After reading John Simcoe's letter, Hilda threw it down with an exclamation of contempt.
"Read it!" she said to Netta, who was alone with her.
"The letter is good enough as it stands," Netta remarked, as she finished it.
"Good enough, if coming from anyone else," Hilda said scornfully, "perhaps better than most men would write, but I think that a rogue can generally express himself better than an honest man."
"Now you are getting cynical—a new and unpleasant phase in your character, Hilda. I have heard you say that you do not like this man, but you have never given me any particular reason for it, beyond, in one of your letters, saying that it was an instinct. Now do try to give me a more palpable reason than that. At present it seems to be only a case of Dr. Fell. You don't like him because you don't."
"I don't like him because from the first I distrusted him. Personally, I had no reason to complain; on the contrary, he has been extremely civil, and indeed willing to put himself out in any way to do me small services. Then, as I told you, Walter disliked him, too, although he was always bringing chocolates and toys for him; so that the child's dislike must have been also a sort of instinct. He felt, as I did, that the man was not true and honest. He always gave me the impression of acting a part, and I have never been able to understand how a man of his class could have performed so noble and heroic an act as rushing in almost unarmed to save another, who was almost a stranger to him, from the gripof a tiger. So absolutely did I feel this that I have at times even doubted whether he could be the John Simcoe who had performed this gallant action."
"My dear Hilda, you are getting fanciful! Do you think that your uncle was likely to be deceived in such a matter, and that he would not have a vivid remembrance of his preserver, even after twenty years?"
"That depends on how much he saw of him. My uncle told me that Mr. Simcoe brought some good introductions from a friend of his at Calcutta who came out in the same ship with him. No doubt he dined at my uncle's two or three times—he may even have stayed a few days in the house—possibly more; but as commanding the district my uncle must have been fully occupied during the day, and can have seen little of him until, I suppose, a week or so after his arrival, when he invited him to join in the hunt for a tiger. Although much hurt on that occasion, Simcoe was much less injured than my uncle, who lay between life and death for some time, and Simcoe had left before he was well enough to see him. If he had dined with my uncle a few times after this affair, undoubtedly his features would have been so impressed on him that he would have recognized him, even after twenty years; but, as it was, he could have no particular interest in this gentleman, and can have entertained but a hazy recollection of his features. In fact, the General did not recognize him when he first called upon him, until he had related certain details of the affair. It had always been a sore point with my uncle that he had never had an opportunity of thanking his preserver, who had, as he believed, lost his life at sea before he himself was off his sick bed, and when he heard the man's story he was naturally anxious to welcome him with open arms, and to do all in his power for him. I admit that this man must either have been in Benares then, or shortly afterwards, for he remembered various officers who were there and little incidents of cantonment life that could, one would think, be only known to one who had been there at the time."
"But you say he was only there a week, Hilda?"
"Only a week before this tiger business; but it was a month before he was able to travel. No doubt all the officers there would make a good deal of a man who had performed such a deed, and would go and sit with him and chat to while away the hours; so that he would, in that time, pick up a great deal of the gossip of the station."
"Well, then, what is your theory, Hilda? The real man, as you say, no doubt made a great many acquaintances there; this man seems to have been behind the scenes also."
"He unquestionably knew many of the officers, for uncle told me that he recognized several men who had been out there when he met them at the club, and went up and addressed them by name."
"Did they know him also?"
"No; at first none of them had any idea who he was. But that is not surprising, for they had seen him principally when he was greatly pulled down; and believing him to be drowned, it would have been strange indeed if they had recalled his face until he had mentioned who he was."
"Well, it seems to me that you are arguing against yourself, Hilda. Everything you say points to the fact that this man is the John Simcoe he claims to be. If he is not Simcoe, who can he be?"
"Ah! There you ask a question that I cannot answer."
"In fact, Hilda, you have nothing beyond the fact that you do not like the man, and believe that he is not the sort of man to perform an heroic and self-sacrificing action, on behalf of this curious theory of yours."
"That is all at present, but I mean to set myself to work to find out more about him. If I can find out that this man is an impostor we shall recover Walter; if not, I doubt whether we shall ever hear of him again."
Netta lifted her eyebrows.
"Well, at any rate, you have plenty of time before you, Hilda."
The next morning Dr. Leeds, who had not called for the last three or four days, came in to say that he was arranging a partnership with a doctor of considerable eminence, but who was beginning to find the pressure of work too much for him, and wanted the aid of a younger and more active man.
"It is a chance in a thousand," he said. "I owe it largely to the kind manner in which both Sir Henry Havercourt and Dr. Pearson spoke to him as to my ability. You will excuse me," he went on, after Hilda had warmly congratulated him, "for talking of myself before I have asked any questions, but I know that, had you obtained any news of Walter, you would have let me know at once."
"Certainly I should; but I have some news, and really important news, to give you." And she related the production of the new will and gave him the details of its provisions.
He looked very serious.
"It is certainly an ugly outlook," he said. "I have never seen this Simcoe, but I know from the tone in which you have spoken of him, at least two or three times, that he is by no means a favorite of yours. Can you tell me anything about him?"
"Not beyond the fact that he saved the General's life from a tiger a great many years ago. Shortly after that he was supposed to be lost at sea. Certainly the vessel in which he sailed went down in a hurricane with, as was reported, all hands. He says that he was picked up clinging to a spar. Of his life for the twenty years following he has never given a very connected account, at least as far as I know; but some of the stories that I have heard him tell show that he led a very wild sort of life. Sometimes he was working in a small trader among the islands of the Pacific, and I believe he had a share in some of these enterprises. Then he claims to have been in the service of a native prince somewhere up beyondBurmah, and according to his account took quite an active part in many sanguinary wars and adventures of all sorts."
The doctor's face grew more and more serious as she proceeded.
"Do I gather, Miss Covington, that you do not believe that this man is what he claims to be?"
"Frankly that is my opinion, doctor. I own that I have no ground whatever for my disbelief, except that I have naturally studied the man closely. I have watched his lips as he spoke. When he has been talking about these adventures with savages he spoke without effort, and I have no doubt whatever that he did take part in such adventures; but when he was speaking of India, and especially when at some of the bachelor dinners uncle gave there were officers who had known him out there, it was clear to me that he did not speak with the same freedom. He weighed his words, as if afraid of making a mistake. I believe that the man was playing a part. His tone was genial and sometimes a little boisterous, as it might well be on the part of a man who had been years away from civilization; but I always thought from his manner that all this was false. I am convinced that he is a double-faced man. When he spoke I observed that he watched in a furtive sort of way the person to whom he was speaking, to see the effect of his words; but, above all, I formed my opinion upon the fact that I am absolutely convinced that this man could never have performed the splendid action of facing a wounded tiger unarmed for the sake of one who was, in fact, but a casual acquaintance."
