Recollections of a Policeman

  Part IX.

  MARY KINGSFORD.

  Towards the close of the year 1836, I was hurriedly despatched toLiverpool for the purpose of securing the person of one Charles JamesMarshall, a collecting clerk, who, it was suddenly discovered, hadabsconded with a considerable sum of money belonging to his employers. Iwas too late--Charles James Marshall having sailed in one of theAmerican liners the day before my arrival in the northern commercialcapital. This fact well ascertained, I immediately set out on my returnto London. Winter had come upon us unusually early; the weather wasbitterly cold; and a piercing wind caused the snow, which had beenfalling heavily for several hours, to gyrate in fierce, blinding eddies,and heaped it up here and there into large and dangerous drifts. Theobstruction offered by the rapidly-congealing snow greatly delayed ourprogress between Liverpool and Birmingham; and at a few miles onlydistant from the latter city, the leading engine ran off the line.Fortunately, the rate at which we were traveling was a very slow one,and no accident of moment occurred. Having no luggage to care for, Iwalked on to Birmingham, where I found the parliamentary train just onthe point of starting, and with some hesitation, on account of theseverity of the weather, I took my seat in one of the then very muchexposed and uncomfortable carriages. We traveled steadily and safely,though slowly along, and reached Rugby Station in the afternoon, wherewe were to remain, the guard told us, till a fast down-train hadpassed. All of us hurried as quickly as we could to the large room atthis station, where blazing fires and other appliances soon thawed thehalf-frozen bodies, and loosened the tongues of the numerous and motleypassengers. After recovering the use of my benumbed limbs and faculties,I had leisure to look around and survey the miscellaneous assemblageabout me.

  Two persons had traveled in the same compartment with me fromBirmingham, whose exterior, as disclosed by the dim light of the railwaycarriage, created some surprise that such a finely-attired, fashionablegentleman should stoop to journey by the plebeian penny-a-mile train. Icould now observe them in a clearer light, and surprise at theirapparent condescension vanished at once. To an eye less experienced thanmine in the artifices and expedients familiar to a certain class of'swells,' they might perhaps have passed muster for what they assumed tobe, especially amidst the varied crowd of a 'parliamentary;' but theircopper finery could not for a moment impose upon me. The watch-chains,were, I saw, mosaic; the watches, so frequently displayed, gilt;eye-glasses the same; the coats, fur-collared and cuffed, wereill-fitting and second-hand; ditto of the varnished boots and renovatedvelvet waistcoats; while the luxuriant moustaches and whiskers, andflowing wigs, were unmistakably mere _pieces d'occasion_--assumed anddiversified at pleasure. They were both apparently about fifty years ofage; one of them perhaps one or two years less than that. I watched themnarrowly, the more so from their making themselves ostentatiouslyattentive to a young woman--girl rather she seemed--of a remarkablygraceful figure, but whose face I had not yet obtained a glimpse of.They madeboisterous way for her to the fire, and were profuse and noisyin their offers of refreshment--all of which, I observed, wereperemptorily declined. She was dressed in deep, unexpensive mourning;and from her timid gestures and averted head, whenever either of thefellows addressed her, was, it was evident, terrified as well as annoyedby thier rude and insolent notice. I quietly drew near to the side ofthe fire-place at which she stood, and with some difficulty obtained asight of her features. I was struck with extreme surprise--not so muchat her singular beauty, as from an instantaneous conviction that she wasknown to me, or at least that I had seen her frequently before, butwhere or when I could not at all call to mind. Again I looked, and myfirst impression was confirmed. At this moment the elder of the two menI have partially described placed his hand, with a rude familiarity,upon the girl's shoulder, proffering at the same time a glass of hotbrandy and water for her acceptance. She turned sharply and indignantlyaway from the fellow; and looking round as if for protection, caught myeagerly-fixed gaze.

  "Mr. Waters!" she impulsively ejaculated. "Oh, I am so glad!"

