"Rejoining Mrs. Middlemore, our reporter informed her that he was satisfied that Sophy had heard nothing in the night.
"'Of course she didn't,' said Mrs. Middlemore. 'Once she's in bed she lays like a log.'
"'She's a sharp little thing,' observed our reporter.
"'Sharp ain't the word, sir. What's going to be the end of her is more than I can fathom.'
"'Has she a mother?'
"'No.'
"'Father?'
"'If he can be called one. Drunk half his time, in trouble the other half.'
"'So that poor Sophy has to look after herself?'
"'Pretty well. She does odd jobs, and picks up a bit 'ere and a bit there. When M. Felix first come to live 'ere I'd made up my mind to 'ave 'er altogether with me, though she'd 'ave worrited the life out of me, I know she would; but he wouldn't let me 'ave nobody in the house but 'im, and wouldn't let nobody sleep in it a single night, so I 'ad to disappoint the child. I did take 'er in once or twice when she came round to me almost black and bloo with the way 'er brute of a father had served 'er, but I 'ad to be careful that M. Felix shouldn't see 'er--smuggling 'er into the kitchen when he was away, and letting 'er out very early in the morning--or I should never 'ave 'eard the last of it.'
"'You are the only friend the girl has, it seems?'
"'She ain't got many more.'
"'Mind what I tell you, Mrs. Middlemore,' said our reporter, with the kindest intentions, 'there's capital stuff in Sophy. Now that M. Felix is gone it would be a charity to adopt her, if you haven't any of your own.'
"'I ain't got none of my own,' said Mrs. Middlemore, shaking her head dubiously, 'but since I arksed 'er whether she'd like to live with me, and she said she would, she's got into ways that I don't think I could abide. You see, sir, she wasn't so old then, and I might 'ave moulded her. I don't know as I could do it now.'
"'What ways do you refer to?'
"'Well, sir, I've seen her selling papers in the streets----'
"'That's not a crime,' interposed our reporter; 'especially if she does it for food.'
"'If you won't mind my saying so,' said Mrs. Middlemore, with considerable dignity, 'I consider it low; but that's not so bad as selling matches, which is next door to begging.'
"'But she doesn't beg?'
"'No, I don't think she goes as low as that.'
"'Nor steal?'
"'No,' replied Mrs. Middlemore, with spirit, 'she'll take anything that's give to her, but's as honest as the sun, I'll say that of her.'
"'All that you've told me of Sophy, Mrs. Middlemore, is in her favor, and I have already a sneaking regard for her.'
"'Lord, sir!' exclaimed Mrs. Middlemore, misconstruing the sentiment, 'and you the gentleman that you are!'
"'Yes,' repeated our reporter, complacently, 'a sneaking regard for her. Hawking papers and matches is not the loftiest occupation, but it is a form of commerce; and commerce, my dear madam, has made England what it is.'
"It was not entirely without a selfish motive, although he was favorably disposed toward the poor waif, that our reporter wandered for a few moments from the engrossing subject of M. Felix's disappearance to the less eventful consideration of Sophy's welfare. By one of those processes of intuition which come to observant men by inspiration, as it were, he was impressed with the idea that Sophy might be useful to him and to us in the elucidation of the mystery concerning M. Felix. We will not weaken the interest of what is to follow by divulging whether this idea was or was not justified by results; our readers will be able to judge for themselves later on. His views regarding Sophy had their weight with Mrs. Middlemore.
"'I mean to keep Sophy with me,' said that lady, 'for a little while at all events, and if she'll only keep away from the theaytres I'll do what I can for 'er.'
"'Does she frequent theatres?'
"'Does she?' exclaimed Mrs. Middlemore, and immediately answered herself after a favorite fashion with certain of her class. 'Doesn't she? Why she saves every copper she can get to go to the galleries, and when she ain't got no money she hangs round the stage doors to see the actors and actresses go in and out. I don't believe she could stay away if it was to save her life.'
"'Persons in a much higher social position than ourselves,' said our reporter, turning every point to Sophy's advantage, 'are in the habit of hanging round stage doors. The stage is a great institution, Mrs. Middlemore, greater than ever it was before, and is courted--yes, my dear madam, courted--by the highest as well as the lowest in the land, from the Prince of Wales at the top to poor little Sophy at the bottom. Every fresh thing you tell me of Sophy makes me think better of her. But let us return to M. Felix. He would not allow you to have any person in the house, you say. What was his motive?'
"'I can't say, sir, except that he wanted to keep 'isself to 'isself.'
"'Did you expostulate with him?'
"'Did I what, sir?'
"'Did you tell him you would feel lonely without a companion occasionally?'
"'Not me, sir. M. Felix wasn't the kind of gentleman you could cross. He 'ad a way of speaking, when he was giving orders you couldn't mistake. His word was lore, and he meant it to be. You ain't forgetting, sir, that he was master 'ere?'
