A SINGULAR ADVENTURE ON THE THAMES EMBANKMENT.
"He saw before him, at a distance of some thirty yards, as nearly as
he could judge, the figure of a woman standing upon the stone ramparts
of the Embankment, close to Cleopatra's Needle. The light of a lamp
was shining upon her form, which was stooping forward in the direction
of the river.
"It had already been mentioned that the tide on this night was
unusually high, and our reporter was apprehensive, from the position
of the woman, that she was contemplating suicide. If so she had chosen
a favorable moment to put her sad design into execution, for there was
no person near enough to prevent her had she been expeditious. She
looked neither to the right nor to the left, but down before her on
the rolling river. Our reporter hastened his steps, in fear least he
should be too late to arrest her purpose.
"Unseen by them another man was approaching the woman, but not so
rapidly as our reporter. This was a policeman who had emerged from the
shadows of the Waterloo steps on the opposite side, and as, when he
started, he was nearer to her than our reporter, they both reached her
at the same moment. Each becoming aware of the other's presence, they
would have shown recognition of it had not their attention been
diverted by a sufficiently startling proceeding on the part of the
woman. Still unaware that there were witnesses of her movements, she
leaned forward at a perilous angle, and with all her strength threw
some heavy object into the water. The force she used destroyed her
balance, and she would have fallen into the river had not the
policeman and our reporter laid violent hands upon her, and dragged
her from her dangerous position on the ramparts.
"'Just in time, thank God!' said our reporter.
"'Just too late,' retorted the policeman. 'A moment sooner, and we
should have saved her baby.'
"'Her baby!' exclaimed our reporter.
"'Yes. Didn't you hear the poor thing give a scream?'
"'No.'
"'You must be hard of hearing. First a sob, then a scream. Now, then,
own up!'
"He shook the woman roughly, but obtained no response from her. She
was cowering to the flagstones, her face hidden in her hands.
"Our reporter is not the stamp of man to stand idly by while the life
of a human being is in danger. He stripped off his coat and waistcoat
with the speed of lightning.
"'That's your sort,' said the policeman. 'I can't swim; you can.'
"'Not a stroke,' said our reporter, and was about to plunge into the
river when the woman sprang up and caught his arm.
"'For God's sake,' she said, trembling with agitation, 'do not risk
your life for nothing.'
"'Your baby is drowning,' cried our reporter. 'Let me go!' He strove
vainly to extricate himself from her clutch.
"'You shall not, you shall not!' said the woman. 'As Heaven is my
judge, I have done no wrong. I have no baby; I came out alone. You are
a gentleman. By all that is sacred I speak the truth!'
"'The policeman says he heard a scream.'
"'He is mistaken. I beg you to believe me. Oh, unhappy woman that I
am? Have I not one friend in all the wide world?'
"It was not alone her words that carried conviction with them, it was
her deep distress, and the evident sincerity with which she spoke.
Moreover, now that our reporter had the opportunity of observing her
closely, he saw that she was not of a common stamp. There was a
refinement in her voice and manner which impressed him.
"'I believe you,' he said, and slowly put on his waistcoat and coat.
"'The chance is lost,' said the policeman, with a scornful smile; 'the
poor thing is dead by this time. A put-up job, my man. I wasn't born
yesterday.'
"He had noted the dialogue between the woman and our reporter, some
portion of which had escaped him, and his suspicions were aroused. He
was not entirely without justification. Seeing upon one side of her a
policeman, and on the other side a gentleman, the woman, being
undoubtedly of the better class, had gravitated naturally toward our
reporter. Thus at once was established, without premeditation, a
conflict of interests in the eyes of the policeman. He represented the
Law, which is invariably more suspicious than sympathetic. Opposing
him were two strangers who might be in collusion. Hunting in couples,
one of either sex, was a common trick of the criminal classes, with
which every policeman is familiar. The officer with whom we are
dealing was not of an analytic turn; he jumped rather at conclusions
than motives; therefore, he pronounced the verdict first and examined
the evidence afterward, or left it to others to examine. All that he
was honestly concerned in was the performance of his duty.
"'Did you not hear her say,' said our reporter, 'that she was alone,
and no baby with her?'
"'I heard something of the sort,' replied the policeman, candidly,
believing it is another matter. 'I believe in my own ears. Are you a
confederate of hers?'
