“Abroad—traveling for his health, I think.”
“And—this man Norton, who must have set up the fraudulent obituary, where is he?”
“Nobody knows. He never returned to the office. I never saw him, or heard of him again. His was one of the cases of ‘Mysterious Disappearance,’ and as such it was noticed in all the local papers. All had different theories. The Middlemoor Messenger thought that he had been made away with by pitmen. The wretched pitmen get blamed for all the undiscovered crime in the county. They live mostly in darkness, and so people seem to believe that they ‘love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil.’ But this is not so.”
“And no clew was ever discovered to the fate of Norton?”
“None, sir. You see he was a single man, without any near relations, and so the affair was soon forgotten.”
“Well,” said Abel Force, straightening himself up, “I thank you for the information you have given me, and the opportunity you have afforded us of comparing the fraudulent paper with that of the same date on your file. This is your mailing day, and I must not detain you.”
“Come in at any time, sir; we shall be glad to see you. Making any stay in this place, sir?”
“Thank you. No, only over the Sabbath. Good-day.”
“Good-day, sir.”
“Le,” said Mr. Force, as they re-entered the carriage, “we are on the track of the fraud, but need not pursue it in the direction of that man and boy. Now we will see what the tombstones have to tell us.”