"'No, I'm not forgetting that. His orders, then, were to be obeyed without question?'
"'They was, sir. He said to me, "When people don't do as I tell 'em, Mrs. Middlemore, I get rid of 'em."'
"'A very dictatorial gentleman.'
"'Only when he was saying, "This is to be," or, "That is to be." At other times he was as smooth as marble, and always passed a pleasant word.'
"'He had visitors occasionally, I suppose?'
"'Oh, yes, sir, but I scarcely ever sor them. Nearly always he let 'em in and out 'isself.'
"'In a manner of speaking, then, he led a secret life?'
"'Some might call it so. Gentlemen living in chambers do all sorts of things.'
"'So I believe,' said our reporter, dryly.
"'And it ain't for the likes of us to question 'em. We've got our living to make, and if it pays us to be mum, mum we must be.'
"'I understand that. From what I can gather, Mrs. Middlemore, M. Felix had no family?'
"'Not that I know of, sir.'
"'As to his visitors, now, were they mostly ladies or gentlemen?'
"'Mostly ladies, sir.'
"'Have any of them been here to see his body?'
"'Not one, sir.'
"'That is strange. He might almost as well have died on a desert island.'
"'Yes, sir. That's the reason why we've been all at sea what to do. There was nobody to give directions.'
"'It is certainly a perplexing situation, unprecedented in my experience. Should you happen to meet any of the persons who were in the habit of visiting him, would you be able to identify them?'
"'I don't think I should, sir.'
"'Supposing that he came by his death in a violent way--I don't say it is so, because the medical evidence does not favor that conclusion--but supposing that this evidence was misleading, and was proved to be so, there is nobody to take up the matter authoritatively, to take measures, I mean, to bring the guilty party to justice?'
"'Nobody, sir.'
"'Only the police?'
"'Yes, sir, only the police?'
"'And all they have succeeded in doing is to make things uncomfortable for you?'
"'Yes, sir,' sighed Mrs. Middlemore, 'that's all they've done. I said to Mr. Nightingale, "A nice friend you've been," I said. I couldn't 'elp saying it after all I've gone through.'
"'Is it Constable Nightingale you are speaking of?'
"'Yes, it is.'
"'Is he an old friend of yours?'
"'He was on the beat 'ere before Mr. Wigg.'
"'Ah; and that is how you got to know him?'
"'Yes.'
"'He knew M. Felix, probably?'
"'Mr. Felix made a point of being always friendly with the policemen on the beat.'
"'Sensible man. Tipped them, I daresay?'
"'They'd best answer that theirselves. He never givemenothing to give 'em.'
"'What did Constable Nightingale say when you made that remark to him?'
"'Nothing,' replied Mrs. Middlemore, with sudden reserve.
"'Surely he must have made some remark, to the effect that hewasyour friend, or words bearing the same meaning?'
"'He didn't say nothing.'
"Our reporter gave up the point; it was his cue to keep Mrs. Middlemore in a good humor.
"'I'll have one more look in the bedroom,' he said.
"At first his scrutiny was not rewarded by any discovery, but, passing his hand over the pillows on the bed, he felt something hard beneath them, and upon lifting them up he saw a six-chambered revolver, loaded in every barrel.
"'Lord save us!' cried Mrs. Middlemore, starting back.
"'Did you not know it was here?'
"'No, sir, this is the first time I ever saw it. I never knew he kep' one.'
"'Do the police know?'
"'They didn't mention it, sir.'
"'Well, we will leave it where it is. Don't touch it, Mrs. Middlemore; it's loaded.'
"Before he replaced it, however, he made the following note in his pocket-book: 'A Colt's double-action revolver, nickel plated, six shots, No. 819.' And, unseen by Mrs. Middlemore, he scratched on the metal with his penknife the initial F. Then he looked at his watch, and said--
"'It is nearly ten o'clock. My advice now is that you go and give the alarm to the police that the body of M. Felix has vanished.'
"'You'll go along with me, sir?'
"'No, for your sake I had better not be seen. Give me two minutes to get away, and then go for the police at once. I will come and see you again, and help you in every way I can.'
"Shaking her hand, and leaving half a sovereign in it, our reporter, accompanied by Mrs. Middlemore, went to the street door, and left her standing there."
