Dorothy's Double. Volume 3 (of 3)

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XIX

  Mr. Hawtrey made but a few hours' stay in London, Dorothy urging herfather to leave at once for home. He would have preferred stopping for aday or two to confer with Mr. Charles Levine, and to get the matter withthe jeweller settled before he went North, but Dorothy pressed the pointso much that he gave way.

  'What is the use, father,' she urged, 'of employing people to do yourlaw business and then doing it yourself? I should think when Gilliatsees a copy of those papers Mr. Danvers sent us, he will be convincedthat he has been wrong all through, but even if he isn't, you could notargue the matter with him. Mr. Levine could say a great deal more thanyou could. I quite understand, from what you told me, that there isreally nothing to connect this woman with the theft; still, anyone couldsee that it would be more likely that she should do it than I should.'

  'Except this, Dorothy--that you were in London at the time, and there isno proof that she was; and that these people all swear it was you, whilethe most that we can prove is that there is in existence some one who iswonderfully like you. It is an immense satisfaction to us to have got asfar as we have. We have, at any rate, a strong defence, and the storywill at least satisfy all who know you. Still, Singleton agrees with methat a jury would hardly be satisfied, and that the verdict wouldprobably be against us.

  'I don't expect the jeweller to give up his claim. I don't think itwould be reasonable to expect it. The man has been robbed of valuablegoods, and he and his two assistants were absolutely convinced that itwas you who took them. There were reports about that you were beingpressed for money; and our defence that a woman, so like you that yourportrait was taken for hers, crossed from Hamburg to New York a weekafter the robbery, cannot be taken as conclusive that it was this womanand not you who was at the jeweller's shop. My greatest comfort in thematter is at present that this woman is at the other side of theAtlantic, and I am quite prepared to meet the jeweller half-way andshare the loss with him if Levine does not think that in case this womandoes return, as it is almost certain she will do, and attempts similarfrauds, my having compromised the matter would weaken our position.'

  'I see all that, father, but I don't see why you should not write aboutit to Mr. Levine, instead of going into it with him personally. He issure to want you to stay in town, and then there is no saying how longwe might be kept. You will be up in town again in the spring.'

  'Very well, Dorothy, we will start to-morrow morning. If Levine thinksit is absolutely necessary he should see me I must run up again. Thetrain takes us so far towards home now that it is only eighteen hours'travelling, and I must own that I shall be heartily glad to be at homeagain. We have been away more than eight months, which is longer than Ican remember having been from home all my life.'

  Mr. Singleton was glad when his friend told him that they would traveldown together.

  'I would rather have stayed a couple of days, Singleton, but Dorothy hasset her mind upon starting at once.'

  'I don't wonder at that; she has had a rough time of it altogether, andmust long for the quiet of home; besides, as you know, my theory is thatshe refused to give any decided answer to Armstrong because of thisbusiness. I should not be at all surprised if she is afraid he might getto know she is in town and might call to see her, and she wants to havetime to think it over quietly before she has to give him a decidedanswer one way or the other.'

  'But you thought she would accept him, Singleton; you told me you hadquite made up your mind that she would do so.'

  'Yes, I am almost sure that if it had not been for the affair of thediamonds she would have done so any time during that last fortnight atChamounix; but, you see, she was under the spell of the place then, andof the adventure on the glacier. She considered he had saved her life,and no doubt he did, though I do not say the guides might not havemanaged it somehow if left to themselves; still, we may put it that hesaved her. Of course that went for a great deal with her; before that Idon't think she thought about it. I watched her closely, and there wasreally no difference in her manner to him and to Fitzwarren. She lookedupon them both simply as pleasant companions. I saw the change directlyafterwards. Then there is no denying he is a very good fellow in allrespects, and likely to take with ninety-nine girls out of a hundred, sothat I have no doubt she would have accepted him if it had not been forthis other business. Now, of course, she has been away from him a week.The jewel business has to a great extent been cleared up. At any rate,there is an explanation consistent with her innocence, which there wasnot before, and she is therefore face to face with the question--shallshe accept Armstrong? She wants to think it over, and does not want tobe pressed; therefore, she is in a fever to get away down into thecountry, before he can know that she has come back. I believe it willcome to the same thing. Perhaps she told him she would take him if shefelt free to do so. At any rate, Hampton has put himself out of therunning by his own folly, and I have nothing more to say on the matter.However, I am glad we are all going back together.'

  Accordingly the next morning they started by train, slept at Nottinghamthat night, and then posted the remaining sixty miles.

