The Mystery of M. Felix

"The answer she received was a tap at the door. Timidly she approached and opened it, but flew back into the room at the appearance of a stranger.

"'Do not be alarmed,' said our reporter, standing on the threshold; 'I come as a messenger from your mother.'

"'As a messenger from my mother!' she stammered, gazing at him from a safe distance in evident distress, 'I do not understand you, sir. Do not come nearer to me, or I shall call for assistance.'

"'I assure you there is no occasion,' said our reporter. 'I will not move a step into the room without your permission. Let me assure you that I feel my presence here as awkward as you must yourself; but I come, as I have said, from your mother, who has given me a letter for you. I am her friend, and she would be annoyed if you called unnecessarily for assistance. I sincerely apologize for my intrusion, but there was no help for it. Strange as is my appearance here, I come only in your mother's interests and yours.'

"'Indeed it is strange,' said the young girl, 'and I cannot help feeling alarmed and distressed.'

"'It is natural you should,' said our reporter, speaking, as he had spoken all through in his most respectful tone, as a gentleman would speak to a lady; 'but read your mother's letter. See-I throw it as close to you as I can, and if you wish me to enter after you have read it, I will do so; not otherwise, upon my honor as a gentleman.'

"He threw the letter into the room, but it did not quite reach her. With timid steps, keeping her eyes fixed upon our reporter, the young girl reached the letter, and quickly retreated to the position she deemed safe, from which she read what her mother had written.

"'You may enter, sir,' she said, 'but do not close the door.'

"'I will leave it open,' said our reporter, and entered the room, but kept a little apart from the young girl, whom we will now call by her proper name, Constance.

"'I have been waiting up for my mother's return, sir,' she said, 'and I cannot even now understand her absence. Where did you leave her?'

"I may not answer your questions,' replied our reporter. 'It is at her own request I do not do so. She desired me to say that she wishes to communicate the good news to you herself when she returns to-morrow. You see my lips are sealed, and I cannot, as a gentleman, violate the confidence your mother reposed in me.'

"'You have nothing more to say, sir, and will leave me now, I hope.' Then she murmured softly, 'Good news? Oh, if I dared to hope it!'

"'I will leave you this instant,' said our reporter, and was about to do so when Constance's eyes fell upon the purse, and the key, and the handkerchief which he had deposited on the table.

"'A moment, sir, I beg,' she said. 'How came these here? They are my mother's.'

"'Yes, she gave them to me,' said our reporter, with pardonable duplicity, 'to hand them to you, in order that you might be satisfied I came from her, and that I am here only as a messenger.'

"'Yes, I understand that, sir, but how came they here?'

"'I must speak frankly,' said our reporter, smiling. 'After admitting myself into the house by means of the latchkey, I came upstairs and knocked at your door, but could not make myself heard. As I did not wish to arouse other people in the house I took the liberty of trying whether the door was locked. It was not, and I entered. Seeing you asleep I endeavored by some slight sounds to awake you, but did not succeed. Then I placed the articles on the table, and overturning this chair, retreated from the room, to lessen any alarm you might feel at my appearance. It is the truth, believe me.'

"'I do believe you, sir, and I thank you for your consideration, but it's all very strange and distressing to me.'

"'It would be stranger were it not. And now, having fulfilled my mission, I will take my leave.'

"'Only one more question, sir,' said Constance, imploringly. 'My mother is in no danger?'

"'She is not. You will see her to-morrow, and I hope myself to see you again, so that I may be justified in your eyes.'

"'You are justified already, sir, and I beg you to pardon me for my doubts. I must wait till the morning. My mother will come, will she not, in the morning?'

"'Does she not say in her letter that it will not be till the afternoon?'

"'Oh, yes, I forgot, but I am confused and troubled. Will you see her before then?'

"'Yes, I have an appointment with her.'

"'Where, sir?'

"'I must not tell you. Remember the injunction your mother laid upon me. I have no alternative but to respect it.'

"'You are right, sir. Pardon me.' She held out her hand, and our reporter advanced to take it; but she withdrew it before he touched it. Even now her doubts and fears were not dispelled. 'Good-night, sir.'

"'Good-night,' said our reporter, and turned to go.

