“MISS ANNIE CORY IS CONFIDENTIAL.”
A few days after the events narrated in the last chapter, Miss Margaret
Cory was reading aloud from some manuscript which she had just received
by post. Her audience was small, being composed of two individuals with
whom we are already acquainted--to wit, her brother, Mr. Cory, and
Hilton Riddell, who both listened to her with curious interest.
You and I too, dear readers, will take the liberty of hearing what Miss
Cory had to say.
“My darling Auntie,” she read, “I am now fairly installed here, but,
would you believe it? there are signs already that it will be
unnecessary for me to remain here very long. I shall, however, do my
utmost to retard my exit until I have learned all I want to know. Short
as my time here has been, it has already revealed much to me. Perhaps I
had better begin my story at the beginning, and then you can form your
own opinion. I must also be as lucid and explicit as possible, since
upon what I learn and describe Hilton Riddell’s actions in the near
future are dependent.
“On presenting myself here yesterday morning, according to arrangement,
I was admitted by a middle-aged servant, who regarded me with what I
considered pure effrontery.
“‘I wish to see Mrs. Stavanger,’ I said.
“‘Very likely,’ was the woman’s answer. ‘But you may prepare yourself
for a long wait first.’
“‘Why? Is she not in?’
“‘Oh yes, she’s in. But she thinks people wouldn’t believe her to be a
swell if she didn’t keep folks waiting a good bit.’
“‘Perhaps you will be good enough to tell her that I am here.’
“‘I suppose you are the new governess?’
“‘I am.’
“‘Oh well, you won’t be here long, if you’ve no more patience than the
others. But come inside; you can wait in the hall.’
“Saying this, the extraordinary specimen of a servant permitted me to
cross the threshold. The cabman had become impatient, and began to bring
my bit of luggage in at once. It was quite ten minutes before the woman,
who, I learned afterwards, is called Wear, made her reappearance, and
requested me to follow her to the drawing-room. By this time the cabman
had been paid and had gone away.
“Still smarting under the peculiar treatment of the servant, it was
with some trepidation that I approached the mistress. She was sitting in
an easy chair, and did not rise to greet me, as I naturally expected she
would do. From this trifling circumstance I instantly deduced the
opinion that Mrs. Stavanger was totally devoid of those finer instincts
which go to make up the being described by the term ‘lady.’ Subsequent
observations have confirmed me in this opinion. Personal beauty of a
strong, showy type, must at one time have been Mrs. Stavanger’s to a
great degree. She would be handsome yet, but for the expression of
mingled ill-temper and arrogance which perpetually disfigures her
features. She is, I think, a woman who has, by means of her good looks,
secured a husband whose position in life is much higher than hers had
been, and she is one of those people of whom it is expressively said
that ‘they cannot carry corn’--in other words she is a ‘beggar on
horseback.’
“She treated me with scant courtesy, even as her waiting maid had led me
to expect. She apparently imagines that a woman who is compelled to earn
her living in any shape or form is no longer deserving of respect or
civility. Hers is a belief which, unfortunately, has many followers, but
which troubles me very little, and would trouble me just as little were
I really the poor governess I seem to be, for I do not hold the opinion
of unreasonable people to be important enough to worry about. By the
time this interview was over, I had been given to understand that my
duties would be slightly more onerous than I had anticipated when being
engaged by Mr. Stavanger, who had spoken of his wife being too nervous
to interview strangers, and of his twelve-year-old daughter as a child
who required very little discipline.
“The latter is a very bright girl, but she is fearfully spoiled by
alternate over-indulgence and fault-finding. She has led her former
governess a pretty dance, by all accounts, and coolly told me that she
always did as she liked, and that it was no use telling tales of her, as
her mother never believed them, but invariably punished the governess
instead of the refractory pupil.
“‘It’s no use your setting me any lessons,’ she remarked yesterday
afternoon. ‘I shall only work when I like, just as I have always done.’
“‘Very well,’ I replied coolly, ‘we’ll be idle together. It’s no use
killing oneself to keep oneself, is it?’
“You would have been highly amused if you had seen Miss Fanny
Stavanger’s stare of surprise. She is evidently not used to being
humoured.
“‘I don’t know,’ was her dubious answer to my query. ‘If you take your
wages you ought to try to earn them. That is what mamma always tells the
other servants.’
