it was a shock to mr. morgan when he learnt that miss harding had quitted cloverlea without a word to him. at first he could not believe that she had gone; that she could have gone without his knowledge. when belief was forced on him his language was unbecoming. while he was engaged in little matters of a sort which demanded privacy, and which had to do with the safe storage of certain articles which he had brought himself to believe were his own property, a wagonette arrived at the front door, which, the driver explained to the footman who appeared, had come to fetch miss harding. the footman, with the aid of a colleague, had borne the young lady's belongings down the stairs; for which she liberally recompensed them with a sovereign apiece; and she and her possessions were safely away before mr. morgan had a notion she was going. mr. morgan abused the footmen for not having said a word to him; which abuse they, having no longer the fear of him before their eyes, returned in kind. the butler had to console himself as best he could.
"given me the slip, have you, miss harding?" that was what he said to himself. "very well, my dear, we'll see; i'm not so easily got rid of as you may perhaps suppose. you're a pretty darling, upon my sam you are!"
as soon as circumstances permitted--at cloverlea there were a great many things which he thought it desirable that he should do that day--he went out on a little voyage of discovery. he learnt at the local station that miss harding had not taken a ticket for her home in the west country; she had not taken a ticket for herself at all, mr. nash had taken one for her, and another for himself; they had gone up to london in the same compartment, and both had luggage. this news added to mr. morgan's pleasure.
"dear me, has she? and i meant her to be mrs. morgan, and so she would have been if i'd put on the screw when i'd the chance. as my wife she might have come to something; but as his wife--i'll show her, and i'll show him. if she thinks she's going to hand over to him, by way of a dowry, that nice little lot of money, and leave me out; if that really is her expectation she'll be treated to another illustration of the vanity of human wishes. that sweet young wife will have an interrupted honeymoon."
mr. morgan called at an inn which it was his habit to honour with his custom in quest of something to soothe his ruffled feelings. there he met a friend, george wickham, the holtye head groom. mr. wickham had a grievance, in which respect, if he had only known it, he resembled mr. morgan. it seemed that he was the bearer of letters which had been addressed to the hon. robert spencer at holtye, which he was carrying to that gentleman's actual present address, the unicorn hotel, baltash. it was supposed to be mr. wickham's "night out"; he wanted to spend his hours of freedom in one direction while baltash lay in another.
"might as well have sent 'em by post, or by one of the other chaps; but no, nothing would please the old woman"--by "old woman" it is to be feared that he meant the countess of mountdennis--"but that i should go. i had half a mind to tell her i'd an appointment."
mr. morgan was sympathetic; he explained that he was going to baltash, and even carried his sympathy so far as to offer to take the letters for him. the groom hesitated; then decided to take advantage of his friend's good-nature.
"there's thirteen letters," he pointed out, "five post-cards, four newspapers, eighteen circulars, and these parcels, about enough to fill a carrier's cart."
mr. morgan laughed.
"i shall make nothing of that little lot," he said. "and i'll charge nothing for carriage."
on the way to baltash he leaned against a gate to light a cigar; it was one of his peculiarities to smoke nothing but cigars; he held that a pipe was low. when the cigar was lighted he remained a moment to glance at the letters he was carrying. he noticed that one of them was from the london offices of a steamship company; the name of the company was printed on the envelope. while miss lindsay had been talking to mr. spencer in the copse on the preceding sunday morning mr. morgan had been quite close at hand; the lady had supposed that the noise he made among the undergrowth was caused by a hare or a rabbit; had mr. spencer proceeded to investigate the cause of the noise the butler would have been discovered in a somewhat ignominious position. as it was mr. morgan, remaining undetected, heard a good deal that was said; among the things he heard mr. spencer's story of the letter which donald lindsay had sent to him at cairo, which was only to be opened after the writer's death, which mr. spencer had put in his suit-case, and which suit-case mr. spencer had lost, containing not only mr. lindsay's letters, but also some more intimate epistles from that gentleman's daughter.
