A DISAPPEARANCE AND A REAPPEARANCE
Directly Edith and Miss Chain were on board the _Panther_, the Doves’
carriage put up at the Bridge Hotel in Newhaven, in compliance with
an order from the mate of the yacht _Panther_, who further instructed
the coachman where to wait with the carriage after the horses had been
baited.
When two full hours had elapsed, the coachman felt so anxious about
his ladies that he returned to the wharf to look after them, and was,
of course, astonished to notice that the vessel had vanished, but,
observing a wharfinger, he asked if he knew where the steamer had gone.
“Gone,” he said, with a knowing twinkle in his eye, “very likely to
Normandy; it’s a runaway match, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?” replied the coachman, whose temper was
rising. “Don’t poke fun at me, or you’ll find yourself in the wrong
box.”
“Well, if that isn’t an elopement or a case of kidnapping, I’m much
deceived. The fact is, that blooming _Panther_ was thought to be a
bit suspicious like, and if I were you, I’d just look up the harbour
master,” said Blucher Gray.
“Why, man,” cried the coachman, “you’re all at sea; my ladies came
expressly to see some gentleman coming from Cherbourg or Dieppe.”
“Do you mean the parties who went up in a balloon? Lor’ bless you,
I know ’em well, and helped to start them from Bishopstone when a
detective joined ’em. But don’t you know, coachman,” said Blucher Gray,
for it was none other than he, “that there’s no boat due yet?”
“My good man,” replied the coachman, “you will drive me mad if you say
much more.”
“Well, it’s my opinion that you have been hoaxed, and I believe I’ve
been served out myself. You see that man coming in a fly, he’s Dick
Trimmons. I’ll speak to him; we shall hear something more perhaps. Hi!
Trimmons,” cried Blucher Gray; “hold on a minute with your trap, and
tell us what you know about that queer craft the _Panther_, and where
she has gone to.”
“Didn’t know she was gone,” said Dick Trimmons. “I brought over this
morning your lodger, that black devil of a man with his big black
spectacles, from Seaford.”
“And where is he now, Dick, eh? I suppose you know the coachman here?
He has lost his ladies; they come from Wedwell Park.”
“Lost his ladies! You don’t mean that?”
“I do, indeed,” cried the Doves’ coachman. “The fact is, I’m mighty
anxious about them.”
“Hold on,” cried Blucher Gray, “here comes the harbour master and one
or two others; they have heard something’s up, I’ll lay a wager.”
“Beg your pardon, sir, but didn’t you ask my ladies to come over and
meet the balloon gentlemen on their way back from Cherbourg, sir?” said
the coachman, addressing the harbour master.
“No, indeed, coachman,” replied he, quite astounded. “But why do you
ask?”
“Well, sir, because Miss Dove and her friend went on board the steam
yacht _Panther_, thinking, I believe, to meet you and their friends.”
“Then I’m afraid there’s been foul play. However, I will immediately
wire across and send out a tug, though I fear it is too late to stop
them. By the way, Trimmons, who was that queer-looking man you have
been driving over from Seaford lately? He’s stone blind, they say.”
“My wife’s lodger, sir,” answered Gray.
“But where has he gone now?”
“That’s exactly the very point we’re discussing,” said Trimmons.
“I can see it all,” cried the harbour master; “we’re all completely
done. The fellow was that rascal Falcon in disguise, and he has carried
off Miss Dove and her friend, God knows where. Well, it’s no use your
stopping here, coachman, you had better make the best of your way home
to Wedwell Park. I wish I could go with you to break the matter to the
squire. However, I’ll send my confidential clerk.”
“This scoundrel Falcon owes my wife for his lodgings,” remarked Gray,
as the three walked towards the stables.
“And me,” cried Trimmons, “for a lot of journeys to and from Seaford,
which he has not paid yet. I thought he was a millionaire, and had lost
his sight by pulling in so much cash.”
“By golly,” said Blucher Gray, “it looks as if he could see far enough.
It’s us who were blind. I was never taken in so in all my life. Hullo!
here comes Mr Strive, who, like us, saw the balloonists off from
Bishopstone. How are you, Mr Strive? There’s bad news stirring, I
regret to say, but we will tell you about it at the hotel.”
“Nothing happened to the aeronauts, I hope?” asked the ex-chief officer.