"You will excuse me if I make no comment on what you have told me, Miss Covington. It is a matter far too serious for any man to form a hasty opinion upon. I myself have never seen this man, but I am content to take your estimate of his character. One trained, as you were for years, in the habit of closely watching faces cannot but be a far better judge of character than those who have not had such training. I will take two or threedays to think the matter over; and now will you tell me what steps you are taking at present to discover Walter?"
She told him of what was being done.
"Can you suggest anything else, Dr. Leeds?"
"Nothing. It seems to me that the key to the mystery is in the hands of this man, and that it is there it must be sought, though at present I can see no way in which the matter can be set about. When one enters into a struggle with a man like this, one must be armed at all points, prepared to meet craft with craft, and above all to have a well-marked-out plan of campaign. Now I will say good-morning. I suppose Miss Purcell and her niece will stay on with you, at any rate for a time?"
"For a long time, I hope," she said.
"May I ask if you have stated the view that you have given me to Miss Netta Purcell?"
"Yes, I have told her. She is disposed to treat it as an absurd fancy on my part, but if I can get anything to go upon which will convince her that there is even a faint possibility of my being right, she will go through fire and water to assist me."
"I can well believe that," the doctor said. "I am sure that she has a strong character, although so lively and full of fun. Of course, having been thrown with her for four months, I am able to form a very fair opinion of her disposition."
After Dr. Leeds had left, Hilda began to build castles for her friend.
"It would be a splendid thing for her," she said. "He is certainly not a man to speak in the way he did unless he thoroughly meant it. I should think that they were just suited to each other; though it would be really a pity that the scheme I had set my mind upon for getting her over here as head of an institution for teaching deaf and dumb children on Professor Menzel's plan should come to nothing. Perhaps, though, he might be willing that she should act as the head of such an establishment,getting trained assistants from those she knows in Hanover and giving a few hours a day herself to the general supervision, if only for the sake of the good that such an institution would do among, perhaps the most unfortunate of all beings. I am quite sure that, so far, she has no thought of such a thing. However, perhaps I am running on too fast, and that he only means what he said, that he admired her character. I suppose there is no reason that because a man admires a girl's character he should fall in love with her, and yet Netta is so bright and cheerful, and at the same time so kind and thoughtful, I can hardly imagine that any man, thrown with her as he has been, could help falling in love with her."
Netta was surprised when Hilda told her that Dr. Leeds had been inclined to view her theory seriously.
"Really, Hilda? Certainly he is not the sort of man to be carried away by your enthusiasm, so please consider all that I have said upon the subject as unspoken, and I will stand neutral until I hear further what he says."
"He did not say very much, I admit, Netta; but he said that he would take the matter seriously into consideration and let me know what he thinks in two or three days."
"I am afraid that he wants to let you down gently," Netta said. "Well, well, don't looked vexed! I will say no more about it until this solemn judgment is delivered."
Netta was in the room when Dr. Leeds called, two days later.
"Netta is in all my counsels, Dr. Leeds," Hilda said, "and she is, as a rule, a capital hand at keeping a secret, though she did let mine slip out to you."
There was no smile on the doctor's face, and both girls felt at once that the interview was to be a serious one.
"I am well aware that I can speak before Miss Purcell," he said, "although there are very few people before whom I would repeat what I am going to say. Ihave two questions to ask you, Miss Covington. What is the date of this last will of your uncle's?"
"It is dated the 16th of May."
"About a fortnight before the General's alarming seizure?"
Hilda bowed her head in assent. The next question took her quite by surprise.
"Do you know whether this man Simcoe was one of the party when the seizure took place?"
"He was, doctor. My uncle told me that he was going to dine with him, and Dr. Pearson mentioned to me that he was next to the General and caught him as he fell from his chair."
Dr. Leeds got up and walked up and down the room two or three minutes.
"I think that now things have come to the present pass you ought to know what was the opinion that I originally formed of General Mathieson's illness. Dr. Pearson and Sir Henry Havercourt both differed from me and treated my theory as a fanciful one, and without foundation; and of course I yielded to such superior authority, and henceforth kept my ideas to myself. Nevertheless, during the time the General was under my charge I failed altogether to find any theory or explanation for his strange attack and subsequent state, except that which I had first formed. It was a theory that a medical man is always most reluctant to declare unless he is in a position to prove it, or at least to give some very strong reason in its favor, for a mistake would not only cost him his reputation, but might involve him in litigation and ruin his career altogether. But I think that I ought to tell you what my opinion is, Miss Covington. You must not take it for more than it is worth, namely as a theory; but it may possibly set you on a new track and aid you in your endeavor to discover the missing child."
The surprise of the two girls increased as he continued, after a pause:
"Ever since the day when I was first requested to actas the General's resident medical man I have devoted a considerable time to the study of books in which, here and there, could be found accounts of the action of the herbs in use among the Obi women, fetich men, and so-called wizards on the West Coast of Africa, also in India, and among the savage tribes of the Malay Archipelago and the Pacific Islands. What drugs they use has never been discovered, although many efforts have been made to obtain a knowledge of them, both in India and on the West Coast; but doctors have found it necessary to abandon the attempt, several of them having fallen victims of the jealousy of these people because of the researches they were making. But at the least the effects of the administration of these drugs have been frequently described, and in some respects these correspond so closely to those noticeable in the General's case that I say now, as I said at first, I believe the General's illness was caused by the administration of some drug absolutely unknown to European science."
"You think that my uncle was poisoned?" Hilda exclaimed in a tone of horror, while Netta started to her feet with clenched hands and flushed face.
"I have not used the word 'poisoned,' Miss Covington, though in fact it comes to that. It may not have been administered with the intention of killing; it may have been intended only to bring on a fit, which, in due time, might have been attended by others; but the dose may have been stronger than its administrator intended."
"And you think, Dr. Leeds—you think that it was administered by——"
"No, Miss Covington; I accuse no one. I have no shadow of proof against anyone; but taking this illness, with the abduction of the child, it cannot be denied that one's suspicions must, in the first case, fall upon the man who has profited by the crime, if crime it was. On May 16 this will was drawn up, bequeathing the property to a certain person. The circumstances of the will were curious, but from what I learned from you of the explanation given by the lawyers who drew it up, itseems fair and above-board enough. The General was certainly greatly under the influence of this man, who had rendered him the greatest service one man can render another, and that at the risk of his own life. Therefore I do not consider that this will, which was, so to speak, sprung upon you, is in itself an important link in the chain. But when we find that twelve or fourteen days afterwards the General was, when at table, seized with a terrible fit of an extraordinary and mysterious nature, and that the man who had an interest in his death was sitting next to him, the coincidence is at least a strange one. When, however, the General's heir is abducted, when the General is at the point of death, the matter for the first time assumes a position of the most extreme gravity.
