The poor Great Eastern—the leviathan of other days—has been eclipsed; but whatever admiration we may feel for the new, it must not be allowed to diminish the honour that is due to the old.
THE REWARD OF A GENIUS.
(Concluded from page [142].)
Britt ran home that evening full of excitement and satisfaction. His cap was thrown carelessly on one side as the lad rushed into the sitting-room, and he looked disappointed at finding a maid preparing the supper-table as the only occupant.
'Where's Mother? Hasn't she come home yet, Mary?' he asked.
'Yes, Master Rupert, your mother got back this afternoon, but she was no sooner in than Miss Aleyn sent for her to go in there, and she hasn't come back yet. She sent a note for you, though; it's on the mantel-shelf, there.'
Britt took the envelope. 'It's jolly rough on a fellow to have his mother taken away when he hasn't seen her for a week,' he grumbled, as he opened it.
'My dear boy,' the letter ran, 'I am so sorry not to be with you this evening. Unfortunately Miss Aleyn has got one of her particularly fidgety nervous attacks, and I don't like to leave her. She found a cross chalked on the gate-post this afternoon, and imagines it is a burglar's mark! She won't listen to reason, and absolutely refuses to come home with me, so the house is now being barricaded in preparation for the attack Miss Aleyn confidently expects.'
Rupert read the letter through twice before its meaning dawned on him. Miss Aleyn, an elderly and very eccentric maiden lady, was their near neighbour, and a friend of his mother's. Her hobby was curio-collecting, and she lived in perpetual dread of having her treasures stolen. In fact, judging by the energy and ingenuity she displayed in hunting for them, one might well imagine the old lady was desirous of making a collection of burglars, although so far no success had attended her efforts. She was an ardent admirer of Sherlock Holmes; to her, as to the famous detective, every unfamiliar sign or unusual incident meant a clue to some crime or burglary. Remembering this trait of Miss Aleyn's, Britt suddenly realised how full of meaning must have appeared the hasty scrawl he had left on Miss Aleyn s gate-post for the hounds' guidance that afternoon. He startled the maid-servant by a peal of laughter that echoed through the small house.