by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XVI.
A FRESH CLEW.
"Just the verdict that I expected," Mr. Pettigrew said, as he and theladies issued from the courthouse.
"I suppose that it is for the best, Mr. Pettigrew, but it seems hard,when we could have said so much, to be obliged to hold our tonguesaltogether."
"No doubt you will have an opportunity later on, Miss Covington. Ourtongues are tied until we can obtain some sort of proof to go upon. Wecannot go into court with merely suspicions; we must get facts. All wehave done at present is to obtain some sort of foundation on which towork; but facts we shall, I hope, get ere long from what we may discoverof this fellow's movements. He is likely to be less careful now that ithas been decided that Walter is dead. He is doubtless well aware of thefact that trustees have a year given them before proceeding to carry outthe provisions of a will, and, therefore, for that time he will keepquiet. At the end of the year his solicitor will write us a courteousletter, asking when we shall be in a position to distribute the estatein accordance with the provisions of the will. We shall reply that weare not in a position to do so. Then, after a time, will come letters ofa more and more peremptory character, and at last a notice that they areabout to apply to the courts for an order for us to act upon theprovisions of the will. About two years after the General's death thematter will probably come on. I may say that I have already sent checksto all the small legatees."
"Thank you, I was aware of that, because Tom Roberts came to meyesterday with his check for two hundred pounds," and said, "Look here,Miss Covington; you said you meant to keep me on just the same as in theGeneral's time, so this won't be of any use to me, and I should like tospend it in any way that you think best to find out what has become ofMaster Walter.' Of course I told him that the money could not be spentin that way, and that the work that he was doing was of far greater usethan ten times that sum would be."
"I will send you your check to-morrow, Miss Covington. The sum we havepaid to the people who have been searching, and all other expenses thatmay be incurred, will, of course, come out of the estate. You have notas yet settled, I suppose, as to your future plans?"
"No, except that I shall certainly keep on the house in Hyde ParkGardens for the present. It is, of course, ridiculously large for me,but I don't want the trouble of making a move until I make onepermanently, and shall therefore stay here until this matter is finallycleared up. Miss Purcell has most kindly consented to remain as mychaperon, and her plans and those of her niece will depend upon mine."
They had sent away their carriage when they entered the court, and theywalked quietly home, Mr. Pettigrew returning at once to his office. Thenext morning Tom Roberts accosted Hilda as she entered the breakfastroom, with a face that showed he had news.
"We have traced him down to one of his places at last, miss. I said toAndrew, 'We must keep a special sharp look out to-night, for likeenough, now that the inquest is over, he will be going to talk over thematter with his pals.' Well, miss, last night, at half-past nine, out hecomes. He wasn't in evening dress, for although, as usual, he had atopcoat on, he had light trousers and walking boots. He did not turn theusual way, but went up into Piccadilly. We followed him. I kept closebehind him, and Andrew at a distance, so that he should not notice ustogether. At the Circus he hailed a cab, and as he got in I heard himsay to the driver, 'King's Cross Station.' As soon as he had gone offAndrew and I jumped into another cab, and told the man to drive to thesame place, and that we would give him a shilling extra if he drovesharp.
"He did drive sharp, and I felt sure that we had got there before ourman. I stopped outside the entrance, Andrew went inside. In five minuteshe arrived, paid the driver his fare, and went in. I had agreed to waittwo or three minutes outside, while Andrew was to be at the ticketoffice to see where he booked for. I was just going in when, to mysurprise, out the man came again and walked briskly away. I ran in andfetched Andrew, and off we went after him. He hadn't more than aminute's start, and we were nearly up to him by the time he had got downto the main road. We kept behind him until we saw him go up PentonvilleHill, then Andrew went on ahead of him and I followed. We agreed that ifhe looked back, suspicious, I should drop behind. Andrew, when he oncegot ahead, was to keep about the same distance in front of him, so as tobe able to drop behind and take it up instead of me, while I was tocross over the road if I thought that he had discovered I was followinghim.
