After Dark

by Wilkie Collins

  THE LAWYER'S STORY OF A STOLEN LETTER.

  I served my time--never mind in whose office--and I started in businessfor myself in one of our English country towns, I decline stating which.I hadn't a farthing of capital, and my friends in the neighborhood werepoor and useless enough, with one exception. That exception was Mr.Frank Gatliffe, son of Mr. Gatliffe, member for the county, the richestman and the proudest for many a mile round about our parts. Stop a bit,Mr. Artist, you needn't perk up and look knowing. You won't trace anyparticulars by the name of Gatliffe. I'm not bound to commit myself oranybody else by mentioning names. I have given you the first that cameinto my head.

  Well, Mr. Frank was a stanch friend of mine, and ready to recommend mewhenever he got the chance. I had contrived to get him a little timelyhelp--for a consideration, of course--in borrowing money at a fairrate of interest; in fact, I had saved him from the Jews. The money wasborrowed while Mr. Frank was at college. He came back from college, andstopped at home a little while, and then there got spread about all ourneighborhood a report that he had fallen in love, as the saying is, withhis young sister's governess, and that his mind was made up to marryher. What! you're at it again, Mr. Artist! You want to know her name,don't you? What do you think of Smith?

  Speaking as a lawyer, I consider report, in a general way, to be a fooland a liar. But in this case report turned out to be something verydifferent. Mr. Frank told me he was really in love, and said upon hishonor (an absurd expression which young chaps of his age are alwaysusing) he was determined to marry Smith, the governess--the sweet,darling girl, as _he_ called her; but I'm not sentimental, and _I_ callher Smith, the governess. Well, Mr. Frank's father, being as proud asLucifer, said "No," as to marrying the governess, when Mr. Frank wantedhim to say "Yes." He was a man of business, was old Gatliffe, and hetook the proper business course. He sent the governess away with afirst-rate character and a spanking present, and then he, looked abouthim to get something for Mr. Frank to do. While he was looking about,Mr. Frank bolted to London after the governess, who had nobody alivebelonging to her to go to but an aunt--her father's sister. The auntrefuses to let Mr. Frank in without the squire's permission. Mr. Frankwrites to his father, and says he will marry the girl as soon as he isof age, or shoot himself. Up to town comes the squire and his wife andhis daughter, and a lot of sentimentality, not in the slightest degreematerial to the present statement, takes places among them; and theupshot of it is that old Gatliffe is forced into withdrawing the wordNo, and substituting the word Yes.

  I don't believe he would ever have done it, though, but for one luckypeculiarity in the case. The governess's father was a man of goodfamily--pretty nigh as good as Gatliffe's own. He had been in the army;had sold out; set up as a wine-merchant--failed--died; ditto his wife,as to the dying part of it. No relation, in fact, left for the squireto make inquiries about but the father's sister--who had behaved, asold Gatliffe said, like a thorough-bred gentlewoman in shutting the dooragainst Mr. Frank in the first instance. So, to cut the matter short,things were at last made up pleasant enough. The time was fixed for thewedding, and an announcement about it--Marriage in High Life and allthat--put into the county paper. There was a regular biography, besides,of the governess's father, so as to stop people from talking--a greatflourish about his pedigree, and a long account of his services inthe army; but not a word, mind ye, of his having turned wine-merchantafterward. Oh, no--not a word about that!

  I knew it, though, for Mr. Frank told me. He hadn't a bit of pride abouthim. He introduced me to his future wife one day when I met him outwalking, and asked me if I did not think he was a lucky fellow. I don'tmind admitting that I did, and that I told him so. Ah! but she was oneof my sort, was that governess. Stood, to the best of my recollection,five foot four. Good lissom figure, that looked as if it had never beenboxed up in a pair of stays. Eyes that made me feel as if I was undera pretty stiff cross-examination the moment she looked at me. Fine red,kiss-and-come-again sort of lips. Cheeks and complexion--No, Mr. Artist,you wouldn't identify her by her cheeks and complexion, if I drew you apicture of them this very moment. She has had a family of children sincethe time I'm talking of; and her cheeks are a trifle fatter, and hercomplexion is a shade or two redder now, than when I first met her outwalking with Mr. Frank.

