Dorothy's Double. Volume 3 (of 3)

by G. A. Henty

'It is from Ned himself,' Mr. Hawtrey said. 'Thank God for that!'

Dorothy repeated the exclamation of thankfulness in a low tone; her hands moved unsteadily among the tea-things in front of her and then she suddenly burst into tears.

Her father went round to her. 'There, there, my child,' he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, 'do not distress yourself. I know that you must have been as anxious as I have for the last month, as to the fate of your old friend, though you have chosen to keep it to yourself. I know that you must have felt it even more from having treated him unjustly before he went away.'

'I shall be better directly, father; it is very silly.'

'It is not silly at all, Dorothy,' he said, as he went back to his seat; 'it is only natural that you should have been anxious when you knew a friend was lying dangerously wounded, and that you should be upset now that you hear of his recovery. I will glance through the letter and tell you what he says.'

Danvers had written but a few lines with the letter.

'My dear Mr. Hawtrey,—I enclose Hampton's letter, which speaks for itself. I think that his conjecture as to the author of the attempt on his life is likely to be correct, and much as I should be glad to hear that your daughter was finally and satisfactorily cleared from these charges, I cannot but regret that Hampton should have undertaken so dangerous a business as that upon which he has embarked. I think it better to send you his letter, especially as we are not likely to hear again from him for a long time.'

Ned Hampton's letter commenced with an expression of regret that his friend should have been unduly alarmed about him by his boy having sent off the letter with an addition of his own. 'Of course he meant well, but it was a pity he did it. The wound was a severe one and no doubt I had a very narrow escape of my life. I was rising from my seat as the fellow struck at me from behind. That movement saved my life, for the bowie knife—a formidable weapon in use here—went down to the handle between my shoulder-bone and my ribs. That is, I take it, the plain English of the surgeon's technical explanation. The boy did his best, and sprang at the negro as I fell, and got a blow on the top of his head with the handle of the knife. It stunned him and made a nasty scalp wound, and would probably have killed him if it had not glanced off. The scoundrel only got a few dollars, for I had fortunately emptied my pockets of valuables before leaving the hotel.'

The writer then went on to state that he had discovered that the people they were in search of 'had left their hotel suddenly half an hour after I had landed. They had taken a passage up the river, and there seemed no reason for their sudden departure. Putting that and the attack together I can't help thinking that there must be some connection between them. The attack alone might have been accounted for. It is a lawless sort of place, and seating myself as I did on the deserted wharf, any ruffian who noticed me might have considered me a likely victim, just as he might have in any city of Europe; but the fact of these people leaving so suddenly rather alters the case, and I cannot help thinking that Truscott must have been among the crowd on the wharf when the steamer went in, and that he recognised me.

'He may have noticed me with the Hawtreys at the Oaks, or I may have been pointed out to him that day I saw him and followed him; he may have been watching the house in Chester Square, and have seen me come out; he may have noticed me walking with Mr. Hawtrey. If he did recognise me it would account for his sudden departure; and as I find that he had an intimate acquaintance in New Orleans, he may have left him to take steps to effectually prevent further pursuit. They are bound, as I found out by the outfit they bought here, for California; they go up the Missouri to Omaha, and start from there in a waggon across the plains. What they intend to do there I cannot, of course, say; the only clue I have is that the police have discovered for me that the man they went about with, whose name was Murdoch, was the keeper of a low saloon here, frequented by sailors and a low class of gamblers. He sold his place three or four days before he started, and has gone up with them. His name is on the list of passengers, so it may be that they are going to open a gambling place at one of the mining camps.