"However, it did not seem to strike him that anyone was watching him,and he walked on briskly until he came to a small house standing byitself, and as he turned in we were in time to see that the door wasopened to him by a man. Andrew and I consulted. I went in at the gate,took my shoes off, and went round the house. There was only a light inone room, which looked as if there were no servants. The curtains werepulled together inside, and I could see nothing of what was going on. Hestopped there for an hour and a half, then came out again, hailed a cabhalfway down the hill, and drove off. Andrew and I had compared watches,and he had gone back to Jermyn Street, so that we should be able to knowby the time the chap arrived whether he had gone anywhere else on hisway back. When I joined him I found that the man must have drivenstraight to the Circus and then got out, for he walked in just twentyminutes after I had seen him start."
"That is good news indeed, Roberts. We will go and see Mr. Pettigrewdirectly after breakfast. Please order the carriage to be round at aquarter to ten."
Netta was as pleased as her friend when she heard that a step had beenmade at last.
"I am sick of this inaction," she said, "and want to be doing somethingtowards getting to the bottom of the affair. I do hope that we shallfind some way in which I can be useful."
"I have no doubt at all that you will be very useful when we get fairlyon the track. I expect that this will lead to something."
After Tom Roberts had repeated his story to Mr. Pettigrew, Hilda said:
"I brought Roberts with me, Mr. Pettigrew, that he might tell the storyin his own way. It seems to me that the best thing now would be toemploy a private detective to find out who the man is who lives in RoseCottage. This would be out of the line of Tom Roberts and ColonelBulstrode's servant altogether. They would not know how to set aboutmaking inquiries, whereas a detective would be at home at such work."
"I quite agree with you," the lawyer said. "To make inquiries withoutexciting suspicion requires training and practice. An injudiciousquestion might lead to this man being warned that inquiries were beingmade about him and might ruin the matter altogether. Of course your twomen will still keep up their watch. It may be that we shall find it isof more use to follow the track of this man than the other. But you mustnot be too sanguine; the man at Rose Cottage may be an old acquaintanceof Simcoe. Well, my dear," he went on, in answer to a decided shake ofthe head on Hilda's part, "you must call the man by the only name thathe is known by, although it may not belong to him. I grant that themanner in which he drove into King's Cross station and then walked outon foot would seem to show that he was anxious to throw anyone whomight be watching him off the scent, and that the visit was, so tospeak, a clandestine one. But it may relate to an entirely differentmatter; for this man may be, for aught we know, an adept in crime, andmay be in league with many other doubtful characters."
"It may be so, Mr. Pettigrew, but we will hope not."
"Very well, my dear," the lawyer said. "I will send for a trustworthyman at once, and set him to work collecting information regarding theoccupant of the cottage. And now I have a point upon which I wish to askyour opinion. I have this morning received a letter from this man'ssolicitor, asking if we intend to undertake the funeral of the bodywhich the coroner's jury have found to be that of Walter Rivington; andannouncing that, if we do not, his client will himself have it carriedout."
"What do you think, Mr. Pettigrew?" Hilda said hesitatingly. "We may bewrong, you know, and it may be Walter's body."
"I have been thinking it over," the lawyer replied, "and I must say itis my opinion that
, as we have all stated our conviction that it is not,we should only stultify ourselves if we now undertook the funeral andput a stone, with his name on, over the grave. If we should at any timebecome convinced that we have been wrong, we can apply for a faculty toremove the coffin to the family vault down in Warwickshire."
"If we could do that I should not mind," Hilda said; "but even thepossibility of Walter being buried by the man who we firmly believe wasthe cause of his death is terrible."
"Yes, I can quite understand your feelings, but I think that it isnecessary that the family should make a protest against its beingsupposed that they recognize the child, by declining to undertake thefuneral. No protest could well be stronger."
"If you think that, Mr. Pettigrew, we certainly had best stand asideand let that poor child be buried by this man."
