NETTA ACTS INDEPENDENTLY.
"It seems to me, Hilda, that somehow or other we are wasting our time,"
Netta said one morning suddenly, as they were sitting together.
"How do you mean, Netta?"
"Well, you see, we relied a great deal on being able to overhear
conversation from a distance; and, except those few words we gathered in
the Park, we have absolutely done nothing that way."
"But how can we do more than we are doing?"
"I don't know; that is what is troubling me. You know, dear, that I am
quite content to give up my own work to help you. At first, of course,
aunt and I would have stayed here, at any rate for a time, to keep you
company; but your uncle has been dead now for more than eight months,
and time is going on. If I were really helping you I would stop, if it
were five years; but in fact I am not helping you in the way we
intended."
"You are helping me, Netta!" Hilda exclaimed with tears in her eyes.
"How should I have got on through all this sad time if you had not been
here to comfort and cheer me?"
"Yes, but the necessity for that is over. You have your friends, and
though you don't go out yet, you often go to Lady Moulton's and some of
your other friends', and they come to see you."
"Yes, and you will never go with me, Netta, nor see them when they
come."
"No, dear; I have nothing in common with them. I do not know the people
of whom you talk, and should simply sit there uncomfortably, so I prefer
to be out of it altogether. Then I really miss my work. Ever since you
came to us some eight years ago I have been teaching eight or ten hours
a day. I like the work; it is immensely interesting, and I am happy in
seeing my pupils improve."
"And all this means," Hilda said sorrowfully, "you are going to say that
it is time for you to go back."
"No, it does not necessarily mean that--there is an alternative; I must
either be doing something or go back."
"But, as I said before, Netta, what can we do, more than we have done?"
"That is what I have been thinking, Hilda. Anyhow, I mean to try to do
something before I give it up and go to Germany again."
"I warn you, Netta, that I shall be furious if you do that. I am my own
mistress now, for Mr. Pettigrew will let me do as I like now I am
nineteen, and am quite determined that our old plan shall be carried
out, and that you shall start an institution like that of Professor
Menzel somewhere near London. You have been twelve months away, your
pupils have already taken to other teachers, and there cannot be the
least occasion for your assistance in an institution that is now well
stocked with teachers, while here you could do enormous good. Anyhow,
whether you stay or not, I shall, as soon as all this is settled, take a
large house standing in its own grounds, in some healthy place near
London, and obtain teachers."
"Well, we need not talk of that just yet," Netta said quietly; "it will
be time enough when I have failed in carrying out my plans."
"But what are your plans?"
"I have not quite settled myself; and when I do I mean to work entirely
in my own way, and shall say nothing about it until I come to you and
say I have succeeded, or I have failed."
Hilda opened her eyes in surprise.
"But why should I be kept in the dark?"
"Because, dear, you might not approve of my plans," Netta replied
coolly.
"You are not thinking of doing anything foolish, I hope?" Hilda
exclaimed.
"If it were foolish it would be excusable where the counsels of wisdom
have failed," Netta laughed; and then more seriously, "Nothing would be
foolish if it could possibly lead to the discovery of Walter's hiding
place."
That afternoon, when Hilda drove out with Miss Purcell to make some
calls, Netta rang the bell, and when Tom Roberts came in she said:
"I want to have a long talk with you, Roberts. But mind, what I say is
to be kept a perfect secret between ourselves."
"Yes, miss," he said in surprise.
"Now, sit down," she went on; "we can talk more comfortably so. Now,
Roberts, there is no doubt that we are not making much headway with our
search."
"That we are not, Miss Netta," he agreed. "I did think that we had
gained something when we traced him to that house on Pentonville Hill,
but it does not seem that anything has come of it, after all."
"Then it is quite time that we took some other steps," she said
decisively.
"I am ready, miss," he replied eagerly. "You tell me what to do, and I
am game to do it."
"Well, there are two or three things I have in my mind. First of all, I
want to be able to watch John Simcoe and this Pentonville man when they
are talking together."
"Yes, I understand," he said; "but how is it to be done?"
"That is what I want to find out. Now, in the first place, about this
house. Which way did the window look of the room where there was a
light?"
