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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42907 ***
+
+  GREAT PORTER SQUARE:
+  A MYSTERY.
+
+  BY
+  B. L. FARJEON,
+  _Author of "Grif," "London's Heart," "The House of White
+  Shadows," etc._
+
+  _IN THREE VOLUMES._
+  VOLUME III.
+
+  LONDON:
+  WARD AND DOWNEY,
+  12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
+  1885.
+  [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
+
+
+
+
+  PRINTED BY
+  KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS
+  AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+   CHAP.                                                        PAGE
+     XXXI.--Becky gives a description of an interview between
+             herself and Richard Manx                              1
+
+    XXXII.--In which Becky narrates how Fanny became acquainted
+             with Mrs. Lydia Holdfast                             15
+
+   XXXIII.--In which Becky narrates how Fanny became
+             acquainted with Mrs. Lydia Holdfast (concluded)      24
+
+    XXXIV.--Mr. Pelham makes his appearance once more             31
+
+     XXXV.--Fanny discovers who Richard Manx is                   45
+
+    XXXVI.--Becky and Fanny on the watch                          55
+
+   XXXVII.--No. 119 Great Porter Square is let to a new Tenant    71
+
+  XXXVIII.--The new Tenant takes possession of No. 119 Great
+             Porter Square                                        87
+
+    XXXIX.--Mrs. Holdfast insists on becoming an active partner  113
+
+       XL.--Mrs. Holdfast insists on becoming an active partner
+             (concluded)                                         118
+
+      XLI.--Frederick Holdfast makes the discovery               134
+
+     XLII.--Mr. Holdfast's Diary                                 147
+
+    XLIII.--Mr. Holdfast's Diary (concluded)                     177
+
+     XLIV.--Caged                                                207
+
+      XLV.--Retribution                                          218
+
+     XLVI.--In which the "Evening Moon" gives a Sequel to its
+             "Romance in Real Life"                              224
+
+
+
+
+GREAT PORTER SQUARE: A MYSTERY.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+BECKY GIVES A DESCRIPTION OF AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN HERSELF AND RICHARD
+MANX.
+
+
+MY DEAREST LOVE--How, did you like my little messenger, Fanny? Is she
+not steady, and bright, and clever? When she woke this morning I had an
+earnest conversation with her, and as far as was necessary I told her my
+plans and that I wanted her faithful assistance. She cried for joy. The
+few words she managed to get out convinced me that, child as she is,
+I could not be better served by a grown-up person. Besides, I want a
+child to assist me; a grown-up person might spoil my plans. In what way?
+Patience, my dear, patience.
+
+Mrs. Preedy noticed that I looked tired, and I told her that I had been
+kept awake all the night with toothache. She expressed great sympathy
+with me. It is wonderful the position I hold in the house; I am treated
+more like a lady than a servant. That is because I have lent my mistress
+forty pounds, and have agreed to pay for little Fanny's board and
+lodging. Mrs. Preedy threw out a hint about taking me into partnership,
+if I would invest my fancied legacy into the business.
+
+"We could keep on this house," she said, "and take another on the other
+side of the Square."
+
+I said it was worth thinking about, but that, of course, I could do
+nothing until I received the whole amount of the legacy which would be
+in three weeks' time. So the matter rests; during these three weeks Mrs.
+Preedy will be very gracious to me, I expect. She said this morning,
+when I told her about my toothache,
+
+"You had better lay down, my dear."
+
+Actually! "My dear!"
+
+I did lie down, and I had a good rest, so that my keeping up all night
+did not hurt me. I feel now quite refreshed, although it is night, and
+eleven o'clock. Mrs. Preedy, as usual, is out gossiping with Mrs. Beale,
+and I am writing in the kitchen. When she comes home I shall continue my
+letter in my bedroom. I have much to tell you. Things seem to move on
+rapidly. I have no doubt that in a very short time something important
+will come to light.
+
+After sending Fanny to you this morning, I went up to our bedridden
+lady-lodger, Mrs. Bailey. From her I obtained some significant news.
+She had passed a bad night; the noise in the next house, as of some one
+moving about in the room in which your father met his death, had "come
+again," she said, and had continued for at least a couple of hours. She
+declared that it did not sound like mice, and that she did not know
+really what to think. What she _did_ know was that she was almost
+frightened out of her life. I suggested that Fanny should sleep in her
+room for a night or two, and I told her about the little girl. "It
+will be company for you," I said. The old lady was delighted at the
+suggestion, and with the consent of Mrs. Preedy, I made up a bed for
+Fanny on the floor, close to the wall, and she is sleeping there now.
+I am satisfied she is asleep, because Richard Manx is not in the house.
+I have confided in Fanny, and she is so devoted to my service that I
+am certain, while she is in her bed, no sound can be made in the room
+adjoining without her hearing it. Her faculties have been sharpened by
+a life of want, and her nature is a very grateful one.
+
+It was not without reflection that I have taken advantage of the
+opportunity to change Fanny's bedroom. It will afford me a better excuse
+for going upstairs more frequently than usual, and thus keeping a watch
+on the movements of our young man lodger. It will also give Fanny an
+opportunity of watching him, for I intend employing her in this way,
+and in watching another person, too. Richard Manx has not seen my
+little detective yet, nor shall he see her, if it can be prevented. My
+instructions to Fanny are to keep herself carefully out of his sight; it
+is part of a plan, as yet half formed, that she should be very familiar
+with his face, and he not at all familiar with hers. Twice during the
+day has she seen him, without being seen, and this evening she gave me
+a description of his personal appearance so faithful as to be really
+startling. Slight peculiarities in him which had escaped my notice
+have not escaped Fanny's; she has found out even that he wears a wig,
+and that he paints his face. This poor little child is going to be
+invaluable to me. If all goes well with us we must take care of her.
+Indeed, I have promised as much.
+
+Now let me tell you what else I have done, and what has occurred. In
+the note you sent back by Fanny this morning, you express anxiety
+concerning me with reference to Richard Manx. Well, my dear, I intend
+to take great care of myself, and in the afternoon I went out shopping
+accompanied by Fanny. I paid a visit, being a woman, to a milliner and
+dressmaker, and bought some clothes. For myself? No, for Fanny, and with
+them a waterproof to cover her dress completely, from top to toe. Then I
+made my way to a wig shop in Bow Street, and bought a wig. For myself?
+No--again for Fanny. And, after that, where do you think I went? To a
+gunsmith, of all places in the world. There I bought a revolver--the
+tiniest, dearest little pistol, which I can hold in the palm of my hand
+without anyone but myself being the wiser. I learnt how to put in the
+cartridges. It is very easy. With that in my pocket, I feel almost as
+safe as if you were by my side. Do not be troubled about this, and do
+not think I am in any danger. I am perfectly safe, and no harm will
+befall me. Of course, there is only one person to whom it might happen
+I would show my pretty little pistol--to Richard Manx. And I am
+convinced that the merest glimpse of it would be enough for him. You can
+tell by looking into a man's face and eyes whether he is brave as well
+as bold, and I am satisfied that Richard Manx is a coward.
+
+I saw him this evening. I have not yet had an opportunity to tell you
+that he endeavoured to make himself very agreeable to me three days
+ago, when he met me, as I was returning to Great Porter Square from the
+post-office. He promised to make me a present of some acid drops, of
+which he seems to be very fond. He did not keep his word until this
+evening, when he presented me with a sweet little packet, which I
+put into the fire when I was alone. He spoke of his property and his
+expectations.
+
+"I wish," said he, as he offered me the sweets, "that this paper was
+filled with diamonds; it would be--a--more agreeable. But I am poor,
+miserably poor--as yet. It will be one day that I shall be rich--then
+shall I present myself to you, and offer to you what I better wish."
+
+"Why should you do so?" I asked. "You are a gentleman, although you have
+no money----"
+
+"Ah, yes," he said, interrupting me, and placing his hand on his heart,
+"I am a gentleman. I thank you."
+
+"And," I continued, "I am so much beneath you."
+
+"Never," he said, energetically; "I have said to you before, you are a
+lady. Think you I do not know a lady when she presents herself? It is
+not station--it is not birth--it is not rank. It is manner. On my honour
+I say it--you are a lady."
+
+I gave him a sharp look, doubtful for a moment whether he was in
+earnest; but the false ring in his false voice should of itself have
+convinced me that he was as insincere as it was possible for any human
+being to be.
+
+"It is," he said, with a wave of his hand towards the Square, "still
+excitement. People still come to look and see. What do they expect?"
+
+"I suppose," I said, "it is because of that wonderful account in the
+newspaper about the poor gentleman who was murdered. Did you read it?"
+
+"Did I read it!" he echoed. "I was the first. It is what you
+say--wonderful. What think you of the lady with the pretty name--I
+forget it--remind me of it."
+
+"Lydia," I said.
+
+"Ah, yes, Lydia. It is a pretty name--remarkable." ("Then," thought I,
+following his words and manner with close attention, "if you think the
+name so pretty and remarkable, how comes it that you forget it so soon?"
+But I did not say this aloud.) "What think you of her?"
+
+"I think she is to be pitied," I said; "it was a dreadful story she told
+the reporter. It is like a romance."
+
+"A romance," he said, "is something that is not true?"
+
+"It _must_ be true," I said. "Do you suppose any person--especially a
+lady, as Mrs. Holdfast is--could possibly say what is not true, in such
+a position as hers?"
+
+"It is not--a--possible," he replied. "You are right. What say the
+people? As you say?"
+
+"They can say nothing else. What object could she have to serve in
+speaking anything but the truth? Her husband is dead; that wicked young
+man--what was his name?" I asked, serving him in his own coin.
+
+"Frederick," he said, quickly.
+
+"That wicked young man, Frederick, is dead, and she is left alone, a
+rich widow. Money is very nice. I should like to have as much. I think
+it would almost console me for the loss of a husband--especially a
+husband much older than myself."
+
+Forgive me, my dear, for speaking in this way, but to say honestly to a
+man like Richard Manx what is in one's mind would not be wise.
+
+He smiled at my words.
+
+"It may be," he said, "that Madame Lydia thinks as you. But you would
+not have been so--what do you call it? indiscreet?--yes, that word
+will do--you would not have been so indiscreet as to say to a gentleman
+of the press as much as she said. It was too candid--there was
+no--a--necessity. Why proclaim it?"
+
+"Why not proclaim it?" I asked, "It may assist justice."
+
+"Assist what?"
+
+"Justice," I replied. "What is that unfortunate lady's first and most
+earnest desire? To discover the murderer of her husband, and to make him
+pay the penalty of his crime. It would be mine. I would even go to see
+the monster hanged."
+
+"It is the proper word. Monster--yes, he is, he must be. But you
+could never--no never! You are too soft--that is, tender. Who is the
+monster? If you it were who was wronged, I am he who would find him.
+But this Madame Lydia, she is to me nothing. What say you? Can you
+suspect? In this Great Porter Square can anyone suspect? Our amiable
+lady of No. 118--Mrs. Preedy--even she cannot say. Ah, but it is
+dark--mysterious. Yet I have a thought--it is here." He tapped his
+forehead. "Shall I speak it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Bah! Why? It is not to me an interest. But if you wish so much to hear!
+Ah! well--my thought is this. The son, the wicked young man, Frederick,
+he is, they say, dead. But if he be not dead? What then? The monster,
+he--in secret to kill the father he betrayed!"
+
+I turned my face from him, for I felt that it had grown suddenly white.
+My heart beat violently. Swiftly to my mind rushed the thought of your
+deadly peril. There came to me, in one clear, convincing flash, what,
+under other circumstances, would have taken me hours to work out. Think
+for yourself--consider calmly the circumstantial force of all that has
+passed--and you will see, as I see, how easy it would be to construct a
+chain of evidence against you from which it is scarcely possible you
+could escape.
+
+"You are agitated," said Richard Manx. "You turn from me. Why?"
+
+In an instant I recovered my self-possession. I turned my face to him,
+and it seemed to me as if I had forced colour into it.
+
+"The thought is so horrible," I said. "That a son should kill his father
+in cold blood! I cannot bear to contemplate it. What wickedness there is
+in the world!"
+
+"It is so," said Richard Manx, with a smile, as though we were
+conversing on a pleasant subject. "Then what shall a man do? Live
+well--eat well--drink well--sleep well. There is a reason. The world is
+wicked. I cannot alter it. You cannot alter it. A lesson comes. Enjoy.
+Must you go? Must you leave me? I kiss your hand. No? In my fancy, then.
+Till again, fair Becky, adieu."
+
+Our conversation was at an end, and I was thankful. I have been
+particular in my endeavour to show you the man, from his words and
+manner of speech. Good-night, my dearest. In my own mind I am satisfied
+that this day has not been wasted. It leads to days more important to
+you and to your ever devoted.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+IN WHICH BECKY NARRATES HOW FANNY BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH MRS. LYDIA
+HOLDFAST.
+
+
+MY DEAR LOVE,--Again I beg of you, in reply to your expressions of
+anxiety in the letter Fanny brought to me this morning, not to give
+yourself unnecessary anxiety about me. You are alarmed at the position
+in which I have placed myself; you are alarmed because Richard Manx
+is in the same house with me; you are alarmed because I have bought
+a revolver. I assure you there is no reason why you should be so
+distressed. The position in which I have placed myself is, I am more
+than ever convinced, the only one which will enable me to reach the
+heart of this mystery. Richard Manx is but one person against many.
+I, and Mrs. Preedy, and Fanny, and the neighbours, and the policeman,
+with whom I am on friendly terms, are surely more than a match for
+him. You are alarmed because I have in my possession a toy pistol.
+Is not a woman, in an emergency, to be trusted with a weapon? In such
+circumstances as ours, why should not a woman have as much courage as a
+man? Why should not a woman undertake a task such as I have undertaken,
+when her heart is engaged in it, when the honour and safety of the man
+she loves are engaged in it, when the whole happiness of her life and
+his is engaged in it? That would be like saying that women are fit for
+nothing in the world but to wait upon men's actions and to follow them,
+whichever way they lead. It is not so. In such a crisis as this a woman
+can do, and do better, what it would be out of the power of a man to
+accomplish. I would willingly relinquish my task if I thought it could
+be accomplished without my aid. But it cannot be. You are powerless;
+there is no one but myself capable and willing to carry it out; and
+indeed, indeed, I am in no danger! My dear, you underrate our sex. Read
+this letter carefully, and then confess that your fears are groundless,
+and that I am doing what is right and best to be done.
+
+Fanny heard nothing last night. There was no sound in the next house.
+For a reason. Richard Manx was not in his room, and did not make his
+appearance until this afternoon. Then I remembered that last week, on
+the same day, it was the same. There is one night in the week, then,
+in which he has business elsewhere. I shall take advantage of that
+discovery.
+
+When Fanny returned with your letter this morning, I prepared for a
+masterstroke. Its success depended much upon chance, much upon Fanny's
+shrewdness. I cut her hair short, and fitted the wig I bought yesterday
+on her head. It is a wig of fair hair, with long curls. She looks lovely
+in it. When night fell, I dressed her in her new clothes, which were not
+new, but second-hand; and, covered with the waterproof, there she was,
+ready for her task.
+
+My desire was that she should manage to become acquainted with Mrs.
+Lydia Holdfast, and so ingratiate herself with that person as to be able
+to bring me reports of her movements and proceedings. Having impressed
+this upon her, I asked her whether she would undertake the task. Her
+answer was that she would go through fire and water to serve me;
+that she knew exactly what I wanted, and was going to do it. I was
+so satisfied with her readiness that it was with a feeling of great
+confidence I sent her on her mission. I waited for my opportunity, and
+no one saw her leave the house. Whether what I called my masterstroke
+will really turn out to be one will be proved in a very short time.
+Something has already been achieved. Fanny has become acquainted with
+Mrs. Lydia Holdfast.
+
+She returned an hour ago, and is now abed in old Mrs. Bailey's room.
+Exactly at ten o'clock I went into the Square, and found Fanny waiting
+for me. I whipped off her wig, and brought her home. The nights are
+dark, and there is little fear of detection; and even in that case I
+have an amusing story ready, which will easily account for what will
+look like a harmless freak.
+
+When she left Great Porter Square, Fanny went at once to the house in
+which your father lived, and which his widow still inhabits. She waited
+outside for a long time until at length a lady came out whom, from
+my description of her, Fanny recognised to be Mrs. Lydia Holdfast. A
+carriage was at the door, and as Mrs. Holdfast stepped towards it, Fanny
+pulled her dress. Mrs. Holdfast snatched her dress away impatiently,
+without speaking, and walked to her carriage, Fanny following her.
+
+"If you please, ma'am," said Fanny.
+
+"What do you want? What do you want?" cried Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+"I want to speak to you," said Fanny.
+
+"Well, speak!" exclaimed Mrs. Holdfast. "Don't you see I'm in a hurry?"
+
+A coachman stood at the carriage door to wait upon his mistress.
+
+"I want to speak to you alone, please," said Fanny.
+
+"You can't," cried Mrs. Holdfast. "Take this beggar-girl away."
+
+The coachman endeavoured to obey the order, but little Fanny was too
+quick for him. She slipped between his arms, and again stood by the side
+of Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+"Ain't you Mrs. Holdfast?" she asked, looking up into the lady's face.
+
+"Yes," was the reply.
+
+"Mrs. Grace Holdfast," said Fanny, as bold as brass. I think it would be
+difficult to find her equal.
+
+Mrs. Holdfast, as she heard this name, Grace, which Fanny spoke loudly,
+gave a scream, and seizing Fanny by the arm, hurried back with her into
+the house. There were servants standing about, but Mrs. Holdfast took no
+notice of them; she put her hand on Fanny's lips, and dragged her into
+an empty room. Closing the door, and locking it, she bent down to Fanny
+and shook her roughly.
+
+Fanny did not speak or scream, but twisted herself as soon as she could
+from Mrs. Holdfast's grip, and said,
+
+"There! You have made my wig all crooked."
+
+Heaven only knows where this child got her wits from, but if she had
+been drilled for a month she could not have acted the spirit of her part
+with greater cleverness. The words I did not teach her; I simply told
+her what I wanted her to do, and left the rest to herself.
+
+"There!" she cried. "You have made my wig all crooked."
+
+And she ran to the looking-glass and set it straight again. There must
+have been something in her manner which made Mrs. Holdfast laugh, but as
+Fanny described it, her laugh was broken off in the middle.
+
+"Come here directly," said Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+Fanny obeyed. Mrs. Holdfast knelt upon the ground, and, holding Fanny's
+face between her hands, looked long and hard at her.
+
+"I don't know you," she said; and then she coloured up, for she saw that
+Fanny was returning the earnest gaze.
+
+"If you please, my lady," said Fanny, "I beg your pardon for calling you
+Grace; my sister said you wouldn't like it, but you were running away,
+and I couldn't help it."
+
+"Who is your sister?" asked Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+And now imagine Fanny, instead of at once answering the question,
+fainting dead away. A real swoon? Not a bit of it. A sham, to gain time
+to study the ground of action.
+
+Mrs. Holdfast, at first, did not appear to know what to do. She allowed
+Fanny to lie on the ground, and although the child's eyes were nearly
+quite closed, she declares that not a movement nor an expression of
+Mrs. Holdfast escaped her. I am entirely inclined to believe every
+word spoken by Fanny as she related the adventure. She says that Mrs.
+Holdfast looked at her for a moment, then turned away for a moment, then
+looked at her again, as though wishing that she was dead. Upon which
+Fanny gave a sigh, and murmured something about being faint and hungry.
+
+Mrs. Holdfast rang a bell, and going to the door, unlocked it, and spoke
+to a servant, from whom she received a decanter of wine. She locked the
+door again, and returning to Fanny, raised the child's head, and put the
+decanter to her lips. Fanny allowed herself gradually to recover, and
+presently opened her eyes, and struggled to her feet.
+
+"Now," repeated Mrs. Holdfast, "who is your sister, and what has brought
+you here?"
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+IN WHICH BECKY NARRATES HOW FANNY BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH MRS. LYDIA
+HOLDFAST.
+
+
+By this time Fanny had invented a cunning little story.
+
+"If you please, my lady," she replied, "my sister is an actress, and
+I've come here to ask you to help me."
+
+"But you don't know me; you've never spoken to me before," said Mrs.
+Holdfast.
+
+"I've never spoken to you," said Fanny, "but I remember you well. You
+used to go to the theatre in the country, where Nelly was engaged.
+That's the reason she sent me to you."
+
+"Is Nelly your sister?"
+
+"Yes, my lady. She was in the front row, and I used to come on in the
+crowd. I got a shilling a night, and Nelly had a pound a week. We lived
+near you in Oxford, and often saw you pass. Nelly was always talking of
+you, and saying how beautiful you were, and what a lady, and how lucky
+to have such swell friends. She used to wish she was like you, and when
+you went away she wondered where you had gone to. Well, things got bad,
+and Nelly and I came to London a month ago; and now she has left me, and
+I don't know what I am to do."
+
+"Why didn't your sister take you with her?" asked Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+"She could tell you; I can't, except that she said two's company and
+three's none. She said yesterday morning, 'I'm off, Dot; I can't stand
+this any longer. No engagement and no money. You must look after
+yourself, Dot. I tell you what to do if you're hard up. You go to this
+address'--(and she gave me the address of your house)--'and ask for Mrs.
+Holdfast. Don't say Grace Holdfast--she mightn't like it--and say I knew
+her in Oxford, and ask her to help you. She'll do it. She's got a kind
+heart, and knows what it is to be unfortunate.' Well, that's all--except
+that in the afternoon a gentleman came, and asked for Nelly. She goes
+down to him, and I hear what they say. It ain't much. 'Are you ready?'
+the gentleman asks. 'Oh, yes,' says Nelly, in a kind of saucy way, 'I'm
+ready enough.' Then Nelly asked him for some money, and he gave her a
+sovereign. She runs up to me, whips on her hat, kneels down, kisses me,
+puts the sovereign in my hand, and says, 'Good-bye, Dot, I can't help
+leaving you; what's the use of stopping here to starve? Get away from
+this house as soon as you can, for there's rent owing that I can't pay.
+Mrs. Holdfast will give you a lift if you want one.' She kisses me
+quick, over and over again, and runs down stairs, and out of the house.
+Well, I'm crying and the landlady comes in and asks, sharp, where Nelly
+has gone, and when I tell her, she flies into a passion, and says
+there's three weeks' rent owing, besides other money. My hand is shut
+tight, with the sovereign in it, and the landlady must have seen it
+through my fingers, for she tries to force them open, but she can't till
+she digs her knuckles into the back of my hand, when, of course, the
+sovereign rolls out. 'Oh,' says the landlady, 'your sister's left this
+on account. All right; I hope she'll pay the rest when she comes back.'
+She pockets the sovereign, and this morning she turns me out of the
+house, and tells me she has let the room. So I am obliged to go, and I
+didn't know what else to do except to come to you."
+
+I am not in a position to describe the exact effect this story, as
+related by Fanny, produced upon Mrs. Holdfast. For my part, I was amazed
+at the child's ingenuity. I doubt whether she could have invented
+anything that would be likely better to serve our purpose. I am of
+opinion that Mrs. Holdfast was both amused and frightened, and I think
+she has some plan in her head with reference to Fanny. At all events,
+she gave Fanny five shillings, and bade her come again to-morrow, in
+the evening; and before Fanny left her, she made the child promise not
+to mention to a soul in the world anything about ever having seen her
+anywhere else but in London. Fanny promised, and left the house. To come
+straight home to me? No. The cunning little creature waited outside Mrs.
+Holdfast's house until the lady came out. She watched her get into her
+carriage, and when it started she ran ahead of the horses until she was
+out of breath. Then she called a cab, and paying the man out of her five
+shillings, told him to follow the carriage. It stopped at the Criterion
+Theatre, and Fanny, jumping from the cab, saw Mrs. Holdfast enter the
+theatre.
+
+That is all I have to tell you to-night. You may be assured that Mrs.
+Holdfast does not feel any poignant grief at the loss of her husband.
+Otherwise she would keep from theatres for a little while. The state of
+widowhood is evidently one which gives her satisfaction. I wonder what
+the Reporter of the newspaper who wrote the "Romance of Real Life,"
+partly from her own lips, would say, if he saw Mrs. Holdfast laughing in
+the theatre so shortly after the discovery of the murder of her husband.
