第112章

"Why did you not give him into custody, Richard?"

Richard Hare shook his head. "And my proofs of his guilt, Mr. Carlyle?

I could bring none against him--no positive ones. No, I must wait till I can get proofs to do that. He would turn round upon me now and swear my life away to murder. Well, I thought I'd ascertain for certain what his name was, and that night I went to the house, and got into conversation with one of the servants, who was standing at the door.

'Does Captain Thorn live here?' I asked him.

" 'Mr. Westleby lives here,' said he; 'I don't know any Captain Thorn.'

"Then that's his name, thought I to myself. 'A youngish man, isn't he?' said I, 'very smart, with a pretty wife?'

" 'I don't know what you call youngish,' he laughed, 'my master's turned sixty, and his wife's as old.'

"That checked me. 'Perhaps he has sons?' I asked.

" 'Not any,' the man answered; 'there's nobody but their two selves.'

"So, with that, I told him what I wanted--that a lady and gentleman had alighted there in a cab that day, and I wished to know his name.

Well, Mr. Carlyle, I could get at nothing satisfactory; the fellow said that a great many had called there that day, for his master was just up from a long illness, and people came to see him."

"Is that all, Richard?"

"All! I wish it had been all. I kept looking about for him in all the best streets; I was half mad--"

"Do you not wonder, if he is in this position of life, and resides in London, that you have never dropped upon him previously?" interrupted Mr. Carlyle.

"No, sir; and I'll tell you why. I have been afraid to show myself in those latter parts of the town, fearing I might meet with some one I used to know at home, who would recognize me, so I have kept mostly in obscure places--stables and such like. I had gone up to the West End this day on a matter of business."

"Well, go on with your story."

"In a week's time I came upon him again. It was at night. He was coming out of one of the theatres, and I went up and stood before him."

" 'What do you want, fellow?' he asked. 'I have seen you watching me before this.'

" 'I want to know your name,' I said, 'that's enough for me at present.'

"He flew into a passion, and swore that if ever he caught sight of me near him again he would hand me over into custody. 'And remember, men are not given into custody for /watching/ others,' he significantly added. 'I know you, and if you have any regard for yourself, you'll keep out of my way.'

"He had got into a private carriage as he spoke, and it drove away; I could see that it had a great coat-of-arms upon it."

"When do you say this was?"

"A week ago. Well, I could not rest; I was half mad, I say, and went about, still trying if I could not discover his name and who he was. I did come upon him, but he was walking quickly, arm-in-arm with--with another gentleman. Again I saw him, standing at the entrance to the betting rooms, talking to the same gentleman, and his face turned savage--I believe with fear as much as anger--when he discerned me. He seemed to hesitate, and then--as if he acted in a passion--suddenly beckoned to a policeman, pointed me out, and said something to him in a fast tone. That frightened me, and I slipped away. Two hours after, when I was in quite a different part of the town, in turning my head I saw the same policeman following me. I bolted under the horses of a passing vehicle, down some turnings and passages, out into another street, and up beside a cabman who was on his box, driving a fare past. I reached my lodgings in safety, as I thought, but happening to glance into the street, there I saw the man again, standing opposite, and reconnoitering the house. I had gone home hungry, but this took all my hunger away from me. I opened the box where I kept my disguise, put it on, and got out by a back way. I have been pretty nearly ever since on my feet reaching here; I only got a lift now and then."

"But, Richard, do you know that West Lynne is the very worst place you could have flown to? It has come to light that you were here before, disguised as a farm laborer."

"Who the deuce betrayed that?" interrupted Richard.

"I am unable to tell; I cannot even imagine. The rumor was rife in the place, and it reached your father's ear. The rumor may make people's wits sharper to know you in your disguise, than they otherwise might have been."

"But what was I to do? I was forced to come here first and get a little money. I shall fix myself in some other big town, far away from London--Liverpool or Manchester, perhaps; and see what employment I can get into, but I must have something to live upon till I can get it. I don't possess a penny piece," he added, drawing out his trousers pockets for the inspection of Mr. Carlyle. "The last coppers, I had, three pence, I spent in bread and cheese and half a pint of beer at midday. I have been outside that window for more than an hour, sir."

"Indeed!"

"And as I neared West Lynne I began to think what I should do. It was no use in me trying to catch Barbara's attention such a night as this; I had no money to pay for a lodging; so I turned off here, hoping I might, by good luck, drop upon you. There was a little partition in the window curtain--it had not been drawn close--and through it I could see you and Miss Carlyle. I saw her leave the room; I saw you come to the window and open it, and then I spoke. Mr. Carlyle," he added, after a pause, "is this life to go on with me forever?"

"I am deeply sorry for you, Richard," was the sympathizing answer. "I wish I could remedy it."

Before another word was spoken the room door was tried, and then gently knocked at. Mr. Carlyle placed his hand on Richard, who was looking scared out of his wits.

"Be still; be at ease, Richard; no one shall come in. It is only Peter."

Not Peter's voice, however, but Joyce's was heard, in response to Mr. Carlyle's demand of who was there.

"Miss Carlyle has left her handkerchief downstairs, sir, and has sent me for it."

"You cannot come in--I am busy," was the answer, delivered in a clear and most decisive tone.

"Who was it?" quivered Richard, as Joyce was heard going away.

"It was Joyce."