Run to Earth by Mary Elizabeth Braddon (ready player one ebook TXT) 📕

his own culpable carelessness.

“My telling the truth won’t bring the child back,” he argued with

himself. “If it would, I’d speak out fast enough.”

“You say that it is impossible that any one can have entered this

house, and left it, during that night,” said Captain Copplestone to the

housekeeper; “and yet some one must have left the house, even if no one

entered it, or Gertrude Eversleigh must be hidden within these walls.

Has the castle been thoroughly searched? There are stories of children

who have hidden themselves in sport, to find the sport end in terrible

earnest.”

“The castle has been searched from garret to cellar,” answered Mrs.

Morden. “Mrs. Smithson and I have gone together into every room, and

opened every cupboard.”

The captain dismissed the assembly, after having asked many questions

without result. When this was done, he went alone to the library, where

he shut himself in, and seated himself at the writing-table, with pen

and ink before him, to meditate upon, the steps which should be first

taken in the work that lay before him.

That work was no less painful a task than the writing of a letter to

Lady Eversleigh, to inform her of the calamity which had taken place—

of the terrible realization of her worst fears. Captain Copplestone’s

varied and adventurous life had never brought him a severer or more

painful duty, but he was not the man to shirk or defer it, because it

involved suffering to himself.

The letter was written, and despatched by the evening post, and then

the captain shut himself up in his own room, and gave way to the

bitterest grief he had ever experienced.

Who shall describe the agony which Lady Eversleigh suffered when

Captain Copplestone’s letter reached her? For the first half-hour after

she read it, a blight seemed to fall upon her senses, and she sat still

in her chair, stupefied; but when she rallied, her first impulse was to

send for Andrew Larkspur, who was now nearly restored to his usual

state of sound health.

She rang the bell, and summoned Jane Payland.

“There is a lawyer’s clerk living in this house,” she said; “Mr.

Andrews. Go to him immediately, and ask him to favour me with an

interview. I wish to consult him on a matter of business.”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Miss Payland, looking inquisitively at the ashen

face of her mistress. “There’s something fresh this morning,” she

muttered to herself, as she tripped lightly up the stairs to do her

bidding.

Mr. Larkspur—or Mr. Andrews—presented himself before Lady Eversleigh

a few minutes after he received her message. He found her pacing the

room in a fever of excitement.

“Good gracious me, ma’am!” he exclaimed; “is there anything amiss?”

“Yes,” she answered, handing him the letter.

Mr. Larkspur read the letter to the end, and then read it again.

“This is a bad job,” he said, calmly; “what’s to be done now?”

“You must accompany me to Raynham Castle—you must help me to find my

child!” cried Honoria, in wild excitement. “You are better now, Mr.

Larkspur, you can bear the journey? For Heaven’s sake, do not say you

cannot aid me. You must come with me, Andrew Larkspur. I do not offer

to bribe you—I say you must come! Bring me my darling safe to my

arms, and you may name your own reward for that priceless service.”

“No, no,” said Mr. Larkspur; “I don’t say that. I am well enough, so

far as that goes, but how about our little schemes in London?”

“Never mind them—never think of them! What are they to me now?”

“Very well, my lady,” answered Mr. Larkspur; “if it must be so, it must

be. I must turn my back upon the neatest business that ever a Bow

Street officer handled, just as it’s getting most interesting to a

well-regulated mind.”

“And you’ll come with me at once?”

“Give me one hour to make my plans, ma’am, and I’m your man,” replied

Mr. Larkspur. “I’ll pack a carpet-bag, leave it down stairs, take a

hackney coach to Bow Street, see my deputy, and arrange some matters

for him, and be ready one hour from this time, when you’ll be so kind

as to call for me in a post-chaise—not forgetting to bring my carpet-bag with you in the boot, if you please. And now you be so good as to

keep up your spirits, ma’am, like a Trojan—which I’ve heard the

Trojans had an uncommon hard time of it in their day. If the child is

to be found, Andrew Larkspur is the man to find her; and as to reward,

we won’t talk about that, if you please, my lady. I may be a hard-fisted one, but I’m not the individual to trade upon the feelings of a

mother that has lost her only child.”

Having said this, Mr. Larkspur departed, and in less than two hours he

and Lady Eversleigh were seated in a post-chaise, behind four horses,

tearing along the road between London and Barnet.

And thus additional security attended the schemes of Victor Carrington.

CHAPTER XXXV.

LARKSPUR TO THE RESCUE.

The journey of Lady Eversleigh and her companion, the Bow Street

officer, was as rapid as the journey of Captain Copplestone. Along the

same northern road as that which he had travelled a few days before

flew the post-chaise containing the anguish-stricken mother and her

strange ally. In this hour of agony and suspense, Honoria Eversleigh

looked to the queer, wizened little police-officer, Andrew Larkspur, as

the best friend she had on earth.

