SURPRISING DISCLOSURES
The quiet and interesting conversation that Harry Goodall had privately
with Edith Dove whilst her father and the captain had gone to see if
Falcon and Croft had been captured was neither sought nor expected.
Edith, when alone with the aeronaut, had thought it only natural and
right to offer her sympathies to the welcome messenger from the clouds,
whose form and face seemed familiar, and whose recent services she not
only appreciated, but at the same time felt that she was under the
influence of gratitude and fascination, which she did not attempt to
suppress, until a sudden ray of light, falling on the aeronaut’s face,
revealed to her something which she hesitated to impart to him, in case
she might be mistaken. The idea, however, which had come into her head,
induced her to be more reserved until she had made further inquiries
of the young lady who was with Lucy; for, if she were mistaken in her
conviction as to where they had previously met, she might repent of
being unduly precipitate.
Harry Goodall, it may as well be at once confessed, was, from the
moment he met Miss Dove, the victim of love at first sight; besides, he
could not rid himself of the notion that he had seen Edith somewhere
before, as her pretty face appeared to be slightly familiar. This
was the prevailing thought of the aeronaut as he conversed with Miss
Dove, and afterwards he reproached himself about the utter stupidity
he had shown in not having long before sought the acquaintanceship
of the heiress of Wedwell Park, who now seemed to him so attractive
and lovely; her very eyes beamed with a strange tenderness which was
bewitching, and when a more subdued expression crept over her face, he
thought perhaps her mind had wandered back to Falcon, who, according to
the doctor’s insinuations, was paying his addresses to her.
It was whilst these similar fancies occupied their thoughts as to
their having met, that the squire and the captain were heard to enter
the hall. This ended their chat, and led to the reading of Warner’s
statement, which tended to confirm Miss Dove’s suspicions. We must,
however, leave the unsolved difficulty for the present, and freely
admit that Doctor Peters was right in one respect, viz., that the
aerial visitors had certainly created a great stir, and had induced
the Doves to question the pretensions of the financier, which were
evidently bold acts of audacity, intended for mischievous objects, for
Falcon had been drawing largely on the squire’s fortune to launch and
uphold an enterprise which had been considered most promising, until
it assumed a doubtful aspect after the arrival of the balloonists. By
this time, the doctor also knew that the financier had been partially
exposed, and was not successful with Miss Dove, who never had liked him.
After the attempt on the aeronaut’s life, Miss Dove saw, with a woman’s
instinct, that the wounded aeronaut had a bitter enemy, and with
this conviction she went to the room occupied by Miss Chain, on the
following day, with a view of getting information.
Miss Dove first spoke of the pleasure she had felt in making an ascent
by moonlight, and regretted that it had been spoiled by a mishap,
though only a slight one, as it had fortunately turned out to be,
Doctor Peters having made light of the injury.
“Then it is not serious?” said Miss Chain; “I am so glad to hear that.”
“No, it is not serious as a personal injury, but it casts a dark shadow
somewhere, and that is why I wanted to know how you were, and whether
you felt equal to having the chat which I proposed last evening when I
left you?”
“I am not quite up to it just now, I fear,” said the lady, “but I
daresay I shall be presently, Miss Dove, when I will send and let you
know.”
With this assurance, Miss Dove left her for a while.
In the meantime, Miss Chain saw Lucy, who advised her not to mention
the gentlemen’s names, even if she was called upon to disclose her own,
as it was a fact that neither the squire nor Miss Dove had any idea who
the balloonists really were, though, said Lucy, in her honest, blunt
way,--
“It is sure to come out, Miss Chain, so that it might be as well to
state that you had been helping the aeronaut in his work, and it being
completed, you were ready to take another situation.”
“Yes, Lucy, that would be truthful, and perhaps the right thing to do
under the circumstances.”
Miss Chain thanked Lucy for her advice and kind attention, and then
Lucy brought out a photograph which she thought Miss Chain had not
seen, as she was not very well on the day it was taken.
“Tom gave it to me,” said Lucy, “and it was given to him by the
gentleman who took it at the Crystal Palace. Very likely it will be
more useful to you than to me.”
“And may I do as I like with it, Lucy?” asked Miss Chain.
“Yes; show it to Miss Dove, if you like.”
“I recollect now, Lucy,” said Miss Chain, “that I had been upset about
the time you refer to by the spy, whose face I am certain I saw in the
photo below on the dining-room wall last evening, and which upset me
so.”