  "Yes," I answered, "that is certainly my name; but I scarcelyremember----. Stand back, fellow!" I angrily continued, as hertormentor, emboldened by the spirits he had drank, pressed with ajeering grin upon his face towards her, still tendering the brandy andwater. "Stand back!" He replied by a curse and a threat. The next momenthis flowing wig was whirling across the room, and he standing with hisbullet-head bare but for a few locks of iron-gray, in an attitude ofspeechless rage and confusion, increased by the peals of laughter whichgreeted his ludicrous, unwigged aspect. He quickly put himself in afighting attitude, and, backed by his companion, challenged me tobattle. This was quite out of the question; and I was somewhat at aloss how to proceed, when the bell announcing the instant departure ofthe train rang out, my furious antagonist gathered up and adjusted hiswig, and we all sallied forth to take our places--the young womanholding fast by my arm, and in a low, nervous voice, begging me not toleave her. I watched the two fellows take their seats, and then led herto the hindmost carriage, which we had to ourselves as far as the nextstation.

  "Are Mrs. Waters and Emily quite well?" said the young woman coloring,and lowering her eyes beneath my earnest gaze, which she seemed for amoment to misinterpret.

  "Quite, entirely so," I almost stammered. "You know us then?"

  "Surely I do," she replied, reassured by my manner. "But you, it seems,"she presently added with a winning smile, "have quite forgotten littleMary Kingsford."

  "Mary Kingsford!" I exclaimed almost with a shout. "Why, so it is! Butwhat a transformation a few years have effected!"

  "Do you think so? Not _pretty_ Mary Kingsford now then, I suppose?" sheadded with a light, pleasant laugh.

  "You know what I mean, you vain puss you!" I rejoined quite gleefully;for I was overjoyed at meeting with the gentle, well-remembered playmateof my own eldest girl. We were old familiar friends--almost father anddaughter--in an instant.

  Little Mary Kingsford, I should state, was, when I left Yorkshire, oneof the prettiest, most engaging children I had ever seen; and a pettedfavorite not only with us, but of every other family in theneighborhood. She was the only child of Philip and Mary Kingsford--ahumble, worthy, and much-respected couple. The father was gardener toSir Pyott Dalzell, and her mother eked out his wages to a respectablemaintenance by keeping a cheap children's school. The change which afew years had wrought in the beautiful child was quite sufficient toaccount for my imperfect recognition of her; but the instant her namewas mentioned, I at once recognised the rare comeliness which hadcharmed us all in her childhood. The soft brown eyes were the same,though now revealing profounder depths, and emitting a more pensiveexpression; the hair, though deepened in color, was still golden; hercomplexion, lit up as it now was by a sweet blush, was brilliant asever; whilst her child-person had become matured and developed intowomanly symmetry and grace. The brilliancy of color vanished from hercheek as I glanced meaningly at her mourning dress.

  "Yes," she murmured in a sad quivering voice--"yes, father is gone! Itwill be six months come next Thursday that he died! Mother is well," shecontinued more cheerfully after a pause, "in health, but poorly off; andI--and I," she added with a faint effort at a smile, "am going to Londonto seek my fortune!"

  "To seek your fortune!"

  "Yes: you know my cousin, Sophy Clarke? In one of her letters, she saidshe often saw you."

  I nodded without speaking. I knew little of Sophia Clarke, except thatshe was the somewhat gay, coquettish shopwoman of a highly respectableconfectioner in the Strand, whom I shall call by the name of Morris.

  "I am to be Sophy's fellow shop-assistant," continued Mary Kingsford;"not of course at first at such good wages as she gets. So lucky for me,is it not, since I must go to service? And so kind, too, of Sophy tointerest herself for me!"

  "Well, it may be so. But surely I have heard--my wife at least has--thatyou and Richard Westlake were engaged?--Excuse me, Mary, I was notaware the subject was a painful or unpleasant one."
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  "Richard's father," she replied with some spirit, "has higher views forhis son. It is all off between us now," she added; "and perhaps it isfor the best that it should be so."

  I could have rightly interpreted these words without the aid of thepartially expressed sigh which followed them. The perilous position ofso attractive, so inexperienced, so guileless a young creature, amidstthe temptations and vanities of London, so painfully impressed andpreocupied me, that I scarcely uttered another word till the rapidlydiminishing rate of the train announced that we neared a station, afterwhich it was probable we should have no farther opportunity for privateconverse.

  "Those men--those fellows at Rugby--where did you meet with them?" Iinquired.

  "About thirty or forty miles below Birmingham, where they entered thecarriage in which I was seated. At Birmingham I managed to avoid them."