"At first, like you, I thought that Walter had either been stolen by some woman for the sake of his clothes, or that he had been carried off by someone aware that he was the General's heir, with a view to obtaining a large sum of money as his ransom. Such things have been done before, and will, no doubt, be done again. The first hypothesis appears to have failed altogether; no woman who had robbed a child of his clothes would desire to detain him for an hour longer than was necessary. The inquiries of the police have failed altogether; the people you have employed have ascertained that neither at the workhouses of London nor in the adjacent counties has any child at all answering to Walter's description been left by a tramp or brought in by the police or by someone who had found him wandering about. It cannot be said that the second hypothesis is also proved to be a mistaken one; the men who took him away would be obliged to exercise the greatest caution when opening negotiations for his release, and it might be a month or more before you heard from them.
"Therefore, it would be unfair to this man Simcoe to assume that he is the author of the plot until so long a period has passed that it is morally certain thatthe boy was not stolen for the purpose of blackmail. However, we have the following suspicious circumstances: first, that, as I believe, the General was drugged by some poison of whose nature we are ignorant beyond that we read of very similar cases occurring among natives races in Africa and elsewhere. Then we have the point that no one would have had any interest in the General's death, with the exception of the man he had named as his heir in the event of the child's death. We know by the man's statement that he was for many years living among tribes where poisons of this kind are used by the wizards and fetich men to support their authority and to remove persons against whom they have a grudge. Lastly, we have the crowning fact of the abduction of the child, who stood between this man and the estates. All this is at best mere circumstantial evidence. We do not know for certain what caused the General's fit, we have no proof that Simcoe had any hand in the abduction, and whatever our opinion may be, it is absolutely necessary that we do not breathe a hint to anyone."
Hilda did not speak; the shock and the horror of the matter were too much for her. She sat with open lips and blanched face, looking at Dr. Leeds. Netta, however, leaped to her feet again.
"It must be so, Dr. Leeds. It does not seem to me that there can be a shadow of doubt in the matter, and anything that I can do to bring the truth to light I will do, however long a time it takes me."
"Thank you, Netta," Hilda said, holding out her hand to her friend; "as for me, I will devote my life to clearing up this mystery."
"I am afraid, Miss Covington, that my engagements henceforth will prevent my joining actively in your search, but my advice will always be at your service, and it may be that I shall be able to point out methods that have not occurred to you."
"But, oh, Dr. Leeds!" Hilda exclaimed suddenly; "if this villain poisoned my uncle, surely he will not hesitate to put Walter out of his path."
"I have been thinking of that," Dr. Leeds exclaimed, "but I have come to the conclusion that it is very unlikely that he will do so. In the first place, he must have had accomplices. The man who spoke to the nurse and the cabman who drove the child away must both have been employed by him, and I have no doubt whatever that the child has been placed with some persons who are probably altogether ignorant of his identity. Walter was a lovable child, and as soon as he got over his first grief he would no doubt become attached to the people he was with, and although these might be willing to take a child who, they were told, had lost its parents, and was homeless and friendless, without inquiring too closely into the circumstances, it is unlikely in the extreme that they would connive at any acts of violence. It is by no means easy to murder and then to dispose of the body of a child of seven, and I should doubt whether this man would attempt such a thing. He would be perfectly content that the boy would be out of his way, that all traces of him should be lost, and that it would be beyond the range of probability that he could ever be identified, and, lastly, even the most hardened villains do not like putting their necks in a noose. Moreover, if in the last extremity his confederates, believing that he had made away with the child, tried to blackmail him, or some unforeseen circumstance brought home to him the guilt of this abduction, he would be in a position to produce the child, and even to make good terms for himself for doing so. You yourself, whatever your feelings might be as to the man whom you believe to be the murderer of your uncle, would still be willing to pay a considerable sum and allow him to leave the country, on condition of his restoring Walter. Therefore I think that you may make your mind easy on that score, and believe that whatever has happened to him, or wherever he may be, there is no risk of actual harm befalling him."
"Thank you very much, doctor. That is indeed a relief. And now have you thought of any plan upon which we had best set to work?"
"Not at present, beyond the fact that I see that the power you both possess of reading what men say, when, as they believe, out of earshot, ought to be of material advantage to you. As Miss Purcell has promised to associate herself with you in the search, I should say that she would be of more use in this direction than you would. You have told me that he must be perfectly aware of your dislike for him, and would certainly be most careful, were you in his presence, although he might not dream of this power that you possess. But he has never seen your friend, and would not be on his guard with her. I have at present not thought over any plan by which she could watch him—that must be for after consideration—but it seems to me that this offers some chance of obtaining a clew."
"I am ready to do anything, Dr. Leeds," Netta said firmly. "You only have to find out a way, and I will follow out your instructions to the letter. First we must find out whether Hilda's theory about this man, which I scoffed at when she first spoke of it to me, is correct."
"You mean the theory that this man is not John Simcoe at all, but someone who, knowing the facts of the rescue from the tiger, and being also well acquainted with people and things in Benares, has personated him? I will not discuss that now. I have an appointment to meet a colleague for consultation in a difficult case, and have already run the time very close. You shall see me again shortly, when I have had time to think the whole matter over quietly."
"Well, Netta," Hilda said, after Dr. Leeds had left them, "I suppose you will not in future laugh at my instincts. I only wish that they had been stronger. I wish I had told my dear uncle that I disliked the man so thoroughly that I was sure there was something wrong with him, and implored him not to become very intimate with him. If I had told him how strongly I felt on the subject, although, of course, he could have left or given him any sum that he chose, I do think it would have had some influence with him. No doubt he would have laughed at what he would have called my suspicious nature, but I think he would not have become so friendly with the man; but, of course, I never thought of this. Oh, Netta! my heart seems broken at the thought that my dear uncle, the kindest of men, should have been murdered by a man towards whom his thoughts were so kindly that he appointed him his heir in the event of Walter's death. If he had left him double the sum he did, and had directed that in case of Walter's death the property should go to hospitals, the child might now have been safe in the house. It is heartbreaking to think of."
"Well, dear," Netta said, "we have our work before us. I say 'we' because, although he was no relation to me, I loved him from the first, when he came over with the news of your father's death. Had I been his niece as well as you, he could not have treated me more kindly than he did when I was staying with you last year, and during the last four months that I have been with you. One could see, even in the state he was in, how kind his nature was, and his very helplessness added to one'saffection for him. I quite meant what I said, for until this matter is cleared up, and until this crime, if crime it really is, is brought to light, I will stay here, and be your helper, however the long the time may be. There are two of us, and I do not think that either of us are fools, and we ought to be a match for one man. There is one thing we have, that is a man on whom we can rely. I do not mean Dr. Leeds; I regard him as our director. I mean Tom Roberts; he would have given his life, I am sure, for his master, and I feel confident that he will carry out any instructions we may give him to the letter."
