THE FLY,
BY S. BASING GOULD,
Author of "Mehalah," "John Herring," &c.
CHAPTER 1.
I filial! never forget that week of misery and ; despair when my father died. He was clerk oh one of the railways, and in receipt'of a modest salary of a hundred and fifty pounds. It sufficed for my motherland me. I was the eldest cliild, a daughter, and there was my brother, a baby.
My father was a sanguine man. Ha. was regular and punctual, conscientious and steady, and hoped, was convinced, that he would be advanced by the Company. He had a good bit of rituning about, up and-down the line, and sometimes very harassing work, work that kept him to his desk for loug hours. But lie liked it, took interest in it, aud threw him self into the work of his Company with a sort of esprit de corps which was somewhat touch ing and also somewhat amusing. If he was loyal to his Queen, he was equally loyal to his Company,
Some peculiarly hard work came on about Christmas time, and the weather, after having been unusually mild, veered about into being unusually severe. The office was heated, perhaps too much, perhaps it was not pro perly ventilated; anyhow, my father, after having been in it many hours, was suddenly required to be on the platform in a cutting wiud, with the .mercury below" zero. The result was manifest a day -later. He com plained of not feeling well, but as there was so much business to attend to he persisted on going to the office. When he returned it was to be put to bed—he had inflammation of the lungs, and in two days was dead. The effect on us—my mother and me—was stun ning. She was rather frail, had been so Bince my brother's birth, and never had a very good spirit. When the funeral was over very little money remained to us, and what to do for the future we did not know, My mother sat by the fire aud wept, and when I asked her what was to be done her answer was, "My dear Jane, do not ask me; .1 really don't
know."
I enquired of her whether my father had any income beyond his salary. She replied, ".Really and truly, Jane, I know nothing about money matters; you must not ask me."
This was awkward, as there was no one else to ask. I enquired of her whether we should have to give up our house, and if so, when the noticesliould besentin to the landlord. "Jane," answered my mother ; "I have not the
smallest idea in the world."
I was then aged seventeen, and I found that everything devolved on my shoulders. It had been so during my father's brief illness. I had nursed him, sent for the doctor, given him his medicine, made biin his mustard poultices. When he,was dead, all also had devolved on me. My mother, as she frequently informed me, was a bundle of nerveB and nothing else, just as the post said of the nightingale when served up for his dinner, " All, song and no thing else." Each object in the world has his or her special calling; the vocation of the nightingale is to sing, my mother's was to bo a bundle of nerves; Happily, mine is to be active and industrious. 1 may havesentiment in me; I think I have, inherited from my mother; but circumstances have been against its development. Possibly, in the course of this story, the reader may perceive that, practical as I may be, I also have nerves aud poetry in me, that is to say sentiment. What was to lie dono? Again 1 appealed to my mother. " Why, really—I have ngt an idea,
in my head," and upon my word I believe she
spolce the truth. 1 he Company behaved very well. My mother, as widow," was allowed a cer tain sum, not enough to support her and us,but enough to materially assist us in the struggle for existence. But then how to struggle, my dear mother, as a bundle of nerves, had no notion. #
So everything came on me. I calculated aud considered and took advice, but found that the latter was not of much use—as friends
fought shy of us, thinking they might bo asked to help and maintain us, and the advice that they tendered was chiefly self-interested— to get us away from whore we were as quickly as possible.
Putting two and two together I resolved to remain where we were, and to help out our minute income by taking in lodgers, and we were happy enough to secure as our first lodger Mr. Wiggles, yic clerk appointed in my
father's room.
son, amiable and intelligent. He was not beautiful, and his legs were rather peculiar, the shinbonos curving inwards. But what can you expect of a man whoso name is Wiggles? Surely not the aspect of a god. He was amiable, somewhat commonplace in his ideas, but you cannot expect the character of a Viking in a man called Wiggles, can you? The place where we were, was by the seaside, and was of importance, because it had two seasons, a_winter and an autumn one. It was mild in winter and sheltered from cast winds, consequently invalids came there from Novem ber to May; and there were fine sands and a good sea stretch, therefore visitors came at the time where schools break up, and tho London season ends, for six weeks of bathing, and Ijoating and dabbling, and sand-eastle build ing, and shrimping, and—because of the Downs —of golfing. We had a honso much larger than we required because of this. We calcu lated on getting some harvest out of the visitors, by letting our extra parlour and bed room. I moan extra supplemental to the room occupied by Wiggles. He had his meals with us. We did fairly well the first year.
Wiggles seemed settled in with us for good and all. I believe he rather fancied me, and only held back from proposing because, for one thing, I was so young, and for the other, he was aware that if he took mo he took over along with mo Herbert, my little brother, and that bundle of nerves, my dear mother.
Ho was not a passionate character, not a man of tnmultuousemotion—yon could scarcely expect that of a man called Wiggles.
If Wiggles loved ine there was nothing vol oanicin the soulof the man; his affection rather resembled a bubbling cauldron over a cottage fire. No lava-like outbursts, no roaring flame,
buc a little mild fizz. There was this in it—it went on for moro than a twelvemonth — it never grew less, it never waxed more.
Wiggles \va« not a being to occupy one's entire horizon, to overarch one's sky, to bo a perpetual-feast for one's soul; he was by no
means an ideal; Wwto--Ifelt-^« makeshift. Ifnonoblar, Apollo-liko man were to lie found, well, one mightln the end put up with Wig gles. Whea l thought thifi over, this was the conduskm I came to.