  Little more passed between us till we reached London. Sophia Clarkereceived her cousin at the Euston station, and was profuse offelicitations and compliments upon her arrival and personal appearance.After receiving a promise from Mary Kingsford to call and take tea withmy wife and her old playmate on the following Sunday, I handed the twoyoung women into a cab in waiting, and they drove off. I had not movedaway from the spot when a voice a few paces behind me, which I thought Irecognised, called out: "Quick, coachee, or you'll lose sight of them!"As I turned quickly round, another cab drove smartly off, which Ifollowed at a run. I found, on reaching Lower Seymour Street, that I wasnot mistaken as to the owner of the voice, nor of his purpose. Thefellow I had unwigged at Rugby thrust his head half out of the cabwindow, and pointing to the vehicle which contained the two girls,called out to the driver "to mind and make no mistake." The man noddedintelligence, and lashed his horse into a faster pace. Nothing that Imight do could prevent the fellows from ascertaining Mary Kingsford'splace of abode; and as that was all that, for the present at least, needbe apprehended, I desisted from pursuit, and bent my steps homewards.

  Mary Kingsford kept her appointment on the Sunday, and in reply to ourquestioning, said she liked her situation very well. Mr. and Mrs. Morriswere exceedingly kind to her; so was Sophia. "Her cousin," she added inreply to a look which I could not repress, "was perhaps a little gay andfree of manner, but the best-hearted creature in the world." The twofellows who had followed them had, I found, already twice visited theshop; but their attentions appeared now to be exclusively directedtowards Sophia Clarke, whose vanity they not a little gratified. Thenames they gave were Heartly and Simpson. So entirely guileless andunsophisticated was the gentle country maiden, that I saw she scarcelycomprehended the hints and warnings which I threw out. At parting,however, she made me a serious promise that she would instantly apply tome should any difficulty or perplexity overtake her.

  I often called in at the confectioner's, and was gratified to find thatMary's modest propriety of behavior, in a somewhat difficult position,had gained her the goodwill of her employers, who invariably spoke ofher with kindness and respect. Nevertheless, the cark and care of aLondon life, with its incessant employment and late hours, soon, Iperceived, began to tell upon her health and spirits; and it wasconsequently with a strong emotion of pleasure I heard from my wifethat she had seen a passage in a letter from Mary's mother, to theeffect that the elder Westlake was betraying symptoms of yielding to theangry and passionate expostulations of his only son, relative to theenforced breaking off of his engagement with Mary Kingsford. The blushwith which she presented the letter was, I was told, very eloquent.

  One evening, on passing Morris' shop, I observed Hartley and Simpsonthere. They were swallowing custards and other confectionary with muchgusto; and, from their new and costly habiliments, seemed to be insurprisingly good case. They were smirking and smiling at the cousinswith rude confidence; and Sophia Clarke, I was grieved to see, repaidtheir insulting impertinence by her most elaborate smiles and graces. Ipassed on; and presently meeting with a brother-detective, who, itstruck me, might know something of the two gentlemen, I turned back withhim, and pointed them out. A glance sufficed him.

  "Hartley and Simpson you say?" he remarked after we had walked away tosome distance: "those are only two of their numerous _aliases_. Icannot, however, say that I am as yet on very familiar terms with them;but as I am especially directed to cultivate their acquaintance, thereis no doubt we shall be more intimate with each other before long.Gamblers, blacklegs, swindlers, I already know them to be; and I wouldtake odds they are not unfrequently something more, especially whenfortune and the bones run cross with them."

  "They appear to be in high feather just now," I remarked.

  "Yes: they are connected, I suspect, with the gang who cleaned out youngGarslade last week in Jermyn Street. I'd lay a trifle," added my friend,as I turned to leave him, "that one or both of them will wear thequeen's livery gray turned up with yellow, before many weeks are past.Good-by."