mr. morgan remembered the story very well; he had a knack of remembering nearly everything he heard, and he managed to hear a good deal. he was struck by the fact that the letter which he held in his hand was from the steamship company by one of whose boats mr. spencer had travelled on his homeward journey; it might contain news of the missing suit-case. on the other hand, emphatically, it might not. still! it is notorious how carelessly some envelopes are fastened. here was a case in point; the gummed flap only adhered in one place, and there so slightly that mr. morgan had only to slip the blade of a penknife underneath and--it came open. it was as he had guessed. the steamship company wrote to say that the missing suit-case had turned up. it had strayed among the voluminous luggage of an american family, where it remained unnoticed until the luggage had been divided up among the members of the family; the explanation seemed rather lame, but it appeared it was the only one that steamship company had to offer. now the suit-case was at mr. spencer's disposition, and the company would be glad to hear what he wished them to do with it.
as mr. morgan enjoyed his cigar, and leaned against the gate, and looked up at the glories of the evening sky, he indulged in some philosophical reflections.
"it's an extraordinary world; extraordinary. to think that george wickham's burning desire to see that red-headed girl of his at addlecombe should have thrown a thing like this right into my hands. it's quite possible that that suit-case may turn out to be worth more to me than that nice little sum of money with which miss elaine harding erroneously supposes she's going to set her husband up in life. beyond a shadow of doubt things are managed in a mysterious way."
mr. morgan faithfully delivered those letters at the unicorn hotel at baltash, with the exception of one letter; and on the morrow he treated himself to a trip up to town. he took a bedroom at a quiet hotel in the neighbourhood of the strand, and he sent a messenger boy to the steamship company's office with an envelope. in the envelope was the hon. robert spencer's visiting card; on the back of which was written--
"your letter duly received; please give suit-case to bearer."
some one at the office gave it to the bearer; who took it to the hotel, where it was sent up to mr. spencer's room; it happened that mr. morgan had registered as robert spencer. mr. morgan opened it with difficulty; none of his keys fitted the lock, which was of a curious make; but he did open it; he was an ingenious man. and when he had opened the suit-case he found that the letter, for whose sake he had taken so much trouble, was not in it. it was a painful shock; he was loth to believe that a man of the hon. robert spencer's character could have played him such a trick; to say nothing of the deceit which, in that case, he must have practised on miss lindsay. he turned the contents of the case over and over, subjecting each article to a close examination. no, there was nothing there which in any way resembled the letter which he had heard mr. spencer describe. what was almost worse, as showing the lover's utter unreliability, there were none of miss lindsay's letters either. mr. morgan had distinctly heard mr. spencer tell miss lindsay that in his missing suitcase were not only her father's unopened letter, but also some letters of hers. what confidence could be placed in the man who, at such a sacred moment, made such a gross mis-statement to the woman whom he professed to love? it was dreadful; mr. morgan was pained beyond measure. in the future he would never be able to believe anything he overheard; even though his ear was glued to the keyhole. he was a dispirited man.
he did not return at once to cloverlea. as a matter of fact he had brought with him to town a number of packages of various shapes and sizes. he had some trouble in removing them from cloverlea; but he had removed them, having dared mr. guldenheim and his friends and minions to do anything to try to stop him. he devoted a few days to the bestowal of these trophies in a safe place. when he did return to cloverlea he put up at the village inn, whence he kept an eye on the doings of the neighbourhood. having succeeded in screwing out of mr. guldenheim more than was due to him for wages, and in lieu of notice, he attended the sale with melancholy feelings, going so far as to purchase some lots for which he felt a sentimental interest, and which he had reasons for knowing were going for much less than they were worth.
it was only after the sale that he ascertained what he thought was likely to be miss harding's present address. he had made regular, and persistent, inquiries at mr. nash's office; but nothing had been heard of that promising solicitor by his staff, which consisted of a weedy youth of seventeen summers, with whom mr. morgan was on terms of the closest intimacy; until there came one morning a curtly worded request to forward any letters which might be awaiting him to mr. nash at an address which he gave. mr. morgan saw that address; a couple of days after he called there.
the address was at that charming south-coast seaside resort, littlehampton, 27, ocean villas. ocean villas proved to be some quite picturesque cottages fronting both the common and the sea; 27 was, perhaps, the most picturesque of them all. the front door was open in the confiding way one finds at seaside resorts, and which saves the trouble of having to open it; mr. morgan, entering, rapped on the floor with his stick. a diminutive maid instantly appeared who, without waiting for him to state his business, instantly broke into breathless speech.
