"It seems to me, Hilda, that somehow or other we are wasting our time," Netta said one morning suddenly, as they were sitting together.
"How do you mean, Netta?"
"Well, you see, we relied a great deal on being able to overhear conversation from a distance; and, except those few words we gathered in the Park, we have absolutely done nothing that way."
"But how can we do more than we are doing?"
"I don't know; that is what is troubling me. You know, dear, that I am quite content to give up my own work to help you. At first, of course, aunt and I would have stayed here, at any rate for a time, to keep you company; but your uncle has been dead now for more than eight months, and time is going on. If I were really helping you I would stop, if it were five years; but in fact I am not helping you in the way we intended."
"You are helping me, Netta!" Hilda exclaimed with tears in her eyes. "How should I have got on through all this sad time if you had not been here to comfort and cheer me?"
"Yes, but the necessity for that is over. You have your friends, and though you don't go out yet, you often go to Lady Moulton's and some of your other friends', and they come to see you."
"Yes, and you will never go with me, Netta, nor see them when they come."
"No, dear; I have nothing in common with them. I do not know the people of whom you talk, and should simply sit there uncomfortably, so I prefer to be out of italtogether. Then I really miss my work. Ever since you came to us some eight years ago I have been teaching eight or ten hours a day. I like the work; it is immensely interesting, and I am happy in seeing my pupils improve."
"And all this means," Hilda said sorrowfully, "you are going to say that it is time for you to go back."
"No, it does not necessarily mean that—there is an alternative; I must either be doing something or go back."
"But, as I said before, Netta, what can we do, more than we have done?"
"That is what I have been thinking, Hilda. Anyhow, I mean to try to do something before I give it up and go to Germany again."
"I warn you, Netta, that I shall be furious if you do that. I am my own mistress now, for Mr. Pettigrew will let me do as I like now I am nineteen, and am quite determined that our old plan shall be carried out, and that you shall start an institution like that of Professor Menzel somewhere near London. You have been twelve months away, your pupils have already taken to other teachers, and there cannot be the least occasion for your assistance in an institution that is now well stocked with teachers, while here you could do enormous good. Anyhow, whether you stay or not, I shall, as soon as all this is settled, take a large house standing in its own grounds, in some healthy place near London, and obtain teachers."
"Well, we need not talk of that just yet," Netta said quietly; "it will be time enough when I have failed in carrying out my plans."
"But what are your plans?"
"I have not quite settled myself; and when I do I mean to work entirely in my own way, and shall say nothing about it until I come to you and say I have succeeded, or I have failed."
Hilda opened her eyes in surprise.
"But why should I be kept in the dark?"
"Because, dear, you might not approve of my plans," Netta replied coolly.
"You are not thinking of doing anything foolish, I hope?" Hilda exclaimed.
"If it were foolish it would be excusable where the counsels of wisdom have failed," Netta laughed; and then more seriously, "Nothing would be foolish if it could possibly lead to the discovery of Walter's hiding place."
That afternoon, when Hilda drove out with Miss Purcell to make some calls, Netta rang the bell, and when Tom Roberts came in she said:
"I want to have a long talk with you, Roberts. But mind, what I say is to be kept a perfect secret between ourselves."
"Yes, miss," he said in surprise.
"Now, sit down," she went on; "we can talk more comfortably so. Now, Roberts, there is no doubt that we are not making much headway with our search."
"That we are not, Miss Netta," he agreed. "I did think that we had gained something when we traced him to that house on Pentonville Hill, but it does not seem that anything has come of it, after all."
"Then it is quite time that we took some other steps," she said decisively.
"I am ready, miss," he replied eagerly. "You tell me what to do, and I am game to do it."
"Well, there are two or three things I have in my mind. First of all, I want to be able to watch John Simcoe and this Pentonville man when they are talking together."
"Yes, I understand," he said; "but how is it to be done?"
"That is what I want to find out. Now, in the first place, about this house. Which way did the window look of the room where there was a light?"
"That window was at the side of the house, miss; a little way round the corner. We noticed the light there, but there was another window looking out on the front. We did not see any light there, as the shutters were closed."
"And you say that the curtains of the other window were pulled very close?"
"Yes, they crossed each other most of the way down."
"Now, the question in my mind, Roberts, is which would be easier—to cut a slit in the curtain, or to bore a hole in the shutter, or to take a brick out carefully from the side wall and then to deepen the hole until we got to the wall-paper, and then make a slight hole there?"
Roberts looked at her with astonishment. "Do you really mean it, miss?"
"Certainly I mean it; it seems to me that our only chance of ever finding Walter is to overhear those men's talk."
"Then, miss, I should say that the simplest way would be to cut a window pane out."
"Yes; but, you see, it is pretty certain that that curtain will not be drawn until they come in, and they would notice it at once. If we took out a pane in the front window the shutter would prevent our seeing or hearing, and the man would be sure to notice the pane was missing as he walked up from the gate to the house."
"I should say, miss, that the best plan would be for me to manage to get into the house some time during the day and to hide in that room, under the table or sofa or somewhere, and listen to them."
She shook her head.
"In the first place, Roberts, you would certainly be murdered if they found you there."
"I would take my chance of that, miss; and you may be sure that I would take a brace of the General's pistols with me, and they would not find it such easy work to get rid of me."
"That may be so," Netta said, "but if in the struggle you shot them both, our last chance of ever hearing of Walter would be gone. You yourself might be tried for murder, and it would be assumed, of course, that you were a burglar; for the explanation that you had broken into the house only to hear a conversation would scarcely be believed. Moreover, you must remember that we don'tknow how often these men meet. Simcoe has not been there since you tracked him there six months ago, and the only thing we have since found out is that the man I saw him with in the park is the man who lives in that house. It would never do for you to make an entrance into the house night after night and week after week, to run the risk of being detected there, or seized as you entered, or caught by the police as a burglar. No, as far as I can see, the only safe plan is to get out a brick very carefully in the side wall and to make a hole behind it through the paper. It might be necessary to make an entry into the house before this was done, so as to decide which was the best spot for an opening. A great deal would depend upon the paper in the room. If it is a light paper, with only a small amount of pattern upon it, any hole large enough to see through might be noticed. If it is a dark paper, well covered, a hole might be made without any fear of its catching the eye. You see, it must be a rather large hole, for, supposing the wall is only nine inches thick, a person standing outside could not see what was passing inside unless the hole were a good size."
"But I doubt much if you would be able to hear them, Miss Netta."
"No, I don't think that I should; especially as people talking of things of that sort, even if they had no great fear of being overheard, would speak in a low voice. But that would not matter if I could see their faces. I should know what they were saying."
Roberts did not think it right to offer any remark on what appeared to him to be impossible, and he confined himself to saying in a respectful voice, "Indeed, Miss Netta."