  The marriage was to take place on a Wednesday. I decline mentioning theyear or the month. I had started as an attorney on my own account--saysix weeks, more or less, and was sitting alone in my office on theMonday morning before the wedding-day, trying to see my way clear beforeme and not succeeding particularly well, when Mr. Frank suddenly burstsin, as white as any ghost that ever was painted, and says he's gotthe most dreadful case for me to advise on, and not an hour to lose inacting on my advice.

  "Is this in the way of business, Mr. Frank?" says I, stopping him justas he was beginning to get sentimental. "Yes or no, Mr. Frank?" rappingmy new office paper-knife on the table, to pull him up short all thesooner.

  "My dear fellow"--he was always familiar with me--"it's in the way ofbusiness, certainly; but friendship--"

  I was obliged to pull him up short again, and regularly examine him asif he had been in the witness-box, or he would have kept me talking tono purpose half the day.

  "Now, Mr. Frank," says I, "I can't have any sentimentality mixed up withbusiness matters. You please to stop talking, and let me ask questions.Answer in the fewest words you can use. Nod when nodding will do insteadof words."

  I fixed him with my eye for about three seconds, as he sat groaning andwriggling in his chair. When I'd done fixing him, I gave another rapwith my paper-knife on the table to startle him up a bit. Then I wenton.

  "From what you have been stating up to the present time," says I, "Igather that you are in a scrape which is likely to interfere seriouslywith your marriage on Wednesday?"

  (He nodded, and I cut in again before he could say a word):

  "The scrape affects your young lady, and goes back to the period of atransaction in which her late father was engaged, doesn't it?"

  (He nods, and I cut in once more):

  "There is a party, who turned up after seeing the announcement of yourmarriage in the paper, who is cognizant of what he oughtn't to know, andwho is prepared to use his knowledge of the same to the prejudice of theyoung lady and of your marriage, unless he receives a sum of money toquiet him? Very well. Now, first of all, Mr. Frank, state what you havebeen told by the young lady herself about the transaction of her latefather. How did you first come to have any knowledge of it?"

  "She was talking to me about her father one day so tenderly andprettily, that she quite excited my interest about him," begins Mr.Frank; "and I asked her, among other things, what had occasioned hisdeath. She said she believed it was distress of mind in the firstinstance; and added that this distress was connected with a shockingsecret, which she and her mother had kept from everybody, but which shecould not keep from me, because she was determined to begin her marriedlife by having no secrets from her husband." Here Mr. Frank began toget sentimental again, and I pulled him up short once more with thepaper-knife.

  "She told me," Mr. Frank went on, "that the great mistake of herfather's life was his selling out of the army and taking to the winetrade. He had no talent for business; things went wrong with him fromthe first. His clerk, it was strongly suspected, cheated him--"

  "Stop a bit," says I. "What was that suspected clerk's name?"

  "Davager," says he.

  "Davager," says I, making a note of it. "Go on, Mr. Frank."

  "His affairs got more and more entangled," says Mr. Frank; "he waspressed for money in all directions; bankruptcy, and consequent dishonor(as he considered it) stared him in the face. His mind was so affectedby his troubles that both his wife and daughter, toward the last,considered him to be hardly responsible for his own acts. In this stateof desperation and misery, he--" Here Mr. Frank began to hesitate.

  We have two ways in the law of drawing evidence off nice and clear froman u
nwilling client or witness. We give him a fright, or we treat him toa joke. I treated Mr. Frank to a joke.

  "Ah!" says I, "I know what he did. He had a signature to write; and, bythe most natural mistake in the world, he wrote another gentleman's nameinstead of his own--eh?"

  "It was to a bill," says Mr. Frank, looking very crestfallen, insteadof taking the joke. "His principal creditor wouldn't wait till he couldraise the money, or the greater part of it. But he was resolved, if hesold off everything, to get the amount and repay--"

  "Of course," says I, "drop that. The forgery was discovered. When?"

  "Before even the first attempt was made to negotiate the bill. He haddone the whole thing in the most absurdly and innocently wrong way. Theperson whose name he had used was a stanch friend of his, and a relationof his wife's--a good man as well as a rich one. He had influence withthe chief creditor, and he used it nobly. He had a real affection forthe unfortunate man's wife, and he proved it generously."