Two days later they were driving in the Row. It was Hilda's firstappearance there since the General's death, and, after talking it overwith Netta, she now appeared there in order to show that she wasperfectly convinced that the child which had been found in the canal wasnot her little cousin. The details of the proceedings of the coroner'scourt had, of course, been read by all her friends, and her appearancein the park would be the best proof that she could give that the familywere absolutely convinced that the body was not that of Walter.
Miss Purcell and Netta were with her. The latter had on, as usual, athick veil. This she always wore when driving through any locality whereshe might meet John Simcoe.
"That is the man," Hilda said to her in a sharp tone; "the farther ofthose two leaning on the rail the other side of the road."
As Hilda fixed her eyes on the man she saw him give a sudden movement.Then he said to the man next to him:
"Do you see that girl in deep mourning? It is that little vixen, HildaCovington. Confound her, she is at the bottom of all this trouble, and Ibelieve she would give ten thousand out of her own pocket to checkmateme."
The carriage was opposite to them now. Hilda looked straight in front ofher, while Netta, who was sitting with her back to the horses, took upthe watch.
"She would have to be sharp indeed to do that," the other man said. "Sofar everything has gone without a hitch, and I don't see a single weakpoint in your case. The most troublesome part has been got over."
And now some carriages going the other way cut off the view, and Nettacould read no further. She drew a long breath as Hilda's eyes turnedtowards her.
"What did you read?" the latter asked.
Netta repeated what she had caught, and then Hilda took up theconversation.
"It is quite evident that this man, whoever he is, is an accomplice. Heis a gentlemanly-looking man, and I fancy that he sat in the stalls nearto us one evening this spring. However, it is quite clear that he is aconfederate of Simcoe. Just repeat his words over again. They were inanswer to his remark that I would give ten thousand pounds to be able tocheckmate him."
Netta repeated the answer of Simcoe's companion.
"You see, Netta, there is something to find out that would checkmatehim; that is quite evident. He thinks that I cannot find it out. It mustbe, I should think, that Walter is kept in hiding somewhere. It couldnot mean that he had killed my uncle, for he would hardly tell that toanyone, and so put himself in their power."
"It may mean that you cannot find out that he is not John Simcoe," Nettasuggested.
"Possibly; but he cannot know we suspect that."
"It might be about the last will, Hilda."
The latter shook her head.
"We have never thought that there could be anything wrong about it. Thewill was drawn up by Colonel Bulstrode's lawyers, and they knew my uncleby sight; besides, all the legacies were exactly the same as in theother will, the signature and the written instructions were in hishandwriting, and he signed it in the solicitor's office in the presenceof two of their clerks. No, I don't think he can possibly mean that. Itmust be either Walter's abduction or that he is not John Simcoe, and Ishould say that the former is much the more likely. You see, he had noneed of an accomplice in the matter of getting evidence as to identity,whereas he did need an accomplice in the carrying off of Walter. Ishould say that he is far too clever a man to let anyone into any of hissecrets, unless he needed his assistance. I wonder who the man with himcan be. He is dressed in good style, and I have certainly met himsomewhere. I believe, as I said, it was at the opera. I should havethought that a man of that class is the last Simcoe would choose as aconfederate."
Miss Purcell looked from one to the other as they talked. She had bythis time been taken completely into their confidence, but had refusedabsolutely to believe that a man could be guilty of such wickedness asthat which they suspected. On their return home they found a letterawaiting them from Mr. Pettigrew:
"MY DEAR MISS COVINGTON [it ran]: My detective has not yet finished his inquiries, but has at least discovered that the proprietor of Rose Cottage, for they say that the place belongs to him, is somewhat of a mystery to his neighbors. He lives there entirely alone. He goes out regularly in a morning, it is supposed to some occupation in the City. No tradesmen ever call at the door; it is supposed that he brings home something for his breakfast and cooks it for himself, and that he dines in the City and makes himself a cup of tea in the evening, or else that he goes out after dark. Sometimes, of summer evenings, he has been seen to go out just at twilight, dressed in full evening costume--that is to say, it is supposed so, for he wore a light overcoat--but certainly a white necktie, black trousers, and patent leather boots. Of course, in all this there is nothing in itself absolutely suspicious. A man engaged in the City would naturally enough take his meals there, and may prefer to do everything for himself to having the bother of servants. Also, if his means permit it, he may like to go to theaters or places of amusement, or may go out to visit business friends. I have, of course, directed the detective to follow him to town and find out what is his business, and where employed. I will let you know result to-morrow."
