IN TWO CHAPTERS.—CHAP. II.
I called at the hospital twice or thrice, to see if any inquiry had been made for the mysterious and irritating parcel which I had so unwittingly appropriated on the 24th of February. I looked in the newspapers for advertisements of lost documents; I even myself advertised my possession of a sealed envelope, of which I gave as elaborate a description as so simple an object permitted. All in vain! Nobody seemed to want the packet, and it remained an unclaimed foundling on my hands.
We discussed the question of my duty in the matter in full conclave. (It was about this time that ‘full conclave’ began to mean, as it has now done for many years, the conference of Gerald, May, and myself.) We could come to no decision. Gerald thought I should insist on leaving the envelope at the hospital, and trusting to chance and the authorities there for its restoration to the owner; May, being of the true blood of Eve, was of opinion that I ought to open the packet, and, by study of the contents, find out what I should do; while, for my own part, I inclined to what is termed ‘masterly inactivity.’
The truth is that I have an exaggerated, almost superstitious idea of the sanctity of sealing-wax. No one, in these days of gummed envelopes, seals a letter without a special intention of keeping its contents secret; and the use of the elaborately engraved stamp seems to me not more of a safeguard against idle curiosity than an appeal to the honour of any one for whose perusal the packet is not intended to leave it inviolate. This was the argument I used to my dear fellow-judges; and, strange to say, support of it came from a very unexpected quarter.
May was in the habit of narrating to Mrs Bowden the incidents of Gerald’s life and mine. The harmless gossip seemed to give pleasure to the poor old lady, whose personal intercourse was limited almost wholly to what she held with greedy and self-seeking ‘connections’—‘not relatives,’ as she frequently wrung their hearts by telling them; and we had no reason for desiring secrecy. To her, then, was repeated the story of the mysterious packet; she was much interested in it; and May reported her advice to me next time we met at Gerald’s lodging. (It was strange with what frequency these meetings occurred; but it was stranger still, considering how often I visited Atherton, that I should occasionally have missed his sister. Soon after this, I managed to get apartments in the same house, so that I had as large a share of May’s society when she came to Camden Town as her brother had.) It was in these words, May said, that Mrs Bowden had given her adhesion to my opinion: ‘Tell Mr Langham that it is never safe, from however good a motive, to tamper with a sealed document. Whoever does so, is liable to be accused of having forged the paper which he presents as authentic.’
‘Surely not, if the document does not affect his interest in any way,’ said May. ‘A man commits forgery only to benefit himself; and it is quite impossible that the contents of this packet, whatever they are, can have anything to do with Mr Langham.’
‘Improbable, child; not more than that; nothing is impossible.’
‘Then I went on with the book I was reading to her,’ said May, in repeating the conversation to me; ‘but I don’t think she listened. At least her eyes were twinkling all the time, though it was quite a serious book, and in the middle of one very grave passage she laughed aloud. I stopped in surprise, and then she asked me if I was sure that I had described the seal correctly. I assured her that I had given your description of it word for word, at which she laughed again, and said, “Poor George.” I wonder if she meant Mr George Bowden; but I don’t see what he had to do with the matter. Then she repeated her warning about breaking seals, and bade me be sure to convey it to you.’
‘It is very considerate of Mrs Bowden,’ I said in some bewilderment; ‘but I cannot imagine why she should be so much interested in the matter. Is she at all—queer?’
‘She is eccentric, certainly; but not in the least mad, if that is what you mean. She has heart-disease, I believe; but her mind is all right, indeed particularly acute.’