  "Come to the point," says I. "What did he do? In a business way, whatdid he do?"

  "He put the false bill into the fire, drew a bill of his own to replaceit, and then--only then--told my dear girl and her mother all that hadhappened. Can you imagine anything nobler?" asks Mr. Frank.

  "Speaking in my professional capacity, I can't imagine anythinggreener," says I. "Where was the father? Off, I suppose?"

  "Ill in bed," says Mr. Frank, coloring. "But he mustered strength enoughto write a contrite and grateful letter the same day, promising to provehimself worthy of the noble moderation and forgiveness extended to him,by selling off everything he possessed to repay his money debt. Hedid sell off everything, down to some old family pictures that wereheirlooms; down to the little plate he had; down to the very tables andchairs that furnished his drawing-room. Every farthing of the debtwas paid; and he was left to begin the world again, with the kindestpromises of help from the generous man who had forgiven him. It wastoo late. His crime of one rash moment--atoned for though it hadbeen--preyed upon his mind. He became possessed with the idea that hehad lowered himself forever in the estimation of his wife and daughter,and--"

  "He died," I cut in. "Yes, yes, we know that. Let's go back for a minuteto the contrite and grateful letter that he wrote. My experience inthe law, Mr. Frank, has convinced me that if everybody burned everybodyelse's letters, half the courts of justice in this country might shutup shop. Do you happen to know whether the letter we are now speaking ofcontained anything like an avowal or confession of the forgery?"

  "Of course it did," says he. "Could the writer express his contritionproperly without making some such confession?"

  "Quite easy, if he had been a lawyer," says I. "But never mind that; I'mgoing to make a guess--a desperate guess, mind. Should I be altogetherin error if I thought that this letter had been stolen; and that thefingers of Mr. Davager, of suspicious commercial celebrity, mightpossibly be the fingers which took it?"

  "That is exactly what I wanted to make you understand," cried Mr. Frank.

  "How did he communicate the interesting fact of the theft to you?"

  "He has not ventured into my presence. The scoundrel actually had theaudacity--"

  "Aha!" says I. "The young lady herself! Sharp practitioner, Mr.Davager."

  "Early this morning, when she was walking alone in the shrubbery," Mr.Frank goes on, "he had the assurance to approach her, and to say thathe had been watching his opportunity of getting a private interviewfor days past. He then showed her--actually showed her--her unfortunatefather's letter; put into her hands another letter directed to me;bowed, and walked off; leaving her half dead with astonishment andterror. If I had only happened to be there at the time!" says Mr. Frank,shaking his fist murderously in the air, by way of a finish.

  "It's the greatest luck in the world that you were not," says I. "Haveyou got that other letter?"

  He handed it to me. It was so remarkably humorous and short, that Iremember every word of it at this distance of time. It began in thisway:

  _"To Francis Gatliffe, Esq., Jun._

  "SIR--I have an extremely curious autograph letter to sell. The price isa five-hundred-pound note. The young lady to whom you are to be marriedon Wednesday will inform you of the nature of the letter, and thegenuineness of the autograph. If you refuse to deal, I shall send a copyto the local paper, and shall wait on your highly-respected father withthe original curiosity, on the afternoon of Tuesday next. Having comedown here on family business, I have put up at the family hotel--beingto be heard of at the Gatliffe Arms. Your very obedient servant, ALFREDDAVAGER."

  "A clever fellow that," says I, putting the letter into my privatedrawer.

  "Clever!" cries Mr. Frank, "he ought to be horsewhipped within an inchof his life. I would have done it myself; but she made me promise,before she told me a word of the matter, to come straight to you."

  "That was one of the wisest promises you ever made," says I. "We can'tafford to bully this fellow, whatever else we may do with him. Do youthink I am saying anything libelous against your excellent father'scharacter when I assert that if he saw the letter he would certainlyinsist on your marriage being put off, at the very least?"

  "Feeling as my father does about my marriage, he would insist on itsbeing dropped altogether, if he saw this letter," says Mr. Frank, witha groan. "But even that is not the worst of it. The generous, noblegirl herself says that if the letter appears in the paper, with all theunanswerable comments this scoundrel would be sure to add to it, shewould rather die than hold me to my engagement, even if my father wouldlet me keep it."