  Mr. Hawtrey saw with satisfaction that as soon as Dorothy took up herown life again, her spirits, which had been very uneven since she leftSwitzerland, began to return. There was much to occupy her--all herpensioners in the village to visit, hours to be spent with the headgardener in the greenhouses and conservatories, walks to be taken withthe dogs, and the horses to be visited and petted. Into all this shethrew herself with her whole energy. Her father had written a longletter to Danvers on the morning after his return; ten days later thereply came.

  'My dear sir,--I have bad news to give you. I have been away on the Continent for a fortnight, and only received your letter this morning, and at the same time, one from Hampton. It was a long chatty letter, giving me an amusing account of his voyage to New Orleans. It was written a few hours after he landed there, and he said that he was writing because the mail went out next day, and he should keep it open in case he had any news to send me. It is finished by some one else. Where Ned left off are a few scrambling misspelt words, so badly written that I had the greatest difficulty in making them out. I transcribe them as sent.'

  'Sir,--This hear is to tel you has the Captin as got a-stabed by a niggur last nite, he his very bad but the docters thinks he will git hover it.--JACOB.'

  'What is it, father?' Dorothy asked, as he uttered an exclamation ofregret.

  'It is from Danvers, my dear. He writes to tell me that he hears thatNed Hampton has been badly hurt--stabbed, it seems, by some negro.'

  Dorothy turned very pale, and set down the teapot hastily.

  'He is not killed, father?'

  'No; the person who writes says he is very bad, but the doctors think hewill get over it. Nothing more is known about it, he says. Hampton wrotehim a long, chatty letter, which he left unfinished, as the post was notgoing out until next day. It was finished by some one else--a fewmisspelt words'--and he read Jacob's addition.

  'Here is a bit more. "As Hampton told me before he started that he hadtaken a boy with him, as a sort of servant, I have just been to his oldlodgings in Jermyn Street, and find that the lad's name was Jacob. It isa satisfaction to know that Hampton has some one with him who isattached to him, even if only a boy, as I have no doubt this lad is, forHampton almost picked him off the street. I will let you know as soon asI hear again."'

  'This is a very bad business, Dorothy.'

  'Very bad, father. I am indeed sorry. How could he have got into aquarrel with a negro?'

  'That is more than I can tell, dear. I would give a great deal if thishadn't happened. I have an immense liking for the young fellow. I wasfond of him as a boy and he has grown up just as I thought he would--aman one can rely upon in every emergency--clear-headed, sensible,without a shadow of nonsense about him, and as true as steel. There, Ican eat no more breakfast,' and he pushed his plate from him and risinghastil
y left the room. Dorothy went about the house with a pale face allday. Her father rode off directly after breakfast to carry the news toSingleton who was greatly distressed thereat.

  'Did you tell Dorothy that it was at New Orleans?' he asked presently.

  'No, I did not mention the place. I thought it was as well to wait untilwe got another letter. Of course she knew from those affidavits that theman and woman had gone down there.'

  'I would have told her,' Mr. Singleton said. 'Ned begged us to saynothing about it, and though I did not give any specific promise, I haveheld my tongue thus far, though I have been strongly inclined to tellher a dozen times; but there is no reason why she should not know it wasNew Orleans. If she likes to put two and two together, she can. I wonderwhether this attack on him had anything to do with our affair.'

  'That is what I was thinking as I rode over, Singleton. I don't see howit could have done so. You see he had only just arrived there--but thereis no saying; the boy distinctly says it was a nigger, and it may onlyhave been an attempt at robbery. I suppose the letter was written in theevening. If the boat had come in early he would have set about makinginquiries at once, but as he was evidently leaving it until the nextday, I take it he must have written after dinner and then gone out for astroll and perhaps got stabbed by some vagabond or other for the sake ofhis watch.'

  'How did Dorothy take it?'

  'She seemed very sorry; but, in fact, I did not notice much. I wasregularly upset, and got out of the room as soon as I could, for if Ihad talked about it I should have broken down. Poor lad, to think of hishaving gone through half-a-dozen desperate fights in India and then tobe stabbed by a negro thief at New Orleans.'

  'Evidently the boy thought there was some hope,' Mr. Singleton said; 'sowe must trust that the next letter will bring better news. I cannotbring myself to believe that we are going to lose Ned Hampton in thisway.'