  About a fortnight after this conversation, I and my wife paid a visit toAstley's, for the gratification of our youngsters, who had long beenpromised a sight of the equestrian marvels exhibited at that celebratedamphitheatre. It was the latter end of February; and when we came out ofthe theatre, we found the weather had changed to dark and sleety, with asharp, nipping wind. I had to call at Scotland-Yard; my wife andchildren consequently proceeded home in a cab without me; and afterassisting to quell a slight disturbance originating in a gin-palaceclose by, I went on my way over Westminster Bridge. The inclementweather had cleared the streets and thoroughfares in a surprisinglyshort time; so that, excepting myself, no foot-passenger was visible onthe bridge till I had about half-crossed it, when a female figure,closely muffled up about the head, and sobbing bitterly, passed rapidlyby on the opposite side. I turned and gazed after the retreating figure:it was a youthful, symmetrical one; and after a few moments' hesitation,I determined to follow at a distance, and as unobservedly as I could. Onthe woman sped, without pause or hesitation, till she reached Astley's,where I observed her stop suddenly, and toss her arms in the air with agesture of desperation. I quickened my steps, which she observing,uttered a slight scream, and darted swiftly off again, moaning andsobbing as she ran. The slight momentary glimpse I had obtained of herfeatures beneath the gaslamp opposite Astley's, suggested a frightfulapprehension, and I followed at my utmost speed. She turned at thefirst-cross street, and I should soon have overtaken her, but that indarting round the corner where she disappeared, I ran full butt againsta stout, elderly gentleman, who was hurrying smartly along out of theweather. What with the suddenness of the shock and the slipperiness ofthe pavement, down we both reeled; and by the time we had regained ourfeet, and growled savagely at each other, the young woman, whoever shewas, had disappeared, and more than half an hour's eager search afterher proved fruitless. At last I bethought me of hiding at one corner ofWestminster Bridge. I had watched impatiently for about twenty minutes,when I observed the object of my pursuit stealing timidly and furtivelytowards the bridge on the opposite side of the way. As she came nearlyabreast of where I stood, I darted forward; she saw, without recognisingme, and uttering an exclamation of terror, flew down towards the river,where a number of pieces of balk and other timber were fastenedtogether, forming a kind of loose raft. I followed with desperate haste,for I saw that it was indeed Mary Kingsford, and loudly calling to herby name to stop. She did not appear to hear me, and in a few moments theunhappy girl had gained the end of the timber-raft. One instant shepaused with clasped hands upon the brink, and in another had thrownherself into the dark and moaning river. On reaching the spot where shehad disappeared, I could not at first see her in consequence of the darkmourning dress she had on. Presently I caught sight of her, stillupborne by her spread clothes, but already carried by the swift currentbeyond my reach. The only chance was to crawl along a piece of roundtimber which projected farther into the river, and by the end of whichshe must pass. This I effected with some difficulty; and laying myselfout at full length, vainly endeavored, with out-stretched, strainingarms, to
grasp her dress. There was nothing left for it but to plunge inafter her. I will confess that I hesitated to do so. I was encumberedwith a heavy dress, which there was no time to put off, and moreover,like most inland men, I was but an indifferent swimmer. My indecisionquickly vanished. The wretched girl, though gradually sinking, had notyet uttered a cry, or appeared to struggle; but when the chilling watersreached her lips, she seemed to suddenly revive to a consciousness ofthe horror of her fate: she fought wildly with the engulphing tide, andshrieked piteously for help. Before one could count ten, I had graspedher by the arm, and lifted her head above the surface of the river. As Idid so, I felt as if suddenly encased and weighed down by leadengarments, so quickly had my thick clothing and high boots sucked in thewater. Vainly, thus burdened and impeded, did I endeavor to regain theraft; the strong tide bore us outwards, and I glared round, ininexpressible dismay, for some means of extrication from the frightfulperil in which I found myself involved. Happily, right in the directionthe tide was drifting us, a large barge lay moored by a chain-cable.Eagerly I seized and twined one arm firmly round it, and thus partiallysecure, hallooed with renewed power for assistance. It soon came: apasser-by had witnessed the flight of the girl and my pursuit, and wasalready hastening with others to our assistance. A wherry was unmoored:guided by my voice, they soon reached us; and but a brief intervalelapsed before we were safely housed in an adjoining tavern.

  A change of dress, with which the landlord kindly supplied me, a blazingfire, and a couple of glasses of hot brandy and water, soon restoredwarmth and vigor to my chilled and partially benumbed limbs; but morethan two hours elapsed before Mary, who had swallowed a good deal ofwater, was in a condition to be removed. I had just sent for a cab, whentwo police-officers, well known to me, entered the room with officialbriskness. Mary screamed, staggered towards me, and clinging to my arm,besought me with frantic earnestness to save her.

  "What _is_ the meaning of this?" I exclaimed, addressing one of thepolice-officers.

  "Merely," said he, "the young woman that's clinging so tight to you hasbeen committing an audacious robbery"----

  "No--no--no!" broke in the terrified girl.

  "Oh! of course you'll say so," continued the officer. "All I know is,that the diamond brooch was found snugly hid away in her own box. Butcome, we have been after you for the last three hours; so you had bettercome along at once."

