He is composed and framed of treachery,
And fled he is upon this villany.--_Much Ado about Nothing_.
Edward Meredith, the affianced bridegroom of Miss Fanny Euston,
sailing on a smooth sea, under full canvas, towards the pleasing but
perilous bounds of matrimony, was walking in the morning towards the
post office, in the frame of mind proper to his condition. He passed
that place of unrest where the Law hangs her blazons from every
window, and approached the heart and brain of the city, the precinct
sacred to commerce and finance. Here, gathered about a corner, he saw
a crowd, elbowing each other with unusual vehemence. Meredith, with
all despatch, crossed over to the opposite side. But here, again, his
attention was caught by a singular clamor among the rabble of
newsboys, as noisy and intrusive as a flight of dorr-bugs on a June
evening. And, not far off, another crowd was gathered at the office of
the Weekly Sink. Curiosity became too strong for his native antipathy.
He saw an acquaintance, with a crushed hat, and a face of bewildered
amazement, just struggling out of the press.
"What's the row?" demanded Meredith.
"Go and read that paper," returned the other, with an astonished
ejaculation, of more emphasis than unction.
Meredith shouldered into the crowd, looked over the hats of some,
between the hats of others, and saw, pasted to the stone door post, a
placard large as the handbill of a theatre. Over it was displayed a
sheet of paper, on which was daubed, in ink, the words, _Astounding
Disclosures!!! Crime in High Life!!!!_ And on the placard he beheld
the names of his classmate Horace Vinal, and his friend Vassall
Morton.
Meredith pushed and shouldered with the boldest, gained a favorable
position, braced himself there, and ran his eye through the whole.
Then, with a convulsive effort, he regained his liberty, beckoned a
newsboy, and purchased the extra sheet of the Weekly Sink. Here,
however, he learned very little. The editor, taught wisdom by
experience, had tempered malice with caution. He spoke of the duty he
owed to the public, his position as guardian and censor of the public
morals, and affirmed that, in this capacity, he had that morning
received through the post office the original of the letter of which a
copy was printed on the placards posted in various parts of the city.
With the letter had come also an anonymous note, highly complimentary
to himself in his official capacity, a copy of which he subjoined. As
for the letter, he did not think himself called upon to give it
immediate publicity in his columns; but he would submit it for
inspection to any persons anxious to see it, after which he should
place it in the hands of the police.
Though the editor of the Sink was thus discreet, the letter, in the
course of the day, found its way into several of the penny papers, to
which copies of the placard containing it had been mailed. From the
dram shop to the drawing room, the commotion was unspeakable. The mass
of readers floundered in a sea of crude conjecture; but those who knew
the parties, recalling a faint and exploded rumor of Morton's
engagement to Miss Leslie, and connecting it with her separation from
Vinal, gained a glimpse of something like the truth.
The only new light thrown upon the matter came from the servant, who
told all that he knew, and much more, of the nocturnal scene between
Speyer and Vinal, affirming, with much complacency, that he had saved
his master's life. Miss Leslie and Mrs. Ashland studiously kept
silent. Morton was at the antipodes; while the unknown divulger of the
mystery eluded all attempts to trace him. Speyer, in fact, having
sprung his mine, had fled from his danger and his debts, and taking
passage for New Orleans, sailed thence to Vera Cruz.
Meredith, perplexed and astounded, wrote a letter to Morton, directing
it to Calcutta, whither the latter was to repair, after voyaging among
the East India Islands.
Meanwhile, great search was made for Vinal; but Vinal was nowhere to
be found.