"I am sure he will, Netta. Do you think we ought to tell him our suspicions?"
"I should do so unhesitatingly, Hilda. I am sure he will be ready to go through fire and water to avenge his master's death. As aunt is out I think it will be as well to take him into our confidence at once."
Hilda said nothing, but got up and rang the bell. When the footman entered she said, "Tell Roberts that I want to speak to him." When the man came up she went on, "We are quite sure, Tom, that you were most thoroughly devoted to your master, and that you would do anything in your power to get to the bottom of the events that have brought about his death and the carrying off of his grandson."
"That I would, miss; there is not anything that I would not do if you would only set me about it."
"Well, Roberts, I am about to take you into our confidence, relying implicitly upon your silence and on your aid."
"You can do that, miss, safely enough. There is nothing now that I can do for my master; but as for Master Walter, I would walk to China if I thought that there was a chance of finding him there."
"In the first place you must remember, Roberts, that we are acting only upon suspicion; we have only that to go upon, and our object must be to find some proofs to justify those suspicions."
"I understand, miss; you have got an idea, and you want to see if it is right?"
"We ourselves have little doubt of it, Roberts. Now please sit down and listen to me, and don't interrupt me till I have finished."
Then she related the grounds that she had for suspicion that the General's death and Walter's abduction were both the work of John Simcoe, and also her own theory that this man was not the person who had saved the General's life. In spite of her warning not to interrupt, Tom Roberts' exclamations of fury were frequent and strongly worded.
"Well, miss!" he exclaimed, when she had finished and his tongue was untied, "I did not think that there was such a villain upon the face of the earth. Why, if I had suspected this I would have killed him, if I had been hung for it a week after. And to think that he regular took me in! He had always a cheerful word for me, if I happened to open the door for him. 'How are you, Tom?' he would say, 'hearty as usual?' and he would slip a crown into my hand to drink his health. I always keep an account of tips that I receive, and the first thing I do will be to add them up and see how much I have had from him, and I will hand it over to a charity. One don't like setting out to help to bring a man to the gallus when you have got his money in your pocket. I must have been a fool, miss, not to have kept a better watch, but I never thought ill of the man. It seemed to me that he had been a soldier. Sometimes when he was talking with me he would come out with barrack-room sayings, and though he never said that he had served, nor the General neither, I thought that he must have done so. He had a sort of way of carrying his shoulders which you don't often see among men who have not learned the goose-step. I will wait, miss, with your permission, until I have got rid of that money, and then if you say to me, 'Go to that man's rooms and take him by the throat and squeeze the truth out of him,' I am ready to do it."
"We shall not require such prompt measures as that, Tom; we must go about our work carefully and quietly, and I fear that it will be a very long time before we are able to collect facts that we can act upon. We have not decided yet how to begin. I may tell you that the only other person who shares our suspicions is Dr. Leeds. We think it best that even Miss Purcell should know nothing about them. It would only cause her great anxiety, and the matter will, therefore, be kept a close secret among our four selves. In a few days our plans will probably be complete, and I think that your share in the business will be to watch every movement of this man and to ascertain who are his associates; many of them, no doubt, are club men, who, of course, will be above suspicion, but it is certain that he must have had accomplices in the abduction of the child. Whether he visits them or they visit him, is a point to find out. There is little chance of their calling during daylight, and it is in the evening that you will have to keep a close eye on him and ascertain who his visitors are."
"All right, miss, I wish he did not know me by sight; but I expect that I can get some sort of a disguise so that he won't recognize me."
"I don't think that there will be any difficulty about that. Of course we are not going to rely only upon you; Miss Purcell and myself are both going to devote ourselves to the search."
"We will run him down between us, miss, never fear. It cannot be meant that such a fellow as this should not be found out in his villainy. I wish that there was something more for me to do. I know several old soldiers like myself, who would join me willingly enough, and we might between us carry him off and keep him shut up somewhere, just as he is doing Master Walter, until he makes a clean breast of it. It is wonderful what the cells and bread and water will do to take a fellow's spirit down. It is bad enough when one knows how long one has got to bear it; but to know that there is no end to it until you choose to speak would get thetruth out of Old Nick, begging your pardon for naming him."
"Well, we shall see, Roberts. That would certainly be a last resource, and I fear that it would not be so effectual as you think. If he told us that if he did not pay his usual visit to the boy it would be absolutely certain we should never see him alive again, we should not dare retain him."
"Well, miss, whatever you decide on I will do. I have lost as a good master as ever a man had, and there is nothing that I would not do to bring that fellow to justice."
The girls waited impatiently for the next visit of Dr. Leeds. It was four days before he came.
"I hoped to have been here before," he said, "but I have been so busy that it has not been possible for me to manage it. Of course this business has always been in my mind, and it seems to me that the first step to be taken is to endeavor to ascertain whether this fellow is really, as you believe, Miss Covington, an impostor. Have you ever heard him say in what part of the country he formerly resided?"
"Yes; he lived at Stowmarket. I know that some months ago he introduced to uncle a gentleman who was manager at a bank there, and had known him from boyhood. He was up for a few days staying with him."
"That is certainly rather against your surmise, Miss Covington; however, it is as well to clear that matter up before we attempt anything else."
"I will go down and make inquiries, doctor," Netta said quietly. "I am half a head shorter than Hilda, and altogether different in face; therefore, if he learns that any inquiries have been made, he will be sure that whoever made them was not Hilda."
"We might send down a detective, Miss Purcell."
"No; I want to be useful," she said, "and I flatter myself that I shall be able to do quite as well as a detective. We could hardly take a detective into our confidence in a matter of this kind, and not knowingeverything, he might miss points that would give us a clew to the truth. I will start to-morrow. I shall tell my aunt that I am going away for a day or two to follow up some clew we have obtained that may lead to Walter's discovery. In a week you shall know whether this man is really what he claims to be."
"Very well, Miss Purcell; then we will leave this matter in your hands."
"By the way, doctor," Hilda Covington said, "we have taken Roberts into our confidence. We know that we can rely upon his discretion implicitly, and it seemed to us that we must have somebody we can trust absolutely to watch this man."
"I don't think that you could have done better," he said. "I was going to suggest that it would be well to obtain his assistance. From what I have heard, very few of these private detectives can be absolutely relied upon. I do not mean that they are necessarily rogues, who would take money from both sides, but that, if after trying for some time they consider the matter hopeless, they will go on running up expenses and making charges when they have in reality given up the search. What do you propose that he shall do?"