“No, they’re all right, but Squire Dove’s daughter and her companion
are carried off by that swindler Falcon, in the _Panther_ steam yacht,
as we believe, and the wretch has made off owing money right and left,
too.”
“You don’t say so?” cried Mr Strive.
“What has happened?” asked the squire, as the carriage entered Wedwell
Park, for the grave faces of the coachman and of the harbour-master’s
clerk, at once suggested some mishap, while the absence of the ladies
added to his anxiety.
“Let me introduce myself,” replied the occupant of the carriage. “I am
the harbour-master’s representative, and wish to state that a steam
yacht went out unexpectedly at high water, and we fear that Miss Dove
and her companion must have been, by some strange mistake, on board her
at the time. We have sent out a tug, and wired to the French coast, as
the _Panther_ people with your ladies, squire, may have gone out to
meet the Dieppe passenger boat.”
“What in the name of fortune,” cried the squire, “had my daughter to do
with a steam yacht? And do have the goodness to tell me whether your
people invited the ladies over to Newhaven Bridge at twelve o’clock?”
“Yes, these,” remarked Doctor Peters, who had joined the squire, “are
most important questions.”
“I really don’t know,” replied the puzzled clerk.
“Is it possible,” exclaimed the squire, “that this monster has
outwitted us all, and robbed us besides? I can see now the meaning of
Warner’s telegram to Edith, which arrived two hours after the carriage
left. Here, read it, doctor, for I am feeling faint.”
“Yes, squire, I’ll do so while you rest. It says,--‘I warn the ladies
and the squire not to go near Newhaven.’”
“What a pity that telegram came so late,” exclaimed the squire, so
feebly that it was evident he was seriously ill.
In another minute he would have fallen down in a fainting fit, if
Doctor Peters’s quick eye had not noticed the change, and, running to
the squire’s assistance, he placed him on a lounge, while the requisite
remedies were forthwith administered under Doctor Peters’s personal
superintendence. It was fortunate that he was sufficiently well to
diagnose and treat the attack, but he immediately called in from Lewes
medical help, because, after a partial revival, the heart’s action of
the squire continued very weak.
Mr Penfold and many other friends who had ascertained the actual
position of affairs had afforded the squire all the consolation that
they possibly could in his distress, when a letter arrived from Mr
William Goodall, to say that he was coming next day with some good
news. This had quite a magic effect on the squire, as he construed the
letter to imply that Goodall had seen, or heard some cheering tidings
of Miss Dove and Miss Chain. So Doctor Peters and the rest of the
household kept up this delusive idea.
However, the hope and faith this belief inspired in the mind of the
squire was excusably encouraged, and to foster it, preparations were
set on foot to give a warm reception to Mr William Goodall, including
an impromptu day of rejoicing. Bennet was therefore told to provide
what amount of sport and diversion he could. The village band and one
from Lewes were ordered, and tents were erected in preparation.
On the following morning, when the squire, who was nearly himself
again, and his friends had been amusing themselves in the punts on
the fish-pond, a shriek was heard, coming from the direction of the
gamekeeper’s cottage, and Mrs Bennet was seen standing outside,
looking as pale as death, while she pointed towards a quiet,
gentlemanly-looking man, who was approaching the Hall. Squire Dove,
whose eyes were steadfastly fixed on this figure, exclaimed,--
“If I were a believer in ghosts, doctor, I should say that, for the
first time in my life, I had seen one.”
“Ay, how extremely like Henry Goodall who was drowned that stranger is!”
While the squire and Doctor Peters were agreed on this point, Mrs
Bennet drew near to explain that the gentleman who had so alarmed her,
and who looked the very image of William Goodall’s brother who died at
sea, frightened her by suddenly alighting from a carriage in the lower
road, and said that his brother William, the other occupant of the
carriage, was going round to the Hall, but that he had come in by the
cottage gate so as not to frighten the squire until his brother William
had gone in advance to announce that he, Henry, was not drowned as had
been reported. It was this unexpected news from a supposed defunct man
that had made Mrs Bennet scream.
“Don’t be alarmed!” said the squire, “there comes William Goodall
from his carriage, and now the two brothers are standing shoulder to
shoulder as if they were debating what they should do. This is a very
remarkable incident,” added the squire, “for yonder we get another
proof of how we have been swindled by Falcon.”
“I wouldn’t allude to his name, squire, unless the Goodalls do so
first. See, they are coming down to meet us,” cried the doctor. “Let us
pause a moment and meet them half way, squire.”