+Because the piece they are playing at the Criterion is taken from the
+French, and is intended to make you laugh. All the actors and actresses
+who play in it are comedians, and do their best to create fun. The
+Reporter would put on his "Considering Cap," as the children's books
+say. If she had gone to see a tragedy, where she could cry her eyes
+out, she might have offered some excuse. But a laughable play, the
+morality of which is not very nice! That is a different pair of shoes.
+Undoubtedly it is a risk for Mrs. Holdfast to run; but unless I am much
+mistaken in her, she loves to run risks. She could not live without
+excitement. Your father's widow, my dear, was not cut out for a nun.
+
+I feel like a person with a chess board before her, in the middle of
+a game which, to lose, would ruin her. I shall not lose it. Every hour
+the position of the pieces is becoming more clear to me, and I am
+discussing in my mind the advisability of two or three bold moves. But I
+will wait a little; something of importance will very soon be revealed
+to me. Good night, my dear. Sleep well. Every moment that passes brings
+our happiness nearer and nearer.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+MR. PELHAM MAKES HIS APPEARANCE ONCE MORE.
+
+
+MY DEAR LOVE,--My note written last night was short, because I had
+scarcely anything to say, and I postponed what I had to tell until
+to-night. Mrs. Holdfast did not detain Fanny long yesterday. She asked
+but one question, which, if the little girl had not been prepared
+to answer, would have removed Fanny from the game, and increased
+the difficulties of our task. In the story Fanny invented for the
+mystification of Mrs. Holdfast I saw one great danger. Mrs. Holdfast is
+not playing alone; there is a master mind behind her. Who that master
+mind is it was necessary for me to discover, and I have made the
+discovery. I shall not be surprised if, in the letter I shall write to
+you to-morrow night I am able to tell you something of the very greatest
+moment.
+
+Fanny's danger was this: She had told a clever story; had invented a
+sister, and had furnished a tolerably fair excuse for forcing herself
+upon a lady of Mrs. Holdfast's position. But she had spoken of herself
+and her sister living in lodgings in London. If there is one thing Mrs.
+Holdfast desires at present to avoid it is the slightest chance of
+anything coming before the public which would tend to prove that she and
+Grace who destroyed Sydney Campbell are one and the same person. Perhaps
+the only person who, in an indirect way, is aware of this fact (that is,
+to Mrs. Holdfast's knowledge) is Fanny. Here was a risk; and between
+Fanny's first and second visit to Mrs. Holdfast, the suggestion had in
+some way arisen that the little girl might have been instructed in her
+part by an unseen enemy. It was necessary, therefore, to test the truth
+of Fanny's story, and there was only one point which could be seized
+upon. In what street in London, in what house, did Fanny and her sister
+live before the sister ran away? This occurred to my sharp mind before
+it had been suggested to Mrs. Holdfast, and I determined to manufacture
+evidence. I enlisted Mrs. Preedy on my side. I bought her a new gown,
+a cloak, and a hat, and I made her a present of them. Then, having
+entirely won her heart--she told me that she looked upon me as a
+daughter--I cautiously imparted to her what I wanted her to do for me.
+It appeared that nothing was easier. For a few shillings a friend of
+Mrs. Preedy, living half a mile from Great Porter Square, undertook,
+in case a lady called to ask there, to give certain answers to certain
+questions about two lodgers, one called Nelly and the other Dot. The
+lesson was a simple one, and was easily learned. Armed with the address,
+Fanny went to Mrs. Holdfast, according to appointment. I may inform you
+that I am placing fuller reliance than ever upon little Fanny, and that
+I have related to her a great deal of Grace's life in Oxford, which, in
+case of need, she can turn to useful account. As I anticipated, Mrs.
+Holdfast asked Fanny in what house she and her sister lived in London.
+Without hesitation, Fanny gave the address of Mrs. Preedy's friend, and
+Mrs. Holdfast dismissed her, desiring her to call again on the following
+day--this morning. I ascertained to-day that Mrs. Holdfast called at the
+address, and received the answers prepared for her.
+
+I must tell you what Mrs. Preedy said to me during the evening.
+
+"My dear, you are not what you pretend to be."
+
+I gave her a spirited answer, knowing by this time how to manage her.
+
+"You are a clever woman," I replied, looking at her admiringly; "you
+have guessed my secret; not one in a thousand would have done it. I am
+_not_ a servant-of-all-work, and I came here to be out of the way, let
+me say, of my young man. Well now, there's no harm in that, is there?"
+
+"Not a bit of harm," she said. "But what is it all about?"
+
+"I can't tell you just now," I said. "You may be certain of one thing.
+If things go on as they've been going on lately, you will be none the
+worse off for it. If I don't go into partnership with you, I shall make
+you a very handsome present, and I shan't ask you for any wages. I have
+broken a lot of things since I've been here, but I've bought new ones in
+their place. Mrs. Preedy, you leave everything to me, and I will show
+you that Becky can be grateful."
+
+"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Preedy, "so long as there's no harm done,
+I don't mind. You're a good sort, and I dare say have seen a lot of
+trouble. So have I. Women are born to be imposed upon."
+
+"Does our young man lodger pay his rent regularly?" I asked, pretending
+to know nothing.
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Preedy, sadly, "since he has lived here I haven't
+seen the colour of his money."
+
+"Now," I said, smiling, "suppose I pay it for him. Not for his sake--for
+yours. I'm not sweet on him, though he pretends to be on me. It's a
+shame that you should be taken in by a foreign gentleman like him--you
+can't afford it."
+
+I found out how many weeks' rent he owed, and I paid it. I don't think
+anything is wanting to complete the conquest of my mistress's heart. You
+see I am spending some of the money you gave me; I couldn't get along
+without it.
+
+To-day Mrs. Holdfast received Fanny very graciously, called her a nice
+little thing, said she was growing quite fond of her, and was almost
+inclined to take her into the house to live with her.
+
+"Oh, how I wish you would!" cried Fanny.
+
+However, it appears that at present Mrs. Holdfast, even if she is in
+earnest, cannot take Fanny into her house. If it _were_ done Fanny would
+find a way to communicate with me, and tell me all that is going on.
+
+Mrs. Holdfast expressed great curiosity about Fanny's sister, and asked
+the child whether Nelly did not give her an address to write to.
+
+"O, yes," said Fanny, prepared for any emergency; "Nelly's gone to
+Paris. She said I might write to her at the post-office there."
+
+What does Mrs. Holdfast do but write a letter to Fanny's sister, and
+address it to the Poste Restante, Paris. She did not give the letter to
+Fanny to post. What is in the letter? Nothing important, perhaps, but
+written in the endeavour to more completely verify the truth of Fanny's
+story. Or perhaps Mrs. Holdfast really knew some actresses in the
+country, and is anxious to ascertain if Nelly is one of her old
+acquaintances.
+
+Now I will tell you something more important.
+
+"You are a shrewd little thing," said Mrs. Holdfast to Fanny; "I have a
+good mind, although I can't let you sleep in the house, to take you into
+my service."
+
+"O, do, ma'am, do!" cried Fanny.
+
+"Well, I'll try you. But mind--you must keep my secrets. Do you know any
+person in London besides me?"
+
+"Not a blessed soul!" replied Fanny. "And I'll keep your secrets--you
+try me. O, I don't believe there's a kinder lady in the world than you
+are!"
+
+"She's an artful one," said Fanny to me, as she gave me the particulars
+of this conversation, "but I'm an artfuller!"
+
+Mrs. Holdfast is so extraordinarily vain that even this deserted child's
+praise was agreeable to her.
+
+"Be true to me," said Mrs. Holdfast, "and I'll make a lady of you. Are
+you fond of babies?"
+
+To which Fanny replied that she doted on them. Mrs. Holdfast rang a
+bell, and desired the maid who answered it to take Fanny into the
+nursery.
+
+"I'll come up to you presently," said Mrs. Holdfast.
+
+Fanny went into the nursery, where she saw what she describes as the
+loveliest baby in the world, all dressed in laces and silks, "more like
+a beautiful wax doll," said Fanny, "than anything else." It was Mrs.
+Holdfast's baby, the maid told Fanny, and her mistress doted on it.
+
+"I've seen a good many babies and a good many mothers," said the maid,
+"but I never saw a mother as fond of a baby as Mrs. Holdfast is of
+hers."
+
+Fanny's account agrees with the maid's words. When Mrs. Holdfast came
+into the nursery, and took her baby, and sat in a rocking chair, singing
+to the child, Fanny said it was very hard to believe that a woman like
+that could do anything wrong. If Fanny were not truthful and faithful to
+me, and would rather have her tongue cut out than deceive me, I should
+receive her version of this wonderful mother's love with a great deal
+of suspicion. But there can be no doubt of its truth. I remember that
+the Reporter of the _Evening Moon_ spoke of this, and that it won his
+admiration, as it could not fail to win the admiration of any person
+who did not know how wicked is the heart that beats in Mrs. Holdfast's
+bosom. Can you reconcile it with your knowledge of her? I cannot. It
+does not raise the character of the woman in my eyes; it debases it.
+
+In the nursery Mrs. Holdfast gave Fanny a letter, with instructions to
+deliver it to the gentleman in person, and to wait for an answer.
+
+My dear, this letter was addressed "Mr. Pelham, 147, Buckingham Palace
+Road."
+
+Here at once is established the fact of the continuance of the intimacy
+between Mr. Pelham and Mrs. Holdfast. Is it possible that your father,
+after you left the country, discovered that his wife was deceiving him,
+and flew from the shame of her presence? It must be so. What, then, took
+place between husband and wife, and to whose advantage would it be that
+he should be made to disappear? I shudder to contemplate the answer. I
+can find but one; it is horrible to think of.
+
+Fanny received the letter without remark, and went to the address in
+Buckingham Palace Road. Mr. Pelham was in, and Fanny was desired to walk
+up-stairs. There, in a handsomely-furnished room, she saw Mr. Pelham,
+lounging on a sofa, smoking and drinking. "A regular swell," said Fanny.
+He tore the letter open, and tossed it away passionately, without
+reading it.
+
+"You haven't taken anything out of it?" he cried to Fanny.
+
+"Oh, no, sir," replied Fanny, "it's just as Mrs. Holdfast gave it to me.
+I was to wait for an answer."
+
+Fanny says he looked as savage as if he had expected to find the
+envelope full of money, and didn't find a penny. He drew the letter
+to him and read it; then rose, and took some paper from a desk,
+scribbled an answer, which he put carelessly into an envelope and
+threw over to Fanny, saying, "Give her that!" Fanny states that he
+is not an agreeable-looking gentleman, and that there is something
+about him that reminds her of ---- but here Fanny stopped, and would
+not finish what she intended to say. She roused my curiosity, but she
+would not satisfy it.
+
+"Wait a bit," she said. "I've got an idea in my head. If it's a right
+one I shall astonish you. If it ain't, it would be foolish to speak
+about it."
+
+I could get nothing more than this out of her, and I let the subject
+drop, but there is evidently something very weighty on her mind.
+
+She hurried into the street with Mr. Pelham's answer to Mrs. Holdfast's
+note, and getting into a quiet nook, where she was free from
+observation, asked a girl to read it to her. Mr. Pelham had scarcely
+wetted the gum, and the envelope was easily unfastened. Fanny
+endeavoured to commit the letter to memory, but she failed; the girl who
+read it to her could not quite make out the words. The letter contained
+a demand for money, and Mr. Pelham said in it that before the week was
+out he must have a cheque for five hundred pounds. One remark Fanny
+perfectly remembered. "If you are going to turn niggardly and stingy,"
+wrote Mr. Pelham, "I shall have to keep the purse myself. Don't forget
+that the money is as much mine as yours, more mine than yours indeed,
+and that I could ruin you with one word."
+
+Fanny says that when Mrs. Holdfast read the letter (which she delivered
+properly fastened) and came to those words--of course Fanny could only
+guess that--Mrs. Holdfast said aloud:
+
+"And yourself, too, Pelham. It would go harder with you than with me."
+
+For a moment--only for a single moment, as I gather from Fanny--Mrs.
+Holdfast's face grew haggard, but she became gay again instantly, and
+began to sing and talk lightly. Can such a nature as hers really feel?
+
+Again, for the second time this week, Richard Manx has not come to his
+room in Great Porter Square. I make sure of this by putting the chain on
+the street door after mid-night. I attach importance to the slightest
+circumstance now, and do not allow anything to escape me. Do not for a
+moment let your courage and your hopefulness fail you. We have not yet
+obtained a tangible link to start from, but it appears to me as if
+events were coming closer; something will come to light presently which
+will assist in the discovery of your father's murderer. You are never
+absent from my thoughts; you are for ever in my heart. I am yours till
+death.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+FANNY DISCOVERS WHO RICHARD MANX IS.
+
+
+MY DARLING--What has occurred to-day must be related with calmness,
+although my mind is in a whirl of excitement. The presentiment I felt
+last night that we were on the threshold of an important discovery has
+come true. A discovery _has_ been made which neither you nor I could
+ever have dreamt of, and we have to thank Fanny for it. How wonderfully
+all the circumstances of life seem to be woven into one another! Little
+did I think, when I first met the poor, hungry little girl, and was kind
+to her, that she would repay me as she has repaid me, and that we should
+owe to her, perhaps, the happiness of our lives. I may be mistaken; I
+may be speaking more out of my heart than my head, more out of my hopes
+than my reason. But surely what Fanny has discovered will lead to a
+discovery of greater moment. It is, as yet, the most important link in
+the chain. We must consider what is best to be done. At noon, Fanny said
+to me:
+
+"I want a holiday; I've got something to do."
+
+She spoke abruptly, and with great earnestness.
+
+"You don't intend to run away from me, Fanny," I said, and immediately
+repented my words, for Fanny seized my hands, and kissed them, with
+tears running down her face.
+
+"Run away from you!" she cried. "Never--never--never! How could you
+think it of me. I would die for you--indeed, indeed I would!"
+
+I quieted her, trying to excuse myself by saying that it was only
+because she was keeping something secret from me that the words escaped
+me.
+
+"But I'm doing it for you," she said. "To-night I'll tell you
+everything."
+
+Now, read how Fanny passed the day. I will relate it as nearly as
+possible out of her lips.
+
+"When I went into Mr. Pelham's room, yesterday," she said, "in
+Buckingham Palace Road, I didn't suspect anything at first. I didn't
+like his looks, but that was nothing. There are lots of people I don't
+like the looks of. I remained there while he threw away the letter, and
+while he drank and smoked. He was drinking wine, and he emptied three
+glasses one after another. It wasn't till he got up and went to his desk
+that I noticed something--a twitch of his left shoulder upwards, just as
+a man does when he shrugs his shoulders. But Mr. Pelham did not shrug
+his two shoulders, he shrugged one--the left one. I only knew one other
+man who did with his left shoulder what Mr. Pelham did, and I thought it
+funny. While he was writing his letter he threw away his cigar, and took
+a cigarette, and the way he put it into his mouth and rolled it between
+his lips was just the same as the other man who twitched his shoulder
+as Mr. Pelham did. Well, as I walked back to Mrs. Holdfast's house, I
+seemed to see the two men--Mr. Pelham and the other, shrugging their
+left shoulders, and rolling their cigarettes in their mouths, and what
+they did was as like as two peas, though they were two different men,
+though one was poor and the other rich. I couldn't help calling myself a
+little fool when the idea came to me that they were not different men
+at all, and I said to myself, 'What do they mean by it? No good, that's
+certain.' So I made up my mind to do something, and I did it to-day.
+
+"First, there was Richard Manx. I watched him out of the house. He came
+down from his garret a little after twelve; I stood in the dark passage,
+and watched him coming downstairs; he seemed to be out of temper, and he
+gave the wall a great blow with his hand. I think he would have liked to
+hear it cry out, so that he might be sure he had hurt it. I thought I
+shouldn't like him to strike _me_ in that way--but I don't suppose he
+would if any one was looking. He would have hit me as he hit the wall,
+if he had known what I was up to--that is, if nobody was near.
+
+"He went out of the house, closing the street door, O, so quietly behind
+him. Have you noticed how quietly he does everything? He walks like a
+cat--well, so can other people. I waited a minute after he closed the
+street door, and then I slipped out after him. I looked all ways, and I
+saw him just turning out of the Square into Great King Street. I soon
+turned the corner too, and there I was walking behind him on the other
+side of the way, with my eyes glued to him. Well, as good as glued. I
+can walk a long way behind a person, and never lose sight of him, my
+eyes are so sharp, and I didn't lose sight of Mr. Richard Manx, as he
+calls himself. He walked Lambeth way, and I noticed that he was looking
+about in the funniest manner, as though he was afraid he was being
+watched. The farther he got from Great Porter Square the more he looked
+about him; but no one took any notice of him--only me. Well, he went
+down a street where half the houses were shops and half not, and at the
+corner of the street was a coffee-shop. There were two doors facing him,
+one going into the shop where people are served, and the other going
+into a passage, very narrow and very dark. A little way up this passage
+was a door, which pushed open. Mr. Manx, after looking about him more
+than ever, went into the narrow dark passage, and pushed open the door.
+
+"What I had to do now was to wait until he came out, and to dodge about
+so that I shouldn't be seen or caught watching for something I didn't
+know what. It was a hard job, as hard a job as ever I was at, and it was
+all that I could do to keep people from watching me. I waited an hour,
+and another hour, and another hour, and Mr. Manx never came out of the
+coffee shop. I was regularly puzzled, and tired, and bothered. But I
+didn't know what a little fool I was till after waiting for at least
+four hours I found out that the coffee shop had two more doors on the
+side facing the other street; doors just like the others, one going into
+the shop, and the other into a narrow dark passage. When I found that
+out I thought that Mr. Manx must have gone in at one door in one street
+and come out at the other door in the other street, and I was regularly
+vexed with myself. But that didn't help me, and I walked away from
+Lambeth towards Buckingham Palace Road. I wanted to see with my own eyes
+if Mr. Pelham was at home. He was; I saw him stand for a minute at the
+window of his room on the front floor. Then I set to watching him. I
+wanted to find out where he was going to, and what he was up to. I
+suppose it was seven o'clock, and dark, before he came out. He walked
+till he met a cab, and as he got in I heard him give the direction of
+Mrs. Holdfast's house. That was enough for me; I followed him there, my
+feet ready to drop off, I was that tired. But I wasn't going to give
+up the job. No one came out of Mrs. Holdfast's house till nine o'clock
+struck; then the street door was opened, and Mr. Pelham walked into the
+street. He stood still a little, and I thought to myself he is thinking
+whether he shall take a cab. He didn't take one till he was half-a-mile
+from Mrs. Holdfast's house. I ran all the way after it. It was a good
+job for me that the cab was a four-wheeler, and that it went along slow,
+for running so hard set my heart beating to that extent that I thought
+it would jump out of my body. I scarcely knew where we were going, the
+night was that dark, but I knew it was not in the direction of
+Buckingham Palace Road. Mr. Pelham rode about a mile, then called out to
+the cabby, and jumped on to the pavement. He paid the man, and the cab
+drove away, and then Mr. Pelham walked slowly towards Lambeth, looking
+about him, although the night was so dark, in exactly the same way as
+Mr. Manx had done when I followed him from Great Porter Square. I had
+been on my feet all the day, and had walked miles and miles, and I
+hadn't had a bit of bread in my mouth since breakfast--but when I was
+certain that Mr. Pelham was walking to Lambeth I didn't feel hungry or
+tired. I said to myself, 'Fanny, your idea was right; but what does it
+all mean?' Well, I couldn't settle that; all I had to settle was that
+the two men who shrugged their left shoulders, and who rolled their
+cigarettes in their mouths in the way I had noticed, were not two men
+at all, but the same man, living in one place as a gentleman and an
+Englishman, and in another as a poor foreigner without a shilling. So I
+was not at all surprised to see Mr. Pelham, dressed like a swell, stop
+at the coffee shop at which Mr. Manx had stopped, and push through the
+dark passage by the door I had not noticed when I was waiting in the
+street this morning for Mr. Manx, and I wasn't at all surprised that Mr.
+Pelham didn't come out again. The man who came was the man I wanted, and
+I followed him home here to Great Porter Square, and he is in the house
+now." And here Fanny concluded the account of her day's adventures by
+asking, "Who came in five minutes before I did?"
+
+"Richard Manx," I replied.
+
+"It's all one," said Fanny, triumphantly; "Richard Manx is Mr. Pelham.
+There's no difference between them, except that one wears a wig, and
+paints his face, and talks like a foreigner, and that the other lives
+in a fine house, and drinks wine, and dresses like a gentleman. That
+was my idea last night. That was what I had to do when I asked you this
+morning to let me go for the day. There's something in it; I don't know
+what--that's for you to find out. Are you pleased with me?"
+
+I pressed the faithful child in my arms, and she gave a sigh and
+fainted. She was so eager to tell me of her discovery, and I was so
+anxious to hear it, that we both forgot that for fifteen hours not a
+morsel of food had passed her lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+BECKY AND FANNY ON THE WATCH.
+
+
+A cup of hot tea and some bread and butter soon made little Fanny lively
+again, and when she was quite recovered I questioned her upon many
+little points, so as to make sure that she was not mistaken. She
+convinced me. Richard Manx and Mr. Pelham are one and the same man, and
+Richard Manx's motive for taking lodgings in this house was that he
+might obtain, in a secret and unsuspected manner, access to the room
+in which your father was murdered. For what purpose? To destroy every
+evidence of the crime before the house comes into the possession of a
+new tenant, who might by chance discover what, up to the present moment,
+has escaped the eyes of the police? No--scarcely that, in a direct way.
+He is not seeking to destroy or discover anything which he _knows_ to be
+in existence; he is searching for a document which he _suspects_ your
+father concealed before he met his death. This is but a reasonable
+explanation of Richard Manx's presence here. Arguing in the dark, as we
+are, and without positive knowledge, we must have a tangible foundation
+on which to build our theories. I am speaking and arguing like a man, am
+I not, my dear? I wonder at myself as I read over some of the things I
+have written; but they are a proof that I have thrown aside all that is
+weak in my nature, and that I have courage and decision to meet any
+emergency.
+
+The document which Richard Manx suspects your father to have hidden, and
+for which he is searching, must, if it really exist, be of the utmost
+importance. Shall I tell you what Richard Manx believes this document to
+be? A second Will, which would make a beggar of the woman who betrayed
+him, and consequently of Mr. Pelham, who, with your father's widow, is
+enjoying your father's money--_your_ money, my dear! I am not mercenary,
+but next to the clearing of your name and the punishment of your
+father's murderer, I want you to enjoy what is your own. Selfish mortal
+that I am, I want you to be happy and rich, and I want to share your
+happiness and riches.
+
+If Richard Manx obtains possession of this document, it will be a
+serious blow to us. Something must be done, and done promptly--and at
+the same time we must not put Richard Manx on his guard.
+
+Now, pay particular attention to the following little piece of
+reasoning. Look at the date of the _Evening Moon_ in which the public
+were first made acquainted with the name of the murdered man. And by the
+side of that date place the significant fact that Mr. Pelham, disguised
+as Richard Manx, took lodgings here three weeks before that discovery
+was made. What follows? That Mr. Pelham knew, three weeks before the
+police became acquainted with the fact, that it was your father who had
+been murdered. Why, then, should he not have known it on the very night
+of the murder itself, and why did he keep the knowledge to himself? What
+was his reason for concealment? A world of dreadful conjecture opens
+itself to me, and I am almost afraid to put my thoughts on paper. They
+are not centred alone on Mr. Pelham; Mrs. Holdfast intrudes herself in a
+way that makes me shudder. My God! Is it possible that there can be such
+wickedness in the world?
