“Annie, my child, don’t you think you had better give up this vain chase? You are looking ill and worried. The case makes no real progress, in spite of all our exertions, and you are wearing your life away for nothing.”
“For nothing, auntie? Is Harley’s rescue nothing? I’m ashamed to hear you speak like that. It’s a good thing Mrs. Riddell has not come downstairs yet. She would be astonished to find you turning traitor.”
“I have heard some people say, my dear, that you have a real nasty temper when you like, and I am bound to admit that they are not far wrong, for your last sentence was thoroughly ill-natured. As you know, however, I am quite ready to make allowances, and I repeat that you are not reaping an equivalent success for all your exertions.”
“And what would you have me do? Leave Harley to his fate, without another effort to save him?”
“By no means. I am as anxious as ever that he should be helped. But I think you will work more efficiently if you take things quietly for a while, and resume operations after your inactivity has lulled all suspicion.”
“You mean well, auntie; but I should die if I didn’t work in some way or other for Harley’s benefit. So far all my efforts have failed, but I don’t mean to give up hope, for Fate cannot always set her signals dead against us.”
The above conversation between Miss Cory and her niece will serve to show that poor Harley Riddell, while possessing friends who were as firmly convinced of his innocence as ever, was in danger of having his prospects jeopardised by the paralysing influence of baffled efforts. Annie was the only one whom disappointment did not seem to daunt, and, with her, failure was but a stimulus to renewed effort. The long-drawn-out agony of her lover’s unjustified incarceration was ever before her eyes, and she would have deemed herself guilty of a crime had she resigned herself to the passive inactivity which to others seemed the only course left her.
“Are you going out this morning?” questioned Miss Margaret, as she carefully examined a hole in the damask tablecloth she was about to darn.
“Yes. I have a little business to transact. Tell father I won’t be long, for, if I am, I shall have been unexpectedly detained.”
Presently our heroine, who to the ordinary passer-by looked a rather handsome young fellow, with short, dark hair, bright dark blue eyes, and a dark moustache, of a shape which suited his light form and clearly-cut features to perfection, was walking down the street in a westerly direction at a rapid pace.
Half an hour later this same young gentleman was to be seen talking to an elderly postman, in a neighbourhoodwhich, for the sake of the aforementioned postman I had better not indicate too closely. Suffice it to say that his round embraced the residence of Mr. David Stavanger, who, with his family, was now back in London.
“Have you anything yet for me?” was the first inquiry addressed to the postman, an inquiry, moreover, which pointed to a little previous collusion between the two innocent-looking individuals.
“I believe I have, at last, sir,” was the answer, “I had an extra lot of letters this morning, and very near forgot all about you. In fact, I was just putting three letters in the letter-box of Number Thirty-nine when I caught sight of a foreign stamp, and stuck to the letter it was on, just in time. Is this anything in your line, sir?”
Saying this, the postman handed a letter to “Mr. Bootle,” which the latter seized with avidity, and examined eagerly. The scrutiny appeared to more than satisfy him. He was positively jubilant, for the missive bore a Spanish postmark, and was in the handwriting which had become quite familiar to the pseudo governess of Fanny Stavanger.
“I believe this is the very thing I want. Wait a moment until I open it, so that I may know whether I need your services any more for the present or not. There! you see there is no cheque or valuable paper of any description in this envelope. It is, as I told you, a letter only that I wished to intercept, and there will be no inquiry about it, I assure you, as the writer is a fugitive from justice, who is only too anxious to keep dark. Yes, this tells me all I want to know. This very night I set off to catch my man, and here is the ten-pound note I promised you.”
“If you have gold about you it would suit me better,sir. Ten pounds is a lot for a poor chap like me to have, and folks might get suspicious if I showed a note for that amount.”
“Perhaps you don’t feel sure that the note is genuine. I have no gold with me. But if you object to the bank note, I will give you a cheque on the National and Provincial Bank.”
“Oh, it’s all right, sir. I’ll take your word for it. All the same, if you don’t mind, I’ll follow you till we get to the bank. Then you can go inside with me, and change it.”
It was evident that the postman distrusted him. But Mr. Bootle was too delighted with the prize he had obtained to be very thin-skinned about this stranger’s opinion. In due time the postman received £10 in gold as payment for his breach of confidence, and went on his way rejoicing, wishing for a speedy opportunity of doing another such profitable day’s work.
As for Mr. Ernest Bootle, he went on his way rejoicing, too, and feeling not the slightest qualm of conscience at what he had done, since it was all in the cause of right and justice. The precious letter was hugged very closely during the journey home, and then, in the privacy of Mr. Bootle’s own room, it was re-read.
For the benefit of the reader we will transcribe its contents here:—
“Lina, Spain.