"That window was at the side of the house, miss; a little way round the
corner. We noticed the light there, but there was another window looking
out on the front. We did not see any light there, as the shutters were
closed."
"And you say that the curtains of the other window were pulled very
close?"
"Yes, they crossed each other most of the way down."
"Now, the question in my mind, Roberts, is which would be easier--to cut
a slit in the curtain, or to bore a hole in the shutter, or to take a
brick out carefully from the side wall and then to deepen the hole until
we got to the wall-paper, and then make a slight hole there?"
Roberts looked at her with astonishment. "Do you really mean it, miss?"
"Certainly I mean it; it seems to me that our only chance of ever
finding Walter is to overhear those men's talk."
"Then, miss, I should say that the simplest way would be to cut a window
pane out."
"Yes; but, you see, it is pretty certain that that curtain will not be
drawn until they come in, and they would notice it at once. If we took
out a pane in the front window the shutter would prevent our seeing or
hearing, and the man would be sure to notice the pane was missing as he
walked up from the gate to the house."
"I should say, miss, that the best plan would be for me to manage to get
into the house some time during the day and to hide in that room, under
the table or sofa or somewhere, and listen to them."
She shook her head.
"In the first place, Roberts, you would certainly be murdered if they
found you there."
"I would take my chance of that, miss; and you may be sure that I would
take a brace of the General's pistols with me, and they would not find
it such easy work to get rid of me."
"That may be so," Netta said, "but if in the struggle you shot them
both, our last chance of ever hearing of Walter would be gone. You
yourself might be tried for murder, and it would be assumed, of course,
that you were a burglar; for the explanation that you had broken into
the house only to hear a conversation would scarcely be believed.
Moreover, you must remember that we don't know how often these men
meet. Simcoe has not been there since you tracked him there six months
ago, and the only thing we have since found out is that the man I saw
him with in the park is the man who lives in that house. It would never
do for you to make an entrance into the house night after night and week
after week, to run the risk of being detected there, or seized as you
entered, or caught by the police as a burglar. No, as far as I can see,
the only safe plan is to get out a brick very carefully in the side wall
and to make a hole behind it through the paper. It might be necessary to
make an entry into the house before this was done, so as to decide which
was the best spot for an opening. A great deal would depend upon the
paper in the room. If it is a light paper, with only a small amount of
pattern upon it, any hole large enough to see through might be noticed.
If it is a dark paper, well covered, a hole might be made without any
fear of its catching the eye. You see, it must be a rather large hole,
for, supposing the wall is only nine inches thick, a person standing
outside could not see what was passing inside unless the hole were a
good size."
"But I doubt much if you would be able to hear them, Miss Netta."
"No, I don't think that I should; especially as people talking of things
of that sort, even if they had no great fear of being overheard, would
speak in a low voice. But that would not matter if I could see their
faces. I should know what they were saying."
Roberts did not think it right to offer any remark on what appeared to
him to be impossible, and he confined himself to saying in a respectful
voice, "Indeed, Miss Netta."
"I am stone-deaf," she said, "but have learned to read what people are
saying from the movement of their lips."
Although the "Indeed, miss," was as respectful as before, Netta saw that
he did not in the slightest degree believe her.
"Just go to the other end of the room, Roberts, and make some remark to
yourself. Move your lips in the same way as if you were talking, but do
not make any sound."
Roberts, with military obedience, marched to the other end of the room,
placed himself in a corner, and turned round, facing her. His lips
moved, and, confident that she could not know what he was saying, he
expressed his natural sentiments.
The girl at once repeated the words: "Well, I'm jiggered! This is a rum
start; Miss Netta has gone clean off her head."
Roberts' jaw dropped, and he flushed up to the hair.
"I am sure," he began; but he was stopped by the girl's merry laugh.
"Do not apologize, Roberts; it was natural enough that you should be
surprised. Well, you see I can do as I say. We will now go on with our
talk."
Greatly abashed, Tom Roberts returned to the chair, murmuring to himself
as he sat down, "Well, I'm blowed!" when he was roughly recalled to the
necessity of keeping his mouth shut by her quiet remark, "Never mind
about being blowed at present, Roberts; let us talk over another plan.
Who are the keepers of the house in Jermyn Street?"