"As was to be expected, the news of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix caused the greatest excitement. In small villages trifling incidents are sufficient to create an interest; in great cities events of magnitude are required to stir the pulses of the people; and in both village and city, to arouse the public from their normal condition of apathy, it is necessary that the incidents must have local color. Soho was sufficiently central, and, it may be added, sufficiently mixed and mysterious in the character of its population, to fulfil this imperative condition of popularity. Every resident in London knows the locality, and is to some extent familiar with it; it is contiguous to the most fashionable thoroughfares; it is within a stone's throw of theatres of magnificent proportions; it gives shelter to foreign princes deposed for a time from their high estate, and to foreign votaries of vice of both sexes who, being outlaws, cannot pursue their infamous courses in their native lands. If we were asked which part of London contains the most varied material for the weaving of modern romance we should unhesitatingly point to the region of Soho. A careless stroller through those thoroughfares little dreams of the strange and wondrous life which beats beneath the apparently placid, the undeniably squalid, aspect of this pregnant locality. The elderly woman, poorly clad and closely veiled, who glides past him is a prominent member of a Royal family who for a long period held the reins of power in one of the greatest European nations; she lives now in a garret upon dry bread and German sausage, and makes her own bed and fire. Yesterday she wore a crown of diamonds, to-day she wears a crown of sorrow. The attenuated man, whose worn-out garments hang loosely upon his spare body, and who is now studyingcarte du jourin the window of a low French restaurant, nervously fumbling at the same moment the few loose coins in his pocket, was, in years gone by, one of the greatest financiers in the world; yesterday he dealt in millions, had scores of carriages and hundreds of servants, paid fabulous prices for rare gems and pictures, and provided funds for mighty wars; to-day he is debating whether he can afford an eighteen-penny dinner. The man with an overhanging forehead, who strides onward with teeth closely set, and the fingers of whose hands are continually clinching and unclinching, is the head of a secret society whose members number hundreds of thousands, and whose deed of blood shall next week convulse the world with horror. We could dwell long upon this fascinating theme, but our business is with M. Felix, and we must not wander from him.
"As we have already stated, we were the first to give the public the intelligence of his strange disappearance, and so intense was the interest the news excited that our printing-machines could not supply one-fourth of the demand for the various editions of our journal. The letters we received upon the subject would form a curious chapter in a new 'Curiosities of Literature.'
"'Dear sir' (wrote one correspondent), 'you speak of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix as an unparalleled incident. Allow me to correct you, and from my own experience to furnish your readers with an identical case. It is now ten years ago since I formed the acquaintance of a gentleman of great attainments and peculiar habits, and whose nationality was always a matter of curiosity with me. Once or twice I delicately approached the subject, but he skilfully evaded it, and I did not feel warranted in pressing it. He was a wonderful chess-player, an accomplished linguist, and his knowledge of the niceties of every new discovery in science was simply marvellous. He had only one failing--he drank and smoked too much. In those days I also was a free liver. We were both single men, I certainly, he presumably; there are topics upon which it is good breeding to preserve a friendly delicacy. We met frequently, and dined together at least twice a week, at my expense. He was a good judge of wine and liquor, and very choice in his food. Being much superior to me in this respect, I invariably left it to him to decide where to dine and to arrange the courses. Perhaps occasionally we took half a bottle of wine too much, but that is neither here nor there. It was no one's business but our own. He took a peculiar interest in all new inventions, and was in the habit of throwing out hints of an extraordinary invention of his own which one day was to revolutionize the world. He told me very little of his discovery of which anyone could make use, but he was so jealous of his secret that he bound me down to solemn secrecy on the point; and I trust I am too much of a gentleman to violate the confidence he reposed in me. I may, however, without scruple, reveal that his invention related to combustion. One evening, when we had arranged to dine as usual together at the Royal, in Regent Street, he confided to me that he was in temporary want of funds, and I lent him all the money I had about me, some fifteen or sixteen pounds. Then we dined, and he paid for the dinner. Over the meal he talked more frequently than he was in the habit of doing of his invention. "It is near completion," he said, "and before I go to bed I intend to make some experiments which I am in hopes will put the finishing touch to it." Then he looked at me searchingly and thoughtfully, and said I might accompany him home if I liked, and assist in the experiments. Burning with curiosity, and delighted at this mark of his confidence, I gladly consented, and we issued forth and proceeded to his rooms, which, singularly enough, were in Glasshouse Street, at no very great distance from the house in which M. Felix lived. On our way he purchased two bottles of brandy, remarking that even when the soul was in its highest state of exaltation the body required nourishment and sustaining. I