Caught in a Trap Part 16

Instead of the dingy old melancholy house in Suss.e.x, she was in a bright little French cottage. The old dark rooms were exchanged for a simple _apartement bien garni_, with its tiled floor, and those wonderfully simple accessories which complete the mobilier of our friends on the other side; the half dozen extraordinary-looking straight backed chairs, the round table with its matting beneath, the elaborate fire-place with its porcelain belongings, and the mantel-piece with inevitable gilt clock and china shepherdesses.

The fat landlady was very kind, although she did not speak a word of English; still her husband prided himself on his knowledge of our language, a knowledge nearly limited to that of the Frenchman's of poor Albert Smith's acquaintance, who saying "Ah, Ya-as! I spik Englise-- portair--bier--rosbif--G.o.d dam!" there wound up the catalogue of his accomplishments.

But Mere Cliquelle was kind in her way. She understood from Markworth that "Madame" was very delicate; and as she had a separate room and looked very pale, Mere Cliquelle tried to make her very comfortable by always nodding to her, and smiling whenever she came into the room, which she was constantly doing to bring Madame sundry little pet-dishes or plats of her own _cuisine_ and bonbons _ad infinitum_.

Susan was soon very happy, and as gay as a bird in her new home. She had been sensible enough before; but she was now light-hearted as well.

Markworth devoted himself to her. He would take her out constantly for walks along the bustling quays, where Susan liked to watch the gaily dressed sailors, and the s.h.i.+ps and tiny craft in the harbour. Every sailor on landing seemed to bring home half a dozen parrots or crimson birds of the tropics. You never can see such a lot of "imported" birds, as the Americans say, anywhere else, as at Havre.

Susan and Markworth were quite a study for the simple French couple with whom they abode. They thought "Madame" so beautiful and affectionate; and Monsieur, "_Mon Dieu! un galant homme_, and _so_ handsome:--a rich Milor Anglais, no doubt."

Thus a month had pa.s.sed by; and Markworth thought that the time for him to act once more had arrived. His training had not been lost on Susan.

Thanks to his indefatigable efforts she was now fully restored, and she would be the best witness he could have in court should he be forced to go to law in order to gain his rights to her money. He had indeed devoted himself to the girl's cure especially for this object, but he had also been led on by a species of real zeal in the case. He had seen from the first how easily Susan, by proper influences, could be led to regain her mind, and had steadily persevered in that direction.

If anyone else had spent as much time and trouble on her long ago, Susan would never have required his aid, but she had been neglected, left alone in that old house; and Doctor Jolly, with all his cleverness as a medical pract.i.tioner, had not understood her case.

Markworth was proud of his triumph, apart from the consideration that his own well-being was interested in Susan's recovery. He was proud that his hand had wrought the cure; and besides, he was really concerned about the girl on her own account. Her entire faith and confidence, and her blind wors.h.i.+p, touched even him, while her love had made him have a friendly regard for her, which might or might not grow deeper.

There were one or two good points in his character, as is the case with all bad men. He was not brutal, or naturally bad hearted, but at the same time he was careful of his own interests. If he had got Susan's money, for example, he would not then have turned her adrift. She loved him like a faithful dog, and it was not in his nature to kick a dog away. He was kind to her because it suited his purpose: it was necessary to her cure, and besides he had no reason to be otherwise.

At the end of a month, therefore, he determined to make some move.

He had seen an advertis.e.m.e.nt for the lost girl in the "Times," which he had given directions to have sent over to him here. The advertis.e.m.e.nt had appeared a very few days after the date on which he had removed Susan from The Poplars, and had been continued repeatedly since; but that did not flurry him much. He knew he could not be traced, and as the had no feelings of compunction for the anxiety which might be occasioned by her disappearance, he determined to suit his own time when to make the news known of her safety and present condition.

He was certain that Clara Kingscott would not give any information about him, as she was a clever woman, and was obliged on her own account not to implicate herself in the abduction of the girl, and was besides anxious to get the remainder of the money he had promised her for aiding him; so he could afford to take his own time and play the game just as he chose, for the cards were in his hand.

He thus let a month run, and Susan being quite happy and settled down in their comfortable lodgings with the Mere Cliquelle in the Rue Montmartre, he thought he would go over to London for a couple of days or so, and set his plans to work. He also wanted more money, and that was a potent reason for taking him.

Susan was disturbed at first on learning that he was going away, but was as quickly consoled when he promised to be back very soon, and to bring her brother Tom with him; that was the only anxiety she had displayed on leaving her home. She had retained her love for her brother, and she feared he was angry at her leaving. She was delighted consequently to learn from Markworth, as he told her, that he was going to fetch him, for she was not yet aware of the great interests that hung at stake upon her.

Susan saw him preparing to start with many tears, and many directions for him to be back soon; after which Markworth left her to the kindly care of the Mere Cliquelle, who promised to look after her as her own child: he then crossed the channel.

He first visited his Hebrew friend Solomonson in Chancery Lane, whereby depositing sundry shares he had in a City Company, and giving a bond for about five times the amount, payable on his obtaining his wife's inheritance, he managed to obtain an advance of some hundred pounds to carry him on until the lawsuit should be determined.

Before coming to a final settlement, Markworth bargained some time as usual with the Jew, but had at last to accede to his terms; as it would have been difficult for him to get money from anyone else without stronger security. Indeed, the Jew only trusted him now because he was in a heavy venture, and because also, Markworth had always behaved honourably to him in his dealings before--and there had been many and various between the parties. But he would require sharp payment would the Jew with all his trust, and should he lose his case, old Solomonson would be the first to be down upon him.