  "Save me!--save me!" sobbed poor Mary, as she tightened her grasp uponmy arm and looked with beseeching agony in my face.

  "Be comforted," I whispered; "you shall go home with me. Calm yourself,Miss Kingsford," I added in a louder tone: "I no more believe you havestolen a diamond brooch than that I have."

  "Bless you!--bless you!" she gasped in the intervals of her convulsivesobs.

  "There is some wretched misapprehension in this business, I am quitesure." I continued; "but at all events I shall bail her--for this nightat least."

  "Bail her! That is hardly regular."

  "No; but you will tell the superintendent that Mary Kingsford is in mycustody, and that I answer for her appearance to-morrow."

  The men hesitated, but I stood too well at head-quarters for them to domore than hesitate; and the cab I had ordered being just then announced,I passed with Mary out of the room as quickly as I could, for I fearedher senses were again leaving her. The air revived her somewhat, and Ilifted her into the cab, placing myself beside her. She appeared tolisten in fearful doubt whether I should be allowed to take her with me;and it was not till the wheels had made a score of revolutions that herfears vanished; then throwing herself upon my neck in an ecstacy ofgratitude, she burst into a flood of tears, and continued till wereached home sobbing on my bosom like a broken-hearted child. She had, Ifound, been there about ten o'clock to seek me, and being told that Iwas gone to Astley's, had started off to find me there.

  Mary still slept, or at least she had not risen, when I left home thefollowing morning to endeavor to get at the bottom of the strangeaccusation preferred against her. I first saw the superintendent, who,after hearing what I had to say, quite approved of all that I had done,and intrusted the case entirely to my care. I next saw Mr. and Mrs.Morris and Sophia Clarke, and then waited upon the prosecutor, ayoungish gentleman of the name of Saville, lodging in Essex Street,Strand. One or two things I heard, necessitated a visit to otherofficers of police, incidentally, as I found, mixed up with the affair.By the time all this was done, and an effectual watch had been placedupon Mr. Augustus Saville's movements, evening had fallen, and I wendedmy way homewards, both to obtain a little rest, and hear MaryKingsford's version of the strange story.

  The result of my inquiries may be thus briefly summed up. Ten daysbefore, Sophia Clarke told her cousin that she had orders forCovent-Garden Theatre; and as it was not one of their busy nights, shethought they might obtain leave to go. Mary expressed her doubt of this,as both Mr. and Mrs. Morris, who were strict, and somewhat fanaticalDissenters, disapproved of play-going, especially for young women.Nevertheless Sophia asked, informed Mary that the required permissionhad been readily accorded, and off they went in high spirits; Maryespecially, who had never been to a theatre in her life before. Whenthere, they were joined by Hartley and Simpson, much to Mary's annoyanceand vexation, especially as she saw that her cousin expected them. Shehad, in fact, accepted the orders from them. At the conclusion of theentertainments, they all four came out together, when suddenly therearose a hustling and confusion, accompanied with loud outcries, and aviolent swaying to and fro of the crowd. The disturbance was, however,soon quelled; and Mary and her cousin had reached the outer door, whentwo police-officers seized Hartley and his friend, and insisted upontheir going with them. A scuffle ensued; but other officers being athand, the two men were secured and carried off. The cousins, terriblyfrightened, called a coach, and were very glad to find themselves safeat home again. And now it came out that Mr. and Mrs. Morris had beentold that they were going to spend the evening at _my_ house, and had noidea they were going to the play! Vexed as Mary was at the deception,she was too kindly-tempered to refuse to keep her cousin's secret;especially knowing as she did that the discovery of the deceit Sophiahad practised would in all probability be followed by her immediatedischarge. Hartley and his friend swaggered on the following afternooninto the shop, and whispered Sophia that their arrest by the police hadarisen from a strange mistake, for which the most ample apologies hadbeen offered and accepted. After this, matters went on as usual, exceptthat Mary perceived a growing insolence and familiarity in Hartley'smanner towards her. His language was frequently quite unintelligible,and once he asked her plainly "if she did not mean that he should go_shares_ in the prize she had lately found?" Upon Mary replying thatshe did not comprehend him, his look became absolutely ferocious, and heexclaimed: "Oh, that's your game, is it? But don't try it on with me, mygood girl, I advise you." So violent did he become, that Mr. Morris wasattracted by the noise, and ultimately bundled him, neck and heels, outof the shop. She had not seen either him or his companion since.