"I am stone-deaf," she said, "but have learned to read what people are saying from the movement of their lips."
Although the "Indeed, miss," was as respectful as before, Netta saw that he did not in the slightest degree believe her.
"Just go to the other end of the room, Roberts, and make some remark to yourself. Move your lips in the same way as if you were talking, but do not make any sound."
Roberts, with military obedience, marched to the other end of the room, placed himself in a corner, and turned round, facing her. His lips moved, and, confident that she could not know what he was saying, he expressed his natural sentiments.
The girl at once repeated the words: "Well, I'm jiggered! This is a rum start; Miss Netta has gone clean off her head."
Roberts' jaw dropped, and he flushed up to the hair.
"I am sure," he began; but he was stopped by the girl's merry laugh.
"Do not apologize, Roberts; it was natural enough that you should be surprised. Well, you see I can do as I say. We will now go on with our talk."
Greatly abashed, Tom Roberts returned to the chair, murmuring to himself as he sat down, "Well, I'm blowed!" when he was roughly recalled to the necessity of keeping his mouth shut by her quiet remark, "Never mind about being blowed at present, Roberts; let us talk over another plan. Who are the keepers of the house in Jermyn Street?"
"It is kept by a man and his wife, miss. He has been a butler, I believe, and his wife was a cook. He waits upon the gentlemen who lodge there, and she cooks. They have a girl who sweeps and does the bedrooms and the scrubbing and that sort of thing."
"What sort of a girl is she, Roberts?"
"She seems a nice sort of young woman, miss. Andrew has spoken to her more than I have, because, you see, my get-up aint likely to take much with a young girl."
"I suppose she is not very much attached to her place?"
"Lor', no, miss; she told Andrew that she was only six months up from the country, and they don't pay herbut eight pounds a year, and pretty hard work she has to do for it."
"Well, Roberts, I want to take her place."
"You want——" and Roberts' voice failed him in his astonishment.
"Yes, I want to take her place, Roberts. I should think that if you or Andrew were to tell her that you have a friend up from the country who wants just such a place, and is ready to pay five pounds to get one, she might be ready to take the offer; especially as you might say that you knew of a lady who is in want of an under-housemaid and you thought that you could get her the place."
"As to that, miss, I have no doubt that she would leave to-morrow, if she could get five pounds. She told Andrew that she hated London, and should go down home and take a country place as soon as she had saved up money to do so."
"All the better, Roberts; then all she would have to do would be to say that she had heard of a place near home, and wanted to leave at once. She did not wish to inconvenience them, but that she had a cousin who was just coming up to London and wanted a place, and that she would jump at it. She could say that her cousin had not been in service before, but that she was a thorough good cleaner and hard worker."
"And do you mean that you would go as a servant, Miss Netta? Why, it would not be right for you to do so."
"Anything would be right that led to the discovery of Walter's hiding place, Roberts. I have been accustomed to teaching, and I have helped my aunt to look after the house for years, and I do not in the slightest degree mind playing the part of a servant for a short time, in order to try and get at the bottom of this matter. You think that it can be managed?"
"I am sure it can be managed right enough, miss; but what Miss Covington would say, if she knew that I had a hand in bringing it about, I can't say."
"Well, you won't be drawn into the matter. I shall say enough to my aunt to satisfy her that I am acting for the best, and shall simply, when I go, leave a note for your mistress, telling her that I have gone to work out an idea that I have had in my mind, and that it would be no use for her to inquire into the matter until she hears of me again."
"What am I to tell Andrew, miss?"
"Simply tell him that a young woman has been engaged to watch Simcoe in his lodgings. Then tell him the story he has to tell the girl. I shall want three or four days to get my things ready. I shall have to go to a dressmaker's and tell her that I want three or four print gowns for a young servant about my own figure, and as soon as they are ready I shall be ready, too."
"Well, miss, I will do as you tell me, but I would say, quite respectful, I hope that you will bear in mind, if things goes wrong, that I was dead against it, and that it was only because you said that it was our only chance of finding Master Walter that I agreed to lend a hand."
"I will certainly bear that in mind," Netta said with a smile. "Talk it over with Andrew to-night; but remember he is only to know that a young woman has been engaged to keep a watch on Simcoe."
"He will be glad enough to hear, miss, that someone else is going to do something. He says the Colonel is so irritable because he has found out so little that there is no bearing with him."
"The Colonel is trying," Netta laughed. "As you know, he comes here two or three times a week and puts himself into such rages that, as he stamps up and down the room, I expect to hear a crash and to find that the dining-room ceiling has fallen down. He is a thoroughly kind-hearted man, but is a dreadful specimen of what an English gentleman may come to after he has had the command of an Indian regiment for some years, and been accustomed to have his will obeyed in everything. It is very bad for a man."
"It is a good deal worse for his servant, miss," TomRoberts said, in a tone of deep sympathy for his comrade. "I doubt whether I could have stood it myself; but though Andrew expresses his feelings strong sometimes, I know that if you offered him a good place, even in Buckingham Palace, he would not leave the Colonel."
Two days later Netta heard that the girl in Jermyn Street had joyfully accepted the offer, and had that morning told her master that she had heard that she was wanted badly at home, and that a cousin of hers would be up in a day or two, and would, she was sure, be very glad to take her place. The master agreed to give her a trial, if she looked a clean and tidy girl.
"I shall be clean and tidy, Roberts; and I am sure I shall do no injustice to her recommendation."
Roberts shook his head. The matter was, to his mind, far too serious to be joked about, and he almost felt as if he were acting in a treasonable sort of way in aiding to carry out such a project.
On the following Monday Hilda, on coming down to breakfast, found a note on the table. She opened it in haste, seeing that it was in Netta's handwriting, and her eyes opened in surprise and almost dismay as she read:
"My Darling Hilda: I told you that I had a plan. Well, I am off to carry it out. It is of no use your asking what it is, or where I am going. You will hear nothing of me until I return to tell you whether I have failed or succeeded. Aunt knows what I am going to do."
"My Darling Hilda: I told you that I had a plan. Well, I am off to carry it out. It is of no use your asking what it is, or where I am going. You will hear nothing of me until I return to tell you whether I have failed or succeeded. Aunt knows what I am going to do."
Hilda at once ran upstairs to Miss Purcell's room.
"Where has Netta gone?" she exclaimed. "Her letter has given me quite a turn. She says that you know; but I feel sure that it is something very foolish and rash."
"I thought that you had a better opinion of Netta's common sense," Miss Purcell said placidly, smiling a little at Hilda's excitement. "It is her arrangement, dear, and not mine, and I am certainly not at liberty to giveyou any information about it. I do not say that I should not have opposed it in the first instance, had I known of it, but I certainly cannot say that there is anything foolish in it, and I admit that it seems to me to offer a better chance of success than any plan that has yet been tried. I don't think there is any occasion for anxiety about her. Netta has thought over her plans very carefully, and has gone to work in a methodical way; she may fail, but if so I don't think that it will be her fault."