? As a dutiful daughter, on the approach of Valentine'fl.Day, leonsulted mymother. I said to her,* Darling xaother.Ibelieve that Wiggles, casts a favouring eye on me, arid 1 should not beat all surprised if at the approachin g festival
of lovers he should declare himself."
, " My dear Jane, I had not the smallest idea ?of this." -
"I have, mother. I see the proposal -in his soul; it stands in his eye, it quivers on Mb hps. Supposing he does propose—what shall I do, moflier."
"Lawk! Jane—howcanl tell?"
"Bat what did you do on a similar occa sion?" . '
_" I have not the remotest idea."
"And what would bo your wishes, mother?"
" There, Jane, I have no notion."
St. Valentine's Day passed, and Wiggles did not propose, but he nearly did. He looked at me with languishing eye; he sidled his ohair beside mine, and he sighed, and then re collected himself, and went to the piano, and sang "Beautiful star that shines so bright."
An event occurred which somewhat disturbed the tenor of our lives and, threatened to
materially alter the current of my life.
We got a lodger for a season. A young man, an invalid. Indeed, lie arrived in a bath chair, and had to be carried, or rather helped, upstairs to Ms room. He could walk, but with difficulty, aud a very little effort produced in him extreme exhaustion. He was very hand some, with dark hair and large dark eyes, and a slight dark moustache. His name was Adolplius Vere de Vere, and ho wore a laige gold ring with armorial bearings cut on the
cornelian.
I felt v/lien De Vera came into our spare roots" that Wiggles henceforth would be no where. He passed beyond my sphere—was swept out of it as the boy in Struwelpetor who walked out in a high wind with a gingham um brella. That boy was carried by a blast beyond the clouds, out of the reach of the eye, swept into space. So was Wiggles. I thought only of Adolphus Vere de Vere.
Everv dav our new lodsrer asked to be
wheeled out, and my little brother was able to roll him along in his bath chair. Often, also, at his express desire, I attended him on these wheelB out. I found him most intelligent, most interested in everything that conconied the neighbourhood; he asked a thousand ques tions, all of which I answered to the best of my ability.
When wo passed the Castle he enquired who lived thfere, and I informed him it was then the property of the Smiths, the Fits Auberon Smiths, I meant. The family was very well off; Mr. Fitz Auberon Smith was said to have fifteen thousand a year. They were going to have a dinner party that even ing, the daughter was engaged to be married, the neighbourhood had been invited to dinner, and there was to be a little dance after wards.
? Mr. Vere de Vere asked to have his bath chair wheeled up as near to the house as might be, I told him that undoubtedly we might go through the drive, as the party were out on a picnic at Beecher's Mouth Cave that day—and the gardener would not mind. He gladly acquiesced, and Herbert wheeled the poor in valid up the drive and along the lawn, where we spoke to the gardener, who showed us everything, and 1 believed received a tip of half a crown from Mr. De Vere. I said to the
gardener that I had taken the liberty, because the gentleman was a great sufferer, unable to walk, and was much interested in gardens, and indeed in everything. I had to point out to him the windows of the drawing-room, the dining-room, Mrs. Fitz Auberon's room and boudoir: indeed, all that I knew about the place. Then we retired, and lie expressed himself very finely to the gardener, and to me
lie was lavish in his thanks.
'•You see," said he, "a poor feeble creature liko myself has so few pleasures in life that little matters give mc greater delight than quite great ones would be to such as are in robust health."
" Have you been long ill?" I enquired.
" My complaint is chronic," he answered.
" You have not called in a doctor since you
have been with us," I said. "Our medical
attendant, Dr. Bush, is really an extraordinary
man, and he might be able to gi%-e you a valuable opinion,"
"Oh," he said with a sigh, " I have had the best advice, and all is in vain. I muBt wait and hope, but I must confess my hopes are small. What I really want is a sympathetic and tender nurse, cheerful, good-looking, com patible in tho matter of temper, and ready to abide by me as long as my frail life lasts." Then lie sighed, and looked at me with a mournful look in his beautiful eyes. I could have thrown myself at his head, or into his arms, with another word.
I was particularly cold and reserved to Wig gles at supper that evening. I felt that I had
but to wait and I would he Mrs. Vere do
Vere. Wiggles!—ugh! Wiggles! I could not help looking at the man. lie was plain, his hair was sandy, he had pale eycs; and his legs " were not shapely. His coat did not fit him, and he was baggy at the knees, and his right sleeve was glossy. Wiggles—ugh! Wig gles !
At supper. conversation turned on blue blood. Mr. Wiggles said he did not be lieve in it. Spectrum analysis, microscopic investigations, and chemical this and that—I forget the terms he used—had shown that all blood was much alike, aud that if there was any difference, it depended on the condition of the liver aud the digestive organs, and not on pedigree.
I was disgusted. I asked my mother whether she did not agree with me that you could always tell a man of aristocratic birth by his superior looks, dignity of carriage, straightness of limbs, by his nose, his eyes, his
intellect?
*' I'm sure I don't know. I haven't a no tion," said my mother.
"Look," said I, "at our lodger, Who for t)ne moment could doubt that his ancestors came in with the Conqueror?"
So the matter dropped.
Our house was not .in a street; it stood by "itself on a down, and looked seaward.
Mr. Adolphus Vere do Vere said be would retire to rest very early that night, and begged to have his supper—or rather dinner— for he dined late—sewed at an early hour in his little parlour. After which he said he would go to bed, as his excursion in the bath chair that day and the strong sea breeze had exhausted him.
His wishes were complied with.
I could not help thinking that evening of the grand entertainment at the Castle, of the numbers of guests who would be there—of the dances, of the dresses, of tho jewels! Thiuk ing of these I dropped asleep.