"if you've come after the rooms, sir, if you please mrs. lorrimer's not in, but if you'll wait half-a-minute i'll fetch her."
mr. morgan explained that he had not come after the rooms; he asked if mrs. nash was in.
"mrs. nash is out, sir, along with mr. nash; i did hear them say they were going to arundel."
"i'll wait till they return; which are their apartments?"
"this is their sitting-room, sir."
she opened the door of what, for a lodging-house, was quite a pleasant room. mr. morgan entered; the maid went; the moment he was alone mr. morgan did what he always did do when he found himself alone in a strange apartment, he treated everything it contained to a rigorous inspection, and was still engaged in doing so when the diminutive maid reappeared.
"if you please, sir, i'm going out to do some errands, and if there's anything you want would you mind letting me know before i go; though i really shan't hardly be five minutes before i'm back again."
on the visitor assuring her that he was not likely to require her services during the next five minutes she departed to do those errands; scarcely was her back turned than mr. morgan started on what might have been a tour of curiosity through the house. he got no further, however, than the room behind the sitting-room, which proved to be a bedroom; unmistakably the sleeping apartment of mr. and mrs. nash. against the window stood a large trunk, a lady's; mr. morgan tried it; it was locked. he surmised as he eyed it.
"what's the betting that in there isn't that nice little sum of money? i wonder if she's told her loving husband that she's got it, and where it is; if she has i wonder how much he's left her. it might be worth my while to look and see; but i think i can manage to get all i want without what would look to the ignorant eye like dabbling in felony. what's that?" "that" was something which lay on the floor just underneath the bed; something which resembled a letter-case. he picked it up. "i rather fancy that this is the property of my friend nash. looks as if it had fallen out of his pocket while he was putting on his coat, and that he hadn't noticed it had fallen; extraordinary how careless some people are about things of that kind. it is a letter-case; let's hope there's nothing in it which he would not like to meet the public eye. what have we here? papers which, apparently, are of value only to the owner. what's in this?" in one of the compartments of the case was a single paper. mr. morgan took it out, unfolded it, read it, not once only, but twice, and again a third time. the contents of the paper seemed to puzzle him; he stared at it hard, rubbing his forehead as he did so, as if he hoped by the mere force of vision to get at its meaning. then he smiled, as if suddenly a light had dawned on him. "so that's it, is it? to think of his leaving a thing like this lying about on the floor! what a foolish man! i never had a high opinion of herbert nash; but that he should leave a thing like this for any one to find, and borrow; dear, dear! i never should have thought it. let's replace these papers which are of no value to any one but the owner. and the case we'll put upon the mantelpiece; so that he'll see it directly he returns, when he'll understand the risk he's run." the letter-case which he had picked up from the floor he put on the mantelpiece, in plain sight; but the paper which he had taken from it he slipped into a case of his own; and that case he placed in his own pocket. when the diminutive maid returned with a basket full of parcels, she found him lounging on the doorstep. his manner to her was affable; as it nearly always was to every one. "you've been rather more than five minutes, haven't you?"
"yes, sir, i'm afraid i have; but they kept me at the grocer's."
"did they? ah! i don't think i shall wait for my friends to return." he grinned as he said "friends." "tell them that mr. morgan called; mr. stephen morgan, of cloverlea. do you understand?"
"yes, sir; mr. stephen morgan, of cloverlea."
"exactly. and you can also tell them that i shall call again; i can't say quite when, but i certainly shall call again before they leave littlehampton. you understand that also?"
"yes, sir; you'll call again; you can't say quite when, but certainly before they leave littlehampton."
"that's it; you have it just right. mind you give them the messages as i gave them you; and here's a shilling for your trouble."
he presented her with a shilling; and left the maid all smiles.