"But why could she not tell me as well as you?" Hilda asked rather indignantly.
"Possibly because she did not wish to raise hopes that might not be fulfilled; but principally, I own, because she thought you would raise objections to it, and she was bent upon having her own way. She has seconded you well, my dear, all through this business."
"Yes, I know, aunt; she has been most kind in every respect."
"Well, my dear, then don't grudge her having a little plan of her own."
"I don't grudge her a bit," Hilda said impetuously, "and, as you are quite satisfied, I will try to be quite satisfied too. But, you see, it took me by surprise; and I was so afraid that she might do something rash and get into trouble somehow. You know really I am quite afraid of this man, and would certainly far rather run a risk myself than let her do so."
"Of that I have no doubt, Hilda; but I am quite sure that, if the case had been reversed, you would have undertaken this little plan that she has hit upon, to endeavor to relieve her of a terrible anxiety, just as she is doing for you."
"Well, I will be patient, aunt. How long do you think that she will be away?"
"That is more than I can tell you; but at any rate she has promised to write me a line at least twice a week, and, should I think it right, I can recall her."
"That is something, aunt. You cannot guess whether it is likely to be a week or a month?"
Miss Purcell shook her head.
"It will all depend upon whether she succeeds in hitting upon a clew as to where Walter is. If she finds that she has no chance of so doing she will return; if, on the other hand, she thinks that there is a probability that with patience she will succeed, she will continue to watch and wait."
"Miss Netta is not ill, I hope, miss?" Roberts said, when he came in to clear the breakfast things away.
"No she has gone away on a short visit," Hilda replied. Had she been watching the old soldier's face, she might have caught a slight contortion that would have enlightened her as to the fact that he knew more than she did about the matter; but she had avoided looking at him, lest he should read in her face that she was in ignorance as to Netta's whereabouts. She would have liked to have asked when she went; whether she took a box with her, and whether she had gone early that morning or late the evening before; but she felt that any questions of the sort would show that she was totally in the dark as to her friend's movements. In fact Netta had walked out early that morning, having sent off a box by the carrier on the previous Saturday when Hilda was out; Roberts having himself carried it to the receiving house.
It was four or five days before Dr. Leeds called again.
"Is Miss Purcell out?" he asked carelessly, when some little time had elapsed without her making her appearance.
"Is that asked innocently, Dr. Leeds?" Hilda said quickly.
The doctor looked at her in genuine surprise.
"Innocently, Miss Covington? I don't think that I quite understand you."
"I see, doctor, that I have been in error. I suspected you of being an accomplice of Netta's in a little scheme in which she is engaged on her own account." And she then told him about her disappearance, of the letter thatshe had received, and of the conversation with her aunt. Dr. Leeds was seriously disturbed.
"I need hardly say that this comes as a perfect surprise to me, Miss Covington, and I say frankly a very unpleasant one. But the only satisfactory feature is that the young lady's aunt does not absolutely disapprove of the scheme, whatever it is, although it is evident that her approval is by no means a warm one. This is a very serious matter. I have the highest opinion of your friend's judgment and sense, but I own that I feel extremely uneasy at the thought that she has, so to speak, pitted herself against one of the most unscrupulous villains I have ever met, whose past conduct shows that he would stop at nothing, and who is playing for a very big stake. It would be as dangerous to interfere between a tiger and his prey as to endeavor to discover the secret on which so much depends."
"I feel that myself, doctor, and I own that I'm exceedingly anxious. Aunt has had two short letters from her. Both are written in pencil, but the envelope is in ink, and in her usual handwriting. I should think it probable that she took with her several directed envelopes. The letters are very short. The first was: 'I am getting on all right, aunt, and am comfortable. Too early to say whether I am likely to discover anything. Pray do not fidget about me, nor let Hilda do so. There is nothing to be uneasy about.' The second was as nearly as possible in the same words, except that she said, 'You and Hilda must be patient. Rome was not built in a day, and after so many clever people have failed you cannot expect that I can succeed all at once.'"
"That is good as far as it goes," the doctor said, "but you see it does not go very far. It is not until success is nearly reached that the danger will really begin. I do not mind saying to you that Miss Purcell is very dear to me. I have not spoken to her on the subject, as I wished to see how my present partnership was likely to turn out. I am wholly dependent upon my profession, and until I felt my ground thoroughly I determined toremain silent. You can imagine, therefore, how troubled I am at your news. Were it not that I have such implicit confidence in her judgment I should feel it still more; but even as it is, when I think how unscrupulous and how desperate is the man against whom she has, single-handed, entered the lists, I cannot but be alarmed."
"I am very glad at what you have told me, doctor. I had a little hope that it might be so. It seemed to me impossible that you could be living for four months with such a dear girl without being greatly attracted by her. Of course I know nothing of her feelings. The subject is one that has never been alluded to between us, but I am sure that no girl living is more fitted than she is to be the wife of a medical man. I would give much to have Netta back again, but Miss Purcell is obdurate. She says that, knowing as she does what Netta is doing, she does not think that she is running any risk—at any rate, none proportionate to the importance of finding a clew to Walter's hiding place."
"Will you ask her if she will write to her niece and urge her to return, saying how anxious you are about her? Or, if she will not do that, whether she will release her from her promise of secrecy, so that she may let us know what she is doing?"
"I will go and ask her now; I will bring her down so that you can add your entreaties to mine, doctor."
But Miss Purcell refused to interfere.
"I consider Netta's scheme to be a possible one," she said, "though I am certainly doubtful of its success. But she has set her heart upon it, and I will do nothing to balk her. I do not say that I am free from anxiety myself, but my confidence in Netta's cleverness, and I may say prudence, is such that I believe that the risk she is running is very slight. It would be cruel, and I think wrong at the present moment, when above all things it is necessary that her brain should be clear, to distress and trouble her by interfering with her actions."
"Perhaps you are right, Miss Purcell," the doctorsaid thoughtfully. "Being totally in the dark in the matter, I am not justified in giving a decisive opinion, but I will admit that it would not conduce either to her comfort or to the success of her undertaking were we to harass her by interfering in any way with her plan, which, I have no doubt, has been thoroughly thought out before she undertook it. No one but a madman would shout instructions or warnings to a person performing a dangerous feat requiring coolness and presence of mind. Such, I take it, is the scheme, whatever it is, in which she is engaged; and as you are the only one who knows what that scheme is, I must, however reluctantly, abide by your decision. When Miss Covington tells you the conversation that we have had together you will recognize how deeply I am interested in the matter."