Next day a most alarming rumour spread through the little place. The Castle had been entered, and Mrs, Fitz Auberon's jewels had been taken from her dressing-room during the dance or the dinner—jewels of incalculable value—all gone with the exception of what she had worn that evening.
The extraordinary gutter was how- her dressing-room had been entered, for it waa a room sitoatedhighujvand with a window in the sea-face of the house, without a fall pipe from thereof, trellis work, or jasyiaing whereby^ny one might ascend.' It was there fore ooncludedthat the thief was in the house at the time, and the servants were suspected, if not of actually taking the jewels at any
rate of collusion, .
CHAPTER II.
The burglary at the Castle" caused the pro. fowidest excitement in^the place. A bout,the only person who took the matter coolly was that fellow Wiggles, who remarked, "Serve her right. Should keep her gew-gaws locked up. If women will be fools, they must suffer for their folly."
It was a relief to turnfrom him to Adolphus Vcre de Vere, who took the keenest interest
in the robbery, and exercised "his powerful genius in following out all the threads and in theorising on the manner in which it had been
executed. .
The way in which with his commanding intellect he surveyed the case was, in itself, an education.
"You will see, Miss Jane," said he, as I attended his wheeled chair, "that the dress ing-room could not have been entered from the outside. True—there were sash windows, and one was partly open. The reason of that 1 will tell you shortly. It is, of course, possible to reach the windows by means of a ladder, but tho only available ladders'were—one in the stable yard, and the other at a builder's place some 000 yards distant. Now, the ladders from the stables could not have been taken, for on account of the dinner party and ball, there were plenty of men about at the time with the horses and carriages. More over, it would not have been likely that burglars, after having ascended by means of the ladder, which we will suppose was taken
from the yard for the purpose, would be so, exact and conscientious as to carry it- back again, and rehang it on the crooks whence they had lifted it. You see this?"
, I replied that I did. <
"The same objection applies to the ladder of the local builder's. It was found in the morning where it had been the night before. Conceive of burglars taking it back along a road for no purpose, after they had possessed thenlselves of the jewellery1"
"Exactly," said I.
"Then," he continued, " Had a ladder been used there would have been marks in the gravel of the walk under the window where it was planted. And I have not heard that any thing of the Bort has been observed."
"Nothing," said I. "How clearly you pub things, sir."
proceed. There are no adjoining houses, so that it was nob possible to creep along roofs and get in by a skylight or attic
window. «»
" There are no houses at all nearer than ours, which is five minutes' walk distant."
"Then by what means could the window bo reachecj,? Theie are no lean-to roofs; there is no fall-pipe from the gutters. We may dis miss the window altogether from considera tion."
"Ibelieve," said I, "that the police are perfectly satisfied' that no entrance was effected from without through the windows."
"In that they show more sagacity than I would have given them credit for possessing. What apples to the window, also applies to the chimney—unless you think-that the bur glar was dropped out of the balloon, and des cended by a parachute right down Mr. Smith's chimney."
I laughed, and said that this was absolutely incredible.
" Then," continued Mr. Adolphus Yero de Vere, "at what conclusion do we arrive? How many openings are there into a room? Three, are there not 1"
"Yes, sir," I answered, "window, fireplace, and door,"
" And window and fireplace are excluded." " Then he must have entered by the door." " Quite so. But why he?"
" Do you mean to suggest that the burglar
was a woman?"
" I suggest nothing; but I would not jump at conclusions in these matters, but establish every stage in the enquiry, and so build up your theory by a series of eliminations. You say he. What makes you so sure that the jewels were talcon by a man?"
" I thought—of course—"
I stammered and blushed. T was as nothing before this great intellect. I felt it.
_ "Mako no assumptions whatever," he con tinued; " already you havo made throe. One in that you assume that the jewels were taken by a man, then that they were taken by one instead of several in a gang; thirdly, that they were carried off by burglars—that is to say by individuals who are so designated when they break into a houso. So far, all we liave assured ourselves is that the dressing-room of the lady was not entered either by the window or by the fireplace; therefore, it was entered by the
door. Now let us go on. The jewels were taken either at dinner-time or during the sub sequent dance. By what way was the door of Mrs. Fitz - Aubcron Smith's dressing-room reached? On what does that door open?"
"I know. I have been over the house. It opens on to the great landing at the end of the main staircase."
" Explain to me the interior structure of the house. Of what sort afe these stairs?"
" Oh! there is a sort of central hall, in which the people dance, and from this hall the stairs go up round three or four sides, I forget which, and it is all lighted up. When there is a ball, then the sitters-out go to (.hairs and sofas 011 the landings."
" You know all this?"
[ "Ob, yes! The Smiths gave a dance to a
lot of us middle-class people once bnforo my dear father died, and 1 was there, though so very young, because especially asked."
" Then the gallery or landing is not only lighted but occupied all the evening?"
"Not. I suppose, all the evening, not, of course, at dinner-time, but whilst dancing is going on."
" And during dinner-time the chambermaids are no doubt putting tidy the rooms in which their mistress and the guests have dressed?"
" I suppose so."
"Then, you see, 110 strange person could possibly go into Airs. Smith s dressing-room through the door without being observed?" 1
" Not whilst the sitters-out were there."
" Nor whilst daucing was going on. No one could well come up the stairs, lie 011 the landings, without attracting notice, if he were
a strauaer."
" Goodness!" exclaimed I, and a feeling as of cold water ran down my back. "You don't suppose that one of the ladies or gentlemen went in and stole the jewellery?"
