Chapter VII: A Letter, and a Fatal Chase

Three months had passed since the break-up at Blackrock School, and Martin had faithfully fulfilled his promise to keep up a brisk correspondence with his old friend. But no letter gave Howard a keener pleasure, than the one from which the following extracts are taken, and which will connect the history of events:

TO HOWARD PEMBERTON.

MY DEAR OLD CHUM: Every day I seem to miss you more and more, and I
only wish the time had come for me to throw off school and take my
plunge, as you have done, into the great stream of life. I don't
take an interest in anything now; even cricket is a bore, and the
talks about forming for foot-ball fail to start me up. The Doctor
evidently misses you, and very often inquires after your welfare.
He is not himself at all. I think the end of last term shook him a
great deal. Mrs. Brier is as she always was. I don't know what some
of us would do without her.

Is not my cousin spending a very long time at Ashley House? I think
I told you I was invited to go and see her there, and I could write
you a dozen pages or more about the visit, if time allowed--but it
doesn't. Madeleine and Ethel are as thick as thieves. I can quite
believe that my cousin has cheered and helped them all very much in
this time of their great trial, and I don't wonder at any girl
loving her, for she is a first-rate companion, and as good as she
is beautiful.

I had a long chat with Mr. Morton, and he appeared to be much
interested in hearing me talk of poor Digby's ways and doings
amongst us. But you hardly know sometimes whether he is awake or
asleep when you are talking to him, for he keeps his head buried in
his hands. He seems regularly smitten down, poor man! He is talking
of going abroad for some months, and I think it will do him good.
If he goes, it will only be upon the condition that Madeleine stays
with Ethel. I shouldn't be surprised if she were to become a
permanent resident there.

I don't know if you ever heard Madeleine's history. It is a
singular one, like my own. Her father and my father were partners
in business. A fire ruined them both; and, as you know, an accident
on the railway occurred which proved fatal to both. My poor mother
I never knew, and she knew nothing of these troubles; but
Madeleine's mother had to bear them all, and the weight was too
heavy; she died broken-hearted, the life crushed out of her by
misfortune upon misfortune. So, up to the present time, Madeleine
and I have been, to a very great extent, dependent upon others; and
as our circumstances in life have been so strangely similar, we are
more like brother and sister than cousins. I shall be very glad,
for her sake, if she finds in the Mortons more than is ordinarily
found in chance friends. And I shall be glad, for my own sake, when
I can release the dear old Doctor from the burden with which he
willingly shackled himself when he took me under his care.

I wish I could have a good long talk with you, my dear old boy, on
this and a hundred other subjects; but I can't. And now I must
knock off for to-night, as the Doctor has just sent for me.
MARTIN VENABLES.

P. S.--I write in a violent hurry. The Doctor has read some
extraordinary news in the paper just in from London. It is about
the missing miniature, found on a prisoner. He will leave here for
London by the 7.45 train in the morning. I want this to catch the
post, so cannot write more, except that the Doctor wishes me to say
he will be sure to see you before he has been long in London.
M. V.

This postscript threw the little household at Rose Cottage into a great flutter at the breakfast table the next morning.

"What can it mean?" asked Howard. "Have you seen anything in the paper, uncle, to which it refers? I have not seen the paper for a week."

"'Pon my word, I don't know," said Captain Arkwright. "It can't be--yes, it may, though. Just wait a minute."

The Captain jumped up, snatched the paper of the day before from a side-table, and began to search for a particular heading, which, of course, was not on the pages he had first opened.

"Here it is!" he cried at length. "It is headed, 'A Fatal Chase.'"

"Let me see it," said Howard, almost trembling with anxiety, as he ran his eye hastily over the report.

It ran on this wise:

A robbery was committed a few days ago on the firm of Robinson &
Co., of this city, a report of which appeared in our columns. From
information received by the police, a person who had taken a
passage on board the "Ariadne," for New York, was suspected, and
warrants were issued for his apprehension. The arrest was made, but
as the police were bringing the prisoner from the vessel to the
quay, a violent struggle ensued. Police-constable Janson was hurled
by the prisoner over the edge of the quay into the water, while he,
quick as lightning, made a rush to escape. He fled as far as the
end of the quay, and was making for the draw-bridge, where he would
soon have gained the open road, when his foot caught in a rope,
which threw him with fearful violence over the wharf into the pool.
In falling, he appears to have come into collision with a boat, and
when his body was recovered he was found to be quite dead. The
deceased was a young man of powerful build, and had taken his
passage under the name of James Williams; but no clue has been
obtained at present as to his antecedents. Upon his person was
found a bundle of bank-notes, a sovereign, and some silver, and in
a side-pocket was a miniature portrait of a young lady, of very
beautiful workmanship, set in gold and studded with precious
stones. The police are making searching inquiries, and as it is
thought that this valuable portrait must have been stolen, it is
believed that it will lead to further discoveries.

How Howard got through his work at the office that day, he was at a loss to know, for nothing remained on his mind for a moment at a time, except the vague and curious report about the Fatal Chase, and the anticipated visit of the Doctor with further particulars. No sooner had the clock struck six, than he sped away from the office, trusting to his legs to carry him more quickly than the omnibus or car.

Before he had time to ask, "Any news of the Doctor?" a well-known voice was heard, and the outstretched hand of his old friend grasped his.

"Well, my dear boy, how are you? You see, I need no introductions. Here I am, quite at home in your family circle."

"And what news, Doctor Brier?"

"A great deal, satisfactory and unsatisfactory. But come and sit down, and I will tell you the whole story."

The whole story took a long time to tell, but it may be summed up in a few words.

The unfortunate man, who met his death so violently, was identified as a person who had once been in the employment of Messrs. Robinson & Co., ship-owners. The notes found upon him were traced as notes he had received in payment of a cheque forged in their name. But no information could be obtained as to his antecedents, nor the series of events that had brought his career to so pitiful a close. The greatest mystery hung about the fact of the miniature portrait; no clue of the faintest kind could be obtained as to how it came into his possession, but the Doctor had identified it, beyond the least shadow of a doubt, as the one stolen from Blackrock House.

It was necessary for the Doctor to remain in town for some days, and Mrs. Pemberton would not hear of his making a home anywhere else than at Rose Cottage. To this he was nothing loth; and to Howard, the presence of his old friend and master in the house, was a source of unqualified satisfaction.

Many a time they speculated about the strange secrets which lay locked up in that little miniature, and wished they could devise some means to extort them.

"But we must watch and wait," said the Doctor. "I seem to feel satisfied that we shall clear up the mystery some day."

The "some day" was very far ahead. Meantime, a verdict of "accidental death" was returned upon Williams. The miniature was formally made over to the Doctor, and when he had completed all the inquiries which could be instituted, and was nearly worn out with visits to and from the police and inquisitors generally, he bade adieu to the little circle of friends, and once more the veil, of which only a corner had been lifted, fell over the circumstances.