By and by, they come, the mayor, the officers, the curious gazers; the rain is nothing to them, in a case like this; there is much running to and fro; there are all the scenes and incidents attendant upon a first-class horror. A messenger is dispatched, in haste, to Mapleton, and, in the wind and the rain, the drama moves on.
The messenger to Mapleton rides in hot haste; he finds none but the servants astir in that stately house; to them he breaks the news, and then waits while they rouse Frank Lamotte; for Jasper Lamotte has not returned from the city.
After a time he comes down, pale and troubled of countenance; he can scarcely credit the news he hears; he is terribly shocked, speechless with the horror of the story told him.
By and by, he recovers his composure, in a measure; he goes to his mother's room, and tells her the horrible news; he orders the servants to be careful what they say in his sister's presence, and not to approach Evan's room; then he tells the coachman to meet Mr. Lamotte, who will come on the noon express, with the carriage. After which, he swallows a glass of brandy; and, without waiting for breakfast, mounts his horse and gallops madly townward.
Meantime, the fast express is steaming toward W——, bearing among its human freight, Mr. Jasper Lamotte; and never has W—— seen upon his usually serene face such a look as it now wears. It is harassed, baffled, discontented, surly. He knows no one among the passengers, and he sits aloof from his fellow travelers, making no effort to while away the time, as travelers do.
As they near W——, however, he shakes off his dullness, and lays aside his look of care; and when he steps upon the platform at W——, he is to all appearance, the same smiling suave man, who went away three days before.
There are several other passengers for W——, among whom we may see a portly, dignified gentleman who looks to be somewhere in the forties, and who evidently has a capital opinion of himself, and knows what he is about. He is fashionably dressed, and wears a splendid diamond in his shirt front. He carries in his hand a small valise, and asks for a carriage to the best hotel.
Close behind him is another man, of a different stripe. He is a rakish looking fellow, dressed in smart but cheap clothing. He carries in his hand a small, square package, neatly strapped, and this alone would betray his calling, were it not so obvious in his look and manner. The "book fiend" has descended upon W——. He looks about him carelessly, watches the portly gentleman as he is driven away in the carriage from the W—— Hotel, sees Mr. Jasper Lamotte enter his landau, and drive swiftly away, and then he trudges cheerily townward, swinging his packet of books as he goes.
When they are out of sight of the gaping crowd about the depot, the coachman, acting under Frank's orders, brings his horses to a walk, and, turning upon his seat, addresses his master.
"I've dreadful news to tell you, sir; and Mr. Frank said to let you know it quick, so as you could come there at once."