" I hardly think this. It would have been thought a very queer thing if a guest had walked into the hostess's dressing-room. Such a thing might be—but is not likely. Those who sit out,-sit out in twos. Are there any persons who could go in and out without attracting attention?"
" None but the maids P
" Exactly—none but the maids. Now we have narrowed the enquiry greatly. Who are the maids?" .
41 All most < _
" You know t£em intimately?"
"No; I can't any that, but I have never heard aword against them."
"More negative reasons—worth nothing. Do you know that a girl in league with burglars.will sometimes farce her way into a large house,iwith forged testimonials, and will conduct herself there with the utmost pro priety for a wholqjnsar, even for longer, merely for the sake of committing such-a robbery as that which was perpetrated last night?"
I was staggered.
"You see, said he, we have completely demolished the theory of an entry haying been effocted from without. The thing must have been done from within, and almost) certainly was done whilst the family was at dinner, and done by one resident at the time in the house in some capacity or other, and who was familiar with the house and tb© various rooniB."
I was greatly disturbed.
The servants at the Oastlc were noted to be well-conducted, worthy persons. Mrs. Smith was most particular to nave only such as she was sure respected themselves, and would be a credit to her. It is true that recently she had had a new lady's maid, as the young woman who had been with her five years had got married. I did not know any particulars about the new servant, but I was quite sure Mrs. Smith would not have engaged one who would be so much about her person, and one, moreover, in a place of such responsibility, without having made every enquiry about 'her. I could"mott believe that she would have been taken in by forged testimonials. .
lsaid so to Mr. Vere de Veve.
" How was she to know forged from genuine
testimonials?" lie asked.
Later in the day we heard further news. The servants at the Castle had insisted on having all their boxes examined by the police. Mrs. Fitz-Auberon Smith had indignantly refused. She had said she would as soon mis trust her daughters as her servants; however, they were resolute; the examination of their trunks had been made, and had led to no in-. criminating discovorios. I told this to Mr. D©
Verc.
"Of course not,"he said. "Do you think one who had taken tho jewels would retain them in the house? She would know that ona of the first things to be done would be to
search the boxes of the domestics. Whoever took tho jewels had accomplices outside the building, and now the jewels are in town being divested of their settings, lest they should bo identified. Moreover, whoever took tho jewellery was a cunning hand. You remember that the dressing-room window was found
parciy open;
"Yes, I know."
" Very well—that was done by the robber so as to put the police on a false 6ceut, so as to have them believe that there had been a burglary from the outside, and that the burglars had entered and had escaped with the booty by the window."
I felt—for a while—vexed with Mr.
Adolphus de Vere. Of course, I knew it was no concern of his who was guilty, but it annoyed me that I had been forced by him to come to the conclusion that the guilty parties were inmates of the house, and among the
domestics.
" You will find, Miss Jane," said he " dare I, may I say, my dear Miss Jane, that there are great surprises in life, and that very often those are the biggest rascals whom we have least suspected."
" I am afraid it is so," said I with a sigh.
Mr. Adolphus Vere de Vere remained with us another fortnight. He did not exactly pro pose—but there was an understanding between us, which was unexpressed, save with our
eyes.
Not the smallest clue was discovered whereby the loss at the Castle could be accounted for. The painful part of the matter was that against her will and conscience, Mrs. Smith was obliged to suspect her servants, and they sus pected one auother. A shadow settled down on wlxat hitherto had been a harmonious house hold. Mrs. Smith often said, and I believe she «aid what was perfectly true, that what she regretted infinitely more than the loss of her jewels, was her loss of confidence in those
about her.
"By the way," said Mr. Vere de Vere, " when is Miss Smith going to be married?"
" In November."
"In November! The darkest—dreariest month in the year!"
"She cannot help it; her husband-elect is going out to India, and sails early in De cember. She, of course, accompanies him, and as the Irovsscau and all lias to be prepared, it was not possible to have it earlier,"
"And how about the presents?"
"Oil—there are sure to be heaps on heaps'. She is a great favourite. 1 hear the people of the town are going to present her with plate. There will bo magnificent presents, of that there can be no doubt. I am going to work her a pincushion."
"In November! Then I shall be here at the time."
"You will, Mr. De Vere? I am surprised and delighted."
" Yes, if yon will receive mo. Iam afraid of the fogs and first frosts of winter. I usually go to Algiers, but this year cannot afford it—I have lost on the Argentines—and must curtail my expenses. If you will receive me early in November, before the first, frosts, it will bo good of you."
"I am sure we shall'be delighted, Mr. Do
Vere."
"Dear me! Miss Smith to bo married then. Polks do say that one marriage always draws
on others."
My heart fluttered.
"Then,'' said he," farewell only for a little while, and then—" he did not finish that sen
tence.
And then—what was there comprised m these words—"and then?"
\Tu beconclvdal ntxl mcl:.}
THE FLY.
BY S. BAKING GOULD,
Author of "Mehalab," " John-Herring, "&c
CHAPTER IIL
I suppose that Mr. Wiggles felt tfaat^—not to put too fine a point on it, his nose had been put out .of joint by Mr. Adolphus Vere do Vere, for after he left there appeared in him a certain energy and urgency of his suit that I had not noticed before. He had been gal vanized into temporary jealousy.
The result was that I received a letter from
him. _ . .
Why he wrote when we saw each other twice if not thrice daily I am at a loss to say. How ever, write he did. And this was the letter I received fromliim -.—'
" Honoured Madam—
" It must have been obvious to your keen in telligence that £ have not for some time been insensible to your charms, both personal and conversational. It lies with you to make hie the most happy or the most miserable of men. I lay myself and my future at your feet, with expressions of the sincerest admiration and hope of the most assured happiness.