“This wasn’t a palatable speech to hear. But the stake for which I am
playing is too big to allow me to be daunted by trifles, so I merely
told the girl it rested entirely with her whether I accepted my ‘wages’
from her parents or not, and that if she refused to learn her lessons
there would be no alternative for me but to refuse.
“‘Perhaps,’ I added, ‘you have been harassed over your lessons and have
not been permitted to learn in your own way. If you like we will alter
all that. You shall study when you please, and give over the minute you
are tired.’
“‘Well, I call you really jolly,’ was Miss Fanny’s rejoinder. ‘Maybe you
think me a fool, but if you’ll help me nicely, you’ll see what a lot I
can really do.’
“The little rebel was conquered. This morning she was quite eager to
begin studying with me, and I foresee little trouble with her in future.
Already she begins to be confidential with me, and has told me something
that will prove valuable. I am, I suppose, not yet quite inured to my
duties as detective, for I felt downright mean when listening to Fanny,
until a picture of my poor, innocent Harley rose before my mental
vision, and my heart hardened against the wicked people who have ruined
him.
“There are several members of this household who would prove interesting
to a student of human nature. Mr. Stavanger is purse-proud,
ostentatiously religious, hard and uncharitable in his judgment of
others; fond of show, and yet mean in trifles. It needs no very keen
observer to discover that much.
“Of Mrs. Stavanger you will already have formed your opinion. The
eldest daughter is a conglomeration of both parents, with some of their
defects slightly accentuated. The son I need not describe to you, you
saw him at the trial. But Fanny has told me that of late he has been
very unsteady, and that he and his father have quarrelled a good deal.
My pupil has also much to say about Wear, the parlour maid.
“‘I never saw anybody change so,’ observed the child. ‘Wear used to be
so respectful, until those nasty thieves got into the shop, and nearly
ruined papa and his partners. Since then she is impertinent all day
long, and says such queer things. I can’t imagine why she isn’t packed
off about her business. But when Ada told her the other day that she
would put up with her impudence no longer, Wear just laughed in her
face, and said that it would take a cleverer body than Ada to turn her
out of this house now.’
“I made no comments to Fanny on this information. But I feel sure of
one thing. Wear has become possessed of some power over the Stavangers,
of which she is making a very injudicious use, since it would pay her in
the end much better to keep a civil tongue in her head, and merely to
insist upon more liberal wages, instead of showing others that there is
ground for suspicion. When once the source of her sudden accession of
power over the Stavangers is discovered that power will irrevocably
leave her. Coupling Fanny’s remarks about ‘those nasty thieves’ with our
own previously-formed opinion respecting the actual culprit in whose
place Harley has been condemned and Wear’s peculiar behaviour, the
inference that we are on the right track is obvious. With God’s help, we
shall yet be able to rescue Harley from his horrible fate. I wonder if
you will think me wicked when I confess that I long for the time when
his betrayers will be suffering the agony that has been meted out to
him. Tell Hilton to hold himself in readiness for action at any moment,
for I am sure that I am on the eve of further discoveries.”
Three days later another budget from Annie was being discussed in Mr.
Cory’s drawing-room. This time Miss Cory had an additional listener.
Mrs. Riddell had been persuaded to take up her abode here for an
indefinite period. Her house had been let furnished until such time as
she was likely to require it again. Hilton was also visiting here at
present, and was ready to do anything or go anywhere to help to prove
his brother’s innocence. The fact that his mother was in such good
hands, instead of being left to mope and grieve in childless loneliness,
heartened him considerably for the work which he was convinced lay
before him.
“Since writing to you last,” read Miss Cory, “I have made a wonderful
discovery. I am quite sure that Hugh Stavanger, whose evidence was the
principal means of ensuring Harley’s condemnation, is the thief we are
in search of. Last night at twelve o’clock, when all the household was
supposed to be asleep, Mr. Stavanger was fuming in the dining-room at
the belated return home of his hopeful son, who, I have gathered, has
got into the habit of staying out late at night. At eleven o’clock I had
heard the hall door open, and someone ran upstairs to Hugh Stavanger’s
room, shutting the bedroom door behind him. The servants, who had not
seen the entrance of Mr. Hugh, but had heard the noisy run up to his
room, concluded that it was he who had come in. Everybody else being at
home, they locked and barred the doors for the night, and then went to
bed. But I, who had resolved to let nothing escape my notice, if it
could be helped, knew that a little pantomime was being enacted for the
benefit of the unsuspicious servants, for it was Mr. Stavanger who had
come noiselessly downstairs, and had imitated his son’s manner of
entering the house and going upstairs. The latter was still away from
home.
“From this behaviour I drew certain deductions. Mr. Stavanger wanted to
speak privately to his son; he did not want the servants to witness the
time of Hugh’s arrival, nor the condition in which he arrived; and the
matter about which he desired to speak must be of great importance,
since it required to be discussed unseasonably.
“I determined to be present at the interview.
“To do this, prompt action on my part was necessary, as I must be on
the scene before either of the principal actors. There are three
servants in the house. Wear was the last of these to go to bed, and the
moment she had passed the landing on to which my room door opened, I
slipped downstairs, and passed quietly into the dining room, without
being heard by anyone. Then I hid myself behind the window draperies,
and awaited events.
“I had not long to wait. Scarcely two minutes had elapsed ere Mr.
Stavanger, slipperless and cautious, came creeping into the room.
Perhaps it was because he was nervous that he found it necessary to help
himself to a big drink of brandy. Having disposed of this, he stepped
softly into the hall, and, an instant later, I heard him carefully
unfastening the front door. I was very glad that he did not return to
the dining room immediately, as this enabled me to change my position
into a more comfortable one. I sat down on the floor, leaned my back
against one of the window frames, and readjusted the curtains.
“If there was to be an interview between father and son, I might expect
them in this room, for they were not likely to be so indiscreet as to
carry on a conversation in the hall. Nor was I mistaken. In about a
quarter of an hour I heard someone ascend the front steps, and Mr.
Stavanger, who had been waiting in the hall until then, opened the door
before his son had time either to ring the bell or to insert a latch
key.
“‘Keep yourself quiet,’ I heard him say in a low tone, ‘and go into the
dining room. Make no noise, for your liberty is in danger.’
“Do you believe that, in cases of emergency, some of our faculties are
strengthened to an enormous extent? I think that this must be so, and
that I, for one, have been the subject of this phenomenon. Otherwise,
how shall I account for being able to hear Mr. Stavanger’s words so
distinctly? No doubt, the midnight quiet of the house and neighbourhood
had something to do with it. Still, I shall always think that Providence
thus showed its approval of my endeavours to save Harley Riddell from an
unjust fate.
“Hugh’s answer to his father’s injunction was an ejaculation of which I
did not catch the import. But he was evidently sufficiently impressed by
his manner to be obedient for once. I heard the door quietly fastened
again, and then the two men came into the room in which I was playing
the eavesdropper. Mr. Stavanger, after turning up the gas, which he had
previously lighted, seated himself, and requested his son to do the
same.
“‘Now then,’ observed the latter, ‘I would like to know what all this
mystery is about, and what you mean by insinuating that my liberty is in
danger.’
“‘Have you no idea?’ questioned Mr. Stavanger.
“‘Not the slightest.’
“‘Think again.’
“‘Why the deuce don’t you out with it? It isn’t likely that I know just
what you are driving at, and if I did, I am not fool enough to take the
initiative.’
“‘Well I will tell you. I have all along suspected that you yourself
were the thief for whom Riddell has been made the scapegoat. Perhaps it
will be as well for me to tell you that I have from the first been sure
of it. This was what made me so anxious to secure Riddell’s conviction.
I hoped thereby to save our own name from disgrace. But my efforts are
likely to prove futile, because, besides being a thief, a perjurer, and
a scoundrel, you are proving yourself a fool. You have been spending and
gambling recklessly of late, and people are talking about the amount of
money you are getting through. The gossip about you has come to Mr.
Lyon’s ears, and to-day I endured the greatest humiliation of my life,
for I was told to my face that I had deliberately sent an innocent man
to gaol, knowing the while that my son was guilty. It was in vain that I
denied this. Mr. Lyon vows that he has proofs of your guilt, and he has
given me his positive orders to refund the value of the theft and to
endorse some story which he is going to trump up to show that no theft
has been committed, or take the consequences.’
“‘Meaning that he would make me change places with Riddell! Good God!
what shall I do? I can’t give up the diamonds!’
“‘But you must give them up! Do you think I will allow you to ruin us
all? And simply because you want money to squander in drinking and
gambling hells? Tell me what you have done with your booty.’
“‘It’s all gone. I realised the diamonds for a quarter their value, and
paid my creditors with it.’
“‘What! you were heavily in debt?’
“‘Yes. I owed hundreds, and the money melted like wax.’
“‘What have you left?’
“‘About fifty pounds.’
