TREACHERY.
"News, Agnold!" cried Bob, when I joined him in the country.
"Bravo!" I said, "out with it."
"Three men answering to the description of those we are seeking were
seen yesterday on the road to Monkshead."
"Where is that?"
"Thirty-two miles from here, as the crow flies."
"Who gave you the information?"
"Crawley. The fellow is of some use, after all."
I was not so sure, but when I questioned Crawley he was so precise and
circumstantial in his account that I saw no valid reason to discredit
him. He had received the news from a teamster, he said, who had passed
the men on the road. Were they walking? Yes. How did the teamster know
they were going to Monkshead? They were on the high road. How far from
Monkshead? About ten miles.
"I have asked questions," said Crawley, "of every stranger who has
passed through the village, and this was the only one who could tell
me anything at all."
"Did you describe Dr. Peterssen's appearance to him?" I asked.
"Yes, and he said it was something like another of the men."
"Did you describe the third?"
"How could I, when I never saw him?"
I had put the last question as a test of Crawley's truthfulness; if he
had answered otherwise, the doubts I had of his veracity would have
been strengthened.
"You believe he is speaking the truth, Bob?" I asked my friend,
Crawley being out of hearing.
"What reason has he to tell lies?" asked Bob, in return.
"To show that he is doing something toward earning his wages."
"That's cutting it rather fine," said Bob. "You are giving Crawley
credit for intellect; I think he is not overstocked in that respect.
Can't afford to throw away a chance, Agnold."
"Certainly not, and this chance shall not be slighted. But we will not
risk everything upon the hazard. My plan is this. Crawley, Sophy, and
I will go to Monkshead on a voyage of discovery. You shall remain here
to take advantage of anything that may turn up. I will keep you posted
as to our movements; you will keep me posted as to yours. Blessings on
the electric telegraph. You will repeat all telegrams that arrive for
me to such places as I shall direct, retaining the originals in case
of miscarriage. Do you agree to all this?"
"I must," said Bob, "though I would rather go with you."
"There would then be no one left in command here, and we should be
burning our ships."
"All right. You are welcome to Crawley. Must you take Sophy?"
"I must. She is the only one in our party who is familiar with M.
Felix. If we hunt Peterssen down, M. Felix will most likely be with
him, and Sophy is at hand for the purpose of identification. Should I
have reason to believe we have struck the right trail, I will wire to
you, and you can come on to us. Say agreed, old fellow."
"Agreed, old fellow."
After that Bob and I were closeted together for an hour, setting down
all our arrangements in black and white; then I prepared to depart.
"Good luck, Agnold," said the faithful Bob. "Send for me soon."
"As soon as I can. I want you to be in at the death."
I spoke these words lightly, with no notion of their ominous
significance, and a carriage and pair having been got ready for us,
Crawley, Sophy, and I took our seats in it, and bowled along to
Monkshead. We arrived there at noon on the following day, and at the
post-office I found two telegrams sent by Bob, one from himself saying
that stagnation was the order of things, the other a copy of one
forwarded from Emilia in London, in which she said that she had not
heard from M. Bordier, and expected that he was on his way to her. The
whole of the afternoon I was engaged in the attempt to discover
whether any persons answering to the description of Dr. Peterssen and
his companions had made any stay in Monkshead. I learnt nothing of a
satisfactory nature, and, thoroughly exhausted, I was discontentedly
refreshing the inner man, Sophy sitting at the same table with me,
when Crawley, who had been out making inquiries, came in with a man
who looked like what he was--a tramp.
"Here's a fellow," said Crawley, "who can tell us something."
"If I'm paid for it," said the tramp.
"You shall be paid for your trouble," I said, giving him a shilling.
"This is on account. You shall have another if your information is
satisfactory."
"He has tramped from Deering," said Crawley, "and passed the parties
we are looking for."
"How far off?" I asked.
"A matter of forty miles," replied the tramp.
"Were they riding or walking?"
"Two was riding, one was walking."
"What was the conveyance?"
"What do you mean?"
"Were they riding in a carriage?"
"No, in a cart; top of sack of hay."