" Believe me, madam, to remain
" Your most respectful servant,
"Horatio Wig&les."
Now, it was really too bad, this letter. If it had _ been original, I might have condoned his writing in place of falling on one knee, and putting his band to his heart, waving the other—addressing me in terms of fervent sen
timent.
But it was not original. I knew the letter intimately. It was copied out of " The Polite Letter Writer." Wiggles was so devoid of genuine sentiment that he was forced to apply to a book of formulas to obtain one in which to make application for ray hand and heart. I was hurt. I was indignant. Mr. Vere de Vere would not have acted thus. But a De Voro is a Do Vere and a Wiggles is a Wiggles. You cannot make silk purses out of sows' ears. What is born in the bone comes out in the flesh. I did not answer him immediately. I determined to torture him first. He deserved it.
At supper that evening I led the conversa tion to names; and I said that, in my opinion, the name had much to do with the determina tion of a man's character, personal appear ance, and elevation of mind. Turning to my mother, I asked her if she were not of my opinion.
" My dear Jane," she said, " I have not the smallest idea in the world."
"Why,"observed Mr. Wiggles, "there are the Smiths of the Castle; who can lie nicer, more respected than they? And there are in the family not only characters of the highest description, but also a certain measure of good
looks."
" Yes, sir," said I severely; "all that is due to the fact that they are Fitz-Auberons. Smith is nothing; Fitz-Auberon is everything. Even in finest gold there is an amount of alloy. Smith is only the alloy to the pure aristocratic
metal of Fitz-Auberon."
"Well, I don't know," said Mr. Wiggles. '"A rose by any other namo would smell as sweet.'"
"Pardon me,"said I. "The cabbage rose is scentless."
"Then the Fits-Auberon Smiths should be oharacterless and featureless," retorted the clerk. " Set Smith against cabbage, and Fitz Auberon against rose."
As he pushed his plate away he saw a letter
under it." «
"Oh, my bill," he said.
I tossed my head. His bill, indeed ' It was ray reply to his letter.
This was my reply " Dear Sir—
"I beg most respectfully to notify the acceptance of yours of 9 p.m. ultimo, and beg, with the-same respect, to assure you that I could never be induced to change tho name of Tompkins for that of Wiggles. With senti ments of esteem and gratitude that you should have condescended to think of me,
" I remain, Sir,
"Yours obediently,
"Jake Tompkixs."
Mr. Wiggles took his conr/i well. It did not make him lose his appetite. This I parti cularly noticed. Next day we bad sausagesTtrr breakfast, and he ate two, whereas my mother pecked at half a ono, and I consumed another half. Herbert took but one—I daresay • he would have eaten another, but there was none for him left. To think of a rejected lover eat
ing two sausages and enjoying them after being refused! But what fineness of feeling, what delicacy of conduct can be expected of a Wiggles? We received no letter from Mr. "Verc do Vere. This rather disconcerted me. I had hoped that he would have written and disclosed his heart shortly after leaving. Then, oh, what a contrast would his letter have been to that of Horatio Wiggles!
But he did not write. Ho left the
declaration to his return at the I>egilining of
November.
Mr. Wiggles did not seem to he particularly pleased to hear that our infirm lodger was coming hack again. He gave vent to sarcastic remarks, which wore uncalled for, and calcu lated to wound my feelings. If he had con fined himself to speaking like this to me alone I should have know hown to set him down, but he perverted Herbert's mind, and gave it a turn against the man who in all probability would lie his brother-in-law.
Herbert very fond of Mr. Wiggles, and whenever the clerk had spare time he would take tho boy for walks on the cliffs or downs, and the creature had really some knowledge of tho ways of Birds and insects, and could discourse in an interesting manner thereon to a boy, and
engage his attention and awake his intellect. - Ho taught Herbert to observe and to think. This was true education; at school boys are taught to acquire by heart and go along a cur riculum of studies in an unreasoning routine. Consequently, I was really grateful to Mr. Wig gles for what he did for Herbert. His mind woke up under the impuLse given it by the clerk in a manner it never would have done under the chalk and blackboard system at the little grammar school to which we now sent
him.
I may here mention a couple o? circum stances that were very much talked about in oar town. I have not spoken of thwu already.
because theaffairaof my heart claimed a first ? place in my notes. But having said what I' desirfed to say concerning Mr. Veto de Vote" and Mr. Wiggles, J will now address myselfto these other matters. "X " .
It appeared that the robbery at the Castle was not the only thing of the kind that occurred about the same time—a most daring attempt on the Bank, a branch of a large county concern. The lower windows of the Bank are all barricaded with iron, and no one could' break through them. But above the offices of the Bank are the apartmenfa of the Manager^ The windows of these are hot* barred. His sitting-room occujtes the front towards the street, the bedrooms being to the
rear.
Now it seems that one night ju3t before the affair at the Castle one of these drawing-room windows was .entered, and the burglars having passed through the room descended to the Bank offices, where they forced the door, got in, and endeavoured to break open the iron safe in which were kept a certain amount of gold and securities, &c. The attempt was un successful. The lock resisted all efforts to open it, and it was not found possible to prise open the doo& The burglars took only a few trifles, and decamped. This was kept quiet ; the Manager attempted to hush the matter up, as there had been no material loss; neverthe less it leaked out after the affair of the Smiths, and was much commented upon. It was the opinion of the police and the public generally that a desperato gang of burglars was in the neighbourhood. But the discovery of them was difficult, not to say impossible. In the case of the Bank no collusion with servants wa8 thought of. The entry had been made by the window; marks of the tool winch had turned back the hasp of the sash were visible on the paint. The sash had been raised, and the burglars had entered the window.