He was apparently, he reflected, spending Susan's fortune before he got it; so he determined to set about securing it now as soon as possible.

Having already perused several times the advertis.e.m.e.nt for Susan, he knew well where the lawyer's offices were, where he was to apply, and he made up his mind to go there first before--as he called it--"tackling the old dowager."

To Bedford Row, he accordingly bent his steps; and he laughed jocosely, as he went up the staircase towards Messrs. Trump and Sequence's offices. "What a capital joke it will be," he said to himself, "asking them for that 'Fifty Pounds Reward.' I'm hanged if I don't do it;" and he walked in accordingly to startle Mr Trump.

Volume 2, Chapter III.

THE NEXT MORNING.

Just about the time when the curate of St. Catherine Cross' Church, in London, was asking Markworth whether he would take this woman, M. or N., to be his wedded wife, the dowager and the inhabitants of The Poplars awoke to the certainty that Susan had really gone off somewhere without leaving a trace behind.

She had not come to breakfast; she had not been seen about the premises or in the garden; she had not come into the house or slept in her bed all night; where on earth could she be? It was time, indeed, that some search or enquiry should be inst.i.tuted.

No time was to be lost!

The old dowager was fearfully excited on being made certain of Susan's disappearance.

She would not believe it at first; and, saying "It's all stuff and nonsense, the girl's hidden somewhere, I know," was not convinced until she had herself in person searched, every nook and cranny in the old house from top to bottom.

It was the first time that she had really showed any anxiety about the girl, for the old woman was very much troubled indeed. She was shrewd and business-like as usual, however, in her enquiries, and first examined everybody in the house before carrying the search further.

Miss Kingscott, the governess, said she had not seen her since the middle of the previous day, and she had supposed at first that she had gone out to walk with Mr Markworth. She had found out afterwards, however, that that gentleman had driven off early along with "poor Mr Thomas," she believed, towards the station, and so her pupil could not have gone to walk with him.

Miss Kingscott afterwards informed Mrs Hartshorne that she missed out of her wardrobe a black silk dress, and a shawl and bonnet. She supposed Susan had taken those with her, as her own walking things had been left behind in her, Miss Kingscott's, room. The old lady said snappishly that "she did not know what right she, the governess, had to suppose anything of the sort;" but she kept the information in her mind nevertheless.

The old servant, Martha, said she had not seen Miss Susan at all, as "she had too much work of her own in the kitchen for her to do, as was a disgrace for only one servant in sich a large 'ouse as she never see, and it were a burnin' shame it were a workin' one pore old woman worse nor any black n.i.g.g.e.r slave as ever was, that it were:" so no information was obtained from her.

George, on being summoned in to speak to the "old un," as he called the dowager, said that he had been "at work all t'day a diggin on t'petatus," and he had seen "no leetel miss" about the garden, but he "thort he seed un when he wor a goin' to his dinner, jist arter twelve, awalkin' in the far lot across t'fields with that gentelmun froom Lunnon, but he warn't shoor."

The old lady called him "an a.s.s and a grinning baboon" for his pains, and told him "get out and go to your work, man!" But George was right, for he had seen them as he said, when on his way back to the house after his visit to the "Jolly Spades," although his vision was then somewhat hazy, and his intellects more obtuse than usual from the large potations of home-brewed he had taken at such an early hour of the day--thanks to Miss Kingscott's liberality to him. The dowager was perplexed, but her cool, calculating temperament was soon at work.

She determined to send at once to her lawyers in London, and calling in the aid of the police to track the fugitive.

Doctor Jolly, too, who came in at this moment to see after Tom--rather earlier than usual for his professional call, but he was anxious about his patient--warmly applauded the dowager's resolve.

He, of course, was also startled at the news that Susan had not been heard of. "Bless my soul!" he said, when all the facts and enquiries that had been made were explained to him. "Bless my soul! It's very strange, very strange, indeed. She could not have stopped anywhere in the neighbourhood, or you would have heard of her before. She must have gone off to some distance. Did she have any money with her?"

"Oh, no!" said Miss Kingscott, to whom he had addressed himself.

"Fool!" spoke out sharply the dowager.

"Why, is it likely that I would give any of my hard-earned money to an idiot to throw away?"

The doctor confessed the improbability of Mrs Hartshorne's disposing of her surplus funds in the manner suggested, although he was somewhat indignant at the strong epithet applied to himself: he was, however, too much interested on Susan's behalf to cavil now about words with the old lady.

"Have you asked about her in the village and at the station?" he said, after reflecting a minute or two.

"What is the use of that?" replied the dowager; "all the people know about her at Hartwood, and would have stopped her. But you can ask yourself presently, if you don't mind going down there."

The doctor said he would; and the plan of the dowager, he thought, would, in the meantime, be the best one to pursue.

"Yes," said Mrs Hartshorne; "I shall send up to Mr Trump, in London, at once, and put the matter in his hands. He is a lawyer, and he will know what is best for us to do. I can't say I'm very fond of the girl,"

observed the dowager, drily, to which Doctor Jolly gave a decidedly affirmative nod; "but I would not like her to come to any harm. But who shall I send? Can you go?"

"Bless my soul!" replied Doctor Jolly. "I would go at once, but there's poor Tom; I can't leave him, for he's in a very ticklish state."

"True--true; poor Thomas! It's a pretty kettle of fish, all this happening just now."

"Let me go, ma'am," said Miss Kingscott, quietly.

"You!" snapped out the old lady. "What's the good of a girl like you going? What can you do?"