The net spread over London missing that which it was intended to catch, its meshes were lessened, and it was stretched out wider, and from every police-station in the country, and in every provincial town, the description of the fugitives went forth; but still they were not found. So cleverly had the scoundrel made his plans that no tidings whatever were obtained, and by degrees the pursuit waxed less hot. First one and then another cause célèbre took the attention of the police. Then Artingale grew less keen, for the months were gliding by, and he had devoted himself heart and soul to the cause for long enough without result.
Then more months passed, and still no news. The strange disappearance of Julia Mallow became almost historical, and it was only revived a little as a topic of conversation, when it was announced that Mr Perry-Morton had returned with his sisters from their long sojourn in Venice, and soon after it was rumoured in paragraphs that the talented leader of a certain clique was about to lead to the altar the daughter of a most distinguished member of the artistic world.
Luke Ross had been consulted by Magnus and Lord Artingale, and had helped them to the best of his power, counselling the enlistment of Tom Morrison and his wife upon their side; but he could do no more, and the matter was pushed from his mind by the hard study and work upon which he was engaged, till he read in the morning papers the announcement of Cynthia’s marriage to Lord Artingale, quite two years after Julia’s disappearance, the Mallows having again been a long time abroad.
Then, saving to a few, Julia was as one that is dead.
Part 2, Chapter XVI.
A Meeting—and Parting.
Three years passed away, and Julia’s disappearance remained a mystery to all, and it was calmly put away upon the dusty shelves of the past—by all save one.
Father had mourned for her, and time had somewhat assuaged his grief; mother had wept in silence upon her weary couch; sister talked less often now of ‘poor Julia’; brother, when he was seen, never mentioned her name. The whole matter had grown misty and pale in the distance of the bygone to all save James Magnus, and from that night he had never rested. Detectives had grown cold; other affairs had taken their attention; but nothing had checked the cold, stern, haggard man whose one aim in life now was to stand face to face with the ruffian who had made his life a wreck. Had Julia married Perry-Morton, he would have borne it in silence; but this was an outrage to his feelings that he could not bear, and taking sketching materials as an excuse, he had started off to find them, though he rarely put brush to paper now, for he was incessant in his searchings, and every likely nook and corner in London and the great cities was visited by him in turn.