Rogues and Vagabonds

by George R. Sims

But although he had argued himself almost into a sense of security with regard to this special event, he was continually haunted by the idea that many of his old companions in guilt were still about, and that he might always be liable to awkward visits and rencontres. He had not gone under any alias. He was known as Edward Marston in the old days, and he was Edward Marston now. The name was tainted, but he must bear it still. If he were ever to become famous or take a position in society it must be as Edward Marston, and then—— He hardly liked to think what a constant temptation he would offer to his unscrupulous acquaintances, if once he became a prominent person. It wasn’t pleasant to think that they would always be able to find him out and trade upon their knowledge of the past.

Mr. and Mrs. Adrian had welcomed the newly wedded pair to the new home, and a very pretty, comfortable home it was. The old couple had their own suite of apartments and their own servants, but Mrs. Adrian was not inclined to remain in her own territory.

She still considered that she had conferred an immense favour on Marston in allowing him to live with them, and she took care that he should understand it.

Ruth feared sometimes lest her mother’s brusquerie should annoy him, but it didn’t in the least; and when Mr. Adrian, painfully alive to Marston’s generosity in the matter, suggested that perhaps, after all, the good lady ought to learn the secret of their misfortunes, Marston wouldn’t hear of it.

‘Nonsense!’ he said; ‘it would break her heart. Let her enjoy herself here, and be mistress of everything if she likes. I don’t think she would stop a moment if she knew the real reason of the change: it would wound her to the quick.’

Mr. Adrian and Ruth were very grateful to Marston for his forbearance, and the old gentleman was never tired of singing his praises.

Lion and Gertie were as happy as the day was long in their new home, for there was a large garden where Gertie could watch the beautiful flowers, and a nice lawn on which the dog would roll over and over in the sun like a young donkey at play.

In fact everyone in the house was happy except the owner. He began to dread his own thoughts now. The new ties and the home life only served the more vividly to remind him of what his loss would be if the prophecy of the clergyman came true, and his sin found him out.

He had always intended to invest his capital in some business and employ his leisure and his talents in developing it. He wanted something to do more than ever now, and he set about to find a good opening. He perused the papers daily for partners wanted and businesses to be sold, and he put an advertisement in himself.

His advertisement: ‘A gentleman with capital would be glad to hear of a partnership in a going concern, or a business for sale,’ brought him hosts of answers. Several of them were of the usual description, and not worth troubling about. One, however, attracted his attention on account of its absurdity. The writer was anxious to meet with a gentleman of capital, as he had an idea which only needed capital to develop. This idea was to start an office and have a trained staff for the recovery of all offered rewards. The writer pointed out that in every day’s paper there were several hundreds of pounds offered for the recovery of lost or stolen property, for the detection of criminals, and for the addresses of missing friends. His letter concluded by pointing out an instance of a large reward still to be had, which, he was sure, with a little trouble and some outlay, might be gained. He alluded to the thousand-pound reward offered by the railway company for the discovery of the gold-robbers. No confederate dare come forward, he explained, but a couple of hundred pounds might induce a confederate to give a clue to private individuals which he dare not impart to the authorities.