"But now it was his turn to linger. Something, in the room which he had not before observed attracted him. It was a simple article enough, a red silk handkerchief which might be worn around the neck.

"'Good-night, sir,' repeated Constance.

"'Good-night,' he said. 'Excuse me.'

"Then he left the room. As he descended the stairs he heard the key turned in the door of Constance's room.

"He did not call a cab when he reached the street; he had subject for thought, and like most men he could reflect with greater freedom and ease when his limbs were in motion.

"A red silk handkerchief-merely that. Why should it have made so strong an impression upon him? The explanation might be far-fetched, but since he had pledged himself to the elucidation of the mystery of M. Felix, he had become microscopical in his observation of trifles which might by some remote possibility have a bearing upon it. On the night of the death of M. Felix a man was seen escaping from the house in Gerard Street in which M. Felix lived; and this man wore round his neck a red scarf. It was this coincidence which now occupied his thoughts. The possession of a red silk scarf was common enough; thousands of persons in London could produce such an article, and shop windows abounded with them; but this particular scarf, in connection with the exciting incidents of the night, and in its indirect relation to the advertisement from the Evening Moon, which Constance's mother had preserved with such care, suddenly assumed immense importance in the eyes of our reporter. His thoughts wandered to the scene on the Thames Embankment, and he felt himself becoming morbidly anxious to know what it was that Constance's mother had thrown into the river. That it had some connection with the mystery upon which he was engaged he had not the least doubt. Would its discovery, by throwing direct suspicion upon Constance's mother, assist or retard the progress of his mission? To-morrow would show, and he must await the event with patience. One reflection afforded him infinite satisfaction; his hand, and his alone, of all the millions of persons who had no absolute direct interest in it, was on the pulse of the mystery, and every step he took strengthened him in his resolution to run it to earth without the aid of the officials of Scotland Yard."

CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW THE CHARGE WAS DISPOSED OF

"On the following morning, at half-past ten, our reporter presented himself at the Bow Street Police Court, and was allowed a private interview with Constance's mother, whom we must for the present designate by the name she had assumed, Mrs. Weston. She looked worn and pale, but beneath these traces of physical fatigue our reporter observed in her an undefinable expression of moral strength which surprised him. He had yet to learn, as our readers have, that this woman's delicate frame was ennobled by those lofty attributes of endurance and fortitude and moral power which in human history have helped to make both heroes and martyrs.

"'You have passed a bad night,' said our reporter, commiseratingly.

"'In one sense I have,' said Mrs. Weston, 'but hope and prayer have sustained me, and the Inspector has been very kind to me. Tell me of my daughter.'

"He briefly related the particulars of his interview with Constance, but made no mention of the red silk scarf. She thanked him with great sweetness for the trouble he had taken, and said that she had been wonderfully comforted by the belief that she had providentially met with so true a friend.

"'Time will prove,' said our reporter, 'that you are not deceived in your belief, but the manifestation of this proof will depend greatly upon yourself. To speak more precisely, in your hands appears to me to rest the power of accelerating events and of setting wrong things right. I am speaking partly in the dark, from a kind of spiritual intuition as it were, but when I strike a trail I have something of the bloodhound in me; innocence will find in me a firm champion, guilt I will pursue till I track it to its threshold.'

"The words were grandiloquent, it is true, but it was scarcely possible to doubt their sincerity.

"'In resolving to confide thoroughly in you,' said Mrs. Weston, gazing earnestly at him, 'I am risking more than you can possibly imagine. I am like a shipwrecked woman to whom a prospect of deliverance has suddenly appeared. I ask for no professions; I will trust you.'

"'You will live to thank the chance which has thrown us together,' said our reporter. 'I do not hesitate to say that you have aroused in me a strange interest; I devote myself to your cause heartily, in the conviction that I am championing the cause of right and innocence.'

"Tears sprang in her eyes. 'Shall I be released today?'

"'I am confident of it. I want to say a word to the Inspector.'

"To Inspector Jealous, who was standing near, he expressed his thanks for the kindness he had shown Mrs. Weston.

"'Well, you see,' said the inspector, in the first place it was enough that she is a friend of yours; in the second place, it was enough that she is a lady. I can read signs; she does not belong to the classes we are in the habit of dealing with.'