acquiesced. He lived on the second floor, in two rooms, one his bedroom, the other the room in which he conducted his experiments. There was no evidences of the nature of these experiments visible, and he explained this to me by stating that, distrusting his housekeeper, he kept them in his cupboard. The first thing he did was to light a large fire; then he brought forth a brass frying-pan, upon which he emptied a packet of powder. "You must not be frightened at what I am about to do," he said. "There is no very great danger in it, but it needs courage." Being already primed with the wine we had at dinner, and with three glasses of the brandy he had purchased, I told him I was prepared for anything. Then he informed me that his experiments must be made without light from candle or lamp; so that, with the exception of the fire, we were in darkness. Then he put the brass frying-pan on the fire, and a blue vapor floated through the room. I felt a little nervous, but I would not confess it, and I helped myself to another glass of brandy, and puffed away at a very large and very strong cigar with which he presented me. He bade me sit in a particular chair by a little table (upon which he considerately placed the two bottles of brandy, one by this time half empty), and he drew around me upon the floor, which was destitute of carpet, a circle with a piece of billiard chalk, and said that as long as I did not move outside that charmed circle I should be safe. "Help yourself to some more brandy," he said, "and do not be frightened." I obeyed him as to the brandy, but I must confess I was in great trepidation, more especially as the dim objects in the room appeared to be going round and round. He threw some more powder into the brass frying-pan, and this time the vapor was green. He then asked me if I had anything in the shape of metal upon my person, and I answered yes, of course; upon which he stated that I might be in danger unless I divested myself of them, as he was about to do. At a little distance from me, between me and the fire, he drew upon the floor a smaller circle with his piece of billiard chalk, and within it placed a trinket or two of his own. I handed him my gold watch and chain, my diamond ring, my pearl and ruby pin, and a valuable charm of gold which I kept in my pocket for luck. These he placed with his own trinkets within the smaller circle, and said that now no harm could befall me. The objects in the room went round more and more as he muttered some cabalistic words, and to prevent myself from being overcome by terror I took some more brandy. Then he threw about half a dozen little packets of powder into the fire, one after another, and all sorts of colors appeared, and filled the room with a peculiar smell, which so affected me that I helped myself to brandy. I must not forget to mention that he had locked the door and put the key in his pocket. "If what I am doing alarms you," he said, "you may close your eyes. You have great courage, and to prove my friendship for you I shall present you with half the profits of my invention." I tried to thank him, but to my surprise my words were not very clearly spoken. Presently my eyes began to close, and I fell asleep. When I awoke the room was in darkness. I called to my friend, but he did not answer me. Fearful lest he himself should have fallen a victim to his hazardous experiments, I rose unsteadily to my feet and felt around till my hands reached the door, which, of course, was locked. Luckily I had in my pocket a box of matches, and striking one I lit the candle. My friend was gone; I was alone in the room; but upon the floor was a small heap of ashes. Not only was my poor friend gone, but all his trinkets as well as my own were also gone. But there upon the floor was the fatal heap of ashes. I could arrive at but one conclusion, namely, that the combustion which was the kernel of his great invention had reduced him to ashes and destroyed him. There could be no other explanation of the extraordinary occurrence, because the door was still locked. Fearful lest I might be accused of his death, I forced the door open and fled, and from that day to this the affair has remained wrapped in mystery. This is the first time I have mentioned it, and I do so now in the interests of justice, lest some unfortunate person should be accused, as I might have been in the case of my friend, of spiriting M. Felix away. May not his disappearance be set down to combustion? Are there any charred marks upon the floor of the room where his body lay? Were any ashes left? Was he given to dangerous experiments? My own experiences may lead you, sir, to the proper solution of the mystery which hangs around his fate. I shall follow the further developments of the case of M. Felix with interest, and am, Yours, etc.'
"Another correspondent wrote:
"'Sir--I am a Spiritualist, and I possess the power of summoning from the Caverns of the Unseen and Unknown the spirits of any individual upon whom I may call. There is but one way of arriving at the truth of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix, and I offer to you the exclusive privilege of revealing this truth to an anxious and eager public. My fee will be five guineas. Upon your remitting to me this sum I undertake to summon the spirit of M. Felix, and to ascertain from his own lips what has become of his body. The power I possess is worth considerably more than the sum I name, and you, with this exclusive information in your possession, will obtain an advertisement for your valued newspaper which you could not otherwise obtain for five hundred times the amount. I enclose you my name and address, which you may or may not publish as you please, and upon the receipt of the five guineas I will set to work at once. If you decline my offer the disappearance of this particular body will forever remain a mystery. I urge you, in your own interests, not to neglect this opportunity.
