“Come,” he said at last, as he rose to take leave, “things don’t look quite so bad as they did at first. From all I have heard I am convinced that my friend’s widow and daughter are before me—a sight of the ring would put the question beyond all doubt. We must therefore set to work at once and bend all our energies to the one great point of recovering the lost ring.”
Chapter Nineteen.
A Run-away Locomotive.
Being, as we have had occasion to remark before, a communicative and confiding little woman, Netta Tipps told the secret of the ring in strict confidence to her old nurse. Mrs Durby, in a weak moment as on a former occasion, related the history of it to Gertie, who of course told Loo. She naturally mentioned it to her lover, Will Garvie, and he conveyed the information to John Marrot. Thus far, but no further, the thing went, for John felt that there might be danger in spreading the matter, and laid a strict injunction on all who knew of it to keep silence for a time.
While at the station the day following, just after having brought in the “Flying Dutchman,” he was accosted by the superintendent of police, who chanced to be lounging there with, apparently, nothing to do. Never was there a man who was more frequently called on to belie his true character. It was a part of Mr Sharp’s duty to look lazy at times, and even stupid, so as to throw suspicious men off their guard.
“A fine day, John,” he said, lounging up to the engine where John was leaning on the rail, contemplating the departure of the passengers whose lives had been in his hands for the last hour and a half, while Will Garvie was oiling some of the joints of the iron horse.
John admitted that it was a fine day, and asked what was the noos.
“Nothing particular doing just now,” said Mr Sharp. “You’ve heard, I suppose, of the mad fellow who caused such a confusion among Miss Tipps’s Sunday-school children last night?”