  As he said this his eyes began to water. He was a weak young fellow, andridiculously fond of her. I brought him back to business with anotherrap of the paper-knife.

  "Hold up, Mr. Frank," says I. "I have a question or two more. Did youthink of asking the young lady whether, to the best of her knowledge,this infernal letter was the only written evidence of the forgery now inexistence?"

  "Yes, I did think directly of asking her that," says he; "and she toldme she was quite certain that there was no written evidence of theforgery except that one letter."

  "Will you give Mr. Davager his price for it?" says I.

  "Yes," says Mr. Frank, quite peevish with me for asking him such aquestion. He was an easy young chap in money matters, and talked ofhundreds as most men talk of sixpences.

  "Mr. Frank," says I, "you came here to get my help and advice in thisextremely ticklish business, and you are ready, as I know withoutasking, to remunerate me for all and any of my services at the usualprofessional rate. Now, I've made up my mind to act boldly--desperately,if you like--on the hit or miss, win all or lose all principle--indealing with this matter. Here is my proposal. I'm going to try ifI can't do Mr. Davager out of his letter. If I don't succeed beforeto-morrow afternoon, you hand him the money, and I charge you nothingfor professional services. If I do succeed, I hand you the letterinstead of Mr. Davager, and you give me the money instead of giving itto him. It's a precious risk for me, but I'm ready to run it. You mustpay your five hundred any way. What do you say to my plan? Is it Yes,Mr. Frank, or No?"

  "Hang your questions!" cries Mr. Frank, jumping up; "you know it's Yesten thousand times over. Only you earn the money and--"

  "And you will be too glad to give it to me. Very good. Now go home.Comfort the young lady--don't let Mr. Davager so much as set eyes onyou--keep quiet--leave everything to me--and feel as certain as youplease that all the letters in the world can't stop your being marriedon Wednesday." With these words I hustled him off out of the office, forI wanted to be left alone to make my mind up about what I should do.

  The first thing, of course, was to have a look at the enemy. I wrote toMr. Davager, telling him that I was privately appointed to arrange thelittle business matter between himself and "another party" (no names!)on friendly terms; and begging him to call on me at his earliestconvenience. At the very beginning of the case, Mr. Davager botheredme. His answer was, that it would not be convenient to h
im to call tillbetween six and seven in the evening. In this way, you see, he contrivedto make me lose several precious hours, at a time when minutes almostwere of importance. I had nothing for it but to be patient, and to givecertain instructions, before Mr. Davager came, to my boy Tom.

  There never was such a sharp boy of fourteen before, and there neverwill be again, as my boy Tom. A spy to look after Mr. Davager was, ofcourse, the first requisite in a case of this kind; and Tom was thesmallest, quickest, quietest, sharpest, stealthiest little snake of achap that ever dogged a gentleman's steps and kept cleverly out of rangeof a gentleman's eyes. I settled it with the boy that he was not to showat all when Mr. Davager came; and that he was to wait to hear me ringthe bell when Mr. Davager left. If I rang twice, he was to show thegentleman out. If I rang once, he was to keep out of the way, and followthe gentleman whereever he went till he got back to the inn. Those werethe only preparations I could make to begin with; being obliged to wait,and let myself be guided by what turned up.

  About a quarter to seven my gentleman came.

  In the profession of the law we get somehow quite remarkably mixed upwith ugly people, blackguard people, and dirty people. But far away theugliest and dirtiest blackguard I ever saw in my life was Mr. AlfredDavager. He had greasy white hair and a mottled face. He was low in theforehead, fat in the stomach, hoarse in the voice, and weak in the legs.Both his eyes were bloodshot, and one was fixed in his head. He smelledof spirits, and carried a toothpick in his mouth. "How are you? I'vejust done dinner," says he; and he lights a cigar, sits down with hislegs crossed, and winks at me.

