CHAPTER XXIV.
[DR. VINSEN TAKES AN INTEREST IN DICK.]
The admonition was needed, for his brain was in a whirl. The disclosure of Reginald's movements made by Florence, his statement to her that he had an idea for improving his circumstances which he intended to carry out "whatever came of it," his silence regarding his visits to the house in Catchpole Square, his fevered ravings about his father--were, as Dick said with a groan, "so many nails in his coffin."
"No doubt can exist," he argued, "that Samuel Boyd was murdered either by his son Reginald or by Abel Death. If what I know were made public Reginald would be immediately arrested and charged. Poor Florence! She little knows what is in store for her, and what can't be hidden much longer. But where, where is Abel Death? Is it possible that he also has been murdered? That would make things worse for Reginald. I'll search the house from top to bottom to-night in the hope of not finding his body, for then the chance of his being the murderer would still be open. If Florence's husband is put in the dock we'll make a fight for his life."
Having thus relieved his mind he struck a bee-line for Aunt Rob's house, and his knock at the door was instantly answered by her and Inspector Robson.
"I bring good news," said Dick, in a cheery tone.
"You have found her!" cried Aunt Rob, quivering with excitement.
"Yes, I have found her."
"Thank God--oh, thank God!"
Inspector Robson, pale as death, grasped Dick's hand, and in a husky voice asked, "Is she well?"
"Quite well--and waiting to see you."
Aunt Rob threw on her bonnet and mantle. "Here's your hat, father," she said, almost breathless, "we must go to her at once. Come, Dick, come."
"Stop a minute," he said, laying his hand on her arm, "I have something to tell you first."
"I don't want to hear anything," she cried, sternly. "I want my child!"
"Let Dick speak," said Inspector Robson.
Then Dick related all that Florence had told him, and their joy at recovering their daughter was so great that they had no word of reproach for her. The dear child was found, and they would be once more re-united. What more could they desire?
"They must come here this very day, father," said Aunt Rob. "This is their home till they get one of their own."
He nodded, and the fond parents, accompanied by Dick, hastened to the dear one, with love and forgiveness in their hearts. When they were all together in Florence's room he stood apart, a silent witness of the joyful meeting. How the parents embraced and wept over their child, how she clung to them and kissed them, and entreated them to believe that her love for them was stronger than it had ever been! Aunt Rob's tearful eyes shone with gladness; her one ewe lamb was restored to her; a sacred joy stirred their hearts at this re-union.
Then, when their agitation had somewhat subsided, and they had stepped in softly to see Reginald, who was still asleep, came the question of his removal.
"It must be left to the doctor," said Uncle Rob. "When do you expect him, Florence?"
"He is coming to-night, between eight and nine o'clock," she answered, and added, with a wistful look, "we are very poor, father."
"You share with us, my dear," was his ready response. "All we have is yours. Mother, it is hardly likely he can be removed for a day or two. You will stay with Florence to-night."
"And every night," said Aunt Rob, "till we get her home. I don't let her out of my sight. Dick, what are you looking so glum for?"
"Am I looking glum?" he said, striving to speak cheerfully. "I was not aware of it."
"Dear Dick!" said Florence, stepping to his side. "How can we thank you?"
"That will do, that will do," he said. "As if anybody in my place wouldn't have done the same! I must be off now--a thousand things to attend to."
"Pop into the office between eight and nine for a chat," said Uncle Rob.
"All right, uncle, I'll be there," answered Dick, waving goodbye to the happy group.
He was glad to get away, to think of the work before him. The search in Samuel Boyd's house for the body of Abel Death must be made to-night; it might be the last opportunity he would have to do so secretly.
"I must dodge the police, and I must get in early," he thought. "At nine I will have a chat with Uncle Rob, at ten I'll be in Catchpole Square. My mind is in a state of muddle. Let me see how the case stands in respect of dates and the consecutive order of events. To save confusion I will jot them down."
Taking a small memorandum book from his pocket he halted at a street corner, and made the following entries:
"Friday, 1st March.--Abel Death discharged by Samuel Boyd. He pays a visit to Catchpole Square at about ten o'clock to beg Boyd to take him back into his service. Reginald's two visits to the house, the first in the afternoon, the second late at night, hour unknown. In his haste to get away on the second occasion he drops in the passage the key of the street door. Samuel Boyd murdered. Query--Did Abel Death and Reginald meet? Would it be advisable, when Reginald is in his right senses, to ask him about this?
"Saturday, 2nd March.--Mrs. Death goes to Catchpole Square to obtain news of her husband. Unsuccessful. Good reason for it. Dead men tell no tales. Reginald back in his lodgings, in bed, delirious. The events of the previous night being fresh in his mind, it is likely he raved about them. Query--Who attended to him? His landlady. Did she hear anything that would furnish a clue, and will this occur to her when the murder is discovered?
"Sunday, 3d March.--Mrs. Death repeats her visits to Catchpole Square. Same result. Same reason for it.
"Monday, 4th March.--Mrs. Death continues her visits to Catchpole Square.