"Another correspondent wrote:
"'Honored Sir--I have been reading all about M. Felix, and now comes the cruel news of his disappearance. Just as I was going to see his body and identify it! Just as I was going to realize a life-long dream! Will you allow me to explain, and will you render an inestimable service to a poor widow? I feel that you will, for you have a heart. Thirty-two years ago my husband left me suddenly. We were having tea, and in the middle of it he got up and said, "I'm off, and you'll never see me again." We had had a dispute about something (I beg you not ask me what; it was a private matter), when he acted thus. He was a most overbearing man, and I had enough to do to bear with him. He left the house there and then, and I have never set eyes on him since. His name was not Felix, but are you sure that was M. Felix's proper name. I advertised for him, and said all would be forgiven and forgotten, but he didn't turn up. I heard he had gone to Australia, and no doubt he made his fortune there, and came home to England to enjoy it; and ashewas a man who never forgot and never forgave, he took the name? of Felix, and lived the lonely life he did. It was only yesterday the idea flashed across me that he was my long lost husband, and that, if he did not make a will disinheriting me, his lawful wife, his fortune belongs to me by every legal and moral right. I would put two or three questions to you, sir, to you who are always ready to help the oppressed. Did the supposed M. Felix make a will? If he did, where is it? Is there any portrait of him extant? I have a portrait of my poor husband--alas! much faded--but it stands to reason that it must differ considerably from the late portraits taken of the deceased. Show me M. Felix's portrait and I am ready to swear to my husband. I put only one more question. In the absence of any evidence whatever, and failing the discovery of the deceased's mortal remains, is it not competent for me to make oath that he was my husband, and thus establish my claim to any property he may have left behind him. In deep grief, I am, honored sir, your obliged and obedient servant, A LONELY WIDOW.'
"We could fill pages with letters of this description, but the three we have given are a sufficient indication of the interest excited by the incident. Among all these letters there was only one which offered any suggestion likely to be of practical value, and that was the letter we have printed, signed 'A LONELY WIDOW.' Her interesting hypothesis that M. Felix was her long lost husband was, of course, ridiculous, but she made mention of two subjects worthy of consideration. The first was did M. Felix make a will; the second, was there any portrait of him extant. If a will were in existence, it would probably be in the care of a firm of lawyers who could have no good reason for keeping it in the background. We set to work at once upon this trail, but it led to nothing. No lawyers were found in possession of such a document, and it was not forthcoming from other quarters. Nor were we more successful with respect to a portrait of M. Felix. Mrs. Middlemore had never seen one, and a private search through his rooms was futile. Indeed, it is a further proof of the strange secrecy in which M. Felix's life was conducted that not a document or written paper of any description was discovered in his apartments, not even a letter. Some important statements upon this head will be presented further on.
"In pursuance of the advice our reporter gave Mrs. Middlemore, she communicated to the police the fact of the disappearance of the body of M. Felix. There the matter rested, and would have been likely to rest but for the initiatory steps we had already taken to throw a light upon the mystery. It is all very well to say that nobody's business is everybody's business; it is not the case. People talked and wrote letters, but we acted. It must be admitted that the police were not in a position to move actively in the affair. No definite charge had been offered for their investigation; no person was accused of a crime; it had not even been proved that a crime had been committed. Conjecture was theirs, and that was all. The law cannot move, cannot act upon conjecture; facts of a crime, or even of a supposed crime, are necessary before the administration of justice can be called upon to adjudicate. Suggestions were thrown out as to the advisability of offering a reward for the discovery of the body, but who was to offer it? Even in the case of a deliberate and ascertained murder where the criminal is at large, the Government is notoriously slow in issuing such a proclamation, and the full weight of public opinion has frequently failed in inducing the authorities to offer a reward. It was not, therefore, to be expected that they would do so in this instance. Meanwhile there was one feature in the case which we desire to emphasize, and of which we never lost sight. Between the hours of twelve and one o'clock on the night of the 16th-17th January a man with a red scarf round his neck was seen to issue from the house in Gerard Street, in which M. Felix resided. The man still remained undiscovered. It matters not who saw him, whether Mrs. Middlemore, or Constables Wigg or Nightingale, or all three together. The fact seemed to be established that he had been in the house for some purpose, and had been seen to issue from it.
"Where was that man, and what motive had he for not coming forward?"
"On the evening of the 19th our reporter paid a visit to Mrs. Middlemore. Sophy opened the street door for him.
"'Hallo, old 'un,' said the girl, 'it's you, is it?'
"'Yes, Sophy,' said our reporter, 'here I am again.'
"'As large as life,' remarked Sophy, vivaciously, 'and twice as--no, I won't say that; you ain't arf a bad sort. What's yer little game this time, old 'un?'
"'Is Mrs. Middlemore in?' asked our reporter.
"'Yes, aunt's at 'ome. Do you want to see 'er?'
"'That's what I've come for, Sophy.'
"'Who's that, Sophy?' cried Mrs. Middlemore, from the bottom of the basement stairs.
"'It's the old 'un, aunt,' screamed Sophy.
"'Don't be absurd,' said our reporter, pinching Sophy's cheek. 'It is I, Mrs. Middlemore, the reporter from theEvening Moon.'
"'Come down, sir,' cried Mrs. Middlemore, 'if come you must. Don't stop talking to that 'uzzy.'
"Sophy put her tongue in her cheek, and whispering, 'Ain't she a treat?' preceded our reporter to the kitchen.
"'Good-evening, Mrs. Middlemore,' said our reporter.
"'Good-evening, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, 'Sophy, 'ave you shut the street door tight?'