"What is the man who was walking like?"
His description enabled me to recognize Dr. Peterssen; it tallied with
that given to me by Emilia, Bob, and Sophy.
"And the two men riding on the hay?" I asked. "Can't be so sure of
them," said the tramp; but his description warranted the belief that
they were Dr. Peterssen's patient and M. Felix. As to the latter I
consulted Sophy, and she said it was something like M. Felix.
"How do you know," I inquired, "that these men were travelling in
company?"
"'Cause two of 'em--one as was walking and the other as was
riding--was talking to one another."
"Did you hear what they said?"
"No, I didn't."
He had nothing more to tell me, and he took his departure after
receiving his second shilling.
I turned to Crawley and asked him how he had picked up the tramp.
"I was having half a pint at the Staff's Head," replied Crawley, "when
he came in. Seeing he was a tramp, stood him a pint, and asked him
where he'd come from. From Deering, he said. Then I asked him whether
he'd met anybody in particular on the road, and he said nobody; but
when I spoke of three men in company, and gave him an idea of what Dr.
Peterssen was like, he brightened up and told me what he told you. I
thought you had better see him, so I brought him along."
I nodded and said we would start for Deering in the morning, and
Crawley went to the bar to refresh himself. Now, whether I was
influenced by my original latent suspicions of Crawley, or by the
non-success I was meeting with, one thing was certain. I was not
entirely satisfied with Crawley, and my dissatisfaction was not
lessened by the fact that I could find no valid reasons for
mistrusting him. Later on it will be seen whether I was right or wrong
in my impressions, but, as will also presently be seen, the trail I
was following up, whether it were true or false, led to important
results, the mere remembrance of which will abide with me as long as I
live.
We did not reach Deering till late the next night. The post-office was
closed, and I could not obtain the telegrams which I had directed Bob
to forward till the morrow. As on the previous day, there were
two--one from Bob with no news, the other from Emilia expressing
anxiety regarding the continued silence and absence of M. Bordier. I
myself considered it strange, and I sympathized with Emilia's
unexpressed fears that she had been buoyed up by false hopes. Things
altogether were looking gloomy; we seemed to be drifting without a
rudder, and my experiences in Deering tended still further to
discourage me. There were no traces of the men I was seeking, and
after dispatching letters and telegrams to Bob and Emilia, I seriously
discussed with myself the advisability of returning to London and
awaiting news of M. Bordier. Sophy broke in upon my cogitations.
"I've found 'em out," she said, with a flushed face. "That there
Crawley is taking of us in, you see if he ain't. He's been telling a
pack of lies with 'is 'ay cart and 'is tramp. He's got 'old of another
cove, and is bringing of 'im 'ere. I 'eerd 'im telling the chap what
to say to yer. I'm mum. 'Ere he is."
Sure enough there entered Crawley with another tramp, who told me a
plausible story of having met Dr. Peterssen and his companions some
thirty miles off. The fellow played his part fairly well, and when I
refused to give him money, began to bully. I soon silenced him,
however, by threatening to give him into custody on a charge of
conspiracy, and he slunk away without another word, but with a secret
sign to Crawley, which I detected. Crawley would have followed him,
but I had got between him and the door.
"You miserable sneak," I said, "your game's at an end. So, you've been
coached by your scoundrelly employer, Peterssen, to deceive us, and I
was fool enough to be taken in by you. What have you to say about it?"
He looked at me slyly, but did not speak.
"You are frightened that you may criminate yourself, but you have done
that already. I can prove that you have robbed us of money under false
pretences; I can prove that you have entered into a conspiracy against
us. Do you know the punishment for conspiracy? It is penal servitude,
my friend. You wince at that. Honesty would have served your interests
better, my fine fellow. Had you not behaved treacherously you would
have been made for life. And now you will find that you have fallen
between two stools. You think that Dr. Peterssen will reward you. You
are mistaken. He has promised you a sum of money for misleading us.