"Our reporter laughed, and his laugh strengthened the policeman's
suspicions and excited his ire.
"'Perhaps you will both deny,' he said, 'that something was thrown
into the river.'
"'I certainly heard a splash,' said our reporter, and he looked at the
woman for confirmation, but she said nothing.
"'We'll fish it up, whatever it is,' said the policeman. 'If it isn't
a baby--which I say it is, as I heard it cry--it's stolen property.
Pretty nigh as bad.' So saying, he blew his whistle.
"The sound terrified the woman; she clung to our reporter.
"'What need is there to summon assistance?' asked our reporter.
"'I know what I'm up to,' replied the policeman. 'I'll trouble you to
come to the police station.
"'I intend to do so. Are you going to charge this lady?'
"A grateful sob escaped the woman, produced by the reference to her as
a lady no less than by the considerate tone in which it was made.
"'If you're particularly anxious to know,' said the policeman, 'I am
going to charge you both.'
"Much amused, our reporter asked, 'What do you charge her with?'
"'First, with drowning her baby; next, with attempting to commit
suicide.' He paused in the middle of the sentence to blow his whistle
again.
"'And what is your charge against me?'
"'Aiding and abetting. Come,' he said to the woman, putting his hand
under her chin and attempting to raise her face to the light, 'let me
have a look at you. A hundred to one I've seen you before.'
"He was so rough that the woman cried out.
"'Be very careful,' said our reporter, in a warning tone. 'If you use
violence it will go against you.'
"'It will go against you,' retorted the policeman, who was losing his
discretion.
"'That is to be seen,' said our reporter, gravely, 'when we reach the
police-station. Meanwhile, you are acting outside your right in
compelling this lady to look you in the face.'
"'Very well,' said the policeman, surlily, beginning to be shaken by
the temperate conduct of our reporter, 'I hear assistance coming; I'll
wait.'
"The measured tread of another policeman was heard in the near
distance. Our reporter stood still, perfectly calm and self-possessed.
"The woman, now sobbing bitterly, drew her handkerchief from her
pocket, and a piece of paper, which she undesignedly and unwittingly
drew forth with it, fluttered to the ground. Only the sharp eyes of
our reporter saw it, and he stooped and picked it up. He glanced at it
without attracting the attention of the policeman, and what he saw
both greatly astonished him and influenced his future course with
respect to the woman. He felt instinctively that he held in his hand a
thread, however slight and slender, in the Mystery of Monsieur Felix.
"Our readers will remember that in certain editions of the _Evening
Moon_ we inserted an advertisement referring to the death of M. Felix,
but lest the precise terms of that advertisement should be forgotten
by them we reprint it here, to refresh their memory. The advertisement
ran as follows:
"'The Strange Death of M. Felix, in Gerard Street, Soho. Persons who
had private or other interviews with M. Felix between the hours of
eight in the morning and twelve at night on the 16th of January, or
who are in possession of information which will throw light upon the
circumstances surrounding his death, are urgently requested to call at
the office of the _Evening Moon_, at any time after the appearance of
this advertisement. Liberal rewards will be paid to all who give such
information, and the best legal assistance is offered by the
proprietors of this journal, entirely at their own expense, to all,
who may desire it and who are in any way interested in M. Felix's
death.'
"Up to the present time the advertisement had been productive of no
result of any value. A great many persons had called at our office
respecting it, but they knew nothing that was likely to be of
assistance to us; their aim was to obtain money without giving an
equivalent for it. That the step we took, however, was not useless was
proved by what our reporter now held in his hand. It was the
advertisement, cut carefully from our journal, pasted upon a sheet of
note-paper, and framed, as it were, in clear lines of red ink. Surely
it was not without reason that the woman had been thus painstaking
with this extract. Surely there must be some connecting link between
her and M. Felix, whose death and subsequent disappearance were still
enveloped in mystery. Thus thought our reporter the moment his eyes
fell upon the advertisement.
"The approach of the second policeman afforded him an opportunity of
speaking to her concerning it. While the two policemen were talking,
the second asking for information, the first giving it, he exchanged a
few words with the woman.
"'You have dropped something,' he said.
"She put her hand hastily in her pocket and discovered her loss.
"'I have it,' said our reporter.