"'As tight as a drum,' replied Sophy.
"'Mrs. Middlemore sank into a chair with a heavy sigh, and our reporter took a seat opposite her. There was a jug of beer on the table.
"'Will you 'ave a glass, sir?' asked Mrs. Middlemore, hospitably.
"'No, thank you; I have just dined, and I thought I would come and have a chat with you in a general way.'
"'Thank 'eaven it's about nothing particular,' said Mrs. Middlemore, in a tone of manifest relief.
"'It may lead to something particular,' observed our reporter, genially. 'We're only on the threshold as yet.'
"'Stop a bit, sir, please. Sophy!'
"'Yes, aunty dear,' responded the girl, in a tone of simulated sweetness.
"'If I let you go out for a walk, will you come back in arf an hour?'
"Sophy hesitated. Between her longing for a run in the streets and her longing to hear what our reporter had to say, she felt herself in a difficulty.
"'Well, now,' exclaimed Mrs. Middlemore, sharply.
"'Oh, aunty dear,' said Sophy, pressing the bosom of her frock, and pretending to be greatly startled at her aunt's sharp voice, you send my 'eart into my mouth.'
"'Will you promise not to stop out longer than an hour?'
"Mrs. Middlemore's anxiety to get rid of her decided the girl. For once she would forego the temptations of the streets.
"'Don't want to go out,' she said, shortly.
"'But you've got to go,' said Mrs. Middlemore, resenting this opposition to her authority, 'or I'll bundle you out for good, neck and crop. Promise, like a good girl.'
"'Shan't promise,' said Sophy, rebelliously.
"'Oh, dear, oh, dear,' moaned Mrs. Middlemore. 'What am I to do with her? And after all the nice things you said of her this morning, sir?'
"'Did you say nice things of me?' asked Sophy, of our reporter.
"'I did, Sophy,' he replied, 'and I'm sure you will do as your aunt tells you.'
"'That settles it. I'll go. 'Ow long for, aunty?'
"'An hour. Not a minute more.'
"'I say'--to our reporter--'you might lend us yer watch. Then I shouldn't make any mistake.'
"'Get along with you,' said our reporter, laughing. 'The shops are full of clocks.'
"'Thank yer for nothing,' said Sophy, proceeding to array herself. Spitting on the palm of her hand, she made a pretence of smoothing her hair. Then she looked at herself in a piece of looking-glass that was hanging on the wall, and turned her head this way and that, smirking most comically. Then she shook out her skirts, and looked over her shoulder to see that they hung becomingly. Then she tied a piece of string round one yawning boot. Then she put on her head something in straw that once might have been called a hat, but which had long since forfeited all claims to respectability. Then she fished out a poor little scarf, about six inches square, and pinned it round her shoulders with a coquettishness not devoid of grace. Her toilette completed, she asked--
"'Will I do?'
"'Very nicely, Sophy,' said our reporter. But although he spoke gayly he was stirred by a certain pity for this little waif, who was so conspicuously animated by a spirit to make the best of things--a spirit which might with advantage be emulated by her betters--and who made a joke even of her poverty and rags.
"'Much obliged,' said Sophy. 'Give us a kiss, aunty. Now I'm off.'
"And off she was, but not without saluting our reporter with an elaborate courtesy.
"Mrs. Middlemore waited till she heard the street-door slam, and then said,
"'Did you ever see the likes of her?'
"'I declare to you, my dear madam,' said our reporter, 'that the more I see of Sophy the more I like her. What have the police done? Anything?'
"'Nothing, sir. I went and told 'em what 'ad 'appened, and two policemen came and looked at the bed, looked under it, looked in every room as you said they would, looked at me, and went away.'
"'And they have not been here again?'
"'No, sir.'
"'Mrs. Middlemore, may I have another peep in M. Felix's rooms?'
"'Certainly, sir.'
"They went up together, Mrs. Middlemore breathing heavily, perfuming the air with a flavor of beer. There was an escritoire in the sitting-room, and our reporter examined it.
"'I'll tell you what I'm looking for,' he said. 'I see pens, ink, and paper, denoting that M. Felix was occasionally in the habit of using them, but there is not a scrap of paper about with his writing on it. There is not even a monogram on the note paper. If we could find something, it might furnish a clue. He received letters, I suppose?'
"'Oh, yes, sir.'
"'And the presumption is that he answered them. Did you ever post any of his letters?'
"'Never once, sir.'
"'Here is a waste-paper basket; there must have been in it, at odd times, scraps of the letters he received and spoilt sheets of his own. Has your dust bin been emptied this week?'
"'No, sir, but you wouldn't find anything of Mr. Felix's in it. It was one of his orders that whatever was in the waste-paper basket should be burnt here in his own fireplace. I used to sweep this room in the morning when he was in bed, and he always said I did my work so quietly that he was never disturbed by any noise.'