+
+In the account Mrs. Holdfast gave the Reporter of the _Evening Moon_ (I
+have the paper now before me) from which he wrote his "Romance in Real
+Life," she says that in her distress at the mysterious absence of her
+husband, she went to a friend for advice. This friend had interested
+himself in her case, and had written to America in her behalf, to
+ascertain particulars of her husband's movements. Her friend it was who,
+according to her statement, first suggested that her husband might have
+been robbed and murdered. He sent her to a lawyer, who, during the
+interview, made a private memorandum which she read. The lawyer said,
+"We will find your husband for you, dead or alive;" and then he made
+the memorandum, as a guide for himself: "Look up the murders. How about
+the murder in Great Porter Square?" From that she proceeds to describe
+how she went to a number of shops, and bought a number of newspapers
+containing accounts of the discovery of the murder and of the accusation
+brought against Antony Cowlrick. Her suspicions were aroused. She gave
+the lawyer a portrait of her husband, and in a very little time it
+was ascertained and made public that it was Mr. Holdfast who had been
+murdered. Read by itself, the Reporter's description is enthralling;
+those who read for amusement would not stop to inquire as to whether
+this was likely or that reasonable; they would accept the statement
+without question, and give their sincere pity to a lady who had been
+so foully wronged. But, read by the light of what has come to our
+knowledge, the traces of collusion, deception, clever acting--of guilt
+perhaps--are as clear as sunlight. Observe that Mrs. Holdfast does not
+give the name of her friend--who must have been a very close friend
+indeed to take such an interest in her. I will give you his name--it is
+Pelham. Nor does she give the name of the lawyer to whom Mr. Pelham sent
+her. If you sought him and became acquainted with his antecedents, you
+would find that he was in Mr. Pelham's pay, and that, up to a certain
+point, he acted in accordance with instructions. I think I have
+established the fact that Mr. Pelham knew your father was dead long
+before it was made public. Mrs. Holdfast must also have known. Why did
+they wait so long before they took steps towards the discovery? To avert
+any chance of suspicion being directed towards themselves? It is likely
+enough, and that is also the reason, when you, as Antony Cowlrick, were
+brought up at the police-court on suspicion of being implicated in
+the murder, why Mr. Pelham kept carefully out of sight, and therefore
+had no opportunity of recognising you. In this excess of caution he
+over-reached himself.
+
+At length, however, the time arrived when it was imperative the name of
+the murdered man should be made known, and Mr. Pelham and Mrs. Holdfast
+acted in concert. Your father's Will, of course, could not be proved in
+your father's lifetime, so it was necessary that the fact of his death
+should be established. It was done, and clear sailing was before them,
+with the exception of one threatening gale which promises to wreck
+them--the document for which Richard Manx is searching. He has not found
+it yet, or he would not have struck the wall so viciously as he did this
+morning when Fanny was watching him. Fate is against him, and is on our
+side.
+
+Another little point, of which a lawyer would make a mountain. Did it
+not occur to you as very strange that Mrs. Holdfast so easily obtained
+from small newspaper shops a quantity of newspapers relating to a
+murder at least three months old? The shops do not keep a stock of old
+newspapers on hand: I know that this is so, from personal inquiry.
+
+Just now there comes to my mind the report in the papers that, during
+the nine days your father lived in the fatal house next door, he had but
+one visitor--a lady, who came so closely veiled that no person in the
+house caught a glimpse of her face? Do you think it possible that this
+lady was Mrs. Holdfast?
+
+Good night, my dearest. By the morning some plan may occur to me which
+may help us to the end. Fanny went to bed an hour ago. Mrs. Preedy is
+asleep, and all is quiet in the house. What would I give if I could see
+into the mind of our young man lodger, Richard Manx!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I re-open my letter; I have something to add to it.
+
+No sooner did I lay my head on my pillow than I fell asleep. I think I
+must have slept over an hour when I was awoke by the sound of some one
+opening my bedroom door. I raised myself in bed, and cried in a loud
+tone, "Who's there?"
+
+"Hush! Don't make a noise. I've come to tell you something."
+
+It was Fanny who spoke, and she was standing at my bedside.
+
+"Are you frightened, Fanny?" I asked. "Shall I light a candle?"
+
+"No," replied Fanny, "it might wake Mrs. Preedy. I'm not frightened.
+I've been on the look-out."
+
+I passed my hand over Fanny, and discovered that she was fully dressed;
+but so that she should not be heard she had taken off her boots.
+
+"On the look-out, Fanny!" I exclaimed. "Why you haven't been in bed!
+What is the meaning of it?"
+
+"I've been in bed," said Fanny, "but I didn't undress, and I didn't go
+to sleep. I've been listening. _He's_ in the next house."
+
+"Who?" I cried. "Richard Manx!"
+
+And I jumped up, and began to dress myself. Heaven only knows why, for
+I had no intention of going out of my bedroom.
+
+"Yes, Richard Manx," replied Fanny.
+
+"Have you heard anything?"
+
+"Yes, like some one taking up the floor."
+
+"A loud noise then, Fanny."
+
+"No--everything's being done soft--like a cat moving; but there's a
+crack sometimes, and a wrench, just the noise that would be made if
+boards were being taken up."
+
+These words set me all in a fever. Richard Manx was getting desperate,
+and did not mean to give up his search without examining everything in
+the room. What if he _should_ discover the document he is looking for?
+It would be he, then, who would hold the winning cards. The thought was
+torture. It seemed to me as if I were within reach of your happiness,
+your safety, of the vindication of your honour, and as if they were
+slipping from me.
+
+"Are you sure it is Richard Manx who is in the next house?" I asked.
+
+"As sure as guns," said Fanny.
+
+"How can you tell? You can't see through the walls."
+
+"No, I wish I could--then I should find out something more. When the
+noise first came I didn't move for a long while; I waited till Mr. Manx
+was deep in his little game; then I got up so quietly that Mrs. Bailey
+didn't stir, and I went out of the room, and upstairs to the garret.
+The door was shut, and I pushed it softly, and it gave way. I slid
+downstairs like lightning, for if Mr. Manx had been in the room he would
+have come to the door at once; then, if he didn't see anyone, he might
+think it was the wind that had blown the door open. But he didn't come
+because he wasn't in the room, and the door remained just as I left it.
+I crept up again, and peeped into the room; it was empty, and there
+_was_ a wind blowing--right over my head. I looked up, and saw a
+trap-door in the ceiling, open, and just under it two chairs, one on top
+of the other. That is how Mr. Manx reaches the roof; and he gets down
+into the next house through another trap-door."
+
+"How do you know that, Fanny?" I asked.
+
+"Why," said the courageous little creature, "You don't suppose I was
+going not to find that out, do you? I should be a nice one if I hadn't
+climbed up on the chairs, and lifted myself up on to the roof. I can do
+that a deal better than Mr. Manx, there's so little of me. I crept along
+on all-fours, and reached the other trap-door leading to the next house.
+It was open. I didn't go down because it was dark, and I was frightened
+of falling. It wasn't that I cared about hurting myself, but it would
+have brought Mr. Manx up to me, and then all the fat would have been in
+the fire. So I thought I would come back and tell you. Would you like to
+come up, and see for yourself?"
+
+I made up my mind to go. Yes, I would convince myself of the fact that
+it was Richard Manx who haunted the murder-stricken house for his own
+villainous purposes.
+
+I was soon completely dressed, and, giving Fanny some instructions, in
+case of danger, I accompanied her upstairs. I held my tiny revolver in
+my hand, and showed it to Fanny, who expressed great admiration. The
+child can be conquered by only one kind of fear, that which comes from
+hunger. She has suffered enough from that frightful torturer, but will
+never again, I hope.
+
+I went first into Mrs. Bailey's room; the old lady was in a sound sleep.
+I listened with my ear to the wall. Richard Manx was busy; caution was
+expressed in his every movement. Once or twice it almost seemed as if I
+heard his voice in impatient anger. I do not think it was fancy on my
+part; my senses were exquisitely alert to the slightest sign of this
+disguised enemy. While I was in Mrs. Bailey's room, Fanny remained in
+the passage. I found out afterwards that she had armed herself with a
+small, sharp-pointed knife, which I am convinced she would have used
+without hesitation in my defence. I with my pistol, and Fanny with
+her knife, were more than a match for Richard Manx if we came into
+collision. There is no bravery in the villain; at the first show of
+danger he would have fled, and Fanny, fleeter of foot than he, would
+have been after him. I hardly know whether it would be well for us or
+not that he should fall into the hands of the police, disguised as he
+is, and made to give an account of his movements. I shall do nothing
+for the next few hours to precipitate events. They appear to be shaping
+themselves to our advantage, for up to this moment Richard Manx's search
+has proved fruitless.
+
+I went upstairs, with Fanny close to me, to the garret. Everything
+there was as Fanny had described. The room was vacant; two chairs were
+strapped one on top of the other, affording a firm footing by which a
+person could climb on to the roof; the trap-door was open. I did not
+hesitate to search the room. In my detective capacity, proceedings I
+should ordinarily have blushed to take I now deem fair, but I found
+nothing in the place to help me or to endanger the liberty of Richard
+Manx. In a corner of the garret was a common trunk, locked; I tried to
+open it, but could not. I should have liked to find a portrait of Mrs.
+Holdfast--a womanly wish, which would never have occurred to you. I was
+about to mount the chairs to the roof when Fanny pulled my dress. Her
+quick ears, quicker even than mine, had caught a sound. We retreated
+noiselessly, closed the garret door and sat at the foot of the stairs,
+listening for Richard Manx's return. I wished to ascertain by the
+evidence of my own senses that he had not met with success in his
+search. If he had found any document he would have stopped up to read it
+before he retired to rest. Rest! Can such a conscience as this man must
+possess allow him ever to rest?
+
+Presently we heard him pull the trap-door in the roof over him; we heard
+him descend from the chairs, and place them in their proper positions;
+we saw the light of his candle through a chink in the garret door; he
+moved about stealthily for a few moments; and then he extinguished his
+light.
+
+This was sufficient for me; we were and are still on equal ground with
+respect to any document your father may have concealed before his death.
+For some hours all is safe; in the day time Richard Manx dare not enter
+the empty house. I have nothing more at present to say. Good-night, dear
+love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+NO. 119 GREAT PORTER SQUARE IS LET TO A NEW TENANT.
+
+
+To the closed shutters of No. 119 Great Porter Square was attached
+a board, on which were painted the words, "This House to Let on
+reasonable terms, or the Lease to be sold. Apply to Mr. Stapleton,
+House Agent, Great Andrew Street, Bloomsbury." The board had grown
+disconsolate-looking and disreputable, as though it was a partner in
+the disgrace which had fallen upon the tenement.
+
+At the time the notice "To Let" was attached to the shutters, the agent
+had no hope whatever of letting the house. "There isn't a chance of
+anybody taking it," he said, "for at least three months." The three
+months passed, and no probable tenant had made his appearance. "There's
+nothing for it but patience," he then said. "Would _you_ live in the
+house?" asked his wife, when he was dilating upon the folly of people
+allowing such a chance to escape them. "Not for untold gold!" he
+replied. "Well then!" she exclaimed; winding up the argument thus, as
+is the way with women.
+
+He was much astonished, therefore, upon returning to his office from his
+mid-day chop, to find a gentleman waiting to see him, who, closing the
+door of the little private room in which he transacted special business,
+asked him if No. 119 Great Porter Square was still to let.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Stapleton; "the board's up; you can see it as you pass
+the house."
+
+"I have not passed through Great Porter Square for a long time," said
+the gentleman, "and I was not aware that a board was up. I was directed
+to come to you by a friend, who told me you were the agent."
+
+"Do you wish to take the house?" asked Mr. Stapleton, looking with some
+suspicion upon his prospective client.
+
+"I should have no objection," said the gentleman, "If I can have it on
+my own terms----"
+
+"On any terms," interrupted Mr. Stapleton, a little too eagerly, and
+adding, in correction of his over-haste, "that is, for a certain
+time--after which, of course, we expect a fair rent. The prejudice
+against the place _must_ wear away one time or another."
+
+"But the murder remains," observed the gentleman, sadly; "time will not
+wear that away."
+
+"True," said Mr. Stapleton, coughing; "nothing can wear that away. But I
+refer to the sentiment, the feeling, the prejudice."
+
+"You interrupted me just now," said the gentleman, coming back to the
+practical. "I was about to say that I should have no objection to take
+the house if I can have it on my own terms and conditions. By 'terms' I
+don't mean money. I have no doubt we shall agree upon the question of
+rent."
+
+"We will put the house in repair for you," said Mr. Stapleton; "you can
+choose your own paper, and we will give it three good coatings of paint
+outside. In fact, anything you can suggest we shall be most happy to
+consider."
+
+"I have nothing to suggest," said the gentleman, "and I do not propose
+to put you to the expense of a shilling for repairs. I will take the
+house just as it is, if my conditions are complied with."
+
+Mr. Stapleton looked gravely at his visitor, and said, as he rubbed his
+chin:
+
+"I don't think we could let the house for the purposes of exhibition."
+
+"Good God!" cried the gentleman, "I should hope not. It would be making
+a trade of murder!"
+
+"My sentiments exactly," acquiesced Mr. Stapleton, "only you express
+them so much more forcibly." At the same time, he began to regard the
+gentleman as a very queer customer indeed, and to wonder why he was so
+long in coming to the point. Had he been aware of the gentleman's inward
+agitation and anxiety, and of what depended upon the result of this
+application, his wonder would have been lessened, and he might have
+raised the rent instead of lowering it.
+
+"May I ask what are your conditions?"
+
+"The first and most important," replied the gentleman, "is secresy. I
+wish no one to know that I have taken the house; I wish no one to know
+that it is let. The board will remain up; the house will remain as it
+is. All that I shall require of you is the key of the street-door. These
+conditions complied with, I will pay you six months' rent in advance,
+and I will make myself responsible for another six months. It is more
+than probable--nay, it is almost certain--that before three months are
+over I shall hand you back the key, with the rent for the additional six
+months. As a matter of bargain, it is not a bad one for you."
+
+"I admit it," said Mr. Stapleton; "what I have to consider, on the other
+hand, is whether it is a good thing for the house."
+
+"Do you think you can do better?"
+
+"I do not think I could; yours is the first application I have had
+since the murder was committed. You shudder, sir! It is enough to make
+one. If I had not been an agent for the estate, nothing would have
+induced me to undertake the letting of such a house. What am I to say in
+case another person, seeing the board still up, applies to me for the
+particulars?"
+
+"Say that, although the board remains, you have decided not to let the
+house for two or three months. No one can compel you to let it."
+
+"Certainly not--certainly not," said Mr. Stapleton. "You will excuse my
+remarking that there is something very mysterious in all this, and that
+you appear singularly anxious to take the house."
+
+"Your remark is a natural one. There _is_ something mysterious in it,
+and I _am_ most anxious to become your tenant."
+
+"You are candid enough in that respect, I must say. Will you favour me
+with your name and references?--you have references, of course; they are
+indispensable."
+
+"I have references, with which you will be satisfied. But I cannot give
+them to you, nor can I disclose my name, until you say the house is
+mine, on my conditions--to which I must add another: that my name is not
+entered on your books for your clerks to comment upon and prattle about.
+If you agree, and my references are satisfactory, the matter can be
+concluded at once. If they are not satisfactory, I cannot expect you
+to accept me as a tenant. It will be a grief to me, but I shall be
+compelled to submit, and must seek another mode of carrying out my
+designs."
+
+So much was Mr. Stapleton's curiosity excited that he consented to the
+proposed arrangement.
+
+"Now for the references," he said.
+
+"I will take you to them," responded the gentleman. "I am most earnestly
+desirous that the affair be concluded immediately. Charge me what you
+please for your loss of time in accompanying me, and believe that if it
+be in my power to show my gratitude to you by-and-bye, I shall not miss
+the opportunity."
+
+Unusual as was this mode of conducting his business, Mr. Stapleton
+consented, and accompanied the gentleman to a house in the most
+fashionable part of London, where he obtained a recommendation in
+every way satisfactory, and then to a common locality, where a private
+detective, known to him by name, vouched for the respectability of his
+proposed tenant.
+
+"Is this a police affair, then?" he asked of the detective.
+
+"Perhaps it is and perhaps it isn't," replied the detective. "What
+you've got to do with it is to take your rent, and keep your mouth
+shut."
+
+"A wink's as good as a nod," said Mr. Stapleton, and departed with
+his tenant to his office, where the preliminaries were completed, and
+the rent paid to him. He whistled softly when he heard the name of
+the tenant, which was given to him in confidence, but he took the
+detective's advice, and kept his mouth shut--except to his wife, upon
+his return home; but even to her he would impart nothing more than
+that he had that day transacted the strangest piece of business in his
+experience.
+
+Long before this strange piece of business was concluded, Becky had
+received the following reply to her letter:
+
+
+"MY DARLING,--Your news is most important, and little Fanny has earned
+my undying gratitude. As for yourself, I am at a loss what to say. The
+evidences of indomitable spirit you have displayed have filled me with
+wonder. It is given to me to know, as no other man has ever known, of
+what a noble woman's love is capable. You would inspire a dying man with
+hope and courage; but remember, you are a woman, and can only do, under
+certain circumstances, what it is in a woman's power to do. You have
+the heart of the bravest man, but you have not his strength. I know the
+villain Pelham, otherwise Richard Manx, to be a coward, but it is hard
+to say to what extremes a desperate man, brought to bay, may be driven.
+False courage may come to him in such a crisis--to last most likely but
+for a few minutes, or seconds even, but long enough to do a deed which
+may bring life-long sorrow to a loving heart--to my loving heart, which
+beats for you, as yours beats for me. Such a risk must not be run. You
+could cope, I believe, better than I could with such a creature as my
+murdered father's widow, upon whose soul lies the guilt of the death of
+two noble gentlemen, but you are not the equal of villains like Pelham,
+who would strike a woman, and tremble in the presence of a man. I feel
+faint to think of the peril you were in when you and your brave little
+friend entered Richard Manx's room in the dead of night. You do not
+realise it; I do, and I must take some step to avert danger from the
+girl I love, and to bring the murderer of my father to justice. The
+time for watching is over; the time for action has arrived. It is now
+for me to take up the thread of evidence which you have woven, and to
+strengthen it into a chain from which the guilty cannot escape. Time is
+too precious to waste; not another day, not another hour, must be lost.
+I agree with you that Pelham has reason to suspect that my dear father
+left behind him, and concealed, a document which may re-establish me
+in my place among men, and supply damning evidence against those who
+brought him to his death. It is, I see well, the only direct evidence
+upon which we can rely--for though Pelham, by coming to your house under
+a disguise, and by his subsequent actions, has laid himself open to the
+gravest suspicion and to certain disgrace, I doubt whether what could be
+brought against him would be sufficiently strong to clear up the awful
+mystery of my father's murder. And that is my first duty--to leave no
+stone unturned, to work with all my strength and cunning, with all my
+heart and soul and body, to satisfy the claims of justice. My father's
+blood calls out to me to devote myself utterly, to risk every danger,
+to die if need be, in the pursuit and accomplishment of this sacred
+duty. To bring disgrace upon Pelham is not sufficient--has he not
+already reached that end in his life and character? Something more than
+suspicious motive is needed, and I will not rest till he is hunted down,
+and his guilt brought home to him. Again and again I implore you to
+leave him now entirely to me. Go up to his room no more, or you may mar
+the steps I have already taken, and am about to take. I have told you
+that, when I was living in my dear father's house, I had in my employ a
+detective who tracked the shameless woman to an appointment with Pelham,
+and through whose instrumentality I hoped to open my father's eyes to
+the true character of the wife who was disgracing him. You know how
+she worked upon my father's deep love for her, and frustrated my just
+design. The use of the detective was, and is, revolting to me, but there
+was (and to a certain extent is) no other way of obtaining evidence.
+This detective, with men under him, is again in my employ. It was he
+who brought my Statement to you when I lately returned from Liverpool.
+Mr. Pelham, in his own proper person, and in the disguise he has
+assumed, is now under strict surveillance; and the partner of his guilt,
+my father's widow, is also being watched. Not a movement outside their
+houses will escape notice; nor shall they escape, in their own persons,
+if they make the attempt. I think something of the kind is meditated,
+for Mrs. Holdfast--it maddens me to think that I must call her by the
+name which I hope you will one day bear--is converting into money all my
+father's property, and she is not doing this without a motive. Let her
+beware! The sword is hanging over her head, and may fall at any moment.
+I can imagine no greater misery for this woman than to be thrust upon
+the world in a state of poverty. For even if she could be proved guilty
+of nothing but love's treachery as regards my father, I shall have no
+pity for her. She has tasted the pleasures of wealth, and it would
+poison all her after-life to be deprived of it. I write bitterly, and I
+do not attempt to disguise my feelings. The face of this woman--fair,
+alas! but that is one of the mockeries of nature--as it rises before me,
+seems almost to blight the sweet beauty which lies in innocence, truth
+and purity. Forgive me for my bitterness; I have suffered much; had it
+not been for you I should have lost all faith in goodness. How much I
+owe you!
+
+"It does not surprise me to learn, through Fanny's reading of the letter
+which Mr. Pelham gave her to deliver to Mrs. Holdfast, that Pelham and
+she are at variance upon monetary matters. Such natures as theirs are of
+necessity grasping and avaricious, and although they are bound to each
+other by the closest and most dangerous ties, there cannot possibly be
+harmony between them; experience has made each suspicious of the other,
+and has shown them, through the mirror of their own souls, how little of
+truth and honesty they can expect from each other. Had my father died
+a natural death, I should have been content to leave them to their own
+punishment--bitterer than any enemy could have made it for them.
+
+"By to-night's train a messenger leaves for Paris; to-morrow morning he
+will receive at the Poste Restante the letter Mrs. Holdfast wrote to
+Fanny's imaginary sister, Nelly. There may be nothing in it, but I have
+caught the inspiration of your own bold spirit; not a chance must be
+lost sight of. The messenger will open and read the letter in Paris,
+and, if necessary, he will reply to it and post his reply there. This,
+in any event, will avert suspicion from your brave little Fanny--God
+bless her!--in case she and Mrs. Holdfast should meet again.
+
+"You will readily understand that the expenses of all these proceedings
+are more than I could meet, in my present position, unless I had at my
+back a rich and generous friend. I have that friend in Adolph, who knows
+everything; I have concealed nothing from him; his indignation against
+our enemies, and his sympathy for ourselves, are unbounded. He has
+supplied me with ample means, not caring, he says, whether the money is
+ever repaid. After all, my dear, there is more light than shadow in the
+world.
+
+  "With my dearest love, for ever yours,
+  "FREDERICK."
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+THE NEW TENANT TAKES POSSESSION OF NO. 119 GREAT PORTER SQUARE.
+
+
+An hour before midnight of the day on which No. 119 Great Porter Square
+was let to a new tenant, a man dressed in plain clothes walked leisurely
+round the Square in a quiet and secretly-watchful manner. Rain was
+falling, and there were but few persons about, but, although the man
+spoke to none, he appeared to take an interest in all, scrutinising them
+closely with keen, observant eyes. Between him and the policemen he met
+in his circuitous wanderings a kind of freemasonry evidently existed.
+Once or twice he asked, under his breath, without stopping:
+
+"All right?"
+
+And received in answer the same words, spoken rapidly and in a low tone:
+
+"All right!"
+
+No other words were exchanged.
+
+As the church bells chimed eleven, Richard Manx entered Mrs. Preedy's
+house, No. 118, letting himself in with his latch-key. He passed the man
+who was walking round the Square, but took no notice of him. As he stood
+at the street door, searching in his pocket for his latch-key, the man
+passed the house, and did not even raise his eyes to Richard Manx's
+face. The presumption was that they were utterly indifferent to each
+other; but presumptive evidence is as often wrong as right, and between
+the actions of these two men, strangers to each other, existed a strong
+link which boded ill to one of them. At a quarter past eleven Mrs.
+Preedy, somewhat later than her wont, bustled out of her house for her
+nightly gossip with Mrs. Beale. By this time the rain was coming down
+faster, and when Mrs. Preedy disappeared, Great Porter Square may be
+said to have been deserted, with the exception of the one man who had
+been walking there for an hour, and the policeman sauntering at the
+corner. The man now paused before Mrs. Preedy's house, and knocked
+softly at the door. Becky's sharp ears caught the sound, soft as it was,
+and she ascended from the basement, and inquired who was there. The
+answer was:
+
+"A friend."
+
+Becky opened the door, and peered out, but it was too dark for her to
+recognise the man's face.
+
+"It's all right, Miss," said the man, "I've been here before. I brought
+a packet and a letter to you from Mr. Frederick. He sent me here now."
+
+"How am I to know that?" asked Becky.
+
+The man smiled in approval, and handed Becky an envelope addressed to
+herself. She retreated into the passage, and while the man remained upon
+the doorstep, she opened the envelope and stooped down. There was a
+candle on the floor which she had brought up from the kitchen, and by
+its light she read the few words written on the note paper.
+
+  "The man who gives you this is the detective I mentioned in my letter
+  this morning. Trust him and attend to his instructions.--FREDERICK."
+
+Becky returned to the detective and said:
+
+"I know you now. What do you want me to do?"
+
+"Is there any chance of Richard Manx hearing us?" asked the detective.
