ANNIE’S RETURN.
Mr. Cory’s residence was in a wonderful state of bustle and excitement.
A telegram had been received from Annie to the effect that at last she
had been successful in her mission, and that her captive was now on his
way to England, under such efficient surveillance that he was not likely
to escape again. There were endless conjectures as to how this desirable
result had been brought about; but none of these were permitted to
interfere with the active preparations that were being made, in order to
give a fitting welcome to the girl whose courage and devotion had been
crowned with such happy results. For no one doubted that now all would
progress satisfactorily, and that such proofs of Harley’s innocence
would be forthcoming as would conduce to his speedy liberation.
There was only one blot on the general jubilation. That was the loss of
Hilton, of which all his friends were convinced that Hugh Stavanger was
the cause. Yet even Mrs. Riddell, bitterly as she grieved for him, felt
thankful to God to-day. For was not the unmerited disgrace under which
Harley languished a much sorer trial than even death itself? And had not
at least one of her boys a happy future before him? As for Annie, she
had ceased to look upon her as an ordinary mortal. For, she thought, no
mere girl could have done what she had done, and come unscathed through
her adventures.
“John, you are sure you did not mistake the time, and that you will not
be too late to meet her?” inquired Miss Margaret anxiously.
“There is ample time, my dear,” was the reply. “And even if I were too
late, the child is well able to dispense with anybody’s assistance,
especially as she has Briny with her.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Now that the terrible strain is nearly
over, a reaction may have set in, and the dear girl may be as helpless
as a fashionable doll.”
This reflection quickened Mr. Cory’s movements, with the result that he
was at the station quite an hour before the time appointed. He found the
long wait almost intolerable, but at last received the reward he sought.
Miss Margaret’s conjecture had not been far wrong. True, Annie was still
quite capable of directing minor affairs, but the strain imposed by the
necessity for daily, nay hourly, deception, had told upon her, and she
looked both weary and ill. But she soon brightened up under her father’s
radiant welcome. Her return home was in every respect a joyful one, and
the whole of the evening was spent in interchanging confidences and
experiences.
The trio of elderly people listened with the greatest astonishment to
Annie’s account of her adventures in Lina, and of the mode in which Hugh
Stavanger, alias Gregory Staines, had been kidnapped and conveyed to
English territory. Considerable management and diplomacy had been
required ere it had been possible to overcome certain difficulties in
the way of securing his arrest and transshipment to England. But at last
all was arranged, and the culprit would be put upon his trial for the
suspected murder of Hilton Riddell.
“And how have matters progressed here?” Annie inquired at last. “You are
all well, and you tell me, Dad, that Harley feels confident of success.
I have been so fortunate myself that I cannot but hope you have also had
some little gleams of enlightenment.”
“And you are quite right, dear,” exclaimed Miss Margaret, triumphantly.
“There is no end of news to tell you. To begin with, old Mr.
Stavanger----”
“No, that isn’t the beginning of the story,” interrupted Mr. Cory,
smiling.
“Now, John, who is to tell the story--you or I?”
“Oh, you, of course.”
“Then be good enough to let me tell it in my own way. I shall just start
where I did before. Captain Cochrane--”
“Captain Cochrane? What of him, for Heaven’s sake?” cried Annie, in
great excitement.
“Did you ever try to tell anything to more unreasonable people, Mrs.
Riddell? They want to hear all sorts of news, and yet they take the
words out of my mouth.”
So said Miss Margaret, and she did not feel at all sweet tempered as
she said it. But Annie speedily smoothed her ruffled plumes, and then
she continued without interruption: “Captain Gerard called to see us one
evening, and explained a great deal that had transpired during his last
voyage. As you are already aware, he also said that he had seen Captain
Cochrane in London. You may be sure that we recommended a vigorous
search, and only yesterday that search ended satisfactorily. Our man was
discovered close to the house in which his sister lives, and was only
captured after a very desperate resistance. Unfortunately for his future
chances of defence, he at once conjectured the cause of his arrest, and
protested that the passenger of the ‘Merry Maid’ was the only man to
blame for the steward’s disappearance. Even if this were true, though,
he tacitly admitted himself to be an accessory to crime after the fact,
and very plainly showed that he had regarded himself as liable to arrest
on suspicion at any moment. Probably Hugh Stavanger may try to place the
onus of guilt upon the captain. But, however this part of this long
string of troubles turns out, there will be quite enough evidence
elicited to prove that the diamond merchant’s son left England with a
great deal of the stolen property in his possession. Our solicitors have
already moved for a new trial, and we have secured several important
witnesses, Captain Gerard having been very helpful to us. His motives
must be regarded as quite disinterested, too, for he has been promised
the permanent command of the ‘Merry Maid,’ Captain Cochrane’s
resignation having been sent in. Your father saw this resignation at the
office of the shipowners, to whom he had explained our whole story, but
as there was no address of his on the document, it gave us no clue to
the man’s present whereabouts. He just seems to have hidden himself in
obscure lodgings, and to have imagined that our pursuit of him would
soon be abandoned. You are to see Harley to-morrow. He knows something
of what has been going on, as we thought it cruel to refuse him a gleam
of hope, now that things have progressed so well. I am not sure that he
won’t worship you, when he sees you.”
But this prospect proved so overwhelming to the over-wrought girl that
she burst into a passion of weeping, and hurried up to her own room.
Mrs. Riddell found the sight of Annie’s emotion unbearable, and also
lost her composure, while Mr. Cory and Miss Margaret looked at each
other in blank dismay.
“I think I must follow Annie upstairs,” said the latter at last.
