The girl from nowhere

by Mrs. Baillie Reynolds

As to what had actually happened they themselves were in a state of uncertainty. The window of Felix's room had been found fastened on the inside. Nobody had seen the two or either of them leave the house. The door of the room wherein the girl had been confined was locked. There were no traces of her having fallen out of the window, though this must have been her way of escape. But had she thrown herself out she must have been killed or seriously injured; and of her having lowered herself by a rope or any other means there was no trace. Their exhaustive inquiry into accident cases at adjacent hospitals had led to nothing. A young man could not have carried off a badly injured girl without attracting notice. Had she fallen upon the railway lines her body would certainly have been found.

The morning papers all published the curious story of the disappearance of a suicide. They printed in full the two letters—that of Denzil to Felix; that of Felix to Denzil. The evening papers even had leading articles arguing as to whether the elder brother had or had not behaved with harshness to the younger.

No information was forthcoming as to where Felix had spent the last few hours of his life. For the newspapers did not know, and the police did not know, that all-important fact, which would have meant so much to Denzil and his aunt, that there had been two suicides, and not only one. And Comrade Dawkes was not one to court publicity.

If the crew of the George Barnes had but known the story of the girl who dropped out of the window! But they did not know it. So in London the police searched, and Denzil advertised, and Levy and Rankin Leigh waited for the upshot of it all. But nothing happened. No body was discovered in the Thames; no young man under the influence of laudanum was to be found in any police-station or hospital.

The invitations for the house-party at Normansgrave were not dispatched. The Squire retired in bitterness of spirit to his study, where he sat up half the night, and departed to London next morning by an early train.

And down in the cottage hospital at Aylfleet lay Veronica Leigh, for two days delirious, for two or three days more weak and hardly conscious; and then, again, for some days slowly gaining strength and grip on life.

An interest in her recovery and in hearing reports of her progress was the only thing which at that time could divert the mind of Denzil Vanston from its continual preoccupation concerning his brother's fate. Awful as suicide is, it yet almost seemed to him as if he would rather be sure of the worst than continue in uncertainty. If Felix were dead, he would have to alter his will. There were very few Vanstons living, but there were two or three descendants of his grandfather in a remote county. The dissatisfaction with which he thought of them brought clearly home to him the fact that he must marry. As soon as it should be decent, that house-party must be collected. As soon as people had left off talking to him about his brother's fate and the unkind publication of the two letters left upon the table, he would turn his attention to his duties in providing an heir to rule after him at Normansgrave. He would not put on mourning, nor allow Miss Rawson to do so until he had some proof that Felix was actually dead. But his restlessness and depression grew from day to day; and at last, to distract him and give his thoughts a new turn, Miss Rawson said to him:

"Drive me down to Aylfleet this afternoon, and we will look in upon the little Smith girl. I want to know whether you agree with me as to her being unusually fascinating. Dr. Causton does."

The motor was ordered, and they went off.

The spring was coming, and the trees beginning to tremble into leaf. In the pretty red-gabled cottage hospital the windows were open, and the sweet air flooded the place.