+
+Becky, placing her fingers to her lips went to the basement stairs and
+called:
+
+"Fanny!"
+
+The child appeared immediately, and Becky whispered in her ear for a few
+moments. Fanny nodded, and crept softly upstairs in the direction of the
+garret occupied by Richard Manx.
+
+"We are safe," said Becky to the detective. "Richard Manx cannot hear
+what we say. Fanny is keeping watch on him."
+
+"Fanny's a clever little thing," said the detective admiringly; "I'd
+like a daughter with her wits. Now, Miss, keep in your mind what I am
+going to tell you--not that there's any need for me to say that. You are
+working for Mr. Frederick, as I am, and others with me. A watch is going
+to be set outside this house--and if it's done as well as the watch
+you've kept inside the house, we shan't have any reason to grumble. In
+what room does the old bedridden lady, Mrs. Bailey sleep?"
+
+"In the first floor back," replied Becky.
+
+"Is the first floor front open? Can you get into the room?"
+
+"Yes, I have the key."
+
+"That's the room, isn't it?" said the detective, stepping back and
+looking up. "There's a balcony before the window."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Does the window open easily?"
+
+"I don't know; I have never tried."
+
+"Would you oblige me by stepping upstairs and trying now? And it will
+save trouble if you leave the window open. Be as quiet as you can, so
+as not to alarm Richard Manx. I'll keep outside the street door while
+you're gone."
+
+Becky went softly into the kitchen for the key of the first floor front,
+and then went upstairs and opened the door. She might have been a
+shadow, she glided about so noiselessly. The window was not easy to
+open, but she succeeded in raising the sash almost without a sound.
+
+"It is done," she said, as she stood before the detective once more.
+
+"I'd like to have another daughter," said he, in a tone of approval,
+"with wits as sharp as yours. I believe Mr. Frederick was right when he
+told me there was not your equal. Now, something's going to be done
+that will take about a quarter-of-an-hour to do, and we want to be sure
+during that quarter-of-an-hour that Richard Manx is not up to any of his
+little games. You understand me--we want to be sure that he is in his
+garret, smoking his pipe, or saying his prayers, or reading a good book.
+You and Fanny between you can do that part of the business for us--I
+leave you to manage how. I wouldn't presume to dictate to _you_. If ever
+you've a mind to give lessons in _my_ way of business, you may count on
+me as a pupil."
+
+"We can do what you ask," said Becky; "but how are we to let you know?"
+
+"There's the window of the first floor front open. If Richard Manx is
+safe in his room, let fly a bit of newspaper out of the window--I shall
+see it, and know what it means. If there's danger--if at any time within
+a quarter-of-an-hour of the newspaper flying out of the window, Richard
+Manx is up to any of his games, such as going out of his room through
+the ceiling instead of through the door, or prowling about the roof when
+he ought to be in bed--throw one of these little balls of red worsted
+out of the window. That will be a danger signal, and we shall know what
+to do."
+
+"May I ask you one question?"
+
+"A dozen if you like--but I won't promise to answer them."
+
+"I think you may answer this one. Is the gentleman who employs you
+taking an active part in what is going to be done?"
+
+"He is, Miss."
+
+"Then he is near here!" exclaimed Becky. She could not restrain herself
+from looking this way and that through the darkness, but she saw nothing
+but shadows. Not a human being except the man beside her was visible
+to her sight. "O, if I could see him only for a moment!" she murmured
+softly, but not so softly that the detective did not hear the words.
+
+"Best not, Miss," he said; "I've known the finest schemes upset just in
+the same way. There's only one thing to be thought of--when that's done,
+the time is all before you."
+
+"You are right, I feel," said Becky, with a sigh. "I'll go in now, and
+do what you want."
+
+The detective stepped on to the pavement, and when the street door was
+closed, stationed himself by the railings of the parody of a garden
+which occupied the centre of the Square. He kept his eyes fixed on the
+first floor window until he saw fluttering from it a piece of newspaper.
+His professional instinct caused him to pick this piece of paper from
+the ground, so that it should not fall into the hands of an enemy; then
+he took from his pocket a pocket-handkerchief and waved it in the air.
+During his conversation with Becky, and up to this moment, his movements
+had not been disturbed, and no man or woman had appeared in the Square;
+but now, in answer to his signal, a man made his way towards him.
+
+"All's well," said the detective; "get in as quickly as you can."
+
+The man did not reply; accompanied by the detective, he walked up to the
+house in which the murder had been committed, and inserted the key in
+the street door. The lock was rusty, and he could not turn the key.
+
+"I thought of that," said the detective; "take the key out, sir."
+
+Producing a small bottle of oil and a feather, he oiled the wards of
+the lock, without allowing his attention to be distracted from his
+observation of the first floor windows of Mrs. Preedy's house; he then
+rubbed a little oil into the wards of the key, and putting it in, turned
+the lock. The door of No. 119 was open to receive the new tenant.
+
+"A word, sir," said the detective; "there's no danger at present.
+Nothing can come within fifty yards of us without my being warned of it.
+Are you quite determined to pass these two nights in the house alone?"
+
+"I am quite determined--this night and to-morrow night, and as many more
+as may be necessary."
+
+"I've got a man handy--a man you can trust, sir."
+
+"I require no one."
+
+"Very good, sir. Don't forget the whistle if you require help. There'll
+be no danger in the day; it's the night you'll have to be careful of.
+At one o'clock in the morning you'll find the basket lowered into the
+area."
+
+"That is well; but you had best remain on the spot for a few moments
+till I see if I can get into the area."
+
+He went into the deserted house, and shut himself in. Before he took a
+step inwards he sat on the floor, and pulled off his boots, and with
+these in his hands rose, and groped towards the basement stairs.
+Downstairs he crept in his stocking feet, and, after listening for a
+moment or two, obtained a light from a noiseless match, and lighted the
+lamp in a policeman's lantern. By its aid he found his way through a
+small door, which he opened with difficulty, into the area. He looked
+up, and was instantly accosted by the detective.
+
+"There is no difficulty in the way," he said. "Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Thus it was that Frederick Holdfast, the new tenant, took possession of
+the house in which his father had been foully murdered.
+
+Silently he re-entered the kitchen, closing behind him the door which
+led into the area. The place was damp and cold, but his agitation was
+so intense that he was oblivious of personal discomfort. Even when the
+rats ran over his stocking feet he was not startled. He had brought a
+bundle in with him, which he placed upon the table and unpacked. It
+contained food and wine, but not sufficient for the time he intended to
+remain in the house. This was to be supplied to him in the basket which
+the detective promised to lower into the area in a couple of hours.
+In his breast pocket was a revolver, which he examined carefully. So
+cautious was he in his proceedings that, before he unpacked his food and
+examined his revolver, he blocked the stairs which led from the kitchen
+to the ground floor by chairs, the removing or scattering of which would
+have warned him that he was not the only person in the house.
+
+Presently he nerved himself to undertake a task which sent thrills of
+horror through his veins, which brought tears of anguish to his eyes,
+and sighs of pity and grief to his lips. He opened the door of the
+servant's bedroom, a cupboard as small as that which Becky occupied
+in the next house; he tracked with his eyes the direction which a
+mortally-wounded man would take from the kitchen door to the door
+of this miserable bedroom. He followed the track, examining it with
+agonised care, and knelt down before the stains of blood which marked
+the spot upon which his murdered father had fallen in his death agony.
+Time had not worn away the stains, and Frederick's suffering and
+sympathy made them clearer to his sight than they could possibly have
+been to the sight of any other living being. For a long time he remained
+kneeling by this fatal, palpable, indelible shadow--remained as if in
+prayer, and overpowering self-communing. And, indeed, during the time
+he so knelt, with this shadow of his father's body in his eyes, and
+weighing as an actual weight upon his heart, causing him to breathe
+thickly and in short hurried gasps, dim pictures of his childhood passed
+before him, in every one of which his father appeared in an affectionate
+and loving guise. And all the while these sweeter presentments were
+visible to his inner sight, his father dead, with the blood oozing
+from his fatal wounds, lay before him with horrible distinctness. When
+he rose, and moved a few paces off, not only the shadow but the very
+outlines of a physical form seemed to be lying at his feet. The dying
+face was raised to his, the dim eyes looked into his, the limbs
+trembled, the overcharged breast heaved; and when, after closing his
+eyes and opening them again, he compelled himself, because of the actual
+duty before him, to believe that it was but the trick of a sympathetic
+imagination, he could not rid himself of the fancy that his father's
+spirit was hovering over him, and would never leave him until his task
+was accomplished.
+
+He tracked the fatal stains out of the kitchen, and up the stairs to the
+passage to the street door, and noted the stains upon the balustrade, to
+which his father had clung as he staggered to his death. As he stood in
+the passage he fancied he heard a stifled movement in one of the rooms
+above. Hastily he shut out the light of his lamp, and stood in deep
+darkness, listening for a repetition of the sound. It did not reach
+him, but as he leant forward, with his head inclined, and his hand upon
+his revolver, the church clock proclaimed the hour of midnight. Clear,
+strong and deep, and fraught with unspeakable solemnity, the bell tolled
+the hour which marks the tragedy and the sorrow of life. Shadows and
+pictures of sad experiences, and of pathetic and tragic events, which
+were not in any way connected with him, crowded upon his mind. It
+appeared as if the records of years were brought before him in every
+fresh tolling of the bell, and when the echo of the last peal died away,
+a weight which had grown well nigh intolerable was lifted from his soul.
+Then, his thoughts recurring to the sound which he had fancied he heard
+in the room above, he mentally asked himself whether the murderer had
+paused to listen to the tolling of the midnight hour, and whether any
+premonition of the fate in store for him had dawned upon his guilty
+mind?
+
+For awhile nothing further disturbed him. Lying upon the stairs for
+fully five minutes, he convinced himself that as yet no other human
+being but himself was in the house. Turning the light of his lantern on
+again, he continued his examination of his father's last movements up
+the stairs to the first floor. No need for him to doubt which was the
+room his father had occupied. The stains of blood led him to the very
+door, and here again he shut out the light of his lamp, and listened and
+looked before he ventured to place his hand upon the handle. Silence
+reigned; no glimmer of light was observable through the chinks and
+crevices of the door. Still in darkness, he turned the handle and
+entered the room. He had disturbed no one; he was alone.
+
+Cautiously he let in the light, but not to its full capacity. An amazing
+sight greeted him.
+
+None of the furniture in the house had been removed, and everything his
+father had used during his fatal tenancy was in the room. The piano, the
+table at which he sat and wrote, the chairs, the bed, were there--but
+not in the condition in which they had been left. A demon of destruction
+appeared to have been at work. The bed was ripped open, the paper had
+been stripped from the walls, the coverings of the chairs were torn off,
+and the chairs themselves broken to pieces, the table was turned on
+end, the interior of the piano had been ransacked, the very keys were
+wrenched away--in the desperate attempt to discover some hidden thing,
+some hidden document upon which life and death might hang. More than
+this. The carpet had been taken up, and a few of the boards of the floor
+had been wrenched away, and the dust beneath searched amongst. But this
+was recent work; the greater part of the room was still boarded over.
+
+Frederick Holdfast had no intention himself of immediately commencing a
+search; he knew that it would be dangerous. For a certainty Richard
+Manx intended to continue it without delay, and was only waiting for
+a favourable opportunity to leave his attic. This thought induced
+Frederick to consider in what way he could best watch the villain's
+movements, without being himself detected. To do this in the room itself
+was impossible. There was no chance by the window; it could be done only
+from the ceiling or from the adjoining room. To effect an opening in the
+ceiling in so short a time as he had at his disposal was impracticable,
+and even could it be done, there were dangerous chances of detection.
+After a little reflection, he decided that it could be best done from
+the adjoining room, and the moment this was decided upon he saw that
+Richard Manx had to some extent assisted him. The laths which separated
+the rooms were fragile, the plaster was thinly spread; many of the laths
+in the dividing wall had been laid bare by the stripping of the paper.
+He stood up on the bed, and without an appreciable effort, thrust his
+finger between the laths, and through the wall paper of the adjoining
+apartment, choosing that part of the wall which would afford him a
+favourable point of espionage. Alighting from the bed, he carefully
+obliterated the marks of footsteps on the clothes, and then left the
+room for the one adjoining. The door was unlocked, and the key was in
+the inside. More from the locality than from the aperture, so securely
+small had he made it, he saw at once that it was practicable, and he
+ascertained by moving the table close to the wall, that a safe footing
+was afforded for his watch. This contented him, and for a time he
+rested.
+
+There were still no signs of Richard Manx. One o'clock had struck, and
+remembering that at that hour the basket of food was to be lowered into
+the area, he hastened downstairs, and arrived just in time to receive
+it.
+
+"Everything is quiet here," said the detective, in a hoarse whisper. "Is
+our friend at work?" meaning by "our friend," Richard Manx.
+
+"No," replied Frederick.
+
+"Ah, he will be presently," said the detective; "he doesn't commence
+till he thinks everybody's asleep, and Mrs. Preedy has only been home
+for about ten minutes. She's as fond of a gossip as a cat is of mice.
+She's had an extra glass, I think. Are you quite comfortable, sir?"
+
+"Quite," said Frederick, and put an end to the conversation by wishing
+the detective good night.
+
+"He's a plucky one," mused the detective, as he resumed his watch; "but
+he's working for a prize worth winning."
+
+The food in the basket was sufficient for one man's wants for nearly a
+week, and Frederick, partaking of a little, went softly upstairs to the
+drawing room. He took the precaution of locking the door, and, mounting
+the table, waited for events.
+
+He had not long to wait. At half-past one Richard Manx entered the room
+in which Mr. Holdfast had been murdered.
+
+Frederick did not instantly recognise him, his disguise was so perfect,
+but when he removed his wig, the watcher saw his enemy, Pelham, before
+him.
+
+The wronged and persecuted man had schooled himself well. Though his
+heart beat furiously and his blood grew hot, he suffered no sound to
+escape him. He had fully made up his mind, in the event of Richard Manx
+discovering a document, to steal upon him unaware, and wrest it from
+him. He did not doubt his power to do as much; in physical strength he
+was the match of three such men as Pelham. His chief anxiety, in the
+event of anything being discovered, was that it should not be destroyed.
+
+Richard Manx used no precaution in the method of entering the room,
+except that he placed his candle upon the floor in such a way that its
+reflection could not reach the window, which opened at the back of the
+house. This lack of precaution was in itself a sufficient proof that his
+search had been long continued, and was a proof also that he considered
+himself safe in the deserted house.
+
+He was evidently in a discontented mood; he looked around the room
+sullenly and savagely, but in this expression Frederick detected a
+certain helplessness and fear which denoted that he was ill at ease.
+That he was growing tired of his task was clear, for he resumed it
+with an impatience and a want of system which might have prevented
+its successful accomplishment, even if he were on the threshold
+of discovery. Frederick, from his point of observation, had an
+uninterrupted view of his proceedings. He had brought with him a
+quantity of tools, and by the aid of these he set to work removing the
+flooring boards, with but little noise, one after another, searching
+eagerly in the rubbish beneath. With no success, however. Every now and
+then, as though tired of this part of his search, he rose, and examined
+the furniture in the room, suspicious that some hiding place might have
+escaped him. He muttered as he worked, but for a time his mutterings did
+not reach Frederick's ears. After more than an hour's labour, he took
+from a cupboard a bottle of spirits and a glass, and helped himself
+liberally. Then, dirty and begrimed as he was, and with beads of
+perspiration on his face, he sat down and consulted a pocket book, in
+which he added up a number of figures. "Five hundred," he said in a low
+tone, "seven-fifty, eight hundred, a thousand, twelve hundred, fourteen
+hundred and twenty." He came to the end of his reckoning, and glared at
+the figures as at a mortal enemy. Then from the same pocket-book he took
+out a packet of bank notes, and counted them over till he reached the
+total, fourteen hundred and twenty. Frederick held the true key to these
+proceedings. The sum of fourteen hundred and twenty pounds represented
+the whole of Mr. Pelham's wealth, the payment and reward of a life of
+villainy, and perhaps of blood.
+
+"It must be somewhere," muttered the man, replacing the book in his
+pocket; "he wrote every day he was here. It was proved at the inquest.
+What has he done with his infernal scribble? If it is found by a
+stranger, and we are in the country, it will be death to us. Devil!
+devil! devil!" and he struck at the table in his passion, and then,
+alarmed at the sound, glared round with a terror-stricken face, with the
+air of a criminal overtaken by justice.
+
+His fears allayed, he worked on again at the boards of the floor, making
+but slow progress. Three o'clock struck, and still he continued his
+work, and still was watched by the son of the murdered man. Half-past
+three--four--half-past four; and Richard Manx rose from his knees, and
+gave up his task for the night. Many times during his search had he
+drank from the bottle of spirits, but what he drank appeared to affect
+him only through his tongue, which became more loquacious and less
+guarded. Once more he counted his bank-notes, grudgingly, greedily, and
+muttered:
+
+"She shall give me five hundred to-day--this very morning; that will
+make nineteen hundred and twenty--say eighteen hundred clear, to break
+the bank at Monaco. If she likes to come with me, she can. I am sick of
+this game; there's too much to lose. To-morrow night shall be my last
+night here. I have searched every inch of this cursed room, and I throw
+it up. It is a slave's work, not a gentleman's." He certainly looked
+as little like a gentleman as any human being could, and his words
+proclaimed the utter villainy of his nature. "There's too much danger in
+it," he continued. "If the police were to take it in their heads to make
+another examination of this house, or if that weak idiot, Frederick
+Holdfast, were to turn up, I should find myself in the hole. And _she_
+should, too; I'd make her suffer with me. A nice reward for all my
+scheming in America! Well, it kept them apart--I can count that to my
+credit. But for me, the old dotard and Frederick must have met. I owed
+him one for the part he played in the Sydney Campbell affair in
+Oxford--I owed him one, and I have paid it. And if I had him here, I'd
+serve him as I served--" He did not conclude his sentence; a sudden
+terror seized him, and he shook like a man in an ague. "I could have
+sworn I heard a voice," he muttered. "Hush!" For a few moments he did
+not move; his feet were transfixed to the ground. By a strong effort he
+recovered himself, and a ghastly smile disfigured his face. "To-morrow
+night shall be the last," he said! "I swear it! I'll commence to enjoy
+my life again. This is not the only country in the world." And, shading
+the light of his candle with his hand, he left the room.
+
+Frederick Holdfast did not move from his post till he had given Richard
+Manx ample time to reach his garret in the next house. Then he descended
+with difficulty, for his limbs were cramped. As he stepped from the
+table to the ground his foot slipped, and the table overbalanced, fell
+with a crash on its side. He congratulated himself upon his forethought
+in waiting till Richard Manx was out of hearing, but not knowing what
+might be the consequences of the noise--for it might have disturbed the
+inmates of either, or of both, the adjoining houses--he unlocked the
+door, and made his way as quickly as he could, consistent with necessary
+caution, to the basement, where in the course of another hour he sought
+a little rest, with his revolver firmly clenched in his hand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+MRS. HOLDFAST INSISTS UPON BECOMING AN ACTIVE PARTNER.
+
+
+The following night--the night which Mr. Pelham had sworn should be
+the last of his search, and the last upon which he would continue his
+disguise as Richard Manx--this accomplished villain carried out his
+intention of coming home to his garret in Mrs. Preedy's house much
+earlier than usual. In fact, it was not more than half-past eight as he
+turned one of the streets which branched into Great Porter Square. He
+was in good spirits, despite that the night was as wretched and gloomy
+as the most despondent mortal could maliciously--out of hatred for his
+species--have desired. All day long the rain had continued without
+intermission; the thoroughfares were in a deplorable condition of mud
+and slush, and those persons whose avocations did not compel them to
+be out in the streets, gladly availed themselves of the comforts of a
+fireside at home. These are not the occasions, especially in a city so
+crowded and selfish as London, when people are in the mood to be amiable
+and obliging, and it was therefore the more remarkable that Richard
+Manx, by no means a gracious being as a rule, should have walked to
+his lodgings in a glad and pleasant frame of mind. The fact was, good
+fortune had smiled upon him. He had had a long interview with Mrs.
+Holdfast, who on this very day had come into possession of a large sum
+of money, realised from certain of her late husband's securities--shares
+in railway companies which had been delivered to her, as his sole heir
+and executrix. It was, indeed, no less a sum than twelve thousand
+pounds, and of this she had, in compliance with Mr. Pelham's urgent
+demands, given him a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds, the exact sum,
+as he declared, necessary to clear himself from pressing debts and
+liabilities. This cheque he had forthwith converted into Bank of England
+notes, and they were safe in his pocket, with his other savings, with
+which he intended to make a large fortune at Monaco. Mrs. Holdfast had
+also consented to sell off her London house, and accompany him on a tour
+of pleasure. She, as well as he, was tired of the humdrum days; she
+sighed for excitement and adventure; the pleasure grounds of Europe
+were open to her, and now that she was a widow, and still young and
+beautiful, and now that the terrible anxieties of the past twelve months
+were at an end, she determined to enjoy her life as such a pretty woman
+should. There was another reason why she wished to get away from London,
+and indeed from England altogether, for a while. Since little Fanny had
+accosted her by the name of Grace, she did not feel herself safe. There
+was danger in the mere utterance of the name, and there was security in
+absence from spots in which other persons, more cunning than a simple
+child like Fanny, might by some chance recognise her. She thought it
+would be as well to take the child with her; Fanny was a bright, clever
+little creature, and might prove useful, and if she got tired of her, it
+would be easy to lose her on the Continent, or place her in a situation
+where her babbling, if she were inclined to babble, could do no harm.
+
+Mr. Pelham had visited her at noon in a spirit the reverse of that in
+which he left her. She had been most amiable and vivacious, and fell in
+joyfully with his plans, when he had expected her to be obstinate and
+ill-tempered, and inclined to thwart him. Then, he had intended to ask
+her for a cheque for five hundred pounds, and improving the opportunity,
+had obtained fifteen hundred. No wonder that he sang a little song to
+himself as he turned into Great Porter Square. Had a beggar solicited
+charity from him he might have obtained a small piece of silver, but
+it is the misfortune of human affairs that fitting opposites are
+rarely brought into fortunate conjunction, and the beggar not being
+forthcoming, Richard Manx's charitable spell had no opportunity of
+airing itself. He was within a few doors of his lodging-house when a
+woman, who had walked quickly after him, and was out of breath with the
+exertion, laid her hand on his arm, and wished him good evening.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+MRS. HOLDFAST INSISTS UPON BECOMING AN ACTIVE PARTNER--(CONTINUED).
+
+
+Richard Manx, as a man of gallantry, was generally ready for any
+adventure with the fair sex which offered itself, but on the present
+occasion, despite his disposition to be amiable, he shrank within
+himself at being thus suddenly accosted. The intrusion of an unexpected
+voice--which at the moment he did not recognise--upon his thoughts awoke
+him to a sense of danger. He therefore walked on without replying,
+shaking the woman's hand from his arm; but was almost immediately
+brought to a standstill by the sound of the woman's steps hurrying after
+him.
+
+She wore a cloak, with a hood to it, which was thrown over her head; in
+her haste the hood fell back, and her fair face, no longer hidden, shone
+out from masses of light hair, in the disorder of which was a certain
+picturesqueness which heightened the effect of her beauty. As her hood
+fell back, Richard Manx turned and recognised her.
+
+It was Mrs. Holdfast, the widow of the murdered man.
+
+He uttered an exclamation of alarm, and with a frightened look around,
+pulled the hood over her head to hide her face.
+
+"You mad woman!" he exclaimed; "do you want to ruin us? What brings you
+here?" Then a sudden thought drove all the blood from his face. "Has
+anything happened?" he asked, in a whisper.
+
+She laughed at his agitation. "Nothing has happened," she replied,
+"except that I am worn out with sameness."
+
+"Then what in the devil's name brings you here?" he asked again.
+
+"For shame, Pelham," she said, lightly, "to be so rude to a lady! What
+brings me here? I have told you. I am worn out with sameness. Sitting
+down with nothing to do, without excitement, in a house as dull and
+quiet as a doll's cradle, doesn't suit me. I was not cut out for that
+sort of life!"
+
+"You could have waited a little," he grumbled, somewhat reconciled to
+find that they were not being observed; "you were sure of another sort
+of life presently."
