A CRISIS.
When Old Wheels entered the house, he expected Lily to run down-stairs
to meet him, and he was surprised that he did not hear her voice
welcoming him. Indeed, knowing her nature, he was quite prepared to
find her waiting and watching for him at the street-door, or in the
passage, and he was somewhat disappointed, when he put the key in the
lock and listened, to hear no sound. Notwithstanding that a deep
feeling of sadness was upon him, created by Martha Day's words and
Lizzie's strange absence, the happiness that lay in the assurance that
Lizzie's future was safe was more than sufficient to counterbalance
all depression. When Felix had the right to protect his darling from
the snares by which she had been surrounded--snares which her own
loving nature had strengthened--trouble would weigh lightly upon him.
But he could not shake off the uneasiness caused by the scene through
which he had just passed. It was so strange and inexplicable: Lizzie's
disappearance--for which her mother, who had parted from her but a few
hours before, could not account--Alfred's absence and, added to these,
the circumstance of Mr. Musgrave not being at home, he resolved that
he would not tell Lily. "Let the child enjoy her happiness," he
thought, "Alfred is sure to be home some time to-night." Ascending the
stairs, he entered the sitting-room, and looked around for Lily. She
was not there. "The puss!" he thought, with a smile. "She thinks
Alfred is with me, and she is hiding herself. Lily; Lily!" No sound
broke the silence that followed, as the old man stood, with head
inclined, listening for the response. But the silence seemed to speak,
and his heart turned cold. He looked around again with a vacant eye,
and murmured, more than cried, in a helpless tone, "Lily! Lily!" with
the same result. He wandered into her bedroom, and into every room in
the house, but found no trace of his darling. Then a feeling came upon
him, like the feeling of death, and almost deprived him of
consciousness. But after a little while, by a strong effort of will,
he recovered himself somewhat. "I must think! I must think!" he
murmured; and wrenching his mind from the lethargy of despair which
was stealing over it, he thought over all that had occurred. Presently
a comforting thought came to him: the coincidence of Lizzie being
absent from her house was a sufficient reason for his darling not
being at home. "I have been away longer than Lily expected," he
thought as he descended the stairs towards the street. "Lily grew
anxious, and coming after me met Lizzie, and perhaps Alfred as well. I
must have missed them on the way." In the hope and expectation of
finding both the girls and his grandson there, he retraced his steps
to Lizzie's house; but the place was dark and deserted, and he
obtained no response to his knocks and cries. Even Martha Day was
gone. In greater distress of mind, and with a terrible fear stealing
upon him, which he found it impossible to shake off, he returned to
his own house, and leaving the street-door open, wandered in an
uncertain manner again through every room, searching in the most
unlikely places. He looked about for a note, a line from Lily, to
account for her absence, but not a trace of her writing was to be
seen. Not knowing what to think or do, he stood, helpless, in the
middle of the room, with clasped hands, as if waiting for some sign.
For the space of little more than a minute he stood thus, when a
church bell began to chime the hour of ten, and as the sound fell upon
his ears he heard the street-door pushed softly open, and afterwards a
light step upon the stairs. A sudden rush of tears came to his eyes,
and the feeling of grateful relief he experienced almost overpowered
him. "Thank God! She has come back, and I have been tormenting myself
with foolish fears." But there entered the room, not Lily, but Felix.
He approached the old man with outstretched hand, and looked eagerly
around.
"Ten o'clock exactly," he said in a cheery tone; "I said I'd be here
at ten. I came by the road, too. Where's Lily?"
The old man could not find voice to answer the question, and the
agitation expressed in his troubled eyes was reflected instantly in
the eyes of Felix, as in a mirror. For a moment a shadow reflected
upon Felix's hitherto joyful face, like a mist upon a mirror, dimming
its brightness.
"Where's Lily?" he asked again, hurriedly.
"You have not met her, then?" asked the old man faintly, in reply.
The shadow instantly passed away, and Felix's face became bright
again.