“You’ll find my child for me?” she cried many times during the course

of that long journey, appealing to Mr. Larkspur, with clasped hands and

streaming eyes. “Oh, tell me that you’ll find her for me. For pity’s

sake, give me some comfort—some hope.”

“I’ll give you plenty of comfort, and plenty of hope, too, mum, if

you’ll only cheer up and trust in me,” answered the luminary of Bow

Street, with that stolid calmness of manner which seemed as if it would

scarcely have been disturbed by an earthquake. “You keep up your

spirits, and don’t give way. If the little lady is alive, I’ll bring

her back to you safe and sound. If—if—so be as she’s—contrarywise,”

added Mr. Larkspur, alarmed by the wild look in his companion’s eyes,

as he was about to pronounce the terrible word she so much feared to

hear, “why, in that case I’ll find them as have done the deed, and they

shall pay for it.”

“Oh, give her back to me!” exclaimed Honoria; “give her back! Let me

hold her in my arms once more. I abandon all thought of revenge upon

those who have so basely wronged me. Let Providence alone deal with

them and their crime. It may be this punishment has come to me, because

I have sought to usurp the office of Providence. Let me have my darling

once more, and I will banish from my heart every feeling which a

Christian should abjure.”

Bitter remorse was mingled with the agony which rent the mother’s heart

in those terrible hours. All at once her eyes were opened to the deep

and dreadful guilt involved in those vengeful feelings she had so long

nourished, to the exclusion of all tender emotions, all generous

instincts.

Bitterly did the mother upbraid herself as she sat, with her hands

clasped tightly together, her pale face turned to the window, her

haggard eyes looking out at every object on the road, eager to behold

any landmark that would tell her that she was so many miles nearer the

end of her journey.

She had concluded that, as a matter of course, the disappearance of the

child had been directly or indirectly the work of Sir Reginald

Eversleigh; and she said as much to Mr. Larkspur. But, to her surprise,

she found that he did not share her opinion upon this subject.

“If you ask me whether Sir Reginald is in it, I’ll tell you candidly,

no, my lady, I don’t think he is. I don’t need to tell you that I’ve

had a deal of experience in my time; and, if that experience is worth a

brass button, Sir Reginald hasn’t any hand in this business down in

Yorkshire.”

“Not directly, perhaps, but indirectly,” interrupted Honoria.

“Neither one nor the other,” answered the great man of Bow Street.

“I’ve had my eye upon the baronet ever since you put me up to watching

him; and there’s precious little he could do without my spotting him. I

know what letters he has written, and I know more or less what has been

in those letters. I know what people he has seen, and more or less what

he has said to them; and I don’t see that it’s possible he could have

carried on such a game as this abduction of Missy without my having an

inkling of it.”

“But what of his ally—his bosom-friend and confederate—Victor

Carrington? May not his treacherous hand have struck this blow?”

“I think not, my lady,” replied Mr. Larkspur. “I’ve had my eye upon

that gentleman likewise, as per agreement; for when Andrew Larkspur

guarantees to do a thing, he ain’t the man to do it by halves. I’ve

kept a close watch upon Mr. Carrington; and with the exception of his

parleyvous francais-ing with that sharp-nosed, shabby-genteel lady-companion of Madame Durski’s, there’s very few of his goings-on I

haven’t been able to reckon up to a fraction. No, my lady, there’s some

one else in this business; and who that some one else is, it’ll be my

duty to find out. But I can’t do anything till I get on the ground.

When I get on the ground, and have had time to look about me, I shall

be able to form an opinion.”

Honoria was fain to be patient, to put her trust in heaven, and,

beneath heaven, in this pragmatical little police-officer, who really

felt as much compassion for her sorrow as it was possible for a man so

steeped in the knowledge of crime and iniquity, and so hardened by

contact with the worst side of the world, to feel for any human grief.

She was compelled to be patient, or, at any rate, to assume that

outward aspect of calmness which seems like patience, while the heart

within her breast throbbed tumultuously as storm-driven waves.

At last the wearisome journey came to an end. She entered the arched

gateway of Raynham Castle; and, as she looked out of the carriage

window, she saw the big black letters, printed on a white broadside,

offering a reward of three hundred pounds for the early restoration of

the missing child.

Mr. Larkspur gave a scornful sniff as he perceived this bill.

“That won’t bring her back,” he muttered. “Those who’ve taken her away

will play a deeper game than to bring her back for the first reward

that’s offered, or the second, or the third. She’ll have to be found by

those that are a match for the scoundrel that stole her from her home;

and perhaps he will find his match before long, clever as he is.”

The meeting between Honoria and Captain Copplestone was a very quiet

one. She was far too noble, far too just to reproach the friend in whom

she had trusted, even though he had failed in his trust.

He had heard the approach of the post-chaise, and he awaited her on the

threshold of the door. He had gone forth to many a desperate encounter;

but he