“By no means, my dear,” objected Mr. Cory. “A cry will do the child
good. Our presence would only impose restraint upon her. Depend upon it,
she will come down soon, all the better for giving way for once. God
knows she must have had nerves of iron lately, and it was high time that
her work was done. She has borne up splendidly, but to have continued
the strain under which she has lived since Harley was committed would
have killed her.”
And Mr. Cory was quite right. The girl had borne as much as she could.
But she came back presently, quite composed, and ready to talk things
over quietly. Mrs. Riddell had gone to bed, but, even after supper was
over, Annie proved herself an insatiable listener.
“How is the Stavanger family going on?” she asked.
“Well,” her father answered. “I rather think that Mr. David Stavanger
must have become aware of his son’s guilt, and that the effort to hide
it is preying upon his mind. I hear that he has dissolved partnership
with his brother, and has realised his share of the business. His eldest
daughter is married, and he has gone with his wife and younger daughter
to live at Boulogne. It has been an object with me to keep him in sight,
as I thought it possible that his son might join him. The dissolution of
partnership and the removal seem to have been very suddenly taken steps
indeed, and my private inquiry agent told me that they were the result
of a quarrel with Mr. Samuel Stavanger. If this is true, perhaps the
latter suspects his nephew’s guilt.”
“Whether he does or not is immaterial to us, father. We can prove all
that is necessary without him.”
“Yes; but we could not be sure of that until lately. The capture of both
the culprits was hardly to be hoped for. Come in!”
In response to this permission, a servant entered to say that Mr.
Jenkins wished to see Mr. Cory. Mr. Jenkins, feeling sure of a welcome,
followed the servant into the room, and was speedily communicating some
important information to his three hearers.
“Annie,” said Mr. Cory, as soon as the servant had closed the door
behind her, “this is the agent who has been working for us at Boulogne.
Perhaps he has some fresh discoveries to report.”
“You are right, sir,” said Jenkins, ensconcing himself comfortably on
the seat pointed out to him, and basking in the warmth of the
comfortable fire. “Mr. Stavanger had hardly reached Boulogne, when he
developed symptoms of serious illness, and both doctor and nurses were
speedily in requisition. Mrs. Stavanger pleaded indisposition on her own
account, and declined to immure herself in a sick room. Hence her
husband was entirely given up to strangers, for the little girl was of
no use as a nurse. One of the women who has been engaged for this office
is an Englishwoman, and she has proved singularly amenable to pecuniary
persuasions. In a conversation which I secured with her yesterday, she
gave me some extraordinary information. Mr. Stavanger’s ailment, it
appears, is brain fever, and his whole thoughts are centred upon various
events connected with, and subsequent to, the diamond robbery. He raves
incessantly of his son, and of all the trouble he has brought upon him.
These ravings I have tried to arrange in their chronological order, and,
always premising that they are not the mere phantoms of a diseased
brain, I conclude them to reveal the following facts: Mr. Stavanger
became convinced of his son’s guilt, some time not long before Mr.
Riddell’s committal. Certain indiscretions on the part of Hugh Stavanger
caused others beside his father to learn of his guilt. One of these
others was a servant named Wear, who at once proceeded to blackmail the
family on the strength of her knowledge. This woman died very suddenly,
and Mr. Stavanger has been haunted by a belief that his son compassed
her death. You, I know, had an idea that the old gentleman himself had a
hand in the affair. But whatever may be attributed to the son, I feel
sure that the father was not to blame in this respect. Yet he was quite
prepared to go to great lengths to shield his scapegrace son, and
knowing him to be a thief, and suspecting him to be a murderer, he aided
his escape from England in the ss. ‘Merry Maid.’ While staying at St.
Ives, several weeks after this, he had an extraordinary find in the
shape of a sealed bottle, containing papers. These papers appear to have
been written and signed by Mr. Hilton Riddell, on board the ‘Merry
Maid,’ before being sealed in the bottle and thrown into the sea. Their
purport was a complete description of all that had taken place on board
the vessel since it had sailed from London, and they evidently contained
proof enough of Hugh Stavanger’s guilt. If such a bottle was really cast
into the sea, it was a very strange chance that threw it into the hands
of the only man besides those denounced in it who could have a great
personal interest in suppressing and destroying its contents.”
“Extraordinary!” exclaimed Mr. Cory. “Why, it would have saved months of
work and suspense for us. But--I am afraid it reveals only too truly
what has been the fate of poor Hilton! He had penetrated the secrets of
the villains, and felt that his life was not safe. They must in their
turn have suspected him, and Stavanger and Cochrane had deemed it
necessary to their safety to remove him. Oh, the scoundrels! But the
poor lad shall be amply avenged!” Annie, too, was excited and indignant.
So was Miss Margaret. But they forbore all interruptions, and Mr.
Jenkins concluded his narrative in his own way.
“But little remains to be added,” he said. “This Mr. Stavanger seems
to be an odd mixture of bigotry, hypocrisy, and blind devotion to his
disreputable son. He talks quite jubilantly about the opportune deaths
of Mr. Edward Lyon, and of a man by whom he himself was being
blackmailed because of the fellow’s knowledge of Hugh Stavanger’s guilt.
Then his ravings are to the effect that Harley Riddell must have really
done something to make himself accused of God, since Providence is
visibly fighting against him. He also seems to be aware of many of your
abortive attempts to entrap his son, and the poor soul triumphs over you
in his delirium. Here is the last of his speeches that have been
reported to me. ‘Yes, you may search the world over, but you will not
discover Hugh. He is only the chosen instrument of Providence, used to
bring his deserts to a villain who has committed some great and
undiscovered crime. That villain’s brother’s would have betrayed Hugh,
and what became of him--Bah! Neither he nor you can prove aught against
my son--unless the sea gives up its dead!’”