Comparatively few of those who nowadays run down to Southend for a breath of fresh air give a thought to the fact that the wide stretch of low country lying between the railroad and the Thames, from Pitsea to Leigh, was at one time, and that not so many centuries back, a mud flat, a continuation of the great line of sand that still, with but a short break here and there, stretches down beyond Yarmouth; still less that, were it not for the watchfulness of those who dwell upon it, it would in a short time revert to its original condition, the country lying below the level of higher water.
Along the whole face of the river run banks—the work, doubtless, of engineers brought over by Dutch William—strong, massive, and stone-faced, as they need be to withstand the rush and fret of the tide and the action of the waves when, as is often the case, the east wind knocks up ridges of short, angry water in Sea Reach. Similarly, the winding creeks are all embanked, but here dams of earth are sufficient to retain within its bounds the sluggish water as it rises and falls. Standing on any of these, the farmhouses and little homesteads lie below, their eaves for the most part level with the top of the bank, though there are a few knolls which rise above the level of the tidal water.
The most conspicuous objects are the brown sails of the barges, which seem to stand up in the midst of the brownish-green fields, the hulls being invisible. This cannot be called marsh land, for the ground is intersected by ditches, having sluices through which they discharge their water at low tide. Very fertile is the land in somespots, notably in Canvey Island, where there are great stretches of wheat and broad meadows deep with rich waving grass; but there are other places where the grass is brown and coarse, showing that, though the surface may be hard and dry, water lies not far below. Here a few cattle gather a scanty living, and the little homesteads are few and far between. Most of the houses are placed near the banks of the creeks. The barges serve as their wagons, and carry their hay up to London and bring down manure and other things required, or carry coal and lime to the wharves of Pitsea.
A rare place was this in the old smuggling days, and indeed until quite lately the trade was carried on, though upon a reduced scale. Vessels drifting slowly up the river would show a light as they passed a barge at anchor or a bawley hanging to its trawl, a light would be shown in answer, and a moment later a boat would row off to the ship, and a score of tubs or a dozen bales of tobacco be quickly transferred, and before morning the contents would be stowed in underground cellars in some of the little farmhouses on the creeks, or be hidden away in the Leigh marshes.
"Will Bill be in to-night with the barge?" a child asked a woman, as he came down from the bank to a not uncomfortable-looking homestead ten yards from its foot.
"I told you that you are to call him uncle," the woman said sharply, but not unkindly. "I have told you so over and over again, child."
"I generally do now, but one forgets sometimes."
"There is never any saying"—the woman went on in reply to his question—"there is never any saying; it all depends on tide and wind. Sometimes they have to anchor and lose a tide, or maybe two. Sometimes they get a cargo directly they get into the Pool or at Rochester; sometimes they wait two or three days. They have been away four days now; they might have been here yesterday, but may not come till to-morrow. One thing is certain, whenever he do come he will want somethingto eat, and I hope that they will bring it with them, for there is nothing here but bread and bacon."
"And do you think that I shall soon go home again, aunt?"
"There is no saying," the woman said evasively. "You are very comfortable here, aint you?"
"Oh, yes! There are the dogs and the ducks and the chickens, and uncle says that he will take me sometimes for a sail with him in the barge."
"Yes, I expect it won't be long first. You know, I used to go with him regular till, as I have told you, my little Billy fell overboard one night, and we knew nothing of it until he was gone, and I have never liked the barge since. Besides, I have plenty to do here. But I am going across to Rochester very soon. It's a good place for shopping, and I want groceries and little things for myself and more things for you. I will take you with me, but you will have to promise to be very good and careful."
"I will be careful," the child said confidently, "and you know that uncle said that when spring comes he will teach me to swim; and I shall like that, and if I tumble overboard it won't matter. He says that when I get a few years older I shall go with him regularly, and learn to steer and to manage the sails. I shall like that; but I should like to go back sometimes to see Hilda and Netta and my grandpapa."
"Well, well, my dear, we will see about it; they can't take you at present. I think that they have gone away traveling, and may not be back for a long time. And mind, you know you are not to talk about them. Just when you are here with me I don't care; but you know uncle does not like it, and if anyone asks, you must say just what he told you, that your father and mother are dead, and that Uncle Bill has took you."
"I shan't forget," the boy said. "I never do talk about it before him; it makes him angry. I don't know why, but it does."
"But he is always kind to you, Jack?"
"Oh, yes, he is very kind, and he often brings me things when he comes back; he brought me my dear little kitten. Pussy, where have you hidden yourself? Puss! puss!" And in answer a little ball of white fur bounded out from behind a chair, and the child was soon engaged in a game of romps with it.
"It is a shame!" the woman said, as she watched them; "I don't mind the other things, but I never liked this. I wonder who the poor little chap is. By the way he talked when he first came, about his home and his nurse and horses and carriages, his friends must be rich people. Bill has never understood why they wanted to get rid of him; but I suppose that he was in somebody's way, and, as he never speaks of his father and mother, but only of those two girls and his grandfather, who seems to have been an invalid, I expect that he must have lost his father and mother before he can remember. Well, he will be right enough here; I should miss him dreadful if he were to go away; he seems to have taken the place of my little Billy. And Bill takes to him, too, wonderfully. He said the other day that when the boy grew up he would buy a barge, a new one of the best kind, and that some day it should be the boy's own. So he won't do so bad, after all."
A stranger would have wondered at the comfort in the interior of the little farmhouse. The land round it was very poor. Three horses—which seemed as if they had nothing to do but to nibble the coarse grass—and a couple of cows wandered about on a few acres of land, inclosed by deep water ditches; a score or two of ducks and geese paddled in the mud in the bottom of the creek at low tide, or swam about in the water when it was up; and a patch of garden ground, attended to chiefly by the woman, surrounded the cottage. But all this would have afforded a scanty living indeed, were it not that the master, Bill Nibson, was the owner of theMary Annbarge, an old craft with a somewhat dilapidated sail, which journeyed up and down the river with more or less regularity, laden, for the most part, with manure, hay,lime, bricks, or coal. This he navigated with the aid of a lad of fourteen, a waif, whose mother, a tramp, had died by the roadside one bitter cold night four years before. Bill had been summoned on the coroner's jury and had offered to take the boy.
"I can do with him on board the barge," he said; "he is only a little nipper now, but in a year or two he will be useful. The boy I have got wants to go to sea, and I shan't be sorry to get rid of him; he is getting too knowing for me altogether."
As no one else wanted the boy he was handed over to Bill, and was now a sharp lad, who, never having been instructed in the niceties of right and wrong, and being especially ignorant that there was any harm in cheating Her Majesty's Customs, was in all things a useful assistant to his master. He had, indeed, very soon imbibed the spirit, not uncommon among the dwellers on the marshes, that if managed without detection, the smuggling of tobacco and spirits was a meritorious action, advantageous to the community at large, and hurting no one except that mysterious and unknown entity, the queen's revenue. He was greatly attached to Bill, and took an occasional thrashing as a matter of course; regarding him as having saved him from the workhouse and having put him in a fair way of making a man of himself.
