We were on the chain-pier at Brighton, Tod and I. It was about eight or nine months after. I had put my arms on the rails at the end, looking at a pleasure-party sailing by. Tod, next to me, was bewailing his ill-fortune in not possessing a yacht and opportunities of cruising in it.
"I tell you No. I don"t want to be made sea-sick."
The words came from some one behind us. It seemed almost as though they were spoken in reference to Tod"s wish for a yacht. But it was not _that_ that made me turn round sharply; it was the sound of the voice, for I thought I recognized it.
Yes: there she was. The lady who had been with us in the carriage that day. The dog was not with her now, but her hair was more amazing than ever. She did not see me. As I turned, she turned, and began to walk slowly back, arm-in-arm with a gentleman. And to see him--that is, to see them together--made me open my eyes. For it was the lord who had travelled with us.
"Look, Tod!" I said, and told him in a word who they were.
"What the deuce do they know of each other?" cried Tod with a frown, for he felt angry every time the thing was referred to. Not for the loss of the money, but for what he called the stupidity of us all; saying always had _he_ been there, he should have detected the thief at once.
I sauntered after them: why I wanted to learn which of the lords he was, I can"t tell, for lords are numerous enough, but I had had a curiosity upon the point ever since. They encountered some people and were standing to speak to them; three ladies, and a fellow in a black glazed hat with a piece of green ribbon round it.
"I was trying to induce my wife to take a sail," the lord was saying, "but she won"t. She is not a very good sailor, unless the sea has its best behaviour on."
"Will you go to-morrow, Mrs. Mowbray?" asked the man in the glazed hat, who spoke and looked like a gentleman. "I will promise you perfect calmness. I am weather-wise, and can a.s.sure you this little wind will have gone down before night, leaving us without a breath of air."
"I will go: on condition that your a.s.surance proves correct."
"All right. You of course will come, Mowbray?"
The lord nodded. "Very happy."
"When do you leave Brighton, Mr. Mowbray?" asked one of the ladies.
"I don"t know exactly. Not for some days."
"A m.u.f.f as usual, Johnny," whispered Tod. "That man is no lord: he is a Mr. Mowbray."
"But, Tod, he _is_ the lord. It is the one who travelled with us; there"s no mistake about that. Lords can"t put off their t.i.tles as parsons can: do you suppose his servant would have called him "my lord,"
if he had not been one?"
"At least there is no mistake that these people are calling him Mr.
Mowbray now."
That was true. It was equally true that they were calling her Mrs.
Mowbray. My ears had been as quick as Tod"s, and I don"t deny I was puzzled. They turned to come up the pier again with the people, and the lady saw me standing there with Tod. Saw me looking at her, too, and I think she did not relish it, for she took a step backward as one startled, and then stared me full in the face, as if asking who I might be. I lifted my hat.
There was no response. In another moment she and her husband were walking quickly down the pier together, and the other party went on to the end quietly. A man in a tweed suit and brown hat drawn low over his eyes, was standing with his arms folded, looking after the two with a queer smile upon his face. Tod marked it and spoke.
"Do you happen to know that gentleman?"
"Yes, I do," was the answer.
"Is he a peer?"
"On occasion."
"On occasion!" repeated Tod. "I have a reason for asking," he added; "do not think me impertinent."
"Been swindled out of anything?" asked the man, coolly.
"My father was, some months ago. He lost a pocket-book with fifty pounds in it in a railway carriage. Those people were both in it, but not then acquainted with each other."
"Oh, weren"t they!" said the man.
"No, they were not," I put in, "for I was there. He was a lord then."
"Ah," said the man, "and had a servant in livery no doubt, who came up my-lording him unnecessarily every other minute. He is a member of the swell-mob; one of the cleverest of the _gentleman_ fraternity, and the one who acts as servant is another of them."
"And the lady?" I asked.
"She is a third. They have been working in concert for two or three years now; and will give us trouble yet before their career is stopped.
But for being singularly clever, we should have had them long ago. And so they did not know each other in the train! I dare say not!"
The man spoke with quiet authority. He was a detective come down from London to Brighton that morning; whether for a private trip, or on business, he did not say. I related to him what had pa.s.sed in the train.
"Ay," said he, after listening. "They contrived to put the lamp out before starting. The lady took the pocket-book during the commotion she caused the dog to make, and the lord received it from her hand when he gave her back the dog. Cleverly done! He had it about him, young sir, when he got out at the next station. _She_ waited to be searched, and to throw the scent off. Very ingenious, but they"ll be a little too much so some fine day."
"Can"t you take them up?" demanded Tod.
"No."
"I will accuse them of it," he haughtily said. "If I meet them again on this pier----"
"Which you won"t do to-day," interrupted the man.
"I heard them say they were not going for some days."
"Ah, but they have seen you now. And I think--I"m not quite sure--that he saw me. They"ll be off by the next train."
"Who are _they_?" asked Tod, pointing to the end of the pier.
"Unsuspecting people whose acquaintance they have casually made here.
Yes, an hour or two will see Brighton quit of the pair."
And it was so. A train was starting within an hour, and Tod and I galloped to the station. There they were: in a first-cla.s.s carriage: not apparently knowing each other, I verily believe, for he sat at one door and she at the other, pa.s.sengers dividing them.
"Lambs between two wolves," remarked Tod. "I have a great mind to warn the people of the sort of company they are in. Would it be actionable, Johnny?"
The train moved off as he was speaking. And may I never write another word, if I did not catch sight of the man-servant and his c.o.c.kade in the next carriage behind them!
IX.
d.i.c.k MITCHEL.