"'She does not,' said our reporter. 'The whole affair is a mistake, excusable enough on the part of the policeman, but regrettable because of the distress it has caused an innocent lady. I shall make no complaint against the policeman, on the score of over-officiousness; he was within his rights, and on abstract grounds is perhaps to be commended for his mistaken zeal.'

"It was a wise and prudent speech, and the Inspector, already kindly disposed, conveyed it, before the case was called on, to the ears of the policeman who had made the charge. Assured that no attempt would be made by our reporter to bring him into disrepute, he toned down his evidence considerably, and himself assisted in the dismissal of the case, the brief particulars of which we extract from our police columns:

"Groundless Charge. – Mary Weston, a woman of respectable appearance, was charged with attempting to commit suicide. Constable 382 C said that he was on duty on the Thames Embankment last night, about twelve o'clock, when he saw the woman standing on the stone parapet close to Cleopatra's Needle. Drawing near to her he heard a splash in the water, and the woman was falling forward when he seized her and pulled her away. A gentleman in court laid hold of the woman at the same time, and assisted him in preventing her from carrying out her purpose. The gentleman referred to, Mr. Robert Agnold, one of the reporters upon the Evening Moon, and also a properly qualified solicitor, said he appeared for the accused, who distinctly denied that she had any intention of committing suicide. He was himself a witness of the occurrence, and was convinced that the constable, who had behaved very well throughout the affair, had acted under a mistaken impression. The magistrate asked the constable what caused the splash? The constable replied something the accused threw into the river. The magistrate: 'Did you see what it was?' The constable: 'No.' Mr. Agnold: 'I should state that the accused admits throwing something into the river, and that in the act of doing so she overbalanced herself and so aroused the constable's suspicions. Whatever it was that she threw away, it was her own property and presumably valueless, and, although her action was open to an eccentric construction, it could go no farther than that. She had a perfect right to do what she pleased with what belonged to her.' The constable said that search had been made for it, but it had not been found. The woman went quietly to the station, but refused to give her address. She was not known to the police, and there was no evidence of her having been charged before. The magistrate, to the accused: 'Have you any trouble that urged you to put an end to your life?' The accused, whose speech was distinguished by great modesty and refinement: 'I have troubles, as other people have, but none that could impel me to an act so sinful. Nothing was farther from my thoughts than the attempt with which I am charged. I have done no wrong.' Mr. Agnold: 'Apart from my position as her professional adviser, I will answer for her in every way.' The magistrate: 'She is discharged.'

"It was half-past twelve when Mrs. Weston and our reporter issued from the police court. They walked in silence toward Leicester Square, which, in contrast to the thronged thoroughfares immediately adjoining it, is at this time of the day comparatively quiet. Mrs. Weston looked around inquiringly.

"'Do you know where we are?' asked our reporter.

"'No,' she replied.

"'Then you are not well acquainted with London?'

"'Not very well.'

"'This is Leicester Square. We are not far from Gerard street, Soho, where M. Felix was found dead.' A tremor passed through her, and the hand which rested upon our reporter's arm pressed it convulsively. He did not pursue the subject, but said, 'All's well that ends well. Your daughter will see you earlier than she expects. You will go straight home, I suppose?'

"'Not straight. I am fearful of being followed. Heaven knows whether I shall be able to accomplish the task that lies before me, but whatever I do must be done without drawing notice upon myself. I will not disguise from you that I have innocently placed myself in a false position, and that I am in danger. I cannot explain my words at this moment; I am anxious to see my beloved child; but I must repeat what I have said to you before, that no sin or guilt lies at my door.'

"'I understand that, and I will bide your time. You are afraid that we are being watched. I see no one in sight that can be dogging us, but I can provide against the remotest possibility if you will allow me to accompany you part of the way.'

"She accepted his services gratefully, and he hailed a cab, the driver of which he directed to proceed in an opposite direction to Forston Street, Camden Town. When the cab had gone a couple of miles they alighted and walked the length of two or three streets, our reporter keeping a sharp lookout; then another cab was hailed, which drove them to Camden Town, about a quarter of a mile from Forston Street. They walked together to within fifty yards of No. 21, and then Mrs. Weston paused.