"'Look round the room, Mrs. Middlemore, and see if you miss anything. You would be pretty well acquainted with everything in it. What is the meaning of that gasp? Youdomiss something?'
"'There was another desk, sir, and I don't see it.'
"'What kind of desk?'
"'A small one, sir, that used to smell quite nice.'
"'Ah, made of cedar wood, no doubt. Did M. Felix keep his papers in this desk?'
"'Some of his papers, sir.'
"'How do you know that?'
"'I've come into the room when he's rung for me, and saw the desk open.'
"'Ocular proof, Mrs. Middlemore.'
"'What sort's that, sir?'
"'Visible to the eye--youreye, my dear madam.'
"'Yes, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, dubiously.
"'Now, Mrs. Middlemore, can you inform me whether those papers you saw in the missing desk were private papers?'
"'It ain't possible for me to say, sir.'
"'Neither can you say, I suppose, whether M. Felix set any particular store upon them?'
"'Well, sir, now you bring me to it, things come to my mind.'
"'Exactly.'
"'Whenever I come into the room,' said Mrs. Middlemore, 'and the desk was open, Mr. Felix used to shut it up quick.'
"'Lest you should see them too closely?'
"'I'm sure I shouldn't 'ave made no use of 'em; least of all, bad use.'
"'That is not the point. He closed the desk quickly when another person was by, with an evident wish to keep all possible knowledge of them to himself.'
"'It looks like that. Youdopush a thing close.'
"Our reporter accepted this as a compliment, and continued:
"'That appears to establish the fact that this desk--which probably was brought from India, Mrs. Middlemore--contained M. Felix's private papers?'
"'It do, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, admiringly.
"'And, therefore, papers of importance. The desk was inlaid with silver, Mrs. Middlemore.'
"'Lor', sir!' exclaimed Mrs. Middlemore, doubtless regarding our reporter as a man who dealt in enchantments. 'How did you find out that?'
"'It was, was it not?'
"'Yes, sir, it was.'
"'When M. Felix had visitors, was this desk ever allowed to lie carelessly about?'
"'No, sir. At them times he used to keep it in 'is bedroom, on a little table by the side of 'is bed.'
"'Let us look through the bedroom, and see if it is there.'
"They searched the bedroom thoroughly, without finding it.
"'It is undoubtedly gone,' said our reporter.
"'It do look like it, sir.'
"'Mrs. Middlemore, when M. Felix was found dead in his chair, was this desk in either of the rooms?'
"'I didn't see it, sir.'
"'You could not swear it was not here?'
"'I shouldn't like to, sir.'
"'The probability, however, is that it had gone when the door was forced open?'
"'Yes, sir.'
"'The police could scarcely take it away without your knowledge?'
"'They'd 'ave been clever to do it.'
"'Had they done so, they would certainly have been exceeding their duties. Now, do not answer the questions I put to you too quickly. Were you in these rooms on the day before M. Felix's death?'
"'I were, sir.'
"'Was the desk here then?'
"'It were; I can swear to that.'
"'You saw it with your own eyes?'
"'I couldn't see it with no others,' replied Mrs. Middlemore, smirking, in approval of her small wit.
"'Of course, you could not. Is there any particular reason why you are so positive of this?'
"'Well, sir, Mr. Felix wanted something, and rung for me; and when I come into the room he was sitting at this table with the desk open before him, and all the papers scattered about.'
"'That fixes it. Did he seem to be searching for, or examining with more than usual interest, any special document?'
"'He seemed flustered and excited, sir. I can't say no more than that.'
"'He was not generally of an excitable temperament?'
"'Not at all. He was easy going, and always with a pleasant word.'
"'A model man. I observe that you call him Mr. and not Monsieur?'
"'I can't bring myself to foreign languages, sir. My tongue gits into a knot.'
"'Hewasa foreigner, I suppose?'
"'I suppose so, sir. I ain't the best of judges.'
"'A Frenchman?'
"'So I thought, sir.'
"'Or an Italian?'
"'Perhaps, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, wavering.
"'Or a Spaniard?'
"'Perhaps, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, growing more undecided.
"'Or a Russian?'
"'HowcanI say, sir?' said Mrs. Middlemore, now quite at sea as to M. Felix's nationality.
"'He spoke the English language well?'
"'As well as me, sir.'
"'So that, after all, he might have been an Englishman?'
"'He might,' said Mrs. Middlemore, declining to commit herself, 'and he mightn't.'
"Our reporter did not press the point, as to which Mrs. Middlemore had evidently disclosed all she knew.
"'If we could find the missing desk, Mrs. Middlemore, it might throw a light upon the mystery.'
"Again did Mrs. Middlemore decline to commit herself; again did she answer, 'It might, and it mightn't, sir.'
