HOW THE PURLOINED LETTER WAS LOST--AND WHO FOUND IT.
"That 'ere frog-eating swine gets two quid for bonin' the letter, so I
think I'm entitled to one. Can't let all the coin go into old Frenchy's
pocket."
Thus Chivey muttered to himself as he neared the place where he and
Herbert Murray were staying.
Chivey evidently intended putting the screw on Herbert.
"Look here, guv'nor," said he, as he entered the room; "I ain't much of
a reading cove, but I see once a book called Jessop's fables."
"Æsop's fables, I presume you mean, Chivey?"
"It's all the same. But there's a yarn about a monkey what made the cat
pull chestnuts out of the fire; and I'm jiggered if I'm going to play
the cat."
"I am not aware that anyone wishes you to do so," responded Murray, in
his blandest manner.
"Well, you are a-trying it on, at any rate."
"How so?"
"Why, supposing it's found out about our stopping these here letters?"
"Which letters, Chivey?"
"The one I've got in my pocket, and----"
"Oh, you've got one, then. Hand it over, please, Chivey."
"Not so fast, guv'nor. You jest listen to what I've got to say first?"
"I am all attention."
"Well, supposing this game was found out, who do you think would get
into trouble?"
"Why, you would, undoubtedly; and your friend the French gaoler."
"And don't you think it's worth your while to come down very handsome,
considering the risk I run."
"It does not strike me in that light; but I do think it would be a good
plan for you to get rid of the stolen letter as soon as possible; for
if any thing is found out, and the gaoler says he gave you the letters,
it is not likely that his word--the word of a man who acknowledges
himself a thief--will be taken against yours, unless the documents are
found in your possession."
"That's all very well."
"Then if it's all very well, just hand over the letter."
And Murray held out his hand.
Chivey, very reluctantly, passed over the letter, muttering as he did
so--
"Well, I'm blest if I don't think you would whistle a blackbird off the
nest while you stole the eggs."
Herbert Murray took no notice of this speech; he was too deeply
engrossed with the letter which he found read as follows--
"To Her Britannic Majesty's Consul at Marseilles:
"SIR,--I have already addressed several letters to you on the
subject of the incarceration of myself and friends in the prison of
Marseilles, on a charge of counterfeit coining. I also explained
how we were led, by the artful devices of a person calling himself
Markby, to be actually in the coiner's house when the police
entered it, and, therefore, appearances are certainly against us.
To all those letters you have made no reply, which I think is
certainly hard, and not quite right, as I imagine the duty of a
British consul includes looking after the interests of British
subjects in the town or district he is stationed at.
"Now, sir, in my former letters I requested you to communicate with
the bankers in this town, and also with my father, whose address I
give below, and who placed money in their hands for my use. If you
will do so, you will see that all the statements in my former
letters are correct; but if you do not, a number of British
subjects will probably be condemned and heavily sentenced, entirely
through your neglect.
"Therefore, I beg of you at once to communicate with those who can
identify me and my friends, and in the meantime to use your
influence to postpone the trial till that communication can be
effected.
"Your obedient servant,
"J. HARKAWAY, JUNR."
"My eye!" said Chivey, when Murray had read the letter aloud, "ain't he
getting his back up?"
"No matter. They are all of them safe enough, and if they get out, I'll
forgive them."
"But they won't forgive you."
"Perhaps not; but ring the bell, Chivey. We'll have some wine after
this, and just hand over the cigar box."
The ex-groom gave a tug at the bell-rope and ordered wine.
Then he took up a cigar-box and, giving it a vigorous shake,
ejaculated--
"There ain't a blessed smoke in it, guv'nor."
"Well, I'll just put on my hat and stroll up to the shop of Monsieur
Cretineau-Joly and order a fresh stock. I must have a few minutes'
exercise before it gets dark; shan't be ten minutes."
Herbert left the apartment, while Chivey muttered--
"He's afraid of meeting that Lenoir if he goes out after dark."
And Chivey was quite right.
Herbert Murray walked briskly up the street till he reached the
tobacconist's, where he paused a moment, to look at the numerous
varieties of the nicotian herb displayed in the window, along with
pipes and cigar tubes of every shape and pattern.
As he looked, several others looked, and one of the lookers, while
removing his pipe, was so unfortunate as to allow some of the tobacco
ash to blow in Murray's face.
"Curse you, for an awkward Frenchman," growled Murray, while the other
politely apologised for the mishap.
Herbert coughed, and sneezed, and drew out his handkerchief to wipe his
face; but neither he nor anyone else noticed at the same time he drew
out young Jack Harkaway's letter, which fluttered slowly to the
pavement, where it lay with the address downwards.
Murray bought his box of cigars, and returned to the hotel where he
resided, but still the letter lay unheeded beneath the tobacco shop
window, till darkness had settled over the town of Marseilles except
where street lamps and shop lights pierced the gloom.
Then there came up to the shop an old man, who apparently had been a
soldier, as he dragged one leg very stiffly, and had his left arm in a
sling.
But although his hair was white, his carriage was upright and martial.
He looked in at the door, then entered, and purchased some tobacco,
after which he stood outside and filled his pipe.
"I might have taken a light inside," he muttered, when that operation
was finished, and seeing a scrap of paper on the pavement, he picked it
up, to use as a pipe-light.
But the writing on the outside caught his eye.
"A letter to the British consul!" the old man ejaculated. "It may be
worth a franc or two, if I restore it to his excellency."
So he thrust it into his pocket, obtained a light, and hobbled away in
the direction of the consulate.
But presently he paused in a retired spot, where only a single lamp
illumined the surrounding houses.
"I wonder what the letter is about," he said; "I can make a better
bargain, perhaps, if I know the contents."
And without more ado, the man pulled out the letter, and read it
carefully.
Although it was written in English, the old French soldier seemed to
understand it thoroughly.
"That cursed villain's name again," he hissed, through his teeth, when
he had read a few lines. "But I'll pay him yet."
Then he continued the perusal, steadily, till he came to the end.
"It looks like truth," he said, as he returned it to his pocket. "I
will restore it to the consul. Ha, ha! it will be sport indeed if I,
Pierre Lenoir, the proscribed criminal, can defeat the schemes of that
villain."
With a subdued chuckle the coiner departed on his way, revelling with
delight at the thought that he would yet be avenged on his perfidious
friend.
He reached the consul's residence, knocked, and was admitted by the
same servant who had formerly opened the door to Chivey.
"Is his Excellency the Consul at home?"
"Yes, but very much engaged," replied the flunkey.
"I do not particularly wish to see him, but I have found this letter in
the street, and it may be something of importance."
"Right, my good feller; 'ere's a franc for you."
And the door was closed on Lenoir, who hastened away.
* * * *
Two hours later the governor of the gaol and the consul were engaged in
an important conversation.
But their plans must, for the present, remain a secret, nor did Jack
and his imprisoned friends know that their last letter had produced a
better effect than the first.