by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XXI.
A BOX AT THE OPERA.
"I tell you what it is, Simcoe," Harrison said two months later, "thisaffair of yours is getting to be a good deal more troublesome than Ibargained for. It all looked simple enough; one only had to pick up achild, drive him in a cab across London, then down in a trap to Pitsea,hand him over to a man I knew would take good care of him, and take thepayments for him when they became due, which would be no trouble, as Ihad to see the man occasionally on my own business. Of course I expectedthat there would be a big hue and cry for him, but I had no fearwhatever of his being found. Then I managed through another man to getthat body from the workhouse undertaker, and you managed the rest easilyenough; but I tell you that the matter is getting a good deal hotterthan I ever thought it would.
"I told you that I had been followed several times after leaving yourplace, and one morning when I went out early I saw footmarks, showingthat someone had been walking round my house and trying to look in atthe windows. I have a strong suspicion that I have been followed to myoffice, and I know that someone got in there one day at my dinner hour.I know, because I always fasten a piece of thread, so that if the dooris opened it breaks it. There is nothing there that anyone could makeanything of, but it is just as well to know if anyone has been pryingabout. The woman of the house was sure that she had not been in there,nor had she let anyone in; so the lock must have been picked. Of courseanyone is liable to have his office robbed when he is out and it isempty; but nothing was taken, and if a common thief had found nothingelse he would probably have made off with my dress suit, which wouldhave brought him a sov. in a second-hand clothes shop.
"You know I have an excessive objection to being watched. I have hadnothing on hand lately, at any rate nothing that has come off, but Imight have had, you know. Well, yesterday I was going down to see my manin the marshes, and to tell him that likely enough I should bringsomething down to him next week. I got out of the train at Tilbury, and,as you know, there are not a dozen houses anywhere near the station.Now, I have a habit of keeping my eyes open, and I saw a man sitting onan old boat. What called my attention particularly to him was that hewas turned half round watching the entrance to the station as I cameout. You can always tell whether a man is watching for someone, orwhether he is merely looking generally in that direction, and this manwas certainly watching for someone. The instant his eye fell upon me heturned round and stared at the river. The path to the public house layjust behind him. Now, it would be natural that hearing a footstep a mandoing nothing would look round and perhaps say a word--ask the time, orsomething of that sort. Well, he didn't turn round. Now, it is my habit,and a very useful one, always to carry a glass of about the size of afolded letter in my pocket. Instead of going on to the public house Iturned off from the path and walked away from the river. When I had gotsome little distance I took out my glass, and still walking along, Iheld it up so that I could see in it what was going on behind. The manwas standing up, watching me. I put the glass in my pocket and droppedmy handkerchief. I stooped down to pick it up, of course partly turningas I did so, and saw that he had instantly dropped into a sittingposition again, with his back to me.
"That was good enough. I turned, cut across the fields, went straightback to the station and took the next ferry-boat to Gravesend, and cameback that way. It is quite clear to me that not only is this girl onthe track still, but the chase is getting to be a very hot one, andthat not only are they watching you, but they are watching me, and havein some way or other, though how, I cannot guess, found out that I godown to Tilbury, and have accordingly sent a man down to follow me. Now,I tell you frankly, I will have no more to do with the matter--that isto say, as far as going down on your business. As I have told you, Ihave always managed my own affairs so well that the police and I have noacquaintance whatever; and I am not going to be spied upon and followedand have the 'tecs upon my track about an affair in which I have nointerest at all, except that, you having stood by my brother, I was gladto do you any service I could. But this is getting serious. I don't likeit. I have told you I have business with the man, and get things offabroad through him that I should have great trouble in getting rid of inany other way; but unless in quite exceptional cases, these things areso small that they could be hidden away for months without much risk oftheir being found, however sharp the hunt after them might be. As I amin no way pressed for money I can afford to wait, though I own that Ilike to get the things off my hands as soon as I can, and as Iconsidered that I ran practically no risk in going down with them intoEssex, I never kept them at my house. However, for a time I must do so.I must tell you that when I am going down I always write beforehand andmake an appointment for him to have his barge at the wharf at Pitsea,and I send my letter addressed to him: 'Mr. William Nibson, barge _MaryAnn_, care of Mr. Scholey, Spotted Horse, Pitsea.' You had better writeto him in future. You need not put anything inside the envelope exceptnotes for twenty-five pounds, and the words, 'For the child's keep forsix months.' I need not say that you had better disguise your writing,both on the envelope and on the inside, and it is best that you shouldget your notes from some bookmaker on a race-course. You tell me youoften go to races now and do a little betting. They are not the sort ofmen who take the numbers of the notes they pay out, and it would benext to impossible for them to be traced to you."
