunt, and get our garden into as tidy a condition as possible; it is beginning to do us credit already, but that Gorton Station has remained too long in a bad state; we must harrow it up a little. Well, let’s hear what you have found out. They never suspected you, I suppose?”

“Never had the least suspicion,” replied Blunt with a slight approach to a smile. “I’ve lived with ’em, now, for a considerable time, and the general opinion of ’em about me is that I’m a decent enough fellow, but too slow and stupid to be trusted, so they have not, up to this time, thought me worthy of being made a confidant. However, that didn’t matter much, ’cause I managed to get round one o’ their wives at last, and she let out the whole affair—in strict confidence, of course, and as a dead secret!

“In fact I have just come from a long and interesting conversation with her. She told me that all the men at the station, with one or two exceptions, were engaged in it, and showed me two of the missing bales of cloth—the cloth, you remember, sir, of which there was such a large quantity stolen four weeks ago, and for which the company has had to pay. I find that the chief signalman, Davis, is as bad as the rest. It was his wife that gave me the information in a moment of over-confidence.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Sharp, in some surprise; “and what of Sam Natly and Garvie?”

“They’re both of ’em innocent, sir,” said Blunt. “I did suspect ’em at one time, but I have seen and heard enough to convince me that they have no hand in the business. Natly has been goin’ about the station a good deal of late, because the wife of one of the men is a friend of his wife, and used to go up to nurse her sometimes when she was ill. As to Garvie, of course he knows as well as everybody else that some of the men there must be thieves, else goods would not disappear from that station as they do, buthisfrequent visits there are for the purpose of reclaiming Davis, who, it seems, is an old playmate of his.”

“Reclaiming Davis!” exclaimed Sharp.

“Yes, an’ it’s my opinion that it’ll take a cleverer fellow than him to reclaim Davis, for he’s one of the worst of the lot; but Garvie is real earnest. I chanced to get behind a hedge one day when they were together, and overheard ’em talkin’ about these robberies and other matters, and you would have thought, sir, that the fireman was a regular divine. He could quote Scripture quite in a stunnin’ way, sir; an’didseem badly cut up when his friend told him that it was of no use talkin’, for it was too late forhimto mend.”

“Has Garvie, then, been aware all this time that Davis is one of the thieves, and kept it secret?” asked Sharp.

“No, sir,” replied Blunt. “Davis denied that he had any hand in the robberies when Garvie asked him. It was about drink that he was pleadin’ with him so hard. You know we have suspected him of that too, of late; but from what I heard he must be a regular toper. Garvie was tryin’ to persuade him to become a total abstainer. Says he to him, ‘You know, Davis, that whatever may be true as to the general question of abstaining from strong drink,youronly chance of bein’ delivered lies in total abstinence, because the thing has become adisease. I know and believe that Christianity would save you from the power of drink, but, depend upon it, that it would do so in the way of inducin’ you of your own free will to “touch not, taste not, handle not, that which”you“will perish by the using.”’ Seems to me as if there was something in that, sir?” said Blunt, inquiringly.

Sharp nodded assent.

“Then Garvie does not suspect him of being connected with the robberies?” he asked.

“No,” replied Blunt; “but he’s a deep file is Davis, and could throw a sharper man than Garvie off the scent.”

After a little further conversation on the subject Mr Sharp dismissed the pretended porter to his station, and called upon the superintendent of the police force of Clatterby, from whom he received an addition to his force of men.

That night he led his men to Gorton station, and when he thought a suitable hour had arrived, he caused them to surround the block of buildings in which the men of the station resided. Then, placing Blunt and two or three men in front of Davis’s house, he went up to the door alone and knocked.

Mrs Davis opened it. She gave the least possible start on observing by the light of her lobby lamp who her visitor was—for she knew him well. Mr Sharp took note of the start!

“Good-evening, Mrs Davis,” he said.

“Good-evening, sir; this is an unexpected pleasure, Mr Sharp.”

“Most of my visits are unexpected, Mrs Davis, but it is only my friends who count them a pleasure. Is your husband within?”