"'You wish me to leave you here,' said our reporter. 'Shall I see you again soon?'

"'This evening, at eight o'clock,' she replied, 'if you will call upon me.'

"'I will be punctual.'

"'I ought to tell you before you go,' she said, in a low tone, 'that the name I gave at the police station is not my own. I was justified in giving a false name; otherwise the knowledge of my-my disgrace might have reached my daughter.'

"'You use a wrong term,' said our reporter, 'no disgrace whatever attaches to you. Good-by till this evening.'

"He shook hands with her and walked briskly away. He had nothing of importance to attend to in the office of the Evening Moon, but he was expected to present himself there, and it was necessary that he should arrange to have the afternoon and evening free. This being settled, he turned toward Gerard Street, with the intention of calling upon Mrs. Middlemore, to ascertain whether anything fresh had transpired. He knocked vainly at the door, however, Mrs. Middlemore was not in the house. At the bottom of Gerard Street he encountered Sophy.

"'Ah, Sophy,' he said, 'I have just been to your house.'

"''Ave yer?' said Sophy, sidling up to him. 'Aunty ain't at 'ome.'

"'So I discovered. Where is she?'

"'At the perlice station,' answered the girl.

"'Anything wrong?'

"'I don't know.'

"'But what has she gone for?'

"'It's about Mr. Felix.'

"'About Mr. Felix!' he exclaimed.

"'So she ses.'

"'But what is the meaning of it, Sophy?'

"'I can't tell yer. All I know is I meets aunty with a face like pickled cabbage, running and blowing and 'olding 'er sides, and I arks 'er what she's in sech a 'urry about. 'It's about poor Mr. Felix,' she ses, as well as she could speak; she was that out of breath she could 'ardly git 'er words out. 'They've found out somethink, and they've sent for me to the perlice station. You go 'ome at once and wait till I come back.' 'Ow shall I get in?' I arks; aunty never gives me the door-key; ketch 'er doing that! 'Ow shall I get in?' 'There's a gent there,' ses aunty, as 'ill open the door for yer.' 'I goes and knocks, and as no gent comes and opens the door for me, I takes a walk.'

"'Is that all you know, Sophy?'

"'That's all. I don't keep nothink from you-not likely.'

"'Can you tell me the name of the police station?'

"'Oh, yes, I can tell yer that. Bow Street.'

"Our reporter did not wait to exchange any further words, but hastened as fast as he could to the Bow Street Police Court. He was close to it when a constable accosted him.

"'I was coming for you at the Evening Moon office, sir,' said the constable. 'The Inspector sent me.'

"'What does he want?' asked our reporter.

"'They've fished up something from the river. He thought you would like to see it.'

"'I should.'

"As he entered the doors his coat was plucked by Mrs. Middlemore.

"'Ah, Mrs. Middlemore,' he said, hastily, 'I will speak to you presently. Don't go away; I will be out in a minute or two.'"

CHAPTER XIX.
WHAT WAS FOUND IN THE RIVER

"The Inspector conducted our reporter to a small room adjoining the court, in which the previous day's charges were still being tried, and pointing to a bundle on the table, said:

"'This was found in the river, near Cleopatra's Needle. It has been opened and tied up again, in order that you might see it in its original form.'

"'In what way do you suppose it concerns me?' asked our reporter, with an assumption of indifference, but moving nevertheless to the table and proceeding to undo the knots in the bundle.

"'The presumption is,' replied the Inspector, 'that it was the bundle which Mrs. Weston, your client, threw into the river last night.'

"'Being found,' contested our reporter, 'close to the place of the adventure, the more probable conclusion is that it was deposited in the river some distance off, the direction of which might be calculated from the flow of the tide.'

"'Ordinarily, yes,' said the Inspector, 'but there are surroundings not favorable to such a conclusion. In the centre of the bundle you will find a large stone, which would prevent it from dragging far. Then again, it was discovered caught in a snag, and our men say it must have fallen plumb into its position.'

"Our reporter shrugged his shoulders, and remarked, 'Evidence of that kind is in my opinion absolutely valueless in getting at the truth of a criminal charge.'