You will not get a penny of it. You fool! Better for you to have
trusted straightforward gentlemen who had the means, and had the will,
to richly reward you, than a scoundrel like your master, who has used
you as a tool. You are to report the success of your treachery to him
personally. Where? In London? Go to him there, go to the address he
gave you, and try and find him. As he has rogued others, he has rogued
you. Before you are many hours older, you will learn that honesty
would have been your best policy."
The play of his features proved to me that all my shots were faithful
and had struck home. I gave him a parting one.
"I will put the police on your track. You are a marked man from this
day, and you and your master will have to answer in the criminal dock
for the crimes of which you are guilty."
I had moved from the door, and he, seizing the opportunity, darted
through it and was gone.
"Fine words!" I exclaimed. "Much good they will do!"
"Never mind," said faithful Sophy. "You gave it 'im 'ot, and no
mistake. You frightened 'im out of 'is life; he'll shy at every peeler
he meets."
"It will not help us," I said, in a rueful tone. "We are at a
dead-lock."
"Never say die," said Sophy, cheerfully. "That ain't a bit like yer."
Upon my word her encouragement put fresh life into me, and I grew less
despondent. Determined to leave Deering as quickly as possible, I went
to see about a trap, and here I met with another disappointment. I
could not get a trap till the following day.
"We shall have to wait until to-morrow, Sophy," I said. "So let us
make ourselves comfortable. I wonder if there's a local newspaper
about. I will read you the news if there is; it will help to pass the
time."
Upon what slender foundations do momentous issues hang! A pregnant
proof of this truism was at hand. There was no newspaper printed at
Deering, but at Fleetdyke, the nearest place of importance, was
published a small daily sheet called the _Fleetdyke Herald_. The
landlord at the inn at which we put up did not take in the paper, but
it happened that a traveller, making pause there, had left behind him
two copies of as recent date as yesterday and the day before. These
the landlord brought in to me, and I sat down to entertain Sophy, who
prepared herself for an hour of great enjoyment.
"What things in a newspaper do you like best, Sophy?" I asked.
"Perlice Courts," she replied, "when I gets the chance of anybody
reading 'em out--about once in a bloo moon, yer know."
"Police Courts it shall be," I said. "I have a fancy for them myself."
So evidently had the Editor of the _Fleetdyke Herald_, who seemed to
make it a special feature of his paper to gather the police-court news
of a rather wide district around his locality as an attraction to his
subscribers. I had read aloud to Sophy four or five of the most
entertaining cases when I was startled by the heading, "Tampering with
a registrar's book. Strange case." I read the report under this
heading rapidly to myself, and Sophy, observing that something had
startled me, sat in silence and did not speak a word. The case was not
concluded in the paper I was reading from. The last line ran:
"Adjourned till to-morrow for the production of an important witness
from London." I looked at the date of the newspaper--it was the day
before yesterday. The other paper which I had not yet taken up was of
yesterday's date, and I found in it the conclusion of the case. The
first day's report, with its pregnant heading, startled me, as I have
said. The second day's report startled me still more. By the merest
accident my fingers were on the pulse of the torture of Emilia's life.
I ran down to the bar; the landlord stood behind it, wiping some
glasses.
"Is the village of Glasserton at a great distance from here?" I asked.
"Oh, no," replied the landlord, "about eleven miles. You can shorten
it by two miles if you cut through Deering Woods."
I glanced at the clock--half-past four. "It's a melancholy walk
through the woods," remarked the landlord, "but to be sure the moon
will rise at ten."
"Can anyone show me the short cut?"
I asked. "I wish particularly to go to Glasserton to-night."
"My daughter will put you in the way of it."
"Thank you. Ask her to get ready. I will give her half-a-crown for her
trouble."
I called to Sophy, and asked her if she was ready fur a long walk.
"I am ready for anything," she said, "along o' you."
"Ten miles there, and ten miles back, Sophy," I said, for it was my
intention to return to the inn that night.
"I'll walk all night if yer want me to."
"Come along, then, my girl."
I settled my account with the landlord before I left, and then,
accompanied by his daughter, a girl of fourteen, we walked to Deering
Woods.
"There!" said she, "keep on this track and it will take you right
through the woods till you reach the road for Glasserton. When you
come to two tracks keep to the left."