"Seen her! No. Has she gone to meet me? The dear girl! She thought,
perhaps, I was coming by train."
He was about to leave the room with the intention of running to the
railway-station, when Old Wheels, who had received the suggestion with
a feeling of intense gratitude, convinced that Felix had placed the
right construction upon Lily's absence, called out to him to stop for
a moment.
"I will go with you, Felix," he said.
Felix waited at the street-door for him, but before the old man left
the house, he went into Lily's bedroom. He had not thought before of
ascertaining whether Lily's hat and mantle were in their usual place.
They were not there.
"Of course she has gone to the railway-station," he said to himself,
smiling. "It's so long since I was young that I see everything through
sixty-year-old spectacles. Ah, young hearts, young hearts!"
His own uneasiness had caused him for the time to lose sight of
Lizzie's strange absence and of Martha Day's agitation; but as Felix
and he walked to the railway-station, they recurred to him, and he
narrated to Felix the history of the events that had occurred within
the last hour.
"Lizzie gone, and Alfred not come home!" Felix exclaimed in amazement.
"And Martha had no knowledge of Lizzie's movements?"
"None; she was terribly distressed at Lizzie's disappearance."
"Tell me. Have you seen Mr. Sheldrake to-day?"
"No."
"He would scarcely be in London," mused Felix. "He would be certain to
go to Epsom and see the City and Suburban run." Then to the old man,
"And Alfred went to the office this morning at his usual hour, you
say?"
"Surely; and was brighter than I have seen him for many a day."
Notwithstanding these apparently satisfactory answers concerning
Alfred, Felix found food for grave reflection in the information but
the occurrence of other events prevented him from dwelling too deeply
upon what he had been told. As they approached the railway-station
they saw a number of persons hurrying thither, and some coming from
it, with looks of haste and alarm. Felix was about to inquire the
cause of this--for there was something unusual in the commotion, and
it was evident that an incident out of the common had occurred--when
the very man of whom he was about to inquire seized his arm and asked
if he was a doctor.
"No," replied Felix; "why do you ask?"
"There's been an accident on the line," said the man as he hastened
away.
"Jim Podmore is employed at this station," said Felix to Old Wheels,
quickening his steps as he spoke. "Let's get there quickly."
He was thinking of Lily, and of her alarm, if she happened to be at
the station at the time of the accident. And upon the shock of this
news, and of its probably evil consequences to his humble friends,
came a dim presage of ill which increased his excitement. Suddenly he
paused, and said to the old man,
"One moment--only a moment--for reflection."
And in scarcely more than that space of time he became composed. He
had resolutely shaken off all signs of agitation, and he was now cool
and collected.
"It has occurred twice in my life," he said, rapidly and distinctly,
"to be placed in a position of great peril, where a moment's haste, or
a single false step, might have been attended with a fatal result.
At the exact instant it was required, I have recovered the
self-possession I had lost, and thereby have been enabled to escape
the danger. This same feeling has come upon me within this last minute
or two. Do not interrupt me, but hear me out, and act as I desire." He
paused to recover his breath. "So many strange things have taken place
to-night that I cannot overcome the impression that something of
serious moment to persons whom we love has occurred, or may occur. If
it be so--and I am convinced that my feeling springs from something
more than mere nervousness--only calm reflection and steady action
will help us. Lily may not be here; she may have arrived home in our
absence, and will be alarmed that there is no one there to receive her
Nay, she will not be able to get into the house. If she goes round to
Lizzie's house, she will find no one there. Do you see what I mean? We
are wasting our forces. Two men are doing the work of one. Hurry home
as quickly as you can. If Lily is there, wait with her until I come;
or she may return while you are waiting. If she is at the station, I
will return with her as soon as possible. Under any circumstances, we
are wrong in leaving the house alone. And mind," he concluded, with a
detaining grasp on the old man's arm, "whether Lily is at home or not,
or whether she come or not, do not stir from the house until I
arrive."