"I should say that, in the first place, he should watch every evening the house where Simcoe lives, and follow up everyone who comes out and ascertain who they are. No doubt the great majority of them will be clubmen, but it is likely that he will be occasionally visited by some of his confederates."
"I think that is an excellent plan. He will, of course, also follow him when he goes out, for it is much more likely that he will visit these fellows than that they should come to him. In a case like this he would assuredly use every precaution, and would scarcely let them know who he is and where he resides."
"No doubt that is so, doctor, and it would make Roberts' work all the easier, for even if they came to the man's lodgings he might be away, following up the track of someone who had called before him."
Netta returned at the end of four days.
"I have not succeeded," she said, in answer to Hilda's inquiring look as she came in. "The man is certainly well known at Stowmarket as John Simcoe; but that does not prove that he is the man, and just as he deceived your uncle he may have deceived the people down there. Now I will go upstairs and take off my things, and then give you a full account of my proceedings.
"My first step," she began on her return, "was, of course, to find out what members of the Simcoe family lived there. After engaging a room at the hotel, which I can assure you was the most unpleasant part of the business, for they seemed to be altogether unaccustomed to the arrival of young ladies unattended, I went into the town. It is not much of a place, and after making some little purchases and inquiring at several places, I heard of a maiden lady of that name. The woman who told me of her was communicative. 'She has just had a great piece of luck,' she said. 'About ten months back a nephew, whom everyone had supposed to have been lost at sea, came home with a great fortune, and they say that he has behaved most handsomely to her. She has always bought her Berlin wool and such things here, and she has spent three or four times as much since he came home as she did before, and I know from a neighbor, of whom she is a customer, that the yards and yards of flannel that she buys for making up into petticoats for poor children is wonderful. Do you know her, miss?' I said that I did not know her personally, but that some friends of mine, knowing that I was going to Stowmarket, had asked me to inquire if Miss Simcoe was still alive. I said casually that I might call and see her, and so got her address.
"I then went to call upon her. She lives in a little place called Myrtle Cottage. I had been a good deal puzzled as to what story I should tell her. I thought at first of giving myself out as the sister of the young lady to whom her nephew was paying his addresses; andas we knew nothing of him except that he was wealthy, and as he had mentioned that he had an aunt at Stowmarket, and as I was coming down there, I had been asked to make inquiries about him. But I thought this might render her so indignant that I should get nothing from her. I thought, therefore, I had better get all she knew voluntarily; so I went to the house, knocked, and asked whether Miss Simcoe was in. I was shown by a little maid into the parlor, a funny, little, old-fashioned room. Presently Miss Simcoe herself came in. She was just the sort of woman I had pictured—a kindly-looking, little old maid.
"'I do not know whether I have done wrong, Miss Simcoe,' I said, 'but I am a stranger here, and having over-worked myself at a picture from which I hope great things, I have been recommended country air; and a friend told me that Stowmarket was a pretty, quiet, country town, just the place for an over-worked Londoner to gain health in, so I came down and made some inquiries for a single lady who would perhaps take me in and give me a comfortable home for two or three months. Your name has been mentioned to me as being just the lady I am seeking."
"'You have been misinformed,' she said, a little primly. 'I do not say that a few months back I might not have been willing to have entertained such an offer, but my circumstances have changed since then, and now I should not think for a moment of doing so.'
"Rising from my seat with a tired air, I said that I was much obliged to her, but I was very sorry she could not take me in, as I was sure that I should be very comfortable; however, as she could not, of course there was an end of it.
"'Sit down, my dear,' the old lady said. 'I see that you are tired and worn out; my servant shall get you a cup of tea. You see,' she went on, as I murmured my thanks and sat down, 'I cannot very well do what you ask. As I said, a few months ago I should certainly have been very glad to have had a young lady like yourselfto stay with me for a time; I think that when a lady gets to my age a little youthful companionship does her good. Besides, I do not mind saying that my means were somewhat straitened, and that a little additional money would have been a great help to me; but everything was changed by the arrival of a nephew of mine. Perhaps you may have heard his name; he is a rich man, and I believe goes out a great deal, and belongs to clubs and so on.'
"I said that I had not heard of him, for I knew nothing about society, nor the sort of men who frequented clubs.
"'No, of course not, my dear,' she said. 'Well, he had been away for twenty years, and everyone thought he was dead. He sailed away in some ship that was never heard of again, and you may guess my surprise when he walked in here and called me aunt.'
"'You must have been indeed surprised, Miss Simcoe,' I said; 'it must have been quite a shock to you. And did you know him at once?'
"'Oh, dear, no! He had been traveling about the world, you see, for a very long time, and naturally in twenty years he was very much changed; but of course I soon knew him when he began to talk.'
"'You recognized his voice, I suppose?' I suggested.
"'No, my dear, no. Of course his voice had changed, just as his appearance had done. He had been what he called knocking about, among all sorts of horrible savages, eating and drinking all kinds of queer things; it made my blood run cold to listen to him. But I never asked any questions about these things; I was afraid he might say that when he was among the cannibals he used to eat human flesh, and I don't think that I could like a man who had done that, even though he was my nephew.'
"'Did he go out quite as a boy, Miss Simcoe?' I asked.
"'Oh, no! He was twenty-four, I think, when he went abroad. He had a situation in the bank here. I knowthat the manager thought very highly of him, and, indeed, he was everywhere well spoken of. My brother Joshua—his father, you know—died, and he came in for two or three thousand pounds. He had always had a great fancy for travel, and so, instead of looking out for some nice girl and settling down, he threw up his situation and started on his travels.'
"'Had his memory been affected by the hot suns and the hardships that he had gone through?' I asked.
"'Oh, dear! not at all. He recognized everyone almost whom he had known. Of course he was a good deal more changed than they were.'
"'They did not recognize him any more than you did?'
"'Not at first,' she said. 'When a man is believed to have been dead for twenty years, his face does not occur to old friends when they meet an apparent stranger.'
"'That is quite natural,' I agreed. 'What a pleasure it must have been to him to talk over old times and old friends!'
"'Indeed it was, my dear. He enjoyed it so much that for three days he would not move out of the house. Dear me! what pleasant talks we had.'
"'And you say, Miss Simcoe, that his coming has quite altered your position?'
"'Yes, indeed. The very first thing he said after coming into the house was that he had come home resolved to make me and my sister Maria thoroughly comfortable. Poor Maria died some years ago, but of course he did not know it. Then he said that he should allow me fifty pounds a year for life.'
"'That was very kind and nice indeed, Miss Simcoe,' I said.
