THE BRIDEGROOM.
According to his promise given to Lady Belgrade, the Duke of Hereward
returned to Elmthorpe House to make his report.
He found the dowager waiting for him where he had left her, in the back
drawing-room.
He greeted her only by a silent bow, and she questioned him only by a
mute look.
"I have placed the case in the hands of Setter, confidentially, of
course. He will commence secret investigations to-night," he said.
"This morning, you mean, Duke. It is now two o'clock," remarked the
dowager.
"Is it, indeed, so late?"
"So early you should say. Yes, it is. But what thinks the detective of
this affair?"
"He is inclined to think as we do, that our dear Salome has been decoyed
away by some tale of extreme distress, and for purposes of robbery,"
answered the young duke, pressing his white lips firmly together in
his effort to control all expression of the anguish that was secretly
wringing his heart.
"And what does he think of the chances of finding her soon and finding
her safe?" inquired the dowager.
The duke slowly shook his head.
"Well, and what does that mean?" asked the lady.
"It means that Detective Setter cannot form an opinion, or will not
commit himself to the expression of one at present. And now, dear Lady
Belgrade, as it is after two o'clock, I must bid you good-night--"
"Good-morning, rather," interrupted the dowager.
"And return to my lodgings," continued the duke, passing his hand across
his forehead, like one "dazed" with trouble.
"I beg you will do nothing of the sort, Duke," said Lady Belgrade,
hastily interposing. "You have left your lodgings for a wedding tour. You
are not expected back there. Your people think that you are far from
London with your bride. In the name of propriety, let them think so
still. Do not go back there to-night, and wake them all up, and start
a nine days' wonder of scandal. Stay where you are, Duke, quietly,
until we recover our Salome. When we do, you can both leave for Paris.
All the world will know nothing of this distressing affair, which, if it
were to come to their knowledge, would be exaggerated, perverted, turned
and twisted out of all its original shape, into some horrid story of
scandal. Remember now, how few people know anything about it--only you,
I, the detective necessarily taken into your confidence, and the
servants, for whose discretion I can answer. Remain quietly here,
therefore, that all gossip may be stopped."
The duke resumed his seat, but did not immediately answer.
"Do you not think my counsel good?" inquired the lady.
"Very good. Thanks, Lady Belgrade. I will follow your advice. There is
another reason why I should do so, but with which you are not acquainted.
In the absorption of my thoughts with the subject of our Salome, I
totally forgot to tell you that I have just been subpoenaed as a witness
for the crown, in the approaching trial of John Potts and Rose Cameron
for the murder of Sir Lemuel Levison. The case will come on at the
Assizes at Banff on Thursday next. I must leave for Scotland to-morrow,"
said the young duke.
"Why--you surprise me very much! When was the subpoena served upon you?"
inquired the dowager.
"In a chance recounter at the police-office, where I went to find the
detective, and where I also found a sheriff's officer holding a subpoena
for me, which he was about to send across the channel by a special
messenger--supposing me to be in Paris. So you see, my dear Lady
Belgrade, my wedding tour would have been stopped at Paris, if not
nearer."
"That is well; for now, if the wedding tour is delayed, it will be known
to be a legal necessity, which in no way reflects upon the wedding party.
And now, my dear Duke, since you consent to stay all night, let me advise
you to retire to rest. You will find your valet waiting your orders in
the cedar suite of rooms, to which I had your dressing case and boxes
taken."
"Thanks, Lady Belgrade. Your ladyship anticipates everything."
"I certainly anticipated the necessity of your remaining here all night,
as soon as I found that you could not leave London. And now, Duke, I must
really send you to bed. I am exhausted. I must lie down, even if I do not
sleep," said the dowager, as she arose and touched the bell.
The Duke of Hereward raised her hand to his lips, bowed, and left the
room.
Lady Belgrade followed his example.
And the weary groom of the chambers entered, in answer to the bell, to
turn off the gas and fasten up the rooms.
The young duke knew where to find the cedar suite--a sumptuous set of
apartments finished and fitted up in the costly and fragrant wood which
gave them their name.
He found his servant waiting in the dressing-room.
His grace's valet was no fine gentleman from Paris, as full of
accomplishments as of vices; but a simple and honest young man from the
estate. The extra gravity which young James Kerr put into his manner of
waiting, alone testified of the reverential sympathy he felt for his
beloved master.
The duke threw off the travelling coat that he had assumed for his
journey and had worn up to this moment; and he took the wadded silk
dressing gown, handed him by his valet, and having put it on, he dropped
into an easy resting-chair, and ordered Kerr to lower the gas and then
leave the room for the night.