The next day brought the letter.
"The man's name is William Barens. He has a small office on the third floor of a house of business in Great St. Helens, and on the doorway below his name is the word 'accountant,' The housekeeper knows nothing about him, except that he has occupied the room for the last twelve years, and that he is a gentleman who gives no trouble. He always puts his papers away at night in his safe, so that his table can be properly dusted. She knows that he has clients, as several times, when he has been away for his dinner hour, she has been asked when he would return. He is a well-spoken gentleman, though not as particular about his dress as some; but liberal with his money, and gives her as handsome a tip at Christmas as some people who have three or four rooms, and, no doubt, think themselves much finer people. This certainly does not amount to much. By the way, the old woman said that she knew he was employed by several tradesmen in the neighborhood to keep their books for them."
Two days later there was another communication:
"MY DEAR MISS COVINGTON: My man has taken a step which I should certainly have forbidden, had he told me beforehand of his intention. He watched the man go out, and then, having previously provided himself with instruments for picking locks, he opened the door and went in. On the table were several heavy ledgers and account books, all bearing the names of tradesmen in the neighborhood, with several files of accounts, bills, and invoices. These fully bore out what the woman had told him. Besides the chairs, table, and safe, the only other articles of furniture in the room were an office washing stand and a large closet. In the latter were a dress suit and boots, and a suit of fashionable walking clothes, so that it is evident that he often changed there instead of going home. I am sorry to say that all this throws no further light upon the man's pursuits, and had it not been for Simcoe's visit to him,
it would be safe to say that he is a hard-working accountant, in a somewhat humble, but perhaps well-paying line; that he is a trifle eccentric in his habits, and prefers living a cheap, solitary life at home, while spending his money freely in the character of a man about town in the evening. I cannot say that the prospect in this direction seems hopeful. I have told my man that for the present we shall not require his services further."
"It does not seem very satisfactory, certainly," Hilda said with a sigh;"I am afraid that we shall have to keep on watching Simcoe. I wish Icould peep into his room as this detective did into that of thePentonville man."
"I don't suppose that you would find anything there, Hilda; he is notthe sort of man to keep a memorandum book, jotting down all his owndoings."
"No," Hilda said with a laugh; "still, one always thinks that one canfind something."
Had Hilda Covington had her wish and looked into John Simcoe's room thatmorning, she would certainly have derived some satisfaction from thesight. He had finished his breakfast before opening a letter that laybeside him.
"What a plague the old woman is with her letters! I told her that Ihated correspondence, but she persists in writing every month or so,though she never gets any reply except, 'My dear Aunt: Thanks for yourletter. I am glad to hear that you are well.--Your affectionate nephew.'Well, I suppose I must read it through."
He glanced over the first page, but on turning to the second his eyebecame arrested, and he read carefully, frowning deeply as he did so.Then he turned back and read it again. The passage was as follows:
"I had quite an interesting little episode a day or two after I last wrote. A young lady--she said her name was Barcum, and that she was an artist--came in and asked if I would take her in as a lodger. She was a total stranger to the place, and had come down for her health, and said that some tradesman had recommended her to come here, saying that, as a single lady, I might be glad to accommodate her. Of course I told her that I did not take lodgers. She got up to go, when she nearly fainted, and I could not do less than offer her a cup of tea. Then we got very chatty, and as I saw that she was really too weak to go about town looking for lodgings, I invited her to stay a day or two with me, she being quite a lady and a very pleasant-spoken one. She accepted, and a pleasanter companion I never had. Naturally I mentioned your name, and told her what adventures you had gone through, and how kind you were. She was greatly interested, and often asked questions about you, and I do think that she almost fell in love with you from my description. She left suddenly on receipt of a letter that called her up to town, saying that she would return; but I have not heard from her since, and I am greatly afraid that the poor child must be seriously ill. She was a pretty and intelligent-looking girl, with dark eyes and hair, and I should say that when in good health she must be very bright. Of course, she may have changed her mind about coming down. I am sure she would have written if she had been well."