+
+"I'll have it, thought I to myself, without waiting," she said,
+recklessly, "and I feel better already. Running away from my doll's
+cradle without preparation, with an idea in my head I am going to carry
+out, has put new life into me. My blood isn't creeping through my veins;
+it is dancing, and I am alive once more. Really now I feel as if I
+should like to waltz with you round the Square!"
+
+"Are you quite mad?" he cried, holding her still by force, but unable to
+refrain from admiration of her wild flow of spirits. "We have but a few
+hours to wait. Can't you content yourself for a little while? What is
+this insane idea of yours which you are going to carry out!"
+
+"To spend the evening with you, my dear," she replied gaily.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"In Great Porter Square. Where else?"
+
+While this conversation was proceeding, he had led her in an opposite
+direction from the house in which he lodged, and they were now on the
+other side of the Square.
+
+"Now I am sure you are mad," he said. "Do you know what I have to do
+to-night?"
+
+"No," she replied, "and I am curious to know."
+
+"I keep it to myself; but you will hear of it, and when you do you will
+laugh. Shall I leave behind me a danger hanging over my head--and yours?
+A secret that one day may be discovered, and bring ruin and death to
+me--and you? No, no; they make a mistake in the mettle of Dick Pelham
+if they think he is going to leave a trap-door open for himself to fall
+into."
+
+"I should fall also, Pelham!" she said half-questioningly.
+
+"Why, yes; you would come down with me. It couldn't be helped, I fear.
+I have a kind of dog-in-the-manger feeling for you. If I can't have you
+myself, I'll not leave you to another man."
+
+"It _can't_ be helped, I suppose," she said, shrugging her shoulders;
+"but it doesn't matter to me so long as I am enjoying myself."
+
+"Very well, then," said he, in a decided tone; "go home now, and get
+your trinkets and dresses in order, for by to-day week we'll be out of
+this dull hole. We'll live where the sun shines for the future. Hurry
+now, and off with you. I have a serious night's work before me."
+
+"I will help you in it," she said, in a tone as decided as his own. "It
+isn't a bit of use bullying, Pelham. I've made up my mind. I haven't
+seen your room in No. 118, and I intend to see it. I have a right to,
+haven't I? The wonder is I have kept away so long; and this is the last
+night I shall have the chance. I was curious before, but I'm a thousand
+times more curious now, and if you were to talk all night you wouldn't
+put me off. You are going to do something bold--all the better; I'll be
+there to see, and I dare say I can be of assistance to you. We are in
+partnership, and I insist upon being an active partner. How do I know
+but that you have been deceiving me all this while?"
+
+"In what way?" he demanded fiercely.
+
+"I will make sure," she said, "that you haven't a pretty girl hidden
+in that garret of yours, and that you don't want to run away with her
+instead of me?"
+
+"Jealous!" he cried, with a gratified laugh; "after telling me a dozen
+times lately that you hated the sight of me!"
+
+"That's a woman's privilege. If you don't understand us by this time, it
+is too late for you to begin to learn. Pelham, I am coming up with you."
+
+"You are determined?"
+
+"As ever a woman was in this world. If you run from me now, and enter
+the house without me, I'll follow you, and knock at the door, and
+inquire for Mr. Richard Manx; and if they ask me who I am, I'll say I
+am _Mrs._ Richard Manx."
+
+"I believe you would," he said, looking down into her face, and not
+knowing whether to feel angry or pleased.
+
+"I would, as truly as I am a woman."
+
+"There's no help for it, then," he said; "but I don't know how to get
+you into the house without being observed."
+
+"Nothing easier. All the time we've been talking I haven't seen
+half-a-dozen people. Choose a moment when nobody's about; open the door
+quickly, and I'll slip in like an eel. Before you shut the door, I'll be
+at the top of the house."
+
+"Let me warn you once more; there is danger."
+
+"All the better; there's excitement in danger."
+
+"And if I don't find what I've been hunting for these weeks past, I
+intend to carry out a desperate design, which if successful--and it
+must be; I'll make it so--will place us in a position of perfect
+safety."
+
+"Bravo, Pelham; I never thought you had so much pluck. I will help
+you in everything you have to do. Now let us get into the house. I am
+drenched through. You can make a fire, I suppose."
+
+He cautioned and instructed her how to proceed, and they walked to
+No. 118, he leading, and she but a step or two behind. Seeing no person
+near, he opened the door with one turn of the key, and she glided
+rapidly past him, and was on the stairs, and really nearly at the top of
+the house, feeling her way along the balustrades, before he was up the
+first flight. Safely within the miserable room he had hired, he turned
+the key, and lighted a candle; then, pointing to wood and coals, he
+motioned her to make a fire. The stove was so small she could not help
+laughing at it, but he whispered to her savagely to stop her merriment,
+and not to utter a sound that could be heard outside the room. The fire
+lighted, she sat before it, and dried her clothes as well as she could,
+while he busied himself about the room. Then he sat down by her side,
+and explained his plans. As long as suspicion could be averted from
+them, and as long as they were sure that no document written by Mr.
+Holdfast between the date of his taking lodgings in No. 119 Great Porter
+Square, and the date of his death, could be produced against them--so
+long were they safe. Suspicion was averted from them, as they believed,
+and they had every reason to believe that the murder would take its
+place, nay, had already taken its place, upon the list of monstrous
+crimes, the mystery of which would never be brought to light. Their only
+danger, then, lay in the probable discovery of the supposed document for
+which Pelham, as Richard Manx, had so long been searching. From what had
+been made known by the press and the police of Mr. Holdfast's movements
+after his taking up his residence in No. 119, and from what they
+themselves knew, it was almost impossible that such a document, if it
+had existence, could have been taken out of the house. Pelham had sought
+for it unsuccessfully. What then, remained to be done for safety? To set
+fire to the house in which it was hidden, to burn it to the ground, and
+thus blot out from existence all knowledge of their crime.
+
+This was Pelham's desperate plan, and this deed it was he intended to
+perpetrate to-night. For a few hours longer he would search the room in
+which Mr. Holdfast was murdered, and then, everything being prepared to
+prevent failure, he would fire the house, and in the confusion make his
+escape, and disappear for ever from the neighbourhood. Mrs. Holdfast's
+unexpected appearance on the scene complicated matters--the chief
+difficulty being how to get her away, during the confusion produced by
+the fire, without being observed. But when, unwillingly, he had given
+an enforced consent to her wild whim of keeping in his company on this
+eventful night, he had thought of a way to overcome the difficulty. In
+her woman's dress, and with her attractive face, he could scarcely hope
+that she would escape observation; but he had in his room a spare suit
+of his own clothes, in which she could disguise herself, and with her
+face and hands blackened, and her hair securely fastened and hidden
+beneath a soft felt wideawake hat which hung in his garret, he had no
+fear that she would be discovered.
+
+She entered into his plans with eagerness, and the adventure in which
+she was engaged imparted a heightened colour to her face and a deeper
+brilliancy to her eyes. As she leant towards the fire, with the
+reflection of its ruddy glow in her features, an uninformed man, gazing
+at her only for a moment, would have carried away with him a picture
+of beauty and innocence so enduring that his thoughts would often have
+wandered to it.
+
+"Here are your clothes," said Pelham; "when we are ready I will mount to
+the roof, and wait till you are dressed. Then I will come and assist you
+up. I have two or three journeys to make to the next house before we
+re-commence the search. See what I have here."
+
+He unlocked the box in the corner which Becky had vainly tried to
+open, and took from it a tin can filled with pitch, two small cans of
+inflammable oil, and a packet of gunpowder.
+
+"These will make the old place blaze," he said, laughing. "It will be a
+good job done if all Great Porter Square is burnt down. The landlady of
+this house ought to pay me a per-centage upon her insurance. The fire
+will be the making of her."
+
+"When do we begin?" asked Grace.
+
+"Sooner than usual," he replied. "At about half-past ten. The night is
+so bad that the Square will be pretty well deserted; and there is no one
+in this house to disturb us."
+
+He did not neglect the precaution of going to the door occasionally
+and listening, but he saw and heard nothing to alarm him. Exactly at
+half-past ten he bade Grace dress as quickly as possible in the suit of
+his clothes, and to disguise herself to the best of her ability. Her
+own woman's dress she was to tie up in a bundle and bring with her into
+the next house. He mounted to the roof, and she handed him the cans and
+the packet which were to ensure the destruction of No. 119. Then she
+proceeded to disguise herself.
+
+It was a task exactly to her taste. She took the greatest pleasure in
+making herself look as much as possible like a young man, and as she
+gazed at herself in the broken bit of looking-glass fastened to the
+wall, she said aloud,
+
+"Upon my word, Gracie, you make a very pretty boy!"
+
+She wore a great many trinkets, which she wrapped in paper, and put into
+her pockets, but the novelty of her disguise, and the inconvenient space
+in which she effected it, caused her to drop two of these, a ring and an
+earring, and although she searched the floor carefully, she could not
+find them. Her hair she twisted into a tight knot at the top of her
+head, and the wideawake completely covered it. Richard Manx made his
+appearance at the trap-door above, and asked if she was ready. She
+answered that she was, and he assisted her up, lifting her, indeed,
+almost bodily from the chairs upon which she stood.
+
+"What a little lump of weakness you are!" he exclaimed. "You can't weigh
+above a hundred pounds."
+
+Carefully he led her over the roof, and down the trap-door, into
+the next house. Standing in the dark with him in the garret of this
+tenement, he felt that she trembled.
+
+"If you are going to show the white feather," he whispered, "you had
+better turn back. There is time even now."
+
+Little did she imagine how much hung upon the opportunity offered her.
+She refused it, saying that she had experienced a slight chill, and
+that she would go on; so he led her, white-faced now and shaking in
+every limb, down the stairs to the room in which her husband had been
+murdered.
+
+Its appearance, while it bewildered, afforded her relief. Had it been in
+order, as she had seen it when her husband had occupied it, she could
+not have controlled her agitation; but it was so torn up, the work of
+destruction had been so wanton, that she could scarcely recognise it as
+the same room.
+
+"Have you any brandy, Pelham?" she asked, careful, as he had directed
+her, not to raise her voice.
+
+He had a bottle with him, and he gave her some in a glass, upon which
+her courage returned, and she shook her head defiantly, as much as to
+say, "Who cares?"
+
+"I haven't been idle, you see," said Pelham, pointing around. "Amuse
+yourself while I do what is necessary."
+
+What was "necessary" was the villainous work of scattering the gunpowder
+about, disposing of the pitch, and pouring the oil upon the walls and
+flooring of the passage. At the conclusion of this part of his scheme
+there was still a great deal of inflammable material left, and these
+he placed aside, the pitch and the oil in the tins, and the gunpowder,
+loose, in its paper packet, in the room in which he was at work.
+
+"Are you sure there is no one but ourselves in the house?" asked Grace.
+
+"Listen for yourself," replied Pelham. "If you like you can go
+downstairs and look. I'll ensure you against anything but ghosts and
+fire."
+
+She shuddered, and, to divert her thoughts, endeavoured to take a
+practical interest in the search for the hidden document. It was
+difficult, in the state of the room, to move about, and she soon grew
+wearied. She threw herself upon the bed, and longed impatiently for the
+time when the crowning touch would be given to the wicked work in which
+she had insisted upon becoming an active partner.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+FREDERICK HOLDFAST MAKES THE DISCOVERY.
+
+
+Frederick Holdfast slept until late in the morning. Awaking, he looked
+at his watch, which marked the hour of eleven. He did not begrudge the
+time spent in sleep. It had refreshed and strengthened him, and he knew
+it would not be prudent on his part to work during the day in any room
+in which he would run the risk of being observed by the neighbours. He
+had not been disturbed; when he awoke his revolver was in his hand, and
+perfect stillness reigned throughout the house.
+
+In his state of mind inaction was a torture to him, and he could not
+content himself with sitting idly down. Imprisoned as it were, while
+daylight lasted, to the basement, into the rooms in which passers-by in
+the Square above could not peer, he resolved to examine carefully every
+inch of the floor and walls in the kitchen and passage. The shutters
+of the area-windows were closed, and darkness prevailed. His lantern,
+therefore, served him in as good stead by day as it had done by night;
+he trimmed the lamp carefully, and prepared for what he had no hope
+would be anything but a fruitless task. He only undertook it, indeed,
+for the purpose of occupying the time during which he was shut out from
+the upper part of the house, to the windows in which there were no
+shutters. It comforted him to think that his dear girl was within a
+short distance of him; a few inches of wall separated them, and they
+were thinking of each other, praying for each other.
+
+He commenced in the passage, tracking the marks of his father's dying
+steps upon the floor, and of his hands upon the walls. Inclined as he
+was to the closest examination, his attention was arrested by a slight
+scratch upon the wall, which he found repeated, both above and below,
+wherever his father had rested his hand for support in his descent to
+the kitchen. The scratch was very slight, and was not to be found upon
+any part of the wall which the dying man had not touched with his hand.
+The fading stains within which these scratches were observable appeared
+to have been made by a clenched hand; the marks of the knuckles could be
+traced. The inference Frederick Holdfast drew from these signs was that
+his father had a distinct motive in keeping his hand closed, and that
+the hand held something he wanted to deposit in safe keeping before life
+left his poor wounded body. It was for this reason, then, Frederick
+argued, following out the train of thought, as much as for any other,
+that the mortally-wounded man had, in his death-agony, made his way to
+the kitchen, where he believed the servant was asleep. In her hands he
+would place the treasure his clenched hand guarded, and, that supreme
+effort accomplished, he would then be content to die, comforted by the
+thought that he left behind him a clue by which the innocent might be
+saved and the guilty punished. What was this treasure which had been so
+carefully guarded by a man who had but a few moments to live? He had
+been unable to place it in the safe possession of a friend to justice.
+Had it been found by one whose interest it was to conceal it, or had
+it escaped all eyes, to be discovered by the son he had unwittingly
+wronged? This last surmise was scarcely needed by Frederick to prompt
+him to search in every unlikely nook and cranny in the passage and
+stairs; but when he raised the light to the kitchen door, and saw there
+the fatal hand-mark, and with it the almost imperceptible scratch
+repeated, he knew that he had wasted his time, and that whatever it was
+his father had held in his hand he had carried into the kitchen with
+him. To this room, therefore, he confined his search, and after being
+occupied in it for hours--until, indeed, he heard the church clock
+strike five--was about to give it up in despair, when his eyes fell upon
+what looked like a small piece of metal, firmly imbedded in a crevice
+of the floor. It had evidently been trodden into the crevice by heavy
+boots, and it was with difficulty Frederick dug it out. It proved to be
+a key, small enough for a drawer in a desk.
+
+Frederick immediately went into the passage to ascertain whether he was
+right in his idea that the scratches had been produced by this key, and
+holding it between his knuckles, as his father might have done, and
+placing his hand upon the wall, he was satisfied of its probability. It
+was not strange that an object so small had escaped the notice of the
+police or the people in the house. As the dying man fell to the ground,
+the key may have been struck out of his hand by the shock, and being at
+some distance from the body, had been trodden down into the crevice by
+the policeman's feet. After that, nothing but such a minute examination
+as Frederick had carried out could have brought it to light.
+
+Quick as his eager thought would allow him, Frederick followed his
+train of argument in logical sequence. It was this key which his father
+wished to place in the servant's hands before he died; it was this key
+which was to unravel the mystery of his life and death in No. 119
+Great Porter Square. The drawer of the desk which the key would unlock
+contained the record which would make all things clear. It had been
+in the house; the furniture had not been removed; it was still in the
+house. But not in the room occupied by his father. If it were there,
+Pelham would have been certain to have found it. In that room every lock
+had been forced, every scrap of paper examined. No!--The document had
+been placed in another room for safety. The murdered man, acquainted
+with the character of the persons who had brought disgrace upon him,
+had taken the precaution to secure his written thoughts and wishes from
+their prying eyes. Mr. Pelham was working on a wrong scent; his labour
+had been thrown away. Frederick knew, from the inquiries of the
+detective in his employ, that the adjoining room to that his father had
+occupied--the room from which he had, on the previous night, watched the
+proceedings of his father's murderer (for upon that point now Frederick
+was morally convinced)--had, during the last four days of his father's
+tenancy, been vacant. What more likely than that this very room
+contained a drawer which the key would fit?
+
+He trembled with eagerness, feeling that he was on the brink of
+discovery, and the shock of these mental revelations, which a few
+minutes would see verified, was so great that a faintness stole over
+his senses. Then he remembered that he had partaken of but little food
+during the day. He knew not what was before him in the night to come; he
+needed all his strength.
+
+He sat down resolutely, curbing his impatience, and ate and drank his
+fill. When he had finished his meal, he felt that he had acted well and
+with prudence. He was ready now for any emergency, equal to any effort.
+
+It was by this time dark, and he could move into the upper part of the
+house with comparative safety. All day long the rain had been plashing
+into the area with a dismal sound; the dreariness of the weather and the
+dreariness of the house would have daunted any man who had not a serious
+purpose to sustain him. Frederick had held no further communication with
+the detective; during the day it was impracticable. But it had been
+arranged between them that when night came, the detective, if he had
+anything of importance to communicate, should drop a letter into the
+area, of course at such time and in such a way as should afford no
+chance of detection. Before going upstairs with his precious key,
+Frederick cautiously opened the door which led into the area, and saw
+that a small packet of brown paper had been dropped during the day. He
+picked it up and opened it; there was a stone inside, and round the
+stone a sheet of note paper, on which was written, in the detective's
+handwriting:
+
+  "Mrs. H. has received to-day a large sum of money. Her friend, Mr.
+  P., was with her for nearly two hours. Upon leaving her house he
+  drove to the City and cashed a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds. He
+  was in high spirits. There is something in the wind; it looks as if
+  they are making preparations to flit. Mrs. H. is getting together as
+  much ready money as she can lay her hands on. I have no doubt she
+  and Mr. P. have arranged to-day to go away together. Nothing further
+  to say on that head. Your young lady friend in No. 118, Becky, is
+  quite safe, but she looks anxious. On your account, I guess. Her
+  little friend, Fanny, is a brick. We shall be on the watch all night
+  in the Square. If you are in want of help, use your whistle."
+
+Not being in want of help at present, Frederick destroyed the letter,
+and went upstairs to the first floor. Opening the door of the room
+his father had occupied, he saw that no person had entered it during
+the day; everything was as Pelham had left it early in the morning.
+Frederick, by the light of his lantern, looked around for drawer or
+desk. A chest of drawers was there, unlocked and empty; a desk also,
+which had been broken open, and which the key he had found would not
+fit. As he left the room he saw, lying in a corner of the wall, a large
+key. It was the key of his father's room. He put it in the lock, and it
+turned easily.
+
+"Pelham would be astonished to-night," he thought, "if, when he came, he
+found the door locked against him. But that would be putting him on his
+guard. I will open the trap for him instead of closing it. Murderer!
+Your hour is approaching!"
+
+He unlocked the door, and put the key in his pocket, with no distinct
+intention, but with an idea that it might in some way prove useful.
+When in his thought the unspoken words came to his mind, "I will
+open the trap for him instead of closing it," he had not the dimmest
+comprehension of their awful significance, or of the fearful manner in
+which they were to be verified.
+
+He entered the adjoining room in which he had kept his long and painful
+watch on the previous night. In the room was a sideboard, and to this he
+first directed his attention. The key he had found in the kitchen was
+too small for either of the sideboards, and as they were locked, he
+forced them open. There was nothing inside but some mouldy biscuits and
+a couple of old-fashioned decanters, with dregs of wine in them. He felt
+about for secret drawers, but found none. A cupboard next attracted his
+attention, and he searched it carefully. It contained plates and wine
+glasses, a shell box and a shell caddy, with views of Margate on them.
+Both were open, and he discovered nothing on the shelves which was
+likely to bring his search to a successful issue. Before proceeding
+further he thought--in case Pelham should take it into his head to
+commence his work early on this which he declared should be his last
+night in No. 119--it would be well to replace the table which had fallen
+over when he stepped from it. He raised it carefully and replaced it on
+its carved feet. It was a round table of Spanish mahogany, and was a
+contrast to the other furniture in the room, being old-fashioned and of
+ancient make. As he raised it, one of the lower surfaces upon which he
+placed his hand shifted slightly, and the thought flashed through his
+mind that there might be a drawer beneath. He stooped and looked upward,
+and saw that his impression was a correct one. A drawer was there,
+evidently intended as a secret drawer; it was locked. With trembling
+hands he tried the key. It fitted the lock, turned, and the drawer was
+open--and there, beneath his eyes, were some sheets of folio paper, upon
+which he recognised his dead father's handwriting.
+
+He drew forth the sheets and rapidly scanned them. They were in the
+form of a diary, and contained the record of his father's last days, or
+perhaps his last hours. Tears filled his eyes as he gazed at the beloved
+memorial of a dear one, from whose heart he had been torn by the foulest
+treachery. He dashed the tears away. No time now for grief; a sterner
+duty than that of mourning for the dead was before him. In his hands
+he held the vindication of his good name, and, he hoped, the means of
+bringing the guilty to punishment. He must to work at once, and read the
+words the dead had written for him. He went down to the kitchen, and,
+setting the door open so that no sound made in the house should escape
+his ears, commenced the perusal of his murdered father's diary.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+MR. HOLDFAST'S DIARY.
+
+
+Tuesday, _1st July_.--I am once more in London, after a long absence
+and much wandering in America, where I sought in vain for my dear son,
+Frederick, the son I wronged and thrust from my house. Bitterly have I
+repented of my error, and bitterly am I punished for it.
+
+Almost at the last moment, in New York, a hope of success was held out
+to me. Returning to my hotel there from New Orleans, in which city,
+from information conveyed to me in a letter from a stranger, I hoped
+to find Frederick, I was informed that a gentleman had called to see
+me. The description given to me of this gentleman--who, the manager
+of the hotel informed me, appeared to be in by no means prosperous
+circumstances--left no doubt in my mind that it was my son. He had,
+then, received the letters I sent to him, directed to the New York
+Post-office, and had at once sought me out. Unhappy chance that caused
+me to be absent when he called! I must have been a thousand miles away
+at the time, following a false scent supplied by a stranger. It has
+occurred to me within these last few days, during my voyage home, that
+an enemy may have been at work in America to prevent a meeting between
+me and my son. There is no meanness, no wickedness, no baseness, to
+which the wretched woman who calls me husband, and her paramour, would
+not stoop. And for the cunning necessary to keep me and my son apart
+from each other, have I not had sufficient proof that they are capable
+of it? Strange that the suspicion did not occur to me in America! Now
+that--perhaps too late--it presents itself, it comes upon me with
+singular force. The letter, written to me by a stranger, which drove
+me so far from New York on a fruitless errand, was not the only one
+I received conveying to me, gratuitously, information which retarded
+instead of assisting me in my purpose. They were all in different
+handwriting, it is true, but may they not have been written by one man?
+Even were it otherwise, there is as little difficulty in New York as
+there is in London in obtaining agents to assist in the carrying out of
+any villainous design. But now my mind is set upon this suspicion of
+systematic deceit, I am of the opinion that but one enemy was engaged
+in it, and that that enemy is the scoundrel Pelham, my wretched wife's
+accomplice. If it be so, he must have followed me to America, and
+watched my movements, cunningly misdirecting them when he deemed it
+necessary. Working against such an enemy is working in the dark. It is
+my unhappy fate that, alone, I have not the courage to publicly proclaim
+my disgrace. I should die under the shame of it. With my son by my side
+I might be able, were no other way open for a settlement, to nerve
+myself to any effort he might advise. Without him I am powerless, and
+indeed, were a public exposure forced upon me--were I certain that by no
+other possible means could I rid myself of this infamous woman--my son's
+evidence would be necessary to complete the case against her. But before
+this terrible necessity is made clear to me, every means must be adopted
+to settle the unhappy affair in a private manner. Never again could I
+hold up my head and meet the gaze of my fellow-man were I to hear my
+name and the shameful secrets of my home shouted out in the streets by
+hawkers of public news. My life would be blasted indeed were I to see my
+dishonour publicly proclaimed in the newspaper bills that are displayed
+at every railway station in the kingdom. Ah, then the son who renounced
+my name, driven to it by my folly, my incredulousness, my injustice,
+might deem himself fortunate that he had done so before it was dragged
+into the gutters, and covered with ignominy!