The next day at twelve o'clock the child, playing on the bank, ran in and reported that Joshua was coming along the bank, and in a few minutes the boy appeared.
"Morning, missis," he said. "Master sent me on to say that the barge got into the haven this morning, and that she will come on with the evening tide. He sent me on with this lump of meat, and these rokers he got from a bawley which came in just as we were getting up sail off Grain Spit. He says he has got a barrel of beer on board, that he will land as he passes. He will be along about nine o'clock. Well, Jack, how are you?"
"I am all right," the child said, "and so is Kitty. Iam glad that you are back. How long are you going to stay?"
"I suppose that it will take us a couple of days to unload. Master is going as usual to hire a couple of men to get the line out, so I shall be over here by breakfast. He says that I may as well do a job of digging in the garden, as he wants to get some things in before we get frosty nights. Have you any message for him, missis?"
"You can tell him he may as well get a dish of eels from one of the Dutchmen there. I suppose there is one in the haven?"
"Two of them, missis; he will be able to get them, for one of them is theMarden, and the skipper has always let master have some, though he won't sell an eel to anyone else."
"Is there any business to be done?" the woman asked significantly.
The boy nodded.
"All right; tell him that I will get the horses in."
The child was put to bed upstairs at seven o'clock, although he in vain petitioned to be allowed to stop up until the barge came along. He already knew, however, by experience, that his request was not likely to be granted, as when the barge came along after dark he was always put to bed, the woman telling him that Bill didn't like him to be up when he came in, as he wanted to have a talk with her in quiet, and to eat his supper in peace.
An hour after dark the woman went out onto the bank and listened. In a quarter of an hour she heard the rattle of a block in the distance. She went down, stirred up the fire, and put on the kettle, and in twenty minutes the barge came along. The boat, instead of towing behind as usual, was alongside.
"You take her on, Joshua," its owner said, as he quietly got into the boat; "run in where the water is deep alongside, a quarter of a mile this side Pitsea. I will come along and get on board there as soon as I have finished this job. Keep a sharp lookout on the banks; some of the coastguardsmen may be about. If they hailyou and ask if I am on board, say I landed as we passed here, to have a cup of tea, and that I shall not be five minutes."
Then he pushed the boat to shore. "Well, Betsy, how are you? I have got twenty kegs here, and five or six hundredweight of tobacco. I will get it up the bank, and you had better stow it away at once; I will lend you a hand as soon as it is all up."
As fast as he could carry the kegs up the banks she slipped slings round them, two at a time, hooked them to a milkmaid's yoke, and went off with them to a shed which served as a stable and cowhouse in the winter. Against this was a rick of hay. Putting the kegs down she returned for more, and by the time that they were all in the stable her husband had finished his share of the work and had carried the heavy bales of tobacco to the shed. The three horses were already there.
"Are you going to take them out at once?"
"No, not until I come back. I must get on board the barge as soon as possible. We will bundle them all in, in case any of those fellows should come along."
Three planks were removed from the side of the shed next to the stack, and an opening was seen. Some turf was taken up and a trapdoor exposed. The kegs and tobacco were speedily carried down into a large cellar, the trapdoor was closed, and the boards placed securely in position and fastened by six long screws. Then they returned to the house. The teapot and cups were on the table, the kettle was boiling, and in two or three minutes they were taking tea. Scarcely had they begun their meal when there was a knock at the door. Bill got up and opened it, and two coastguards entered.
"We saw there was a light burning, and thought that you might be here, Bill. The wind is bitter cold."
"Come in and have a cup of tea or a glass of rum, whichever you like best. As you say, the wind is bitter cold, and I thought that I would land and have a cup of tea. I shall catch the barge up before she gets to Pitsea."
The coastguardsmen accepted the offer of a cup of tea, glancing furtively round the room as they drank it.
"It is good tea."
"'Tis that," Bill said, "and it has never paid duty. I got it from an Indiaman that was on the Nore three weeks ago. She transshipped part of her cargo on my barge and floated next tide. It was one of the best jobs I've had for some time, and stood me in fifty pounds and a pound or two of tea."
"Perhaps a chest of it!" one of the men said with a laugh.
"Well, well, I am not sure that it was not a chest. I like my cup of tea, and so does Betsy; and there is no getting tea like this at Stanford."
They chatted for about ten minutes, when Bill remarked, "I must be going," and they went out together, and taking his place in his boat he rowed up the creek, while the coastguards continued their walk along the bank.
"He is not a bad 'un, Tom," one of them said. "I guess he is like a good many of the others, runs a keg occasionally. However, his place has been searched half a dozen times, and nothing has been found. We have drunk many a glass of ale with him at the 'Lobster Smack' at Hole Haven, and I am sure I don't want to catch him unless there is some information to go on. The barge passed us half an hour ago, and I knew that it was no use looking in her, but of course when the boatswain said this afternoon, 'Just follow that barge when she gets under way, and see if she goes on to Pitsea,' we had to do it; but the boat was late for us where the creek branches off round the island, and before we were across he must have got more than half an hour's start of us. And I am not sorry, Tom. We have got to do our duty, but we don't want to be at war with every good fellow on the marshes."
"Right you are, Dick; besides, they are as slippery as eels. Who can tell what they have got under their lime or manure? Short of unloading it to the bottom therewould be no finding it, if they had anything; and it is a job that I should not care for. Besides, there aint no place to empty it on; and we could not go and chuck a cargo overboard unless we were quite certain that we should find something underneath. As you say, I dare say Bill runs a keg or two now and then, but I don't suppose that he is worse than his neighbors; I have always suspected that it was he who left a keg of whisky at our door last Christmas."
In the meantime Bill had overtaken his barge, and they soon had her alongside of the little wharf at Pitsea.
"Tide is just turning. She will be aground in half an hour," he said. "As soon as you have got these mooring ropes fastened, you had better fry that steak and have your supper. I shall be over by seven o'clock in the morning. If Harvey and Wilson come alongside before that, tell them they can have the job at the usual price, and can set to work without waiting for me. It will be pretty late before I am in bed to-night."
It was over a mile walk back to his cottage. As soon as he arrived he sat down to a hearty supper which his wife had prepared for him. He then got three pack-saddles out of the cellar, put them on the horses, and fastened four kegs on each horse. Tying one behind the other, he started, and in an hour the kegs were stowed in the cellars of four farmers near Stanford. It was midnight before he returned home. At half-past six he was down to breakfast.
"Well, uncle, how are you?" he asked the child, who was already up.
"I am not your uncle," the boy replied; "you are my uncle."