The old man comprehended the wisdom of the arrangement, and saying
hurriedly, "I will act exactly as you desire, Felix," walked back
towards his house.
Felix then ran to the station, and with some little trouble obtained
permission to the platform. There he found everything in confusion. A
train had run off the line, and the rails were torn up.
"Is anybody hurt?" he asked, in a tone of authority.
"Only a child, fortunately; but she seems to be hurt rather badly.
There were not many persons in the train."
"Whose fault was it?"
"The pointsman's, they say. He was half asleep when the accident
occurred--the lazy scamp!"
"The pointsman!" exclaimed Felix. "That's Mr. Podmore!"
"I don't know his name, I'm sure," the man replied--it was a passenger
who had answered Felix's questions--"but whatever it is, he ought to
be made an example of, and I hope he will be."
A man employed at the station, who had heard the last question, said,
as he passed, "Yes, it's Podmore's doing, this time."
Felix's first anxiety was for Lily, but he could not see her. He made
his way into the waiting-room, and saw, in the centre of a little
group, a child lying as if dead in the lap of a weeping woman. He
darted forward.
"Good God!" he cried, as he leant over the sad couple. "It's little
Polly!"
The weeping woman looked up into his face, and recognised him through
her fast-flowing tears.
"She won't want any more dolls," she sobbed, with a gasp between each
word. "My Polly! my darling! she's dead! she's dead! O Polly, my
blessed, why was not I killed too!"
The piteous words cut Felix's heart and made it bleed. He laid his
hand commiseratingly upon Mrs. Podmore's shoulder.
"Thank you, sir," she sobbed; "thank you. You never thought to see
Polly like this, did you? O, why don't the doctor come! Will no one
bring a doctor? Look after Jim, sir, for the love of God, and comfort
him if you can."
Felix turned, and saw Jim Podmore, standing, with clenched hands and
writhing form, apart from the group, and with so strong an agony in
his face that Felix stepped swiftly to the side of the suffering man.
"Don't touch me!" cried Jim Podmore hoarsely, shrinking from the
contact. "Don't lay a finger on me! I ain't safe to be touched or
talked to. I've killed my child! I've killed what's dearer to me than
life, and I want judgment to fall upon me!"
His looks were so wild that Felix feared for his reason; and knowing
that it would do the man good to give vent to his grief, said in a
gentle tone,
"You know me, Mr. Podmore? I'm your friend--Felix."
Jim Podmore softened at the sound of the friendly voice. He turned his
face from Felix, and said:
"Ah, sir, she loved you, my Polly did! Your name was always on her
tongue; and it was only this morning she told me of the new doll you
promised her. She said you had another ship come home. She didn't
know, when she cuddled me in bed afore I went to work, that I meant to
kill her before the day was out. 'And when's your ship coming home,
father?' she asked me; 'and when's your ship coming home, father?'
Good Lord, help me! My ship's come home to-night, and my pet's laying
dead afore my eyes! What right have I to stand here a living man, with
that sight afore me?"
A man--a fellow-workman--was coming towards Jim with somewhat of a
rough manner, when Felix gently put him aside.
"Let him be," Felix said; "let him have his talk out. It will do him
good. He knows that I'm his friend, and he doesn't mind pouring out
his grief to me. There's no one else hurt, I hope?"
"No, one else, sir," said the man respectfully.
"Thank God for that! Keep the people away from us; if you can."
Felix had drawn Jim out of the waiting-room; but although Jim could
see neither his wife nor child, he spoke of Polly as if she were lying
before him.
"Says my pet, a-laying there afore my eyes, as we was a-cuddling one
another, 'Felix has got another ship come home, father, and there's a
doll in it for Polly. There's a doll in it for Polly,' she says. She
went all through with it, as she's done dozens o' times afore; and she
says, with her eyes shut, 'Here's the ship a-sailing, a-sailing, and
here's the waves a-curling, a-curling'--she knew it by heart, sir,
every word of it--'and here's the captain a-bowing, a-bowing.' And
then she shuts her eyes tighter, and says, for all the world as if she
was in a dream, 'And here's the stars a-shining, a-shining.' Is my pet
that's a-laying before my eyes in a dream now, and can she see the
stars a-shining, a-shining?"