  The days passed quietly. Dorothy had put off writing to CaptainArmstrong, telling herself that there was no hurry, for although, if hemet the Fortescues, he might learn she had returned to England, he wouldnot know that any change had occurred in reference to the matter ofwhich she had spoken to him. She had asked her father on the evening onwhich the letter came to let her read it, and although she had saidnothing on the subject had not failed to notice that it was at NewOrleans he had been wounded. She knew enough of America to be aware thathe could not have gone there on his way to the districts where he mightbe going to shoot game, and she wondered whether he had really gone downthere in order to find out something more about this woman.

  It was very good of him if he had done so, and had put aside his ownplans for the purpose. She had lately been thinking of him with a gooddeal of contrition. He had really taken a great deal of pains to try andfind this man, and that after she had been so angry with him he shouldhave pursued his inquiries in New York, had given her a sharp pang, andhad opened her eyes still more widely to the injustice with which shehad treated him. He had only spent a day over it; but still, it hadshowed that her affairs still occupied his mind; but if he had reallygiven up his plans in order to follow these people down to New Orleans,it was a real sacrifice, and one that she felt she had not deserved.

  She did not admit to herself that this had anything whatever to do withthe delay in writing to Captain Armstrong, any more than she hadadmitted that she had been prevented from writing at once from Chamounixby any thought of Ned. She did acknowledge to herself that if NedHampton was to die of this wound, which he never would have received hadhe not gone down to New Orleans on her business, it would be a matter ofdeep regret to her all her life. She shrank from speaking of him, andthe subject was never alluded to, unless her father or Mr. Singletonspoke of it, which they always did when the latter came over, and shethen seldom joined in the conversation.

  It was nearly a month later when Mr. Hawtrey one morning found among hisletters one from Danvers. Three or four letters had passed between them.Mr. Levine had seen the jeweller, who, although admitting that theevidence of the existence of another person who strongly resembled MissHawtrey was remarkable, pointed out the absence of any proof whateverthat this person had even been in London at the time the diamonds weretaken away, and declaring that his own impressions remained unchanged.At the same time, he was perfectly ready to let the matter remain openfor a year or more if necessary, and would, indeed, much rather do sothan accept any offer for part payment or even for entire payment fromMr. Hawtrey.

  It seemed highly probable that proof would by that time be obtained thatmight clear the matter up entirely. If he had been the subject of anextraordinarily clever fraud he was willing to submit to the entireloss, and would, indeed, hail with satisfaction any evidence that wouldconvince him that he and his assistants had been deceived, and wouldthus entirely clear away the unjust suspicion that he could nototherwise but feel of a young lady who was the daughter of an old andvalued customer of the firm.

  'The man speaks fairly enough, I must confess,' Danvers had written; 'heis evidently absolutely convinced that he and his assistants cannot havemade a mistake as to the lady who visited them. He was, of course, muchstruck at the depositions from New York, but remarked that people areliable to be deceived by photographs, that it is one thing to see alikeness, perhaps accidental, between a photograph and a living person,but another altogether to mistake a living person you know well foranother. He is evidently greatly disturbed and troubled over the affair.He said over and over again, "I would infinitely rather lose the moneyand that Miss Hawtrey should be cleared; but, upon the other hand, Icannot give way without evidence that will absolutely convince me thatmy senses have been deceived in so extraordinary a manner."'

  Mr. Hawtrey, then, expected no news of any importance from Danvers as tohis affairs, but it was possible the letter might contain some laterintelligence from New Orleans. It was nearly a month since they hadheard, and in a case like this no news is very far from being good news;he opened it, therefore, with great reluctance, the more so that theletter was lying at the top of the others, and he saw by the anxietywith which Dorothy was watching him that she had at once recognised thehandwriting. As his eye fell upon the contents he uttered an exclamationof thankfulness.

  'It is from Ned himself,' Mr. Hawtrey said. 'Thank God for that!'

  Dorothy repeated the exclamation of thankfulness in a low tone; herhands moved unsteadily among the tea-things in front of her and then shesuddenly burst into tears.

  Her father went round to her. 'There, there, my child,' he said, puttinghis hand on her shoulder, 'do not distress yourself. I know that youmust have been as anxious as I have for the last month, as to the fateof your old friend, though you have chosen to keep it to yourself. Iknow that you must have felt it even more from having treated himunjustly before he went away.'

  'I shall be better directly, father; it is very silly.'

  'It is not silly at all, Dorothy,' he said, as he went back to his seat;'it is only natural that you should have been anxious when you knew afriend was lying dangerously wounded, and that you should be upset nowthat you hear of his recovery. I will glance through the letter and tellyou what he says.'