"It is kept by a man and his wife, miss. He has been a butler, I
believe, and his wife was a cook. He waits upon the gentlemen who lodge
there, and she cooks. They have a girl who sweeps and does the bedrooms
and the scrubbing and that sort of thing."
"What sort of a girl is she, Roberts?"
"She seems a nice sort of young woman, miss. Andrew has spoken to her
more than I have, because, you see, my get-up aint likely to take much
with a young girl."
"I suppose she is not very much attached to her place?"
"Lor', no, miss; she told Andrew that she was only six months up from
the country, and they don't pay her but eight pounds a year, and pretty
hard work she has to do for it."
"Well, Roberts, I want to take her place."
"You want----" and Roberts' voice failed him in his astonishment.
"Yes, I want to take her place, Roberts. I should think that if you or
Andrew were to tell her that you have a friend up from the country who
wants just such a place, and is ready to pay five pounds to get one, she
might be ready to take the offer; especially as you might say that you
knew of a lady who is in want of an under-housemaid and you thought that
you could get her the place."
"As to that, miss, I have no doubt that she would leave to-morrow, if
she could get five pounds. She told Andrew that she hated London, and
should go down home and take a country place as soon as she had saved up
money to do so."
"All the better, Roberts; then all she would have to do would be to say
that she had heard of a place near home, and wanted to leave at once.
She did not wish to inconvenience them, but that she had a cousin who
was just coming up to London and wanted a place, and that she would jump
at it. She could say that her cousin had not been in service before, but
that she was a thorough good cleaner and hard worker."
"And do you mean that you would go as a servant, Miss Netta? Why, it
would not be right for you to do so."
"Anything would be right that led to the discovery of Walter's hiding
place, Roberts. I have been accustomed to teaching, and I have helped my
aunt to look after the house for years, and I do not in the slightest
degree mind playing the part of a servant for a short time, in order to
try and get at the bottom of this matter. You think that it can be
managed?"
"I am sure it can be managed right enough, miss; but what Miss Covington
would say, if she knew that I had a hand in bringing it about, I can't
say."
"Well, you won't be drawn into the matter. I shall say enough to my aunt
to satisfy her that I am acting for the best, and shall simply, when I
go, leave a note for your mistress, telling her that I have gone to work
out an idea that I have had in my mind, and that it would be no use for
her to inquire into the matter until she hears of me again."
"What am I to tell Andrew, miss?"
"Simply tell him that a young woman has been engaged to watch Simcoe in
his lodgings. Then tell him the story he has to tell the girl. I shall
want three or four days to get my things ready. I shall have to go to a
dressmaker's and tell her that I want three or four print gowns for a
young servant about my own figure, and as soon as they are ready I shall
be ready, too."
"Well, miss, I will do as you tell me, but I would say, quite
respectful, I hope that you will bear in mind, if things goes wrong,
that I was dead against it, and that it was only because you said that
it was our only chance of finding Master Walter that I agreed to lend a
hand."
"I will certainly bear that in mind," Netta said with a smile. "Talk it
over with Andrew to-night; but remember he is only to know that a young
woman has been engaged to keep a watch on Simcoe."
"He will be glad enough to hear, miss, that someone else is going to do
something. He says the Colonel is so irritable because he has found out
so little that there is no bearing with him."
"The Colonel is trying," Netta laughed. "As you know, he comes here two
or three times a week and puts himself into such rages that, as he
stamps up and down the room, I expect to hear a crash and to find that
the dining-room ceiling has fallen down. He is a thoroughly kind-hearted
man, but is a dreadful specimen of what an English gentleman may come to
after he has had the command of an Indian regiment for some years, and
been accustomed to have his will obeyed in everything. It is very bad
for a man."
"It is a good deal worse for his servant, miss," Tom Roberts said, in a
tone of deep sympathy for his comrade. "I doubt whether I could have
stood it myself; but though Andrew expresses his feelings strong
sometimes, I know that if you offered him a good place, even in
Buckingham Palace, he would not leave the Colonel."
Two days later Netta heard that the girl in Jermyn Street had joyfully
accepted the offer, and had that morning told her master that she had
heard that she was wanted badly at home, and that a cousin of hers would
be up in a day or two, and would, she was sure, be very glad to take her
place. The master agreed to give her a trial, if she looked a clean and
tidy girl.