The young Duke of Hereward did not retire to bed that night. As soon as
he found himself alone in the half-darkened rooms, he arose from his
chair and began to walk restlessly up and down the floor, relieving the
pent-up anguish of his bosom by such deep groans as had required all his
self-control to suppress while he was in the presence of others.
Thus walking and groaning in great agony of mind, he passed the few
remaining dark hours of the morning.
At daylight he sank exhausted into his easy-chair. But even then he
neither "slumbered nor slept," but passed the time in waiting and longing
for the rising sun, that he might go out and renew his search for his
lost bride.
The sun had scarcely risen when he rang for his valet.
The young man appeared promptly.
The duke made a hasty toilet, and then called his servant to attend him
down stairs.
None of the household were yet astir.
But, by the direction of the duke, Kerr unlocked, unbolted and unbarred
the street door to let his master out.
"Close and secure the house after me, James, for it will be hours yet
before the household will be up," said the duke, as he passed out.
It was a clear October day for London. The sun was not more than twenty
minutes high, and it shone redly and dully through a morning fog. The
streets were still deserted, except by milkmen, bakers, costermongers,
and other "early birds."
He walked rapidly to the Church Court police station.
Detective Setter was not there. But the Duke left word for him to call at
Elmthorpe as soon as he should return.
He left the police station and went on toward Elmthrope. But he did not
enter the house. He could not rest. He walked up and down the sidewalk in
front of the iron railings until he thought Lady Belgrade might have
risen.
Then he went up the steps and rang the bell.
The hall porter opened the door and admitted him.
"Has Lady Belgrade come down yet?" was his first question.
"My lady has, your grace. My lady is waiting breakfast for your grace,"
respectfully answered the footman.
He longed to ask if any news had been heard of the missing one, but he
forbore to do so, and hurried away up-stairs to the breakfast parlor.
There he found Lady Belgrade, dressed in a purple cashmere robe, and
wrapped in a rich India shawl, reclining in a rocking-chair beside a
breakfast-table laid for two.
"Good morning, madam. I fear I have kept your ladyship waiting," said the
duke, as he entered the room.
"Not a second, my dear duke. I have but just this instant come down,"
answered the dowager, politely, and unhesitatingly telling the
conventional lie, as she put out her hand and touched the bell.
"I fear that it is useless to ask you if there is any news of our missing
girl," said the duke, in a low tone.
"I have heard nothing. And you? Of course, you have not, or you would not
have asked me the question. But, good Heaven, Duke, you are as pale as a
ghost! You look as if you had just risen from a sick bed! You look full
twenty years older than you did yesterday. What have you been doing with
yourself? Where have you been?" inquired the dowager.
The duke answered her last question only.
"I have been to Church Court to look up Detective Setter. I left orders
for him to report here this morning. I expect him here very soon. I must
do all that I can do in London to-day, as it is absolutely necessary for
me to leave town by the night express of the Great Northern Railroad, in
order to attend the trial for which I am subpoenaed as a witness,
to-morrow."
"I see! Of course, you must go. There is no resisting a subpoena. But who
is to co-operate with Setter in the search for Salome?"
"_You_ must do so, if you please, Lady Belgrade, until my return. Of
course, I will hurry back with all dispatch."
"No fear of that. The only fear is that you will hurry into your grave.
But here is breakfast," said her ladyship, as a footman entered with a
tray.
Mocha coffee, orange pekoe tea, Westphalia ham, poached eggs, dry toast,
muffins, rolls, and so forth, were arranged upon the table to tempt the
appetite of the two who sat at meat.
Lady Belgrade made a good meal. She was at the age of which physicians
say, "the constitution takes on a conservative tone," and which poets
call "the time of peace." In a word, she was middle-aged, fat, and
comfort-loving; and so she was not disposed to lose her rest, or food,
or peace of mind for any trouble not personally her own.
She was vexed at the unconventionality of Salome's disappearance, fearful
of what the world would say, and anxious to keep the matter as close as
possible. That was all, and it did not take away her appetite.
But the anxious young husband could not eat. A feverish and burning
thirst, such as frequently attends excessive grief or anxiety, consumed
him. He drank cup after cup of tea almost unconsciously, until at length
Lady Belgrade said:
"This makes four! I am your hostess, duke; but I am also your aunt by
marriage, and upon my word I cannot let you go on ruining your health in
this way! You shall not have another cup of tea, unless you consent to
eat something with it."