"Confound the old gossip!" John Simcoe said angrily, as he threw theletter down. "I wonder what this means, and who this girl can be? It isclear enough that, whoever she is, she was sent down there to makeinquiries about me. It is that girl Covington's doing, I have no doubt,though it was not the minx herself, for the description does not tallyat all. She has light brown hair and grayish sort of eyes. There is onecomfort, she would learn nothing to my disadvantage from the old woman,nor, I believe, from anyone at Stowmarket. In fact, she would only getmore and more confirmation of my story. I have no fear upon that score,but the thing shows how that girl is working on my track. As for thelawyer, he is an old fool; and if it hadn't been for her I would bet ahundred to one that he would never have entertained any suspicion thatall was not right. It is her doing all through, and this is a piece ofit. Of course she could have no suspicion that I was not John Simcoe,but I suppose she wanted to learn if there was any dark spot in myhistory--whether I had ever been suspected of robbing a bank, or hadbeen expelled from school for thieving, or something of that sort. Ibegin to be downright afraid of her. She had a way of looking throughme, when I was telling my best stories to the General, that always putme out. She disliked me from the first, though I am sure I tried inevery way to be pleasant to her. I felt from the day I first saw herthat she was an enemy, and that if any trouble ever did come it would bethrough her. I have no doubt she is moving heaven and earth to findWalter; but that she will never do, for Harrison is as true as steel,and he is the only man who could put them on the right track. Moreover,I have as much pull over him as he has over me. He has never had a doubtabout my being John Simcoe; he doesn't know about the other affair, butonly that Walter stood between me and the estate, and he was quite readyto lend me a hand to manage to get him out of the way. So in thatbusiness he is in it as deep as I am, while I know of a score of schemeshe has been engaged in, any one of which would send him abroad for life.I expect those inquiries were made at Stowmarket to endeavor to find outwhether any child had been sent down there. If so, Miss Covington is notso sharp as I took her to be. Stowmarket would be the very last placewhere a man, having relations and friends there, would send a child whomhe wished to keep concealed. Still it is annoying, confoundedlyannoying; and it shows that these people, that is to say HildaCovington, are pushing their inquiries in every direction, likely orunlikely.
"The only comfort is, the more closely they search the sooner they willcome to the conclusion that the boy is not to be found. I believe that,though they declared they did not recognize the body, they had no realdoubt about it, and they only said so because if they had admitted it,the trustees would have had no excuse for not carrying out theprovisions of the will. That text the girl had the impudence to quoteto me looked as if she believed the body was Walter's, and that I hadkilled him, though it may be that she only said it to drive me tobringing the whole business into court, by bringing an action againsther for libel; but I am not such a fool as to do that. Just at presentthere is a lot of public feeling excited by the circumstances of thechild's loss and the finding of the body, and even if I got a verdict Ifancy that the jury would be all on the girl's side, and give me suchtrifling damages that the verdict would do me more harm than good. No,our game clearly is to let the matter rest until it has died out of thepublic mind. Then we shall apply formally for the trustees to be calledupon to act. No doubt they will give us a great deal of trouble, butComfrey says that he thinks that the order must be granted at last,though possibly it may be withheld, as far as the estate is concerned,for some years. At any rate I ought to get the ten thousand at once, asthe question whether the boy is alive or dead cannot affect that in theslightest."