"'I presume there was nothing in the desk that attracted your attention besides the papers?'
"'Only one thing, sir--a curious sort of knife.'
"'A paper knife, most likely.'
"'It was more like a dagger,' said Mrs. Middlemore. 'It 'ad a 'andle like a twisted snake, with a' open mouth and a colored stone in its eye. It 'ad a sharp pint, too?'
"'How did you become aware of that? Did you ever try it?'
"'Not me, sir; but once I come in when Mr. Felix 'ad it in 'is 'and, playing with it, and all at once he dropped it like a 'ot pertater. He pricked 'isself with it, and there was blood on 'is 'and.'
"'You have furnished me with a valuable piece of evidence, Mrs. Middlemore. Papers are easily burnt, and a desk broken up and destroyed. It would not be so easy to get rid of that knife, which, from your description, must be a foreign dagger, and the identification of which would be a simple matter. For instance, you could swear to it, and so could I, who have never seen it.'
"'Anybody could swear to it, sir; it couldn't be mistook.'
"'Did M. Felix keep this dagger always in his desk?'
"'I should say he did, sir. I never saw it laying about loose, and never saw it at all unless the desk was open.'
"'Did you see it on the last occasion you saw the desk open, a few hours before M. Felix's death?'
"'Yes, sir, it was among 'is papers.'
"'Have you any suspicion, Mrs. Middlemore, who at this present moment has possession of the desk and the dagger?'
"'Not the least, sir. 'Ave you?'
"'I have. A suspicion amounting to a certainty. Have you forgotten the man with a red handkerchief round his neck who escaped from the house on the night of the eventful discovery?'
"'I'm not likely to forget 'im,' said Mrs. Middlemore, and then added, in an excited tone, 'do you think it was 'im as took it?'
"'Him, and no other. Now we arrive at the motive of his visit; it was robbery. Not a vulgar robbery such as an ordinary thief would have committed, but one of a particular nature, and committed with a knowledge that M. Felix's Indian desk contained a secret or secrets of value, which no doubt he could turn to good account. We are getting on, Mrs. Middlemore, we are getting on,' said our reporter, rubbing his hands in satisfaction. 'In these affairs there is nothing like patience.'
"'You're as good as a detective, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, 'and you've got the patience of Job. You won't mind my saying that I've thought lots of your questions foolish, and only put for the sake of saying something. I don't think so now, sir.'
"'Thank you for the compliment. I assure you I have not asked you one idle question. Recall to mind whether the man with the red handkerchief round his neck carried anything away with him that looked like a desk as he escaped from the house.'
"'I don't believe, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, with evident reluctance, 'as that will ever be known.'
"'Oh, yes, it will. Answer my question.'
"'I didn't notice nothing,' replied Mrs. Middlemore.
"We pause a moment here to observe that it was these reserved replies, when any question relating to this man was asked, as well as the conflicting testimony of the constables Wigg and Nightingale, that led us to the conclusion, already recorded, that the precise truth was not revealed as to which one of the three witnesses actually saw the man. Having committed themselves to a certain statement for the purpose of exonerating the constables from official blame, they could not afterward contradict themselves, because such a contradiction would have thrown grave doubt upon the whole of their evidence.
"'He could not,' said our reporter, 'very well have carried away an article of this description without its being noticed by any one who saw him.'
"'Ain't it excusable, sir,' observed Mrs. Middlemore, nervously, 'when you think of the storm and the confusion we was in?'
"'Well, perhaps, but it is a pity we cannot obtain definite information on the point. Isn't that a knock at the street door?'
"'Yes, sir,' said Mrs. Middlemore, making no attempt to move from the room.
"'You had better go down and see who it is. I will remain here. There is really nothing to be frightened at. It might be Sophy come back.'
"At this suggestion Mrs. Middlemore left the room, and went to the street door. Being alone, our reporter looked about him, and almost immediately made an important discovery. Against the wall, on the right hand side of the door as he entered, stood a massive sideboard, a very handsome piece of furniture. The lower part of this sideboard was close against the waistcoat, above which there was a space between the back of the sideboard and the wall of about an inch in width. Happening to glance at the back of the sideboard, the light of the candle which our reporter held in his hand fell upon something bright. Stooping, he drew the object out, and was excited to find it was the identical dagger about which he and Mrs. Middlemore had been conversing. There could not be the possibility of a mistake. Its handle, as Mrs. Middlemore had described, resembled a twisted snake; the mouth was open, and in its head was a ruby to represent an eye. A dangerous instrument, with a very sharp point, the metal of which it was composed being bright steel. But it was not the peculiar shape of the handle, nor the bright steel of the blade, nor the ruby eye, which excited our reporter. It was the fact that there was rust upon the blade, and that this rust was caused by blood, of which there were light stains plainly visible on the handle of the dagger."