The young duke smiled wanly, and submitted so far as to take a piece of
dry toast on his plate and crumble it into bits.
Meanwhile, the dowager, having finished her breakfast, took up the
_Times_ to look over.
Presently she startled the duke by exclaiming:
"Thank Heaven!"
"What is it?" hastily inquired the duke, setting down his cup and gazing
at the silent reader. "Any news of Salome?" he added, and then nearly
lost his breath while waiting for the answer.
"Oh, yes, news of Salome! But scarcely authentic news. Listen! Here
is a full account of the wedding--with a description of the bride
and bridesmaids, and their dresses and attendants, and of the ceremony
and the officiating clergy, and the attending crowd, and the
wedding-breakfast, speeches, presents, and so on, all tolerably
correct for a newspaper report. But now listen to this--"
Her ladyship here read aloud:
"Immediately after the wedding-breakfast, the happy pair left town, by
the London and South Coast Railway, _en route_ for Dover, Paris and
the Continent."
"There! what do you think of that?" inquired Lady Belgrade, looking up.
"I think it is not the first occasion upon which a paper has anticipated
and described an expected event that some unforeseen accident prevented
from coming off," answered the duke, with a sigh.
"I thank fortune for this! Now you have really started on your wedding
tour in the belief of all London, and all outside of London who take the
_Times_; and all _our_ world _do_ take it. And now, if any
rumor of this most inopportune disappearance of our bride _should_
get out, why, it will never be believed! That is all! For has not the
departure of the 'happy pair' been published in the _Times_? Yes,
I am very glad of the news reporter's indiscreet precipitancy on this
occasion, at least," concluded Lady Belgrade, as she turned to other
"fashionable intelligence."
At that moment a footman entered the breakfast parlor and handed a
business-looking card to the duke, saying, with a bow:
"If you please, your grace, the person is waiting in the hall."
"By your leave, Lady Belgrade?--Sims! show the man into the library, and
tell him I will be with him in a few moments.--It is Detective Setter,"
said the duke, as he arose and left the breakfast parlor.
He found that officer awaiting him in the library.
"Any news?" inquired the duke, as he sank into a chair and signed to the
visitor to follow his example.
"None, your grace. I have made diligent and careful investigations, in
the neighborhoods mentioned by the lady's maid, but have found no trace
of any Mrs. White or Brown that answered the rather vague description
given. I shall, however, resume my search there," answered the man.
"There must be no cessation of the search until that woman is found.
I need not caution you to use great discretion," said the duke,
earnestly, but wearily, like a man breaking down under an intolerable
burden of mental anxiety.
"Discretion is the very spirit of my business, your grace."
"What is to be your next step?"
"If your grace will permit me, I should like to examine the rooms of the
lost lady, and I should like to question, singly and privately, the
servants of the house."
"A thorough search has been made of the premises, including the
apartments of the duchess. And every domestic on the premises has been
examined and cross-examined."
"I do not doubt, your grace, that all this has been done as effectually
as it could be done by any one, except a skillful and experienced
detective; but if you will pardon me, I should like to make an
examination and investigation in person."
"Certainly, Mr. Setter. Every facility shall be afforded you," said the
duke, touching the bell.
A footman entered.
The duke drew a card from his pocket and wrote upon it:
"Detective Setter wishes to search the premises and cross-examine the
servants. What does your ladyship say?"
The duke then placed the card in the hand of the footman, saying:
"Be so good as to take this to Lady Belgrade, and wait an answer."
The servant bowed and left the room.
"You are aware, Mr. Setter, that I am under the necessity of leaving
London to-night, to attend the trial of Potts and Cameron to-morrow."
"As a witness for the Crown. I am, your grace."
"I shall get back to London as soon as possible. In the meantime, I wish
you to pursue your investigations with the utmost diligence, sparing no
expense. Report in person every morning and evening to Lady Belgrade
in this house, and by telegraph to me at Lone, in Scotland. Use great
discretion in wording your telegrams. Avoid the use of names, or titles,
or, in fact, any terms, in referring to the duchess, that may identify
her. I hope you understand me?"
"Perfectly, your grace. I also understand how to speak and write in
enigmas. It is a part of my profession to do so," answered Mr. Setter.
The duke then drew out his portmonaie, opened it, selected two notes of
fifty pounds each and put them in the hands of Setter, saying:
"Here are one hundred pounds. Spare no expense in prosecuting this
search. Draw on me if you have occasion."
The detective bowed.