"I shall be clean and tidy, Roberts; and I am sure I shall do no
injustice to her recommendation."
Roberts shook his head. The matter was, to his mind, far too serious to
be joked about, and he almost felt as if he were acting in a treasonable
sort of way in aiding to carry out such a project.
On the following Monday Hilda, on coming down to breakfast, found a note
on the table. She opened it in haste, seeing that it was in Netta's
handwriting, and her eyes opened in surprise and almost dismay as she
read:
"MY DARLING HILDA: I told you that I had a plan. Well, I am off to
carry it out. It is of no use your asking what it is, or where I am
going. You will hear nothing of me until I return to tell you
whether I have failed or succeeded. Aunt knows what I am going to
do."
Hilda at once ran upstairs to Miss Purcell's room.
"Where has Netta gone?" she exclaimed. "Her letter has given me quite a
turn. She says that you know; but I feel sure that it is something very
foolish and rash."
"I thought that you had a better opinion of Netta's common sense," Miss
Purcell said placidly, smiling a little at Hilda's excitement. "It is
her arrangement, dear, and not mine, and I am certainly not at liberty
to give you any information about it. I do not say that I should not
have opposed it in the first instance, had I known of it, but I
certainly cannot say that there is anything foolish in it, and I admit
that it seems to me to offer a better chance of success than any plan
that has yet been tried. I don't think there is any occasion for anxiety
about her. Netta has thought over her plans very carefully, and has gone
to work in a methodical way; she may fail, but if so I don't think that
it will be her fault."
"But why could she not tell me as well as you?" Hilda asked rather
indignantly.
"Possibly because she did not wish to raise hopes that might not be
fulfilled; but principally, I own, because she thought you would raise
objections to it, and she was bent upon having her own way. She has
seconded you well, my dear, all through this business."
"Yes, I know, aunt; she has been most kind in every respect."
"Well, my dear, then don't grudge her having a little plan of her own."
"I don't grudge her a bit," Hilda said impetuously, "and, as you are
quite satisfied, I will try to be quite satisfied too. But, you see, it
took me by surprise; and I was so afraid that she might do something
rash and get into trouble somehow. You know really I am quite afraid of
this man, and would certainly far rather run a risk myself than let her
do so."
"Of that I have no doubt, Hilda; but I am quite sure that, if the case
had been reversed, you would have undertaken this little plan that she
has hit upon, to endeavor to relieve her of a terrible anxiety, just as
she is doing for you."
"Well, I will be patient, aunt. How long do you think that she will be
away?"
"That is more than I can tell you; but at any rate she has promised to
write me a line at least twice a week, and, should I think it right, I
can recall her."
"That is something, aunt. You cannot guess whether it is likely to be a
week or a month?"
Miss Purcell shook her head.
"It will all depend upon whether she succeeds in hitting upon a clew as
to where Walter is. If she finds that she has no chance of so doing she
will return; if, on the other hand, she thinks that there is a
probability that with patience she will succeed, she will continue to
watch and wait."
"Miss Netta is not ill, I hope, miss?" Roberts said, when he came in to
clear the breakfast things away.
"No she has gone away on a short visit," Hilda replied. Had she been
watching the old soldier's face, she might have caught a slight
contortion that would have enlightened her as to the fact that he knew
more than she did about the matter; but she had avoided looking at him,
lest he should read in her face that she was in ignorance as to Netta's
whereabouts. She would have liked to have asked when she went; whether
she took a box with her, and whether she had gone early that morning or
late the evening before; but she felt that any questions of the sort
would show that she was totally in the dark as to her friend's
movements. In fact Netta had walked out early that morning, having sent
off a box by the carrier on the previous Saturday when Hilda was out;
Roberts having himself carried it to the receiving house.
It was four or five days before Dr. Leeds called again.
"Is Miss Purcell out?" he asked carelessly, when some little time had
elapsed without her making her appearance.
"Is that asked innocently, Dr. Leeds?" Hilda said quickly.
The doctor looked at her in genuine surprise.
"Innocently, Miss Covington? I don't think that I quite understand you."
"I see, doctor, that I have been in error. I suspected you of being an
accomplice of Netta's in a little scheme in which she is engaged on her
own account." And she then told him about her disappearance, of the
letter that she had received, and of the conversation with her aunt.
Dr. Leeds was seriously disturbed.
"I need hardly say that this comes as a perfect surprise to me, Miss
Covington, and I say frankly a very unpleasant one. But the only
satisfactory feature is that the young lady's aunt does not absolutely
disapprove of the scheme, whatever it is, although it is evident that
her approval is by no means a warm one. This is a very serious matter. I
have the highest opinion of your friend's judgment and sense, but I own
that I feel extremely uneasy at the thought that she has, so to speak,
pitted herself against one of the most unscrupulous villains I have ever
met, whose past conduct shows that he would stop at nothing, and who is
playing for a very big stake. It would be as dangerous to interfere
between a tiger and his prey as to endeavor to discover the secret on
which so much depends."
"I feel that myself, doctor, and I own that I'm exceedingly anxious.
Aunt has had two short letters from her. Both are written in pencil, but
the envelope is in ink, and in her usual handwriting. I should think it
probable that she took with her several directed envelopes. The letters
are very short. The first was: 'I am getting on all right, aunt, and am
comfortable. Too early to say whether I am likely to discover anything.
Pray do not fidget about me, nor let Hilda do so. There is nothing to be
uneasy about.' The second was as nearly as possible in the same words,
except that she said, 'You and Hilda must be patient. Rome was not built
in a day, and after so many clever people have failed you cannot expect
that I can succeed all at once.'"
"That is good as far as it goes," the doctor said, "but you see it does
not go very far. It is not until success is nearly reached that the
danger will really begin. I do not mind saying to you that Miss Purcell
is very dear to me. I have not spoken to her on the subject, as I wished
to see how my present partnership was likely to turn out. I am wholly
dependent upon my profession, and until I felt my ground thoroughly I
determined to remain silent. You can imagine, therefore, how troubled I
am at your news. Were it not that I have such implicit confidence in her
judgment I should feel it still more; but even as it is, when I think
how unscrupulous and how desperate is the man against whom she has,
single-handed, entered the lists, I cannot but be alarmed."
"I am very glad at what you have told me, doctor. I had a little hope
that it might be so. It seemed to me impossible that you could be living
for four months with such a dear girl without being greatly attracted by
her. Of course I know nothing of her feelings. The subject is one that
has never been alluded to between us, but I am sure that no girl living
is more fitted than she is to be the wife of a medical man. I would give
much to have Netta back again, but Miss Purcell is obdurate. She says
that, knowing as she does what Netta is doing, she does not think that
she is running any risk--at any rate, none proportionate to the
importance of finding a clew to Walter's hiding place."
"Will you ask her if she will write to her niece and urge her to return,
saying how anxious you are about her? Or, if she will not do that,
whether she will release her from her promise of secrecy, so that she
may let us know what she is doing?"
"I will go and ask her now; I will bring her down so that you can add
your entreaties to mine, doctor."
But Miss Purcell refused to interfere.
"I consider Netta's scheme to be a possible one," she said, "though I am
certainly doubtful of its success. But she has set her heart upon it,
and I will do nothing to balk her. I do not say that I am free from
anxiety myself, but my confidence in Netta's cleverness, and I may say
prudence, is such that I believe that the risk she is running is very
slight. It would be cruel, and I think wrong at the present moment, when
above all things it is necessary that her brain should be clear, to
distress and trouble her by interfering with her actions."
"Perhaps you are right, Miss Purcell," the doctor said thoughtfully.
"Being totally in the dark in the matter, I am not justified in giving a
decisive opinion, but I will admit that it would not conduce either to
her comfort or to the success of her undertaking were we to harass her
by interfering in any way with her plan, which, I have no doubt, has
been thoroughly thought out before she undertook it. No one but a madman
would shout instructions or warnings to a person performing a dangerous
feat requiring coolness and presence of mind. Such, I take it, is the
scheme, whatever it is, in which she is engaged; and as you are the only
one who knows what that scheme is, I must, however reluctantly, abide by
your decision. When Miss Covington tells you the conversation that we
have had together you will recognize how deeply I am interested in the
matter."