FRIENDS TO THE RESCUE.
Sophy and I were lying on two couches placed so that my eyes could
rest upon her face. A day and a night had elapsed since our rescue,
and I had gained strength surprisingly. With the help of Bob I had
dressed myself in the afternoon, and seeing that the exertion had
nearly exhausted me he insisted upon my lying down on a couch. I, on
my part, upon learning that Sophy had also with assistance dressed
herself, in "spick and span new clothes," as she afterwards informed
me, insisted feebly but firmly that she should be brought into my
room, so there we were, gazing at each other, and rapidly recovering
from the terrible ordeal through which we had passed. Warm baths, an
entire change of clothing, rest in a soft bed--surely the clean sheets
were the most delicious that mortal ever lay between--nourishing food,
and the blessed sense of safety, had done wonders for us. Bob had
refused with stern kindness to give me any account of his movements
until I was in a fit condition to listen to him, and it was not until
this day that he consented to place me in possession of the facts. His
statement, up to a certain point, will be best explained in his own
words.
"Two days having passed," he said, "without hearing from you, I became
anxious. The last letter I received from you was written in Monkshead,
and in it you informed me that you were going farther on, but you did
not mention the name of the place for which you were bound. As you had
left Monkshead, it was useless my wiring or writing to you there, so I
was compelled to wait your pleasure. Of course, in these
circumstances, one always thinks that a letter has gone wrong, and as
no other arrived I inferred that you had given me some information of
your movements in the supposed missing letter, without which I had no
idea what to do. At length I came to the conclusion that you had
returned to London, and I determined to follow you. Even if I did not
see you there, I might learn from your family or friends something
which would enlighten me as to where you were, and what you were
doing. Your family had not heard from you, and as they did not appear
in any anxiety concerning you, I said nothing, you may be sure, that
would cause them alarm. Then I sought an interview with the lady whose
cause you espoused, and whom should I meet with her but M. Bordier. He
was the soul of politeness, and I could not fail to be impressed by
the radiant happiness which shone in the lady's face. I ascribed this
joyful expression to the document which M. Bordier had found in the
secret drawer of the desk, the particulars of which he had jealously
concealed from me. Neither he nor the lady had heard from you. 'We
hope to see him soon,' the lady said, 'to thank him for his wonderful
kindness to us.' Before I left them M. Bordier drew me aside, and
expressed a hope that I would do nothing to make public what had
transpired with respect to the purloining of the desk, and the
discovery of an important document in it. 'I assure you,' he said,
'that it is entirely a private matter, and that publicity would cause
the deepest pain to unoffending persons.' I replied that I should do
nothing of my own accord, and that the matter rested with you, and you
alone. He thanked me, and we parted."
I interrupted Bob here. "Did M. Bordier make no reference to a trial
in which he had been involved?"
"Nothing."
"Have you read of no trial in which his name appears?"
"No. Let me finish first; you will have plenty to tell me when I have
done. From M. Bordier I went to the office of the _Evening Moon_, and
was equally unsuccessful in obtaining news of you. Somewhat puzzled I
made my way back to the neighborhood of Tylney House, and thence went
on to Monkshead. I had no particular fears for your safety, but I
resolved, if possible, to track you. It was only on the second day of
my arrival at Monkshead that I obtained news which led me to believe
you had gone to Deering. Away I posted to Deering, and there I learned
that you had gone to Glasserton, on what errand was not known. The
landlord's daughter had shown you a short cut through the woods. I
took the high road, as less likely to mislead me: but I may mention
that before I started from Deering the girl who directed you informed
me that only you and a young girl had gone to Glasserton. What, then,
had become of Crawley? At Glasserton I heard that two persons
answering to the description of you and Sophy had been in the village,
that you had remained but a few hours, and had then started back
toward Deering. I immediately returned to Deering, but you had not
reappeared there. It was then that a fear of foul play flashed upon
me; it was then and then only that I began to fear for your safety.
There had been a mysterious murder committed in Deering Woods, and the
murderer was committed for trial----"
"My God!" I cried.
Strange as it may appear, I had not until this moment thought of the
murder which had been perpetrated in the woods. Heaven knows it was
not from indifference that this lapse of memory had occurred to me,
and I can only ascribe my forgetfulness to the intensity of my misery
for several days past, during which I had been completely and entirely
engrossed in the frightful sufferings I had endured. But now Bob's
reference to the foul deed brought Gerald Paget's peril to my mind. I
was so terribly excited that Bob caught hold of me in alarm, for I had
started from my couch and was swaying to and fro on my feet.
"In Heaven's name," exclaimed Bob, "what is the matter with you?"
"Do not ask questions," I said, speaking with feverish haste, "but
answer mine, and follow any instructions I may give you. The murderer
is committed for trial, you say. Has the trial taken place?"
"It is taking place now," replied Bob, speaking as rapidly as I did;
the contagion of my excitement had seized him. "The Assizes are on."
"What is the time?"
"Five minutes past four."
"When did the trial commence?"
"This morning, I heard."
"Is it over?"
"I do not know."
"Will it take you long to ascertain how it is proceeding?"
"I might do it in half an hour."
"Do it, in less time if you can, I am not mad, Bob; I am as sane as
you are. This is a matter of life and death, and, God forgive me, I
have allowed it to escape me. One more question. You have not spoken
of Dr. Peterssen. Where is he?"
"In prison, under arrest."