"By this time he had untied the knots and the contents of the bundle lay exposed. They consisted of a large stone and a suit of man's clothes-trousers, coat, and waistcoat.

"'Well?' he said to the Inspector.

"'Well?' said the Inspector, in return.

"'Do you seriously ask me to believe that a lady would deliberately go to a lonely part of the Thames Embankment at a late hour of the night, for the purpose of throwing trumpery articles like these into the river?'

"'What else can you believe?'

"'Anything but that,' said our reporter. 'In the first place it has to be proved that the clothes are hers-an absurd idea, to say the least of it. In the second place, what motive could she have had in disposing of them in such a manner?'

"'You have hit a nail on the head,' said the Inspector. 'A motive she must have had, and a strong one, too. It is a singular affair, and I confess that I don't see my way through it. You see, the suit is new; being but a short time in the water, that is not hard to prove. It is of a rather good description of tweed, and must have cost thirty or thirty-five shillings. To my eyes it has been worn very little, not more than half a dozen times, perhaps not more than three or four, perhaps not more than once. Supposing it to have been worn once only, it must have been worn for a certain purpose, which being carried out rendered its possession dangerous. Therefore it must be got rid of. Now, why throw it into the river? Fifty shopkeepers in fifty neighborhoods would be ready to purchase it for six or seven shillings. Why not sell it, then? I answer, because it would not do for the suit to be still in existence; because the person who disposed of it might be traced. Then would come the question-"Why did you purchase a new suit of clothes for thirty shillings, and sell it immediately afterward for five?" But the clothes may still be traced to the original purchaser. It happens that the name of the firm of which it was purchased is stamped on the lining of each garment; we go to that firm and make inquiries. Unfortunately the firm does a very large business, and this will increase the difficulty of discovering the purchaser.'

"'Your theories are very interesting,' said our reporter, 'but I do not see what they will lead to. Is there anything in the pockets?'

"'Nothing; not so much as a scrap of paper, or a shred of tobacco, or a morsel of biscuit. I mention tobacco because whoever wore the clothes was not a smoker.'

"'Is it possible to fix that?'

"'Quite. Do you observe that the clothes are of a small size? They must have been worn, therefore, by a person of proportionate build. In these facts we have a starting-point.'

"'A starting-point, I presume, in some important investigation.'

"'There you have me,' said the Inspector, with a smile. 'I have been merely airing my views. I know of no case which can possibly be connected in any way with this suit of clothes, and we have too much to look after already without making much ado about nothing. If there were any grounds for supposing that it bore some relation to, say such a mystery as that of M. Felix, we should set to work at once, of course. No such luck, however. I sent for you really in the hope that you could throw a light upon the bundle of rubbish.'

"'And you see that I cannot. I refuse to believe for one moment that it was thrown into the river by the lady I appeared for this morning.'

"'Well,' said the inspector, 'there is no harm done.'

"'Not the least. By the way, you made mention of the case of M. Felix. Has any progress been made in it?'

"'We're not a step more forward than we were. Rather the other way, I should say, for in such cases every day in which an advance is not made marks a point backward. The strangest feature in M. Felix's case is what has become of the body. We have made every inquiry, and are still making them, all over the country, and can't find the slightest trace of it. Taking it altogether, it is about the strangest case in my experience.'

"'And in mine,' said our reporter.

"'Oh, yes,' said the inspector, with a keen look at our reporter, 'we know you have taken great interest in it, and I suppose have been about as successful as ourselves.'

"'Just about as successful.'

"'Your amateur detective,' observed the Inspector, with a certain scorn, 'considers himself a mighty clever gentleman, but he finds himself compelled in the end to take a back seat.'

"'As I shall have to do,' said our reporter, good humoredly, 'but, as you say, there is no harm done; and you must remember that I am working in the interests of a great newspaper. I had an object in asking you whether you had made any progress in the case of M. Felix. A person of my acquaintance informed me that there was something being done in it to-day.'

"'Whoever it was,' said the Inspector, 'must be dreaming.'

"'Nothing has been found out?'

"'Nothing.'

"'And there is no inquiry in the police court relating to it?'

"'None.'

"'Thanks. Good-morning.'"