  On the evening of the previous day, a gentleman whom she neverremembered to have seen before, entered the shop, took a seat, andhelped himself to a tart. She observed that after a while he looked ather very earnestly, and at length approaching quite close, said, "Youwere at Covent Garden Theatre last Tuesday evening week?" Mary wasstruck, as she said, all of a heap, for both Mr. and Mrs. Morris were inthe shop, and heard the question.

  "Oh, no, no! you mistake," she said hurriedly, and feeling at the sametime her cheeks kindle into flame.

  "Nay, but you were though," rejoined the gentleman. And then loweringhis voice to a whisper, he said, "And let me advise you, if you wouldavoid exposure and condign punishment, to restore me the diamond broochyou robbed me of on that evening."

  Mary screamed with terror, and a regular scene ensued. She was obligedto confess she had told a falsehood in denying she was at the theatre onthe night in question, and Mr. Morris after that seemed inclined tobelieve any thing of
her. The gentleman persisted in his charge; but atthe same time vehemently iterating his assurance that all he wanted washis property; and it was ultimately decided that Mary's boxes, as wellas her person, should be searched. This was done; and to her utterconsternation the brooch was found concealed, they said, in a blacksilk reticule. Denials, asservations, were vain. Mr. Saville identifiedthe brooch, but once more offered to be content with its restoration.This Mr. Morris, a just, stern man, would not consent to, and he wentout to summon a police-officer. Before he returned, Mary, by the adviceof both her cousin and Mrs. Morris, had fled the house, and hurried in astate of distraction to find me, with what result the reader alreadyknows.

  "It is a wretched business," I observed to my wife, as soon as MaryKingsford had retired to rest, at about nine o'clock in the evening."Like you, I have no doubt of the poor girl's perfect innocence; but howto establish it by satisfactory evidence is another matter. I must takeher to Bow Street the day after to-morrow."

  "Good God, how dreadful! Can nothing be done? What does the prosecutorsay the brooch is worth?"

  "His uncle," he says, "gave a hundred and twenty guineas for it. Butthat signifies little; for were its worth only a hundred and twentyfarthings, compromise is, you know, out of the question."

  "I did not mean that. Can you show it me? I am a pretty good judge ofthe value of jewels."

  "Yes, you can see it." I took it out of the desk in which I had lockedit up, and placed it before her. It was a splendid emerald, encircled bylarge brilliants.

  My wife twisted and turned it about, holding it in all sorts of lights,and at last said--"I do not believe that either the emerald or thebrilliants are real--that the brooch is, in fact, worth twenty shillingsintrinsically."

  "Do you say so?" I exclaimed as I jumped up from my chair, for my wife'swords gave color and consistence to a dim and faint suspicion which hadcrossed my mind. "Then, this Saville is a manifest liar; and perhapsconfederate with----. But give me my hat; I will ascertain this point atonce."

  I hurried to a jeweller's shop, and found that my wife's opinion wascorrect: apart from the workmanship, which was very fine, the brooch wasvalueless. Conjectures, suspicions, hopes, fears, chased each other withbewildering rapidity through my brain; and in order to collect andarrange my thoughts, I stepped out of the whirl of the streets intoDolly's Chop-house, and decided, over a quiet glass of negus, upon myplan of operations.

  The next morning there appeared at the top of the second column of the"Times" an earnest appeal, worded with careful obscurity, so that onlythe person to whom it was addressed should easily understand it, to theindividual who had lost or been robbed of a false stone and brilliantsat the theatre, to communicate with a certain person--whose address Igave--without delay, in order to save the reputation, perhaps the life,of an innocent person.

  I was at the address I had given by nine o'clock. Several hours passedwithout bringing any one, and I was beginning to despair, when agentleman of the name of Bagshawe was announced: I fairly leaped forjoy, for this was beyond my hopes.

  A gentleman presently entered, of about thirty years of age, of adistinguished, though somewhat dissipated aspect.

  "This brooch is yours?" said I, exhibiting it without delay or preface.

  "It is; and I am here to know what your singular advertisement means?"

  I briefly explained the situation of affairs.

  "The rascals!" he broke in almost before I had finished; "I will brieflyexplain it all. A fellow of the name of Hartley, at least that was thename he gave, robbed me, I was pretty sure, of this brooch. I pointedhim out to the police, and he was taken into custody; but nothing beingfound upon him, he was discharged."