“‘It’s a lie! You cannot have gone through the worth of all you took.’
“‘I tell you I have.’
“‘I wonder what I have done that I should be cursed by a son like you!
I won’t ruin myself to buy your freedom. You shall go to gaol like the
dog you are.’
“‘And what about the mater and the girls? If you won’t do it for me, you
will perhaps wish you had done it for their sakes.’
“‘Ah, you have me there! You are not worth stretching out a saving hand
to. But it would be hard to make them suffer for you.’
“‘Yes, I knew I should bring you to reason. What do you intend to do in
the matter?’
“‘Do you think your equal for shamelessness could be found anywhere?’
“‘Suppose you stick to business. What is going to be done?’
“‘Mr. Lyon sails for America to-morrow on very important business, as
you already know. He will not remain there above a week. In three weeks,
therefore, we may expect him back. Before that time arrives two things
must be done. I must place to the credit of Mr. Lyon and your uncle
Samuel an equivalent for their share of the stolen property. And you
must have left the country before then, for he has forbidden your
entering the shop again, and will not pledge himself not to denounce you
if he sees you.’
“‘But this is no reason why I should leave England?’
“‘There is another reason.’
“‘What is that?’
“‘Wear knows your secret. She saw the box of diamonds in your room on
the day of the robbery. At first she did not think about it, but, after
hearing of the robbery she put two and two together, and concluded that
the fine things that were missing were the same which her prying eyes
had seen hidden in the corner of one of your drawers. I can’t imagine
how a man in your position could be fool enough to leave his drawers
unlocked. Anyhow, Wear fathomed your secret, and tried to find the
things again, but they were gone. Then she came to me, and threatened
exposure unless I gave her fifty pounds to hold her tongue. This I did,
hoping to hear no more of the matter from her. But she is a woman of
such little sense that she is likely to ruin everything. Not content
with demanding more money from time to time, she is vilely impertinent
to us all, and behaves so very much like a person who holds us under her
thumb, that I shall find it necessary to make some provision for her
further away. But first, you must clear out of the country, for your
conduct is such as to awaken too much suspicion.’
“‘Does the mater know all?’
“‘No. She knows that Wear holds you in her power somehow, but doesn’t
know the actual facts. I was obliged to get up a plausible yarn as wide
of the real truth as I could, in order to induce her to keep Wear on,
now that she is so impertinent, until I could get rid of her
diplomatically.’
“‘And when must I go?’
“‘To-morrow night, at nine o’clock, a certain Captain Cochrane will call
to escort you to his ship. You must have everything in readiness to
leave with him. But you will not be able to take any luggage with you,
as Wear must not know you are going away.’
“‘Send Wear out of the way somewhere. Pack her off to the Crystal Palace
for the day.’
“‘It won’t do. Our servants are not used to treats, and Wear would
suspect something in a minute. Besides, I don’t want anybody except
Captain Cochrane to know that I am cognisant of your departure. It may
save a good deal of awkwardness for me in future.’
“This conversation, as you may easily believe, was listened to by me
with the greatest eagerness, and I was desperately afraid of missing a
word. Here was full proof to me, of Harley’s innocence. But my knowledge
was, I knew, useless as evidence, since I had no witness but myself to
bring forward. True, there is Wear. But she may be bought over by the
other side. And at present our task must be the frustration of Hugh
Stavanger’s attempt to escape with the diamonds. For, in spite of his
assertion to the contrary, I believe him to be still in possession of
the greater part of the stolen property. If he goes away with Captain
Cochrane, he will contrive to take his booty on board with him.
“There is one thing that makes my discoveries incomplete. Otherwise I
would have come home to tell you all this, never to return here, instead
of sitting up all night to write this. The name of the ship in which
Hugh Stavanger is to sail did not transpire, so Hilton will not be able
to do anything to help until to-morrow night. He must then watch for the
arrival of this captain, and be prepared to follow him and his intended
companion wherever they may go. It may be necessary to try to obtain a
passage with them. Is there any office on board a ship that Hilton can
take?
“To-morrow night, if I see an opportunity of hearing what these bad
people have to say to each other, I will try to gain some additional
information, for use in case Hilton fails to get on board with them, or
to intercept Hugh Stavanger’s attempt to escape. Perhaps I may learn
something more during the day. But this meeting is too early for me to
have any prospect of hiding unobserved, for the rest of the household
will all be up and stirring. Even if I could secrete myself again, I
might not be able to escape detection and reach my own room unobserved,
as I have been able to do this last night.