"Thank you, Harrison; you have behaved like a true pal to me, and I amever so much obliged to you. I quite see what you mean, and indeed it isas much for my interest as yours that you should not go down there anymore. Confound that girl Covington! I am sure she is the moving spiritof it all. I always felt uneasy about her from the first, and was surethat if there was any trouble it would come from her. I wonder how thedeuce she ever found out that you went down to Tilbury."
"That beats me too, Simcoe. As you may guess, I am always most cautiousabout it, and always take a very roundabout way of going to thestation."
"I have been uneasy ever since that girl at our place left so suddenly.A fortnight afterwards we found that there was a hole bored through thedoorpost. Of course it might have been bored before I went there; but inthat case it is curious that it was never noticed before. I cannot helpthinking that she did it."
"Yes, you told me; but you said that you tried the experiment, and foundthat when your man and his wife were talking there in a loud voice, andyou had your ear at the hole, you could not catch a single word."
"Yes, that was certainly so. I could hear them talking, but I could notmake out a word of their conversation. Still it is evident that somebodyhas been trying to hear. I cannot help thinking that it was that girl,though both Johnstone and his wife spoke very highly of her. Certainlythe story she told them was true to a certain extent, for when they sentthe box down to Reading I sent a man down there to watch, and she calledto fetch it, and my man found out that she labeled it 'Oxford,' and tookit away with her on the down train. As he had no directions to followher farther he came back. After we found the hole I sent him down again;but he never came upon her traces, though he inquired at every villagenear Oxford."
"She may have been put there as a spy," the other said; "but as it isevident that she couldn't hear through that hole, it is clear that shecould not have done them any good. That is, I suppose, why they calledher off; so the puzzle still remains how they got on my track atTilbury. I should like to have a good look at this Covington girl. I canadmire a clever wench, even when she is working against me."
"There is 'The Huguenots' at Her Majesty's to-night, the first time thisseason. She very often goes in Lady Moulton's box, and it is likelyenough that she will go to-night. It's the third box from the stage, onthe first tier; I will go down to Bond Street and see if I can get holdof a box opposite, on the second or third tier. The money will be welllaid out, for I should very much like you to study her face, and I wonenough at pool at the club this afternoon to pay for it."
"Very well, then I will come round to your place. I really am curious tose
e the girl. I only caught a passing glimpse of her in the park thatday."
Simcoe was not wrong in his conjecture, for Hilda dined at LadyMoulton's, and they took their places in the latter's box just as thefirst bar of the overture sounded. She was in half mourning now, and inblack lace, with white camellias in her hair and breast, was, as Nettahad told her before starting, looking her best.
"That is the girl," Simcoe exclaimed, as she went forward to the frontof the box.
"Well, there is no denying that she is good-looking," the other said, ashe turned his glasses upon her; "there is not a better-looking woman inthe house. Plenty of self-possession too," he added, as Hilda took herseat and at once, in apparent ignorance that any glasses were upon her,took her own lorgnettes from their case and proceeded calmly to scan thestalls and boxes, to see who among her numerous acquaintances werethere. As her eyes fell upon the two men sitting nearly opposite to her,her glasses steadied, then after a minute she lowered them.
"Lady Moulton, I regard it as a providence that you brought me herethis evening. Do you see those two men there in the box nearly opposite,in the second tier? Well, one of the men is Simcoe, to whom my uncleleft all his property if Walter should not live to come of age, and whoI am absolutely convinced carried the child away."
"I see them, my dear; they are staring at you. I suppose they are asmuch interested in you as you in them."
Hilda again put her glasses to her eyes.
"She has just told Lady Moulton who I am," Simcoe said.
"She has a clever face, Simcoe--broad across the chin--any amount ofdetermination, I should say. Ah! there, she is getting up to make roomfor somebody else."
"Stay where you are, my dear," Lady Moulton said, putting her hand onHilda's arm; "there is plenty of room for three."
"Plenty," she replied; "but I want to watch those two men, and I cannotkeep my glasses fixed on them while I am sitting in the front row."
"Hardly, my dear," Lady Moulton said with a smile. "Well, have your ownway."
A fourth lady came in almost immediately. She took the third chair inthe front, and Hilda, sitting half in the shade, was able to devoteherself to her purpose free from general observation. She had alreadyheard that Simcoe's companion had apparently suspected that he waswatched, and had returned to town at once without speaking to anyone atTilbury. She felt that he would probably henceforth choose some otherroute, and the chances of following him would be greatly diminished. Theopportunity was a fortunate one indeed. For months she had been hopingthat some day or other she could watch these men talking, and now, as itseemed by accident, just at the moment when her hopes had fallen, thechance had come to her.
"She has changed her place in order to have a better look at us," JohnSimcoe said, as she moved. "She has got her glasses on us."
"We came to stare at her. It seems to me that she is staring at us,"Harrison said.
"Well, I should think that she knows my face pretty well by this time,"Simcoe laughed. "I told you she has a way of looking through one thathas often made me uncomfortable."
"I can quite understand that. I noticed myself that when she looked atus, without her glasses, there was a curious intentness in herexpression, as if she was taking stock of every point about us. Shecannot be the girl who has been to your lodging."
"Certainly not," the other said; "I know her a great deal too well forher to try that on. Besides, beyond the fact that the other was agood-looking girl too--and, by the way, that she had the same trick oflooking full in your face when you spoke--there was no resemblancewhatever between them."
The curtain now drew up, and silence fell upon the house, and the mendid not speak again until the end of the first act. They then continuedtheir conversation where they had left it off.
"She has moved, and has been attending to the opera," Simcoe said; "butshe has gone into the shade again, and is taking another look at us."
"I am not given to nervousness, but upon my word those glasses fixedupon me make me quite fidgety."
"Pooh, man! she is not looking at you; she is looking at me. I don'tknow whether she thinks that she can read my thoughts, and find outwhere the child is hidden. By the way, I know nothing about this placePitsea. Where is it, and which is the best way to get there?"
"You can drive straight down by road through Upminster and Laindon. Theplace lies about three miles this side of Benfleet. There are only abouthalf a dozen houses, at the end of a creek that comes up from HoleHaven. But I should not think of going near the house. The latter,directed as I told you, is sure to find the man."
"Oh, I am not thinking of going! but I shall get a man to watch thefellows they sent down to watch you, and if I find that they seem to begetting on the right track, I shall run down at all hazards and take himaway."
"Your best plan by far will be to go with him, on board Nibson's barge,up to Rochester. No doubt he can find some bargeman there who will takethe boy in. Or, what would perhaps be better, hire a trap there, anddrive him down to Margate or Ramsgate. There are plenty of schoolsthere, and you might get up a yarn about his being a nephew of yours,and leave him there for a term or two. That would give you time todecide. By this time he will have but a very faint remembrance of hislife in town, and anything that he may say about it will certainly meetwith no attention."
"Would it be as well to do it at once, do you think?" Simcoe asked.
"No; we have no idea how many people they may have on the watch, and itwould be only running unnecessary risks. Stick to the plan that we havealready agreed on, of communicating only by writing. But I think youridea of sending two or three sharp fellows down there to find out whatthe party are doing is really a good one."
Hilda lowered her glasses as the curtain rose again. "Oh, Lady Moulton!"she whispered, "I have found out all that I have been so long wanting toknow. I believe now that in three days I shall have the child homeagain."
Lady Moulton turned half round.
"How on earth have you found that out, Hilda? Are you a wizard indeed,who can read men's thoughts in their faces? I always thought that therewas something uncanny about you, ever since that day of my fete."
To Harrison's relief, Miss Covington did not turn her glass towards himagain during the evening. When the curtain fell on the next act agentleman, to whom Lady Moulton had nodded in the stalls, came in. Aftershaking hands with her and her friends, he seated himself by the sideof Hilda.
"Miss Covington," he said, "I have never had an opportunity of speakingto you since that fete at Lady Moulton's. I have understood that thegypsy on that occasion was engaged by you, and that there was, if youwill excuse me saying so, some little mystery about it. I don't wish topry into that, but if you should ever see the woman again you willoblige me very greatly by telling her that I consider I owe her a deepdebt of gratitude. She said something to me then that made a tremendousimpression upon me, and I do not mind telling you it brought me up witha round turn. I had been going ahead a great deal too fast, and I seenow that, had I continued on the same course, I should have broughtabsolute ruin upon myself, and blighted my life in every way. The shockshe gave me by warning me what would come if I did not give up cards andracing showed me my utter folly, and on that day I swore never to toucha card or lay a penny upon a horse for the rest of my life. When I tellyou that I have completely pulled myself round, and that, by the aid ofan old uncle, to whom I went and made a clean breast of all, I am nowstraight in every way, and, as you may have heard, am going to bemarried to Miss Fortescue in a fortnight, you may guess what deep reasonI have to be grateful to this gypsy woman of yours, and how I hope that,should you come across her again, you will tell her so, and should therebe any possible way in which I can prove my gratitude, by money orotherwise, I shall be delighted to do so."
