One Of Them

“Yes; old Layton seems to have a warrant, or something of the kind, against him, on a grave charge, but I had no mind to hear what.”

“So that, I suppose,” said she, laughing, “I am the only ‘innocent’ in the company; for you know, Mr. Trover, that I forged nothing, falsified nothing; I was betrayed, by my natural simplicity of character, into believing that a fortune was left me. I never dreamed that Mr. Trover was a villain.”

“I don’t know how you take it so easily. We have escaped transportation, it is true, but we have not escaped public shame and exposure,” said Trover, peevishly.

“She’s right, though, Trover, – she’s right. One never gets in the true frame of mind to meet difficulties till one is able to laugh a little at them.”

“Not to mention,” added she, “that there is a ludicrous side in all troubles. I wonder how poor dear Mr. Winthrop bears his disappointment, worse than mine, in so far that he has travelled three thousand miles to attain it.”

“Oh, he professes to be charmed. I heard him say, ‘Well, Quackinboss, I ‘m better pleased to know that the poor girl is alive than to have a million of dollars left me.

“You don’t say the stranger was Quackinboss, the dear Yankee we were all so fond of long ago at Marlia, and whom I never could make in love with me, though I did my very best? Oh, father, is it not provoking to think of all the old friends we are running away from? Colonel Quackinboss, Dr. Layton, and Alfred! every one of them so linked to us by one tender thought or another. What a charming little dinner we might have had to-morrow; the old doctor would have taken me in, whispering a little doleful word, as we went, about the Hawke’s Nest, and long ago; and you and he would have had your scientific talk afterwards!”

How old Holmes laughed at the pleasant conceit! It was really refreshing to see that good old man so cheery and light of heart; the very boat shook with his jollity.

“Listen! – do listen!” said Trover, in an accent of terror. “I’m certain I heard the sound of oars following us.”

“Stop rowing for a moment,” said she to the boatmen; and as the swift skiff glided noiselessly along, she bent down her head to listen. “Yes,” said she, in a low, quiet voice, “Trover is right; there is a boat in pursuit, and they, too, have ceased pulling now, to trace us. Ha! there they go again, and for Lindau too; they have heard, perhaps, the stroke of oars in that direction.”

“Let our fellows pull manfully, then, and we are safe,” cried Trover, eagerly.

“No, no,” said she, in the same calm, collected tone. “The moon has set, and there will be perfect darkness till the day breaks, full two hours off. We must be still, so long as they are within hearing of us. I know well, Trover, what a tax this imposes on your courage, but it can’t be helped.”

“Just so, Trover,” chimed in Holmes. “She commands here, and there must be no mutiny.”

The wretched man groaned heavily, but uttered no word of reply.

“I wish that great chemical friend of yours, papa, – the wonderful Dr. Layton, – had turned his marvellous mind to the invention of invisible fire. I am dying for a cigar now, and I am afraid to light one.”

“Don’t think of it, for mercy’s sake!” broke in Trover.

“Pray calm yourself, I have not the slightest fancy for being overtaken by this interesting party, nor do I think papa has either, – not that our meeting could have any consequence beyond mere unpleasantness. If they should come up with us, I am as ready to denounce the deceitful Mr. Trover as any of them.”

“This is very poor jesting, I must say,” muttered he, angrily.

“You’ll find it, perhaps, a very serious earnest if we’re caught.”

“Come, come, Loo, forgive him; he certainly meant all for the best. I ‘m sure you did, Trover,” said old Holmes, with the blandest of voices.

“Why, what on earth do you mean?” cried he. “You are just as deep in the plot as I am. But for you, how should I have known about Hawke’s having any property in America, or that he had any heir to it?”

“I am not naturally suspicious, Trover,” said she, with mock gravity, “but I declare I begin to believe you are a bad man, – a very bad man!”

“I hope and trust not, Loo,” said old Holmes, fervently; “I really hope not.”

“It is no common baseness that seeks for its victim the widow and the fatherless. Please to put that rug under my feet, Trover. There are barristers would give their eye-tooth for such an opening for invective. I have one fat friend in my eye would take the brief for mere pleasure of blackguarding you. You know whom I mean, papa.”

