The Mystery of M. Felix

by B. L. Farjeon

At this period of Emilia's life there entered into her soul a surprising strength. She became strong, morally and physically. All her energies, all her intellectual faculties, were braced up almost abnormally in the momentous mission upon which she was engaged. Feeling the importance of a starting-point, she determined to visit her native town, and to visit it alone. She learnt from the time-tables that a train started at 5 P.M. and arrived at 10. On the following day a train from London started at 4 P.M. and was due some six hours after, so that she need be absent from Constance for one night only. It was her first separation from her child, but she nerved herself to it, and instilled the same spirit into Constance, who consented without a murmur. Constance was to have her meals at home, to keep her doors locked and not stir out, and to wait up the second night for her mother's return.

"I shall be quite safe, mamma," said Constance, "and I shall not be dull. Nearly all the time you are away I shall be writing to Julian."

That night Emilia was once more in her native town. Eighteen years had passed since she left it, and it was with sadness she recognized familiar landmarks with which her childhood had been associated. She had taken the precaution of effecting a change in her appearance. She darkened her eyebrows and arranged her hair in a fashion so strange as to be startled when she looked into the glass. Moreover, she wore a thick veil. "No one will know me," she thought. But when she issued from the hotel the next morning she was a little afraid, for among the first persons she met was Mrs. Seaton. The cruel woman was but little altered; her features were more pinched, her eyes more stern than of yore, but Emilia knew her instantly. Mrs. Seaton, however, did not recognize Emilia, although she looked at her sharply, as was her wont with strangers. There was in the town a gossip who kept a small shop, and thither Emilia went, and, entering the shop, was greeted by the same woman who used to serve her in former years. Making some purchases and bargaining for others, Emilia drew the woman into conversation, and learned all she wished to know. Oh, yes, the woman remembered the brothers Paget very well, very well indeed. They were not brothers, no, they were stepbrothers. There was a fire in their house, and it was burned down, how many years ago? Eighteen or twenty, she could not quite say to a year or two; and a young lady, Miss Braham--Emilia Braham, that was her right name--rushed out of the house in the middle of the night while the fire was raging. There was a lot of talk about it. Miss Braham's father died suddenly--was killed by the falling of a scaffold--and Emilia was left alone, without a shilling in the world. Then she got a situation with Mrs. Seaton--Oh, everybody knew Mrs. Seaton; she had a sharp tongue, and had more enemies than friends--and she left her mistress' house at a moment's notice. Late at night, too. Mrs. Seaton said she had planned a secret meeting with Mr. Gerald Paget--he was the handsomest and the youngest of the step-brothers--and that was the reason of her going away so suddenly. It did look suspicious, didn't it? And it looked more than suspicious when she rushed out of Mr. Gerald's house in the middle of the night to save herself from being burned alive. That is often how people are found out in a way they little expect. But there were some people afterward who took Miss Braham's part, and said she wasn't guilty, though appearances were so much against her. That was because two ladies--old maids they were, and sisters--stood up for her, and went about saying all sorts of kind things about Miss Braham. What is that you say? God bless them for it! Yes, they deserve all that; they were kind-hearted ladies. They're in the churchyard now, and know more than we do. Well, these old maids took Miss Braham home on the night of the fire, when she was in a high fever, and no wonder, with what was on her mind; and Mrs. Seaton went there and told them they were being imposed upon by a shameless young woman. It was a hard thing to do, and she might have held her tongue, but that is not Mrs. Seaton's way. Once she takes a grudge against a body she don't let them alone, not she. While she was, with the old maids talking against Miss Braham, the young lady herself heard it, it seems, and she ran away, no one knew where to. Mr. Gerald, who must have been very much in love with her, was in a dreadful way about her, and the lawyers were busy trying to find her; and his step-brother, Mr. Leonard, who had come home from Australia that very morning, helped him, too. Then the two brothers went away together, and nothing was heard of them, or of Miss Braham, for months and months, till it got about that poor Mr. Gerald had been killed by falling over a precipice in foreign parts. Then Mr. Leonard came home, and took possession of the property, which all fell to him. What did he do with it? He sold it all off, and went to London to live, and that's where he is now, for all she knew. It was a lot of money he came into; some say as much as five or six thousand pounds a year, but he was just the sort of gentleman to make ducks and drakes with it. That was the whole story of the two brothers and Miss Emilia Braham. You would like to know something more! What is it? When Mr. Leonard Paget came home didn't he say anything about Miss Braham? No, not a word, so far as she knew, and she would have been sure to hear of it if he had. No, she was positive he never said one single word about her. She did not suppose he knew what became of her, and most likely, after a time, he forgot her altogether.

Then the garrulous shopwoman, having exhausted her budget, reckoned up the purchases which Emilia had made, and having received payment, bade her customer good day.

Emilia's next visit was to a flower shop, where she bought some loose flowers; then to the churchyard, where she was directed to the grave of the maiden sisters. She knelt and prayed there, and left the flowers on their grave.

She had learned that Leonard was in London, and as there was no occasion for her to remain any longer in the town she took an earlier train than that she had marked, and arrived home four hours before Constance expected her. Reflecting upon her situation during that night, she felt how powerless she was. Leonard, she had every reason to believe, was in London, but to look for him in that vast city in the hope of finding him was scarcely within reason. And, indeed, had she not been befriended by some strange chance she might have remained in London for years without meeting the man for whom she was seeking. But it happened so, and an important stage was reached in her inquiry.

The weather was bitterly cold, and snow was falling heavily, but this did not keep her at home. In a kind of fever she traversed the streets of the city, selecting those which a man of fashion and fond of pleasure would be most likely to frequent. On the fourth day of her search she was walking in Regent Street, when she suddenly stopped with her hand at her heart. It was as much as she could do to prevent herself from screaming aloud, for walking leisurely before her, with a light step and jaunty air, was Leonard Paget himself. By a powerful effort she controlled her agitation, and set herself the task of following him. She had caught a glimpse of his face, and she could not be mistaken. He looked older and thinner, but his expression was that of a man who was enjoying the pleasures of the world and making the most of them. Having thus providentially tracked him down, Emilia determined not to lose sight of him. Her desire was to ascertain where he lived, and in the doing so to keep herself from his sight. To accost him in the open street would be madness. No, she must speak to him in a place where he could not easily escape from her, where he could not thrust her off. "If he takes a cab," she thought, "I will take another and follow him. If he walks all day and night, I will walk after him. He shall not, he shall not, evade me now." No detective could have been more determined and wary than she, but her present task did not occupy her very long. The cold day was no temptation to the man before her, and it happened fortunately for Emilia, that his face was homeward turned. He walked to the bottom of Regent Street, and plunged into the narrow tangle of thoroughfares on the left. The numbers of people favored her pursuit, and she was not noticed. True, the man did not know he was being followed, and only looked back when a pretty girl passed him. Presently he was in Soho, and in one or two of the streets through which she passed Emilia feared detection, there being fewer persons in them; but still he had no suspicion, and walked carelessly, gayly on. At length he stopped before a house in Gerard Street, took a latch-key from his pocket, opened the door, entered, and closed it behind him.

Emilia drew a long breath. It was there he lived; but she would make sure.

A boy with a basket of bread slung across his shoulders had stopped at the next house to deliver a loaf. Leonard Paget had passed the boy, who looked at him while he was opening the street door. Then the boy, having received some money, lounged on to the house which Leonard had entered, and knocked and rang. The housekeeper, Mrs. Middlemore, answered the summons, and took in a loaf. When the street door was closed again Emilia crossed over to the lad, and asked him if he would like a shilling, to which the boy facetiously replied that he would like two, but would put up with one if he could not get more.

"I will give you two," said Emilia, "if you answer a few questions."