  Danvers had written but a few lines with the letter.

  'My dear Mr. Hawtrey,--I enclose Hampton's letter, which speaks foritself. I think that his conjecture as to the author of the attempt onhis life is likely to be correct, and much as I should be glad to hearthat your daughter was finally and satisfactorily cleared from thesecharges, I cannot but regret that Hampton should have undertaken sodangerous a business as that upon which he has embarked. I think itbetter to send you his letter, especially as we are not likely to hearagain from him for a long time.'

  Ned Hampton's letter commenced with an expression of regret that hisfriend should have been unduly alarmed about him by his boy having sentoff the letter with an addition of his own. 'Of course he meant well,but it was a pity he did it. The wound was a severe one and no doubt Ihad a very narrow escape of my life. I was rising fr
om my seat as thefellow struck at me from behind. That movement saved my life, for thebowie knife--a formidable weapon in use here--went down to the handlebetween my shoulder-bone and my ribs. That is, I take it, the plainEnglish of the surgeon's technical explanation. The boy did his best,and sprang at the negro as I fell, and got a blow on the top of his headwith the handle of the knife. It stunned him and made a nasty scalpwound, and would probably have killed him if it had not glanced off. Thescoundrel only got a few dollars, for I had fortunately emptied mypockets of valuables before leaving the hotel.'

  The writer then went on to state that he had discovered that the peoplethey were in search of 'had left their hotel suddenly half an hour afterI had landed. They had taken a passage up the river, and there seemed noreason for their sudden departure. Putting that and the attack togetherI can't help thinking that there must be some connection between them.The attack alone might have been accounted for. It is a lawless sort ofplace, and seating myself as I did on the deserted wharf, any ruffianwho noticed me might have considered me a likely victim, just as hemight have in any city of Europe; but the fact of these people leavingso suddenly rather alters the case, and I cannot help thinking thatTruscott must have been among the crowd on the wharf when the steamerwent in, and that he recognised me.

  'He may have noticed me with the Hawtreys at the Oaks, or I may havebeen pointed out to him that day I saw him and followed him; he may havebeen watching the house in Chester Square, and have seen me come out; hemay have noticed me walking with Mr. Hawtrey. If he did recognise me itwould account for his sudden departure; and as I find that he had anintimate acquaintance in New Orleans, he may have left him to take stepsto effectually prevent further pursuit. They are bound, as I found outby the outfit they bought here, for California; they go up the Missourito Omaha, and start from there in a waggon across the plains. What theyintend to do there I cannot, of course, say; the only clue I have isthat the police have discovered for me that the man they went aboutwith, whose name was Murdoch, was the keeper of a low saloon here,frequented by sailors and a low class of gamblers. He sold his placethree or four days before he started, and has gone up with them. Hisname is on the list of passengers, so it may be that they are going toopen a gambling place at one of the mining camps.

  'I am going after them. I am still weak, and my shoulder--fortunately itis the left--sometimes hurts me consumedly. It is, of course, still inbandages, but it will take nearly three weeks to Omaha, for the steamerstops at all sorts of wayside stations, so I shall be quite fit by thetime I get up there. I have bought three horses, one for my own ridingand two to draw a light cart with our provender. The boy will drive it.I am not going to be beaten by this fellow, and sooner or later I willbring him and his accomplice to book, and clear this matter up to thebottom. Don't be uneasy about me; I have had a pretty sharp lesson, andshall not be caught napping again.

  'I shall begin to let all the hair grow on my face from the day I leave,and shall have plenty of time to raise a big crop before I meet themagain; and as he can have had but a casual look at me there can be nochance of his recognising me, got up in a regular miner's outfit, whichI understand to be a dirty red shirt, rough trousers, and high boots. Ihave written to the Horse Guards for extension of leave, and, as I toldyou in my last, shall, if I am pushed for time in the end, make my wayacross the Pacific to India without returning. Of one thing I amdetermined. Dorothy Hawtrey shall be completely cleared, even if ittakes so long that I have to send my papers in and sell out.

  'Of course, when you write, you will merely say that I have gone West,and let it be supposed that I am after buffalo. I will write whenever Iget a chance. You might send me a line two or three months after you getthis, directed to me, Post Office, Sacramento, telling me how things aregoing on, and how the Hawtreys are. Say anything you like from me. I dohope they have not heard about my having been hurt.'

  In a postscript was added: 'If anyone has stepped into Halliburn'sshoes, don't fail to mention it. It will hurt, of course, but I knew mychances were at an end from the moment she found out that I had doubtedher.'