"Tuesday, 5th March.--The day of the great fog. My conversation with Uncle Rob in the police station. Mrs. Death and Gracie are brought in. Her story. Florence leaves home secretly to nurse Reginald. Fearing that he is dying, and gathering from his ravings that he wishes to see his father, she goes to Catchpole Square after midnight. She is seen by the police and drops her handkerchief, which Constable Pond picks up. My conversation with Applebee. He tells me that Pond has a room to let. I reconnoitre Samuel Boyd's house, and determine to force an entrance next night. Only one way of getting in, by means of rope and grapnel.
"Wednesday, 6th March.--At the police court with Mrs. Death and Gracie. I write par. for 'L. B. B.' I take lodgings in Pond's house, and obtain possession of Florence's handkerchief. Visit Aunt Rob, and learn particulars of Florence's flight. I purchase rope and grapnel. I visit Mrs. Death. No news of her husband. Make the acquaintance of Dr. Vinsen. He gives Mrs. Death two pounds. Why should he be so generous? At one in the morning I get over dead wall, and into Samuel Boyd's house. Discovery of the murder. Find Samuel Boyd's written accusation of his son. Pocket it. Find Reginald's key to street door. Pocket it. Things look black.
"Thursday, 7th March--Visit Aunt Rob. Receive letter from Florence. Go to her. Fetch Aunt and Uncle Rob. Leave them together. Things look blacker."
Replacing the memorandum book in his pocket he became conscious that he was being observed. Looking up he saw the sleepy eyes of Dr. Vinsen fixed upon him.
"My dear young friend," said the doctor, with an amused smile, "I have been observing you for quite three minutes, and wondering what engrossing task you were engaged upon to make you oblivious of passers-by. An effort of literature--a poem--an inspiration? I envy the literary character. So free, so untrammelled by the ordinary circumstances of our prosaic existence! It soars on the wings of imagination into fairy realms--in-to fai-ry realms. Who knows that you have not in your pocket"--he tapped Dick's breast with a light finger--"something that will open our minds to noble truths? Who knows--who knows?"
"I know," said Dick. "If an account of how many socks, and collars, and handkerchiefs I have sent to the wash will elevate mankind I am sure I have no objection."
"A washing account," said Dr. Vinsen, with a gentle laugh. "Dear, dear, dear! But romance and mystery may be found even in commonplace matters. Look around. Observe the men and women who are passing us. What secrets are hidden in their breasts? In yours? In mine? It occurs to me at this moment to inquire whether mystery is the offspring of romance, or romance the offspring of mystery?"
"You can take your choice," said Dick, attempting to shake Dr. Vinsen off.
"Can one take one's choice?" said Dr. Vinsen, walking by Dick's side, and ignoring his companion's distaste for his society. "Is it open to us to do so? Are we free agents? Are we not rather like boats on a strange sea, with hidden currents that whirl us on, and occasionally bring destruction upon us--des-truc-tion up-on us? Do you happen to be aware if the missing man has returned to the bosom of his family?"
"I am not aware of it. I should consider it very unlikely."
"Then you have a theory concerning his mysterious disappearance." Dick shook his head sullenly. "No? Perhaps you are right not to trouble yourself. I perceive that you are not in the mood for conversation. My dear young friend, I take my leave. If I can be of any service, pray command me."
So saying, Dr. Vinsen raised his hat, affording the world a view of his bald head and his halo, and slowly ambled away.
"Confound you!" said Dick, looking after him. "Why did you raise your hat to me? I am not that kind of man, you know."
His mind was in a state to magnify and distort the simplest matters. To such an extent that the voice of a newsboy shouting in an adjoining street caused him to hurry in that direction to buy a paper. There was nothing in it touching the murder, and he crumpled it up and threw it into the road So he idled away the time until a few minutes before nine, when he entered the Bishop Street Police Station, where his uncle expected him.
"Well, Dick, my lad," said Inspector Robson, "things have taken a turn since our talk the night before last."
"They have, indeed," returned Dick, and thought, "If you knew all!"
"It has been a terrible time," said the inspector, "and we owe you what we can never repay."
"You make too much of it, uncle. What did I do but go to Florence when she asked me? Did you stop long with her?"
"Till the last minute. Had tea there. It's a blessing the mystery's over; it almost drove me mad. It isn't a pleasant reflection that Reginald is the son of such a man as Samuel Boyd, but it would be hard lines to blame children for the faults of their parents. Have you seen Mrs. Death and her little girl?"
"Yes," replied Dick, "I have been twice to their lodgings, and they have heard nothing of the missing man. They are in great poverty--there are seven little children----"
"Poor creature! How's the little girl?"
"There's a chance of her getting well. A friend has unexpectedly turned up, and a doctor is attending her."
Then he related all that he knew of Dr. Vinsen.
"Have you ever heard of him, uncle?"
"Never; he must be a kind gentleman, and I'm glad such a piece of good fortune has fallen to Mrs. Death's share. I wish we could find her husband for her. Dick, now that Reginald is connected with us, a watch ought to be kept on the house in Catchpole Square. Constable Applebee says it looks as if it was quite deserted. If it remains so a day or two longer I shall consider what is best to be done. Abel Death and Mr. Boyd are mixed up together in my mind, and some steps should be taken to clear the mystery. You remember what you said about murder--do you still hold to it?"
It was an awkward question, and Dick gave an evasive reply.
"You might have a look round Catchpole Square yourself, Dick."
"I will do so," said Dick, and soon afterwards took his departure.