diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42907-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42907-8.txt | 4734 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 4734 deletions
diff --git a/42907-8.txt b/42907-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4d95164..0000000 --- a/42907-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4734 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Great Porter Square, v. 3, by Benjamin Leopold Farjeon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Great Porter Square, v. 3 - A Mystery. - -Author: Benjamin Leopold Farjeon - -Release Date: June 10, 2013 [EBook #42907] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT PORTER SQUARE, V. 3 *** - - - - -Produced by eagkw, Robert Cicconetti and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - 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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GREAT PORTER SQUARE, V. 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 42907-8.txt or 42907-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/9/0/42907/ - -Produced by eagkw, Robert Cicconetti and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |