Part 25 (1/2)
”`Remember what place?' demanded her husband, sternly, as he returned with the medicine.
”No answer was given. The woman fell back on hearing his voice, but, although she lived for nearly an hour, never spoke again.
”The man turned on me, and asked again what place she had been speaking of. I said that it was idle to repeat what might prove to be only the ravings of a dying woman. He seized a bludgeon, and, raising it in a threatening manner, said, `I know you, Dr n.o.ble; you shall tell me what I want to know, else you shall not quit this room alive.'
”`I know you, too, Thomson,' said I, drawing a small sword from a stick which I always carried. `If you proceed to violence, it remains to be seen who shall quit this room alive.'
”I opened the door and walked quietly out, leaving him glaring like a tiger after me.
”Going to the place described, I found the diamonds; and from that day to this I have not ceased to try to discover my old friend, but have not yet succeeded. Knowing that he might be dead, I have made inquiry of every one possessing your name, Mrs Tipps, in the hope of discovering his widow or children; and, although your name _is_ an uncommon one, madam, you would be surprised if you knew how many I have ferreted out in the course of years. Unfortunately, my friend never mentioned his family, or the place of his residence in England, so I have had no clue to guide me save one. I have even found two widows of the name of Tipps besides yourself, and one of these said that her husband was a sailor captain, but her description of him was not that of my friend. The other said her husband had been a lawyer, so of course _he_ could not be the man of whom I was in search.”
”But, sir,” said Mrs Tipps, in some perplexity, ”if you are to depend on description, I fear that you will never attain your end, for every one knows that descriptions given of the same person by different people never quite agree.”
”That is true, madam; and the description given to me this evening of your late husband is a case in point; for, although it agrees in many things--in most things--there is some discrepancy. Did your husband never give you the slightest hint about a set of diamonds that he had once lost?”
”Never; but I can account for that by the fact, that he never alluded to anything that had at any time given him pain or displeasure, if he could avoid it.”
”There is but the one clue, then, that I spoke of, namely, the ring that belonged to the set of diamonds. Did your husband ever possess--”
”The ring!” exclaimed Mrs Tipps and Netta in the same breath. ”Yes, he had a diamond ring--”
They stopped abruptly, and looked at each other in distress, for they remembered that the ring had been lost.
”Pray, what sort of ring is it? Describe it to me,” said Dr n.o.ble.
Netta carefully described it and, as she did so, the visitor's countenance brightened.
”That's it; that's it exactly; that _must_ be it for I remember it well, and it corresponds in all respects with--my dear ladies, let me see the ring without delay.”
”Alas! sir,” said Mrs Tipps, sadly, ”the ring is lost!”
A look of blank dismay clouded poor Dr n.o.ble's visage as he heard these words, but he quickly questioned the ladies as to the loss, and became more hopeful on bearing the details.
”Come,” he said at last, as he rose to take leave, ”things don't look quite so bad as they did at first. From all I have heard I am convinced that my friend's widow and daughter are before me--a sight of the ring would put the question beyond all doubt. We must therefore set to work at once and bend all our energies to the one great point of recovering the lost ring.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
A RUN-AWAY LOCOMOTIVE.
Being, as we have had occasion to remark before, a communicative and confiding little woman, Netta Tipps told the secret of the ring in strict confidence to her old nurse. Mrs Durby, in a weak moment as on a former occasion, related the history of it to Gertie, who of course told Loo. She naturally mentioned it to her lover, Will Garvie, and he conveyed the information to John Marrot. Thus far, but no further, the thing went, for John felt that there might be danger in spreading the matter, and laid a strict injunction on all who knew of it to keep silence for a time.
While at the station the day following, just after having brought in the ”Flying Dutchman,” he was accosted by the superintendent of police, who chanced to be lounging there with, apparently, nothing to do. Never was there a man who was more frequently called on to belie his true character. It was a part of Mr Sharp's duty to look lazy at times, and even stupid, so as to throw suspicious men off their guard.
”A fine day, John,” he said, lounging up to the engine where John was leaning on the rail, contemplating the departure of the pa.s.sengers whose lives had been in his hands for the last hour and a half, while Will Garvie was oiling some of the joints of the iron horse.
John admitted that it was a fine day, and asked what was the noos.
”Nothing particular doing just now,” said Mr Sharp. ”You've heard, I suppose, of the mad fellow who caused such a confusion among Miss Tipps's Sunday-school children last night?”
”Oh yes, I heard o' that.”