  I tried at first to take the measure of him in a wheedling, confidentialway; but it was no good. I asked him, in a facetious, smiling manner,how he had got hold of the letter. He only told me in answer that he hadbeen in the confidential employment of the writer of it, and that he hadalways been famous since infancy for a sharp eye to his own interests.I paid him some compliments; but he was not to be flattered. I tried tomake him lose his temper; but he kept it in spite of me. It ended in hisdriving me to my last resource--I made an attempt to frighten him.

  "Before we say a word about the money," I began, "let me put a case,Mr. Davager. The pull you have on Mr. Francis Gatliffe is, that you canhinder his marriage on Wednesday. Now, suppose I have got a magistrate'swarrant to apprehend you in my pocket? Suppose I have a constable toexecute it in the next room? Suppose I bring you up to-morrow--the daybefore the marriage--charge you only generally with an attempt to extortmoney, and apply for a day's remand to complete the case? Suppose, as asuspicious stranger, you can't get bail in this town? Suppose--"

  "Stop a bit," says Mr. Davager. "Suppose I should not be the greenestfool that ever stood in shoes? Suppose I should not carry the letterabout me? Suppose I should have given a certain envelope to a certainfriend of mine in a certain place in this town? Suppose the lettershould be inside that envelope, directed to old Gatliffe, side by sidewith a copy of the letter directed to the editor of the local paper?Suppose my friend should be instructed to open the envelope, and takethe letters to their right address, if I don't appear to claim themfrom him this evening? In short, my dear sir, suppose you were bornyesterday, and suppose I wasn't?" says Mr. Davager, and winks at meagain.

  He didn't take me by surprise, for I never expected that he had theletter about him. I made a pretense of being very much taken aback,and of being quite ready to give in. We settled our business aboutdelivering the letter, and handing over the money, in no time. I wasto draw out a document, which he was to sign. He knew the documentwas stuff and nonsense, just as well as I did, and told me I was onlyproposing it to swell my client's bill. Sharp as he was, he was wrongthere. The document was not to be drawn out to gain money from Mr.Frank, but to gain time from Mr. Davager. It served me as an excuse toput off the payment of the five hundred pounds till three o'clock on theTuesday afternoon. The Tuesday morning Mr. Davager said he shoulddevote to his amusement, and asked me what sights were to be seen in theneighborhood of the town. When I had told him, he pitched his toothpickinto my grate, yawned, and went out.

  I rang the bell once--waited till he had passed the window--and thenlooked after Tom. There was my jewel of a boy on the opposite sideof the street, just setting his top going in the most playful mannerpossible. Mr. Davager walked away up the street toward the market-place.Tom whipped his top up the street toward the market-place, too.

  In a quarter of an hour he came back, with all his evidence collectedin a beautifully clear and compact state. Mr. Davager had walked to apublic-house just outside the town, in a lane leading to the highroad.On a bench outside the public-house there sat a man smoking. He said"All right?" and gave a letter to Mr. Davager, who answered "All right!"and walked back to the inn. In the hall he ordered hot rum-and-water,cigars, slippers, and a fire to be lit in his room. After that he wentupstairs, and Tom came away.

  I now saw my road clear before me--not very far on, but still clear.I had housed the letter, in all probability for that night, at theGatliffe Arms. After tipping Tom, I gave him directions to play aboutthe door of the inn, and refresh himself when he was tired at thetart-shop opposite, eating as much as he pleased, on the understandingthat he crammed all the time with his eye on the window. If Mr. Davagerwent out, or Mr. Davager's friend called on him, Tom was to let me know.He was also to take a little note from me to the head chambermaid--anold friend of mine--asking her to step over to my office, on a privatematter of business, as soon as her work was done for that night. Aftersettling these little matters, having half an hour to spare, I turnedto and did myself a bloater at the office fire, and had a drop ofgin-and-water hot, and felt comparatively happy.