How the fellows had succeeded in reaching the window was a puzzle^ it could only have been effected by a ladder. But the head of the police started a most ingenious system of ex planation. He held that such a thin£ as a telescopic ladder was possible, made of the finost steel tubes, which could be shut up into a space so small as to "be carried under one of those long greatcoats so much in vogue now. This telescopic ladder would, he said, consist of itemovaWle steel rungs, the two sides would be elongated, and the rungs run through hole3 in the sides, and in five minutes the whole ladder would be ready for use, and could bo dismantled more rapidly than put together. By this means he believed the Bank had been
entered. This theory hardly applied to the robbery at the Castle, as the height there was more than double that of the Bank, and it was
inconceivable that a light, portable telescopic
ladder would have served for so considerable an elevation. No fine steel bars could bear a man's weight at such a height—they must bend under nim; whereas at the Bank the first story was but thirteen feet from the
street.
This was what was talked about after, or along with, the affair at the Castle,
The other matter was rather too absurd to deserve mention, nevertheless I do mention it.
A very queer rumour spread like wildfire through the town that it was haunted, that a ghost had been seen at night coming down this or that street; but no sooner did the person who was walking in the street and observed it draw nigh, than whiah ! away went the ghost up the walls, over the roofs, and vanished into the clouds, for all the world like a shadow.
It was asserted that this apparition was not in a winding sheet, but was black; that it was not seen save on dark nights. Here it was that the difficulty arose. How was it that it was only seen when the nights were top ob scure for any one to see anything? The story wa3 not only intrinsically absurd, but it was aUo contradictory, and was dismissed by all intelligent and educated persons, and was only talked about with seriousness by the vulgar and ignorant.
Do you know how that, at the end of autumn, the flies congregate against a wall, buzz in myriads at a window, cover the coiling, and get into every warm corner? Whence they all corne is a wonder. They most of them die—the window-sill is a charnel-house every day of dead flics. Why they die one does not see, because the cold is not as yet intense, and there is as much food about as in summer.
Herbert was much interested in the flics. Mr. Wiggles pointed out to him one on a window pane surrounded by a white cloud on the glass, and he told Herbert that this was due to disease. The fly had eaten some seeds of a fungus, and this fungus grow in the system of the fly and penetrated through all its veins and pores, and at last pushed out micro scopic filaments, each of which was a seed .pod. He told Herbert that if ho had a good lens the fly would bo seen to be a very hedgehog, bristling with the little points of this fungus, and the white circle about the fly on the glass, ho said, were the seeds deposited.
Ho also showed Herbert the eye of the fly, and, holding it in the sunshine, let him observe how composite the organ was. According to Mr, Wigglas, each eye was made up of—I can't say now many hundreds of retinas. Her bert asked whether the fly saw everything multiplied to many hundreds. But ho replied that all the little nerves from these, retinas were twisted before they entered the brain, and so conveyed but a single impression to the fly. Next, Herbert remarked the flics on the wall and ceiling, and lie said to Mr. Wiggles, " How is it that the flies don't fall? They run up the side of the room and along the ceiling just as easily as we can walk on a level floor. I should have thought thov would have lost balance, and come down croppers."
"Cropper," said I, "is a vulgarism, Her
bert. Ia it not mamma?"
"My dear, I have no notion," answered my
mother.
"J. believe it is," said I, " so please, Herbert, not toemploy that slang expression again."
" The way in which it is contrived that flies should run where they like, up walls and along ceilings," said Mr. Wiggles, "is this, Herbert. By the power of suction implanted in their feet, f will go to the shoemaker and get you a bit of leather, and show you how their
feet, act."
The next day Mr. Wiggles bought a round piece of flexible leather to which in the centre was attached a thread. This he moistened and
Cut it on a stone, and to the surprise of Her
ert the stone could be raised.
"This," said Mr. Wiggles, "is a sucker. And the feet of the flies are suckers. By means of this simple contrivance they can go where they like."
" I've seen things like that," said Herbert. "Mr. Vere deVere has them in his room. He
put them on the table one day when the sun
shone in his window. He went out with old
Grubb wheeling him, and I peeped into his
room."
" Mr. Yere had suckers!"
" I only Baw them that once," said Herbert. "He used to keep his things in a portmantoau always locked, but that day he want out in a hurry between showers, and had not put the things away."
"In-dead!" said Wigglas, and his sandy eyebrows went. i,p. "Indeed! How very sin gular. In-deed
CHAPTER IV,
Early in November Mr. Adolphus Vere de Verereturned toour spare rooms. We—that Is I—received him with pleasure.
.*1 said to my mother, "Are you not glad to have him back -again? He gives very little
trouble."
"X really do not know what to Bay," an swered she. «•
1 saw that Wiggles grew grumpy and looked with an evil eye on He Vere, and no wonder, for I had refused him becauso Adolphus had gained my heart. He was, in fact, an i^eal man; blood blue of tho bluest, such an aristo cratic name andnose to correspond.
Besides, he was interesting, being an'in valid.
Of course I should have wished him to be in" robust health, but a handsome man, with an ancient name, languishing eyes, an aquiline dioae, and a well-trimmed dark moustache, even if obliged to be wheeled about in a bath chair, is immeasurably superior to a common place clerk with ordinary features, sandy hair, and the name of Wiggles.
This last individual was somewhat hard worked just now. The Company had altered its tariff of charges! so as to get a little more out of the public and into their own pockets, and the variation in rates was not quite settled and produced endless confusion. Consequently Mr. Wiggles did not return for his lunch, but carried sandwiches with him, and he was given a good supper, after which lie went back to the office. He was provided with a latch key, and came in or let himself out as he liked. When he was at his office we did not bar or chain tko front door, Mr. de Vero gave us no trouble worth mentioning. lie retired early to bed and roselate. He had his break fast; then, if the weather permitted, was wheeled out in his bath-chair. ' Herbert could not do this now, as he was at school, so we engaged for bim a pensioner named Grubb, who had occasionally wheeled him out before when Herbert was not available.
He took a light collation at 1 o'clock, and usually lay down for the greater part of the afternoon, on account of his spine, that was weak. He took no tea, but expected a good dinner at half-past 7.
The town was full of excitement over the marriage of Miss Smith with Colonel Moulin. Some said his name was Mullins, but it was officially given out as Moulin. Nothing was talked of in the place but the presents that had been sent. There were china globes—of not much present use, as they could not be taken to India, and seven sets of silver pepper cas tors and salt cellars and mustard pots to match. They were not all -of the same pat tern, however, so that there was one for every day in the week. The boatmen and their wives presented Miss Smith with a silver fish slice. Her grandmother sent hor a diamond necklace; her mother gave her earrings to match. Her father — a cheque. Several painted firescreens came in and much brass work. She received five blotting-cases, bound in tortoise-shell and brass. A rich uncle gave her a superb rubv-and-diamond broocli; an
aunt some fine old lace.
"I suppose that elaborate precautions will be taken this time against robbery," said Mr.
de Vere.
"Oh, yes!" said I. "AH in the place who like may go in and see. the presents, but a detective or two are always there, in plain clothes, to observe those who come in. If you like I will take you with me."
"No, thank you," answered Adolphus. " Wedding presents are much the same all the
world over."
" Not every one can havo such presents as Miss Fitz-Auberon Smith," said I. "You see the Smiths are so rich—I mean all her rela tives on the Smith aide. The Fitz-Aubcrona are poor but proud."
"So—detectives now?"
—"Yes," I continued, " and the rooms where the presents are to be kept and shown are. in the tower, on the third story, so as to be quite inaccessible from outside, and I hear that a light will be kept burning all night, and that a policeman will also bo on guard."
" Where?"
"Outside the roorn. The door will be locked and the key committed to Mr. Smith. You sen, noonecan possibly get in with the man on guard outside the door ail night long."
I see—it is well to take every precaution. No doubt the presents, or some of them, are
valuable."
" Valuable," said I, " is not the word. They are positively inappreciable. I am sure my pincushion alone is worth ten shillings."
I must now leave telling my own story to write clown something I. afterwards learned from Mr. Wiggles; but which J. here mention, because unless it bo related at this point what follows can hardly be understood.
Owing to the work in the office at the station, Mr. Wiggles was kept up into the small hours. He was much exhausted when he left, on his way to our house, and worried, for there was something like three halfpence in the accounts that could not bo accounted for, and a hot altercation had been carried on be tween our lino and the Great Northern relative
to this deficit. The}' charged it on our line, and our line threw it on the Great Northern. Wiggles had gone through all the vouchers, and checked every account, and could not ex plain where that three halfpence was wrong. The sum in itself was trifling, but to a man of rectitude and precision any mistake was annoying, and no rest conld he take for his busy brain till he had got to the bottom of the
mystery.
The night was not very dark. There was no moon, hut there was starlight.
Mr. Wiggles passed the "Castle," and saw a light burning high up in the tower, in the third story. Here, as he was aware, the pre sents for Miss Smith, shortly to become Mrs. Moulin, were being arranged. The marriage was to take place in a couple of days, and all the gifts had not as yet arrived. The grand exhibition in the tower would be on the mor row afternoon.
Mr. Wiggles was not much interacted in the wedding and its festivities. They nad little to do with the railway, and his interests were engrossed in the affairs of the Company,
As he walked along he tWight he saw a darfc, slim figure .steal forward in the same direction as he was taking. The way led no where, save to our house, and thence out on the downs, Tt was hardly conceivable that any one would be promenading on the cliffs between 2 and 3 in the morning. Nor wa3 it likely that any visitor would l>c calling at our house at that "time of the day.
Accordingly Mr. Wiggles was surprised. He stood still and listened, but heard no foot fall whatever. Then be pressed on, and saw, as he believed, the black figure glide to our house and pass like a shadow up the wall, and disappear at the first story. It was too dark for Wiggles to see exactly where it had vanished, hut he believed it was at the window of the sitting-room occupied by the rival lodger. Mr. Wiggles rubbed his eyes, beat his breast, and believed that he was the victim of an optical illusion. However—and here was another odd thing—just as he came up to our door, he distinctly heard the sash of the up-' .stairs drawing-room window let down. Tt had J therefore been open, and Mr. He Vere bad
crawled from his bod arid had closed it
I at precise]/ the time whoa that mysterious
shadow had been seen by him to slip up the wall
and enter the window..