“You may push a joke too far, Mrs. Morris, – or Mrs. Hawke, rather,” said Trover, rudely, “for I don’t know by which name you will be pleased to be known in future.”

“I am thinking very seriously of taking a new one, Trover, and the gentleman who is to share it with me will probably answer all your inquiries on that and every other subject. I trust, too, that he will meet us to-morrow.”

“Well, if I were Trover, I’d not pester him with questions,” said Holmes, laughingly.

“Don’t you think they might take to their oars again, now?” asked Trover, in a very beseeching tone.

“Poor Mr. Trover!” said she, with a little laugh. “It is really very hard on him! I have a notion that this night’s pleasuring on the Lake of Constance will be one of the least grateful of his recollections.” Then turning to the boatmen, she bade them “give way” with a will, and pull their best for Rorschach.

From this time out nothing was said aloud, but Holmes and his daughter spoke eagerly together in whispers, while Trover sat apart, his head turned towards where the shadow of large mountains indicated the shore of the lake.

“A’n’t you happy now, Mr. Trover?” said she, at length, as the boat glided into a little cove, where a number of fishing-craft lay at anchor. “A’n’t you happy?”

Either smarting under what he felt the sarcasm of her question, or too deeply immersed in his own thoughts, he made no reply whatever, but as the boat grated on the shingly beach he sprang out and gained the land. In another minute the boatmen had drawn the skiff high and dry, on the sand, and assisted the others to disembark.

“How forgetful you are of all gallant attentions!” said she, as Trover stood looking on, and never offering any assistance whatever. “Have you got any silver in your purse, papa?”

“I can’t see what these pieces are,” said Holmes, trying to peer through the darkness.

“Pay these people, Trover,” said she, “and be liberal with them. Remember from what fate they have saved you.” And as she spoke she handed him her purse. “We’ll saunter slowly up to the village, and you can follow us.”

Trover called the men around him, and proceeded to settle their fare, while Holmes and his daughter proceeded at an easy pace inland.

“How much was there in your purse, Loo?” asked Holmes.

“Something under twenty Napoleons, papa; but it will be quite enough.”

“Enough for what, dear?”

“Enough to tempt poor Mr. Trover. We shall never see more of him.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I am certain of it. He was thinking of nothing else than how to make his escape all the time we were crossing the lake, and I, too, had no more pressing anxiety than how to get rid of him. Had I offered him a certain sum, we should have had him for a pensioner as long as he lived, but by making him steal the money I force him to be his own security that he ‘ll never come back again. It was for this that I persisted in acting on his fears in the boat; the more wretched we made him the cheaper he became, and when he heaved that last heavy sigh, I took ten Napoleons off his price.”

Holmes had to stop walking, and hold his hands to his sides with laughter. The device seemed to him about the best practical joke he had ever heard of. Then ceasing suddenly, he said, —

“But what if he were to go back to the others, Loo, and turn approver against us?”

“We are safe enough on that score. He has nothing to tell them that they do not know already. They have got to the bottom of all the mystery, and they don’t want him.”

“Still it seems to me, Loo, that it might have been safer to keep him along with us, – under our eye, as it were.”

“Not at all, papa. It is as in a shipwreck, where the plank that will save two will sink with three. The stratagem that will rescue us would be probably marred by him, and, besides, he’ll provide for his own safety better than we should.”

Thus talking, they entered the little village, where, although not yet daybreak, a small café was open, – one of those humble refreshment-houses frequented by peasants on their way to their daily toil.

“Let us breakfast here,” said she, “while they are getting ready some light carriage to carry us on to St. Grail. I have an old friend there, the prior of the monastery, who used to be very desirous to convert me long ago. I intend to give him a week or ten days’ trial now, papa; and he may also, if he feel so disposed, experiment upon you.”

It was in this easy chit-chat they sat down to their coffee in the little inn at Rorschach. They were soon, however, on the road again, sealed in a little country carriage drawn by a stout mountain pony.