+
+I waited impatiently in my New York hotel for my son to make a second
+call, but to my great disappointment he did not again appear. My
+letters, which he must have received, were brief, but they explained
+my anxiety to see him and to be reconciled with him. He could not have
+followed me to New Orleans, for I had taken the precaution so to arrange
+my route as not to afford any stranger a clue to my destination. In this
+I was actuated by my overpowering desire to keep my family affairs from
+public gaze--a more difficult matter in America, where the newspaper
+interviewer appears to be ubiquitous, than it is in any other country
+in the world. On the twelfth day of my last stay in the hotel, exactly
+three weeks ago, I received news which determined me to return
+immediately to England. The news was startling and overwhelming, and
+added another shame to that which was already weighing me down. My
+wife had given birth to a child. This child is not mine. Imperative,
+therefore, was the necessity of bringing the shameful matter to an end
+without delay. I took passage to Liverpool in the "Germanic," and before
+I left New York I placed in the hands of the manager of the hotel a
+letter for my son, to be given to him privately, in case he should call.
+The letter contained bank notes for £200 and a sight draft for £500,
+payable to bearer, and was to the effect that Frederick was to follow
+me home by the earliest possible opportunity. I instructed him in the
+letter to take his passage to Liverpool, and on his arrival there to
+inquire at the post office for a letter, which I intended should enable
+him to come to me at once. It is because these proceedings have, up to
+the present time, not led to a successful result, and because of the
+suspicion that has obtained a firm hold in my mind of some cunning
+underhand plotting to prevent my son from meeting me, that I think it
+best to keep a record of what has been done and of what is likely to
+take place.
+
+The "Germanic" made a rapid passage, and on the day of my arrival in
+Liverpool I wrote and sent to the post-office a letter for my son,
+telling him to come to the Adelphi Hotel, where I awaited him. I
+remained in Liverpool six days, in the hope of seeing my son, and my
+hope has not been fulfilled. Then I came on to London, travelling by a
+night train. Determining that my presence in the City shall be known
+only to my son and my wife, at least for a few days, which time I shall
+employ in the endeavour to come to a private arrangement with the woman
+who has dishonoured me, I looked about for a lodging in a neighbourhood
+where it is likely the movements of a stranger may not be subjected to
+curious inquiry. Within half-a-mile from the railway terminus is Great
+Porter Square, quiet and retired; it appears to be the very locality I
+desire. The houses in this quiet square are mostly lodging-houses, the
+landlords and landladies of which are more anxious about their rent than
+about the characters of their tenants. In such a neighbourhood men and
+women are doubtless in the habit of coming and going, of appearing and
+disappearing, without exciting curiosity. Cards of rooms to let were in
+a great many windows, and I selected a house, No. 119, and found, upon
+inquiry, that I could have a bed-room on the first-floor, or one on the
+second. I took the bedroom on the first-floor, which is at the back of
+the house, and the landlady informed me that by the end of the week I
+could have the adjoining room, the windows of which front the Square, as
+the present occupant had given notice to leave. But the back room will
+probably suit my purpose for a while. I avoided giving the landlady my
+name by paying her a month's rent in advance, with which she appears
+perfectly satisfied.
+
+The moment I took possession of my room I wrote two letters, one to my
+son at the Liverpool post-office, the other to my wife. In my letter to
+Frederick I simply said that I am to be found for a few days at No. 119,
+Great Porter Square, and I desired him to hasten to me at once, without
+communicating with any person. I have in my previous letters impressed
+upon him the importance of secrecy. My letter to my wife also contained
+my address. I told her that I have arrived in London and that I am
+willing to come to an arrangement with her which will no doubt satisfy
+her, and which will keep our affairs from scandal-mongers. I requested
+her to call upon me at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning. Until that
+hour, therefore, I have nothing to do. The time will hang heavily, and
+my only relief is in this diary.
+
+I cannot read; I cannot sleep. Not alone the shamefulness of my
+position, but the injustice I inflicted upon my son, weighs upon my
+spirits. If he were with me all would be as well with me as it is
+possible to be. If he were here, and I could ask his forgiveness, and
+thus absolve him from the solemn oath I compelled him to take, I should
+feel strong once more, and equal to the awful crisis. In spirit now, my
+son, I ask your forgiveness most humbly. The sufferings I inflicted upon
+you are, I well know--for certain qualities in my nature are implanted
+in yours--irremediable; but all that a repentant father can do I will
+do. Forgive me, Frederick, for my blindness. I have wronged not only
+you, but the memory of your dear mother. It appears to me as if my mad
+act in allying myself with a creature so base has cast even upon her
+pure soul a shadow of dishonour.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Wednesday, 2nd July._--She has been here, and is gone. Our interview
+was a long one, and I apply myself now to a description of what passed
+between us, setting down simply that which is important to the momentous
+issue before me. It is the only way in which I can relieve the tedium of
+the dull, weary hours I am condemned to pass alone.
+
+She came into the room, closely veiled, and stood with her back against
+the closed door. She was calm and self-possessed. I trembled so that I
+could scarcely stand.
+
+"Who am I?" she asked.
+
+I heard the question with amazement, not at the words, but at the joyous
+tone in which it was asked. I did not answer, and she threw up her
+veil, and looked at me with eyes and face sparkling with animation and
+delight. It was as though she was playing a part in a masquerade. Never
+had I seen her look so well. No trace of anxiety or disquietude was
+observable in her. She was the very picture of joyous health and beauty,
+an embodiment of apparent innocence and peace of mind. But in my eyes
+she was no longer beautiful; I saw her soul through the mask she
+presents to the world, and I knew that it was corrupt and vile.
+
+She advanced to me with her arms stretched forward to embrace me, but I
+motioned her back sternly, and she stood still and looked at me with a
+smile on her lips.
+
+"What!" she exclaimed. "After this long absence, to refuse to kiss me!
+Ah, you are trying me, I see. You have not the heart to say you do not
+love me!"
+
+I pointed to the door, and said:
+
+"It will be best for both of us that our interview shall not be
+interrupted. In such houses as this the servants have an awkward habit
+of sometimes opening the doors unawares."
+
+She took the hint, and locked the door.
+
+"Now, my dear," she said, removing her hat and cloak, "we are quite
+alone--quite, quite alone! You see I am not afraid of you. I thought
+you were only playing with my feelings when you refused to embrace me.
+What, you will not kiss me even now? You have indeed grown cold and
+hard-hearted. You were not so once, in the sweet days, not so long
+ago, of our first acquaintanceship. And how old you have grown--quite
+haggard! My dear, gentlemen should not run away from their wives. This
+should be a lesson to you. I hope it will be--with all my heart I hope
+it will be; indeed, indeed I do! Oh, how I have suffered while you have
+been away! And never to send me a letter--not a single line to relieve
+my anxiety. It was cruel of you--too, too cruel! I have had the most
+horrible dreams of you. I dreamt you were ill, and I could not get to
+you--that you were in danger, and I could not help you--that you were
+dead, without as much as saying good-bye to your fond, faithful wife! It
+was horrible, horrible! Really, my dear, it would be a proper punishment
+if I refused ever to speak another word to you."
+
+"Have you done with your trifling?" I asked.
+
+"Trifling!" she cried. "You have been absent from me and your home for
+months, without sending me one message of affection, and now that you
+return to London suddenly, and take up your lodging in a mean house like
+this, and I am pouring my heart out at your feet, you call it trifling!
+Take care, my dear--you may try my patience too far!"
+
+"You may try mine too far," I retorted. "Cast aside, if it is possible,
+your false airs and affectations, and let us talk as business people in
+a business way."
+
+"It is for business, then," she said, still smiling in my face, "and not
+for love, you summoned me here?"
+
+"There is no question of love between us," I replied, and was about to
+proceed when she interrupted me.
+
+"You will force me to be as cold and hard-hearted as yourself. The last
+time we were together--alone, as we are now--yes, alone, for you dared
+not, you dare not, speak in the presence of a third party as you spoke
+to me then!--you brought against me a number of false accusations, and
+vowed that you would never live with me again. If I had been a man I
+would have killed you--do you hear? I would have killed you, and the
+words you addressed to me should have been the last you would ever have
+spoken. But you took advantage of my weakness, and you insulted me as no
+woman in the world was ever insulted. Is it to insult me again that you
+have sent for me now to meet you here alone?"
+
+It pleased me that she should adopt this tone. I could cope with her
+better when she showed me her true nature. "It is not of the past that
+I wish to speak," I said, calmly, "it is of the future."
+
+"But the past must be spoken of," she rejoined vehemently, "and shall
+be."
+
+"If you are determined, it must be so. You will find me very forbearing.
+My only wish is to put an end to this miserable business for once and
+for ever!"
+
+"To put an end to _me_, perhaps," she cried, thrusting her face close to
+mine in contemptuous defiance, "for once and for ever!"
+
+"At all events," I said, "so far as my own life is concerned. I wish to
+shut you out from my life from this time forth."
+
+"How do you propose to do that?" she asked.
+
+"By paying you for it," I replied, shortly.
+
+"You will have to bid high."
+
+"I am prepared to bid high."
+
+"There is not only the question of living," she said, with a dark look,
+"there is the question of a woman's feelings to be considered. You
+brought against me a charge of unfaithfulness--you accused me of being a
+vile woman, of low character and low morals. Do you still believe it?"
+
+"I still believe it," I replied.
+
+"How brutally manly it is of you to be so plain and concise! I can thank
+you, at least, for your frankness, liar as you are! You accused me of
+trumping up a designing untrue story of my life when I first met you,
+for the purpose of winning your sympathy. Do you still believe it?"
+
+"I still believe it."
+
+"How can I thank you? I know how I could repay you if I were a man. It
+is fortunate for you that I am not. You accused me of setting a snare
+for your son, who knew the true particulars of my life, you said, and
+who wished to remove the shame I had brought upon your name. My memory
+is not bad, is it? Do you still believe all this?"
+
+"I still believe it!"
+
+I think if she could have stabbed or poisoned me, and caused me to die
+at that moment, she would not have spared me.
+
+"Of course," she said, "you have seen your son."
+
+"To my grief," I replied, "I have not. I should be happier if I could
+see him and ask his forgiveness for the injustice I have done him."
+
+"The injustice you have done him through me?"
+
+"Yes, through you."
+
+"It is curious, too, that you have not met him," she said, and I noticed
+that she was secretly watching my face as she spoke: "you are such a
+good business man, and you went to America and remained there so long in
+the hope of finding him."
+
+"How do you know that?" I inquired. "How do you know, indeed, that I
+have been in America all the time I have been absent from England?"
+
+My questions warned her that she had made a mistake.
+
+"People will talk," she said; "you don't suppose that I have kept my
+mouth closed, or that other persons have kept theirs, for months,
+because you took it into your head to run away from me. Upon my word, I
+was advised by friends to go to a magistrate, and lay the case before
+him."
+
+"You are as good in business matters as I am; in some matters better.
+You followed your own advice instead of the advice of others, and you
+did not go to a magistrate. I know your reason."
+
+"What was my reason?"
+
+"That you, like myself, have no wish to drag our private affairs before
+the public. Once in the courts you will find it difficult to escape
+them; to lay your life and character bare to official gaze would not
+suit you. No, I know how far I am compromised, and I know how far you
+will go."
+
+"You think you know."
+
+"I am sure I know."
+
+All at once she changed her tone. "I am bound to give way to you," she
+said, with an assumption of humility, "for you are my husband. I have no
+wish to irritate you, or to unsettle your mind more than it is already
+unsettled. There are women who, for less than you have said, for less
+than you have done, would have put you into a private madhouse. The
+delusions you have been under are very serious to me, but I will bear
+them as long as I can. If I were to tell any official, any doctor, that,
+returning home after a long absence, you never once inquired for your
+child, born during your absence, it would be a sufficient proof of your
+insanity."
+
+"I heard in New York that you had a child," I said, "and it brought me
+home earlier than I had intended."
+
+"Kind, thoughtful husband," she murmured, vindictively.
+
+"I would have avoided the subject," I said; "I would avoid it now.
+Shameless woman! Not upon the head of an innocent child, of whom I am
+not the father, do I desire to visit the sin of the mother. It would
+have become you better--if any suggestion that is good and modest in
+woman could occur to you--to have omitted all mention of your child.
+Listen now to me with your best attention. In the course I am adopting I
+am prompted by but one desire--to avoid the shame which publicity would
+bring upon me. For that reason have I kept my return home a secret from
+every person but yourself with whom I am acquainted in London; for that
+reason I have taken this lodging in an obscure locality, so that I may
+confer the more privately with you, and endeavour to bring you to a true
+sense of your position. Publicity will bring shame to me; it will bring
+beggary to you--absolute beggary. Let that fact sink into your mind;
+ponder well over it; and while you think of it let this declaration
+which I am about to make have its due weight. If you drive me to the
+extremity of forcing you into a public court, and the case be decided
+against you, as it must, no persuasion or entreaty shall induce me to
+assist you to the value of a shilling in your future. You will have to
+depend absolutely upon yourself and your vile associate for your means
+of living. You compel me to hold out this threat, which, under other
+circumstances, I should deem unmanly and inhuman."
+
+"It _is_ unmanly and inhuman," she said. "Why do you hold out such a
+threat?"
+
+"Because, as I have said, it is the only means I can adopt to bring you
+to a proper understanding of your position. Shame you could bear, for
+you have already borne it, and it has not touched your fatal beauty."
+Her vain nature could not but be gratified at this admission, and she
+bestowed upon me a radiant smile. "But poverty, if I have the slightest
+knowledge of your character, you could not bear. It would be the
+bitterest punishment with which you could be visited."
+
+"I can almost imagine," she said, with a keen glance at me, "that you
+have been taking a lesson out of your son's book. You tell me you have
+not seen him. Is it the truth?"
+
+"It is the truth. I am dealing plainly and honestly with you."
+
+"You are a true Christian," she said, with a sneer; "good for evil--and
+such good for such evil! Yet there is something unchristianlike in your
+threat, too. You would thrust me into the streets?"
+
+"As you made me thrust my son. As heaven is my judge, I would do it, in
+the cause of justice!"
+
+"That is one side of your mind; there is another. Suppose I plead
+guilty; suppose I fall upon my knees before you and confess my sin. My
+sin! My sins! For they are so many--O, so many!" She said this with a
+theatrical air, and then spoke in a soberer tone. "That is a proper mode
+of confession for such a woman as you believe me to be. But without
+trying to impose upon you, suppose I admit, without any attempt at
+romance or deceit--for those acts are played out now, are they not? and
+we come to a winding-up of the plot--suppose I am wicked, and guilty of
+every charge you bring against me. What would you require me to do?"
+
+"First to leave my house, taking with you all that belongs to you--your
+trinkets, dresses, and ornaments--to leave my house, and never enter it
+again as long as you live."
+
+"But if I died, I might haunt you," she said, with a laugh, "though I
+assure you I have no intention of dying for a good many years yet. And
+then?"
+
+"To renounce my name--adopt any other you please, it matters not to me,
+but mine you shall no longer bear."
+
+"Really," she said, "the similarity between your conditions and those of
+your son is very wonderful. It is hardly possible to believe you have
+not been conspiring--but of course it would not become me to doubt the
+word of so honourable a gentleman. And then?"
+
+"To leave the country for good."
+
+"Another coincidence. I was almost inclined myself to suggest it to you.
+And in payment of these sacrifices, what do you offer?"
+
+"An income of twelve hundred pounds a year, secured, to be paid
+regularly and faithfully to you so long as you do not violate the
+conditions of the agreement."
+
+"Secured by deed?"
+
+"Yes, in the manner most agreeable to you. Do you consent?"
+
+"What!" she exclaimed. "In a moment! No, indeed, I must have time to
+ponder, to let the facts sink into my mind, as you said. It is not only
+_your_ life, _your_ honour, and _your_ welfare that are concerned. It
+affects me more than it does you, for I am young, and have a long life
+before me; you are old, and will soon be in your grave. I hope you have
+no intention of cheating the law, and marrying again. I can stand a
+great deal, but not that. I am a jealous woman, and really loved you for
+a few days. You loved me, too, or you lied to me most wickedly. Is there
+any other woman you wish to serve as you have served me?"
+
+"If I were free, I should never marry again."
+
+"My dear," she said, in her lightest tone, "it is a wise resolve. Only
+the young should marry. When I am as old as you I shall enter a convent,
+and repent, and become good. Till then, I must continue to be wicked.
+How long do you give me to decide between the two things you have
+offered me?"
+
+"What time do you require?"
+
+"To-day is Wednesday. Two days--that will be Friday. But Friday is
+such an unlucky day, and I am so unfortunate! On Saturday--shall it
+be Saturday? Will you give me till then? Have pity on me! You will not
+refuse me so short a time as three days, in which I am to decide my
+fate?"
+
+The words, written down, bear an entirely different construction from
+that in which she employed them. Her voice was a voice of mockery, and
+upon her lips was the same pleasant smile with which, I have no doubt,
+she would have killed me where I stood had it been in her power.
+
+"Let it be Saturday," I said.
+
+"I will come then," she said sweetly, "and see once more the gentleman I
+swore to love, honour, and obey. Thank you, so much! Will you not kiss
+me, even now? Will you not as much as shake hands with me? Cruel! If I
+had known you better, when you begged me to be your wife, I should have
+hesitated; I should not have trusted my future to the hands of such a
+man. I had my doubts; I said, 'He is too old, he cannot understand a
+young heart like mine.' Ah, if I had listened to the voice of prudence!
+But when was a woman in love prudent? I may arrange my hair at your
+looking glass, may I not? I am your wife, although you hate me. Thank
+you once more. What a pretty glass--and what a sweet room! I could live
+here with you for ever, if you loved and cared to have me. But it can
+never be, can it? You have found me out. O, how dreadful it is to be
+found out! Worse for a woman than for a man--a thousand, thousand times
+worse! My hair has grown longer since I last saw you--don't you think
+so? And thicker. Feel it. No? How miserable you are! Did you ever really
+love me, I wonder? If I were a man, and loved a woman as pretty as I
+am--you can't deny that I _am_ pretty; when I walk through the streets
+with my veil up, nine men out of ten stop and turn to look at me; that's
+why I wear my veil down. A married woman! They should be ashamed of
+themselves. But what can a pretty woman do? What was I saying? O, I
+remember. If I were a man, and loved a woman as good-looking as I am, I
+would go through fire and water for her. I would, indeed! What a woman
+wants is love, devotion--perfect devotion--and liberty to do whatever
+she likes. That is all. Else what does a woman marry for? To be a slave?
+You say you will never marry again. Nor will I--you shall not outdo me in
+generosity. I may love, but I will never marry--never, never! You men
+are either fools or something worse--and women, too, are fools when they
+sell themselves for money, as I did, and tie themselves to creatures who
+can't appreciate them. I don't mean you, my dear. No--you are too soft,
+and yielding, and honourable. More women would be happy if there were
+more men in the world like you. See how happy you have made me--see
+what you have brought me to!"
+
+She sank upon a chair, and covered her face with her hands, and I
+saw tears stealing between her fingers--but I saw, also, that she was
+watching my face all the while to note the effect her words had upon me.
+I did not interrupt her in her speech. I stood quietly observing her,
+and wondering within myself whether there were many women like her, and
+whether other men were suffering as I was suffering. All the while she
+was talking she was arranging her hair, and displaying it to the best
+advantage. Heaven knows how old she is, but as she stood before me,
+turning occasionally, looking at me through the masses of fair hair
+which fell around her face, she did not appear to be more than eighteen.
+Her beauty, her appeals, the tender modulations of her voice, produced
+no other effect upon me than that of wonder and disgust. I did not allow
+this feeling to be seen; the stake at issue was too momentous for me,
+by a sign, to jeopardise the end I was working for. Presently she rose,
+and completed the arrangements of her hair, which she had purposely
+prolonged. Then, before putting on her hat and cloak, she asked me for a
+glass of wine. I had none, and I gave her a glass of water; she tasted
+it, and threw the rest away, saying:
+
+"My dear, you should drink wine. It is good for old men; it is
+nourishing."
+
+Still I did not speak, and as if to compel me, she asked,
+
+"Do they not know your name in this house?"
+
+"They do not," I replied.
+
+"Do you intend them to know it?"
+
+"I intend them not to know it. You can, of course, frustrate my
+intention if you will."
+
+"I do not wish. I thought you desired to keep it secret, and therefore,
+when I knocked at the door and it was opened, I did not ask for you by
+name, I simply asked if a gentleman was in who had taken a lodging here
+yesterday. The servant answered that he was, and directed me to your
+room. She did not even see my face. You see how I am endeavouring to
+fall in with all your wishes--anticipating them, even. But I love a
+mystery dearly. Good day, my dear. Till Saturday. I will be here,
+punctually at twelve. Shall I kiss baby for you? No? You are
+incorrigible."
+
+And with nods and pleasant smiles she left me, pulling her veil close
+over her face.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+MR. HOLDFAST'S DIARY.
+
+
+Thursday, _3rd July_.--No news of my son. I see by this morning's papers
+that another vessel has arrived at Liverpool from New York. It left four
+days after the "Germanic," so that, up to that time, Frederick could not
+have called at the hotel for the letter and money waiting there for
+him. I am growing seriously uneasy. He could not have mistaken my desire
+for a reconciliation. What can have become of him? He was in poor
+circumstances. Was he absolutely in want? If he is dead, his death lies
+at my door. A heavy lot is mine. I shall never again know peace of mind
+until I and Frederick clasp hands once more in love and friendship.
+
+Perhaps the secret enemy in New York who worked against me--watching my
+movements and in some mysterious way becoming acquainted with every step
+I took--was working also against my son, watching him and misdirecting
+him, as I was misdirected. It is not an unlikely supposition. As I was
+sent in one direction in search of him, he may have been sent in another
+in search of me. Thus have we been kept apart from each other. It is
+certain that, shortly after he called at my hotel, he must have left New
+York. My hope is, that nothing worse than poverty has befallen him. I am
+appalled at the thought that he may have been made to disappear, and may
+never more be heard of. It has been the fate of many a poor fellow in
+that fevered city. I pray to God that my fears may not prove true.
+
+The people in this house are very quiet. They do not appear to entertain
+the slightest curiosity concerning me. I walk in and out as few times
+as possible, and I have not met one of the lodgers face to face. A man
+might live here for years in perfect obscurity, and die and be buried
+without being recognised, if he pleased. There is no lonelier city in
+the world than London.
+
+What is my wife doing? Taking counsel of her accomplice, Pelham, and
+debating with him whether she shall accept the terms I have offered her.
+She _must_ accept them; she has no alternative but the alternative of
+poverty and exposure. A life of pleasure is before her; it is all she
+lives for, and the income she will receive from me will secure it.
+But should she refuse? No, she will not refuse. With such a cool,
+calculating villain as Pelham to counsel her, the risk of a public
+exposure is small.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Friday, 4th July._--The quietest of days. Since Wednesday I have not
+exchanged a word with a human being. No one takes the slightest notice
+of me as I walk in and out. Still no news of my son. To-morrow my wife
+will be here, and there will be an end to my state of inaction.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Saturday, 5th July._--The second interview with my wife has
+terminated. She could have had no intention of putting me on my guard,
+but she has done so, and on Monday I shall take a step which will
+prevent injustice being done to my son, in case he is alive.
+
+My wife came into my room, as on the last occasion, closely veiled, and
+with spirits as animated.
+
+"My love," she said, removing her hat and cloak, and throwing them on
+the bed, "not a soul saw me. The servant girl, with her face as black as
+coal, opened the door, and asked what I wanted. 'The gentleman on the
+first floor,' I said, and pushed past her. And do you know I took the
+precaution to disguise my voice. She wouldn't recognise me if she heard
+me speak in my natural voice. I did this for your sake, my dear--you are
+so anxious for secrecy. Am I not considerate? I don't mind being seen
+and known, for I have nothing to conceal, but I must obey you. And how
+have you been all this time? Well, I hope. How foolish you are to remain
+cooped up in this miserable house when you have a comfortable home
+waiting for you! I have expected you--upon my word I have; and your room
+is ready for you, with a nice fire always burning, and your slippers,
+placed right and left, just by your arm-chair. O, I know what a wife's
+duty is. Let me prevail upon you. Come home with me now. I will not
+reproach you--indeed I will not. I will be just as faithful and loving
+as I have ever been."
+
+She paused for my answer.
+
+"You are wasting time," I said. "You know well that I shall never again
+enter my house while you are there!"
+
+"My dear," she said, tapping my arm lightly with a pearl fan I had given
+her, "you cannot entirely deceive me. I have been thinking a great deal.
