At the last words uttered by Mr Whittrick, Charley Vining started
forward, and gazed at the speaker as if he would have devoured the
ordinary-looking slip of paper rustling before him. It was with the
greatest difficulty that he refrained from snatching the memorandum from
its holder; for in every respect save one, Mr Whittrick, of the
black-velvet cap, was outwardly an excessively slow man. He had crawled
to the speaking-tube and crawled back, and when he took the slip of
paper from the clerk, it was as if the effort was too much for him--so
much, in fact, that he had hard work to wipe his double eyeglasses.
But we said that there was an exception, and this lay in Mr Whittrick's
eyes, which gave a sharpness to his whole appearance, as they twinkled
and darted and played as it were, while they displayed the activity of
their owner's brains.
But, apparently satisfied that if he kept him waiting half an hour
longer, Charley Vining would not say anything that would be of service
for information of any kind, Mr Whittrick commenced reading:
"9th instant. Miss Ella Bedford, age about twenty; fair; grey eyes;
thick braided hair--_not false_; height about five feet two; dressed in
deep mourning; arrived by forty-five, a.m., train from Laneton. Robert
Wilks, porter, Number 93, called four-wheeled cab, V.R. 09876, John
Round driver. Luggage: canvas-covered box, black enamelled bag, and
leather wallet, _not addressed_. Set down at 19 Crescent Villas,
Regent's-park--Mr Saint Clair Marter's. Cab man paid. No farther
communication; but footman averse to taking in luggage, whether from
idleness or particular reasons not known; shall know shortly, if
necessary. Cab returned to terminus."
"Let me see," continued Mr Whittrick, turning the paper on the other
side. "No, that is all we know at present;" and he looked at Charley,
who, mute with astonishment, was staring hard at him.
"Why, good heavens! how did you know that?" he cried. "That is all I
wanted to know."
"At present--at present!" said Mr Whittrick, with a smile.
"But I expected days of waiting and anxiety," cried Charley, eagerly
seizing the paper.
"Possibly," said Mr Whittrick; "but there are times, you see, when we
are speedy in our movements."
"But I am astounded!" cried Charley. "You make me almost to believe in
magicians."
Mr Whittrick smiled deprecatingly and shrugged his shoulders.
"How did you obtain the information?" cried Charley.
"My dear sir," said Mr Whittrick, "that is my profession. If you go to
a doctor and he gives you a prescription which cures you, do you ask him
how he discovered his drugs? Of course not. You came to me for
assistance, and showed me that you were ready to pay liberally for that
assistance, and, of course, I set to work instanter."
"But is that--are you sure--that Miss--that the young lady is there?"
"Certainly not," said Mr Whittrick; "some time has passed since then.
But I am ready to make affidavit that she was there. Now then, sir,
what can I do for you next?"
"Nothing more," said Charley; "I am quite satisfied."
"Do I understand you to say you consider my efforts sufficient?"
"Quite," said Charley.
"Very good, my dear sir," said Mr Whittrick; "then all I can say is,
that it has been a most satisfactory interview for both parties; only
recollect that you may want me again, and that you have paid me so
liberally, that there is a large balance in your favour, which I am
ready to devote to you at a moment's notice."
"You would rather not inform me how you obtained that information, I
presume?" said Charley, turning on the threshold, to display to the
high-priest of private-inquiry a thoroughly mystified countenance.
"Quite out of the question," said Mr Whittrick, smiling; and the next
minute Charley was bowed out, to descend the stairs, taking no heed of
the scowls of those who had been kept waiting during the long interview.
"Where to next, sir?" said a voice; and Charley started to find that the
cabman, who had not been paid, was naturally enough waiting the return
of his fare.
"19 Crescent Villas, Regents-park," said Charley abstractedly; but the
next moment he had altered his mind, and changed his order for Long's
Hotel, where he arrived elate, but confused, so utterly incomprehensible
seemed the power of the private inquirer.
Light came through at last, and seemed to cut through his brain with a
sharp pang. It was all plain enough now: another had been seeking
information, even as he had sought it, and the news he had obtained was
only second-hand. But who had been beforehand with him, while he had
been wasting time with his own ineffectual unassisted efforts?
There was no need for much consideration. The reply to his question was
quick enough in arriving, burdened too with bitterness: and the answer
was--
"Max Bray!"
Volume 2, Chapter XIX.