  'It is a long letter, father,' Dorothy said, as he laid it down besidehim and turned to his neglected breakfast.

  'Yes, it is rather a long letter,' he said absently.

  'Was he badly hurt?' she asked, seeing that he did not seem as if he wasgoing to say more.

  'Hurt?' he repeated, as if he had almost forgotten the circumstance, andthen, rousing himself, went on: 'Yes, he had a very narrow escape of hislife. It seems a man crept up behind him as he was sitting on the wharf,with a bowie, which is a big clasp knife with a blade which fastens by aspring. Fortunately he heard the fellow just in time, and was in the actof rising when he struck him, and the blade fell just behind theshoulder and penetrated its full depth between the shoulder-blade andthe ribs. He says he is getting round again nicely; his shoulder isstill bandaged, and hurts him sharply at times, but he is going up theriver in a steamboat, and will be two or three weeks on board, and heexpects to be quite well by the time he lands; then he will be at theedge of what they call the plains.'

  Dorothy was silent for some time.

  'Was he robbed, father?'

  'Only a few dollars; he says he had fortunately emptied his pocketsbefore leaving the hotel.'

  'I suppose he is going to hunt out on the plains?'

  'Yes, he is going to hunt, Dorothy.'

  'What will he hunt, father?'

  'I believe there are all sorts of game, dear--buffaloes and deer, and soon.'

  'But there are Indians too, father, are there not? I have read aboutemigrant trains being attacked.'

  'Yes, I suppose there are Indians,' Mr. Hawtrey replied vaguely.

  'Can't I read the letter, father?' she asked timidly, after another longpause.

  'No, I don't think so, my dear. No, it was written to Mr. Danvers, andit was to some extent a breach of confidence his forwarding it to me,but I suppose he thought I ought to see it.'

  Dorothy was silent again until her father had finished his breakfast.

  'Don't you think I ought to see it too, father?' she repeated. 'Whyshouldn't I? If there is anything about me in it, I think I have almosta right to read it. Why should I be kept in the dark? I don't see whatthere can be about me, but if there is, wouldn't it be fair that Ishould know it?'

  'That is what I have been puzzling myself about, Dorothy, ever since Iopened it. I think, myself, you have a right to know. The more so thatyou have been so hard and unjust on the poor fellow--but I promised himnot to say anything about it.'

  'But you did not promise him not to show me the letter,' Dorothy saidquickly, with the usual feminine perspicacity in discovering a way outof a difficulty short of telling an absolute untruth.

  Mr. Hawtrey could not help smiling, though he was feeling deeply anxiousand puzzled over what he had best do.

  'That is a sophistry I did not think you would be guilty of, Dorothy;though it had already occurred to me. At the time I made the promise Ithought his request was not fair to you and was unwise, but the reasonhe gave was that, having failed here, he did not wish that anotherfailure should be known; and, moreover, he did not wish to raise falsehopes when in all probability nothing might come of it. I have beengrievously tempted several times to break my promise; I know thatSingleton, who also knew, has been on the edge of doing so more thanonce, especially that day the letter came saying that he was wounded. Iwill think it over, child. No, I don't see that any good can come ofthinking about it. I feel that, as you say, you have a right to know,and as Ned Hampton says it is possible he will go back to India withoutreturning to England, it will be a long time before he can reproach mewith a breach of faith. There is the letter, child. You will find me inone of the greenhouses if you want me.'

  But as Dorothy did not come out in an hour, Mr. Hawtrey went back to thehouse and found her, as he expected, in the little room she called herown. She was sitting on a low chair with the letter on her knees; hereyes were red with c
rying.

  'Was I right to show you the letter, child?' he asked, as he sat downbeside her.

  'Of course you were right, father. I ought to have known it all along,'she said, reproachfully. 'It was right that I should be punished--for Iwas hard and unjust--but not to be punished so heavily as this. Did hego out from the first only on my affairs, and not to hunt or shoot, as Isupposed?'

  'He went out only for that purpose, Dorothy. He told me before hestarted that if he found they had gone out there, he would follow,however long it might take. You must remember that you said yourselfthat you wished him not to interfere farther in your affairs, and he wasanxious, therefore, for that and the other reason I gave you, that youshould suppose that he had gone out simply for his own amusement. As Isaw no more reason why they should have gone to the United States thanon to the Continent, although he thought they had, there was noparticular reason why I should not give him the promise he asked; and itwas not until the letter came at Chamounix, saying that he had got ontheir traces, that I had any thought of breaking the promise, althoughSingleton, who said he had never actually promised, wanted very much totell you that Ned had not, as you supposed, gone away for amusement, butto unravel that business.'