A voice only a few yards away said,
"Here's the doctor. Move away, and let the child have some air."
The words reached Felix's ears; but Jim Podmore was deaf to everything
but his grief and despair.
"Whose fault was it? I heard some ask. Whose fault? _Was_ it mine,
when I was that dead-beat with long hours and overwork that I couldn't
keep my eyelids open? And I didn't know my pet was in the train. I
thought mother and her was home long ago. But I know'd it'd come to
this--I've feared it for months and months. If it wasn't to-night,
it'd come some other time. But I shouldn't ha' minded then, for I
shouldn't ha' killed my pet. Ah, Snap, if I'd only ha' known! There
was him a-pulling at my trousers with his teeth, and I never
understood him a bit--not a bit."
Felix looked down, and saw the faithful dog standing at some little
distance, watching its master with sympathetic eyes. It seemed to
Felix as if it knew that something serious had occurred. Jim Podmore
was somewhat calmer now, and seated himself on a bench, and rocked
himself to and fro, with his head in his hands.
"Don't move for a minute," said Felix. "I want to go into the room to
hear what the doctor says. You'll promise not to move till I come
back?"
Jim, by a motion of his shoulders, gave the promise, and Felix went
into the waiting-room. The people made way for him, and, to Felix's
inexpressible relief, he heard the doctor's voice saying cheerily,
"There, there; it's not so bad after all! No bones broke. Shook a
little--that's all. Killed! not at all, thank God!"
And "Thank God! thank God!" came from a dozen lips, and a ray of hope
shot into Mrs. Podmore's white face.
"The little thing will live to be an old woman, please God," the
doctor continued. "Now don't be a foolish mother." Mrs. Podmore had
taken his hand and kissed it.--"You must be a wise and steady mother;
and if you don't at once stop crying like that, I declare you'll do
your little girl a deal of harm." Mrs. Podmore instantly suppressed
her sobs.--"Pretty little thing! See, she is recovering already!"
Pollypod opened her eyes, and raised her arms to her mother's neck.
Mrs. Podmore was about to clasp the child to her breast in the
overflow of her joy; but the doctor restrained her.
"No, not like that. Take her in your arms gently. Do you live far from
here? No--that's right, that's right. I'll go home with you, and will
see the little girl comfortably in bed.--You feel all right, don't
you, little one?"
Pollypod answered "Yes, sir," in a weak voice; and seeing Felix, her
eyes brightened, and she held out her hand to him. Mrs. Podmore
whispered,
"Tell my husband, sir, and bring him to me."
Felix hastened to comply. Jim Podmore could not easily be made to
understand that his precious Pollypod was comparatively unhurt; but
when he did so, his grateful emotion impressed Felix deeply.
"I've lost my situation, sir; but I sha'n't mind that now. I'll try
and get a living in a fairer way than this."
"And I'll help you," said Felix; "but tell me, before you join your
wife, have you seen anything of Lily on the platform to-night?"
Jim Podmore considered for a moment, and passed his hands across his
eyes to clear away the clouds.
"My memory's almost gone, sir, for everything but this. Yet I think I
should ha' remembered seeing Lily if she'd been here. No, sir; I
haven't seen her; but that ain't saying she ain't been here. The
nearest thing to it is the up-train from Epsom."
"The up-train from Epsom!" echoed Felix, not seeing the connection.
"It stopped here; and one of our porters got a shilling from a
passenger for taking a letter to Miss Lizzie--Master Alfred's
sweetheart, sir."
Felix gave a start, but knew that it would be cruel to detain Jim any
longer from his wife and child. The last thing he saw before he left
the station on his way to Old Wheels was Jim Podmore lifting Polly
tenderly in his arms.