“Yes, I have heard about it, but don’t you worry, for as sure as you
sit there, Miss Chain, you are on the right path to overthrow your
adversary. Take my word for that, and I can tell you plainly that Miss
Dove never encouraged Mr Falcon; it is my master, the squire, who has
been taken in by him, and if I had your chance, Miss Chain, I would let
my young mistress know that you believe Falcon to be the same person
who imposed on you and your poor mother in Boulogne. However, I had
better go and tell Miss Dove that you are coming at once to see her.”
When Miss Chain entered the room, Miss Dove took a seat near her, and
commenced by saying,--
“I want to ask you the meaning of your remarks about the portrait in
the dining-room last evening. You were very much excited, and you
muttered to yourself, ‘He looks as he did in Boulogne, where he took
the watch and chain.’”
“I do not recollect saying that, Miss Dove.”
“Indeed, you did, and you also said, not remembering, perhaps,
that I was there, ‘To see him parading himself in disguise as he
did at Sydenham.’ Now, I want to know,” continued Miss Dove, “if
these remarks had any reference to what had occurred, or were they
delusions?”
“No; they were true, and I was trying most likely to relieve my
feelings as to what had actually taken place.”
“Poor girl! I can see that you have a grievance at heart which may yet
be redressed. I only wish that you would stay on with me here as my
friendly companion, for I should so much like to have someone with me
who was sympathetic and straightforward. Do you think you would like to
remain with me?”
“I would gladly do so, but, to be candid, I should wish first to
consult that estimable gentleman, the aeronaut, for I would not slight
him on any account.”
“I am much interested in all of you,” said Miss Dove, “and should like
to know the history of your troubles.”
“Then I will tell you frankly, Miss Dove, and will begin by saying, no
matter what your religious views may be, that I believe we were wafted
this way for some wise and useful object.”
“I join cordially in that sentiment, and whatever your history may be,
I do believe that you have been hardly dealt with.”
“My name is Chain, and my mother and I retired to Boulogne after the
death of my father, because our small fortune, saved by teaching and
thrift, was only just sufficient to keep us comfortably. In an evil
hour, a fine financier made our acquaintance under the pretence of
paying his addresses to me. He ultimately induced us to trust him with
all we possessed for re-investment in a new enterprise, as he said that
it was one which would pay a much higher rate of interest.”
“Miss Chain!” exclaimed her interrogator, with no small agitation, “you
are not only enlisting my sympathy for yourself and your mother, but
you are, without knowing it, suggesting that my dear father may have
been similarly entrapped, and by the same man, possibly; but pray go
on, I may profit immensely by what you are telling me.”
“Then, in an unfortunate hour, Miss Dove, we handed over all that we
had in the bank, when the villain absconded with this, together with
my father’s watch and chain, which, from their peculiar construction,
I feel sure I have seen him wearing at Sydenham; and the photo in your
dining-room represents the same man with the identical cable-laid watch
chain conspicuously portrayed.”
“What astonishing coincidences and villainy you are bringing to light,
Miss Chain; but I will not stop you in case Mr Falcon should come
before I can warn my father that it is too late.”
“I must further tell you that, owing to our state of poverty, we
started off to London to earn our daily bread. There we made the
acquaintance of Trigger, Lucy’s sweetheart, and he and your maid
introduced us to the aeronaut, who most kindly engaged us to do
needlework for him.”
“Yes? and where, please?” asked the squire’s daughter, with an excited
look in her eyes, which quite astonished Miss Chain.
“It was at the Crystal Palace that he saved us from starvation,”
replied Miss Chain; but she was sorry to see that Miss Dove was so much
moved by her story that she was crying and much upset.
On recovering herself, Miss Dove exclaimed,--
“How good and noble of him to act in that way.”
“I am glad to hear that you think so, Miss Dove, but I can give you
further proof of his having acted the good Samaritan.”
“Let me tell you, Miss Chain, before you go on, I discovered last
evening that I and the aeronaut had met before.”
“Yes, and I will remind you very easily, Miss Dove, when and where you
did so,” went on Miss Chain, as she drew from her pocket the photo
that Lucy had given her, representing the rescue of the lady from the
Crystal Palace lake by Harry Goodall.
Miss Dove, rising in great excitement, took a steadfast gaze at the
view, and exclaimed,--
“Yes, an accurate reproduction! There is no mistaking that figure,” she
emphatically observed, with her finger on the figure of the aeronaut,
as she dropped on to a lounge in a seemingly fainting condition.
Miss Chain flew to the bell rope and pulled it so energetically that
the squire, who was with Doctor Peters, his patient and the captain,
hurried up to his daughter’s sitting-room, and on finding out the state
she was in, called in the doctor who had followed the squire.