At the same moment the footman re-entered the room, bringing a card on
a silver waiter, which he handed to the duke.
The duke took it and read:
"Your grace surely forgets that, as the husband of the heiress, you are
the absolute master of the house, and your will is law here. Do as you
think proper."
"You may go," said the duke to the messenger, who immediately retired.
"Now, Mr. Setter, do you wish to search the premises, or examine the
servants first?" inquired the duke.
"Examine the servants first, your grace; as I may thereby gain some clew
to follow in my search."
"Very well," said the duke, again touching the bell.
The prompt footman re-appeared.
"Whom do you wish called first?" inquired the duke.
"The lady's maid," answered the detective.
"Go and tell the duchess's maid that she is wanted here immediately,"
said the duke.
The footman bowed and went away on his errand.
A few minutes passed, and the lady's maid entered.
"This is--I really forget your name, my good girl," said the duke,
apologetically.
"Margaret, sir; Margaret Watson," said the lady's maid, with a courtesy.
"Ay. This is Margaret Watson, the confidential maid of her grace, Mr.
Setter. Margaret, my good girl, Mr. Setter wishes to put some questions
to you, relating to the disappearance of your mistress. I hope you will
answer his inquiries as frankly and fearlessly as you have answered
ours," said the duke, as he took up a paper for a pretext and walked to
the other end of the library, leaving the detective officer at liberty to
pursue his investigations alone.
It is needless for us to go over the ground again. It is sufficient to
say that Detective Setter questioned and cross-questioned the girl with
all the skill of an old and experienced hand, and at the end of half an
hour's sharp and close examination, he had obtained no new information.
The girl was dismissed, with a warning not to talk of the affair. And she
was followed by the housekeeper, with no better result.
Thus all the domestics of the establishment were called and examined
singly; but without success.
When the last servant was done with, and sent out of the room, the
detective walked up to the duke.
"Well, Mr. Setter?" inquired the latter.
"Your grace, I have learned nothing from the servants but what you have
already told me."
"Do you still wish to search the premises?"
"If your grace pleases. And I wish to begin with the apartments of the
duchess."
"Then follow me. I myself will be your guide," said the duke, leading the
way from the library.
It would be useless to accompany the detective in this third search.
Let it be sufficient to say that this search was thorough, complete,
exhaustive, and--unsuccessful.
It was late in the day when it was finished, and the duke and the
detective returned to the library.
"You now perceive Mr. Setter, that a day has been lost in these repeated
searchings and questionings, and no new information, no sign of a clew to
the fate of the duchess has been gained. In an hour I must leave the
house to catch the Great Northern Night Express. I leave--I am
_forced_ for the present, to leave the fate of my beloved wife in
your hands. In saying that, I say that I leave more than my own life in
your keeping. Use every means, employ every agency, spend money freely,
the day you bring her safely to me, I will deposit ten thousand pounds in
the Bank of England to your account."
"Your grace is munificent. If the duchess is on earth, I will find
her;--not for the reward only, though it is certainly a very great
inducement to a poor man with a large family; but for the love and honor
I bear your grace and the late Sir Lemuel Levison," said the detective,
earnestly, as he bowed and took leave.
The first dinner-bell rang.
The duke hastened to his own room, not to dress for dinner, but to
prepare for his night journey to Scotland.
He ordered his valet to pack a valise with all that would be necessary
for a few days' absence, and then sent him to call a close cab.
By this time the second dinner-bell rang, and the duke went down, not to
dine, but to take leave of Lady Belgrade.
He found her ladyship in the drawing-room.
"Give me your arm to dinner, if you please, Duke," she said, rising.
"I hope you will excuse me; but I have only come to say good-by. I have
but time to catch the train. Kerr has already put my luggage in the cab,
which is waiting for me at the door. Good-by, dear Lady Belgrade. You
will co-operate with Setter in all things necessary to a successful
search, I know. Setter has my orders to report to you--"
"You take my breath away!" gasped the dowager.
"Write to me by every mail. Keep me informed of events--"
"You will kill yourself, Duke! flying off without your dinner, and
looking fitter for going to bed than on a journey!" panted the dowager.
"Now then, good-by in earnest, dear Lady Belgrade, and God bless you,"
concluded the duke, raising her hand to his lips and bowing.
And before the dowager could say another word he was gone.
"Well, if he lives to be as old as I am, he will take things easier.
Though, if he goes on at this rate, he won't live to be old," mused the
old lady, as she slowly waddled into the dining-room, and took her seat
at the table to enjoy her solitary green turtle soup.