The directions she gave were clear, and I made her happy with the
promised half-a-crown.
"How far do the woods extend?" I asked.
"You'll have to walk six or seven miles," she replied, "before you get
out of 'em--and mind you take care of the cliffs. They're dangerous."
"We shall see them, I suppose, before we come on them?"
"Oh, you'll see 'em right enough, but nobody goes nearer to 'em than
they can help."
She stood looking after us till thick clusters of trees hid us from
her sight.
"Step out, Sophy," I said, "we've got a long walk before us."
An explanation of the motive for my sudden visit to Glasserton will be
found in the following extracts from the _Fleetdyke Herald_:
THE FIRST EXTRACT.
"_Tampering with a Register Book. Strange Case_.--M. Bordier and his
son, Julian Bordier, of Swiss extraction, were charged with erasing a
name, and writing another over it, from a marriage entry in the
register book of marriages in the parish of Glasserton. Mr. Hare, the
registrar, stated that the accused visited him yesterday afternoon,
for the purpose, as they said, of verifying a copy of a marriage
certificate which they brought with them. The marriage in question was
solemnized over nineteen years ago, and, according to the entry as it
now stands, was between Gerald Paget and Emilia Braham, The elder of
the accused made the examination, and professed himself satisfied. He
then requested the registrar to step out of the office with him,
saying that he wished to make some private inquiries of him. The
registrar consented, and the two went outside for a few minutes, the
questions which M. Bordier asked relating to the witnesses to the
marriage, Julian Bordier meanwhile remaining alone in the office with,
the register book. Mr. Hare, who has been registrar for nine or ten
months only, answered the questions to the best of his ability, and
then M. Bordier summoned his son from the office, and the accused
departed. In the evening Mr. Hare had occasion to consult the register
book, and as a matter of curiosity he referred to the entry which his
visitors in the afternoon had called to verify. To his astonishment he
discovered that the name of the bridegroom had been erased, and the
name of Gerald Paget written over the erasure. His suspicions fell
immediately upon M. Bordier and Julian Bordier, and learning that they
had left the village, he obtained a warrant for their arrest, and,
with a policeman, started in pursuit. The accused were greatly
agitated when told to consider themselves under arrest, and the elder
of the two commenced an explanation, to which, however, Mr. Hare and
the constable refused to listen. He then begged to be permitted to
write and telegraph to London for legal and professional assistance
which, he said, would establish their innocence, and his request being
granted, he wrote and despatched both letters and telegrams. The
registrar having finished his evidence, the magistrate said the case
was quite clear, and asked the accused what they had to say in their
defence. M. Bordier, who assumed the office of spokesman, his son
preserving a somewhat scornful silence, handed the magistrate two
telegrams he had received from London in reply to those he had
despatched. M. Bordier said that he refrained from putting any
questions to the registrar, giving as a reason that he was ignorant of
the procedure in English Courts of Justice. The magistrate, having
read the telegrams, remarked that the names attached to them were
those of eminent and renowned gentlemen whose time must be very
valuable. As they promised to attend the court on the following
morning and were anxious to return on the same day the accused were
therefore remanded till to-morrow for the production of these
important witnesses from London."
THE SECOND EXTRACT.
"_Tampering with a Register Book. Strange and Important
Evidence.--Result_.--M. Bordier and his son, Julian Bordier, were
brought up on remand on the charge of altering a signature in a
marriage entry in the register book of the parish of Glasserton. Upon
the case being called Mr. Lawson, of the well-known firm of Lawson &
Lawson, St. Helen's, London, who said he appeared for the defence,
asked that Mr. Shepherd, the eminent expert in caligraphy, should be
allowed to examine the register book, and the application was granted.
The clerk read the evidence given yesterday by Mr. Hare, the
registrar, who stated, in reply to a question from the magistrate,
that he had nothing to add to it. Mr. Lawson then proceeded to
cross-examine the witness:
"'You state that the register book was examined in your
presence?'--'Yes.'
"'Was there any possibility of the signature being tampered with while
you were by?'--'It could not possibly have been done in my presence.'