“The fact is, I feel somewhat unnerved, and am afraid of betraying
myself. In a few hours I must go through the farce of teaching Fanny,
although I feel dead tired already. I shall not need to feign a
headache. Still, if needs were, I could spend many a night in the work
of love upon which I have entered, and the day will wear away as others
do. Then as soon as I feel that my further presence here is useless, I
will try to slip out unobserved and exchange experiences with Hilton, if
there is time before the two men leave the house. As you know, I brought
very little luggage with me, and I will put on as many clothes as
possible, leaving the few things I cannot use. They are not marked, and
I could not be traced through them, especially as I am dyed and painted
to look like somebody else for awhile.”
This was all. Annie left off abruptly. Possibly she had feared
interruption; or had had only time enough to catch the early morning
post. Anyhow, she had done her part of the investigations well, and had
sent a very comprehensive report.
“Isn’t she a splendid girl?” said Miss Cory, with enthusiasm.
“She is just wonderful,” answered Hilton. “No wonder my brother loves
her so. I wish the world held more like her.”
“There are heaps of brave and noble girls, my boy, if you only knew
where to look for them. I wish my poor child was nicely out of that nest
of scoundrels.”
To which remark of Mr. Cory’s Mrs. Riddell, wiping first her eyes and
then her spectacles, gave answer--“Mr. Cory, that girl is too plucky and
sensible to get into trouble through being indiscreet. And as nothing
else is likely to betray her identity, we may rest assured that she will
get away all right. She will have no great distance to travel, but of
course, some one must be on the lookout for her.”
“I will go with Hilton,” said Mr. Cory; “and we will be within watching
distance of Mr. Stavanger’s house before half-past eight. Then,
everything being arranged that requires to be arranged beforehand,
Hilton will follow the two men, and find out what ship they are bound
for, while I wait for Annie, and bring her home with me.”
“Her suggestion that, if Hugh Stavanger gets to sea before the diamonds
can be found, as proof of what she says, I should try to embark on board
the same ship, with the object of recovering the things, or indicating
their whereabouts to the authorities, is a good one. But I have no
experience of sea-life, beyond an occasional excursion for an hour or
two from a sea-side holiday resort. And I have not the slightest idea of
anything I could do to excuse my presence on board a ship of any sort.
The sailors work above, and the firemen below. But even if I knew their
duties, and could get a job on board, my chances of finding the diamonds
would be small. But I would take care to keep my man in sight after he
left the ship, and it will take him all his time to baffle me then.”
So said Hilton, and this time it was Miss Cory who made the suggestions
which were ultimately followed.
“You couldn’t go on board directly after the captain to ask for work.
The time would be so unseasonable as to cause suspicion. But you might
perhaps ascertain casually whether the ship is leaving at once or not.
If it is, then you will have to risk trying to get on board, in spite of
the lateness of the hour. If not, wait till morning, but keep watch lest
there should be an attempt to slip away earlier than the time mentioned
to you. You have several hours yet before you, and you have more than
one disguise ready. Use one of these, and pack the others in your box
for use in emergencies. Go boldly on board, and offer to pay for your
passage. Comport yourself as one who has plenty of money, but who has
some reason for preferring to sail in a vessel that is not known as a
passenger ship. The captain will at once jump to the conclusion that you
are in some trouble, and you must humour his fancy. Hint something about
a breach of promise action, and he will think you quite a hero.”
The last sentence was uttered with a scornful accent which plainly
indicated Miss Cory’s opinion of man’s peculiar notions of what is
honourable in his dealings with the other sex. But her suggestion
“caught on,” and formed the basis of the tale with which Hilton Riddell
was to hide his real motive in attempting to obtain a passage with
Captain Cochrane. There was of course the possibility that his
application would be refused. In this case, he would proceed by the
quickest route to whichever place the merchant ship was bound for, and
would be on the spot, ready to meet the diamond thief, and to do his
best to convict him of the possession of some of the stolen property.
When, at the time agreed upon, Mr. Cory and Hilton Riddell set off on
their mission of love and vengeance, every detail of their plans had
been arranged, Hilton, not sure when or under what circumstances he
would see his mother again, had bidden her a fond good-bye, and had left
her praying for God’s help in the enterprise which she hoped would
restore her banished son to her.
Meanwhile the Stavangers, father and son, were also maturing their
plans, feeling pretty confident now of success, and little dreaming that
the avenger was already on their track.