Old Wheels was waiting at the street door for Felix's return in a
state of intense anxiety; and when he saw Felix coming along by
himself, his anxiety was redoubled. Felix knew immediately, by the
expression in the old man's face, that Lily had not come home.
"No news of Lily, sir?" he asked, as he drew the old man into the
house.
"None, Felix. And you?"
"She has not been seen at the railway station."
It was necessary that he should tell Old Wheels of the accident caused
by Jim Podmore; and he did so in as few words as possible.
"I am glad that little Polly is not seriously hurt," said Old
Wheels--"very, very glad. But I am in dreadful anxiety about Lily."
"I too, sir. She is our first and only care. You have no theory to
account for her absence?"
"None, Felix."
"Her hat and cloak are gone," said Felix, following out a train of
thought as he spoke. "That is a proof that she went from the house
with deliberate intentions. We must not rest until we find her--that's
understood."
"Yes, yes, Felix; go on."
"The first thing to ascertain is if anybody is at home at Mr.
Musgrave's house. I will run round and see."
Felix returned in a very short time.
"No one is there; the house is quite deserted. There is some
connection between Lily's absence and theirs. The only thing I cannot
understand is that Lily did not leave a line of writing behind, in
explanation. She knows what deep anxiety her absence would cause."
"Felix," said the old man, in a low tone, "can there have been some
foul play?"
Felix did not reply for a few moments; he was mentally busy deciding
on the best course of action.
"If there is, we will find it out, depend upon it, sir. I have a clue.
I learnt at the station that a passenger from Epsom gave a porter a
shilling to take a letter to Lizzie. That letter either came from
Alfred or Mr. Musgrave, and upon the receipt of that letter Lizzie has
disappeared."
"It could not have come from Alfred," interposed Old Wheels; "he was
at his office."
"We must be sure of that. I have my suspicions that he did not go to
work to-day. Now, sir, you must still be content to remain quiet,
while I ride to London. I shall have no difficulty in obtaining the
fastest horse from the stables near here."
"What is your object in going to London, Felix?" asked the old man,
gaining confidence from Felix's firm tone.
"I am acquainted with a person employed in Alfred's office. I can
obtain from him the information whether Alfred has been at his work
to-day. Without that information, we might take a false step; with it
(if it be as I suspect) I think I see part of my way. I shall be back
sooner than you expect. I am a good rider, and I shall not spare my
horse on such an errand."
Felix made good use of his time. It was barely half-past twelve
o'clock as he ran upstairs to Old Wheels, flushed with the exercise.
He cast a sharp glance around, and Old Wheels, shook his head, saying,
"No, Felix, she has not returned."
"I was right in my suspicions, sir. Alfred has not been at his office
to-day. He asked for leave of absence on the plea that you required
his assistance at home."
"Where can he have spent his time, then?"
"At Epsom. A great race called the City and Suburban was run to-day,
and Alfred has been betting on that race, and has lost. Now, sir, can
you bear a shock?"
Old Wheels waited in trembling suspense. "A greater one than has
already fallen?" he murmured.
"As great, almost," replied Felix gravely; "but it is necessary that
you should know. From what I have heard to-night, I suspect Alfred has
been using money that does not belong to him."
Old Wheels covered his face with his hands, and sobbed quietly. Felix
continued steadily,
"My acquaintance, who is employed in Messrs. Tickle an Flint's office,
was desired this afternoon by one of his employers to tell Alfred to
step into the private office immediately he arrived to-morrow morning,
and my acquaintance told me that, from the tone in which the message
was delivered, he believed, something serious had transpired. Can you
see the connection between these things, and Lily's connection with
them Alfred, having lost in the race money that did not belong to him,
is afraid to show his face at the office, is afraid to come home.. A
letter arrived for Lizzie from Epsom; that letter is written by him,
and tells her probably of the danger he is in. Lizzie disappears
without warning, without leaving word or message behind her. Why? She
is afraid of compromising Alfred. Where has Lizzie gone to? The letter
she received from Alfred guided her steps without doubt. Do you agree
with me that we have now accounted for Alfred's and Lizzie's absence?"