“What, dear Edith, is the matter?” asked her father.
As he spoke, he noticed the photograph on the lounge, as did Doctor
Peters, who was now by her side, and exclaimed,--
“What, more ballooning? Oh, dear, dear! When will this end?”
The squire, who was thinking of his daughter, did not take much notice
of what the doctor said, but endeavoured to call his attention to
Edith, who was slowly recovering herself, and exclaimed,--
“Don’t, my dear father, trouble the doctor.”
While the squire and he were examining the photo, the aeronaut and the
captain had begged to be admitted, and had come over to Miss Dove and
were saying a few kind words to revive her, not knowing the cause of
her attack, though Harry Goodall was reminded, by the appearance and
size of the photo, of that unexpected incident in his uncle’s presence,
when the ship photographer was announced, but he little thought that it
was actually one of the three photos that had been taken of the trial
trip of his air-ship on the palace lake.
“You can now plainly see, doctor,” said the squire, pointing to the
photo, “that my views are proving sounder than yours hour by hour; but
I thought it was Falcon who saved my daughter’s life?”
“Of course you thought that the financier rescued her, for did he not
tell you so in my presence,” cried the doctor. “You forget, however,
squire, that sensational pictures are not always to be relied upon.”
“That one may be,” retorted Miss Dove, in a firm voice, “for I declare
that Mr Falcon never put forth a finger to save me. It was this brave
gentleman who did so,” cried Edith, as she grasped the aeronaut’s hand
and drew him down by her side.
And while a fresh interchange of tender and grateful feeling was
proceeding, the squire, Doctor Peters and the captain were intently
looking at the respective figures in the photo.
Presently the squire exclaimed, with an undisguised amount of sarcastic
sharpness,--
“Falcon’s attitude is characteristic of the man. Don’t you think so,
captain?”
“I have only just seen it for the first time, Squire Dove,” replied the
captain, “and have not heard of the occurrence previously.”
“Then yours will be a weighty testimony,” said the squire. “Can you
recognise the persons here represented? Look at them, and give us your
frank opinion.”
“There sits Mr Falcon!” exclaimed the captain, “with his hand on the
side of a boat and his head bowed down--I’ll swear to him; and there
is my friend, the aeronaut, lifting a lady out of the water, who,
unmistakably bears the strongest resemblance to your daughter, squire.”
“Do let us retire below stairs,” cried the host. “The three invalids
will excuse us, I know, for I am not sure that I can summon patience
much longer to haggle with the doctor and his obstinacy.”
“I shall not give in by seeing a mere picture,” cried the doctor.
“Then you must be totally blind to ocular demonstration,” said the
captain, moving off with the squire.
But when once they had reached the hall, Squire Dove felt that he had
no desire or patience to listen to any further observations that the
doctor might wish to offer, so he was politely bowed out, when the
squire and the captain had a confidential chat until they were joined
by the aeronaut and Edith Dove, together with Miss Chain, whose name
had not been divulged as yet, for Edith was not well enough to enter
upon the thrilling disclosures she had listened to that morning. She
remembered, however, that a kindly-disposed policeman had told her at
the Thicket Hotel that she was saved by a scientific gentleman, whose
name was not mentioned.
But by way of a timely diversion, the squire proposed a stroll in the
park, to see how the balloon was getting on, for, said he,--
“The more Doctor Peters raves against it, the greater liking I seem to
have for it.”
Here, while the inspection of the balloon was going on, the gamekeeper
drew their attention to a paragraph in a local newspaper, which
contained a reference to the performance at Haywards Heath. It was as
follows:--
“A FLYING VISIT.--The extraordinary experiment lately made by a
Professor Scudder and his director, at Haywards Heath, with the
object of showing a new mode of flight, has led to inquiry respecting
the two individuals who so suddenly appeared in that part and who
disappeared so hastily. All sorts of conjectures have been formed as
to who they are and where they came from--fortunately a snap-shot
by a local photographer was taken just before the flying machine
started, when the quasi director lost part of his disguise and
Scudder was about to start. This photo has, we hear, been secured
by someone who is of opinion that the adventurers are not after all
Dutchmen, but two persons who have been obtaining money under false
pretences, and whose pretended flight through the air is thought to
be a mere ruse to draw off attention to a more extended ‘flight’ by
land and sea. Further enquiries are being made, we hear.”
“Quite right, too,” said the squire, “for they may turn out to be--”
“Hush, papa! the doctor is coming, and may as well be kept in ignorance
of this suspicion.”