"By this time, seeing that my sympathy was with her, her heart opened altogether to me, and she said that she felt sure that her nephew would not like it were she to take in a lodger, and might indeed consider it a hint that he might have been more liberal than hewas. But she invited me to stay three days with her while I was looking about for suitable lodgings. I found that her house was a regular rendezvous for the tabbies of the neighborhood. Every afternoon there were some four or five of them there. Some brought work, others came in undisguisedly to gossip. Many of these had known John Simcoe in his younger days, and by careless questioning I elicited the fact that no one would have recognized him had it not been for Miss Simcoe having told them of his arrival.
"The manager of the bank I rather shrank from an encounter with, but I managed to obtain from Miss Simcoe a letter her nephew had written to her when he was away from home a short time before he left England, and also one written by him since his return. So far as I could see, there was not the slightest resemblance between them.
"I thought that I might possibly get at someone less likely to be on his guard than the bank manager, and she happened to mention as an interesting fact that one of the clerks who had entered the bank a lad of seventeen, only a month or two before her nephew left, was now married to the daughter of one of her gossips. I said that her story had so deeply interested me that I should be glad to make his acquaintance.
"He came with his wife the evening before I left. He was very chatty and pleasant, and while there was a general conversation going on among the others, I said to him that I was a great student of handwriting, and I flattered myself that I could tell a man's character from his handwriting; but I owned that I had been quite disconcerted by two letters which Miss Simcoe was kind enough to show me from her nephew, one written before he left the bank, the other dated three or four months ago.
"'I cannot see the slightest resemblance between the two,' I said, 'and do not remember any instance which has come under my knowledge of the handwriting of any man or woman changing so completely in the courseof twenty years. The one is a methodical, business sort of writing, showing marks of steady purpose, regularity of habits, and a kindly disposition. I won't give you my opinion of the other, but the impression that was left upon my mind was far from favorable.'
"'Yes, there has been an extraordinary change,' he agreed. 'I can recollect the former one perfectly, for I saw him sign scores of letters and documents, and if he had had an account standing at the bank now I should without question honor a check so signed. No doubt the great difference is accounted for by the life that Mr. Simcoe has led. He told me himself that for years, at one time, he had never taken a pen in hand, and that he had almost forgotten how to write; and that his fingers had grown so clumsy pulling at ropes, rowing an oar, digging for gold, and opening oysters for pearls, that they had become all thumbs, and he wrote no better than a schoolboy.'
"'But that is not the case, Mr. Askill,' I said; 'the writing is still clerkly in character, and does not at all answer to his own description.'
"'I noticed that myself, and so did our chief. He showed me a letter that he had received from Simcoe, asking him to run up for a few days to stay with him in London. He showed it to me with the remark that in all his experience he had never seen so great and complete a change in the handwriting of any man as in that of Mr. Simcoe since he left the bank. He considered it striking proof how completely a man's handwriting depends upon his surroundings. He turned up an old ledger containing many entries in Simcoe's handwriting, and we both agreed that we could not see a single point of resemblance.'
"'Thank you,' I said; 'I am glad to find that my failure to recognize the two handwritings as being those of the same man has been shared by two gentlemen who are, like myself in a humble way, experts at handwriting.'
"The next morning I got your letter, written after Ihad sent you the address, and told Miss Simcoe that I was unexpectedly called back to town, but that it was quite probable that I should ere long be down again, when I would arrange with one or other of the people of whom she had kindly spoken to me. That is all I have been able to learn, Hilda."
"But it seems to me that you have learned an immense deal, Netta. You have managed it most admirably."
"At any rate, I have got as much as I expected, if not more; I have learned that no one recognized this man Simcoe on his first arrival in his native town, and it was only when this old lady had spread the news abroad, and had told the tale of his generosity to her, and so prepared the way for him, that he was more or less recognized; she having no shadow of doubt but that he was her long-lost nephew. In the three days that he stopped with her he had no doubt learned from the dear old gossip almost every fact connected with his boyhood, the men he was most intimate with, the positions they held, and I doubt not some of the escapades in which they might have taken part together; so that he was thoroughly well primed before he met them. Besides, no doubt they were more anxious to hear tales of adventure than to talk of the past, and his course must have been a very easy one.
"Miss Simcoe said that he spent money like a prince, and gave a dinner to all his old friends, at which every dainty appeared, and the champagne flowed like water. We may take it as certain that none of his guests ever entertained the slightest doubt that their host was the man he pretended to be. There could seem to them no conceivable reason why a stranger should come down, settle an income upon Miss Simcoe, and spend his money liberally among all his former acquaintances, if he were any other man than John Simcoe.
"Lastly, we have the handwriting. The man seems to have laid his plans marvelously well, and to have provided against every unforeseen contingency; yet undoubtedly he must have altogether overlooked the questionof handwriting, although his declaration that he had almost forgotten how to use his pen was an ingenious one, and I might have accepted it myself if he had written in the rough, scrambling character you would expect under the circumstances. But his handwriting, although in some places he had evidently tried to write roughly, on the whole is certainly that of a man accustomed at one time of his life to clerkly work, and yet differing as widely as the poles from the handwriting of Simcoe, both in the bank ledger and in the letter to his aunt.
"I think, Hilda, that although the matter cannot be decided, it certainly points to your theory that this man is not the John Simcoe who left Stowmarket twenty years ago. He attempted, and I think very cleverly, to establish his identity by a visit to Stowmarket, and no doubt did so to everyone's perfect satisfaction; but when we come to go into the thing step by step, we see that everything he did might have been done by anyone who happened to have a close resemblance to John Simcoe in figure and some slight resemblance in face, after listening for three days to Miss Simcoe's gossip."
"I cannot wait for Dr. Leeds to come round," Hilda said the next morning at breakfast. "You and I will pay him a visit in Harley Street. I am sure that he will not grudge a quarter of an hour to hear what you have done."
"What mystery are you two girls engaged in?" Miss Purcell asked, as she placidly poured out the tea.
"It is a little plot of our own, aunt," Netta said. "We are trying to get on Walter's track in our own way, and to be for a time amateur detectives. So far we have not found any decisive clew, but I think that we are searching in the right direction. Please trust us entirely, and we hope some day we shall have the triumph of bringing Walter back, safe and sound."
"I pray God that it may be so, my dear. I know that you are both sensible girls, and not likely to get yourselves into any silly scrape."
"I don't think we are, aunt; but I am afraid that neither of us would consider any scrape a foolish one that brought us even a little bit nearer to the object of our search. At any rate, aunt, it will reassure you to know that we are acting in concert with Dr. Leeds, of whom I know that you entertain the highest opinion."