"Yes, but how do you connect Lily with these movements? Remember, that
when I left Lily in the house, at half-past nine o'clock, neither she
nor I had any suspicion of these occurrences. We thought Lizzie was at
her house; we expected Alfred's arrival home every moment. Before that
time Lizzie must have received the letter from Alfred, and must have
gone to join him. Where?"
"There is the difficult point, sir. If we could ascertain where Lizzie
has gone, and how, it would be a most important point. The only
livery-stable near is the one from which I hired the horse to go to
London." And here Felix stamped his foot, and exclaimed excitedly,
"Fool that I was, not to have made inquiries there! We must go there
at once, you and I. You may be of use. There will be no sleep for
either of us to-night."
Before they left the house, they went up-stairs to the Podmores, to
see how Polly was, and to leave a message with Mrs. Podmore, in the
unlikely contingency of Lily returning in their absence. Polly was
asleep, and mother and father were watching by her bedside. Snap
licked Felix's hand as he stooped to pat the dog's head.
"Snap knows what a friend you are to us," said Mrs. Podmore in a
whisper; "but you seem in trouble. Has Lily gone to bed?"
She was soon made acquainted with their trouble, and promised
obedience to Felix's instructions.
"I don't suppose either Jim or me will close our eyes this night," she
said; "but one of us will be sure to be on the watch. If Lily comes
back while you are away, we'll keep her here until you return."
Felix hastily wrote a few lines to Lily, and intrusting them to Mrs.
Podmore, kissed Pollypod tenderly.
"You have much to be grateful for," he said to Mrs. Podmore.
"Ah, sir, we have indeed!" she answered. "God bless you, and send you
success and happiness!"
Felix and Old Wheels shook hands with Jim Podmore, and were soon at
the livery-stables. There was only one man there, and they had some
difficulty in arousing him. He referred to the books, and said that no
lady had engaged anything from the yard that night.
"Two saddle-horses have been taken out since seven o'clock," said the
man, with his eye on the page on which the record was made; "a
brougham and pair for a customer" (mentioning his name, which
satisfied Felix that it could not be for Lizzie), "and a cab."
"Who hired the cab?"
"Can't say. One of our men, Thompson by name, has gone with it. Hired
by a gentleman; ten pounds left as deposit."
"How long was it hired for?"
"Can't say, sir; all night, most likely. Thompson is generally
selected for the long jobs. You know Thompson, sir?"
"No, I do not."
"He is a tallish man, with his nose on one side, and a hare-lip: wears
an old white overcoat. Now I think of it, I saw him and the cab
waiting at the door of the True Blue public-house."
"Ah!" exclaimed Felix briskly. "At what time?"
"About half-past nine, I should say. I happened to be passing just
then, and now I think of it, Thompson and me had a drink."
"Thank you," said Felix, with sudden animation. "Here's something to
get another drink with. Is the True Blue a late house?"
"Got a one-o'clock license, sir. Thank you, sir."
"It's ten minutes to one," said Felix, looking at his watch. "Come
along, Mr. Wheels; we shall get there before the house closes."
And he ran out of the livery-yard, followed by Old Wheels. Lounging
about the bar of the True Blue they found the usual class of
customers, who were being urged by the landlord to leave, as the time
was come to close the house. The potman was busy with shutters and
bolts; behind the bar was the landlady. She knew Old Wheels, and she
nodded to him. Felix was a stranger to her, but she cast a favourable
eye upon him nevertheless.
"Can we have one minute's private conversation with you?" asked Felix.
"And there is time, isn't there, for us to drink a glass or two of
your best dry sherry?"
The landlady glanced at the clock, as a matter of form--it was five
minutes to one--and said:
"Would you like to step into our little room, gentlemen; you'll find
it more comfortable?--Now, turn out, my men, if you don't want to be
put out!"
