Ten minutes after Tom was busy trying to obtain some further
information, after seeing his father comfortably settled down in the
study with a good cigar and a pint bottle of port.
"May--may I have 'em, Tom, my boy?" he asked.
"Yes, yes, old gentleman," said Tom. "Mamma really is ill now, and
won't interfere, and if it gives you a few twinges of the gout, hang it
all, it will be a counter irritant."
This was after Lady Barmouth had been assisted off to bed.
"Hold up, my little lassie," Tom said, pressing Tryphie's hand. "Hang
me if you aren't the only one left with a head upon your shoulders. You
must help me all you can."
"I will, Tom," she said, returning the pressure; and he felt that any
one else's pretensions from that moment were cast to the winds.
"One moment," whispered Tom, as Lady Barmouth was moaning on the stairs,
half-way up the first flight of which she was seated, with her head
resting on Justine's shoulder. "You think there's no mistake--Maude has
bolted?"
"Yes, I have been to her room, and she has taken her little Russia bag."
"But you don't believe this absurd nonsense that they have got hold of?"
"I can't, Tom," she said; "but she has been very strange in her ways for
some time past."
"Enough to make her," said Tom. "The old lady would drive me mad if she
had her own way with me. There, be off and get her upstairs to bed
while I see what's to be done."
Tryphie went up, and Tom entered the dining-room, developing an amount
of firmness and authority that startled the butler into a state of
abnormal activity.
"Now, Robbins," he said, "look here: of course you know this absurd
statement that has been going round the house, and that it's all
nonsense."
"Well, my lord," said, the butler, "Lady Maude has encouraged that sort
of man about the place lately."
"Confound you for a big pompous, out-of-livery fool!" cried Tom,
bringing his hand down with a crash upon the table. "There, fetch all
the servants in, quick."
Robbins stared, and felt disposed to give notice to leave upon the spot,
but Tom's way mastered him, and, feeling "all of a work," as he confided
afterwards to the cook, he hurried out, and soon after the whole staff
was assembled in the dining-room, Justine having been fetched from her
ladyship's side.
"Now then," cried Tom, opening his informal court. "Who knows anything
about this?"
"Please, m'lord," said Henry, the snub-nosed little foot page, florid
with buttons, and fat from stolen sweets, "I see a man playing the organ
outside to-night."
"So you did yesterday, and the day before."
"Yes, m'lord," said the boy, eagerly; "and I heard somebody go out."
"Did you?" said Tom, politely. "Now, look here, my boy! If you dare to
open that mouth of yours and get chattering to people this monstrous
piece of nonsense, I'll--I'll, hang me, I'll cut your ears off."
The boy ducked and held one arm up, as if he expected to be attacked at
once, and ended by taking refuge behind his best friend and greatest
enemy--to wit, the cook.
"Speak, some of you, will you?" cried Tom. "Did any one see my sister
go out?"
"If you please, my lord," said the housemaid, "if I may make so bold--"
"Yes," said Tom, with sarcastic politeness, "you may make so bold. Now
go on."
"Well, I'm sure," muttered the woman. "Well, my lord, I was going
upstairs to-night, and I heard my young mistress sobbing bitterly in her
room."
"Well," said Tom, "and you stopped to listen."
"Which I wouldn't bemean myself to do anything of the kind," said the
woman with a toss of the head; "but certainly she was crying, and soon
after I was a-leaning out of the second floor window, it being very 'ot
indoors, as we've been a good deal 'arrissed lately by her ladyship."
"Go on," cried Tom, impatiently.
"Which I am, my lord, as fast as I can," cried the woman; "and there was
that tall handsome Italian gentleman, as cook thinks is a furrin'
nobleman in disguise, playing on his hinstrument."
"Yes," said Tom, sarcastically.
"And all of a sudden he stops, and I see him go into the portico."
"Oh, yes, of course," said Tom.
"And then there was a lot of whispering."
"Yes, yes," said Tom; "oh, yes, of course."
"And that's all, my lord, only my young mistress wasn't in the room when
I came back."
"Now then, all of you," cried Tom, "once for all, this absurd rumour is
one of the most ridiculous--What's that you say?" he cried sharply, as
he heard a whisper.
"I was saying to Ma'amselle Justine that my young lady was always
encouraging them men about, my lord," said the housemaid, "and that if
I'd been one of the spying sort I might have seen her."