"Certainly I do. Of course I am no judge whatever as to whether he is a good doctor, but I should think, from what Dr. Pearson says, that he must, in the opinion of other medical men, be considered an exceptionally clever man for his age; and having seen him for four months and lived in close contact with him, I would rather be attended by him than by anyone else I have ever met. His kindness to the General was unceasing.Had he been his son, he could not have been more patient and more attentive. He showed wonderful skill in managing him, and was at once sympathetic and cheerful. But, more than that, I admired his tact in filling the somewhat difficult position in which he was placed. Although he was completely one of the family, and any stranger would have supposed that he was a brother, or at least a cousin, there was always something in his manner that, even while laughing and chatting with us all, placed a little barrier between us and himself; and one felt that, although most essentially a friend, he was still there as the General's medical attendant.
"It was a difficult position for a man of his age to be placed in. Had he been like most of the doctors we knew in Germany, a man filled with the idea that he must always be a professor of medicine, and impressing people with his learning and gravity, it might have been easy enough. But there is nothing of that sort about him at all; he is just as high-spirited and is as bright and cheerful as other young men of about the same age, and it was only when he was with the General that his gentleness of manner recalled the fact that he was a doctor. As I say, it was a difficult position, with only an old woman like myself and two girls, who looked to him for comfort and hope, who treated him as if he had been an old friend, and were constantly appealing to him for his opinion on all sorts of subjects.
"I confess that, when he first came here with Dr. Pearson, I thought that it was a very rash experiment to introduce a young and evidently pleasant man to us under such circumstances, especially as you, Hilda, are a rich heiress and your own mistress; and feeling as I did that I was in the position of your chaperon, I must say that at first I felt very anxious about you, and it was a great relief to me when after a time I saw no signs, either on his part or yours, of any feeling stronger than friendship springing up."
Hilda laughed merrily.
"The idea never entered into my mind, aunt; it isfunny to me that so many people should think that a young man and a young woman cannot be thrown together without falling in love with each other. At present, fortunately, I don't quite understand what falling in love means. I like Dr. Leeds better, I think, than any young man I ever met, but I don't think that it can be in the least like what people feel when they fall in love. Certainly it was always as uncle's doctor, rather than as a possible suitor for my hand—that is the proper expression, isn't it?—that I thought of him."
"So I was glad to perceive, Hilda; and I was very thankful that it was so. Against him personally I had nothing to say, quite the contrary; but I saw that he was greatly attached to a profession in which he seems likely to make himself a fine position, and nothing could be more uncomfortable than that such a man should marry a girl with a fine country estate. Either he would have to give up his profession or she would have to settle down in London as the wife of a physician, and practically forfeit all her advantages."
Hilda again laughed.
"It is wonderful that all these things should never have occurred to me, aunt. I see now how fortunate it was that I did not fall in love with him. And now, Netta, as we have finished breakfast, we will put on our things at once and go and consult our physician in ordinary. We have a fair chance of being the first to arrive if we start immediately. I told Roberts to have the carriage at the door at half-past nine, and he does not begin to see patients until ten."
"Bravo! Miss Purcell," Dr. Leeds exclaimed, when she had given him an account of her mission. "Of course there is nothing absolutely proved, but at least it shows that his identity is open to doubt, since none of the people he had known recognized him at first sight, and of course all his knowledge of them may have been picked up from the gossiping old lady, his aunt. Something has been gained, but the evidence is rather negative than positive. It is possible that he is not the manthat he pretends to be; though at present, putting aside the question of handwriting, we must admit that the balance of probability is very much the other way. To begin with, how could this man, supposing him to be an impostor, know that John Simcoe was born in Stowmarket, and had relatives living there?"
"I forgot to mention that, Dr. Leeds. An advertisement was inserted in the county paper, saying that if any relatives of John Simcoe, who left England about 1830, would communicate with someone or other in town they would hear something to their advantage. I was told this by one of Miss Simcoe's friends, who saw it in the paper and brought it in to her. She was very proud of having made the discovery, and regarded herself quite in the light of a benefactor to Miss Simcoe. I remarked, when she told me, that it was curious he should have advertised instead of coming down himself to inquire. Miss Simcoe said that she had expressed surprise to him, and that he had said he did so because he should have shrunk from coming down, had he not learned there was someone to welcome him."
"Curious," Dr. Leeds said thoughtfully. "We may quite put it out of our minds that the reason he gave was the real one. A man of this kind would not have suffered any very severe shock had he found that Stowmarket and all it contained had been swallowed up by an earthquake. No, certainly that could not have been the reason; we must think of some other. And now, ladies, as this is the third card I have had brought in since you arrived, I must leave the matter as it stands. I think that we are getting on much better than we could have expected."
"That advertisement is very curious, Netta," Hilda said as they drove back. "Why should he have put it in? It would have been so much more natural that he should have gone straight down."
"I cannot think, Hilda. It did not strike me particularly when I heard of it, and I did not give it a thought afterwards. You see, I did not mention it, either to youor Dr. Leeds, until it flashed across my mind when we were talking. Of course I did not see the advertisement itself, but Miss Simcoe told me that there had been a good deal of discussion before she answered it, as some of them had thought that it might be a trick."
"When was it he went down?"
"It was in August last year; and it was in the first week in September that he came here."
"He went down to get or manufacture proof of his identity," Hilda said. "As it turned out, uncle accepted his statement at once, and never had the smallest doubt as to his being John Simcoe. The precaution, therefore, was unnecessary; but at the same time it certainly helps him now that a doubt has arisen. It would have been very strange if a man possessing sufficient means to travel in India should have had no friends or connections in England. I was present when he told my uncle that he had been down to see his aunt at Stowmarket, and in the spring he brought a gentleman who, he said, was manager of the Stowmarket Bank, in which he had himself been at one time a clerk. So you see he did strengthen his position by going down there."
"It strengthens it in one way, Hilda, but in the other it weakens it. As long as no close inquiries were made, it was doubtless an advantage to him to have an aunt of the same name in Stowmarket, and to be able to prove by means of a gentleman in the position of manager of the bank that he, John Simcoe, had worked under him three or four and twenty years ago. On the other hand, it was useful to us as a starting-point. If we had been utterly in the dark as to Simcoe's birthplace or past career, we should have had to start entirely in the dark. Now, at any rate, we have located the birthplace of the real man, and learned something of his position, his family, and how he became possessed of money that enabled him to start on a tour round the world. I adhere as firmly as before to the belief that this is not the real man, and the next step is to discover how he learned that John Simcoe had lived at Stowmarket. At any rate itwould be as well that we should find the advertisement. It might tell us nothing, but at the least we should learn the place to which answers were to be sent. How should we set about that?"
"I can get a reader's ticket for the British Museum, because the chief librarian was a friend of uncle's and dined with him several times," Hilda replied. "If I write to him and say that I want to examine some files of newspapers, to determine a question of importance, I am sure that he will send me a ticket at once. I may as well ask for one for you also. We may want to go there again to decide some other point."