"That is good news. Go now, quickly--and send the landlord up to me
immediately, with some telegraph forms."
He hastened from the room, and in a very short time the landlord made
his appearance. The vital necessity of immediate action had inspired
me with strength of mind if not with strength of body, and my mental
powers were quickened and sharpened by the crisis. I had settled upon
my plan of action, and when the landlord handed me the telegraph forms
I wrote the messages I wished to send with celerity and clearness. The
most urgent and lengthy of these telegrams was addressed to M.
Bordier, and in it I implored him to come to me without a moment's
delay, and to bring Emilia with him. I told him that the husband whose
death Emilia had so long mourned was now on a trial for murder of
which he was innocent, that I had been mercifully rescued myself from
a cruel death and held in my hands proofs of Gerald Paget's innocence,
and that my case would be strengthened by the presence of Emilia and
himself. I requested him to acknowledge my telegram the instant he
received it, and to say when I might expect him to join me; it was
imperative that there should not be the least delay, and he was to
spare no expense in attending to my instructions. In addition to this
telegram I despatched messages to my mother, to the editor of the
_Evening Moon_, and to Mrs. Middlemore. Without further detail I may
say that I did everything in my power to bring the persons to my side
whose presence I considered necessary for the work before me, and my
despatches were winging to London before Bob returned. He reported
that the case for the prosecution was not yet concluded, that it was
expected that the defence would be brief, and that the summing up of
the judge would occupy some time. It was almost certain that the
verdict would not be delivered until to-morrow. Counsel had been
deputed by the judge to defend the prisoner, who throughout the trial
had maintained a strange silence, which some ascribed to obstinacy,
and others to aberration of intellect. Having heard what Bob had to
say, I addressed a letter to the counsel for the defence, urging him
at the adjournment of the case, to call upon me immediately, as I had
news to communicate to him of the highest importance to the prisoner.
My letter despatched, there was nothing more to do for at least a
couple of hours, and I consented to listen to the completion of Bob's
narrative. When he heard that a murder had been committed in Deering
Woods fears for my safety flashed upon him, and he went to see the
body of the murdered man. He was greatly relieved to find that the
body was that of a stranger--(it must be borne in mind here that he
had never set eyes on M. Felix during that man's lifetime)--but it did
not dispel his fears. I had started back to Deering through the woods,
and from that moment neither I nor Sophy had been heard of. He
determined to remain on the spot and keep watch about the woods, in
the hope of discovering what had happened to me. The idea of foul play
between Deering and Glasserton had taken morbid possession of him, and
he did not attempt to banish it. Day after day he searched and watched
without result, until one night he saw a man walking stealthily
through the woods with provisions he must have purchased somewhere in
the neighborhood. The stealthy movements of this man aroused Bob's
suspicions, but although he followed him warily the man suddenly
disappeared. This circumstance strengthened Bob's suspicions, and,
with or without reason, he now came to the conclusion that the man,
whose movements proclaimed that he was engaged in an unlawful
proceeding, had something to do with my disappearance. He hired two
men to watch with him, and at length his efforts were rewarded. The
man was seen again at night creeping stealthily through the woods;
again he disappeared at the same spot as on the previous occasion. It
was at the edge of the fallen cliffs that this took place, and the men
Bob had hired, who were more intimate with the locality than their
employer, pointed out a downward track which bore marks of having been
recently used. This track was noiselessly followed, with the result
already recorded. Sophy and I were saved.
"I did not come an hour too soon," said Bob, when he had concluded his
story.
"Not an hour, Bob. I believe I could not have lived another day."
A telegram was brought into me. It was from M. Bordier: "We shall be
with you to-night. Have not informed Mrs. Paget of the particulars.
Not advisable to agitate her unnecessarily. Decide when we meet."
Other telegrams were also brought to me, and I learned from them that
my sister, a friend on the staff of the _Evening Moon_, and Mrs.
Middlemore would also soon be with me. Bob had been thoughtful enough
to arrange for the despatch of news from the court in which the trial
was taking place. Seven o'clock, eight o'clock, nine o'clock, and the
court was still sitting. The Judge was summing up, and had expressed a
desire that the trial should be finished that night.
"He is of the opinion," I said to Bob, "that the jury will not be long
in giving their verdict."
"It looks like it," said Bob.
"Does this strike you as guilty or not guilty?"
"Guilty," replied Bob.
A note was here delivered to me from the counsel for the defense: "I
cannot leave the court. The Judge will soon finish his summing up,
which is unfavorable to the prisoner. He anticipates a rapid decision
on the part of the jury, and a verdict of guilty. If your news is
really of importance and, advantageous to the prisoner, come to the
court immediately."
I gave the note to Bob to read, and rose.
"Sophy," I said, "are you strong enough to come with me? I am going to
the court."
"I'm ready," said Sophy.
"Yes, Agnold," said Bob, "you must go."
He ran down, and by the time we reached it a trap was waiting for us.
"Have a couple of traps in waiting," I said to him, "and the moment
the persons I expect arrive bring them to the court. Especially Mrs.
Paget, M. Bordier, and Mrs. Middlemore, and send also any telegrams
that may come."
"Depend upon me, Agnold," said the good fellow. "Not a point shall be
missed." He waved his hand as we drove away, and called out, "Good
luck!"
And now I must encroach upon the columns of the _Evening Moon_ for a
description of the events of this agitating night. A cooler head and a
steadier hand than mine have made the record, and all that I have to
do is to vouch for its accuracy.