+It is my belief you are a Don Juan. I had my suspicions when you first
+made love to me--an old gentleman like you falling in love with a girl
+like me, because I have a pretty face, and bright eyes, and a lovely
+mouth. You were fond of kissing it once--O, you men, you men! Will
+artless women ever be a match for you? I am afraid never, you speak so
+softly, and promise so much. Yes, I have been thinking a great deal, and
+I know all about it now. I know why you have been absent so long; I know
+why you come unexpectedly to London, and hide yourself as you are doing;
+I know why you will not enter your house while I am there."
+
+She paused again, and half sullenly, half gaily, gave me to understand
+that she expected me to challenge her knowledge.
+
+"It is of no interest to me," I said, "but it may bring us nearer to our
+real business if I ask you for information on these points."
+
+"Why," she said, with an impudent laugh, "there is another lady in the
+case, of course, who is to step into my shoes. It is useless denying it.
+Old men are not to be trusted. Come, my dear, make a clean breast of it.
+I won't scold you more than I can help. It is quite natural, though. I
+have my feelings as a woman, and I warn your new fancy to keep out of my
+path. You must have been a sad rake when you were young--almost as bad
+as your son, who made love to me in the most shameful manner; to me, his
+second mother."
+
+I scorned to pursue the subject. Wilful, wicked, sinful and cunning, as
+she was, I felt that to a certain extent it would be as well to let her
+have her way with her tongue.
+
+"When you have fully relieved your mind," I said coldly, "I am ready to
+enter into the business matter which brings us together."
+
+But she had not yet done.
+
+"Fie!" she exclaimed. "Business--business--business! How often are you
+going to use that word? Is love a business, then? You can tell me, for
+you must have had hundreds of sad adventures. I have had very few as
+yet, but there is time for plenty more. My dear, I positively refuse to
+enter into our special little affair until you assure me there is no
+other lady in the case."
+
+Compelled to reply, I said, "There is none."
+
+She mocked me with a deep sigh, saying, "You have taken a weight off my
+heart," and then in a brisk tone, "And now, my dear, we will go into
+matters." She drew her chair close to the table, and produced a dainty
+little pocket-book, in which she consulted some slips of paper, a few
+of them covered with figures. "You offer me," she said, "twelve hundred
+pounds a year, upon conditions which will cover me with disgrace, and
+make people point at me. Is that correct?"
+
+"Not quite," I replied. "You have omitted that you are to live out of
+England in any name you choose except the name of Holdfast. Your new
+acquaintances will know nothing of your past life."
+
+"It will be a miracle if it is hidden from them," she said, betraying a
+method in her speech which proved that she had carefully rehearsed what
+she came prepared to say. "I do not intend to live in a desert. If I am
+driven by your cruelty from the country I love, and where, with money, a
+lady may enjoy all the pleasures of life, I shall live on the Continent,
+in France, Italy, Germany, where I please, but certainly where I can
+best enjoy myself. English people travel everywhere, and I shall be sure
+to drop across old acquaintances, or, at least, people who know me at
+sight. My face is too pretty to be forgotten. Perhaps you will admit
+that I cannot lose myself entirely, and that Lydia Holdfast, by whatever
+name she goes, will always be Lydia Holdfast in the eyes of casual or
+close acquaintances."
+
+"I shall not relate my troubles to any one," I observed, as yet ignorant
+of her intention in adopting this line of argument, "nor need you, if
+you choose to preserve silence."
+
+"Have you not already spoken of what has occurred?" she asked, with a
+keen glance at me. "Have you not already selected confidants to whom you
+have poured out false stories of your wrongs?"
+
+"No man or woman in the world possesses my confidence. My griefs are
+sacred."
+
+"How poetical! But although we shall not talk, other people will. Men
+and women are so charitable! They don't like scandal, and it hurts them
+so much to rob even the most innocent woman of her character! No, no, my
+love; I know the world better than to believe that. Not that I have ever
+taken away a character, man or woman's, but then everybody is not like
+me, artless, and simple, and inexperienced!" (No words of mine can
+convey an idea of the impudent manner in which she thus lauded herself,
+knowing the while and knowing that I knew, that she was speaking in
+mockery. If she desired to irritate me by this exhibition of effrontery,
+she failed. I preserved my composure throughout the entire scene. She
+continued:) "So, my character would be completely taken away, and ladies
+with whom I should wish to be on friendly terms would turn their backs
+upon me. I should be thrown into the company of women who would not be
+admitted into a decent house, and of men whose only aim would be to
+pass their time agreeably and play upon my feelings. My dear, I am fond
+of good society; I doat upon it; and it breaks my heart to think that
+respectability would shrug its respectable shoulders at me. It is right
+that I should put it plainly to you, is it not?"
+
+"Go on," I said, "you have more to say, and have come prepared."
+
+"Oh, yes, I am prepared, you see. I am obliged to consult my notes, my
+poor little head is so weak. You remember how I used to suffer with it,
+and how often you bathed it for me. Gold would not have been too good
+for me to eat then, would it? A look would bring you at my feet; you
+could not do enough for me; and now, I daresay, you would like to give
+me a dose of poison. What courage I must have to shut myself in here
+with you alone, where nobody knows either of us, and where you might
+murder me, and run away without fear of discovery! It is the courage of
+innocence, my dear. Where did I leave off just now? O, about my being
+deprived of respectable society, and thrust into the company of
+blackguards. And for this, and for giving up my beautiful home and
+position and forfeiting my good name, you offer me twelve hundred
+pounds a year. And you, worth millions!"
+
+"You mistake. My business is broken up, and I am not so rich as you
+suppose."
+
+"You are a miser, my dear. You are worth at least ten thousand a year. I
+do not forget what you told me when you honoured me with your love and
+confidence. At least ten thousand, and I am to accept twelve hundred.
+My darling husband, it is not enough. Wherever I live I shall require
+an establishment. I have your daughter to bring up--the darlingest
+little thing you ever saw! You shall not see her now if I can prevent
+it--casting shame upon her, as you have done, before she has learnt to
+say Mama! I will do my duty by her--a mother's duty, and a father's
+duty as well, and I will bring her up to hate you. If you live long
+enough you shall be made to feel it. And now, when she cannot speak for
+herself, I am to stand like a tame cat, and see her robbed! She is to
+be made a beggar. Such a beautiful girl as she will have to go in rags,
+because the father who disowns her is a mean, stingy monster. I hope I
+do not offend you, my dear, but the truth is the truth, and had best be
+spoken. Yes, she will be beautiful--but beauty and beggary---- Well, we
+know what becomes of that partnership. She shall not be compelled to
+sell herself, as I did, to an old money-bag, with no heart, and you
+shall not cheat her and me of what is due to us. No, my dear, I stand up
+for my child, as every mother should."
+
+"Tell me," I said, "in as few words as possible, what it is you want."
+
+"I shall use," she replied, "as many words as I please. You would like
+to rob me of my tongue as well as of my rights. What is it I want? An
+establishment--money to provide a suitable home for your discarded
+child."
+
+"How much money."
+
+"Three thousand pounds--not less."
+
+"You shall have it; in addition to the annuity I have offered you."
+
+"How generous you are! What a pity you were not a young man when you
+met me first! We might really have got on very well together for a few
+years, until you were tired of me or I was of you. Three thousand pounds
+will be little enough to furnish with, but I must manage. Then there's
+the house; and living abroad is so expensive. It is like going into
+exile--the same as those dear French refugees. It will cost at least
+three thousand a year; I can't see how it is to be done for less. And
+to wait every quarter for the cheque to pay servants, and butchers, and
+bakers, and dressmakers. No, my dear, it would be too harassing--it
+would be the death of me. So I have consulted a friend--a lady
+friend--you don't believe me? You think it's a gentleman friend. Well,
+my dear, I shall not quarrel with you on that point. Say a gentleman
+friend, then; I'm not particular. He has advised me not to place any
+dependence on a man who has treated me as you have done. He is right. I
+will not place dependence on you. I will not take your word, and I will
+not be satisfied with a paper drawn up by a lawyer of your choosing.
+Lawyers are rogues; they will do anything for money, and you are rich
+enough to buy them. No, my darling husband, it must be a sum of money
+down, and then we will say good bye, and agree never to kiss and be
+friends. It would be as if we had never known each other."
+
+Desirous to ascertain how far her cupidity had led her, or rather the
+extent of the demand her associate Pelham had instructed her to make,
+I pressed her to be quite explicit. With some show of timidity--for
+the stake she was playing for was enormous--she wrote upon a leaf in
+her pocket-book the sum for which she would agree to release me. It
+was fifty thousand pounds. I tore the leaf in two and threw it into
+the fireplace, with the simple word, "Impossible."
+
+"Why impossible?" she asked, biting her lips, with a wicked look at me.
+
+"It is more than half my fortune," I replied.
+
+"I am entitled to more than half," she retorted. "I shall have your
+child to educate and provide for, and a woman's expenses are larger
+than a man's. Dress, amusements, nurses, governesses--there are a
+thousand things to pay for which you would never dream of. What I ask
+for is really moderate. You are lucky you have not to deal with some
+women; they would not let you off so easily. Let me persuade you, my
+dear. Put an end to all this worry, give me a cheque, and let us say
+good-bye to each other."
+
+"I shall put an end to it, if you compel me," I said, firmly, "in the
+manner I have determined upon, in the event of your refusal to listen to
+reason. In right and justice you are not entitled to a shilling; your
+shameful life should properly meet its just punishment, and would, at
+the hands of a man less weak--I will not say less merciful--than I.
+The terms I have offered you are foolishly liberal, but I will adhere
+to them, and am ready to bind myself to them, unless you drive me to
+another course. I will give you the three thousand pounds you ask for
+to set up and furnish a house, and I shall require proof that the money
+is so expended. But as for any other large sum of money down, as you
+express it, in lieu of the annuity I offer you, or any increase of that
+annuity, receive from me the distinct assurance that under no possible
+circumstances shall I consent to it. If I could find plainer and
+stronger words to impress this upon you, I would do so, but I think you
+understand me. The friend who is advising you is advising you to your
+injury, and is mistaken in me. There is a point beyond which it is
+dangerous to drive me, and if I once turn, you will find yourself a
+beggar."
+
+"You are growing bold, my love," she said.
+
+"You are mistaken again," I said. "If I were bold, I should order you
+immediately from this room. If I were bold, I should set the lawyers at
+work without an hour's delay. But recrimination is useless, and can lead
+to no good result. Why do you conduct yourself like an actress when we
+two are alone, and there are no witnesses to be misled or deceived? We
+know each other. No argument could convince you that I am anything but
+a weak, old man, who in an unhappy moment entrusted his honour to one
+who brought shame and misery to his heart and home, or could convince
+me that you are a good and virtuous woman. Why, then, should we prolong
+this interview? I made you a most generous offer. You asked me for three
+days to consider it, and now you come, and for some purpose--not a wise
+one, I judge--introduce propositions to which you can never induce me to
+agree."
+
+"I am fighting for my rights," she said sullenly, and I knew that I had
+made an impression upon her. "You have ruined my life; I might have
+married a richer man than you. Why did you spoil my chances? It would be
+a million times better for me if you were dead, for then your property
+would all be mine, instead of the miserable allowance you offer me."
+
+She suddenly paused, conscious that she had made a mistake. It is likely
+that she was apprised of her error by an expression in my face produced
+by her words, for it is a fact that up to this moment I had forgotten
+that I had made a Will by which everything I possessed was left to her,
+solely and unconditionally. I had made this Will in haste, after I had
+broken with my son, who at that time was my heir. It was a proof of my
+confidence in the woman who betrayed me--one of those foolish acts of
+which angry men are often guilty, done in haste, to be repented of in
+leisure unless timefully atoned for. Thank God there is time to repair
+this error!
+
+I gave no expression to my thoughts; it was necessary to be careful
+in the presence of such a woman as my wife. But so anxious was she
+to assure herself of the exact position in which she stood that she
+over-reached herself in her cunning.
+
+"Have you made another Will?" she asked.
+
+"No," I replied. "There is time before me; I am not yet quite
+broken-down."
+
+She breathed more freely, and said meekly, "Yes, there is time before
+you in which you can dispossess me and my child. When this dreadful
+dispute is over, I shall have no further claim upon you. Are you really
+determined not to be a little more generous to me? Will you not give me
+fifteen hundred a year?"
+
+I was not to be deceived by her mock humility; heaven only knows what
+was hidden beneath it.
+
+"I am not to be moved," I said, "and there must be an end at once to
+prevarication. Your answer must be 'yes,' or 'no,' and it must be given
+quickly."
+
+"To-day?" she asked.
+
+"If not to-day, at least within the next three or four days," I replied.
+"I will no longer be kept in a state of suspense."
+
+She looked at me with a sad expression, which might have deceived
+another man.
+
+"On Wednesday, then," she said, "at two o'clock, I will give you my
+final answer. It must be 'Yes,' of course, for you are strong and I am
+weak, but I will wait till then. I am bound to consult my friend before
+I commit myself."
+
+All her gaiety appeared to have deserted her. In silence she put on her
+hat and shawl, and bade me good morning, saying she would come at two
+o'clock on Wednesday.
+
+I mistrust her; I will delay no longer. On Monday I will draw out
+another Will, making my son my heir, and in case of his not being
+alive--which God forbid!--leaving my money to charitable purposes.
+
+It is a relief to reflect that my anxiety regarding my wife will soon be
+at an end. She cannot but consent to my proposal, and then I shall be
+free from her for ever. Would to God I had never seen her!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Sunday, 6th July._--This has been truly a Sabbath Day, a day of prayer,
+to me, and has been passed in contemplation of my past life, and in
+supplications for the future. If a man could but see the consequences of
+his errors before he was committed to them, how much misery to himself,
+how much injustice to others, would be avoided! It is almost incredible
+that, blessed in the memory of a wife with a pure heart and mind, I
+should have been led into a second marriage with such a woman as Lydia
+Wilson. The fault was more mine than hers. She had led a life of shame
+and duplicity, and it was not to be expected that the simple forming of
+an acquaintanceship with me would change her character. I should have
+been wiser, or at least more prudent. I ought certainly to have made an
+inquiry into the truth or falsehood of the story she told me, or I might
+have considered that the union of a man of my age with a woman of hers
+could not be a happy one. It is too late now to repent of an act which
+has brought its own just and bitter punishment. The only reparation I
+can make is to endeavour to repair the evil consequences which have
+ensued. The one aim of my life, after the settlement with my wife is
+accomplished, will be to find my son. I will advertise for him in the
+English and American newspapers, and this surely will bring me news of
+him. But it may not be necessary; he may be with me any time this week.
+If a father's prayers could bring him to my side he would be here at
+this moment.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Monday, 7th July._--I have been employed during a great part of the day
+in preparing and writing a new Will. Not wishing to consult a lawyer and
+so to make known my presence in London, and fearful also of delay, I
+purchased at a stationer's shop, at some distance from Great Porter
+Square, printed forms of Wills from which I drew out a testamentary
+disposition of my property. This task occupied me until four o'clock
+in the afternoon, and the next task was to obtain witnesses to my
+signature. These could have been obtained in the house, but if I had
+attempted it I should have destroyed my incognito. I went to the shop
+of the stationer of whom I purchased the printed forms, and I returned
+them to him, and made some small purchases, to the amount of a couple
+of sovereigns. I then asked the shopkeeper whether he would have any
+objection to witnessing my signature to a Will, and to allowing an
+assistant who was serving in the shop also to witness it. He consented,
+and I signed without giving him a clear opportunity of distinguishing my
+name; the names of the witnesses followed, and the Will was complete. In
+payment of the service rendered to me I left in the man's shop the goods
+I had bought and paid for; I had no use for them.
+
+The Will is before me now, and I have read it carefully over. Everything
+appears to be stated in proper legal form, and I have no doubt that it
+sets my last Will completely aside. What I have done myself without the
+aid of lawyers has been simply a measure of precaution for the next few
+days. Wednesday, I hope, will be the last day of my enforced retirement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Wednesday, 8th July._--It is now four o'clock. My wife entered my room
+at one o'clock, an hour before that appointed for our meeting. I did
+not hear her step on the stairs or in the passage, and not expecting her
+I was looking over the Will I made yesterday and the pages of the diary
+I have kept since I became a lodger in this house. As she entered,
+suddenly and unexpectedly, I threw a newspaper over my writing, not
+wishing to excite her suspicions or to arouse her curiosity; but, as I
+soon discovered, I was not successful. She was in her usual gay mood,
+and came in with smiles and bright looks.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said, "here I am, punctual to the minute."
+
+"You are an hour too early," I replied, "our appointment was for two
+o'clock."
+
+"One o'clock, my dear," she said, correcting me.
+
+"It is immaterial," I said, "and if it bring our business to a speedier
+conclusion, the mistake of an hour will be agreeable to me."
+
+She nodded pleasantly, and, as in our previous interviews, took off her
+hat and mantle, and placed them aside.
+
+"You have been busy," she said, pointing to the newspaper which covered
+my papers. "Are you writing a book?" I did not answer her, and she
+continued, still preserving her light tone. "Make me your heroine, my
+love, but do not be too hard to me. Say something good of me if you can.
+You may say that, after all, I showed my good sense, and agreed to your
+proposals."
+
+"Am I to accept this as an acquiescence in the arrangement I have
+proposed?"
+
+"Yes, my dear; I have grown sensible. I give in to all your terms. I
+will go away from England, and will never, never return. I will give up
+the name of Holdfast; I will even forget the name of Lydia, and will go
+out into the world a new woman. A better one, I hope. There is but one
+thing I insist upon. Now that I have made up my mind, and that nothing
+can alter it--nothing, my dear; I would not live with you again if you
+were to entreat me on your knees--I want this business matter settled at
+once, this very day."
+
+"How can that be done?" I asked.
+
+"Easily," she replied. "Draw up a paper for me to sign, and another for
+you to sign. I will take them away with me, and will show them to my
+lawyer. Yes, my love, I have consulted a lawyer, and he has advised me
+to agree to all you propose. If he says the papers are properly drawn
+out, I will come again to-night, at ten o'clock, and will bring my
+lawyer with me, to see that they are regularly signed. I will keep
+my agreement, and you will keep yours, and to-morrow morning I will
+leave your house, and you can go home and take possession. Nobody but
+ourselves will be the wiser, and your secret and mine will never be
+known to the world."
+
+"I am no lawyer," I said; "I do not know whether I can draw up the
+agreement in legal form."
+
+"Try, my love," she said; "you are fond of writing, and have had great
+experience. You can put anything you please in the paper you wish me to
+sign. You can make it, if you like, a confession from me that I have
+been a faithless wife, and that my child is not yours. I will sign it.
+That will suit you, will it not? And it will give you such a hold upon
+me that, if I break my word, you can release yourself from me, without
+ever paying me a shilling. That is fair, I am sure, and afterwards,
+if you are not satisfied with the agreements, your lawyer can draw up
+others more binding on both of us. I am so sick of you, my love, that
+nothing else will satisfy me but an immediate break between us. Do I not
+put myself entirely in your power? If you refuse now, I shall leave you
+to take any steps against me you choose."
+
+I considered a few moments, and then consented. To go to law, to sue for
+a divorce, was a matter of months. The plan she proposed was all in my
+favour, and it would leave me free to recommence immediately the search
+for my son. I would draw up such a paper as would bind her beyond hope
+of appeal, and all danger of publicity would be avoided.
+
+"Who is your lawyer?" I asked.
+
+She produced a letter from a lawyer in Buckingham Palace Road replying
+to certain points she had submitted to him. I was satisfied, and said
+that I would endeavour to draw up the agreements.
+
+It was a work of time--of quite two hours--and while I was employed over
+the papers she sat down before the piano in my room, which I had never
+opened, and played the sweetest melodies with which she was familiar.
+She betrayed no impatience; only once did she rise from the piano,
+and disarranged the papers on the table, in pretended search of her
+handkerchief.
+
+"Quite an author," she remarked as her eyes fell upon the pages of my
+diary, among which was my new Will.
+
+Nothing of greater importance occurred. The agreements being ready, she
+read them over slowly, and simply said:
+
+"You have protected yourself, my love."
+
+"I have stated the truth," I replied, "and your signature will verify
+it."
+
+She remained with me some short time after this, making frivolous
+remarks, to which I returned but brief answers. Then she left me, on the
+understanding that she would come to the house at ten o'clock to sign
+the papers, which she took with her.
+
+On reflection, I think it will be wise even now to be on my guard
+against her. She saw the pages of my diary, and might have seen the
+Will. I will put them out of her reach. The room next to this is empty,
+and the door is unlocked. I will go and see if I can secrete them
+there.... There is in that room, in an old-fashioned table, an empty
+drawer which might easily escape observation. There is a small key in
+the lock. I will deposit these pages at once in the drawer, where they
+will be safe for a few hours.
+
+My long agony is approaching its end. Impatiently I wait for the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+CAGED.
+
+
+With those words the diary ended.
+
+In breathless silence, oblivious for the time of every surrounding
+circumstance, Frederick Holdfast perused the record of his father's
+last hours. What followed, after his father had secreted the papers,
+was clear to his mind. Mrs. Holdfast had kept her appointment at ten
+o'clock, accompanied by her "lawyer," who could have been no other than
+the villain Pelham. By a hapless fatality, the house, No. 119 Great
+Porter Square, had on that night but one inmate--the man who was never
+to see another rising sun. The landlady and her lodgers were at a
+wedding feast; the servant was enjoying the glories of the Alhambra,
+in the company of her sweetheart. Only Mr. Holdfast remained, and thus
+his murderers were enabled to enter and leave the house without being
+observed. Most likely he himself opened the street door for them. In the
+privacy of his room, with no witnesses near, the mask was thrown off by
+Mrs. Holdfast and her associate, and demands were made upon Mr. Holdfast
+with which he refused to comply. Whether the purpose of his visitors
+was murder would never now be known, but murder was accomplished before
+they departed, and the unhappy man was left by the wretched pair in the
+agonies of death. It was necessary, thereafter, for their own safety
+that they should not be seen in the neighbourhood of Great Porter
+Square, and it would have excited suspicion had they exhibited the
+slightest interest in the mysterious murder of a man whose body had
+not been identified. Before leaving their victim they had taken the
+precaution to empty his pockets of papers, and to remove from the room
+everything in writing which might have led to the identification of the
+body. Having made themselves safe, they left the house, and kept out of
+sight. But some time afterwards Mrs. Holdfast must have recalled, in
+conversation with Pelham, the memory of the sheets of paper covered with
+her husband's writing which she had seen upon the table when she had
+visited him; these pages were not found in his room, and they were then
+tormented by the idea that the writing was still in existence, and might
+one day be discovered to criminate and bring their guilt home to them.
+It became, therefore, vital to their safety that the papers should not
+fall into other hands, and for the purpose of searching for them and
+obtaining possession of them, Pelham had disguised himself as Richard
+Manx, and had taken an attic in No. 118 Great Porter Square, from which
+room he could gain easy access to the house in which the murder had been
+committed.
+
+The circumstantial evidence of guilt was complete, but direct evidence,
+in his father's own writing, now lay in Frederick Holdfast's hands.
+What remained to be done was to bring the murderer to the bar of
+justice.
+
+Not a moment was to be lost. It was now late in the night, and Pelham
+was doubtless upstairs, busily engaged in his last search.
+
+Frederick placed the papers carefully in his breast pocket. His honour
+was established, his name was returned to him, he was absolved from his
+oath. He could resume his position in the world, and could offer to the
+woman he loved an honourable position in society. It was she who had led
+him to this discovery; had it not been for her courage, the wretches
+would have escaped, and his father's murder remained unavenged.
+
+"I myself," said Frederick, "will deliver the murderer into the hands of
+justice. Tonight he shall sleep in a felon's cell."
+
+He had no fear. Single-handed he would arrest Pelham; it was but man to
+man, and he was armed, and his cause was just.
+
+He listened for a moment. It was a wild night, and the rain was pouring
+down heavily. The detective and his assistants were in the Square,
+waiting upon his summons. Nothing but the plashing of the rain was to
+be heard; no other sound fell upon his ears from within or without. The
+murderer was working warily in the room above; he himself would be as
+wary. Cunning for cunning, silence for silence, a life for a life.
+
+"You murderous villain!" murmured Frederick. "Were it not that I dare
+not stain my soul with a crime, you should not live another hour!"