Hilda at once wrote a note and sent Tom Roberts with it to the Museum, and he returned two hours later with the tickets.
"There are three Suffolk papers," the chief assistant in the Newspaper Department said courteously, on their sending up the usual slip of paper. "Which do you want?"
"I do not know. I should like to see them all three, please; the numbers for the first two weeks in August last."
In a few minutes three great volumes were placed on the table. These contained a year's issue, and on turning to the first week in August they found that the advertisement had appeared in all of the papers. They carefully copied it out, and were about to leave the library when Netta said:
"Let us talk this over for a minute or two before we go. It seems to me that there is a curious omission in the advertisement."
"What is that?"
"Don't you see that he does not mention Stowmarket? He simply inquires for relations of John Simcoe, who was supposed to have been lost at sea. It would certainly seem to be more natural that he should put it only in the paper that was likely to be read in Stowmarket, and surely he would have said 'relatives of John Simcoe, who left Stowmarket in the year 1830.' It looks verymuch as if, while he knew that Simcoe was a Suffolk man, he had no idea in what part of the county he had lived."
"It is very curious, certainly, Netta; and, as you say, it does seem that if he had known that it had been Stowmarket he would have said so in the advertisement. Possibly!" Hilda exclaimed so sharply that a gentleman at an adjoining table murmured "Hush!" "he did did not know that it was in Suffolk. Let us look in the London papers. Let us ask for the files of theTimesandStandard."
The papers were brought and the advertisement was found in both of them.
"There, you see," Netta said triumphantly, "he still says nothing about Suffolk."
She beckoned to the attendant.
"I am sorry to give you so much trouble, but will you please get us the files of three or four country papers of the same date. I should like them in different parts of the country—Yorkshire, for instance, and Hereford, and Devonshire."
"It is no trouble, miss," he replied; "that is what we are here for."
In a few minutes the three papers were brought, and Netta's triumph was great when she found the advertisement in each of them.
"That settles it conclusively," she said. "The man did not know what part of the country John Simcoe came from, and he advertised in the London papers, and in the provincial papers all over the country."
"That was a splendid idea of yours, Netta. I think that it settles the question as to the fact that the theory you all laughed at was correct, and that this man is not the real John Simcoe."
When they got back, Hilda wrote a line to Dr. Leeds:
"Dear Doctor: I do think that we have discovered beyond doubt that the man is an impostor, and that whoever he may be, he is not John Simcoe. When you canspare time, please come round. It is too long to explain."
"Dear Doctor: I do think that we have discovered beyond doubt that the man is an impostor, and that whoever he may be, he is not John Simcoe. When you canspare time, please come round. It is too long to explain."
At nine o'clock that evening Dr. Leeds arrived, and heard of the steps that they had taken.
"Really, young ladies," he said, "I must retire at once from my post of director of searches. It was an excellent thought to ascertain the exact wording of the advertisement, and the fact that the word Stowmarket did not appear in it, and that it was inserted in other county papers, was very significant as to the advertiser's ignorance of John Simcoe's birthplace. But the quickness with which you saw how this could be proved up to the hilt shows that you are born detectives, and I shall be happy to sit at your feet in future."
"Then you think that it is quite conclusive?"
"Perfectly so. The real John Simcoe would, of course, have put the advertisement into the county paper published nearest to Stowmarket, and he would naturally have used the word Stowmarket. That omission might, however, have been accidental; but the appearance of the advertisement in the London papers, and as you have seen, in provincial papers all over England, appears to me ample evidence that he did not know from what county Simcoe came, and was ready to spend a pretty heavy amount to discover it. Now, I think that you should at once communicate with Mr. Pettigrew, and inform him of your suspicion and the discovery that you have made. It is for him to decide whether any steps should be taken in the matter, and, if so, what steps. As one of the trustees he is responsible for the proper division of the estates of General Mathieson, and the matter is of considerable importance to him.
"I think now, too, that our other suspicions should also be laid before him. Of course, these are greatly strengthened by his discovery. John Simcoe, who saved your uncle's life at the risk of his own, was scarcely the sort of man who would be guilty of murder and abduction; but an unknown adventurer, who hadpassed himself off as being Simcoe, with the object of obtaining a large legacy from the General, may fairly be assumed capable of taking any steps that would enable him to obtain it. If you'd like to write to Mr. Pettigrew and make an appointment to meet him at his office at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon, I will be here half an hour before and accompany you."
The lawyer was somewhat surprised when Dr. Leeds entered the office with the two ladies, but that astonishment became stupefaction when they told their story.
"In the whole of my professional career I have never heard a more astonishing story. I own that the abduction of the child at that critical moment did arouse suspicions in my mind that this Mr. Simcoe, the only person that could be benefited by his disappearance, might be at the bottom of it, and I was quite prepared to resist until the last any demand that might be made on his part for Walter to be declared to be dead, and the property handed over to him. But that the man could have had any connection whatever with the illness of the General, or that he was an impostor, never entered my mind. With regard to the first, it is still a matter of suspicion only, and we have not a shadow of proof to go upon. You say yourself, Dr. Leeds, that Dr. Pearson, the General's own medical attendant, and the other eminent physicians called in, refused absolutely to accept your suggestion, because, exceptional as the seizure and its effects were, there was nothing that absolutely pointed to poison. Unless we can obtain some distinct evidence on that point, the matter must not be touched upon; for even you would hardly be prepared to swear in court that the General was a victim to poison?"
"No. I could not take my oath to it, but I certainly could declare that the symptoms, to my mind, could be attributed to poison only."
"In the case of the abduction of the boy," the lawyer went on, "the only absolute ground for our suspicion is that this man and no one else would have benefited by it; and this theory certainly appears to be, after thediscoveries you have made, a very tenable one. It all comes so suddenly on me that I cannot think of giving any opinion as to the best course to be adopted. I shall, in the first place, consult Mr. Farmer, and in the next place shall feel it my duty to take my co-trustee, Colonel Bulstrode, into my confidence, because any action that we may take must, of course, be in our joint names. He called here the other day and stated to me that he regarded the whole matter of Walter's abduction to be suspicious in the extreme. He said he was convinced that John Simcoe was at the bottom of it, his interest in getting the boy out of the way being unquestionable, and that we must move heaven and earth to find the child. He agreed that we can do nothing about carrying out the will until we have found him. I told him of the steps that we have been taking and their want of success. 'By gad, sir,' he said, 'he must be found, if we examine every child in the country.' I ventured to suggest that this would be a very difficult undertaking, to which he only made some remark about the cold-bloodedness of lawyers, and said that if there were no other way he would dress himself up as a costermonger and go into every slum of London. Whether you would find him a judicious assistant in your searches I should scarcely be inclined to say, but you would certainly find him ready to give every assistance in his power."