"Poor thing," said the cook, loudly. "She has been drove to it. I have
a heart of my own."
"Silence!" roared Tom. "How dare you? Here, has any one else got
anything to say? You? Oh yes, you are my sister's maid."
"Yes, my lord," said Dolly Preen, spitefully.
"Well, what do you know?"
"I know that my mistress was always listening at first to that dreadful
Italian," said Dolly.
"No, no--you, you," cried Justine.
"I fought against it, and mastered it," said Dolly proudly; "Lady Maude
found it too much, I suppose."
"Well, I never!" ejaculated Mrs Downes.
"Go on," cried Tom.
"And then she got to dropping notes to him out of the window, my lord."
"It isn't true," cried Tom. "Woman, you ought to be turned out of the
house."
"Oh, it's true, though," said Mrs Downes.
"Silence, you silly old meat murdress," raged Tom.
"Meat what?" cried the cook. "There are times, my lord, when one must
speak. I've seen a deal in my time, and there's no doubt about it.
We're all very sorry for you, but we all knows that my young lady's been
drove to go away with that dark young man."
"It is not true," said a sharp voice; and Justine stepped forward to the
table, with her dark eyes flashing, her white teeth set, so that she cut
the words as they came through, and in her excitement and championship
of her young mistress becoming exceedingly French. "I say it is not
true. You _canaille_ you, vis your silly talk about ze organiste. It
is all a lie--a great lie to say such vicked, cruel thing of my dear
young lady. Ah, bah! that for you all," she cried, snapping her
fingers, "you big silly fool, all the whole. What, my young mistress go
to degrade herself vis one evasion, _comme ca_! She could it not do.
Sare, I am angry--it make me _folle_ to hear you talk. I say it is not
true."
"Damme, you're a trump, Justine," cried Tom, excitedly, as he caught her
hand and wrung it. "You are right. She would not degrade herself like
that."
"They are so _stupide_."
"Yes," cried Tom; "and mind this--any one who dares to put about such a
disgraceful scandal--hallo! who's this?"
There was a loud ring just then, and the butler looked in a scared way
at Tom.
"Well, go and open it," he said.
The next minute there were voices and steps heard in the hall, and
directly after Sir Grantley Wilters came in, followed by a policeman,
and a ragged, dirty looking little man, whose toes peeped out in rows
from his boots, and who held in his hand a very battered brimless hat,
which he kept rubbing when he was not engaged in pulling his forelock to
first one servant and then another.
"Oh, here you are," said Tom, sharply, as the baronet advanced. "She's
gone off with Melton, hasn't she?"
"N-no," said the bridegroom elect, dejectedly. "I believe it's as they
say."
"Then you're a bigger fool than I took you for," said Tom, sharply.
"Now then, what do you know about it?" he cried to the policeman. "But
stop a moment. Here, the whole pack of you, clear out. And mind this--
Mademoiselle Justine is right. Thank you, Justine. Go to her ladyship
now. I shan't forget this."
The Frenchwoman bowed and smiled, and drew her skirts aside as she swept
out of the room, while the rest of the servants shuffled out in an
awkward fashion, as if every one was eager not to be the last.
"Now then," cried Tom to the policeman, as the baronet went to the
chimney-piece to rest his head upon his hand, "why are you come?"
"This gentleman, sir," said the constable, nodding his head at Sir
Grantley, "asked me to take up the case. Been investigating, and I've
got some evidence."
"What is it?" cried Tom.
The constable led the way into the hall, where there was a rush, for the
servants had been standing gazing at something near the door.
"Well?" said Tom.
"Thought I'd take a look round, sir," said the constable, "to see if
there was anything in the way of a clue, and I found this."
He pointed to an oblong chest, covered with green baize, and with a
couple of broad leather straps across it.
"Well, it's an organ," said Tom.
"Yes, sir," said the constable nodding. "That's just about what it is."
Tom stared at the man, and the man stared at Tom, and then they returned
to the dining-room.
"Where was it?" said Tom shortly.
"Just underneath the area steps, sir, close agin the dust-bin," said the
constable.
"Ought to have been in it," cried Tom, sharply. "Now, who's this
fellow?"
The ragged man, who had been standing on one leg with the foot of the
other against his knee, looking like a dilapidated crane, put his foot
down and began to make tugs at his hair.