  When the head chambermaid came, it turned out, as good luck would haveit, that Mr. Davager had drawn her attention rather too closely to hisugliness, by offering her a testimony of his regard in the shape of akiss. I no sooner mentioned him than she flew into a passion; and when Iadded, by way of clinching the matter, that I was retained to defendthe interests of a very beautiful and deserving young lady (name notreferred to, of course) against the most cruel underhand treacheryon the part of Mr. Davager, the head chambermaid was ready to go anylengths that she could safely to serve my cause. In a few words Idiscovered that Boots was to call Mr. Davager at eight the next morning,and was to take his clothes downstairs to brush as usual. If Mr. D------had not emptied his own pockets overnight, we arranged that Boots wasto forget to empty them for him, and was to bring the clothes downstairsjust as he found them. If Mr. D------'s pockets were emptied, then, ofcourse, it would be necessary to transfer the searching process toMr. D------'s room. Under any circumstances, I was certain of the headchambermaid; and under any circumstances, also, the head chambermaid wascertain of Boots.

  I waited till Tom came home, looking very puffy and bilious about theface; but as to his intellects, if anything, rather sharper than ever.His report was uncommonly short and pleasant. The inn was shuttingup; Mr. Davager was going to bed in rather a drunken condition; Mr.Davager's friend had never appeared. I sent Tom (properly instructedabout keeping our man in view all the next morning) to his shake-downbehind the office-desk, where I heard him hiccoughing half the night, aseven the best boys will, when over-excited and too full of tarts.

  At half-past seven next morning, I slipped quietly into Boots's pantry.

  Down came the clothes. No pockets in trousers. Waistcoat-pockets empty.Coat-pockets with something in them. First, handkerchief; secondly,bunch of keys; thirdly, cigar-case; fourthly, pocketbook. Of course Iwasn't such a fool as to expect to find the letter there, but I openedthe pocketbook with a certain curiosity, notwithstanding.

  Nothing in the two pockets of the book but some old advertisements cutout of newspapers, a lock of hair tied round with a dirty bit of ribbon,a circular letter about a loan society, and some copies of verses notlikely to suit any company that was not of an extremely free-and-easydescription. On the leaves of the pocketbook, people's addressesscrawled in pencil, and
bets jotted down in red ink. On one leaf, byitself, this queer inscription:

  "MEM. 5 ALONG. 4 ACROSS."

  I understood everything but those words and figures, so of course Icopied them out into my own book.

  Then I waited in the pantry till Boots had brushed the clothes, and hadtaken them upstairs. His report when he came down was, that Mr. D------had asked if it was a fine morning. Being told that it was, he hadordered breakfast at nine, and a saddle-horse to be at the door at ten,to take him to Grimwith Abbey--one of the sights in our neighborhoodwhich I had told him of the evening before.

  "I'll be here, coming in by the back way, at half-past ten," says I tothe head chambermaid.

  "What for?" says she.

  "To take the responsibility of making Mr. Davager's bed off your handsfor this morning only," says I.

  "Any more orders?" says she.

  "One more," says I. "I want to hire Sam for the morning. Put it down inthe order-book that he's to be brought round to my office at ten."

  In case you should think Sam was a man, I'd better perhaps tell you hewas a pony. I'd made up my mind that it would be beneficial to Tom'shealth, after the tarts, if he took a constitutional airing on a nicehard saddle in the direction of Grimwith Abbey.

  "Anything else?" says the head chambermaid.

  "Only one more favor," says I. "Would my boy Tom be very much in theway if he came, from now till ten, to help with the boots and shoes,and stood at his work close by this window which looks out on thestaircase?"

  "Not a bit," says the head chambermaid.

  "Thank you," says I; and stepped back to my office directly.

  When I had sent Tom off to help with the boots and shoes, I reviewed thewhole case exactly as it stood at that time.

  There were three things Mr. Davager might do with the letter. He mightgive it to his friend again before ten--in which case Tom would mostlikely see the said friend on the stairs. He might take it to hisfriend, or to some other friend, after ten--in which case Tom was readyto follow him on Sam the pony. And, lastly, he might leave it hiddensomewhere in his room at the inn--in which case I was all ready forhim with a search-warrant of my own granting, under favor always of myfriend the head chambermaid. So far I had my business arrangements allgathered up nice and compact in my own hands. Only two things botheredme; the terrible shortness of the time at my disposal, in case I failedin my first experiments, for getting hold of the letter, and that queerinscription which I had copied out of the pocketbook:

  "MEM. 5 ALONG. 4 ACROSS."