Mr. Wiggles said nothing to me about , this next morning. He appeared to be peculiarly
cheerful at breakfast. That same afternoon I went to the Castle to see the ranged tables laden with presents. Wo entered the tower door, ascended a broad deal stair to a large room that had windows looking two ways, and which was accordingly light for the exhibition. As the tower was detached from the main por tion of the house this was very convenient for the family. The feet did not tramp up the great stairs, nor was there any invasion of the private portion of the house. ~
X admired the presents vastly, but, of course, I admired my own donation/the pincushion, most of all. I was pleased to see that it was given a place of hdnour. There could be no doubt that the two men who watched atten tively all who passed through the room were detectives in plain clothes, and I looked at them with almost as great interest as I did at the beautiful presents.
When I had seen enough I came away. Only a limited number of people were allowed in at a time. I saw that provision had been made outside the tower chamber door for the accom
modation of a policeman for the night.
Now I must return to Mr. Wigglos's story— that I was told later. That night he came away from his office somewhat earlier than tin the preceding one, and went direct to the police station^ where ho was at once wel
corned, and without more ado, lie and threa
policemen departed together, and by a round about way went to the Castle, where thov con cealed themselves in some tamarisk bushefr
j that formed a hedge, and from behind whifeh
the two faces of the tower could be observed
| in which were the windows of the room where
the presents were displayed. Thero they waited for two hours before anything was seen to reward their patience. At last the reward came. A shadow was seen stealing along the path; after a moment's delay it ran up tlie wall of the tower like a fly; and those watch ing saw it open and enter the window of the lighted chamber where weio the wedding pre
sents of Miss Smith.
_ They waited patiently, or rather impa tiently, for five minutes, not more, and then the shadow reappeared at the window, emerged through it, closed it, and came down the wall as before—like a fly. No sooner had tho shadow reached the bottom than it was in the hands of the police and of Mr. Wiggles, and proved to be not a shadow, but a substance.
"My goodness!" I exclaimed next morning
as the milkman informed me that there had been a burglary at the Castle, and that all the valuables presented to Miss .Smith had been carried off. "Oh, milkman J" T. said ; "was my pincushion among them?'' I sent Herbert
to knock at Mr. de Vere's door. I was sure he would be interested to hear the news. Herbert knocked, but received no answer. He knocked again and again, but all. remained silent
within. The door was locked, and we could not enter. Seriously alarmed we consulted one of the coastguards, who was passing, and he volunteered bv means of a ladder to enter
the parlour window of tho first story. Tho ladder was planted and he went up, hut returned rapidly with the astounding news that the lodger was not there; the bod was uii disturl>ed. Not a trace of him was to bo found.
"Jiut how did he get away?"' I asked rny
mother.
*'My dear,"'she answered, "I have not the smallest inkling of an idea."
Somewhat later Herbert t ame bounding in with an " I say ; here's a jolly lark."
"What is tho jolly lark, as you vulgarly term it?" asked I.
"I say, it's rummy, ain't it? There's that chap De Vere took up."
"Took up!" I exclaimed, in my agitation
"es of
and alarm, ignoring the principles of gram
mar.
"Yes," said Herbert. "And got all tho things from the Castle 011 liim. He—by Jove,
it's a rummy go!" t
"What's a rummy go?" I asked breathless" in my emotion, ignoring the fact that I was using slang.
" Why, it scorns that Master de Yore is not a Do Vere at all, but a Timothy Hoggins, a notorious burglar, and that lie was in all like lihood the chap that, cleared (iff Mrs. Smith's jewels. Anyhow, now he had bagged all tho daughter's precious stones, and was making off, when Mr. Wiggles and the police clapped himsm the shoulder. As for his infirmities, liis spine, and his debilitated hind legs, its all my eye and Hetty Martin. They made him walk to the police station. Ho was a queer
card."
"Goodness!"
"You may well say goodness, Jane," said the boy. " Do you know how lie did it? How he ran up walls? It was all done with suckers, an ingenious imitation of fly's feet on his hands and knees. They,should let him off cheap for his cleverness in doing that. J say, mother, ain't this awfully rum?"
"J. hadn't the least notion possible it could be. so?" said my mother.
I need not enter into particulars, tier narrate the agitation into whieh I was thrown.
It was as Herbert said. We had actually harboured a notorious housebreaker, who went among his "pals" by the name of "Gentleman Tim. His real name was not .Adolphus, nor was it Vere, nor Vere do Vere, but Buggins. Happily all the spoils of the Tower were on Hoggins when captured, but the jewels of Mrs. Fitz-Auberon Smith were never recovered. How little did I think thai: the words of Adol phus would come true—that our great sur prises would be. finding that those whom wo most trusted were the greatest rascals!
A month later, one day, Mr. Wiggles said to
me—
"Miss Jane—havr you seen it?" "Seen what, Mr. Wiggles?"
"Have you looked in the paper to-day?"
"No—is that unfortunate man De Vere's case come on?"
" I do not mean that. Did you look in tho
ad vertisements?"
I said T. did not.
Then he unfolded a newspaper, and showed me a notice to the effect that Mr. Horatio Wiggles, clerk, would change his name to Clan-Alpine.
"It this is inserted a certain number of times the job is done," said he.
"What—you assume the name of Clan Alpine?" I asked in amazement. "Are you in any way Scotch?"
" Dear me, no; I am a Cockney, my father Cockney, my mother ditto—so far as I know anything. But Clan-Alpine is a finemame. I took it out of the ' Lady of the Lake'—to—to please; you."
" It is a fine name—I should not mind that said J.
So it was settled. I was to become Mrs. Clan-Alpine, I never could have Ijccomo Mrs. Wiggles.
" My dear Jane," said my intended, "thero is a. vein of your mother in you.'"
" Is there?" said I. " Did you ever remark that, mamma—that I was like you in soma things?"
"My dear." said she, " f j-.<???? had tho slightest idea.'1
Tin: