The Lost Heir

"What a name to take, Netta!"

"Yes, I do not know how I came to choose it. I was thinking what name I would take when Clotworthy flashed across my mind. I don't think that I ever heard the name before, and how I came to think of it I cannot imagine; it seemed to me a sort of inspiration, so I settled on it at once."

"Now, let me see the letter," Hilda asked, as soon as they returned home.

"I hardly liked to write it," Netta said, "it is such a wicked story; but I don't see how a person can act as detective without telling stories, and, at any rate, it is perfectly harmless."

"Oh, yes; it is quite certain, Netta, that you could not write and tell her that you have been in her house in disguise, and that, having found out what you wanted, you have now left her. Of course you must make up a story of some sort, or, as you say, Simcoe would at once suspect that you had been sent there to watch him. He might feel perfectly sure that no conversation could have been heard outside the room, but he could not be sure that you might not have been hidden under the table or sofa, or behind a curtain. When so much depends upon his thinking that he is absolutely safe, one must use what weapons one can. If you have any scruples about it, I will write the letter for you."

"No, I do not think the scruples will trouble me," Netta laughed. "Of course, I have had to tell stories, and one more or less will not weigh on my mind. Here is the letter. If you can think of any better reason for running away so suddenly, by all means let me have it."

The letter was written in a sprawling hand, and with many of the words misspelt. It began:

"Dear Mrs. Johnstone: I am afraid you will think very badly of me for leaving you so sudding, after you and Mr. Johnstone have been so kind to me, but who should I meet at my friend's but my young man. We were ingaged to be married, but we had a quarrel, and that is why I came up to town so sudding. We has made it up. He only come up yesterday, and is going down this morning, and nothing would do but that I must go down with him and that we should get married directly. He says that as the banns has been published there aint any occasion to wait, and we might be married at the end of the week, as he has got everything ready and is in good employment. So the long and the short of it is, mam, that I am going down with him home this afternoon. As to the wages that was due to-morrow, of course I forfeit them, and sorry I am to give you troubil, by leaving you without a girl. My box is not locked, plese look in it and you will see that there aint nothing there that isn't my own. In one corner you will find half a crown wrapped up in paper, plese take that to pay for the carriage of the box, the key is in the lock, and I send a labil to tie on."

"What do you think of that, Hilda?"

"I think it will do capitally. I don't think any better excuse could be made. But where will you have the box sent?"

"That is what we must settle together. It would not do to send it down to some little village, for if the address was unknown it might be sent back again."

"Yes; and if John Simcoe had any suspicions that the story was a false one he might go down there to make inquiries about Jane Clotworthy, and, finding no such name known there, and the box still lying at the station, his suspicion that he had been watched would become almost a certainty."

"I should think that Reading would be a good place to send to it. 'Jane Clotworthy, Luggage Office, Reading.' Then I could go down myself and ask for it, and could bring it up by the next train."

"Tom Roberts could do that, Netta; there is no reason why you should trouble about it."

"I think that I had better go myself. It is most unlikely that Simcoe would send down anyone to watch who took the box away, but if he should be very uneasy he might do so. He would be sure to describe me to anyone that he sent, so that it would be better that I should go myself."

"I think that your story is so plausible, Netta, that there is no risk whatever of his having any doubts about it, but still one cannot be too careful."

"Then I will wind up the letter.

"'Begging your pardon for having left you in the lurch so sudding. I remain, your obedient servant,

    "'Jane Clotworthy.

"'P.S. – I am very sorry.

"'P.S. – Plese give my respects to Mr. Johnstone, and excuse blots.'"

Hilda burst into a fit of laughter as she glanced at the postscript.

"That will do admirably, Netta," she said. "Now how had we better send it?"

"I should think that your maid had better take it. You might tell her to ring at the bell, hand it to the woman, and come away at once, without talking, except saying 'I was told to give you this.' Then she would be well away before Mrs. Johnstone had mastered the contents of the note. It had better be sent off at once, for by this time they will be getting in a way."

"I think that I had better send Roberts. No doubt Johnstone himself will be in, and will answer the door; and he might ask Lucy where she came from, and I don't want to tell her anything. Roberts could say that a young woman of his acquaintance, down Chelsea way, asked him to get on a 'bus and leave it for her. He can be trusted, if the man does detain him and ask him questions, to give sensible answers."

The letter was sealed and Roberts called up.

"Take a cab and go down with this to Jermyn Street," Hilda said. "I want it left at that house. If the man who opens the door asks you who you have brought it from, say from a young woman, a friend of yours, in a place down Chelsea way. I don't suppose that he will ask any other questions, and you had best say 'Good-morning,' and saunter off carelessly, as if, having done your errand, you had nothing else on hand. Of course you won't drive up to the door. Leave the cab round the corner, and come straight back here in it."

"All right, miss," he answered.

There was a little look of amusement in the man's face as he glanced at Netta that did not this time pass unnoticed by his mistress. She waited until the door had closed behind him, and then turned sharply on her friend.

"I believe, Netta, you have had Roberts in your confidence all the time, and while we have all been working ourselves into a fever as to where you could be, he has known it all along."

"One cannot work without accomplices," Netta laughed. "It was necessary that someone should make arrangements with the servant there for me to take her place, and who could I trust better than Roberts? I think Colonel Bulstrode's servant helped in the matter; at any rate, they managed it capitally between them. Of course it was Roberts who carried my box out that morning. You must not be angry with him, Hilda, for keeping it from you. I made him promise most faithfully that nothing should induce him to confess."

"I shan't be angry with him, Netta, but you may be sure that I shall give him a little lecture and say that I will have no more meddling on his part, except by my express orders. It is really annoying, you know, to think that all this time we were fretting about you there was Roberts going about laughing in his sleeve."

"Well, you know, Hilda, he has the discovery of Walter as much at heart as we have, and he has certainly not spared himself in the search for him."

"No, that he has not. He is a faithful fellow, and I promise you that I won't be too hard on him."

CHAPTER XX.

A DINNER PARTY

It was the first time that anyone had dined at the house in Hyde Park Gardens since General Mathieson's death, and it seemed strange to Hilda when Mr. Pettigrew, at her request, faced her at the table. The gentlemen had all arrived within a minute or two of each other, and no word had been said by Hilda as to the subject about which she had specially asked them there. The table was well lighted and bright with flowers, and the lawyer and Colonel Bulstrode were both somewhat surprised at the cheerful tone in which Hilda began to talk as soon as they sat down. It was, however, eight months since the house was first shut up, and though all had sincerely regretted the General's death, it was an old story now, and they were relieved to find that it was evidently not Hilda's intention to recall the past.

During dinner the talk went on as usual, and it was not until the servants had left the room that Hilda said:

"Now, Mr. Pettigrew, I have no doubt that both you and Colonel Bulstrode are wondering what the matter of importance about which I asked you to come here can be. It is rather a long story, so instead of going upstairs we will stop here. My news is great news. We have discovered – at least my friend Miss Purcell has discovered – that without doubt Walter is alive and well."

An exclamation of surprise broke from Mr. Pettigrew and the Colonel.

"By gad, that is great news indeed!" the latter exclaimed; "and I congratulate you most heartily. I had quite given up all hope myself, and although I would have fought that fellow to the last, I never had any real doubt in my mind that the child they fished out of the canal was General's Mathieson's grandson."

"You astonish me indeed," Mr. Pettigrew said. "I own that, while I was able to swear that I did not recognize him, yet as a reasonable man I felt that the evidence was overpowering the other way. Though I would not dash your hopes by saying so, it appeared to me certain that, sooner or later, the courts would decide that the provisions of the will must be carried out. And so you discovered this, Miss Netta? May we ask how you did it?"

"Netta wanted her share in the matter to remain a secret, Mr. Pettigrew; but I told her that was out of the question, and that it was quite necessary that you and Colonel Bulstrode should know the precise facts, for that, as a lawyer, you could not take any action or decide upon any course to be pursued unless you knew the exact circumstances of the case. However, she asked me, as she has given me the whole particulars, to tell the story for her. When I have done she will answer any questions you may like to ask."

Hilda then repeated, almost word for word, the story Netta had told her. Mr. Pettigrew and the Colonel several times broke in with exclamations of surprise as she went on. Dr. Leeds sat grave and thoughtful.

"Splendidly done!" Colonel Bulstrode exclaimed when she brought her story to an end. "It was a magnificent idea, and it must have needed no end of pluck to carry it out as you did. But how, by looking at a fellow's mouth through a hole, you knew what he said beats me altogether."

"That part was very simple, Colonel Bulstrode," Netta said quietly. "I learned it by a new system that they have in Germany, and was myself a teacher in the institution. You may not know, perhaps, that I am stone-deaf."

"You are not joking, Miss Purcell; are you?" the Colonel said, looking at her earnestly. "Why, I have talked to you a dozen times and it never struck me that you were in the slightest degree deaf."

"I am absolutely so, as Miss Covington will tell you, and Mr. Pettigrew knows it also. Fortunately I did not lose my hearing until I was six years old, and I had not altogether lost the habit of speaking when I went out to Germany, three years later. Had I been born deaf and dumb I could have learned to understand what was said perfectly, but should never have spoken in a natural voice."

"Well, it is wonderful altogether, and I should not have believed it if a stranger had told me. However, the great thing at present is that you have found out that the child is alive. We ought not to be long in laying hands on him now, Pettigrew, eh?"

"I hope not, Colonel; but you must not be too sanguine about that; we have evidently very crafty scoundrels to deal with. Still, now that we feel sure that the child is alive and well, the matter is a comparatively straightforward one, and we can afford to work and wait patiently. Tilbury is only a bit of a village, but beyond that stretch great marshes – in fact, all South Essex as far as the mouths of the rivers Crouch, Blackwater, and Coln. He would say, 'I went down to Tilbury,' because Tilbury is the terminus of the railway. Possibly he may have crossed to Gravesend; possibly he may have gone inland to Upminster or some other village lying in that district; or he may have driven down as far as Foulness, which, so far as anybody knows anything about it, might be the end of the world. Therefore, there is a wide area to be searched."