  It was the measurement most likely of something, and he was afraid offorgetting it; therefore it was something important. Query--somethingabout himself? Say "5" (inches) "along"--he doesn't wear a wig. Say "5"(feet) "along"--it can't be coat, waistcoat, trousers, or underclothing.Say "5" (yards) "along"--it can't be anything about himself, unless hewears round his body the rope that he's sure to be hanged with one ofthese days. Then it is _not_ something about himself. What do I know ofthat is important to him besides? I know of nothing but the Letter. Canthe memorandum be connected with that? Say, yes. What do "5 along" and"4 across" mean, then? The measurement of something he carries aboutwith him? or the measurement of something in his room? I could getpretty satisfactorily to myself as far as that; but I could get nofurther.

  Tom came back to the office, and reported him mounted for his ride.His friend had never appeared. I sent the boy off, with his properinstructions, on Sam's back--wrote an encouraging letter to Mr. Frankto keep him quiet--then slipped into the inn by the back way a littlebefore half-past ten. The head chambermaid gave me a signal when thelanding was clear. I got into his room without a soul but her seeing me,and locked the door immediately.

  The case was, to a certain extent, simplified now. Either Mr. Davagerhad ridden out with the letter about him, or he had left it in some safehiding-place in his room. I suspected it to be in his room, for a reasonthat will a little astonish you--his trunk, his dressing-case, and allthe drawers and cupboards, were left open. I knew my customer, and Ithought this extraordinary carelessness on his part rather suspicious.

  Mr. Davager had taken one of the best bedrooms at the Gatliffe Arms.Floor carpeted all over, walls beautifully papered, four-poster, andgeneral furniture first-rate. I searched, to begin with, on the usualplan, examining everything in every possible way, and taking more thanan hour about it. No discovery. Then I pulled out a carpenter'srule which I had brought with me. Was there anything in the roomwhich--either in inches, feet, or yards--answered to "5 along" and "4across"? Nothing. I put the rule back in my pocket--measurement was nogood, evidently. Was there anything in the room that would count up to 5one way and 4 another, seeing that nothing would measure up to it? I hadgot obstinately persuaded by this time that the letter must be in theroom--principally because of the trouble I had had in looking afterit. And persuading myself of that, I took it into my head next, justas obstinately, that "5 along" and "4 across" must be the right clew tofind the letter by--principally because I hadn't left myself, after allmy searching and thinking, even so much as the ghost of another guideto go by. "Five along"--where could I count five along the room, in anypart of it?

  Not on the paper. The pattern there was pillars of trellis-work andflowers, inclosing a plain green ground--only four pillars along thewall and only two across. The furniture? There were not five chairsor five separate pieces of any furniture in the room altogether. Thefringes that hung from the cornice of the bed? Plenty of them, at anyrate! Up I jumped on the counterpane, with my pen-knife in my hand.Every way that "5 along" and "4 across" could be reckoned on thoseunlucky fringes I reckoned on them--probed with my penknife--scratchedwith my nails--crunched with my fingers. No use; not a sign of a letter;and the time was getting on--oh, Lord! how the time did get on in Mr.Davager's room that morning.

  I jumped down from the bed, so desperate at my ill luck that I hardlycared whether anybody heard me or not. Quite a little cloud of dust roseat my feet as they thumped on the carpet.

  "Hullo!" thought I, "my friend the head chambermaid takes it easy here.Nice state for a carpet to be in, in one of the best bedrooms at theGatliffe Arms." Carpet! I had been jumping up on the bed, and staringup at the walls, but I had never so much as given a glance down at thecarpet. Think of me pretending to be a lawyer, and not knowing how tolook low enough!

  The carpet! It had been a stout article in its time, had evidently beganin a drawing-room; then descended to a coffee-room; then gone upstairsaltogether to a bedroom. The ground was brown, and the pattern wasbunches of leaves and roses speckled over the ground at regulardistances. I reckoned up the bunches. Ten along the room--eight acrossit. When I had stepped out five one way and four the other, and was downon my knees on the center bunch, as true as I sit on this chair I couldhear my own heart beating so loud that it quite frightened me.