"Ah, well, it's a way of speaking down here. It does not mean that anyone is one's uncle; it is just a way of speaking."
The child nodded. He was learning many things.
"Then it is a way of speaking when I call you uncle?"
"No, no! That is different. A child like you wouldnot call anyone uncle unless he was uncle; while a man my age calls anyone uncle."
"That is funny, isn't it?"
"Well, I suppose, when you think of it, it is; but, as I said, it is a way we have in this part of the country. Well, mother, have you got that fish nearly fried?"
"It will be ready in five minutes. This roker is a very thick one. I put it on as soon as I heard you stirring, and it is not quite ready yet. That was a pretty near escape last night, Bill."
"Yes; but, you see, they can hardly catch us unless they send men down in the afternoon. They cannot get along from the station without passing two or three creeks; and coming along with the tide, especially when there is a breath of wind to help her, we can do it in half the time. You see, I always get the things out from under the cargo and into the boat as we come along, so that the barge shall not be stopped."
"But they might send down a boat from the Thames Haven station, Bill."
"Yes; but then they don't know when the barge is in, or when it is going to start. So we get the best of them in that way. Besides, they have a good bit to go along the river face, and they have to cross a dozen deep cuts to get there. No, I have no fear of them, nor of the others either, as far as that goes. I have more than once had a word dropped, meant to put me on my guard, and instead of landing the things here have dropped them in a deep hole in the creek, where I could pick them up the next night I came in. Things have changed with us for the better, lass. Five years ago we had pretty hard work, with the farm and the old boat, to live at all comfortable; but since I have got into the swim things have changed with us, and I can tell you that I am making money hand over fist. I allow that there is a certain risk in it, but, after all, one likes it all the better for that. If the worst came to the worst they could but confiscate the old barge; if they gave me a heavy fine I could pay it, and if they gave me six months I could work it out, and buy a newbarge and half a dozen farms like this on the day I came out."
"But the other would be more serious, Bill?"
"Well, yes; but I don't see any chance of that being found out. A gent comes to me at a spot we have settled on, say on the road halfway between Pitsea and Stanford; he hands me a box, sometimes two; I puts them on one of the horses, and rides over here with them; then I stows them away in that secret place off the store, where there aint a shadow of a chance of the sharpest-eyed coastguardsman ever finding them. They would be too delighted to light on the spirits and bacca to think of digging up the floor underneath. There they lie, till I take them down to theMarden. They put them into the eel tank, and next morning off she sails."
"But you have had heavy cases brought once or twice?"
"Only once—heavy enough to be troublesome. Ten cases there was then, each as heavy as a man could lift. It took me three journeys with three horses, and I had to dig a big hole in the garden to bury them till theMardenhad got rid of her eels, and was ready to sail again. Yes, that was a heavy job, and I got a couple of hundred pounds for my share of the business. I should not mind having such a job twice a week. A few months of that, and I could buy the biggest farm on this side of Essex—that is to say, if I could make up my mind to cut it and settle down as a farmer."
"You will never do that, Bill; but you might settle down in Rochester, and buy half a dozen barges, with a tip-top one you would sail yourself. You might have a couple of men and a cabin forward, and a nice roomy place for yourself and me aft; and you could just steer when you liked, or sit down and smoke your pipe and watch her going through the fleet as we worked through the swatchway. That would be more your sort, Bill, and mine too. I know you have money enough laid by to get such a barge."
"That is so, Betsy. I allow that I could do that. Ihave been thinking of it for some time, but somehow or other one never works one's self up to the right point to give it all up of a sudden and cut the old place. Well, I suppose one of these days I shall do it, if it is only to please you."
"It would please me, you know, Bill. I don't see no harm in running the kegs or the bacca—it's what the people about here have been doing for hundreds of years—but I don't like this other business. You don't know what is in the cases, and you don't ask, but there aint much difficulty in guessing. And I don't much like this business of the child. I did not like it at all at first; but when I found that he had no father nor mother as he knew of, and so it was certain that no one was breaking their heart about him, I did not mind it; and I have taken to him, and he has pretty nearly forgotten about his home, and is as contented as if he had been here all his life. I have nothing more to say about him, though it is as certain as eggs is eggs that it has been a bad business. The boy has been cheated out of his money, and if his friends ever find him it is a nice row that we shall get into."
"You need not bother yourself about that," the man said; "he aint more likely to be found here than if he was across the seas in Ameriky. We have had him near nine months now, and in another three months, if you were to put him down in front of his own house, he would not know it. Everyone about here believes as he is my nevvy, the son of a brother of yours who died down in the Midlands, and left him motherless. No one asks any questions about him now, no more than they does about Joshua. No, no; we are all right there, missis; and the hundred pounds that we had down with him, and fifty pounds a year till he gets big enough to earn his own grub on the barge, all helps. Anyhow, if something should happen to me before I have made up my mind to quit this, you know where the pot of money is hidden. You can settle in Rochester, and get him some schooling, and then apprentice him to a barge-owner and starthim with a barge of his own as soon as he is out of his time. You bear it in mind that is what I should like done."
"I will mind," she said quietly; "but I am as likely to be carried to the churchyard as you are, and you remember what I should like, and try, Bill, if you give up the water yourself, to see that he is with a man as doesn't drink. Most of the things we hears of—of barges being run down, and of men falling overboard on a dark night—are just drink, and nothing else. You are not a man as drinks yourself; you take your glass when the barge is in the creek, but I have never seen you the worse for liquor since you courted me fifteen years ago, and I tell you there is not a night when you are out on the barge as I don't thank God that it is so. I says to myself, when the wind is blowing on a dark night, 'He is anchored somewheres under a weather shore, and he is snug asleep in his cabin. There is no fear of his driving along through it and carrying on sail; there is no fear of his stumbling as he goes forward and pitching over'; and no one but myself knows what a comfort it is to me. You bring him up in the same way, Bill. You teach him as it is always a good thing to keep from liquor, though a pint with an old mate aint neither here nor there, but that he might almost as well take poison as to drink down in the cabin."
"I will mind, missis; I like the child, and have got it in my mind to bring him up straight, so let us have no more words about it."
Netta had been away three weeks when one morning, just as they were sitting down to breakfast, she suddenly came into the room. With a cry of joy Hilda ran into her arms.
"You wicked, wicked girl!" she exclaimed. "I know that I ought not to speak to you. You don't deserve that I should even look at you, but I cannot help it."
Miss Purcell embraced her niece more soberly, but Hilda saw by the expression of her face that her niece's return relieved her of a burden of anxiety which at times she had had difficulty in concealing.
"In the first place, Netta, before I even give you a cup of tea, tell me if this is a final return, or whether you are going to disappear again."
"That we will decide after you have heard my story," Netta said quietly.
"And have you got any news of Walter?"