“He is, sir; pray, walk this way; I’m sure he will be delighted to see you. Can you stay to supper with us? we are just going to have it.”

“No, thank you, Mrs Davis, I’m out on duty to-night,” said Sharp, entering the parlour, where Davis was engaged in reading the newspaper. “Good-evening, Mr Davis.”

Davis rose with a start. Mr Sharp took note of that also.

“Good-evening, Mr Sharp,” he said; “sit down, sir; sit down.”

“Thank you, I can’t sit down. I’m on duty just now. The fact is, Mr Davis, that I am come to make a search among your men, for we have obtained reliable information as to who are the thieves at this station. As, no doubt,someof the men are honest, and might feel hurt at having their houses searched, I have thought that the best way to prevent any unpleasant feeling is to begin at the top of the free and go downwards. They can’t say that I have made fish of one and flesh of another, if I begin, as a mere matter of form, Mr Davis, with yourself.”

“Oh, certainly—certainly, Mr Sharp, by all means,” replied Davis.

He spoke with an air of candour, but it was quite evident that he was ill at ease.

Calling in one of his men, Mr Sharp began a rigorous search of the house forthwith. Mr Davis suggested that he would go out and see that the men were in their residences; but Mr Sharp said that there was no occasion for that, and that he would be obliged by his remaining and assisting in the search of his own house.

Every hole and corner of the ground-floor was examined without any discovery being made. Mrs Davis, observing that her visitors were particular in collecting every shred of cloth that came in their way, suddenly asked if it was cloth they were in search of. Mr Sharp thought the question and the tone in which it was put told of a guilty conscience, but he replied that he was in search of many things—cloth included.

Immediately after, and while they were busy with a dark closet, Mrs Davis slipped quietly out of the room. Mr Sharp was stooping at the time with his back towards her, but the two back buttons of his coat must have been eyes, for he observed the movement and at once followed her, having previously ordered Mr Davis to move a heavy chest of drawers, in order to keep him employed. Taking off his shoes he went up-stairs rapidly, and seeing an open door, peeped in.

There he saw a sight that would have surprised any man except a superintendent of police. Mrs Davis was engaged in throwing bales of cloth over the window with the energy of a coal-heaver and the haste of one whose house is on fire! The poor woman was not robust, yet the easy way in which she handled those bales was quite marvellous.

Being a cool and patient man, Sharp allowed her to toss over five bales before interrupting her. When she was moving across the room with the sixth and last he entered. She stopped, turned pale, and dropped the bale of cloth.

“You seem to be very busy to-night Mrs Davis” he observed, inquiringly; “can I assist you?”

“Oh, Mr Sharp!” exclaimed Mrs Davis, covering her face with her hands.

She could say no more.

Mr Sharp took her gently by the arm and led her down-stairs. They reached the room below just in time to see Blunt enter, holding the ejected bales with both arms to his bosom. Blunt had happened to take his stand just underneath the window of Mrs Davis’s bedroom, and when that energetic woman tossed the bales out she pitched them straight into Blunt’s willing arms. The accommodating man waited until he had received all that appeared likely to be delivered to him, and then with a quiet chuckle bore them, as we have seen, into Davis’s parlour.

“This is a bad business, Davis,” said Sharp, as he slipped a pair of manacles on his prisoner.

Davis made no reply. He was very pale, but looked defiant. Mrs Davis sat down on a chair and sobbed.

Leaving them in charge of Blunt, Mr Sharp then paid a visit to all the men of the place, and ere long succeeded in capturing all who had been engaged in the recent robberies, with the various proofs of their guilt—in the shape of cloth, loaves of sugar, fruit, boxes of tea, etcetera, in their apartments.

It had cost Mr Sharp and his men many weary hours of waiting and investigation, but their perseverance was at length well rewarded, for the “nest” was thoroughly “harried;” the men were dismissed and variously punished, and that portion of the Grand National Trunk Railway was, for the time, most effectually purified.

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