“My Dear Father,—I am still inclined to stop in this place for a while. Nobody has the slightest suspicion that I am not abonâ fideEnglish agent and that my name is not Gregory Staines. You still urge me to come home.I think your advice unwise, for I am sure that girl will leave no stone unturned to find me, and arrest would be very distasteful to me. I am very much better as I am. I live in comfort, have no tiresome business restrictions, and, so far, have won so much in an English gaming-house here that it has not been necessary to encroach on the money I have realised. You need not imagine that I am careless, or that I am courting recognition. Even if anyone who knew me was to come here, I am too well disguised to be identified, and even if identification were possible, it would be useless, as I am quite safe in Spanish territory. And I am not staying at an hotel either, but have taken lodgings in a quiet, respectable neighbourhood, with a good-looking young English widow, who seems inclined to be sweet on me. If I find that she has any money put by I may perhaps marry her, and settle down here. I don’t care much for swell society, so, if I can be made comfortable when at home, and I do not run out of spending money abroad, I shan’t need to grumble. In any case, I mean to give England a wide berth while that confounded woman is knocking around. I wish she would break her neck.”
“No, I won’t break my neck,” said the individual to whom this pious wish applied. “But I’m hoping, after all, to stop your gallop, Mr. Stavanger, since you have so kindly put your new address in this letter; and the good-looking widow must be cured of her folly, too. I daresay you do feel yourself tolerably safe, and you are evidently free from qualms of conscience also. The latter, no doubt, will make themselves felt when you are brought to book for your crimes. Then you will, no doubt, be a patternof pious repentance, since the gist of repentance, in convicted criminals, is to be measured by the poignancy of their regret at being found out. The exceptions to this rule are the very, very few who voluntarily own their culpability and surrender themselves to justice. As you are not likely to prove a voluntary repentant, I must force your hand. And now for my immediate plans.”
The result of the deliberations in which Mr. Bootle now indulged will be apparent in a letter which the Rev. Alexander Bootle, otherwise Mr. Cory, read up to his sister, and to Mrs. Riddell the same evening. Said letter merely informed them that Annie was now gone to carry out the plan at which she had hinted some days ago; that she was sanguine of success; that she wished her departure from home kept as quiet as possible; that she had, according to an understanding between them, drawn as much money as she thought might be needed for the enterprise she had in hand; and that they must not feel uneasy if they did not hear from her for some time, as she did not wish to risk the failure of her enterprise by allowing even her nearest and dearest to know of her whereabouts.
“I hope Annie will not plunge into any foolish risks,” said Miss Margaret, anxiously.
“She is too sensible to do that,” Mrs. Riddell remarked. “Still, she has courage surpassing that of 99 out of every 100 women, and would think little of what would scare others.”
“And her very pluck will carry her safely through dangers that another woman would succumb to. I think Harley is lucky in having won so devoted a girl. Forshe will never relax her efforts, and I begin to be imbued with her faith in ultimate success.”
“So do I,” added Mr. Cory. “All the same, I wish she had taken us into her confidence. The child is only twenty, and has never been entirely thrown on her own resources before. Suppose she were to fall into the hands of swindlers, and be robbed of the money she has with her? All sorts of evils might happen before she could communicate with us.”
“John, I’m surprised at you. Annie is too much in earnest, and at the same time too wary, to play into the hands of the enemy. You don’t like the notion of her pursuing her investigations alone. After all, it is the best thing she can do; for you must admit that neither you nor the detective have been much use in the case.”
“That was due to adverse circumstances, not to our want of penetration.”
“I am willing to grant that; but I have no doubt that Annie is actuated by an idea that she is less likely to put Stavanger on his guard if alone than if accompanied by anyone else. For my part I have resolved not to be uneasy about her. Have you heard anything of what the Stavangers are doing just now?”
“Jogtrotting, as per usual, I suppose, except that the elder daughter is to be married soon. I am not sure that it is not to-day.”
“I’m sorry for the man who marries into that family. But, of course, we have no grounds for warning him. And now about Harley. It is wonderful how he keeps his health. Oh, are you going to bed, Mrs. Riddell? Well,good night. Perhaps all is going to be cleared up soon, and you must keep your spirits up, for your son’s sake.”
“For the sake of my sons, yes,” said the old lady tremulously. “And for the sake of the dear girl who has done so much for them and for me.”
“Strange how the dear old soul clings to that belief in Hilton’s ultimate recovery,” said Miss Margaret, when she and her brother were once alone. “Nothing seems to convince her that he is really dead.”
“We have plenty of proof that he is dead. There is the word of all the people who voyaged with him in the ‘Merry Maid’ that he disappeared in mid-ocean. And the length of time that has now elapsed precludes all possibility of his being alive still.”
“Of course, he must be dead. And our poor friend will be bound to awaken in time to the bitter truth that the sea will not give up its dead.”
“If you please,” announced a servant, whose knock had not been heard by the brother and sister, “a gentleman, whose name is Captain Gerard, wishes to speak to you.”
“Gerard! Show him in at once. Perhaps he has some important news for us, Margaret.”
“We’ll hope so. And we shall soon know.”
“Good evening, Mr. Bootle,” said Captain Gerard, advancing into the room. “You will, perhaps, be surprised to receive a visit from me so late in the day. But the truth is I have a bit of news for you that may interest you—I have seen Captain Cochrane.”