"I am not sure; I think so. So you have kept my secret, aunt?"
"I promised that I would, dear, and of course I have kept my word, though it was very difficult to resist Hilda's pleading. Dr. Leeds, too, has been terribly anxious about you, and not a day has passed that he has not run in for a few minutes to learn if there was any news."
"I don't see why he should have known that I have been away."
"Why, my dear," Hilda said, "coming here as often as he does, he naturally inquired where you were, and as I was uncertain how long you would be away, and as he had always been in our counsels, I could hardly keephim in the dark, even had I wished to do so. Now, my dear, let us know all about it; there can be no possible reason for keeping silent any longer."
"Well, Hilda, the whole affair has been very simple, and there was not the least occasion for being anxious. I simply wanted to keep it quiet because I felt that you would raise all sorts of objections to the plan. We had, as you know, thought over a great many methods by which we might overhear a conversation between John Simcoe and the man on Pentonville Hill. But it seemed next to be impossible that it could be managed there. Suddenly the idea came into my brain that, as a servant at Simcoe's lodgings in Jermyn Street, I might have an excellent chance."
Hilda gave an exclamation of horror.
"My dear Netta, you never can really have thought of carrying this out?"
"I not only thought of it, but did it. With a little management the girl there was got hold of, and as it fortunately happened that she did not like London and wanted to take a country situation, there was very little difficulty, and she agreed to introduce me as a friend who was willing to take her place. Of course, it took a few days to make all the arrangements and to get suitable clothes for the place, and these I sent by parcel delivery, and on the morning of the day that the girl was to leave presented myself at the house. The man and his wife were good enough to approve of my appearance. They had, it seemed, three sets of lodgers, one on each floor; the man himself waited upon them, and my work was to do their rooms and keep the house tidy generally."
Again Hilda gave a gasp.
"There was nothing much in that," Netta went on, without heeding her. "I used to do most of the house work when we were in Germany, and I think that I gave every satisfaction. Of course the chief difficulty was about my deafness. I was obliged to explain to them that I was very hard of hearing unless I was directly spoken to. Mr. Johnstone always answered the bellshimself when he was at home. Of course, when he was out it was my duty to do so. When I was downstairs it was simple enough, for I only had to go to the door of the room of which I saw the bell in motion. At first they seemed to think that the difficulty was insuperable; but I believe that in other respects I suited them so well that they decided to make the best of it, and when her husband was out and I was upstairs Mrs. Johnstone took to answering the door bells, or if a lodger rang, which was not very often, for her husband seldom went out unless they were all three away, she would come upstairs and tell me. Johnstone himself said to me one day that I was the best girl he had ever had, and that instead of having to go most carefully over the sitting rooms before the gentlemen came in for breakfast, he found that everything was so perfectly dusted and tidied up that there was really nothing for him to do.
"But oh, Hilda, I never had the slightest idea before how untidy men are! The way they spill their tobacco ash all over the room, and put the ends of their cigars upon mantelpieces, tables, and everywhere else, you would hardly believe it. The ground floor and the second floor were the worst, for they very often had men in of an evening, and the state of the rooms in the morning was something awful. Our man was on the first floor, and did not give anything like so much trouble, for he almost always went out in the evening and never had more than one or two friends in with him. One of these friends was the man we saw with him in the Row, and who, we had no doubt, was an accomplice of his. He came oftener than anyone else, very often coming in to fetch him. As he was always in evening dress I suppose they went to some club or to the theater together. I am bound to say that his appearance is distinctly that of a gentleman.
"I had taken with me two or three things that I foresaw I should want. Among them was an auger, and some corks of a size that would exactly fit the hole that it would make. Simcoe's bedroom communicated with thesitting room, and he always used this door in going from one room to the other; and it was evident that it was only through that that I could get a view of what was going on. I did not see how I could possibly make a hole through the door itself. It was on one side, next to that where the fireplace was, and there was a window directly opposite, and of course a hole would have been noticed immediately. The only place that I could see to make it was through the door frame. Its position was a matter of much calculation, I can assure you. The auger was half an inch bore. I dared not get it larger, and it would have been hopeless to try and see anything with a smaller one, especially as the hole would have to be four or five inches long. As I sometimes went into the room when they were together, either with hot water or grilled bones, or something of that sort, I was able to notice exactly where the chairs were generally placed. Simcoe sat with his back to the bedroom door, and the other man on the other side of the hearthrug, facing him. I, therefore, decided to make the hole on the side nearest to the wall, so that I could see the other man past Simcoe. Of course I wanted the hole to be as low as possible, as it would not be so likely to be noticed as it would were it higher up. I chose a point, therefore, that would come level with my eye when I was kneeling down.
"At about four o'clock in the afternoon they always went out, and from then till six Johnstone also took his airing, and I went upstairs to turn down the beds and tidy up generally. It was very seldom that any of them dined at home; I, therefore, had that two hours to myself. I got the line the hole should go by leaving the door open, fastening a stick to the back of a chair till it was, as nearly as I could judge, the height of the man's face, tying a piece of string to it and bringing it tight to the point where I settled the hole should start, and then marking the line the string made across the frame. Then there was a good deal more calculation as to the side-slant; but ten days ago I boldly set to work and bored the hole. Everything was perfectly right; I could seethe head of the stick, and the circle was large enough for me to get all the man's face in view. Of course I had put a duster on the ground to prevent any chips falling onto the carpet.
"I was a little nervous when I set to work to drill that hole; it was the only time that I felt nervous at all. I had beforehand drilled several holes in the shelves of cupboards, so as to accustom myself to use the auger, and it did not take me many minutes before it came through on the other side. The corks were of two sizes; one fitted tightly into the hole, the other could be drawn in or out with very little difficulty. I had gone out one day and bought some tubes of paint of the colors that I thought would match the graining of the door frame. I also bought a corkscrew that was about an inch and a half shorter than the depth of the hole. It was meant to be used by a cross-piece that went through a hole at the top. I had got this cross-piece out with some trouble, and tied a short loop of string through the hole it had gone through. I put the corkscrew into one of the smaller corks and pushed it through until it was level with the frame on the sitting-room side, and found that by aid of the loop of string I could draw it out easily. Then I put one of the larger corks in at the bedroom side of the hole and pushed it in until it was level with that side. Then I painted the ends of the corks to resemble the graining, and when it was done they could hardly be noticed a couple of feet away.