+
+In his stocking-feet he crept from the kitchen, and stepped noiselessly
+up-stairs. In his hushed movements was typified the retribution which
+waits upon the man who sheds the blood of a human being.
+
+As he ascended the stairs which led to the first floor he was made
+aware, by the sound of a man moving softly in the room in which his
+father had been murdered, that Pelham was at work. In a few moments
+Frederick Holdfast was at the door, listening.
+
+Before he turned the handle, he looked through the key-hole to mark
+the exact spot upon which Pelham stood, so that he might seize him the
+instant he entered the room. To his surprise he saw two persons in the
+room--Pelham bending over the floor boards he had torn up, and the form
+of a man lying on the bed.
+
+He could not see the face of the recumbent man; the face of Pelham was
+clearly visible.
+
+It was not, then, man to man. There were two to one. Justice might be
+defeated were he to risk the unequal encounter. He determined to call in
+the assistance of the officers in the Square.
+
+But before he left the house, which was being watched from the front
+and the back, it would be as well to make sure of the murderer and his
+companion, so that they should have no possible means of escape. He took
+from his pocket the key of the room, which he had picked up a few hours
+ago; with a steady hand he inserted it in the lock, and gently turned
+it, being unable to prevent the sound of a slight click. Then he crept
+noiselessly down stairs, opened the street door, closed it softly
+behind him, and stepping into the road, put a whistle to his lips.
+
+The summons was not instantly obeyed, and he blew the whistle again, and
+looked anxiously around. The faint sound of another whistle presently
+answered him, and in two or three minutes the detective was by his side.
+
+"I was at the back of the house, sir," said the detective, in apology,
+"giving directions to one of my men, Parrock, a sharp fellow. You have
+discovered something," he added, noting Frederick's agitation.
+
+"I have found my father's diary," said Frederick, speaking rapidly, "and
+a Will he made two or three days before he was murdered."
+
+"Making you all right, I hope," said the detective.
+
+"Yes--but that is of no consequence. The diary, which I have read,
+leaves no room to doubt that my father was murdered by his wife's
+accomplice, Pelham. The evidence is conclusive, and he cannot escape the
+law, once we have him safe. He must be arrested this moment. He is in
+my father's room. I would have secured him myself, but he has another
+man with him, and I did not care to run the chance of two against one."
+
+"He has a woman with him, you mean," said the detective, "not a man."
+
+"A man, I mean," replied Frederick; "I saw him with my own eyes."
+
+"And I, with _my_ own eyes," rejoined the detective, "saw Mrs. Holdfast
+enter No. 118 this evening, in company of Richard Manx, otherwise
+Pelham. Attend to me a moment, sir. I see through it all. Mrs. Holdfast
+accompanied him to-night into the house. Never mind the motive--a
+woman's motive, say--curiosity, wilfulness, anything will serve. Pelham
+does not want her company--she forces it on him. What does he do then?
+He dresses her in a suit of his clothes, so that they may not attract
+attention when they leave Great Porter Square to-night for good. She
+is a noticeable woman, sir, and has a style about her which one can't
+help remarking. The person you saw was Mrs. Holdfast, dressed in man's
+clothes. They are both, you say, in the room your father occupied?"
+
+"Yes, and I have locked them in, so that they cannot easily get out of
+it."
+
+"Did they hear the key turn?" asked the detective, anxiously.
+
+"I was very quiet, and I think they did not hear the movement. If you
+are right in your conjecture, they have thrown themselves into our
+hands; their being together in that room is an additional proof of their
+guilt."
+
+"Undoubtedly. They are trapped. What's that?" cried the detective,
+suddenly.
+
+"What?" asked Frederick, following the detective's startled glance,
+which was directed towards the first-floor window of No. 119.
+
+"A flash! There! Another! Do you see it? By God, sir! they have set fire
+to the house! Ah, here is Parrock," he said, turning to the man who had
+run quickly to his side. "What news?"
+
+"The house is on fire," said the man, who was out of breath with fast
+running.
+
+"Any fool can see that. Get to the back of the house instantly. Take
+another man with you, and arrest every person who attempts to escape."
+Parrock disappeared. By this time the flames were rushing out of the
+front window of the first floor. "Fire! Fire!" cried the detective. "The
+neighbourhood is roused already. Stand close by the street door, sir,
+and don't let Pelham slip you. He has set fire to the house, and hopes
+to escape in the confusion. Leave all the rest to me. There is the door
+of 118 opening, and there is your young lady, sir, safe and sound. I
+wish you joy. Waste as little time as possible on her. Your first
+thought must be for your father's murderers."
+
+As Frederick passed to the street door of 119 he caught Blanche's hand,
+and she accompanied him. He stooped and kissed her.
+
+"Thank God, you are safe," he said. "Our troubles are over. I have found
+my father's Will and diary. Pelham is the murderer; he is in this house
+now--hunted down."
+
+"Hark!" cried Blanche, clinging to him. "There is some one else in the
+house. That is a woman's scream!"
+
+It was a scream of terrible anguish, uttered by a woman in a moment of
+supreme despair. Every face turned white as that awful cry floated from
+the burning building.
+
+[Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+RETRIBUTION.
+
+
+When Frederick Holdfast turned the key in the lock, Pelham raised his
+head, and looked in alarm at Mrs. Holdfast. She, also, hearing the
+sound, slightly raised herself from the bed upon which she was reclining
+and looked into Pelham's face. Dazed with fear, they remained thus,
+transfixed, gazing at each other, and did not speak for full a minute.
+Then Pelham, with his finger on his lips, looked upward to the ceiling,
+in the supposition that the sound had proceeded from above. For full
+another minute neither of them moved.
+
+"Did you hear anything?" asked Pelham, in a whisper. "Speak low."
+
+"Yes," she replied, trembling with fear.
+
+"What do you think it was?"
+
+"God knows," said the terrified woman. "You told me no person was in the
+house."
+
+"Nor has there been," he said, "nor is there, I believe. But there may
+be rats. We will give up the house to them. What are you staring at, you
+fool?" he cried, turning swiftly round.
+
+"I thought I saw a shadow moving behind you," she whispered.
+
+"There's nothing here."
+
+"No, it's gone. It was my fancy. Pelham, I am frightened."
+
+"What did you come here for? I advised you to go home, but you had the
+devil in you, and would have your way. Let us make an end of this. In
+mischief's name, what's the matter with you now?"
+
+"Hush!" she exclaimed, seizing his hand.
+
+"Well, what is it?" he demanded roughly.
+
+"I heard a whistle outside."
+
+"What of that? Boys whistling in the streets are common enough."
+
+"It was not a boy whistling. It was a shrill sound, as though some one
+was calling men about him."
+
+"Or calling a cab."
+
+"Hark! there it is again."
+
+These were the two whistles by which Frederick summoned the detective.
+
+"It is not a boy whistling a tune," said Pelham, "nor a summons for a
+cab. I don't suppose it concerns us, but you have succeeded in putting a
+stop to my work. I'll do no more. Your dead husband's Will, if he made
+one, and anything else he wrote, will soon be out of reach of living
+man. Now for the finishing touches."
+
+He poured the spirit about the room, and saturated some sheets of paper
+with it, placing them beneath the boards in such a way as to produce an
+effectual blaze the moment a light was applied to them.
+
+"I am quite an artist," he said, laughing. "In five minutes there will
+be a conflagration which will spread too rapidly for a fire engine to
+extinguish until everything on this floor at least is burnt to ashes.
+Grace, old girl, this is a business that suits me; I was never meant
+for milk-and-water work. The house on fire, and we a mile away, and all
+danger will be over."
+
+His gleeful tone jarred upon his guilty associate.
+
+"Work in silence," she said, with a shudder. "Do you forget what was
+done in this room the last time we were here together?"
+
+"Forget!" he exclaimed. "No, I shall never forget. But it does not
+trouble me. Every man for himself--it is nature's law, and he is a
+fool who allows himself to be trampled on and ruined, when he has the
+opportunity of putting his enemy out of the way. Well, it is done, and I
+am going to reap. These last twelve months I have led the life of a dog;
+now I'll live like a gentleman. There! everything is ready. Now for
+escape. Grace, you go first to the top of the house, and wait for me.
+The moment I set fire to this rubbish, I will join you. We will get back
+into the next house, where there will be plenty of people to help to
+save the furniture; we will mix with them, and in the confusion slip
+off. A kiss, Grace, for luck!"
+
+They kissed each other, and she went to the door, and turned the handle,
+but could not open the door. It was fast.
+
+"My God!" she screamed. "We are locked in!"
+
+The full meaning of this flashed instantly upon them.
+
+"Trapped!" cried Pelham, savagely.
+
+He knew well that the game was up, and that nothing short of a miracle
+would save him. The sound they had heard was the clicking of the lock;
+the whistles they had heard were a summons to their pursuers. While they
+had deemed themselves safe, enemies had been watching them. They were
+caught in their own trap.
+
+Pelham strove to force the door open, but had not sufficient strength.
+
+"I am as weak as a rat," he muttered hoarsely, "but there is still a
+chance."
+
+He tore the sheets from the bed, and in an incredibly short space of
+time, working like a madman, knotted them together. His design was to
+escape from the house by the back window, but he could find no hold for
+his rope within the room. As he looked eagerly around he felt himself
+seized by Grace.
+
+"Save me!" she cried, hysterically. "It is there again--the Shadow of
+the man we murdered!"
+
+He shook her off, and in her terror, she slipped back, and overturned
+the candlestick, which was on the floor, with a lighted candle in it.
+The light instantly communicated itself to the spirit and inflammable
+matter which Pelham had scattered about, and the next moment the room
+was in a blaze. Vainly did Pelham strive to beat out the fire. Blinded
+by the smoke, and the flames which presently enveloped them, they
+staggered and stumbled in their tomb of fire, and then it was that Grace
+gave utterance to the terrible cry of anguish which drove the blood from
+the cheeks of the crowd of people surging in Great Porter Square.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+IN WHICH THE "EVENING MOON" GIVES A SEQUEL TO ITS "ROMANCE IN REAL
+LIFE."
+
+
+We have much pleasure (said the _Evening Moon_, two days after the fire)
+in presenting our readers with the last act of a drama which, in plot,
+incident, and extraordinary development of character, equals anything in
+the way of sensationalism which has ever graced theatrical boards. The
+opportunity is an agreeable one to us, as it enables us to do justice
+to a gentleman who has had reason to complain of what has appeared in
+our columns concerning him. What we have to say resolves itself into
+something more than the last act of a drama; it is both that and the
+commencement of a Sequel which, in all human probability, and because
+of the nature of the persons engaged in it, will have a happier ending
+than that which has been closed by the burning down of the house,
+No. 119, Great Porter Square.
+
+In our yesterday's issues we gave the full particulars of that fire.
+No one was injured except the two wretched beings who met their just
+and awful fate in the grave they had prepared for themselves. They
+have passed away from this world, but it will be long before the
+memory of their crime and its involvements will be forgotten. It has
+been determined to pull down the fatal house in which the murder was
+committed, and to rebuild it anew. The house next to it, No. 118,
+occupied by Mrs. Preedy, lodging-house keeper, received some damage
+from the fire; but Mrs. Preedy is fully insured, and her loss will be
+a gain to her--a paradox, but strictly accurate, for the murder in the
+adjoining house had brought hers into disrepute, and her business was
+languishing. It will revive now that the fire has burnt out the terror
+of the crime; and the worthy Mrs. Preedy may congratulate herself
+upon having gained friends in the persons of Mr. Frederick Holdfast
+and the intrepid, noble-hearted lady who will shortly bear his name.
+
+In Mrs. Preedy's house lived an old bedridden lady, Mrs. Bailey,
+whose life was with some difficulty saved. She herself placed serious
+obstacles in the way of her preservation, screaming out when they
+attempted to remove her from her bed. She clung to this household god
+with such tenacity that there was nothing for it but to humour the old
+lady, and to remove it with her. As they carried it down stairs, the
+covering was by an accident ripped, and there rolled out of it between
+thirty and forty sovereigns, which Mrs. Bailey had hoarded up since the
+death of her husband, an event which occurred Heaven knows how many
+years ago. The distress of the old lady was extreme, but the gold was
+picked up and returned to its owner, minus a few sovereigns, which
+somehow had stuck to the fingers of the searchers. She is, however,
+no loser by the accident, as Mr. Frederick Holdfast made good the
+deficiency. It is satisfactory to learn that a cherished tradition
+current in Great Porter Square, that the old lady's mattress was stuffed
+with gold, was verified by the ripping of the sacking. Mrs. Bailey will
+no doubt find another safe for her treasure in the future. The bedridden
+old lady sustained a loss in the burning of a linnet without a note to
+its voice, and a very old bull-finch, whose cage hung at the foot of her
+bed--a sacrifice of life, in addition to the more terrible sacrifice of
+two human beings, which we were almost forgetting to mention.
+
+In another part of our paper will be found a full report of the
+proceedings at the inquest upon the bodies of the man and woman, which
+were found in the back room of No. 119, Great Porter Square. The inquest
+was held this morning, and a verdict of accidental death by burning was
+returned. As a rule such inquests are dull, miserable affairs, and there
+is but little variety in the evidence presented to the coroner and his
+panel, but in this special case were elements of unexpected romance
+which raised it far above the ordinary level of a simple death by
+misadventure.
+
+Last evening a private note was sent to our office, signed by Frederick
+Holdfast, requesting as an act of justice, that the Special Reporter who
+wrote "The Romance of Real Life" from Mrs. Holdfast's account of her
+career and misfortunes, should attend and take whatever notice of the
+proceedings he might deem fit and proper. In accordance with the request
+our Special Reporter attended, and the present report is written by him
+for our paper. The disclosures which were made at the inquest were as
+interesting as they were surprising, and our Reporter thanks Mr.
+Frederick Holdfast for the opportunity afforded him of being present.
+
+At the inquest our Reporter renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Goldberry,
+solicitor, a gentleman whose name will be remembered as having
+voluntarily come forward to defend Antony Cowlrick at the Martin Street
+Police Court, when, upon the barest suspicion, without a tittle of
+direct evidence, that person was accused by the police of the murder of
+a man unknown in No. 119, Great Porter Square. Our readers will remember
+how stoutly, and under what disadvantages, Mr. Goldberry defended the
+man wrongfully accused of the crime; how he protested against the
+numerous remands, and lifted up his voice in the cause of justice
+against Scotland Yard officialism; and how at length, to the manifest
+chagrin of the police, Antony Cowlrick was discharged from custody. The
+particulars of the interview which took place in Leicester Square, a few
+minutes after Antony Cowlrick's departure from the Police Court, between
+our Reporter, Mr. Goldberry, and the accused man, was fully reported
+in our columns. In that interview our Reporter lent Antony Cowlrick a
+sovereign, which was faithfully repaid. We purpose reprinting in a
+pamphlet that report and the "Romance in Real Life," in addition to what
+appears in our present issue relating to the case. They are worthy of
+a record in a more permanent form than the columns of a newspaper.
+
+"Do you remember," said Mr. Goldberry to our Reporter, referring to
+that interview, "that Antony Cowlrick said to me that if at any time he
+should need my services, he would call upon or send for me?"
+
+"I do," replied our Reporter, "and I remember, also, that Antony
+Cowlrick asked you if you thought God would allow the guilty to escape,
+or that He needed the assistance of a lawyer to punish the man who shed
+another's blood."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Goldberry, gravely, "he used those words, and in this
+case they are justified by events. God has punished the murderers
+without the assistance of a lawyer."
+
+"Why do you recall the name of Antony Cowlrick?" inquired our Reporter.
+
+"Because I am here to represent him. He has not only paid me for my past
+services--forcing the money upon me--but he has thanked me for them,
+which, in the bitterness of his heart, he declined to do, although he
+was not asked, when he was finally discharged."
+
+"I had a suspicion," remarked our Reporter, "at that time that he was a
+gentleman; he spoke like one, and had the manner of one. It was chiefly
+for that reason I took an interest in him."
+
+"No, no," said Mr. Goldberry, jocosely; "you wanted copy. Every man to
+his trade."
+
+"I could retort with good effect," said our Reporter, good-humouredly,
+"but I spare you. Will Antony Cowlrick be here this morning?"
+
+"Yes, and others whom you know."
+
+At this moment a lady and a gentleman entered the room in which the
+inquest was held, and advancing to Mr. Goldberry shook hands with him.
+The gentleman was Antony Cowlrick, who, after a few words with his
+lawyer, turned, and offered his hand to our Reporter.
+
+"I must apologise," he said, "for not having kept the half-appointment
+I made with you on the day you so generously lent me the sovereign in
+Leicester Square, but I had my reasons, which you will understand when
+I tell you as much of my story as I think it proper for you to know."
+
+"I attend here," said our Reporter, "on behalf of my paper, in response
+to a letter sent to our editor by Mr. Frederick Holdfast."
+
+"I am Frederick Holdfast," said the gentleman. "Antony Cowlrick was an
+assumed name; I could not use my own when I was falsely accused of the
+murder of my father."
+
+He turned aside with quivering lips, and our Reporter, holding his
+grief in respect, did not intrude upon it. The face of the lady who
+accompanied Frederick Holdfast appeared singularly familiar to our
+Reporter, and his curiosity was presently appeased by Mr. Goldberry, who
+informed him that she was the lady who, by the happiest of chances, met
+Mr. Frederick Holdfast in Leicester Square after his discharge.
+
+"Were she willing to allow herself to be used in such a way," observed
+the lawyer, "her photograph to-morrow could be sold in thousands all
+over England. But she does not belong to that class of woman. She is a
+heroine, in the truest sense of the word. Mrs. Holdfast, who supplied
+you with a Romance in Real Life fit for a novel instead of the columns
+of a newspaper, would not, in such circumstances as these, have
+withstood the temptation. But there are women and women."
+
+"I grant you," said our Reporter, "that I was deceived in the character
+of Mrs. Holdfast. Am I the first who has been beguiled by the soft
+speeches of a fair woman? And, my dear sir, if you want novels and
+romances, take my word for it, you cannot do better than go to the
+columns of a newspaper for them. What has become of Mrs. Holdfast's
+baby?"
+
+"The child will be cared for," replied Mr. Goldberry, "by Frederick
+Holdfast, and will be brought up in ignorance of her mother's crimes."
+
+The proceedings at the inquest commenced languidly, but were soon
+brightened by the extraordinary revelations made by the witnesses. The
+bodies of the two persons burnt to death were identified, and then
+evidence was given, in dramatic sequence, in proof that, at the time of
+their death, the deceased were engaged in unlawful proceedings, and that
+the male deceased had formed a deliberate plan for setting fire to the
+house.
+
+Mrs. Preedy, lodging-house keeper, deposed to the letting of a furnished
+attic to a man who gave the name of Richard Manx, and who spoke like a
+foreigner. The rent of this attic was three shillings a week, but she
+had never seen the colour of Richard Manx's money; he "gave out" to her
+that he was very poor; she had no doubt he was the man who was found
+dead in the next house; neither had she any doubt that it was he who had
+spread the report that her house was haunted, and that he did it to ruin
+her. This witness rambled in her evidence, and caused great laughter by
+her irrelevant replies to questions.
+
+Mrs. Whittaker, lodging-house keeper in Buckingham Palace Road, deposed
+to the letting of her first-floor to Mr. Pelham at a rental of three
+guineas per week. He paid his rent regularly, and she believed him to be
+a gentleman of considerable means. She recognised the body of the male
+deceased as Mr. Pelham.
+
+The principal detective employed by Mr. Frederick Holdfast testified
+that the male body was that of Richard Manx, otherwise Pelham, a
+notorious blackleg; that he had lodged at No. 118, Great Porter Square
+as Richard Manx, and in Buckingham Palace Road as Mr. Pelham; that he
+(the detective) was employed to watch the deceased on suspicion that he
+was implicated in the murder of Mr. Holdfast, senior; that on the night
+of the fire he saw a female enter 118, Great Porter Square, in the
+company of the deceased; and that this female was Mrs. Holdfast, widow
+of the gentleman who had been murdered some months ago.
+
+A sensation was then caused by the appearance of Mr. Frederick Holdfast
+as a witness. He recognised the bodies as those of Mr. Pelham and Mrs.
+Holdfast, his father's second wife. Before his father contracted a
+second marriage he had an acquaintance with the deceased persons in
+Oxford. Mr. Pelham was a blackleg, and had been expelled from the
+company of gentlemen for cheating with dice; and Mrs. Holdfast was a
+woman not entitled to respect. The witness, in reply to questions put
+by his lawyer, Mr. Goldberry, said he was the man who, under the name
+of Antony Cowlrick, had been wrongfully charged at the Martin Street
+Police-court with the murder of a gentleman, who, it was now known, was
+his father; and that he had in his possession evidence in his father's
+handwriting which proved, beyond the possibility of doubt, that his
+father had been murdered by one or both of the deceased. The other
+portions of this witness's evidence, relating to his taking possession
+of the house No. 119 Great Porter Square, and to the watch he set upon
+Mr. Pelham's movements, are fully detailed in our verbatim report of
+the inquest, and will be found most startling and dramatic.
+
+Even more dramatic was the evidence of the next witness, Blanche
+Daffarn, Mr. Frederick Holdfast's _fiancée_, a young lady of great
+personal attractions. For the purpose of clearing her lover from the
+dreadful accusation brought against him, she had disguised herself as a
+servant, and had taken service as a maid-of-all-work with Mrs. Preedy.
+It was through her instrumentality that Pelham and Richard Manx were
+discovered to be one and the same person, and had it not been for her
+courage and devotion there is but little doubt that the guilty ones
+would have escaped. She gave her evidence with clearness and modesty,
+and she was frequently interrupted by murmurs of applause, which the
+Coroner did not attempt to suppress.
+
+It might have been supposed that the climax of interest was reached when
+the fair witness, towards whom every face in the room was turned in
+admiration, took her seat; but it was not; a higher point was attained
+upon the appearance of a little girl, a mere child, whom our Reporter
+at once recognised as Fanny, a match girl, with whom our readers have
+already made acquaintance. The brightness, the vivacity, and the
+adventures of this little waif in connection with the case, no less than
+her sensibility and gratitude towards her guardian angel, Miss Blanche
+Daffarn, produced a profound impression. It would be hard to say whether
+tears or smiles predominated while this intelligent and grateful child
+stood before the Coroner; both were freely produced by the wonderful
+touches of nature which gleamed through little Fanny's narrative, which
+she was allowed to relate almost without interruption from Coroner and
+jury. It is pleasant to be able to state that Fanny's future is made
+safe; Mr. Frederick Holdfast and his _fiancée_ are her protectors. The
+child is rescued from the gin shop and the gutter.
+
+The inquest was over, and still the persons in the crowded room lingered
+for a parting glance at those who had played their parts in the strange
+and varied drama. The interest in the proceedings had extended beyond
+the Court, and a large concourse of persons had gathered outside, eager
+to see the brave young lady and the child, whose names will be mentioned
+in terms of admiration in every home in the kingdom. Such is the power
+of the newspaper. To convey to remote distances, into village and city,
+to the firesides of the poor and the rich, the records of ennobling
+deeds, and to cause "God bless you little Fanny!" "May you live happy
+lives, Frederick and Blanche!" to be breathed by the millions whose
+hearts shall be stirred by this story of love and crime, of cunning
+which over-reached itself and suffering which blossomed into sweetness,
+the last scenes of which were enacted in a common lodging-house in Great
+Porter Square.
+
+
+_THE END._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note
+
+
+Words in italics have been surrounded by _underscores_ and small
+capitals have been changed to all capitals.
+
+Punctuation errors have been corrected silently. Also the
+following corrections have been made, on page
+
+   iv "XLIV" changed to "XLVI" (XLVI.--In which the "Evening Moon"
+      gives a sequel)
+   12 "be" changed to "he" (in secret to kill the father he betrayed!)
+   23 "the the" changed to "the" (raised the child's head)
+   32 "sindirect" changed to "indirect" (in an indirect way)
+   50 "were" changed to "where" (into the shop where people are served)
+   84 "Mr." changed to "Mrs." (gave her to deliver to Mrs. Holdfast)
+  165 "thoughful" changed to "thoughtful" (Kind, thoughtful husband)
+  189 "a" changed to "as" (in as few words as possible)
+  229 "in in" changed to "in" (what appears in our present issue).
+
+Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistent
+spelling and hyphenation.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Great Porter Square, v. 3, by
+Benjamin Leopold Farjeon
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42907 ***