That it would certainly come to this with some of the customers of the
True Blue was evident: one man was especially loth to go.
"Just another pint, missis," he urged, "just another pint, and then
we'll toddle." In a tone of such entreaty that to one unacquainted
with the usual proceedings of such topers, it might reasonably have
been inferred that his very life depended upon that other pint, and
that the most serious consequences to his health would ensue if it
were refused. The landlady paid no attention to the entreaty, but
devoted herself to Felix and Old Wheels, who had stepped into the
parlour at her invitation. Seeing that she only set two glasses before
them, Felix called for two more, and hoped that the landlady and her
husband would join them. He completed the conquest by drinking
prosperity to the True Blue, and then proceeded to business.
"We have come to consult you upon a matter of much importance, my dear
madam," he said; "and we hope you will give us what assistance you
can."
"Anything that is in my power, sir," replied the landlady, flattered
by the courtesy of so well-looking a young man as Felix; "I am sure I
shall be most happy."
"We do not wish it talked about," continued Felix; "so suppose we
agree that it shall be a secret between us, taking your husband into
our confidence, of course."
The landlady expressed her acquiescence, her curiosity growing.
"It will take the form of questions, I am afraid," observed Felix.
"You've only to ask, sir," said the amiable woman; "and I'll answer,
if I can."
"There was a cab waiting at your door at about half-past nine o'clock
to-night, was there not?"
"There have been three or four waiting, on and off."
"But there was one in particular, from the livery-stables near here,
with the driver Thompson, a man with a crooked nose and a hare-lip. He
came in here to drink with a mate from the yard."
"Yes, he did," was the ready reply. "There's no mistaking Thompson,
once you set eyes upon him."
"Can you tell us who hired that cab?"
"I should say it was the gentleman who was about the house for an hour
or more, and who was in this parlour for more than ten minutes talking
with--with----" But her eyes lighted upon Old Wheels, who was
listening with strained attention to every word that passed, and she
hesitated.
"Talking with whom?" inquired Felix quickly. "With a gentleman?"
"No," with another hesitating look towards Old Wheels; "with a lady."
"A young lady?"
"Yes."
"Do not hesitate to answer, there's a good creature. You know who the
lady is, evidently."
"Yes; but I would rather not say. If you like to mention who you think
it is, I'll tell you, if you're right."
"Was it this gentleman's granddaughter?" asked Felix, hazarding the
guess.
Old Wheels held his breath.
"Yes, it was," answered the landlady, reluctantly. "There! you
shouldn't have forced it out of me! Look at the old gentleman!"
A deadly pallor had come over his face, and he could scarcely stand.
"You must not give way, sir," said Felix, with grave tenderness;
"everything depends upon your keeping your strength. Bear in mind that
this is what we have come to hear, and that we are approaching nearer
and nearer to the unravelling of the plot. And remember, too, dear
sir, that I have almost as great a stake in the discovery as you have
yourself. There _has_ been foul play, as you suggested; but something
assures me that all will come right, and that our dear girl will
be restored to us is a few hours. But not if we're not strong.
Remember--we are working together for Lily's safety."
His tone was so tender that tears came into the landlady's eyes.
"I will tell you all I know," she said, addressing herself to Felix.
"The young lady came in here, and asked me if she could have the use
of the parlour for a few minutes, undisturbed. She wanted to speak to
the gentleman who came in the cab. They were in the parlour for ten
minutes, then they went away together in the cab."
"Thank you, thank you, a thousand times. See, sir, how near we are
coming; Now, this gentleman--who was he?"
"I am sure I don't know, sir; I never set eyes on him before
to-night."
Felix thought of Alfred, and described his personal appearance. No, it
wasn't him, said the landlady. Then Felix described Mr. Sheldrake, and
she answered that it was the very man.