"'Was M. Bordier left alone in the office with the book?'--'No.'
"'In point of fact, you did not lose sight of him during the whole of
the visit?'--'I did not.'
"'Not even for a moment?'--'Not for one moment.'
"'Then he could not have made the erasure or have written the name
over it?'--'He could not.'
"'You do not accuse him?'--'Of actually committing the offence, no. Of
being an accessory, yes. He called me out of the office to give his
accomplice time to do what he wished.'
"'We shall see. Only M. Julian Bordier could possibly have altered the
entry?'--'Only him.'
"Mr. Lawson (to the Magistrate): 'This proves that M. Bordier could not
have made the erasure.'--Magistrate: 'Exactly.'
"Cross-examination resumed: 'It is not important to the case, but are
you familiar with the record of the marriage of Emilia Braham and
Gerald Paget, or between her and any other person?'--'No, I never had
occasion to refer to this particular entry.'
"'Were M. Bordier and his son the only visitors you received on that
day who wished to verify an entry in the register book?'--'The only
visitors.'
"'After they left you did you leave your office?'--'For an hour in the
evening.'
"'Before you discovered that the entry had been tampered with?'--'Yes,
before that.'
"'Who was in charge of the premises while you were away?'--'The
servant, Jane Seebold.'
"'When you made the discovery of the erasure, did you ask Jane Seebold
if anyone had called in your absence?'--'I did not.'
"'Did you at any time inform her that the book had been tampered
with?'--'I did not.'
"'You jumped at the conclusion that the gentlemen you accuse must be
guilty?'--'There is no other conclusion.'
"'That will do. Call Mr. Shepherd.'
"Mr. Shepherd stepped into the witness-box.
"Mr. Lawson: 'You are an expert in handwriting?'--'Witness: I am; it
is my profession.'
"'You have given evidence in many celebrated cases?'--'I have.'
"The Magistrate: 'Mr. Shepherd's name and reputation are well known.'
"'Have you examined the entry of the marriage between Emilia Braham
and Gerald Paget?'--'I have.'
"'There is an undoubted erasure of the signature of the
bridegroom?'--'There is.'
"'The name, Gerald Paget, as it now appears, has been recently
written?'--'Quite recently, within the past week. The state of the ink
in which the name is freshly written proves it.'
"'You put a marked emphasis upon the words "freshly written." Have you
a reason for doing so?'--'I have. Upon a careful examination of the
entry I am of the firm opinion that the name erased is the same as the
name written above the erasure. The letters have been very cleverly
traced.'
"The Magistrate: 'That sounds very strange.'
"Mr. Lawson: 'It does; but it is a puzzle that may be solved. Say that
there is here a question of property which would fall to the Emilia
Braham who is married according to this entry. To become possessed of
this property, she must prove her marriage with Gerald Paget. Some one
interested on the other side gets hold of the register book, and
erases the name of Gerald Paget. What name shall be substituted in its
place? What but that of Gerald Paget? This opens up the suggestion
that a friend of Emilia Braham (speaking of her in her maiden name)
has also paid a visit to the register, book, has erased the
bridegroom's name, and written in its place that of Paget, to prove
the said Emilia's marriage with him. A formidable suspicion is thrown
upon her, and the very entry upon which she relies is weighty evidence
against her.'
"The Magistrate: 'It is an ingenious theory, but I cannot see that it
has any bearing upon the present case.'
"Mr. Lawson: 'It has an indirect bearing. I have here a copy of the
marriage certificate, which I must ask you to compare with the entry
in the register book. You will see in the copy that the name is Gerald
Paget, and you cannot doubt that the copy is genuine."
"The Magistrate: 'There can be little doubt of that. The state of the
paper is a proof.'
"Mr. Lawson: 'If the copy had been lost, it would have greatly
strengthened those whose interests are opposed to Mrs. Paget's. I have
nothing further to ask you, Mr. Shepherd. Call Jane Seebold.'
"Jane Seebold was shown into the witness-box.
"'Your name is Jane Seebold?'--'Yes.'