  I looked narrowly all over the bunch, and I felt all over it with theends of my fingers, and nothing came of that. Then I scraped it overslowly and gently with my nails. My second finger-nail stuck a littleat one place. I parted the pile of the carpet over that place, and sawa thin slit which had been hidden by the pile being smoothed over it--aslit about half an inch long, with a little end of brown thread, exactlythe color of the carpet ground, sticking out about a quarter of an inchfrom the middle of it. Just as I laid hold of the thread gently, I hearda footstep outside the door.

  It was only the head chambermaid. "Haven't you done yet?" she whispers.

  "Give me two minutes," says I, "and don't let anybody come near thedoor--whatever you do, don't let anybody startle me again by coming nearthe door."

  I took a little pull at the thread, and heard something rustle. I tooka longer pull, and out came a piece of paper, rolled up tight like thosecandle-lighters that the ladies make. I unrolled it--and, by George!there was the letter!

  The original letter! I knew it by the color of the ink. The letter thatwas worth five hundred pounds to me! It was all that I could do to keepmyself at first fr
om throwing my hat into the air, and hurrahing likemad. I had to take a chair and sit quiet in it for a minute or two,before I could cool myself down to my proper business level. I knew thatI was safely down again when I found myself pondering how to let Mr.Davager know that he had been done by the innocent country attorney,after all.

  It was not long before a nice little irritating plan occurred to me.I tore a blank leaf out of my pocketbook, wrote on it with my pencil,"Change for a five-hundred-pound note," folded up the paper, tied thethread to it, poked it back into the hiding-place, smoothed over thepile of the carpet, and then bolted off to Mr. Frank. He in his turnbolted off to show the letter to the young lady, who first certifiedto its genuineness, then dropped it into the fire, and then took theinitiative for the first time since her marriage engagement, by flingingher arms round his neck, kissing him with all her might, and going intohysterics in his arms. So at least Mr. Frank told me, but that's notevidence. It is evidence, however, that I saw them married with myown eyes on the Wednesday; and that while they went off in acarriage-and-four to spend the honeymoon, I went off on my own legs toopen a credit at the Town and County Bank with a five-hundred-pound notein my pocket.

  As to Mr. Davager, I can tell you nothing more about him, except what isderived from hearsay evidence, which is always unsatisfactory evidence,even in a lawyer's mouth.

  My inestimable boy, Tom, although twice kicked off by Sam the pony,never lost hold of the bridle, and kept his man in sight from first tolast. He had nothing particular to report except that on the way out tothe Abbey Mr. Davager had stopped at the public-house, had spoken a wordor two to his friend of the night before, and had handed him what lookedlike a bit of paper. This was no doubt a clew to the thread that heldthe letter, to be used in case of accidents. In every other respect Mr.D. had ridden out and ridden in like an ordinary sightseer. Tom reportedhim to me as having dismounted at the hotel about two. At half-past Ilocked my office door, nailed a card under the knocker with "not at hometill to-morrow" written on it, and retired to a friend's house a mile orso out of the town for the rest of the day.

  Mr. Davager, I have been since given to understand, left the GatliffeArms that same night with his best clothes on his back, and with allthe valuable contents of his dressing-case in his pockets. I am not ina condition to state whether he ever went through the form of asking forhis bill or not; but I can positively testify that he never paid it, andthat the effects left in his bedroom did not pay it either. When I addto these fragments of evidence that he and I have never met (luckily forme, you will say) since I jockeyed him out of his banknote, I have aboutfulfilled my implied contract as maker of a statement with you, sir, ashearer of a statement. Observe the expression, will you? I said it wasa Statement before I began; and I say it's a Statement now I've done. Idefy you to prove it's a Story! How are you getting on with my portrait?I like you very well, Mr. Artist; but if you have been taking advantageof my talking to shirk your work, as sure as you're alive I'll splitupon you to the Town Council!

  I attended a great many times at my queer sitter's house before hislikeness was completed. To the last he was dissatisfied with theprogress I made. Fortunately for me, the Town Council approved of theportrait when it was done. Mr. Boxsious, however, objected to them asbeing much too easy to please. He did not dispute the fidelity of thelikeness, but he asserted that I had not covered the canvas with halfpaint enough for my money. To this day (for he is still alive), hedescribes me to all inquiring friends as "The Painter-Man who jockeyedthe Town Council."