  'It was wrong,' she said decidedly. 'I know it was chiefly my own fault.I might have been vexed at first, but I ought to have known. I ought, atleast, to have been able to write to him to tell him that I would nothave him running into danger on my account.'

  'Your letter would not have reached him had you done so, my dear. Therewas no saying where to write to him, and he would have left New Yorkbefore your letter arrived; indeed, he only stayed there three days, ashe went down by the first steamer to New Orleans.'

  'It would have been a comfort for me to have written, even if he hadnever got it,' she said. 'Now, he may never hear.'

  'We must not look at it in that light, Dorothy,' Mr. Hawtrey said, withan attempt at cheerfulness. 'Ned Hampton has got his head screwed on inthe right way, and, as he says, he won't be taken by surprise again. Hehas been close on these people's heels twice, and I have strong faiththat the third time he will be more successful. What he is to do in thatcase, or how he is to get the truth out of them, is more than I canimagine, and I don't suppose he has given that any thought at present.He must, of course, be guided by circumstances. It may not be sodifficult as it seems to us here. Certainly there is no shadow of achance of his getting them arrested in that wild country, but, as theywill know that as well as he does, it might prove all the easier for himto get them to write and sign a confession of their share in thebusiness. There, I hear wheels on the gravel outside; no doubt it isSingleton--he has been over every morning for the last ten days to seeif we have news. This will gladden his heart, for he is as anxious aboutNed as if he had been his son.'

  He was about to take up the letter when Dorothy laid her hand on it.

  'Tell him the news, father, please; I want to keep the letter all tomyself.'

  Mr. Hawtrey went out to meet his friend, who was delighted to hear ofNed Hampton's recovery, but fumed and grumbled terribly when he heard ofhis plans.

  'Upon my word, Hawtrey, I hardly know which is the most perverse,Dorothy or Ned Hampton; they are enough to tire the patience of a saint.Where is the letter?'

  'I have given it to Dorothy, and she declines to give it up even foryour reading.'

  'So that is it. Then he has let the cat out of the bag at last, Hawtrey;that is a comfort anyhow. And how did she take it?'

  'She was very much upset--very much; and she says she ought to haveknown it before.'

  'Of course she ought--that is what I said all along; and she would haveknown if we hadn't been two old fools. Well, give me the contents of theletter as well as you can remember them.'

  Mr. Hawtrey repeated the substance of the letter.

  'Well, well, we must hope for the best, Hawtrey. He is clear-headedenough, and he will be sharply on his guard when he overtakes them; andhe will look so different a figure in a rough dress after that longjourney I can hardly think the fellow is likely to recognise him again.'

  'Will you come in, Singleton?'

  'Not on any account. We had best let Miss Dorothy think the matter outby herself. I fancy things will work out as I wish them yet.'

  Dorothy sat for a long time without moving; then she drew a smallwriting-table up in front of her, and, taking a sheet of note-paper,began to write after a moment's hesitation.

  'My dear Captain Armstrong,--When I saw you last I told you that I wouldlet you know should the strange mystery of which I was the victim everbe cleared up. It is not yet entirely cleared up, but it is so to aconsiderable extent, as the woman who personated me has been traced toAmerica, where she went a week after the robbery, and my portrait hasbeen recognised as her likeness by a number of persons at the hotelwhere she stopped. This encourages us to hope that some day the wholematter will be completely cleared up. I received this news on the dayafter you left Chamounix, but I did not write to you before because Iwanted to think over what you said to me in quiet.

  'I have done so, and I am sorry, very sorry, Captain Armstrong, to saythat I am certain my feelings towards you are not, and never will be,such as you desire. I like you, as I told you when you first asked methe question, very, very much, but I do not love you as you should beloved by a wife. I hope we shall always be good friends, and I wish you,with all my heart, the happiness you deserve, though I cannot be to youwhat you wish. I do not hesitate to sign myself your affectionatefriend, Dorothy Hawtrey.'

  The note was written without pause or hesitation. It had been thoughtout before it was begun. It was strange, even to herself, how easily ithad come to her, after having had it so much on her mind for the lastmonth. She wondered now how she could have hesitated so long; how shecould ever have doubted as to what she would say to him.

  'I thank God I did not write before,' she murmured, as she directed theletter. 'I might have ruined my life and his, for, once done, I nevercould have drawn back again.'