In the course of the ensuing day, Miss Rawson received the following letter.
It was typewritten, and dated from a London hotel.
"Miss Rawson (Private).
"DEAR MADAM,—I must begin this letter with some attempt to express my deep sense of the great kindness you have shown to my young sister. I scarcely know how to write. Words mean so little. But as I have nothing else, I must, all the same, make use of them to tell you of my undying gratitude to you and Mr. Vanston for a help so prompt and so effectual as that you have already bestowed. But, madam, not only am I your debtor for all these favors—you actually speak of interesting yourself further in my sister's case—upon conditions.
"I cannot tell you how much it would mean to me to know that she was safe, and in trustworthy hands, during the next year or two. I have thrown up my old work, and, for reasons I shall explain, I cannot return to it. I have now the offer of work which will, I trust, turn out well for me, but of such a character—involving residence abroad and much movement from place to place—as would make it very difficult at first to have my sister with me.
"But now, madam, we come to the crucial point. You most naturally stipulate that the kind offer you make is contingent upon my frankness. Before we go further, let me avow, without disguise, that I dare not be perfectly frank with you. The reason for this is that we are fugitives. We have an uncle, who was in charge of my sister, and from whose wicked hands she was escaping when she met with her accident. Should he find out where she now is, he would no doubt try to repossess himself of her.
"We are orphans; and in justice to your kindness, and relying on your secrecy, I will own to you that our name is not Smith in reality, but Leigh. My uncle made an unjustifiable attempt to compel my sister to adopt as her profession the music-hall stage—to which she was strongly averse. He paid a premium for her complete training to a man who was neither more nor less than an unprincipled scoundrel. On my sister's declining to submit to his treatment, he tried to starve her into submission by locking her up and leaving her without food. In rescuing her from this terrible position—only just in time—I was so unfortunate as to allow her to fall from a considerable height, with the result that, as you know, she was seriously hurt.
"We made our escape, penniless and without resources, in the canal barge.
"You will see that I am being frank with you as regards the circumstances. I refrain only from the mention of names and places. I am fully aware that, by so doing, I put it out of your power to verify any part of my story. But what can I do? My uncle is furious at having paid down a large sum for my sister's training, only to lose her. He will leave no stone unturned to recapture her. He has set detectives upon our track, though he has not allowed the newspapers to make our flight known. I cannot even give you the address of the school at which my sister was educated, as this is the first place in which my uncle would make inquiries; and the lady-principal might think it her duty to answer them, should you let her know where we are.
"My uncle is my sister's legal guardian until she comes of age. Any court of law would, on his application, restore her to his care, unless we could adduce satisfactory proof of his brutality, which would be very difficult.