"I had now nothing to do but to wait until the right moment came. It came last night. The man arrived about seven o'clock. Johnstone was out, and I showed him upstairs. Simcoe was already dressed, and was in the sitting room. I lost no time, but went into the bedroom, where the gas was burning, turned down the bed on the side nearest to the door, and then went round, and with another corkscrew I had ready in my pocket took out the inner cork, got hold of the loop, and pulled the other one out also. Even had I had my hearing, I could have heard nothing of what was said inside, for the doorswere of mahogany, and very well fitted, and Johnstone had said one day that even if a man shouted in one room he would hardly be heard in the next, or on the landing. I pushed a wedge under the door so as to prevent its being opened suddenly. That was the thing that I was most afraid of. I thought that Simcoe could hardly move without coming within my line of sight, and that I should have time to jump up and be busy at the bed before he could open the door. But I was not sure of this, so I used the wedge. If he tried the door and could not open it, he would only suppose that the door had stuck and I could snatch out the wedge and kick it under the bed by the time he made a second effort.
"Kneeling down, I saw to my delight that my calculations had been perfectly right. I could see the man's face well, for the light of the candles fell full upon it. They talked for a time about the club and the men they were going to dine with, and I began to be afraid that there was going to be nothing more, when the man said, 'By the way, Simcoe, I went down to Tilbury yesterday.' What Simcoe said, of course, I could not hear; but the other answered, 'Oh, yes, he is all right, getting quite at home, the man said; and has almost ceased to talk about his friends.' Then I saw him rise, and at once jumped up and went on turning down the bed, lest Simcoe should have forgotten something and come in for it. However, he did not, and two or three minutes later I peeped in again. The room was all dark, and I knew that they had gone. Then I put my corks in again, saw that the paint was all right, and went downstairs. I told Mrs. Johnstone that, if I could be spared, I should like to go out for two or three hours this morning to see a friend in service. It was the time that I could best be spared. I should have finished the sitting rooms by eight o'clock, and as none of the men have breakfast until about eleven, there was plenty of time for me to make the beds after I got back."
Hilda was crying now. Her relief that hearing that Walter was alive and well was unbounded. She hadabsolutely refused to recognize the body found in the canal, but she could not but admit that the probabilities were all against her. It was certain that the clothes were his, the child's age was about the same, the body must have been in the water the right length of time, the only shadow of evidence to support her was the hair. She had taken the trouble to go to two or three workhouses, and found that the coroner's assertion that soft hair when cut quite close will, in a very short time, stand upright, was a correct one. She kept on hoping against hope, but her faith had been yielding, especially since Netta's absence had deprived her of the support that she obtained from her when inclined to look at matters from a dark point of view.
"Oh, Netta," she cried, "how can I thank you enough! How happy the news has made me! And to think that I have been blaming you, while you have been doing all this. You cannot tell what a relief it is to me. I have thought so much of that poor little body, and the dread that it was Walter's after all has been growing upon me. I have scarcely slept for a long time."
"I know, dear. It was because I saw that though you still kept up an appearance of hope, you were really in despair, and could tell from your heavy eyes when you came down of a morning that you had hardly slept, that I made up my mind something must be done. There was no hardship whatever in my acting as a servant for a month or two. I can assure you that I regarded it rather as fun, and was quite proud of the credit that my master gave me. Now, the question is, shall I go back again?"
"Certainly not, Netta. You might be months there without having such a piece of luck again. At any moment you might be caught listening, or they might notice the hole that you made so cleverly. Besides, we have gained a clew now to Walter's hiding place. But even that is as nothing to me in comparison with having learned that he is alive and well, and that he has ceased to fret and is becoming contented in his new home. We can afford to wait now. Sooner or later we are sure tofind him. Before, I pictured him, if still alive, as shut up in some horrible cellar. Now I can be patient. I think that we are sure to find him before long."
"Well, I think, dear," Miss Purcell said quietly, "that we had better ring the bell and have some fresh tea made. Everything is perfectly cold, for it is three-quarters of an hour since it came up."
Hilda rang the bell and gave the necessary orders.
"Let Janet bring the things up, Roberts, and come back yourself when you have given the order. I want to send a line to Dr. Leeds. You will be delighted to hear that Miss Purcell has learned, at least, that Walter is alive and well; but mind," she went on, as the old soldier was about to burst out into exclamations of delight, "you must keep this altogether to yourself. It is quite possible that we have been watched as closely as we have been watching this man, and that he may in some way learn everything that passes here; therefore it must not be whispered outside this room that we have obtained any news."
"I understand, miss. I won't say a word about it downstairs."
Hilda scribbled a line in pencil to the doctor, saying that Netta was back and that she had obtained some news of a favorable description, and that, as she knew that at this hour he could not get away, she would come over with Netta at once to tell him what they had learned, and would be in Harley Street within half an hour of his getting the message.
As soon as they had finished breakfast they drove to the doctor's. They were shown up into the drawing room, where Dr. Leeds joined them almost immediately.
"We are not going to detain you more than two or three minutes," Hilda said, while he shook hands warmly with Netta. "You must come over this evening, and then you shall hear the whole story; but I thought that it was only fair that Netta should have the satisfaction of telling you herself what she had learned."
"It is very little, but so far as it goes it is quitesatisfactory, Dr. Leeds. I heard, or rather I saw, the man we suspected of being Simcoe's accomplice say, 'By the way, I ran down to Tilbury yesterday.' Simcoe then said something, but what I could not tell, as his face was hidden from me, and the man in reply said, 'Oh, yes, he is all right, and has almost ceased to talk about his friends.' Now you must be content with that until this evening."
"I will be content with it," the doctor said, "if you will assure me that you are not going away again. If you will not, I will stop here and hear the whole story, even at the risk of a riot down in my waiting room."
"No, she is not going away, doctor; she had not quite settled about it when she got back this morning, but I settled it for her. I will take care that she does not slip out of my sight till after you have seen her and talked it all over."
"Then the matter is finally settled," Netta said, "for unless I go in half an hour's time I cannot go at all."
"Then I will be patient until this evening."
"Will you come to dinner, doctor?" Hilda said. "I have sent notes off to Mr. Pettigrew and Colonel Bulstrode to ask them to come, as I have news of importance to give them."
"What will they do, Netta, when they find that you do not come back?" Hilda asked as they drove away.
"That has puzzled me a good deal. I quite saw that if I disappeared suddenly they might take it into their heads that something had happened to me, and might go to the police office and say I was missing. But that would not be the worst. Simcoe might guess, when he heard that I had gone without notice and left my things behind me, that I had been put there to watch him. He certainly would not suspect that he could have been overheard, for he must know that it would be quite impossible for any words to be heard through the doors; still, he would be uneasy, and might even have the child moved to some other locality. So I have written a note,which we can talk over when we get in. Of course they may think that I have behaved very badly in throwing them over like this, but it is better that they should do that than they should think there was anything suspicious about it. My wages are due to-morrow; like the girl I succeeded, I was to have eight pounds a year. I have left my box open, so that the mistress can see for herself that there is none of the lodgers' property in it. There are two or three print dresses—I put on my Sunday gown when I came out—and the underclothes are all duly marked Jane Clotworthy."