"'You are in the service of Mr. Hare?'--'Yes.'
"'Do you remember the day before yesterday?'--'Yes.'
"'In the evening Mr. Hare went out for an hour?'--'Yes.'
"'Was the office in which the official books are kept open?'--'Yes, it
was, and I was sweeping it out.'
"'Did anybody call while you were so employed?'--'Yes, a gentleman.'
"'Did he inquire for any one?'--'Yes, my master.'
"'Well?'--'I told him he was out.'
"'What did he say to that?'--'He said he would wait for him.'
"'You allowed him to wait?'--'Yes.'
"'In the office?'--'Yes.'
"'What did you do while he waited?'--'I had work in other parts of the
house, and I went and did it.'
"'For how long was the gentleman left alone in the office?'--'Half an
hour, perhaps.'
"'Then you went in to him?'--'Yes, and he said he was going, and he
went.'
"'Did you tell your master of the gentleman's visit when he
returned?'--'No, I didn't.'
"'Why didn't you?' The witness hesitated. 'Why didn't you? Remember
that you are on your oath, and that if you prevaricate or speak
falsely you may get yourself into serious trouble. Why did you not
tell your master of the gentleman's visit?'--'Well, he gave me five
shillings, and told me to say nothing about it. I don't see that I've
done any harm.'
"'You can step down.'
"The Magistrate: 'Stop a moment. Where were the official books while
the gentleman was in the office?'--'In their proper place--the desk.'
"Mr. Lawson: 'Was the desk locked?'--'The lock's been broke all the
time I've been in the place.'
"'So that all a person had to do to get hold of the books was to lift
the lid?'--'Yes.'
"The Magistrate: 'Your conduct was very reprehensible.'
"The witness then left the box.
"Mr. Lawson: 'We have brought the inquiry now to this point. Supposing
the erasure to have been made on the day in question, the commission
of the offence lies between M. Julian Bordier and the person who
visited the registrar's office in his absence.'
"The Magistrate: 'Quite so. I think the registrar should keep these
important public books in a more secure place--in an iron safe.'
"The Registrar: 'I am not supplied with one, your Worship, and I
cannot afford to buy one. My servant's evidence comes upon me as a
surprise.'
"The Magistrate: 'I repeat what I said. These official records should
be kept in safer custody. The authorities should provide proper
receptacles for them.'
"Mr. Lawson: 'I shall proceed now to prove that it is an utter
impossibility that M. Julian Bordier can be guilty of the offence with
which he and his father are charged. Call Mr. Wordsworth.'
"This gentleman, whose name and fame are world-renowned, then gave his
evidence, which was short, conclusive, and surprising.
"'You are an oculist?'--'I am.'
"'You are attending M. Julian Bordier?'--'Yes.'
"'Is that the gentleman?'--'That is the gentleman.'
"'What are you attending him for?'--'For his sight.'
"'Could he the day before yesterday have erased a name from the
register book and written another name above it?'--'It is utterly
impossible.'
"'Why?'--'Because he was blind. He is blind now; His eyes are open,
but he cannot see. It is against my express wish that he left London.
If he does not return immediately and abide by my instructions, I
shall despair of restoring his sight.'
"M. Bordier: 'May I say a word?'
"The Magistrate: 'Certainly.'
"M. Bordier: 'I came to Glasserton to compare the copy of a marriage
certificate with the original entry. My son's happiness hung upon this
proof, and he insisted upon accompanying me. He would not be
dissuaded, and although I feared there was a risk, I yielded to his
wish. When we were arrested I endeavored to explain matters to the
registrar and the officer, but they would not listen to me. Ignorant
of the methods of English courts of justice, I thought it wisest to
obtain counsel and assistance from London. That is all I have to say.'
"Mr. Lawson: 'Is it necessary, your worship, for me to address you?'
"The Magistrate: 'No. The gentlemen are discharged, and I regret that
they have had to submit to this trial. I trust, Mr. Wordsworth, that
you will be able to cure M. Julian Bordier.'
"Mr. Wordsworth: 'If he will be guided by me, I hope to restore his
sight.'
"The parties then left the court."