Part 75 (2/2)
”Yes; let me know the worst.”
”I'm afraid it is, sir. We have made no examination yet.”
He did not finish all he had to say aloud, but whispered in the old man's ear. Uncle Luke made an effort to be firm, but he shuddered and turned to Leslie.
”Up to the King's Arms,” he said huskily; and taking Leslie's arm, the old man walked slowly towards the waterside inn; but they had not gone half-way before they encountered George Vine coming hastily down.
Uncle Luke's whole manner changed.
”Where are you going?” he cried half angrily.
His brother merely pointed to the boat.
”How did you know? Who told you?” he said harshly.
”Nne,” was the calm reply. ”Luke, do you suppose I could rest without watching for what I knew must come?”
His piteous, reproachful voice went to the heart of his hearers.
”Tell me,” he continued earnestly, ”Mr Leslie, the truth.”
”There is nothing to tell, sir,” said Leslie gravely, ”so far it is only surmise. Come with us and wait.”
Their suspense was not of long duration. In a very short time they were summoned from where they were waiting to another room, where Dr Knatchbull came forward with a face so full of the gravity of the situation that any hope which flickered in Duncan Leslie's breast died out on the instant; and he heard George Vine utter a low moan, as, arm in arm, the two brothers advanced for the identification, and then Luke led his brother away.
Leslie followed to lend his aid, but Uncle Luke signed to him to go back.
He stood watching them till they disappeared up the narrow path leading to the old granite house, and a sense of misery such as he had never before felt swelled in the young man's breast, for, as he watched the bent forms of the two brothers, he saw in imagination what must follow, and his brow grew heavy as he seemed to see Louise sobbing on her father's neck, heart-broken at her loss.
”And yet I could not help clinging to the hope that he had swum ash.o.r.e,”
muttered Leslie, as he walked back to the inn, where he found Dr Knatchbull in conversation with the officer.
”I wish I had never seen Cornwall, sir,” said the latter warmly; ”poor lad! poor lad!”
”Then there is no doubt whatever?” said Leslie hurriedly.
”Identification after all these days in the water is impossible,” said the doctor; ”I mean personal identification.”
”Then it may not be after all,” said Leslie excitedly.
The detective shrugged his shoulders, and took a packet from a little black bag. This he opened carefully, and placed before Leslie a morocco pocket-book and a card-case, both stamped with a gold coronet and the motto, _Roy et Foy_, while, when the card-case was drawn open and its water-soaked contents were taken out, the cards separated easily, and there, plainly enough, was the inscription, the result of Aunt Marguerite's inciting--
”_Henri Comte des Vignes_.”
Volume 2, Chapter XIX.
POLL PERROW GOES A-BEGGING.
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