Felix drew a long breath; he was almost at the end of the inquiry. One
other question remained to be asked. Did she know what direction the
cab had taken? No, she didn't know; but she would call the potman in;
he was outside all the time. The potman was called in, and being
refreshed with a drink and a shilling, remembered, after much
circumlocution, that he heard the gentleman tell Thompson to drive
towards Epsom.
"Nearer and nearer," said Felix, grasping the old man's hand. "Now,
potman, is there anything else you know. Another shilling, if you can
remember anything else."
The potman scratched his head.
"There's the shilling," said Felix, in a hearty tone, giving the man
the coin, "whether you can remember or not."
"You're a gentleman, sir," said the potman; "_I_ don't remember
anything else; but there's Dick Maclean, perhaps he can tell
something."
The public-house was empty at this time, and the bar was cleared.
"Run out, Tom," said the landlady, excitedly, "and if you see him
bring him in." The potman ran out at the back door. The landlady
explained. "Dick has been drinking here all night, sir. You bring to
my mind that I saw the gentleman who was here with the young lady give
him some money."
They had not to wait a very long time for Dick Maclean. He was the man
who had begged for more beer, and the potman found him outside
entreating through the keyhole for "just another pint." He was fairly
drunk, but upon the landlady promising him that other pint, and
telling him that the gentleman wanted him to earn half-a-crown simply
by answering a question or two, he pulled himself together, and
endeavoured to earn it. The skilful manner in which Felix put these
questions caused the landlady to ask admiringly if he was a lawyer.
Felix stopped his questioning to answer, "No;" and the landlady said,
To be sure! How could he be? He wasn't dried-up enough. When the
cross-examination was over, they had learnt all. Of Mr. Sheldrake
giving Dick Maclean a letter to take to Lily, and of the instruction
that he was to give it to the young lady in secret, and to tell her,
if he found any difficulty in delivering it, that it was a matter of
life or death to some one whom she loved; of the young lady
accompanying him to the True Blue to see Mr. Sheldrake; of their going
into the public-house together; of their coming out together; of the
young lady giving him a letter to deliver to Mr. Wheels, and giving
him a sixpence to deliver it; of her getting into the cab, and of his
going into the True Blue for just another pint before he went with the
letter; of Mr. Sheldrake coming after him, and telling him that the
young lady had altered her mind, and didn't want the letter delivered;
of his getting a shilling for _that_; and that was all.
It was enough. It was as clear as day to Felix. The potman and Dick
being sent out of the room, Felix said that what they wanted now was
a light trap and a smart horse. Now thoroughly enthusiastic in the
cause, the landlady said they had in their stables the lightest trap
and the smartest trotting mare out of London.
"You're a kind creature," said Felix, shaking hands with her. "Will
you trust us with it?"
That she would, and with a dozen of them, if she had them. The
landlord assented.
"Now what shall I leave with you as security?" asked Felix. "Here are
four five-pound notes, here is my watch and chain----"
The landlady rejected them enthusiastically. She only wanted two
things as security--his name and his word. He gave them, and thanked
her heartily again and again. While the smartest trotting mare out of
London was being harnessed, Old Wheels looked at Felix, wistfully,
earnestly, humbly. Felix understood him. He put his arm round the old
man's shoulder, and said, in a tone of infinite tenderness,
"Dear sir, I never loved Lily as I love her now. I never trusted her
as I trust her now. Dear girl! Pure heart! When I lose my faith in
her, may I lose my hope of a better life than this!"
His face lighted up as he uttered these words. The old man pressed him
in his arms, and sobbed upon his shoulder. The landlady turned aside
to have a quiet cry in the corner.
"You're a good young fellow," she said, in the midst of her
indulgence, "and I'm glad you came to me."
Before five minutes had passed, they were in the lightest trap and
behind the smartest trotting mare out of London, ready to start.
"Here!" cried the landlady. And running to the wheels, she handed up a
great parcel of sandwiches and a bottle of brandy. "It's the right
stuff," she said, between laughing and crying. "Our own particular!"
The next minute they were on the road to Epsom.