"Beg parding, sir, on'y a poor man, sir. Been pickin' up a job or two,
fetching up kebs and kerridges, sir--party, sir, over at three 'undred
and nine, sir. I was a waitin' about afore the swells began to come,
when I sees a big tall man a-hangin' about, lookin' as if there was
something on, so I goes into the doorway lower down and watches on him."
"Had he got an organ with him?" said Tom excitedly.
"I heerd one a-playin' just before, sir, and then I see him a-leaning
agin the hairy railings, and arter a bit he seemed to chuck somethin' up
agin the winder and then walks off."
"Well, go on, my man," said Tom, eagerly.
"Then I didn't think no more on it, sir, till all at once I sees a
hansom come up and stop at the corner, and this same chap gets out, and
that made me feel wild-like and take notice, 'cause it seemed as if I
ought to have looked out sharper, and got the job."
"All right; go on," cried Tom.
"Well, sir, then he goes away and the keb waits and he walks by this
here house, and begins whistling this chune as I've often heerd them
orgin grinders play."
The man sucked in his cheeks, and whistled three or four bars of the
prison song in _Trovatore_.
"Then, as I kep my hye on him, I sees the front door open quietly, and a
lady come out in a long cloak; and she seemed as if she was a-goin' to
faint away, but he kitches her tight, and half runs her along to wheer
the keb was a-standin', and I was ready for him this time, holding my
arm over the wheel so as to keep the lady's dress outer the mud."
"Yes, yes," cried Tom, for the man, who had kept on polishing his hat,
dropped it and picked it up hastily, to begin repolishing it.
"Well, sir, she was a-cryin' like one o'clock--in highsteriks like--and
he says something to her in a furren languidge, and then, as she gets in
he says, `Take keer,' he says, called her by her name, like."
"Name? What name?" cried Tom, eagerly.
"Well, you see, gov'nor, it sounded like Bella Meer, or Mee-her. `Take
keer; Bella Mee-her,' he says just like that."
"Bella mia," muttered Tom.
"Yes, sir, that's it, sir; that were the young lady's name; and then he
jumps in, and I shoves down the apron, and he pokes the trap-door open,
and away they goes down the Place like one o'clock."
"Well?" said Tom.
"That's about all, gov'nor," said the man, looking into his dilapidated
hat, and then lifting and peeping inside the lining, as if he expected
to find some more there.
"No, it ain't," said the constable, "come now. He give you something,
didn't he?"
"Well, s'pose he did," said the man, sulkily; "that ain't got nothing to
do with it, 'ave it? The gent don't want to rob a pore man of his 'ard
earnin's, do he?"
"What did he give you, my man?" said Tom, eagerly, "There, there, show
me. Not that it matters."
"Yes, sir, excuse me, but it does matter," said the constable. "Now
then, out with it."
The man thrust his hand very unwillingly into his pocket, and brought
out what looked like a small shilling, which was eagerly snatched by
Tom.
"Vittoria Emanuele--Lira. Why, constable, it's an Italian piece!"
"That's so, sir," said the constable.
"There, be off with you; there's half a crown for you," said Tom.
"Constable," he cried, as the latter closed the door on the walking
rag-bag, "quick, not a moment to be lost. That cabman's number, and as
soon as you can."
"Right, sir; that's first job," said the constable. "You'll be here?"
"Yes, till you come back. Spare no expense to get that number."
The constable was off almost before the words had left his lips, and as
the door closed Tom turned to Sir Grantley, who still stood with his
head leaning upon his hand.
"Now then," he said, "what are you going to do?"
"Don't know," was the reply.
"It looks bad," said Tom, "but I won't believe it yet."
"No--poor girl," said the baronet, sadly--"I'm beginning to think she
didn't care for me, don't you know."
Tom stared at him wonderingly.
"Are you going to help me run them down?"
"Yas--no--I don't know," said the baronet. "I suppose I ought to shoot
that fellow--Belgium or somewhere--if there is a fellow. But I don't
think there is."
"You don't?" said Tom.
"No," said the baronet, slowly.
"But you heard? She must have gone off with somebody. You know what
the people think. If it is so, she must be saved at all costs."
"Yas--of course," said the baronet, slowly; "but--don't think it. Poor
girl, she was a lady--she couldn't stoop to it--no--couldn't--she'd
sooner have married me."
"Wilters," said Tom, holding out his hand and speaking huskily, "thank
you for that. We never liked one another, and I've been a confounded
cad to you sometimes; but--but--you--you're a gentleman, Wilters, a true
gentleman."