  "Not entirely, Mr. Bagshawe, on that account. You refused, when arrivedat the station-house, to state what you had been robbed of; and you,moreover, said, in presence of the culprit, that you were to embark withyour regiment for India the next day. That regiment, I have ascertained,did embark, as you said it would."

  "True; but I had leave of absence, and shall take the Overland route.The truth is, that during the walk to the station-house, I had leisureto reflect that if I made a formal charge, it would lead to awkwarddisclosures. This brooch is an imitation of one presented me by a valuedrelative. Losses at play--since, for this unfortunate young woman'ssake, I _must_ out with it--obliged me to part with the original; and Iwore this, in order to conceal the fact from my relative's knowledge."

  "This will, sir," I replied, "prove, with a little management, quitesufficient for all purposes. You have no objection to accompany me tothe superintendent?"

  "Not in the least: only I wish the devil had the brooch as well as thefellow that stole it."

  About half-past five o'clock on the same evening, the street door wasquietly opened by the landlord of the house in which Mr. Saville lodged,and I walked into the front room on the first floor, where I found thegentleman I sought languidly reclining on a sofa. He gathered himselfsmartly up at my appearance, and looked keenly in my face. He did notappear to like what he read there.

  "I did not expect to see you to-day," he said at last.

  "No, perhaps not: but I have news for you. Mr. Bagshawe, the owner ofthe hundred and twenty guinea brooch your deceased uncle gave you, did_not_ sail for India, and"----

  The wretched cur, before I could conclude, was on his knees begging formercy with disgusting abjectness. I could have spurned the scoundrelwhere he crawled.

  "Come, sir!" I cried, "let us have no snivelling or humbug: mercy is notin my power, as you ought to know. Strive to deserve it. We want Hartleyand Simpson, and cannot find them: you must aid us."

  "Oh yes; to be sure I will!" eagerly rejoined the rascal "I will go forthem at once," he added with a kind of hesitating assurance.

  "Nonsense! _Send_ for them, you mean. Do so, and I will wait theirarrival."

  His note was despatched by a sure hand; and meanwhile I arranged thedetails of the expected meeting. I, and a friend, whom I momentlyexpected, would ensconce ourselves behind a large screen in the room,whilst Mr. Augustus Saville would run playfully over the charming plotwith his two friends, so that we might be able to fully appreciate itsmerits. Mr. Saville agreed. I rang the bell, an officer appeared, and wetook our posts in readiness. We had scarcely done so, when thestreet-bell rang, and Saville announced the arrival of his confederates.There was a twinkle in the fellow's green eyes which I thought Iunderstood. "Do not try that on, Mr. Augustus Saville," I quietlyremarked: "we are but two here certainly, but there are half a dozen inwaiting below."

  No more was said, and in another minute the friends met. It was aboisterously jolly meeting, as far as shaking hands and mutualfelicitations on each other's good looks and health went. Saville was, Ithought, the most obstreperously gay of all three.

  "And yet now I look at you, Saville, closely," said Hartley, "you don'tlook quite the thing. Have you seen a ghost?"

  "No; but this cursed brooch affair worries me."

  "Nonsense!--humbug!--it's all right: we are all embarked in the sameboat. It's a regular three-handed game. I prigged it; Simmy here whippedit into pretty Mary's reticule, which she, I suppose, never looked intotill the row came; and _you_ claimed it--a regular merry-go-round, aintit, eh? Ha! ha! ha!---- Ha!"

  "Quite so, Mr. Hartley," said I, suddenly facing him, and at the sametime stamping on the floor; "as you say, a delightful merry-go-round;and here, you perceive," I added, as the officers crowded into the room,"are more gentlemen to join in it."

  I must not stain the paper with the curses, imprecations, blasphemies,which for a brief space resounded through the apartment. The rascalswere safely and separately locked up a quarter of an hour afterwards;and before a month had passed away, all three were transported. It isscarcely necessary to remark, that they believed the brooch to begenuine, and of great value.

  Mary Kingsford did not need to return to her employ. Westlake the elderwithdrew his veto upon his son's choice, and the wedding was celebratedin the follow
ing May with great rejoicing; Mary's old playmateofficiating as bride-maid, and I as bride's-father. The still youngcouple have now a rather numerous family, and a home blessed withaffection, peace, and competence. It was some time, however, before Maryrecovered from the shock of her London adventure; and I am pretty surethat the disagreeable reminiscences inseparably connected in her mindwith the metropolis, will prevent at least _one_ person from beingpresent at the World's Great Fair.