"'It is only a piece of paper,' said the woman; 'give it back to me.'
"'You had better let me keep it,' he said. 'You will be charged and
searched at the police-station----'
"She interrupted him, saying, in a pitiful voice, 'Will they not let
me go--oh will they not let me go?'
"'They will not,' replied our reporter, 'and they are not to be
blamed. They are merely doing their duty. You have acted in a way
which throws suspicion upon you----'
"'I have done nothing wrong,' she said, interrupting him again; and
that she regarded him as being well disposed toward her was proved by
her speaking in a low tone, notwithstanding her anguish of mind,
'indeed, indeed I have not!'
"'I believe you; they will not. I will not ask you what you have done;
if you confide in me it must be of your own free will; but you may
truly believe that I am desirous and willing to be your friend, your
sincere and earnest friend. Something more; I may be able to assist
you in a manner you little dream of. The paper you have dropped is an
advertisement from the _Evening Moon_, referring to the death of M.
Felix.' She shivered at the name, raised her eyes, and dropped them
again. This gave him an opportunity of observing that they were of a
peculiar and beautiful tinge of blue, and the soft pathetic light they
shed touched him deeply. 'Be patient a moment,' he continued; 'I must
have a little private talk with you before we get to the police
station, and I think I can manage it.' He had seen and recognized the
face of the second policeman, who now, as he came forward, greeted him
respectfully. 'Your comrade here,' said our reporter, jocosely,
'believes that I am engaged in some unlawful conspiracy. You know who
I am. Set his mind at rest.'
"It happened fortunately that this second policeman and our reporter
were old acquaintances, and had spent many an hour together in the
still watches of the night. A few words whispered in the ear of the
first policeman settled his doubts.
"'I beg your pardon, sir,' he said, apologetically, 'but mistakes will
happen in the best regulated families.' A remark which denoted that
the worthy and zealous officer was not deficient in a sense of humor.
"'A mistake has happened here,' said our reporter. 'I presume that you
do not now intend to charge me with aiding and abetting.'
"'Not a bit of it, sir. It was only my joke.'
"'You have a queer way of airing your jokes, but I cannot reasonably
complain; you had grounds for suspicion. And now about this lady.'
"'Don't ask me to neglect my duty, sir. I must take her to the
station.'
"'She denies that she has done anything wrong.'
"'They all do that, sir.'
"'Do you persist in your charges against her?'
"'Well, sir, about the baby I won't be sure now; it's as likely as not
I was mistaken in thinking I heard it scream; but we'll try to prove
the rights of the thing. I don't give way, sir, in my belief that she
attempted to commit suicide.'
"'I am a properly qualified solicitor,' said our reporter, 'and I shall
appear for her, and shall also offer myself as an eye-witness of the
affair. I shall support her in her statement that she had no intention
of committing suicide.'
"'I can't help that, sir,' said the policeman, with respectful
pertinacity, 'I can only report what I saw, and I must do my duty. She
nearly fell into the river; I hope you won't deny that, sir.'
"'I will not deny it. You are speaking now quite fairly and
temperately, and I hope to bring you round to my view.'
"'To let her off, sir?'
"'Yes.'
"'I can't do it, sir.'
"'But listen to reason. She accidentally lost her balance----'
"'And,' interposed the policeman, 'would have fallen in had it not
been for us.'
"'That does not establish a charge of an attempt at suicide.'
"'It must be looked into, sir,' said the policeman, stiffly.
"'It seems to me,' said the second policeman, 'that it all depends
upon what it was she threw into the river.'
"Without asking permission our reporter stepped aside with the woman,
and spoke privately to her. She had listened to the conversation in an
agonized state of mind, turning her eyes alternately to her accuser
and her defender with the air of one who was being hunted down.
Helpless, despairing innocence was depicted in her face, and the
favorable impression she had produced upon our reporter was
strengthened. Had she not in his belief been connected in a manner yet
to be explained with the Mystery of M. Felix he would have been
inclined to champion her cause, and because of this belief he would
have ranked himself on her side even if he had supposed that the
charges brought against her were true. Without a shade of doubt she
was a lady; her attire, although it bore no indications of worldly
prosperity, her manners, her speech, unmistakably proclaimed the fact.
She was apparently a little over forty years of age, and there were
traces of long-endured suffering on her features. In her youth she
must have possessed remarkable beauty, which even now could not fail
in attracting attention; her figure was slight and graceful, her
movements gentle and refined. These signs rendered her appearance at
such an hour and under such circumstances sufficiently perplexing, but
our reporter was satisfied to trust to the future for a satisfactory
explanation of what at present, to a vulgar mind, was full of
suspicion.
"In stating that he was a properly qualified solicitor our reporter
stated a simple fact. He had served articles in a solicitor's office,
and had abandoned that profession for one which possessed greater
attractions for him.
"It occurred to him to test her, and he addressed her in French. She
replied to him in the same language, but with an accent which put his
to the blush. We shall, however, give what passed between them in our
native tongue, for the sake of perfect clearness, and in the interests
of those of our readers who may not be familiar with any other
language than their own.
"'You have not deceived me?' he asked.
"'Indeed, indeed, I have not,' she replied, earnestly. 'I have spoken
the truth. You will not desert me?'
"'I will not. You may count upon me as a sincere friend; but you must
confide in me implicitly. I will serve you honestly and faithfully.
You have met with misfortunes?'
"'Great misfortunes. I am a most unhappy woman!'
"'Have you any other friends in London in whom you would confide in
preference to me? If you have and will give me their names and
addresses, I will bring them to you.'
"'I have no other friend in this city in whom I can confide.'
"'Not one who can assist you?'
"'Not one.'
"'Are you quite unknown here?'
"'Yes.'
"'But surely you are not entirely alone?'
"She made an effort to speak, but words failed her; she raised her
imploring eyes to his face.
"'Strive to master your agitation,' he continued, 'and bend your mind
upon the position in which you stand. You heard what the policeman
said?'
"'Yes.'
"'Will you tell them what it was you threw into the river?'
"'I cannot tell them. It might injure--it might ruin me.'
"'Was it property of your own?'
"'It was.'
"'To which no person but yourself has a claim?'
"'It was my own; no person but myself has a claim to it.'
"'The loss or recovery of which would injure no one?'
"'No one but myself.'
"'Now, consider. You will be taken to the police station and charged.'
"'But they will let me go until to-morrow?'
"'They will not. If I, a stranger to you, offered bail, it would not
be accepted. You will be locked up till the morning.'
"'My God!' cried the woman. 'What will become of her--oh, what will
become of her?'
"'Of her? Then you are not entirely alone in this city?'
"'I have a daughter,' she said, in a low, despairing tone. 'She will
be distracted if I do not return to her to-night.'
"'As I have explained to you, that is out of the question. If you are
not unwilling, I will go to her and explain matters.'
"'No, no!' cried the woman. 'She must not know the truth! What have I
done that this misfortune should fall upon me?'
"'I feel deeply for you. If I knew how I could inspire you with
confidence in me I should be glad. Look at me and say whether you
cannot trust implicitly in me.'
"They gazed at each other in silence for many moments. The policemen,
standing apart, did not interrupt them, and as they spoke in French,
could not have understood if they had heard what was passing. The
woman put out her hand timidly.
"'I will trust you,' she said. 'It may be that the good Lord has sent
me a friend when I most needed one. By the memory of all that is
dearest to you, do not betray me!'
"'I swear solemnly that I will not.'
"The pressure of her hand seemed to instil faith in her. All the
earnestness of her soul was expressed in the words she now spoke.
"'I give into your charge what is infinitely more precious than
life--my honor, and my dear daughter's happiness. May Heaven so deal
by you as you deal by me!'
"'I am content,' said our reporter.
"At this juncture the first policeman thought he had allowed
sufficient time for a decision.
"'Time presses, sir,' he said.
"'Then we had better go to the station,' said our reporter, 'if you
persist in your ridiculous charge.'
"'There is nothing else for me to do, sir,' said the policeman.
"'You have no objection to my walking by the side of this lady,
keeping yourself out of hearing. I wish to receive instructions from
her.'
"'Give me your word, sir, that there will be no attempt at escape.'
"'There shall not be.'
"'It's all right,' said the second policeman, 'you may take the
gentleman's word for a good deal more than that. You won't want me.'
"He left them, and our reporter and the woman, preceded by the
policeman, who occasionally looked over his shoulder to see that they
were following him, walked to the Bow Street Police Station."