"I will tell her, Captain Desmond," the girl said in a low voice. "I amsure that it will make her happy to know that she did some good thatevening. I do not think that she is in need of money or assistance ofany kind, but should she b
e so I will let you know."
"And do you really mean that you have discovered where GeneralMathieson's grandson is living?" Lady Moulton asked, as they rose toleave their seats when the curtain fell.
"I think so; I am almost sure of it."
Lady Moulton had heard a good deal from Hilda as to the situation. Mr.Pettigrew had strongly impressed upon both Hilda and Colonel Bulstrodethat it was very important that the contents of the will should not betalked about. "We don't want our private affairs discussed in the pressand made the subject of general talk," he had said, and it was only toLady Moulton that Hilda had spoken freely of the matter, so far as thediscovery of the new will, the change that had been made, and thesingularity of Walter being missing. She had also mentioned her beliefthat Simcoe was at the bottom of this, but had breathed no words of hersuspicion that the General had come to his death by foul play, or of herown conviction that Simcoe was an impostor, although there had been sometalk in the clubs over the matter, for Colonel Bulstrode was by no meansso discreet as Hilda, and among his intimate friends spoke his mind withgreat vehemence and strength of language as to General Mathieson havingmade so singular a disposition of his property, and he made no secret ofhis suspicion that Simcoe was at the bottom of Walter's disappearance.Thus the matter had gradually gone the round of the clubs; but it wasnot until Simcoe's own counsel had drawn from him the fact that Walter'sdeath would put him into possession of the estate that the public ingeneral learned the facts.
"It was a clever move," Mr. Pettigrew had said, talking it over with hispartner. "No doubt he was afraid that the question would be asked by ourcounsel, and he thought that it was better that the fact should comevoluntarily from himself. His best plan by far was to brazen it out. Nodoubt nine men out of ten will consider that the affair is a verysuspicious one, and some of them will give him the cold shoulder; butwhatever their opinions, they dare not express them without layingthemselves open to an action for libel, while, on the other hand, thefact that a man is heir to a good estate will always cause a good manyto rally round him. Not the best of men, you know, but enough toprevent his being a lonely figure in a club.
"Yes, I think he was certainly well advised to declare his heirshipvoluntarily, instead of having it drawn from him. He must have known, ofcourse, that sooner or later the matter would be made public, and it isbetter for him to get the talk and gossip over now instead of the matterbeing known for the first time when he begins to take legal steps tocompel us to put him into possession of the estate."
"What on earth did you mean, Hilda," Lady Moulton said, as the door ofthe carriage was closed and they drove off from Her Majesty's, "bysaying that you had discovered a clew by which you might in a few daysfind your little cousin?"
"I cannot tell you exactly how I discovered it. At present it is asecret that both my mother and uncle charged me to keep, but when thesetroubles are over I will explain it all to you, though I shouldcertainly do so to no one else."
"Well, I suppose I must be content with that, Hilda. But it certainlydoes seem extraordinary to me that by merely seeing two men in a box onthe other side of the house you should have obtained a clew to what youhave for a year now been trying to get at."
"It does seem extraordinary, Lady Moulton, but it really is not so, andI hope to convince you that I am right by producing Walter in a weekfrom the present time."
"I hope you will, Hilda. I sincerely hope so, both for the child's sake,yours, and my own. Of course, when he is found there will be no possiblereason for your keeping yourself shut up as you have done. I have missedyou very much, and shall be very glad to have you under my wing again."
"Thank you for saying so, Lady Moulton; but so far as I have formed myplans, they are that Walter's trustees shall either let or sell thehouse in Hyde Park Gardens, and that I shall go down for a time with himinto the country. I have had a great deal of anxiety this last year,and I shall be very glad of complete rest for a time."
"That is reasonable enough, my dear, but I do hope that you are notthinking of burying yourself in the country for good. There, I am athome. Good-night, Hilda; thanks for the lift. It is not often my horsesor my coachmen have a night off during the season."